On Wed, 15 Jun 2016 07:54:33 -0700 (PDT), TheSanityInspector wrote in
message: <
146cb8e8-864a-4fc9...@googlegroups.com>:
>Once in his life a man [or woman] ought to concentrate his mind
>upon the remembered earth.
>-- Belden C. Lane, Landscapes of the Sacred, 2002
Richmond West 10's only bookseller exulted with every
sale he made to the would-be pioneers who passed through
here. Books, printed on paper, every one of them! Dead
tree technology! Information, that if carefully stored,
would last for millennia! And no batteries required.
It ought to be on a billboard, he thought.
If Humphrey Llewellyn III could have his way, every
book ever written would be treasured, at least one
copy bound in sheepskin and illuminated by monks (or
specifically by naked nuns, his predilection being
somewhat biased in that direction).
So now, he hoped, here was a chance to bring mankind
back into the book-loving fold. He gloated. There
was still no electronics in the pioneers worlds, was
there? Where was your internet? Hah! Where was
Google? Where was your mother's old Kindle? Your
iPad 25? Where was Wickedpedia? (Very primly, he
always called it that, just to show his disdain;
very few people noticed.)
All gone, unbelievers! All those fancy toy-gadgets
stuffed in drawers, screens blank as the eyes of
corpses, left behind. Books--oh yes, real books--
were flying off his shelves.
Out in the Long Earth humanity was starting again in
the Stone Age. It needed to know the old ways. It
needed to know what to eat and what not to eat. It
needed to know how to build an outdoor privy, and
how to manure fields with human and animal waste in
safe proportions. It needed to know about wells.
About shoemaking!
Yes, it had to know how to find iron ore, but also
how to work graphite, and how to make ink. And so
Humphrey's presses ran hot, with geological maps
and surveys and commonplace books and almanacs,
reclaiming the knowledge that had been all but
lost to the printed page.
He stroked a polished-leather volume. Oh, sooner
or later all that knowledge once more would be
precariously imprisoned by electricity. But for
now the books had been patient long enough,
and their time had come again.
--Terry Pratchett & Stephen Baxter
_The Long Earth_ [2012], Chapter 17
--
Steve