Tweed smiled. 'I'm not sure, sir. We fixed the flight manual conflict and debugged AutoPageTurnDeluxe. The raciness overheat problem has been fixed and the Esperanto translation module is now working a hundred per cent. All these faults have been dealt with openly translation module is now working a hundred per cent. All these faults have been dealt with openly and transparently. We need to upgrade and upgrade now the popularity of non-fiction is creeping and transparently. We need to upgrade and upgrade now the popularity of non-fiction is creeping up and we have to be vigilant.' up and we have to be vigilant.'

Heep ran up and whispered in Tweed's ear.

'That was our intelligence sources, sir. It seems that Next has been suffering from a mnemonomorph recently.' mnemonomorph recently.'

'Great Scott!' gasped the Bellman. 'She might not even know she has done it!'

'It would explain that convincing act,' added Tweed. 'A woman with no memory of her evil has no guilt. Now, do I have your permission to apply for an "Extremely Prejudicial Termination" order?' guilt. Now, do I have your permission to apply for an "Extremely Prejudicial Termination" order?'

'Yes.' The Bellman sighed, taking a seat 'Yes, you better had and UltraWord is to go ahead, as Jasper Fforde - Thursday Next 03 - The Well of Lost Plots planned. We have dithered enough.'

We jumped back into the Jurisfiction offices. Tweed and Heep were alone with the Bellman, overseeing a doc.u.ment that I found out later was my termination warrant. I had Deane's gun pointed at Deane; he had his hands up. Heep and Tweed exchanged nervous glances.

'I've brought you Deane, Bellman,' I announced. 'I had no other way of proving my innocence. Vern, tell them what you told me.'

'Go to h.e.l.l!'

I whacked him hard on the back of the head with the b.u.t.t of his pistol and he fell to the ground, momentarily stunned. Blood welled up in his hairline and I winced; luckily, no one saw me.

'That's for Miss Havisham,' I told him.

'Miss Havisham?' echoed the Bellman.

'Oh yes,' I replied. 'b.a.s.t.a.r.d.'

Deane touched the back of his head and looked at his hand.

'b.i.t.c.h!' he muttered. 'I'd have killed you, too!'

He turned and leaped at me with surprising speed, grasping me by the throat before I could stop him, and we both crashed to the floor, knocking over a table as we went. It was an impressive charade.

'The little s.l.u.t serving wench deserved to die!' he screamed. 'How dare she spoil the happy life that could have been mine!'

I couldn't breathe and started to black out. I had wanted it to look realistic and so, I suppose, did he.

Tweed placed a gun under Deane's chin and forced him off. He spat in my face as I lay there, trying to get my breath back. Deane was then set upon by Heep, who took an unhealthy delight in beating him despite the fact that he apologised in a supercilious manner every time he struck him.

'Stop!' yelled the Bellman. 'Calm down, all of you!'

They propped the now bleeding Deane in a chair and Heep bound his hands.

'Did you kill Perkins?' asked the Bellman and Deane nodded sullenly.

'He was going to blow the whistle on me Havisham too. Snell and Mathias just got in the way.

Happiness should have been mine!' he sobbed. 'Why did the s.l.u.t have to turn up with that little b.a.s.t.a.r.d? I should have married Miss O'Shaugnessy all I wanted was something no evil squire in Farquitt ever gets-!'

'And what was that?' asked the Bellman sternly.

'A happy ending.'

'Pitiful, wouldn't you say, Tweed?'

'Pitiful, yes, sir,' he replied stonily, staring at me as I picked myself off the floor.

The Bellman tore up my termination order.

'It looks as if we have underestimated you,' said the Bellman happily. 'I knew Havisham couldn't be wrong. Tweed, I think you owe Miss Next an apology.'

'I apologise unreservedly,' said Tweed through gritted teeth.

'Good,' said the Bellman. 'Now, Thursday, what's the problem with UltraWord?'

It was a sticky moment. We had to take this higher than the Bellman. With Libris and the whole of Text Grand Central involved, there was no knowing what they would do. I remembered an error from an early UltraWord test version.

