Ponder and his fellow students watched Hex carefully.
"It can't just, you know, stop," said Adrian 'Mad Drongo' Turnipseed.
"The ants are just standing still," said Ponder. He sighed. "All right, put the wretched thing back."
Adrian carefully replaced the small fluffy teddy bear above Hex's keyboard. Things immediately began to whirr. The ants started to trot again. The mouse squeaked.
They'd tried this three times.
Ponder looked again at the single sentence Hex had written.
+++ Mine! Waaaah! +++
"I don't actually think," he said gloomily, "that I want to tell the Archchancellor that this machine stops working if we take its fluffy teddy bear away. I just don't think I want to live in that kind of world."
"Er," said Mad Drongo, "you could always, you know, sort of say it needs to work with the FTB enabled ...?"
"You think that's better?" said Ponder, reluctantly. It wasn't as if it was even a very realistic interpretation of a bear.
"You mean, better than 'fluffy teddy bear'?"
Ponder nodded. "It's better," he said.
Finished -- and there will have to be an instant reread. My life needs this right now. Urgently.
A French buddy read with Tannat (who doesn't seem terribly inclined to make progress rapidly with this book, either) -- and since it's not only a book originally written in a language other than English, and in a language different from my mother tongue (plus, a book by a Québecois, i.e., non-Anglo-Saxon author), I'm also counting it towards square 7 of the 16 Festive Tasks (International Human Rights Day).
Vivre au Max is the first half of a two-part novel entitled Le vide ("the void," "the emptiness"). It's also the title of a TV show which, if it were real, would make the likes of Jerry Springer look like innocent choir boys. The show promises to fulfill three candidates' wildest and most unreachable dreams per episode (at least 2 out of 3 of these dreams, or "trips," typically being sordid beyond compare): "au max" is a word play on both "to the max" and its creator's and host's name -- Maxime Lavoie, former president and CEO of a ski apparel company founded by his father; a position, that Max (a would-be humanitarian and intellectual) had taken on only half-heartedly to begin with, and quickly got fed up with when he realized that his high-flying notions to turn the company into a model of social virtues -- at the shareholders' cost -- were not going to be put into practice in any way that would have counted.
Max Lavoie is one of three men on which the story centers; the other two are a cop named Pierre Sauvé, who is investigating a quadruple shooting that initially looks every bit like a case of violent domestic revenge, and a psychologist named Fédéric Farland, who ... well, let's just say that having gotten bored with life's ordinary thrills, he is seeking ever more exotic and dangerous ones. Of the three protagonists, I really only ever took to Pierre -- certainly not Frédéric, whom I hated pretty much from the first page of his appearance (and not merely for his utter amorality and contempt of life); and while I was unsure initially about Max, he lost my sympathy when I had clued into where the story was headed. Not that I feel very much like bothering to find out: I still don't get what, deep down, Mr. Senécal's point in writing this book ultimately might have been, but I don't care about two of the three principal characters, and if the story is headed anywhere near where I think it is headed, it's not the sort of thing I need in my life at all.
That said, the buddy read has accomplished its primary goal, in bringing back the fun of reading something in a different language than German or (mostly) English. So Tannat, if / whenever you finish this and aren't too ennuie on your part, I'd definitely be up for another one ...
"And there's the sign, Ridcully," said the Dean. "you have read it, I assume. You know? The sign which says 'Do not, under any circumstances, open this door'?"
"Of course I've read it," said Ridcully. "Why d'yer think I want it opened?"
"Er ... why?" said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
"To see why they wanted it shut, of course."*
*This exchange contains almost all you need to know about human civilization. At least, those bits of it that are not under the sea, fenced off or still smoking.
"I'm in charge here and I want a bathroom of my own," said Ridcully firmly. "And that's all there is to it, all right? I want a bathroom in time for Hogswatchnight, understand?"
And that's a problem with beginnings, of course. Sometimes, when you're dealing with occult realms that have quite a different attitude to time, you get the effect a little way before the cause.
Oh, it's good to be back with Sir Terry at the height of his powers -- I feel like sharing every other page. And of course Ridcully would have done better curbing his curiosity about that door ...
So, alright, Maxime Lavoie was a somewhat unwilling heir to his father's position as president and CEO of Lavoie Inc., but vowed to do good with his fortune and, having apparently found this to be an unresolvable conflict he goes and creates a TV show compared to which Jerry Springer's is a paragon of virtue ...? WTF?
And was it this show's theme ("realize your most unreachable dream") that gave Nadeau the idea to kill her ex-husband and his new girlfriend and twin sons?
And what's up with the four killers who sent Nadeau and the cops guarding her to her death?
It occurs to me, btw, that since the author is Québecois and the book was written in French, I can use this book as my read for International Human Rights Day for the 16 Festive Tasks: "Read a book originally written in another language (i.e., not in English and not in your mother tongue), –OR– a book written by anyone not anglo-saxon." So that's what I'll be doing.