A Modernish Fairy Tale
Created | Updated Jun 25, 2002
Once upon a time...
in the dense forest called London, there lived a poor author. He had a beautiful daughter, whom he thought was well-deserved to be the Queen. Of course, the King had no wife, and so the author saw his perfect opportunity. He called on the King and told him that his daughter was possessed of magical powers, such as never had been seen before. "My daughter," he proclaimed, "can spin the ordinary word into eloquent prose." The King stroked his chin thoughtfully, as these were no mere powers. The kingdom had been long deprived of worthwhile reading.
"Very well," agreed the King. "Bring to me your daughter. I will keep her for three nights to test her abilities, and see if I find her worthy to be my Queen."
As the author sped home in his battered Ford, he wondered if perhaps he had made too great a claim. "Ah well," he thought to himself, "that's for her to sort out!" And so he informed his daughter that she was to head off to the castle the next day and earn the title of Queen. She folded her arms and leveled a haughty glare at him, but being rather stubborn and having a bit of faith in her ability to write, she nodded and went off to see the King.
"Ah, Kate," the King greeted her. "Your father tells me that you have writing skills that far surpass those of the other maidens in this kingdom. Three nights, you have, and three tasks to complete. The work you create must be of the highest standards - for we here in the kingdom are discriminating readers. And if you fail, you shall be forever disconnected from the Internet.
"For your first task, you are to report to the "The Manifesto to Rename "Thursday" Thing thread", and write a witty response."
Kate nodded confidently and was sent off to the Towers where she might find some peace and quiet (as it was a Tuesday afternoon, and no one was working) and given only a Gateway with a Celeron Processor. She settled in before the keyboard, mug of coffee in her hand and began to think. She read through the thread (which took the better part of the night), and by dawn, her eyes were tired, her mind was boggling, and her sense of humour was severely overworked. She pecked out a post but looked at it uncertainly, not feeling very confident that it would earn the King's approval.
Trying not to listen to the clock tick off the passing time, Kate began to fret. As the daybreak approached, she started to despair.
"Oh blasted me!" she cried out, "Is there NO ONE that can help me?"
Suddenly there was a loud fluttering, and a muffled sputtering, and in a sudden puff of smoke, there stood a wee little man. He stood only about 4'5" tall, with a tousled mop of sandy hair. He was decked out in a shiny yet alarmingly wrinkled business suit in the deepest shade of blue, and a horrible alabaster tie. Kate blinked at him in disbelief (it was a REALLY horrible shade of alabaster), and wondered what to do.
"Yes, hello, then," he chirped cheerily, "I hear you are in need of some help?"
Kate looked at this little man dubiously, but shrugged and decided it couldn't hurt. If it would save her from being cut off from the Internet (a fate far worse than the cruelest death) then it was worth a try. "Yes, I am. Quite. I'm to turn out a witty post regarding this "Manifesto To Rename Thursday "Thing", but I haven't got the foggiest clue whether I'm on the right track. If I don't have one ready by Sunrise, then I shall be forever disconnected from the Internet."
The little man gasped in great horror, and clapped his hands to his cheeks. "I will help you then, for that is a fate no person should face. However, I do have my price."
"Anything!" Kate exclaimed, already feeling greatly relieved, and planning her next day of posting mindlessly in various threads.
"Very well then, if you'll just go to this URL here, and click on that button there, that says you comply with all of Terms and Conditions as set forth by the BBC, then I shall be more than happy to get this going for you."
As was typical of her (and many others) Kate scanned the agreement, looking mainly for anything that mentioned money. Finding no such mention, she decided it was safe enough and clicked happily on the button. With that, the little man read over her post with blinding speed and leaned over her shoulder. His hands flashed across the keyboard and he began to mutter under his breath. Kate tried to listen but the only word she could make out was "Asterisks". Finally he stood, harumphed triumphantly and disappeared in a flash of smoke.
Kate looked round the room, bewildered. She looked at her screen, and saw that her post had been sent. "Well then," she sighed, "we shall see how it goes!"
Sunrise came quickly, and the King entered exactly on time. Asking no questions, he pressed a few buttons and looked at Kate doubtfully. "Now we shall see whether your father spoke the truth," he said, and read over her shoulder. "Droll," he remarked dryly. "I suppose that will suffice."
Kate let out a sigh of relief, glad to have passed her first test.
"Now then," the King remarked, "for your second task, you shall report to the "Talking Point" forum, and leave another witty post in response to the one of the threads there. However, this time, it must also be of a decent length, and not just a brief, smiley punctuated bon-mot." And with that, he strode off down the hall again, leaving Kate to sit with her head in her hands.
Once again, time ticked by agonizingly, and Kate read through the thread, hoping to arm herself with enough information to form a suitable reply. Finally she typed out what she thought would be a sufficient post, but again, was not so confident that the King would agree. She was surprised to find herself actually hoping for the odd little man from the night before, and within seconds, he appeared again, wearing the same hideous outfit, and his hair looking even more disheveled than ever.
"Yes, I see you are still here," he trilled happily, and leaned over to read what she had written. Once again, his hands began to flit across the keyboard, and he began to mutter under his breath (this time, all she could make out was "...give proper credit... quotation marks... original author") and then stood up abruptly, looking rather smug.
"Yes, yes, that should do it." He waved his hands dramatically and disappeared in another cloud of smoke. Feeling less apprehensive this time, Kate leaned back in her chair and smiled up at the ceiling. This was all going rather well.
Another sunrise came round, and the King appeared once again to review what she had turned out. He even managed a chuckle, much to Kate's great delight. "Yes, yes, very good," he nodded. "This is just the sort of thing we like to see around here." He tapped his cheek a bit and looked at Kate speculatively. Finally, his face lit up and he smiled.
