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

“That may be true. But we can do a hell of a lot better job than you can.”

He sighed. “You want us to cut you in? Fair enough. We’ve already got plans to invite you in. We’re going to take over your building and let the chamber of commerce run it. We’ll let you have two floors for your library, which is twice as big as it is now.”

Serenity took a deep breath and hoped he didn’t hear the shaking in her voice.

“No. Here’s what we’re going to do. Contributions stay the same. We’ll let you keep half for your politicians. It’s more than they deserve. We take the other half, expand the MAD, and build other MADs throughout the state. We know the money you control isn’t just from Maddington, but from the whole damned state. Once we’ve turned the state MAD, we’ll go after your brothers in other states. Try to stop us and every librarian in the country will start shining a light on you.”

There was a short laugh like a cough. “I wish I’d given you a scrap when you came begging earlier. That would probably have been enough, then.”

“Probably. But not now. And I honestly thank you for pushing me to fight for more than scraps for our library and for our city.”

There was a long silence. “Your library is still going to join us, one way or the other, eventually. You think this is like one of the games on your library play days. But this is far more dangerous, Serenity, than you can possibly know. We can take your library with or without you—even without your life—if we have to.”

“I am scared, honestly. You have power and you have guns.” She opened the confessional door, stepped out to open his door, and spoke to him directly. “But we have books. I know how weak that sounds to you, but it’s not. We can do this, and we will do this.”

“Perhaps you can, but only for a time,” he said. “Nothing lasts forever. You can hold on for a while, but every day will be a battle. You have already seen what happens to people who threaten us. You will pay prices, and you will pay them in ways you can neither predict nor comprehend, and in the end, you will pay the ultimate price. ”

Serenity was tired. “Yeah. But when you don’t do the things you know need doing, you pay a price there, too. We’re done paying that price. I’m going to fight for this as long and as hard as I can, regardless of the price.”

“That’s madness.”

The smile came unbidden out of somewhere inside her and bubbled up bigger than she meant. “Hell, yeah.”

NONE OF IT FELT REAL to Serenity.

After her meeting with Molcut, she’d spent Sunday at the MAD, attending to details, looking over her shoulder, and wondering if her pink hard hat would stop bullets. Her meeting with Molcut just felt like big talk now, and when she called Joe in the afternoon he seemed distant.

“Feel like somebody hit me over the head with a sledgehammer and then stuffed the inside of my head with cotton,” he said.

“Probably just the effect of the drugs from the doctor.” She looked at her watch and calculated how much of the sleeping pills should still be in his system.

“Hope so.”

She tried being upbeat. “Maybe you’re still recovering from that awesome performance of yours last night.”

Silence. Were the drugs fogging his memory? Or was there more?

After a pause, he said, “I’m going back to bed” and then hung up on her.

She sat out at the picnic tables for a long time, staring in the direction of her MAD, but really staring at nothing. How many people had she put at risk? All for a dream that might—probably would—just be gobbled up by Molcut and the great machinery of Things As They Are. After she was dead. Maybe Joe. Maybe Doom. Maybe Joy. Maybe… How long would the list be?

She shook herself out of her funk and saw that darkness had fallen. She couldn’t face Joe like this. She went inside to the cot in her old office and made the transition from frightening waking dreams to terrifying real dreams.

She woke up with Joy shaking her, “They’re here, boss.”

“Who’s here?”

“ Forbes . And Good Morning America. Today’s Monday, the day they’re doing a profile on the MAD.”

“Oh God.” Serenity sat up. “Where’s a mirror? I thought we were going to add a mirror in here?”

“You decided to put it in your new office. A supermirror, remember? But not here.”

“Just as well. I’m not sure I want to see myself right now. Hold them off while I run home and get a shower.”

A young woman with purple hair elbowed past Joy. “No time. We’re on deadline.”

“Who are you?”

She pushed up to Serenity and kneaded her face like it was a clay statue. “GMA hair and makeup. We can fix this.”

“Five minutes,” she yelled. “Jake!” A young man with hair like a rooster’s comb slid into the room with a makeup case, clucking disapproval. They poked and prodded at her face for four minutes and fifty-nine seconds until someone yelled, “Time,” and the woman said, “It’ll do.” The boy said, “Glad it’s not my face,” and Serenity was herded out the door and across to the new MAD.

The Forbes reporter met her at the entrance and shook her hand enthusiastically. “Thanks for doing this so early. Our photographer wanted to capture this early shot with you in front with the sun coming up.”

Through the grogginess, Serenity said, “Sure.” She shook her head hard enough to shake as much clarity as she was going to get into it today. “But no. Not me. Don’t make me the story. Back up and get the full MAD gleaming in the sun with workers still climbing around the top floor and that line of people fighting to get in early. We’re not even formally opening today, just letting a limited number into the first two floors. Despite that, it looks like half of North Alabama wants to get in. That’s the story.”

The Forbes photographer faded and a tall black woman stepped in.

“You’re Robin Roberts,” said Serenity.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “I’m an Alabama girl just like you. It’s good to see a story like this in my home state. Here’s what we’ve planned to do: A quick intro with you out front, talking about the library. Then we’ll follow you in and get you to show us the first floor. We’ll throw it back to New York while we go up to the second floor. We’ll break the story into seven quick pieces spread out over the hour.”

“They’re still working on the top floor today, so it’ll be a mess.”

“Perfect ending.”

“And until tomorrow, nothing’s functional—except the first floor.”

“Even better. Chaos sells.”

Serenity smiled. “Then you’re going to get rich here. Let me suggest two things. Focus on the MAD, not me. And do your intro out here, without me. Come inside, I’ll greet you and we’ll do the first floor.”

“That’s what we had planned on. We have a camera setup on each floor. And thing two?”

“It’s not ‘the library’ anymore. This is the MAD.”

Serenity went inside and scampered to the coffee bar. “Depth Bomb, Tom. Fast, and in a MAD mug.”

She took the mug and walked over to the door where she practiced a smile that made her feel like her face was cracking. She took as big a sip as she could and turned it into a cracked smile with a scalded windpipe.

The entourage came in and she held the smile.

“Welcome to the MAD,” she said after Roberts introduced her. “This is our welcome floor. This desk is where a patron can bring any question to our help desk librarian like Ms. Doom here and she’ll have a librarian—a MADman or a MADwoman—take them to the right floor to get started. People can bring us anything they need help with—educational, business, medical, life. We won’t solve it, but we’ll make sure they get hooked up with whatever knowledge they need.”