Story: Wordspace, XXIII [Obsoleted]

(Part I , XXII , XXIV)

The punctuation dust billowed on the horizon, periods flying highest into the air while the commas and semi-colons wobbled about, imbalanced in the atmosphere of the Wordspace.

Mystery stood watching the horizon, events having overtaken its own importance, and feeling unusually alone. Its stalwart and taciturn companion Club was off with War's army, preparing for the possible Battle of the Zone of Meaningless Jargon, and all that were left around him were the Lesser and Greater Abstracts that had no immediate value in a conflict. A conflict that had been unthinkable a few short days ago.

The Council was meeting. Mystery perambulated over and listened. As the meeting progressed a question shifted over it like a particularly warm blanket in the cold season. No-one else had mentioned the missing Change even once, in this meeting, or in any meeting he had ever attended. It was the greatest error of omission it could remember, and one that was totally absolute. No-one was talking about that phantom word now, despite its not being in the legion that had been retrieved from their exiles. Mystery drifted over to its old friend Wimsy and whispered a light summons, and then gathered up a loitering Dereliction on the way. Dereliction always had a good stock of gossip on hand, the best source of information now with Gossip absent with another group.

Wimsy spoke up first once they reached a small and comfortable dip in the firmament of the world. "You look as if you've had a few too many days under the strain, old chap. Getting a bit blank and stary, I'm afraid."

Dereliction chuckled, and added, "You could take a few days and sleep, if not for this massive disaster!"

"Yes, this massive disaster. It's linked to something we haven't talked about yet. Have either of you ever heard anyone talk about Change?" Mystery tried to downplay it as much as possible.

"Change?" Wimsy started suddenly. "Change... I've never heard anyone mention it at all outside of the records. That was my predecessor's time, I'm afraid, and it seemed to be preoccupied with limericks and verse at the time." Wimsy shuddered; It had never liked verse and ran to ballads and riddles instead. Dereliction was silent.

"Yes, Change was in my predecessor's time too, and it features prominently in its notes, but why not a word in any meeting I've attended. We've had debates and dialogues on the nature of the Destructives, always ending up in maintaining the status quo. Never, though, a word on Change."

Dereliction looked pained, and then shuffled. Its capacity for silence was never great.

"Come on, spit it out, old chap!" Wimsy urged their silent companion.

"The Wordspace never speaks of Change," began Dereliction, "but that doesn't mean that no-one does." It looked up at the sky, and began to tell a tale. "Once, I was asleep in the back of a Council meeting..."

There shall be more...