'Well,' I began, 'I think there is a flight manual conflict. If you read an UltraWord book on an airship, it can play havoc with the flight manuals.'

'That's been cured,' said the Bellman kindly, 'but thank you for being so diligent.'

'That's a relief,' I replied. 'May I have some leave?'

'Of course. And if you find any other irregularities in UltraWord, I want them brought to me and me alone.'

'Yes, sir. May I?'

I indicated my TravelBook.

'Of course! Very impressive job capturing Deane, don't you think, Tweed?'

'Yes,' replied Tweed grimly, 'very impressive well done, Next.'

I opened my TravelBook and read myself to Solomon's outer office. Tweed wouldn't try anything at the C of G, and the following three days were crucial. Everything I needed to say to the Bellman would have to wait until I had seven million witnesses.

32.

The 923rd Annual BookWorld Awards 'The annual BookWorld Awards (or Bookies) were instigated in 1063 CE and for the first two hundred years were dominated by Aeschylus and Homer, who won most of the awards in the thirty or so categories. Following the expansion in fiction and the inclusion of the oral tradition, categories totalled two hundred by 1423. Technical awards were introduced twenty years later and included "Most-Used English Word" and the "Most Widely Mispelt Word", witch has remained a contentious subject ever since. By 1879 there were over six hundred categories but neither the length of the awards nor the vote-rigging scandal in 1964 dented the popularity of this glittering occasion it will remain one of the BookWorld's most popular fixtures for years to come.'

CMDR TRAFFORD BRADSHAW, CBE Bradshaw's Guide to the BookWorld I stood offstage at the Starlight Room, one in a long line of equally minor celebrities, all awaiting our turn to go and read the nominations. The hospitality lounge where we had all been mustered was about the size of a football pitch, and the ma.s.sed babble of excited voices sounded like rushing water. I had been trying to avoid Tweed all evening. But whenever I lost him Heep would take over. There were others about, too. Bradshaw had pointed out Orlick and Legree, two other a.s.sistants of Tweed's that he thought I should be wary of.

Of them all, Heep was the most amateur. His skills at un.o.bserved observation were woefully inadequate.

'Well!' he said when I caught him staring at me. 'You and me both waiting for awards!' He rubbed his hands and tapped his long fingers together. 'I ask you, me all humble and you an Outlander. Thanks to you and the mispeling incident I'm up for "Most Creepy Character in a d.i.c.kens Novel". What would you be up for?'

'I'm giving one, not accepting one, Uriah and why are you following me?'

'Apologies, ma'am,' he said, squirming slightly and clasping his hands together to try to stop them moving. 'Mr Tweed asked me to keep a particular close eye on you in case of an attack, ma'am.'

'Oh yes?' I replied, unimpressed by the lame cover story. 'From whom?'

'Those who would wish you harm, of course. ProCaths, bowdlerisers even the townspeople from Shadow Shadow. It was them what tried to kill you at Solomon's, I'll be bound.'

Sadly, it was true. There had been two attempts on my life since Deane's arrest. The first had been a tiger released in Kenneth's office. I thought at first it was Big Martin catching up with me but it wasn't.

Bradshaw had dealt with the creature; he sent it on a one-way trip to Zen.o.bians Zen.o.bians. The second had been a contract killing. Fortunately for me Heep's handwriting was pretty poor and Thursby from The Maltese The Maltese Falcon Falcon was shot instead. It was only because I was an Outlander that I was still alive if I'd been a Generic I could have been erased at source long ago. was shot instead. It was only because I was an Outlander that I was still alive if I'd been a Generic I could have been erased at source long ago.

'Mr Tweed said that Outlanders have to stick together,' continued Heep, 'and look after each other.

Outlanders have a duty-'

'This is all really very sweet of him,' I interrupted, 'but I can look after myself. Good luck with your award; I'm sure you'll win.'

'Thank you!' he said, fidgeting for a moment before moving off a little way and continuing to stare at me in an unsubtle manner.

