The AutoLIMO gingerly drove itself up and away from the downtown core, past the Seventh Sealed Bank and the City Hall of Justice, over the Silvery Bridge and under the Fallen River until it finally hit the Freedway. Detective Worth, who enjoyed riding behind the wheel when alone, was savouring the sights and listening to the radio.
". . . and in what they're calling the Late Escape, a Robot Face, New Popolisville's infamous ex-mayor, attempted a daring prison break but was foiled yet again by a change in the prison timekeeping records, the fourth change in as many weeks. On the lighter side of things, this year's Super Jamboree was a smashing success, helping to raise over ten million dollars for the Super Sickids Fund."
". . . tired of sleeping? Napping got you down? At the Institute of Woken Dreams we can help you realize your dream of a sleepless life. You can explore more at your nearest DataBank by entering WOKEN DREAMS."
". . . latest from Suzy Seashells and her Adoring Fans, here's Perchance!"
There's a boy called Yes,
And a girl named No,
She was in distress,
He was apropos.
Saved her from a mess,
And wouldn't you know,
Love flew more than less,
Now they're quid pro quo.
The library was at the heart of New Popolisville; some might say it was the heart of the city itself, some being mostly librarians. Worth noted the presence of Mayor O'Mortal and a ream of red ribbon wrapped around the high regal columns guarding the front entrance way. A snip of some scissors would christen the library's latest award of a brand spanking new DataBank, the second largest in the whole city, a gift from Sir Reward. The AutoLIMO pulled up to one of the side doors and hummed into submission.
Yes and No got a little crazy!
Nine months pass, had a little maybe!
He exited the vehicle and entered the building. Everything was quiet like the inside of a church mouse, with mostly everyone outside; their noise being muffled by the layers of brick and years of shushing. Worth headed towards the old book section, beyond the towering shelves filled with a multitude of colourful spines of varying width and height. Everything got a little dimmer, dustier and drabber yet he could almost taste the musty morsel of history. All of a sudden, an Agent of the Statement, none other than WORDwork came buzzing by with an assistant with an assistant. Worth observed the three of them systematically taking random words from random books. Before he could gleam any motive for such behaviour WORDwork says, "Detective Worthwhile of the Fortune Fiefdom! How's it slanging?"
"Short and to the point. Have you heard WORD? A Faceless Robot is dead."
A shock tremor'd across the readable WORDwork's face upon hearing the new news. "No GOOD and so distracted. Pet project and they're exhausted." he said, throwing his thumb behind him where the assisting assistants were sleeping soundly, both of their heads resting against Vol. 7 of The Serious Jester in a Court of Laughter. "What you have spoken is a thing I cannot chairish," WORDwork's speech becoming inflicted, "and while I may have had my different dances with that mundane metal monkey, a question must beg on bent knees to crooked feet," he lightly paused, "might there be a who in the whodunnit?"
Worth rubbed his eyes and thought better of rubbing his ears. "No."
"Suspected leading clues?"
The detective quietly produced Sherlock Holmes. WORDwork voraciously devoured every single page in a few single seconds with the help of his photogenic memory and then handed the book back to Worth.
"Even better the second time. Shame about the missing adventure."
"Second time?" Worth exclaimed. "Where did you see it for the first time? The DataBank had no record of, wait, can you get a copy of the third adventure to me?"
"Certainty! As to where I saw it, a public library is a poor place for secrets." he gestured at his assistants or perhaps it was the books. "Shall we head back to the League?"
TO BE CONTINUED