I am a librarian, sir. That is my occupation, and my profession. If you people choose to call that obsolete.....
Request clarification of the term.
Yes, Mister Wordsworth, the term "You People," do you make reference to The State?
I make reference to The State.
And you persist in declaring your occupation as that of a librarian. Is that correct?
Yes, sir, that is correct.
(his voice sneering) A librarian! Having to do with books!
Yes sir, books.
And since there are no more books, there are no more libraries. Therefore, it follows there would be little use for the services of a librarian. Case in point: a minister would say his profession is preaching the word of God. And, since the State has proven that there is no God, that would make the function of a minister somewhat academic as well.
There is a God!
(The Chancellor is starting to show annoyance at Wordsworth)
You are in error, Mr. Wordsworth. There is no God. [grabbing loudspeaker] The State has proven that there is no God!
You cannot erase God with an edict!
You are Obsolete, Mr. Wordsworth.
A lie. No man is Obsolete.
You have no function, Mr. Wordsworth. You're an anachronism, like a ghost from another time.
I am nothing more than a reminder to you that you cannot destroy truth by burning pages.
You're a bug, Mr. Wordsworth. A crawling insect. An ugly misformed little creature who has no purpose here, no meaning.
I am a human being!
You're a Librarian, Mr. Wordsworth. A dealer in books and two-cent fines and pamphlets and closed stacks and the musty insides of a language factory that spews out meaningless words on an assembly line. Words, Mr. Wordsworth, that have no substance and no dimension. Like air, like the wind, like a vacuum that you make believe has an existence by scribbling index numbers on little cards!
I don't care! I am a human being! And if I speak one thought aloud, that thought lives, even after I've been shoveled into my grave!
Delusions, Mr. Wordsworth. Delusions that you inject into your veins with printer's ink. The narcotics that you call literature. The Bible, poetry, essays of all kind an opiate to make you think you have strength when you have no strength at all! You have nothing but spindly limbs and a spindly dream. The State has no use for your kind!
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