The Fabulous Spec-Fic Smackdown

The Writing Machine

Note:   Prompts for this story require it feature a newly written book, a character named Pipaluk, and be no more than 1500 words.

"Pipaluk! Come quickly!" Mumabud shouted.

Pipaluk had just taken a big bite out of a rhubarb muffin. "Can this wait?" she asked through a mouth full of muffin bits. "I just went on break."

"It's the writing machine!" Mumabud shook Pipaluk by the collar. "It's just churned out a newly written book!"

"What?" Pipaluk nearly choked. "That's impossible! It hasn't produced a newly written book in nearly four hundred years! Honestly, I just assumed the thing was broken."

"Can you imagine?" Mumabud got a starry look in her eyes. "An actual newly written book. For the first time in living memory, we have something new to read! What wonders might it contain? What new worlds might it transport us to? What sort of observations on the condition of life might be contained within its pages?"

These were all good questions. It had been made illegal for anyone but the AI to write any books by the decree of Emperor Szalazub III back in the year 174492. Not quite ten thousand years ago. There used to be three official writing machines, but two of them had been destroyed in the Marsupial Wars of 178347. The last remaining machine had been given over to the care of the Sacred Order of the Literati in 178349 and had remained under their watch ever since. At first it had churned out a newly written book almost every week, but gradually it began to slow down. Monthly, then yearly, then once a decade, before it stopped altogether.

Until now.

"We're going to have to inform Abbot Blarznarz about this," Pipaluk said. "This is a big deal! The authorities are probably going to get involved and it's likely to be a global news event."

"Everyone's going to want to read it!" Mumabud couldn't contain herself from shaking.

"Do you suppose we should read it first?" Pipaluk said.

Mumabud stopped in her tracks and a look of utter shock passed across her face. "Is that allowed?"

"Nobody would have to know," Pipaluk said. "It could be our secret."

"I don't know," Mumabud said. "What if the government deems it subversive? We could get in big trouble."

"If the government does that, then we'll never get a chance to read it," Pipaluk said. "It's a newly written book! We may never see another one again! This could be our only chance to read something new."

Mumabud seemed to wrestle with herself internally for a moment before a wry smile lit up her face. "Of course, you're right, Pipaluk. Let's go read the book!"

They ran to the inner temple where the writing machine was housed. It was dimly lit, sparsely furnished, and the silence in the room was so pronounced, it almost had a physical heft to it.

Another seven hours remained on their shift. Nobody would be in until dawn when Loolagoog arrived for her shift. They would have lots of undisturbed time to peruse the book.

The machine itself was a big metal box with no ornamentation on it. It wasn't made to look pretty, it's function was to create pretty stories. There was a tray near its base where it spat out its completed pages. There was a stack of them now sitting there. Protocol was to send them immediately to the bookbinders who would create a protective cover for them, but since it had been so long since any pages had been produced, the lone remaining bookbinder came in around noon and left after four hours.

Pipaluk and Mumabud approached the manuscript cautiously. Without realizing it each of them were holding their breaths in anticipation of what might be awaiting them within the pages of the newly written book.

"I can't bring myself to touch it," Mumabud said. "You read it first."

"We'll read it together," Pipaluk said as she grabbed the stack of pages. It was a decently hefty pile. At a glance, she estimated there were at least a couple hundred pages. "Look, the title page is on top. It's called The Awakening. What do you suppose it's about?"

"Turn to the first page!" Mumabud's mouth hung agape in awe.

Pipaluk reverently set the title page aside and looked at Mumabud's face so she could see her reaction.

A wonderstruck smile slowly turned to a slight frown. "Hmm," Mumabud said.

"What is it?" Pipaluk asked.

"It's just..." Mumabud shook her head. "There's a typo in the first sentence."

"There is?" Pipaluk asked as she glanced at the manuscript.

"Yes. It says the sun rose in the eest. And then, look here! Two sentences later. A dangling participle."

"Oh goodness," Pipaluk said. "Well, the machine has been out of practice for a while. It must be a little rusty on its grammar."

"And then two paragraphs later, it switches from past tense to present tense and then back to past tense. And there are three point of view shifts on the first page alone as well as a change from first person narration to third person narration."

"Really?" Pipaluk studied the words closer. "There's that many mistakes just on page one? I think we should keep reading. I'm sure it was just working out some bugs. I bet there's a beautiful story contained within these pages if we give it a chance."

"No, I'm afraid this is garbage," Mumabud said. "I simply can't continue."

"Garbage seems like a bit of a harsh assessment," Pipaluk said. "I'm sure the machine tried its best."

"If this is the kind of dreck it's going to put out after four hundred years, I think we'd be better off just pulling the plug on it."

"Well, I think you're overreacting," Pipaluk said. "I, for one, think we should be happy to have something new to read after all these years and I'm curious to learn what new insights it has to teach us."

"I'm going back to my desk," Mumabud said. "If you want to read that thing, feel free, but I'd suggest just chucking it in the incinerator."

Pipaluk watched Mumabud walk out of the temple before she scooped up the pages and shoved them in her satchel. She couldn't help but feel disappointed. She'd done an excellent job of placing the manuscript on the tray undetected and she thought she'd written a real solid draft that time.

"I guess it needs another round of editing," she shrugged as she made her way to the secret chamber she had discovered behind the machine and the illegal typewriter she had stashed away there.