Michael Guillebeau - MAD Librarian - You Gotta Fight for Your Right to Library

“Took that out of the old Maddington Stadium, back when Maddington was just a little country town.”

She sat, and tried to avoid splinters.

“Yes, sir.”

He waited. She waited. He smiled and she nodded. “Sir, we have a donor who’s funding our library expansion. It’s important to him that the library do something big, and do it fast. If we can get the library done in a month, I think he would also be very supportive of the reelection of the man who helped make it possible.”

He looked sad. “I don’t know if I can do that. I thought this was just maybe you offering a hundred dollars. I’d try to get you up to a thousand, buy enough campaign signs to keep this crappy little job for another four years.”

He stood up and walked to a framed flow chart on the back wall and beckoned to Serenity to join him. It looked like someone had covered the wall with spaghetti and sticky notes.

“Inspect and approve a building in a month? Let me show you what you’re talking about.” He pointed. “See that? That’s what we’re looking at, young lady. I’d love to take your donor’s money, but I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

He went back and sat down on the bench and hung his head. Serenity took a seat beside him.

He said, “It may be time to bow out of this job anyway. I’m tired of doing nothing but chicken shit stuff every day.”

She started to object, but he pointed to the batting poster. “See that? That was me. Home run 100. First man ever to hit 100 for the old Stars Double-A baseball team. Only made the majors once, for a week. But I set that record, will always be the man who did it. See that old man in the crowd, face looks like he just took a big bite of a turd pie? That’s my father. Bet me I couldn’t make my first high school team. Rode me every day of my life, told me I’d never be anything but chicken shit.”

He took a deep breath. “Maybe he was right. But, for that one moment, I was a god. A god who never made a real dent in the pros, but a god all the same.”

He glanced at Serenity and a smile flickered. Then it was gone. “That’s life, ain’t it? Technically, I was a loser in baseball, never made the show for long, but I felt like a winner ’ cause every swing of the bat was mine. After baseball, I lived my life like they told me to. Ran a business and made money. Won elections. Won, and felt like a loser when I had to do what I was supposed to every day.”

He looked at her. “Sorry. What I’m supposed to do today—what I have to do today—is tell you that we can’t approve your little building in a month.”

Serenity looked at the poster of Powell swinging for the fences, catching the one rare pitch that would lead to glory. “What if it wasn’t a little building? What if we went bigger? Much bigger.” She pointed at the picture and held her gesture until he looked up and followed. “What would it take to feel that way again?”

“I’m an old man.”

“We’re all old men and old women. And we’re still children at the same time. Scared, and then sad because we gave in to our fears. What if we didn’t? What if we got crazier than ever? Crazier than you felt when you went out to that first tryout, not sure if you could do any of it? How would that feel?”

“Good. Until we crashed.”

“Good enough to be worth the crash?”

“Maybe.”

He sighed. “All we’re talking about is approving a building?”

“Maybe more. What would it take to make something a hell of a lot bigger happen?”

“I don’t know. Yes, I do. Same thing that always makes things happen: Money. Overtime for inspectors. Money to rush everything.”

She took a deep breath, stood up straight and tried to look like she was giving a serious, thought-out presentation. “Mr. Powell, I heard that somewhere in China they put up a thirty-story skyscraper in fifteen days. What if we did a seven-story building in seven days? It would put Maddington on the map, just for trying. After a week, we’d have a library to build a city around, with services and job creation beyond our imagination. What would it feel like, to stand there on the day when the doors opened, and know you did it?”

He pointed at the baseball picture. “It would feel like that. But the Chinese could only do something like that because they can spend all the money they want. And, because one guy can control all the bureaucracy.”

“I’ve got the money,” Serenity said, “if you’ve got the bureaucrat.”

Powell stood up slowly. Looked at Serenity like she was as crazy as she was. Looked at the victorious man on the wall. He crossed behind his desk and pulled out a quart jar of clear liquid and two glasses.

“I’m a Baptist.” He poured both glasses. “We don’t drink. This is country courage. Moonshine. Doesn’t count as alcohol because you don’t have to go to the liquor store to buy it.”

Serenity took her glass. He held his up to toast but then paused. “We’re probably going to crash and burn.”

“Possibly.”

He looked back at the young Powell. “Sometimes, it’s better to die trying than to live giving up.”

“And we might even succeed.”

He looked at her for a long time and took an even longer sip.

“No. But let’s die trying.” He studied her face carefully. “All in?”

He raised his glass to her.

Serenity clinked his glass.

“All in.”

She felt drunk before the first sip burned down her throat.

SERENITY’S HEAD WAS POUNDING. She sat at her desk looking at her empty rum/coffee cup and thinking what she had been pouring in was weak compared to what Powell had. Doom was standing in the doorway talking passionately about something that Serenity was having trouble following. Doom saw something out into the lobby and stopped mid-sentence.

“Oh, this is so perfect.” Doom skipped away and Councilman Doctor Bentley filled Serenity’s door behind her.

“Councilman Doctor. What a surprise.”

“I’m billing this as a house call.”

She leaned back. “Does your office even know how to bill for a house call?”

Bentley frowned.

“Councilman Doctor Bentley, I’m sorry, but I’ve got a lot to get done. Why don’t you have a seat and tell me what’s on your mind?”

She pointed emphatically at her broken visitor’s chair, and he sat down gently.

“Serenity, girl,” he said. “I heard you were writing some big checks yesterday. I come down here and find Seth Burroughs in the side lot yelling orders and men unloading equipment.”

“The expansion’s coming. Fast.”

“We killed that.”

“I told you, all the funding for the expansion comes from the Special Projects fund.”

Bentley fidgeted and stared at her hard.

“You’re telling me that you’re paying for all this with a bunch of little contributions from ordinary citizens?”

“Absolutely.”

He studied her face.

“I’m good at smelling rats, and I smell a big one here.”

She pointed at the bookcase next to Bentley’s shoulder. He turned and found himself eye-to-eye with Faulkner. He squealed and jumped.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” she said. “That’s just Faulkner, our library rat. He’s not costing you a dime.”

He shook his finger at her. “There’s something worse than a rat here.”

Serenity started to say something but was interrupted by a knock at the door. She looked up and Doom walked in. She handed Bentley a long box.

“Councilman Bentley,” she said, “after your last meeting with our librarian, some of us here wanted to present you with this. Something for just your personal use.”

“What is it?”

He opened the top and saw a long metal tube.