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

She laughed. “And, also here on the first floor, we’ve got community spaces. You can ask Ms. Doom where to get a good grouper sandwich…” Doom pointed to the cafe door, and Serenity hoisted her cup into the shot. “…or MAD coffee…” Doom pointed to the coffee shop. “…or just a good place to hang out with friends or business colleagues. Years ago, coffee shops in the Northwest hit on the idea of making their stores a kind of third place, something different from both home and work, but with characteristics that include a little of both. Our MAD will be a third place on a grand scale.”

She smiled and motioned the Forbes guy into the frame. “This is Bruce Bowden from Forbes magazine. We wanted to get his take on the MAD from a business angle.”

Bowden said, “Ms. Hammer has her take on the value of all of this, but we at Forbes have a different reason why we’re excited: we see this as the next stage in American business. Business is often done away from work at parties and bars. This unites all that: work, family, and community, with more knowledge power than ever before. If two guys are having a beer in the brewpub and wonder if the idea they’ve just come up with is feasible, they can walk up a flight of stairs to the business center before they even finish the first beer. There’s nothing like this anywhere else.”

The director signaled cut and they all took the elevator up a floor.

“Second floor,” said Serenity when the cameras were rolling. “This is our semi-traditional library itself. Books and knowledge technicians and who knows what else.”

Roberts said, “This doesn’t seem that much bigger than your old library.”

“It’s not. Yes, we have a few more paper books here than we had in the old library—or will, when we get them all moved in. Books will still be around for a long, long time. But we’ve got connections to everything else: the internet, databases, even video connections to experts across the world. And, knowledge technicians of every specialty, and no specialty at all.”

“That might be a future show,” Roberts said. “We might come back here one morning to take questions on-line and see what MAD can do for our viewers.”

“Anytime.”

“The first floor seemed to have customers—”

“Patrons. Customers are people who shop at someone else’s store. This is their MAD, and we are grateful every time they come here. Yes, we have a few patrons downstairs. The MAD doesn’t open until tomorrow morning—but we’re doing a soft launch today. We’re letting a few people in at a time to the first floor now. That’s what the line is outside. At noon, we’re going to open up the second floor on a limited basis.”

Third floor. Serenity showed the business and employment center with mostly open desks and computers with plastic still on them. She gave a run-through and turned to Bowden.

“See, this is what is new and—we hope—revolutionary. We’ve tried business incubators before, and they tied corporations and entrepreneurs together. But this ties it all together: businesses, potential employees, and the services needed to make it work, all together. Maker spaces with three-D printers and other tools so people can prove their concepts without spending a ton of start-up cash. When the businesses get big enough, they’ll move out on their own.”

“And we’ll be there with them even then,” Serenity said, “helping them find or build space, and making sure that they stay connected. Once they’re up and running, every business will have a librarian assigned as their contact, with an office here at the MAD and, if the business chooses, an office at their business making sure that they have all the knowledge they need. And, all the data connectivity they need will be free, coming through the MAD.”

Bowden said, “We’ve had models where we offered free utilities and such in a business zone, but never a city built on free knowledge, of every kind.”

Fourth floor. Serenity showed them the education center, with college prep and early learning centers. A man was testing a camera in the media center and Serenity motioned Roberts into the chair behind the news desk. “And this, Robin, is where we’ll train your replacement.”

Roberts smiled into the MAD camera and looked at her ten-foot image on the big screen across the room. The GMA camera swiveled to her image on the big screen as she said, “This is Robin Roberts, signing off from the future.”

The fifth floor was mostly a mess of men who were assembling furniture.

“This will be a drop-in day care by day and a homeless shelter by night.”

Forbes said, “Single moms can work one floor below their kids, and people trying to get back on their feet won’t lose jobs because they don’t have beds and showers.”

The sixth floor was empty.

“Libraries have always been the only place where anyone can consult with a professional for free, and we’ve done the best we could,” said Serenity. “This will be our medical, legal, and mental health knowledge center. Not a clinic, except in a very basic sense, but a link to professionals who can get people connected.”

Roberts said, “If I were lucky enough to live in Maddington and didn’t have a doctor, but had a strange pain, or if I had a scary legal situation, but didn’t know a lawyer—”

“Come to the MAD. We’ll get you started.”

The seventh floor was a mess with the breeze still blowing through open holes and men climbing around and yelling at each other.

“Our administrative offices will be housed here,” Serenity said, “and, appropriately, it’s just a mess.”

“Perfect.” Roberts turned to the camera and did her closing.

When the camera was off, she came to Serenity with a serious look. “As we were moving up, it occurred to me that there are two reasons why this hasn’t been done before. The first, and most important, is that each of those floors, in their own way, represents a powerful lobby that fights for its own turf. You’re going to have a hard time keeping this from being pulled apart. You’ve got a tough fight ahead of you to keep this, maybe just to survive. Let me know if I can help.”

“Thanks. I hope those are not just polite words. I may call on you,” Serenity said.

“I meant it. Anytime.”

“And the other reason?”

Roberts laughed. “We’ve all put up with these problems too long. No one’s been mad enough before. Pun intended.”

The Forbes guy came up carrying a tablet.

“I thought you might want to see a rough draft of what our cover might look like.”

He turned the tablet around and showed them the screen. The shot was the outside of the MAD with men working on the top floor and a line of people waiting to get in. The Forbes logo was across the top and plastered across the building was, a city of books.

DEDICATION MORNING: MAD DAY 1. Tuesday, August 19th if you paid attention to the old calendar, which no one in Maddington had for—oh, seven days.

Serenity sat on the podium and looked out over the crowd. Most who lived in the city were there, and it looked like half the people in the state were there, too. Camera crews, bloggers, tweeters, and high-school journalists, along with the Library Journal and other trade publications that were covering the seven-stories-in-seven-days building story were all there. Someone said Matt Drudge of The Drudge Report was there, reporting that Elvis was at the MAD, and threatening to turn Democrat.

In the front row sat Paul Molcut. Serenity had invited him to be on the stage with her, but he demurred and insisted that she should be on stage alone to claim the glory. Other local politicians decided not to be on the stage, either. In the back, she saw an Auburn jacket under a straw hat on a large and nondescript man and recognized him as Molcut’s enforcer. She saw him make head nods to men scattered here and there throughout the crowd.