Maximillian the Meticulous

 

Max heard the chime notifying him that his delivery had arrived in the box attached to his safe room. He had time. It would take the box a few minutes to run its decontamination program. Even though he was in a hurry to see what had arrived from his black-market contact, there was no rush. He would finish his toilet. He brushed his teeth and combed his short gray hair. He took the time to wash and polish his glasses and run a razor over his morning stubble. He slipped on his sweats and headed for the waiting package.

Each month Max paid an enormous amount to procure a package such as this. Sometimes the contents were worth the price and more… Sometimes he was gravely disappointed. He hoped this month would bring something worthwhile. He was expecting company and wanted to show it off.

He slipped into the safe room and dawned his hazmat suit. Even though the package contents went through the decontamination process, it wasn’t safe to touch until further steps had been taken. He lifted the box up to the desk he had in one corner of the room. He was a little disappointed when he saw there was only one item in the package. Pickings were getting slim out there in the Cull infested world.

The item was wrapped in shrink-wrap. It had a bold red, black and white warning band circling it.

 

WARNING!

The Surgeon General has declared Paperbound Books to be Hazardous to Your Health!

OPEN AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Contents most likely Contain Cull Virus!

 

Max was old enough to remember his parents reading to him prior to the Cauldronvirus descending on the world population. His father was a teacher, his mother a librarian. Both held a great respect for books and the knowledge they contained. He followed in their footsteps and become a teacher himself. He had students all over the globe who took his literature classes to pass their university exams. He was extremely popular. Max attributed that to his parents instilling in him the worth of books and reading.

When the Cull ran rampant across the globe, and it was found that the virus attached itself to paper as well as other porous materials, books (paper items of all sorts), started to be the enemy. First newspaper delivery ceased. It was rationalized by many that they could obtain their news from the television or off the internet. Next postal delivery became suspect and tens of thousands of government postal workers were put out of jobs. Email became the choice for correspondence.

The last to fall were the books. Fear and misinformation pushed people to do irrational things. The library of congress went up in flames as people in Washington, DC stood back and cheered.

For years Max’s parents kept their book collection hidden in the basement so it couldn’t be seen through the windows. When Max’s parents died of natural causes, Max took the master bedroom on the second floor, knocked out the wall to the adjoining bedroom and created a library. He walled up the windows. There were still radicals out there that might report a person for having a collection such as his. He built bookshelves from floor to ceiling to house the family books and his ever-expanding collection.

His friend in the black-market trade found him a heavy library table. He had to cut it in half to get it up the stairs, but it made a beautiful centerpiece in the room once he put it back together and surrounded it with comfortable reading chairs.

He held his little monthly soirees at that table. Through his black-market connection, he found banker’s lights for the table. He built a bar in the corner for sherry and liqueurs and installed a hot pot for tea. It was a perfect meeting place.

 

Max turned on the desk UV light and got his disinfectant wipes out of the drawer. He broke the seal on the book and unwrapped it. He couldn’t believe his luck this month. Books were getting harder and harder to find. He was delighted with this purchase. It was one he had on his Wishlist. His contact would find a big tip when he delivered next month’s finds.

He sat down and began the painstaking cleaning of each page of the volume. It would take most of the morning, but it would be worth it.

 

Later that evening Max watched through the plate-glass of his safe room as his guests devested themselves of their hazmat suits before entering his living room.

“It is so good to see you all,” he said as he took their coats. “I hope the walk over was not too eventful.”

“After the bear encounter last month, the raccoon family that took up residence at the old Hancock place seems tame,” Roger said with a grin.

Max’s friends were all old neighborhood chums. They had all grown up here. The area had a few gaps now due to deaths. Few people left an inheritance anymore. When someone passed, their things usually just wasted away, unclaimed. Few people wanted to take the time to clean, or the chance of bringing the Cull into their home.

The Hancock place had been empty for over twenty years. Max scrounged all the books from the home years ago. The Simpson place, three doors down, burned several years ago. Unfortunately, John was in the house at the time and died in the fire. Some said he was lucky. Dying in a fire was preferable to dying of the Cull.

“I enjoyed seeing the deer in the Simpson’s old lot. They are so curious,” Marilyn said.

“She wants to bring carrots next time to feed them, but I asked her if she trusted them not to puncture her glove,” her husband of fifty years said. Daniel handed over his coat.

“Not worth the risk I would say,” Thomas added. He was always the pessimist in the group.

“I do miss the old days. I loved my horse.” Marilyn looked as though she might cry at the thought of her lost childhood.

“Now, now,” Max said and patted her arm. This night was special. It was the only time, once a month, that he got to have physical contact with another human. “Let’s not start the night off in such a somber mood. I have a lovely surprise for you upstairs.”

He led the way to the library. He fussed about getting everyone settled with their drink of choice. Marilyn always had tea, Roger and Thomas liked Amaretto, and Daniel had a thing for Kahlua and Cream. Max always made a great effort to have cream on hand for his drink as well as for Marilyn’s tea. He put the tray of mini opera cakes out in the middle of the table with a server and placed a plate, fork and napkin in front of each guest before sitting down with his own tea.

“You spoil us, Maximilian,” Marilyn complimented him. She helped herself to a chocolate opera cake.

Thomas added his usual comment. “I honestly don’t know what I would do if we didn’t have this monthly get together.”

Followed by Roger’s standard joke. “You’d stay in your pajamas all month.”

They all laughed even though it was an old joke. This time together was special for all of them.

Thomas lived along. He had lost his wife almost five years ago. Women were more susceptible to Cull. She had encountered it at her volunteer workplace in the hospital. She never even made it home to say good-bye. It was quite tragic.

Roger was a bachelor too. His partner had died of an appendicitis attack. Everyone was afraid of hospitals and waited too long to have other ailments looked after.

 “Well, I have a treat for us all tonight. We can take turns reading aloud from my newly purchased volume. It is freshly cleaned and ready for handling.” Max opened the drawer on the end of the library table in front of him, pulled the book out and laid it on the table.

“Oh, my word!” Marilyn exclaimed turning her head to one side to make sure she read the title correctly.

“Damn, Max! Your black-market man is the best!” Roger literally crowed.

“Don’t make us wait, man,” Daniel urged.

“Yes, read, old boy,” Thomas ordered as he lifted his glass. “To one of the masters of fiction,” he toasted. “Ray Bradbury!”

Max lovingly caressed the book cover. Opening it gently to the first page he read:

“Fahrenheit 451.

Chapter One…The Hearth and the Salamander

It was a pleasure to burn.

It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed.”