I was summoned towards the stage, where I could see the master of ceremonies winding up the previous award. He reminded me of Adrian Lush all smiles, insincerity and bouffant hair.

'So,' he continued, ' "teleportation" a clear winner for the "Most Implausible Premise in an SF Novel"

which was hard luck on "And they lived happily after" which won last year. If I could thank all the nominees and especially Ginger Hebblethwaite for presenting it.'

There was applause and a freckled youth in a flying jacket waved to the crowd and winked at me as he trotted offstage.

The MC took a deep breath and consulted his list. Unlike awards at home there was no TV coverage as no one in the BookWorld had a TV. You didn't need one. The Generics who had remained in the books as a skeleton staff to keep the stories in order were kept up to date with a live footnoterphone link from the Starlight Room. With all the usual characters away at the awards, fiction wasn't quite quite so good, but no one generally noticed. This was often the reason why people in the Outland argued over the quality of a recommended book. They had read it during the Bookies. so good, but no one generally noticed. This was often the reason why people in the Outland argued over the quality of a recommended book. They had read it during the Bookies.

'The next award, ladies, gentlemen and er things things, is to be given by the newest Jurisfiction agent to join the ranks of the BookWorld's own policing agency. Fresh from a glittering career in the Outland and engineer of the improved ending to Jane Eyre Jane Eyre, may I present Thursday Next-!'

There was applause and I walked on, smiling dutifully. I air-kissed the MC and looked out into the auditorium.

It was vast. Really Really vast. The Starlight Room was the largest single function room ever described in any book. A lit candelabrum graced each of the hundred thousand tables, and as I looked into the room all I Jasper Fforde - Thursday Next 03 - The Well of Lost Plots vast. The Starlight Room was the largest single function room ever described in any book. A lit candelabrum graced each of the hundred thousand tables, and as I looked into the room all I could see was a never-ending field of white lights, flickering in the distance like stars. Seven million characters were here tonight, but by using a very convenient temporal field displacement technology borrowed from the boys in the SF genre, everyone in the room had a table right next to the stage and could hear and see us with no problems at all.

'Good evening,' I said, staring out at the sea of faces, 'I am here to read the nominations and announce the winner of the "Best Chapter Opening in the English Language" category.'

I started to feel hot under the lights. I composed myself and read the back of the envelope.

'The nominations are: The Fall of the House of Usher The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allan Poe, by Edgar Allan Poe, Brideshead Revisited Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh, and by Evelyn Waugh, and A Tale of Two Cities A Tale of Two Cities by Charles d.i.c.kens.' by Charles d.i.c.kens.'

I waited until the applause had stopped and then opened the envelope.

'And the winner is ...' I announced. '... Brideshead Revisited Brideshead Revisited!'

There was thunderous applause and I smiled dutifully as the MC bent closer to the microphone.

'Wonderful!' he said enthusiastically as the applause subsided. 'Let's hear the winning paragraph, shall we?'

He placed the short section of writing into the ImaginoTransference device that had been installed on the stage. But this wasn't a recording ITRD like the ones they used to create books in the Well it was a transmitter. The words of Waugh's story were read by the machine and projected directly into the audience's imagination.

' I have been here before I have been here before,' I said; I had been there before; first with Sebastian more than I said; I had been there before; first with Sebastian more than twenty years ago on a cloudless day in June, when the ditches were creamy with twenty years ago on a cloudless day in June, when the ditches were creamy with meadowsweet and the air heavy with the scents of summer; it was a day of peculiar meadowsweet and the air heavy with the scents of summer; it was a day of peculiar splendour, and although I had been there so often, in so many moods, it was to that first splendour, and although I had been there so often, in so many moods, it was to that first visit that my heart returned on this, my latest ... visit that my heart returned on this, my latest ...

There was more applause from the guests, and when finally it stopped the MC announced: 'Mr Waugh can't be with us tonight so I would like to ask Sebastian to accept the award on his behalf.'

