Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore (Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore, #1)

by Robin Sloan

Kat’s eyes light up: “A natural language corpus! I’ve been looking for an excuse to use the book scanner.” She grins and slaps the table. “Bring it to Google. We have a machine for this. You have to bring it to Google.” She’s bouncing in her seat a little, and her lips make a pretty shape when she says the word corpus

I sense an incompatibility between Kat’s belief in a disembodied human future and her insistence on alcohol consumption, but I let it slide, because I’m going to a party.

“You have Gerritszoon,” I cluck, “suitable for emails, book reports, and résumés. This”—I point to the blown-up NARRATIO on my laptop screen—“is Gerritszoon Display, suitable for billboards, magazine spreads, and, apparently, occult book covers. See, it has pointier serifs.” Mat nods gravely. “The serifs are pointy indeed.”

“Besides,” I say, “I’m the rogue in this scenario.” Kat raises an eyebrow and I explain quietly, “He’s the warrior, you’re the wizard, I’m the rogue. This conversation never happened.”

I lean down, kiss her above the ear, and whisper: “Would you really freeze your head?” “I would absolutely, positively freeze my head.” She looks up at me and her face is serious. “I’d freeze yours, too. And in a thousand years, you’d thank me.”

We’re going to take a picture of every surface, from every angle, under bright, even light.” He pauses. “So we can re-create it.” My mouth hangs open. He continues, “I’ve done photo recon on castles and mansions. This store is tiny. It’ll only take three or four thousand shots.” Mat’s intention is completely over-the-top, obsessive, and maybe impossible. In other words: it’s perfect for this place. “So, where’s the camera?” I ask.