That Girl is Strange, No Question

Bellinda Abeille was strange, no question. She lived in the little French town of Conques. An invention had reached its very walls. Artificial intelligence. Everyone was enthralled. However, the Abeille’s were not. Bellinda detested the technology. It scared her. Maurice, her father, had always been a forward-thinking speaker. One day, nobody was listening anymore. Academics were destitute. The dependence on technology was dangerous and Maurice told them: ‘The rise of Artificial Intelligence brings the rise of Un-Intelligence. Un-Readers! Please children, don’t put down your books! Don’t close your mind!’ But they put them down. They closed their hearts, too. Monsieur Gaston, of Conques, had a boss who made mountains of money by taking people’s thoughts away. He shovelled out the AI robots. He gave them answers to their homework, so they didn’t have to do it themselves. He gave them self-driving cars, so they didn’t have to do it themselves. Gaston was proud. It was a new era, and his boss was filling his pockets. The AI centres were taking their fill too. The town started having water blockages. The water fountains got too hot to touch. Everyone’s new devices were self-cooling, so nobody was worried. The Abeille’s were. Alas, nobody was listening. The townspeople had stopped thinking independently. One day, Maurice told Bellinda he was going away. Bellinda followed him out of their doorway. ‘I have correspondences I can trust. I’ll be two days, honeybee.’

‘But Papa, will it work? Will they listen?’

‘I must try. We need thinkers. As I was once.’

‘You still are, Papa,’ Bellinda said, softly.

‘Not everyone closed their hearts. There is a library in the city. Still open,’ Bellinda thought of Monsieur Bouquin, the bookkeeper who’d shut down. ‘Would you like me to bring you something back?’

‘A journal. For ideas.’

‘Ah. It has been too long since I saw a journal used...’

‘I know, Papa,’ Bellinda reached up and kissed his cheek. She spotted something behind her father, hunkering and yellow. It was a smart car. Maurice stepped aside, eyeing the yellow tin can.

‘Ah. Le fiacre,’ he said, distastefully. ‘Drives quickly. Trust me. I am not happy to be using it. Borrowing from Gaston’s assistant. He wasn’t happy, but I used to teach him!’

‘Papa...’ Bellinda gripped his hand, and he calmed immediately.

‘Yes. I’m sorry Bell. I will see you soon.’

Bellinda wished him a safe travel and the car crawled away. Bellinda returned home, with a concrete wish that her Papa will find her a journal, alongside like-minded thinkers such as themselves. Conques needed them. Maurice trundled out of Conques’ lanes, heading north, for the frosty hills and dense trees. The car whistled and warbled, and Maurice fancied himself riding an oddly coloured horse, drudging a carriage with a sign on it: OPEN YOUR MINDS. OPEN YOUR BOOKS. But who would look up to read it? On he drove, until the lanes became thicker with snow, and he thought of Bellinda in their cottage.

A journal, he thought. For ideas! You’re your mother’s daughter, alright Bell.

Without warning, the car’s bright screen began flashing red. Maurice could hardly see out of the windows from the dense trees. Another wheeze, and a terrible lurch of his backside, and the car had unseated him in, shooting him out of the window screen. The so-called smart car had malfunctioned. Shockingly.

‘Ow! Ma tête!’ Maurice landed in a heap, with an aching head. He stifled a gasp. To his left, a huge mansion faced him. Ancient doors were lit by torches. It reached seven stories, a glimmering light showed a vast reading room, he saw thick shelves lined with paper books. He wildly thought of Bell teaching languages in the pièce de devant. The car was still blinking manically. ‘Oh, Bellinda. Is this our answer? Imagine whom I could find inside? Oh, Bellinda how I wish you were here!’ Maurice cried, then spun round as the car bleeped. It was registering a new location, its human-throwing seats whirred back in place. The engine began humming loudly. ‘Wait, wait! No, car! Wait!’ His shouts were to no avail. It had generated Bellinda’s name and face and was unhelpfully backing down the drive without its rider. ‘Attendez-moi! Attendez-moiiii!’ Maurice chased the yellow hunk of metal, but it zoomed away. He was alone, with no means of transport, and did not know his way home. He could not reach Bell either, his mobile phone was left in the car. The mansion loomed ahead, and he sighed. What other option did he have? He began the walk up the gravel driveway, murmuring words like ‘foolish,’ and ‘mustard.’

