The Cutter Classification System

Here's the obligatory wearing-a-previous-year's-NaNoWriMo-shirt shot. Enjoy!

Yes, we got back on track yesterday and even more so today. An easy 2147 words describing a meeting between Charles Ammi Cutter and our good friend Melvil Dui. The two were contemporaries, both lived in Boston. Check this -- Cutter has a system of his own. It's called the Cutter Expansive Classification System and there's a reason you haven't heard of it (except for you librarians out there.) In comparison to the DDC, it is utter insanity. Just reading that "How Cutter call numbers are constructed" section in the Wikipedia article makes my head hurt.

Anyhow -- always a good idea to add another character. Spices things up. Moves things forward. Allows you to create dialog for someone else (not that all the characters don't have the exact same voice anyhow....*sigh*). Also, gives you room for some sort of conflict. Conflict as in someone-attempting-to-steal-Dui's-life-work kind of conflict. Oh yeah. I said it. This Cutter guy is a bad dude.

But not yet:

Dui spotted a Kenyan book -- though he used the term loosely: it was made up of sheets of paper fashioned from leaves, bound together with hempen string -- and gestured to it. "May I?" he asked.

Cutter nodded. "Of course, sir. Only, be careful. That is one of but 6 copies of that work."

Dui gingerly pulled the book from its shelf and opened it. The writing was all in strange figures and characters that he did not recognize.

"The Kenyan people have no written language. Theirs is an oral tradition. This was created at my request in an attempt to inscribe some of their stories and myths. Only I and 3 other people who accompanied me on the expedition know the true meaning of these symbols."

"This is incredible. You have helped a civilization to start down the path of a written language?"

Cutter shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, and no. The books were produced, but there was a faction of the population who were opposed to their creation. Violently opposed."

Dui looked up from the book. "Oh dear."

"Yes, indeed. The men with whom we created the book and developed the language, the women who prepared the leaves, the children who spun the string. They were all rounded up and executed. Viciously, and publicly. Two of my fellow travelers were also branded as heretics and killed as well. I was lucky to escape with my life."

"Did the other books survive?"

"We had an original run of 10. Three, I saw destroyed with my own eyes. I, myself managed to save three of them (two of which I gave away as gifts -- one to President Lincoln, the other to the King of Prussia). My fellow compatriots each have one."

Dui did the math. "That leaves one more."

"Yes," Cutter said gravely. "The location of the 10th book is unknown to me. Its disappearance is a most troublesome and disturbing mystery. I have spent many years in search of this book, but all my efforts have been for naught."

"That must be a very consuming and involving task," Dui supposed.

"Yes, it is, indeed. Much of my finances are tied up in the reacquisition of the book. I have men searching the globe for it, looking for any indication of its location, or any evidence that it even exists. They follow every rumor, every murmur, no matter how small or far-fetched. It has cost me dearly, this quest of mine."

"Not just in money, I would imagine."

"You are correct," Cutter said, his voice revealing the pain of a man who has lost a great many things dear to him. "It cost me many friends, my wife, and very nearly my sanity."

"You say it cost you your wife?" Dui asked, confused. "But Clarise is still with you, is she not?"

"She is," Cutter said. "Rather, she is back with me. I didn't always let others carry out the search on my behalf. I once traveled in service to the quest myself. She hated my constant absence, my sleepless nights, my furtive meetings with shadowy agents in the darkest corners of far flung lands. She couldn't rest knowing that I might be in danger, that she had no way of knowing whether I was safely ensconced in my hotel or out tracking down some clue purchased with blood, sweat, tears, and a considerable amount of money from some shady, unseemly ruffian who would just as soon slit my throat as he would give me the time of day."

"How did you convince her to return to you?"

"Well, as I said, I began to hire private detectives, agents who acted as my proxies. I now have a large network of men who act as my eyes and ears, and sometimes as my hands, all across the world. Only when there is a matter that requires my personal attention or intervention do I travel now. And always, I bring Clarise. These promises were what allowed me to convince my love to return to my arms."

"Do you not feel trapped by that? Wouldn't you rather be searching for the book yourself?"

"I admit that there is a part of me that wishes I was still out there, still on the hunt. It was terribly exciting, never knowing where the search would take me next. Never knowing what danger lurked around the next corner." Cutter sighed wistfully. "But no, I am an old man now. I leave that business to the younger lads. And truthfully, without my Clarise, I'm no good to anyone. I told her I would forgo looking for the book, that I would forget about its very existence, if it meant that she would come back to me."

"But you were able to compromise," Dui said.

"Yes. And that's the beauty of love, true love." Cutter smiled, his face transformed with thoughts of his wife.

"I'm surprised you came back to Boston without her."

"Well, she understands that it is important work that you and I are doing, and that her presence might simply be a distraction. Besides, it is frightfully cold here, and the children would be devastated if they couldn't have their winter in Florida. Yes, I miss my dear love, but we work for the greater good, and that is of the utmost importance."

"That's an incredibly healthy attitude, I must say."

"Needs must when the devil drives, Dewey. If the perfection of your classification system requires that I be apart from my wife, then so be it. It is of no great import in the grand scheme of things."