"Excellent. For your final task, you shall have the opportunity to truly prove your great skill. For this is no small undertaking. You have until sunrise to turn out a Guide Entry that makes it through the Peer Review, Scouting and Sub-Editing Process, and achieves publication in the Great H2G2 Guide. If you can meet this challenge, then I shall take you as my wife."
Kate felt her heart sink. This was no easy task. She had previously tried to submit to the Guide, but had come up mysteriously short each time. As she watched the King retreat down the hall one last time, she racked her brain trying to come up with an idea. "Yes!" she would think to herself, only to consult the Guide to find that it had already been written. "Perfect!" she would exclaim, only to realize that it was really a rather pointless topic. She began to twirl her hair aimlessly, and as the sky outside began to lighten, she started to give up. "Little Man," she wailed, "Please, come and give me some direction. I need an Idea."
Exactly on cue, the little man appeared once more, in a suit printed all over with the number 42. She also began to notice that his mop-top hair was beginning to thin rather badly towards the back. Must be quite the task, she mused to herself, to go over all these posts.
"Your last night, m'lady," he said with a grand bow. "May I be of assistance to you one last time?"
"Yes," she said, trying not to let the desperation in her voice show. "I just need an idea. I am certain that I can turn out a Great Guide Entry, if only I knew what to write it on."
"An Idea? That is all you wish for me to provide to you?" He looked at her a little skeptically. "Are you certain?" Kate nodded enthusiastically, trying not to notice the time. "Very well then," he agreed, and he leaned over and whispered in her ear.
"Yes! Of course!" she exclaimed. "Why didn't I think of that myself?" and excitedly she bent over the keyboard, and began typing furiously, racing the sun. Just as the sun broke over the horizon, sending pale rays scattering across the desk, she pressed "Add Guide Entry" with a profound sense of relief.
As scheduled, the King arrived, this time accompanied by a Researcher, a Scout and a Sub-Editor. Kate sized them up nervously, suddenly wondering if she had made a horrible mistake. She watched as the Researcher sat at the desk, reading over her Guide Entry very carefully. After a long silence, he nodded, and looked to the Scout. "Good for Peer Review," he proclaimed, and rose from the chair.
The Scout smiled faintly and sat down in the chair. She read, and reread, and made thoughtful little noises. She tapped her nose pensively, and pulled on her ear. Finally, she stood up and nodded to the Sub-Editor. "Yes, I think maybe so," she announced, and stood up, holding the chair out for the Sub-Editor, who sat down and gazed at the monitor with head cocked, and one eye squinted. For the longest time, he sat there, studying, chewing on a fingernail. Then, abruptly, he began to type, backspace, and insert, all with amazing precision. After a flurry of changes, he stood up and smiled to the King.
"All set for you," the Sub-Editor said, and stood aside. The King looked at Kate for a long moment, and walked over to the computer. The true nervousness began to set in, and Kate felt herself go flush. She shifted from foot to foot, and paced to and fro as the King stood in front of the monitor and read (rather slowly, she thought) with his hands clasped behind his back. He nodded occasionally, and hmmmed thoughtfully from time to time. Finally he turned round and looked at Kate for a very long time. "Excellent!" he finally announced, "It shall be published straightaway!" and the four of them left the room chattering goodnaturedly.
Just as she raised her arms over her head triumphantly, there was another burst of fluttering and muttering, and there again stood the little man, looking as pleased as punch.
"What do you want?" Kate asked warily.
"I've come to collect my end of the agreement," the little man crowed.
"Er, collect?" This was starting to sound a little worrisome, Kate thought.
"Yes, yes. As you agreed in the Terms and Conditions, I am now exercising my right to moderate your entry as befits the Tower Powers That Be. You agreed to it, don't you remember?"
"Ah yes, well I didn't actually READ that bit," Kate said dismissively. This little man with his horrid clothes and thinning hair was beginning to grate on her nerves, and she didn't want to be bothered.
"Well you may not have read it, my dear, but you certainly agreed to it. And therefore, I shall now moderate your little entry until it fits in with the Terms and Conditions."
Kate had felt quite proud of her submission, and even prouder still that it had made it through the process. The thought of it being moderated was absolutely horrid to her. She knew she hadn't written anything illegal, or offensive, but the very thought of her precious work being bandied about in the moderation process made her queasy.
"Please," she begged, "I can't bear the thought of it. Please tell me what I can do to get you to leave my work as it is. Name your price."
The man looked at her for a moment, the sad sight of this poor woman whose brainchild was threatened with being put under the knife. In a moment of rare empathy, he nodded slowly. "Fine then," he declared, "since I am tired of being known as one of the Italics, if you can guess my real name in three guesses, then I shall spare you the route of Moderation. But only this once!"
Kate looked at him, alarmed. How on Earth would she ever figure out what his name was? The man stood before her, smiling sweetly. Kate stared at him, flummoxed.
"Archibald?" she hazarded, knowing already that it wasn't. He simply blinked at her, and adjusted his collar casually.
"Mortimer!" she exclaimed, although she knew that wasn't the case either. He smiled vaguely, and tugged on his tie nonchalantly.
Just as she was about to blurt out a final guess in desperation, she noticed that as he tugged on his tie, he was also yanking on a leather lanyard, which apparently attached to some sort of badge. With each yank, the badge would peek out from behind his tie. She tried to read it without being obvious, and hid a grin behind her hand.
"Hmmmm" she sighed, trying now to sound exasperated. "No... it wouldn't be... is it? Rumplemoderator??"
The little man's face went ashen white. "How did you guess that?" he shrieked. "Who told you!" His voice was now trembling, and with one final sob, he turned around and fled the Towers, never to be seen again. (This is, after all a fairy tale)
And they lived unmoderatedly ever after.
