“You wanted to see me?” The editor asked.
The aged author was sitting in a lush red armchair, lazily spinning a large free-standing globe in front of him. The room was filled floor-to-ceiling with countless books, and though the editor thought it odd they were locked behind glass panels, he never thought to bring up his employer’s eccentricities.
“Kris, how long have you worked for me?”
“Fifteen years, sir.”
The author nodded. “And it’s been a rather easy job, has it not?”
The editor squirmed. In truth the job had been one of the easiest imaginable. With few exceptions, every manuscript presented to him for editing was borderline perfect, but it was never a good idea to tell your boss that your position is unnecessary.
The author seemed to read Kris’s mind. “It’s alright, I’m not firing you. In truth, I know I never needed your services in the first place… Well, your professional services, at any rate.” The author shook his head. “No, I hired you because you were kind and charismatic, and I needed someone like you to inherit the empire I’ve built. I’m getting on in years, and I’d like you to take over for me.”
Kris blinked. “But sir, I can’t…”
“Why not?” The author asked with a mysterious grin.
“Because… I mean, you’re famous! You can’t be replaced.”
“And you’ll become famous too.” The author said, his grin unwavering. “All you need to do is publish a few books.”
“But I can’t write! Not like you! Your works… Christ, there’s never been a more prolific author with such an incredible range! In a hundred years you’ll be regarded as the next Shakespeare, and I…” He trailed off. “I can’t write.”
“Neither can I.” The author said in a small voice. He lightly rotated the globe back and forth.
Kris was taken aback. “I think anyone who reads your works will know that you’re a fantastic writer.”
“Those aren’t my works.” The author said. “I never wrote a thing. I stole them.”
The editor looked confused. “Stole… From who?”
The author stood, then spun his globe and removed a small section of it. Inside was a small terminal with blinking lights.
“Everything I’ve ever written, everything I am, was stolen from best-selling authors in alternate universes.”
“What?” Kris asked in a disbelieving voice.
“I’ll show you.” The author said. He pressed a button on the globe’s terminal, and instantly he and the globe disappeared.
The editor blinked. Kris looked around the room, expecting to see a sign of the trickery. Mirrors? A trap door? Wires?
But before he could contemplate things further, the author reappeared with the globe and gently tossed a small book toward Kris, who frantically caught it and automatically read the title.
“Shy Thyngs?” The editor asked.
The author shrugged. “In another universe, that book is selling like hot cakes. From what I could read it’s pretty good, though obviously it was written in a reality where the spelling is different, and it makes references to events that never happened here. I usually tried to give you books from worlds that had nearly identical spelling conventions to ours, but there were a few exceptions. Remember how my first draft for ‘The Gaul House’ lacked any ‘u’s? How it was spelled ‘The Gawl Howse’?”
“Yeahhhh.” The editor said, still shocked at what he was learning.
The author shrugged again. “Call me sentimental, but that one resonated with me on a pretty deep level, so I had you edit it. You’re free to go to any reality you want, and choose to bring back any novels you want, but there are a few rules.” He held up a finger. “First, and most important, is you are NOT to bring back any technology. In my early years I tried to do that, and, well… Let’s just say that there are a few clandestine government agencies that had a thing or two to say about that, so it’s best you just stick with literature. Two-“ He held up a second finger, “-Don’t visit Red-coded worlds.” He pointed at a small green light on the globe. “The Globoscope here should keep you out of those realities by default, though it is possible to override its commands. Don’t. Those realities are too divergent from ours, and it would be exceedingly difficult for you to interact with people there… Assuming they’re even people. You may feel tempted to visit, but trust me, their worlds are so strange, and potentially dangerous, that nothing they write would really jive with people here, you know? Just stick to green-coded worlds, or at worst, yellow-coded. Three-“ He held up a third finger, “Avoid Blinking Worlds. If the light starts blinking, immediately return home. Any world with a blinking light signifies an extreme danger and is usually experiencing, or has experienced, an apocalyptic, human-ending event. Most of those worlds have been tracked and blocked by the Glogoscope, but every once in a while you might find yourself in one. Just come back immediately.”
“So wait… You’re telling me that everything you’ve ever written is… It’s from…Another universe?”
The author gestured to the rest of his library. “All of these books come from worlds outside our own reality. For various reasons I decided not to publish them to a wider audience. Some of them describe events that are meant to remain secret for us, or they answer dangerous existential questions, or are just boring. It’ll be up to you to decide which books deserve to be read by others, and which don’t.”
Kris looked around. “Wow.” He gasped.
The author spun the globe once more. “So what do you say? Wanna take it for a spin?”