(Translation by Andrew Fentem)
In a harbour town in northwest England, a
man was trying to escape the rain. He had
been strolling nonchalantly through a light
drizzle since he arrived a few hours earlier
but, as the rain started to come down heavier,
he upped his pace a bit. He had to find shelter
as soon as possible, otherwise he would be
soaked.
Spotting a church at the end of a street,
he quickened his pace even more, thinking
he could hide there. A few seconds later,
he was inside looking around. Overgrown with
plants and devoid of a roof or windows, there
was little chance of shelter here: wherever
he went, the rain just seeped through his
clothes more and more. Finally, by standing
under a tree just outside the building, he
found a way of dodging some of the rain.
From his place of refuge he noticed a stone
statue just behind him with a short inscription
in English and Gaelic. Apparently one hundred
and fifty years ago more than a million Irish
people had fled here from the famine. Ahead
of him, he could see the town sloping downwards
towards the river and his eyes stopped for
a moment on a huge white building by the
water with two towers, each crowned with
a bird for decoration. His eyes followed
the course of the river until it joined the
Irish Sea and for a while he stood transfixed.
Rubbing the mist and the rain from his glasses,
he stared at the estuary again before wiping
his glasses a second time and then taking
a final look at the river. In spite of the
distance, he could make out some people hanging
onto a raft and even managed to pick up part
of a conversation between a man and a woman.
"I'm telling you, you've got to leave
the City of Books." It was a question
of life or death, the man went on.
"Yes, but what about Sylvia…" the
woman answered.
"Sylvia is mad staying there. Getting
out was the only solution."
"But where can we go? If only you could
tell me that."
"Do you think I know any more than you?
We have to leave this river, get back onto
the sea…
"And?"
"We have to go north, towards the Lake
District."
"But what for? Please tell me."
"There's a book there which is set into
the top of a hill. It's the Last Book. The
Ultimate Book. Finding it is our only hope…"
As soon as the chance witness heard these
words, he looked up again and noticed a puddle
a short distance from his feet. The heavy
rain continued unabated but he left his temporary
refuge and the dilapidated church anyway
and followed the path of the river. Before
long he came across a bookshop. Going inside,
he went up to the top floor and started searching
for the Ultimate Book himself.
Vincent Fransolet