Back in Abeille Cottage, Bellinda was nose-deep in Jane Eyre, when she heard a strange noise warbling from outside. Her heart stammered at the sight of the car. Back already? Bellinda reached the gates when she realised her Papa was not in the car. It blinked wildly, and she saw her name on the screen. Without a second thought, she leaped in. ‘Take me to him! Smart car! Take me to your last location!’ The mustard tin can must have understood, as it whistled and spun the wheel, heading out of Conques once more. When they reached the mansion, it was nightfall. Bellinda was terrified. Where was he? She left the car, and gasped. She knew this mansion, did she not? Something grappled in her mind. It was familiar, with its seven stories, and twisting chimneys. Racing to the main doors, she prayed her Papa was safe. Perhaps his correspondences lived here. But fear trickled through her: they had not reached the city. They were in unmarked territory. Swallowing, she rapped the doors. They opened. Nobody was there. She came into a beautiful, old hall. Sculptures stood guard along the walls, limbless and gleaming. Bellinda gathered her nerve and crept through. She found a corridor with many doors. A light glowed underneath the last one. Bellinda’s heart jumped. She could hear her father. And another voice. Harsh and rasping.

‘-think you can change them? Have you looked at me, Professor? Change? A fool’s word. We stay the same.’

‘But you cannot give in! Have you seen the world these days, Beast? The news? Weather? Hottest year on record…’ Maurice sounded exasperated. ‘Un-thinkers. Rising. It’s a curse.’

‘Do not speak to me of curses!’

Bellinda reached the door, and her eyes found the Beast. He was hulking. His long, thick hair matched his furry face. Large, pointy ears sat atop his head. His eyes shone yellow, and his leather coat stretched on his large form. She edged into the light, craning her neck at the stranger. Her father’s words brought her attention back.

‘I know your story, Baron. Do you know they tried wiping it away? Forgotten by the people of Averyon. For thinking differently. We need more people like you. Your collection—’

‘Who? You and the girl? Is this your legendary revolution? Not just a loony family breaking and entering!?

The Baron’s bright eyes met Bellinda’s. She bristled at his words, pushing the door open fully.

‘Girl?’ Maurice whirled and saw Bellinda. ‘Oh, what are you doing here, Bellinda?’

‘That stupid—’

‘Mustard—’

‘Tin can of a car, yes—’

‘But, in the Baron’s mansion…I…Bell…’

‘Who?’

‘I am Florent.’ The large man rasped. ‘Baron of Averyon. Family name.’ He paused, his lips twitching. ‘Everyone here calls me Beast.’

‘Beast.’ They watched each other for a moment.

‘Baron. I implore you…My daughter here. She needs those…Your collection. Why do you keep them locked away?’ He cried. ‘Forgotten by all!’

‘Forgotten. They forgot the smell of paper long ago. Abandon it. And leave this place.’

Beast sounded so furious that Papa seized Bellinda’s arm and lead her towards the entrance hall. ‘Oh, Bell. What a disaster. The cursed Baron…’

‘How do you know him, Papa?’

Maurice did not reply, fumbling in his coat. ‘Ah, but look. A journal. For your thoughts!’ He produced a rosy, red book, and Bellinda’s chest fluttered. ‘Papa, you didn’t…’

‘He did…didn’t he?’ The Beast’s voice shocked them. He faced them from the end of the entrance hall. ‘You would break into my home. Then you would steal from me. A journal at that!’

Maurice looked grave. ‘Now Beast…’

‘You will never leave here. Say goodbye to your daughter.’

‘No!’ Bellinda roared, casting herself in between the two. Beast snarled. ‘You wish to take his place? You would be my prisoner, girl.’

‘Don’t call me girl, like that Beast. Let my Papa go. He only wanted to find a cure,’ Bellinda cried. Beast cocked his head. Bellinda thought of his collection. What did he own? Maurice gripped Bellinda’s shoulders. ‘No, Bell. Go. Forget your old man. Find my correspondences, honeybee.’

‘Papa! I’m not—’

‘Yes, you are. Get the car.’

Bellinda pulled her phone out, typed the directions, and the whistling car had arrived. The doors swung open. Bellinda was led outside. The driver’s door was already open. She hugged Maurice and with a thundering heart, she pushed him onto the front seat and the doors locked instantly. The yellow car moved off, and Bellinda couldn’t hear her Papa’s shouts of protest. He was out of sight in moments. The Beast swooped down on her. ‘Strange girl.’

‘He’s my father.’

Beast just stared at her. She swallowed. ‘What is in your collection?’

Beast glared. ‘All are forbidden from it.’

‘Listen—’ Bellinda started, but Beast would not listen.

‘Go! Take her to her room!’ He cried the request and stormed away. Bellinda was starting to question his sanity, when something hopped along that made her jaw drop. ‘Hello,’ said the talking and walking LED, which landed next to her. It was violet and had eyes. ‘I am Diode. Je brille, mademoiselle.’

‘Mon Dieu…’

Then, a large watch with legs scuttled behind the talking Diode. ‘Sacrebleu, slow down. She’s never seen a talking—’

‘INCREDIBLE!’ Bellinda cried.

Diode grinned (a strange grin). ‘Oh, merci beaucoup, Madam—’

‘She was talking about me, lightbulb!’ The watch declared.

‘You are cuckoo, Montre…’

Montre and Diode led Bellinda to a flamboyant bedroom. The floors were marble, the chandeliers were dazzling, and Bellinda’s head was reeling. ‘Stay here? The…the Baron said I was prisoner…’

A golden hairbrush leaped off the bed. Bellinda suppressed the scream. ‘You know eez name iz Baron?’