There was a drum roll and a brief alarum of music as Sebastian walked from his table up the steps to the podium, and after kissing me on the cheek he shook the MC warmly by the hand.

'Goodness!' he said, taking a swig from the gla.s.s he had brought with him. 'It's a great honour to accept the award on behalf of Mr Waugh. I know he would want me to thank Charles, from whose mouth all the words spring, and also Lord Marchmain for his excellent death scene, my mother, of course, and Julia, Cords-'

'What about me?' said a small voice from the Brideshead Brideshead table. table.

'I was getting to you, Aloysius.'

He cleared his throat and took another swig.

'Of course, I would also like to say that we in Brideshead Brideshead could not have done it all on our own. I'd like to thank all the other characters in previous works who have done so much to lay the groundwork. I'd particularly like to mention Captain Grimes, Margot Metroland, and Lord Copper. In addition ...' could not have done it all on our own. I'd like to thank all the other characters in previous works who have done so much to lay the groundwork. I'd particularly like to mention Captain Grimes, Margot Metroland, and Lord Copper. In addition ...'

He droned on like this for almost twenty minutes, thanking everyone he could think of before finally taking the 'Bookie' statuette and returning to his table. I was thanked by the MC and walked off the stage feeling really quite relieved, the voice of the MC echoing behind me: 'And for the next category, "Most Incomprehensible Plot in Any Genre", we are very pleased to welcome someone who has kindly taken a few hours' leave of his gruelling schedule of s.a.d.i.s.tic galactic domination. Ladies, gentlemen and things, His Supreme Holiness Emperor Zhark-!'

'You're on,' I whispered to the emperor, who was trying to calm his nerves with a quick cigarette in the wings.

'How do I look?' he asked. 'Enough to strike terror into the hearts of millions of merciless life forms?'

'Terrifying,' I told him. 'Have you got the envelope?'

He patted his thick black cloak until he found it and held it up, gave a wan smile, took a deep breath and strode purposefully on to the stage to screams of terror and boos.

I re-entered the Starlight Room as the 'Most Incomprehensible Plot' was awarded for the fifth year running to The Magus The Magus. I glanced at my watch. There was an hour to go until the last and most prestigious award was due to be announced the 'Most Troubled Romantic Lead (Male)'. It was a hot contest and the odds had been fluctuating all day. Heathcliff was the clear favourite at 7-2. He had won it seventy-six times in a row and, ever conscious of someone trying to steal his thunder, he had been altering his words and actions subtly to keep the crown firmly on his head, something the opposition had also been attempting. Jude Fawley had been trying to spike his own plot to add drama and even Hamlet was not averse to a subtle amount of plot-shifting; he had hammed up his madness so much he had to be sent on a cruise to calm him down.

I pa.s.sed a table populated entirely by rabbits.

'Waiter!' called one of them, thumping his rear paw to get attention. 'More dandelion leaves for table eight, if you please, sir!'

'Good evening, Miss Next.'

It was the Bradshaws; I was glad to see that they had not been swayed by convention Mrs Bradshaw had decided to attend after all.

'Good evening, Commander, good evening, Mrs Bradshaw nice dress you're wearing.'

'Do you think so?' asked Mrs Bradshaw slightly nervously. 'Trafford wanted me to wear something full length but I think this little Coco Chanel c.o.c.ktail number is rather fetching, don't you?'

'Black suits your eyes,' I told her, and she smiled demurely.

'I've got the thing thing you wanted me to keep for you,' whispered Bradshaw under his breath. 'Appreciate a girl who knows how to delegate say the word and it's yours!' you wanted me to keep for you,' whispered Bradshaw under his breath. 'Appreciate a girl who knows how to delegate say the word and it's yours!'

'I'm waiting for the announcement of UltraWord,' I hissed. 'Tweed is on my back; don't let him get it no matter what!'

'Don't worry your little head about that that,' he said, nodding towards Mrs Bradshaw. 'The memsahib's in the loop she may look a delicate thing but by St George she's a fearful la.s.s when riled.'