Books Unfolded

The bookmobile shuttered to a stop. The grinding of the parking brake settled the large lumbering vehicle like an elephant stopping from a run to get a drink. The body shook as someone moved within.

The back door opened first. A small door meant more for people than freight. A small man came out. He wore a yellow raincoat with a bright hood to keep off the rain. He moved slow, using a cane as a hook to pull down a roll of canvas attached to the side of the book mobile. Two poles unfolded as the tarp created a makeshift roof.

Next the man began flipping latches. Brass fittings filled the side of the bookmobile. Big ones right down the middle. Small ones that held little hinges tight. A single latch that caused the entire side of the bookmobile to loosen with a visible sag as the fusion of metal and wood released to be reformed.

The small man patted the side of the bookmobile. Good girl, he said and began fussing with the components.

Within a few minutes, shelves full of books unfolded. They swung out and locked into place. They shifted and rolled into position. Small hands pulled deft mechanisms to create display after display. Last, a small set of stairs retracted to lead inside where more shelves lay under a soft yellow glow of ancient bulbs. The man double checked everything, found it all tight and set for the afternoon.

Excuse me, sir, said a uniformed security guard. You know you can't park that here.

Knowledge can be found anywhere, dear sir, the small man said.

The guard said, Mister, that might be, but last time it took the city all afternoon to dig this thing out of the sand. Now pack up and move off the beach.

The small man stood defiant. The security guard sighed. The police were called, the library got the stolen bookmobile back, and the bookmobile was dug out of the sand once again.