‘My Papa said he was cursed,’ Bellinda said to the household items who could talk.

‘Oui, the Master is cursed,’ Montre explained. ‘As are we.’

‘There is a curse in Conques! Artificial intelligence… are they connected? I need to know what’s in his collection!’

‘Ah… the Misinformation Age. Objects gained brains…humans…’ Montre trailed off, frowning.

‘Stopped reading, thinking!’

‘My, but we ‘ave zee answer,’ the hairbrush observed. Her eyes were on Bellinda.

‘The girl? Balayette…do you truly believe?’

‘Are my bristles golden, Diode? Look at ‘er. Ingénieux, belle…’

Bellinda blanched. ‘Sorry, the answer? What is it?’

The doors burst open, and a kettle skidded across the room. ‘A girl in the mansion!’ Bellinda couldn’t help but smile at the smell of chamomile.

‘Mrs Hobbs, my dear. Top of the range. Boil water quicker than la Chaudière.’

‘I’m Bellinda. Enchantée.’

‘A girl? A real girl, Mama!?’ A chipped mug popped out from behind Mrs Hobbs, eyes alight. It was tiny, and Bellinda knelt, allowing him to jump into her palm. ‘I’m Mick.’ Bellinda laughed; the whole ordeal was incredible. She wanted to know why the Baron was a beast and not a grumpy grand pianoforte. She had to see the collection.

‘Am I allowed to see the mansion? You must have an excellent…um… kitchenette.’

‘Of course, Miss Bell! You’re our guest now,’ Diode said happily. Bellinda followed him accompanied by Montre. They were in a maroon-coloured hallway, when Bellinda caught sight of a bookshelf through a murky doorway. The collection. She stopped walking.

‘Monsieur…um Diode? Do you have a greenhouse here? Only, I love the smell of roses.’

‘A greenhouse!’ Diode exclaimed, shaking Montre vigorously. ‘Of course, Mademoiselle! The very best!’ He turned blue as he spoke, setting off arm in arm (more like wire and strap) with Montre as they sang to the empty corridor, unaware of Bellinda’s absence.

‘White roses, red, we’ll give you a tour!’

‘Tulips, buttercups, bluebells, and…what are they called again?’

‘Forget-me-nots galore!’

Bellinda took her chance. With a stroke of luck, the door was unlocked. The bookshelves reached the ceiling. A humming sound found Bellinda’s ears. She followed and discovered a thick tome at the end of the library. Hand outstretched, she longed to know what was inside. But a voice came from behind her. Raspy.

‘Don’t touch it.’ Beast was at her side, scanning the book. Bellinda jumped back, staring at him. He looked terrified. And angry. He faced her, eyes bright, ears twitching. ‘I told you this place—’

‘Was forbidden, yes. Same way Gaston told children the bookshop was forbidden by feeding them ignorance in digital spoonfuls. They also didn’t care.’

Beast’s eyebrows quivered. ‘Forbidden bookshop?’

‘Did you think Papa a liar?’

Beast sighed, sliding his hand across the humming tome. Bellinda noticed swirling roses etched onto his arm. There were written words too. Red.

THOUGHTS STING THE READER’S PAPER.

‘Sting?’ Bellinda wondered out loud. Beast reacted as though she’d hit him. His face glowed pink, and he held out his arm timidly. ‘You can read these words?’

Bellinda met his golden eyes and found a softness there. ‘Of course I can.’

‘You are a Reader…’ He thrust the tome into her arms, his fingers grazing hers. He became shy. ‘Perhaps…uh…might you read this? S’il-vous-plaît…Madame…’

‘Abeille. Bellinda Abeille is my name,’ she said quietly. Their eyes never left one another’s.

‘Abeille…’ he spoke softly. ‘Abeille means bee.’

‘Yes.’

He chuckled, and the action surprised Bellinda so, that she chuckled too. ‘Bee sting.’

Bellinda read the tome aloud. As she did the strangest thing happened. The mansion’s power cut off. It reached Conques too. All electronics ceased in power. Nothing fixed it. But the water started flowing healthier. The children noticed. The hoses splashed in their gardens. Parents picked up storybooks, Petit Poulet seemed silly for believing the fox. Wasn’t it obvious le Loup was going to eat Little Red? Something strange was happening. People were thinking again. Gaston did not like this. His boss counted on thoughtless robots. The curse had been working so well. There were no Readers left, he’d made sure.

In the Baron’s mansion, the girl who had been delivered in the passenger seat of a car which terribly resembled a mustard tin can, had just broken the curse. Bellinda Abeille wouldn’t call herself a curse-breaker, but she would call herself a Reader. And Beast, or Baron Florent, found himself calling her the love of his life. All he needed to do was open his library doors, to find the town of Conques living happily ever after. So don’t close your minds, or your hearts, kids!