This is Day 22 of #MarchusAnnus challange. Continuing On the Edge of Sight. Links to the other parts are available at the bottom of this post.
It was starting to look like the book never existed, and that would make Price seem out of his mind.
While others might be routed by such strange findings, Price was not so easily dissuaded. It was time for some problem solving, so he stopped to think of other ways to prove this book existed and where it truly belongs. He put his hand to the side of his face, as though he was looking for some sort of idea button hidden on the just above his hairline.
“That’s it!” He thought, almost audibly. “Clearly Ray must have put it back where it belonged.” Just to verify this line of reasoning he thought to head back to the book directory to find the book.
Price took on an expression of determination, like a child dismissed for a correct, but naïve answer to a complex question. He was determined to find this book and insure it was in its proper home. Arriving at the computer terminal used for the library’s directory, he pulled his chair over to take a seat and begins to type.
The search bar fills in, Travelers in the Inbetween, and with a strike of the enter key the system sets into motion. Nearly as quickly as the query was sent to the database of library contents, it was returned. The digital result was as perplexing as the analog reality. Zero results. There was no other information returned by the search application.
Looking at the screen gave Price a sinking feeling akin to motion sickness. It was physically here yesterday, he touched it, held it. He assured himself of his sanity and of the reality of the book Travelers in the Inbetween. He was certain the book must exist. His mind raced at the thought that he might have imagined the whole thing.
Maybe he remembered the title wrong, or it was input to the system incorrectly. That could be the answer. Price focused on one word in the title, something innocuous on the surface, but it was the very word that led him to believe that this book didn’t belong in non-fiction. Inbetween is not a word found in English dictionaries. It is two separate words, and, being the stickler he was about language, noticed this right away.
Price began a new search request to the electronic card catalogue. A single search term of an incorrect usage of a phrase transposed into a word: Inbetween. He thoughtfully pressed the return key and set in motion a search query. The time it was taking to provide results lead him to believe he was about to be validated in his conviction to find this book.
“Price!” He looked up to see that it was Ray, who was quickly walking over to the kiosk counter. Price did not pay attention to the computer screen when he moved his chair over to face the rapidly approaching Ray. It was evident that Ray had something very important on his mind, and his face illustrated that it was serious.
“What do you need?” Price offered sincerely. He had planned to ask Ray about the book when first he saw him. Price knew there would be plenty of time for that, now was not the right time.
“I have some pressing matters to attend in the city,” Ray was developing a habit of leading extra information. He followed with a request, “can you come back to the library after class and stay late?”
“Of course,” answered Price, eagerly. “How late do you need me to stay?”
Ray used this opportunity to build an alibi for his secret late night disappearances. “No later than nine, the students know they’re on their own after that,” That was a true statement, the library was always open, but that didn’t mean there was always someone available to assist. “And thank you,” he exclaimed.
When Ray turned around he pushed off the counter, it caused a small tremor just a couple of feet from where his hands were placed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to knock a bin of binder clips that was already hanging over the edge. The binder clips spilled out across the lower counter on the inside of the ring shaped kiosk. While some fell to the floor, but more of them landed on the counter around the card catalogue terminal.
“Sorry about that.” Ray said apologetically, nearly out the door already.
“No worries.” Price proclaimed, already moving to clean up the mess.
It would have remained “no worries,” but the bin, that had once contained the, now spilled, binder clips, fell on the keyboard. It just caught the escape key, clearing the book search. Price could have just searched it again. However, the urgency of Ray’s request completely derailed Price’s thought process.
Price diligently cleaned up the binder clips. He searched under the chair and counter, then around the keyboard and monitor on the counter. Once he was certain he cleaned up all of them he realized it was time to prepare for his first class at River Valley, and he was an enthusiast for being prepared.
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The Original A.J. Young 