Last Chance to See - Douglas Adams [97]
“Do you want them or not?”
“No.”
“Very well. I will trouble you for a little firewood.”
She built another bonfire and burnt three of the remaining books in front of them and then set off back across the plain.
That night one or two curious people from the city sneaked out and sifted through the embers to see if they could salvage the odd page or two, but the fire had burnt very thoroughly and the old woman had raked the ashes. There was nothing.
Another hard winter took its toll on the city and they had a little trouble with famine and disease, but trade was good and they were in reasonably good shape again by the following summer when, once again, the old woman appeared.
“You’re early this year,” they said to her.
“Less to carry,” she explained, showing them the three books she was still carrying. “A quarter of all the knowledge and wisdom in the world. Do you want it?”
“What’s the price?”
“Four sacks of gold.”
“You’re completely mad, old woman. Apart from anything else, our economy’s going through a bit of a sticky patch at the moment. Sacks of gold are completely out of the question.”
“Firewood, please.”
“Now wait a minute,” said the people of the city, “this isn’t doing anybody any good. We’ve been thinking about all this and we’ve put together a small committee to have a look at these books of yours. Let us evaluate them for a few months, see if they’re worth anything to us, and when you come back next year, perhaps we can put in some kind of a reasonable offer. We are not talking sacks of gold here, though.”
The old woman shook her head. “No,” she said. “Bring me the firewood.”
“It’ll cost you.”
“No matter,” said the woman, with a shrug. “The books will burn quite well by themselves.”
So saying, she set about shredding two of the books into pieces which then burnt easily. She set off swiftly across the plain and left the people of the city to face another year.
She was back in the late spring.
“Just the one left,” she said, putting it down on the ground in front of her. “So I was able to bring my own firewood.”
“How much?” said the people of the city.
“Sixteen sacks of gold.”
“We’d only budgeted for eight.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Wait here.”
The people of the city went off into a huddle and returned half an hour later.
“Sixteen sacks is all we’ve got left,” they pleaded, “times are hard. You must leave us with something.”
The old woman just hummed to herself as she started to pile the kindling together.
“All right!” they cried at last, opened up the gates of the city, and led out two ox carts, each laden with eight sacks of gold. “But it had better be good.”
“Thank you,” said the old woman, “it is. And you should have seen the rest of it.”
She led the two ox carts away across the plain with her, and left the people of the city to survive as best they could with the one remaining twelfth of all the knowledge and wisdom that had been in the world.
Acknowledgments
We would like to thank the following people for helping to make this project possible:
Gary “Arab” Aburn Reinaldo Green
Air France Terry Greene
Air Zaïre Linda Guess
Conrad and Ros Aveling Peter Guzzardi
Hilary Bass Bob Harris
Jane Belson Bruce Harris
Bill Black Rod Hay
Boss Kes and Fraser Hillman-Smith
Juan Carlos Cardenas Craig Hodsell
John Clements Liz Jarvis
Sue Colman Jersey Zoo
Peter and Linda Daniel Carl Jones
Mike and Dobbie Dobbins Zhou Kaiya
Phred Dobbins Aartee Khosla
Patty Eddy Kodak UK Ltd.
Margaret Edridge Jurgen Langer
Steven Faux Annette E. Lanjouw
John Fontana Lisa Lawley
Sue Freestone Alain le Garsmeur
Fuji Films Richard Lewis
Lisa Glass Roberto Lira
Michael Green London Zoo
Charles and Jane Mackie Putra Sastrawan
Marina Mahon Gaynor Shutte
Rob Malpas Ivan Leiva Silva
Andrew Martin Laurie Stark
Mark McCauslin Neville Stevenson
David