There were murmurs of agreement from the assembled agents; it was clear that no one much liked it down there.

'But,' went on Libris, 'endlessly recycling old ideas might not hold the reader's attention for that much longer – the Council of Genres' own market research seems to indicate that readers are becoming bored with the sameness of plot lines.'

'I think it's already happened,' said the Bellman, then checked himself quickly, apologised for the interruption and let Libris carry on.

'But,' continued Libris, 'to understand the problem we need a bit of history. When we first devised the BOOK system eighteen hundred years ago, we designed it mainly to record events – we never thought there would be such a demand for story. By the tenth century story usage was so low that we still had enough new plots to last over a thousand years. By the time the seventeenth century arrived this had lowered to six hundred – but there was still no real cause for worry. Then, something happened that stretched the operating system to the limit.'

'Mass literacy,' put in Miss Havisham.

'Exactly,' replied Libris. 'Demand for written stories increased exponentially during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Ten years before Pamela was published in 1740 we had enough new ideas to last another four hundred years; by Dickens' time ideas were almost wholly recycled, something we have been doing on and off since the thirteenth century to stave off the inevitable. But by 1884, to all intents and purposes, we had depleted our stock of original ideas.'

There was muttering among the collected Jurisfiction agents.

'Flatland,' said Bradshaw after pausing for a moment's reflection. 'It was the last original idea, wasn't it?'

'Pretty much. The few leftover pieces were mopped up by the SF movement until the 1950s, but as far as pure ideas are concerned, 1884 was the end. We were expecting the worst – a meltdown of the whole BookWorld and a wholesale departure of readers. But that didn't happen. Against all expectations, recycled ideas were working.'

'But isn't it the way they are told?' asked Havisham in her not-to-be-argued-with voice. 'Surely the permutations of storytelling are endless!'

'Large perhaps, but not infinite, Miss Havisham. What I'm trying to say is that once all the permutations are used up there will be nowhere for us to go. The twentieth century has seen books being written and published at an unprecedented rate – even the introduction of the Procrastination1.3 and Writer'sBlock2.4 Outlander viruses couldn't slow the authors down. Plagiarism lawsuits are rising in the Outland; authors are beginning to write the same books. The way I see it we've got a year – possibly eighteen months – before the well of fiction runs dry.'

He paused to let this sink in.

'That's why we had to go back to the drawing board and rethink the whole situation.'

He flipped the chart again and there were audible gasps. On the chart was written '32-plot story systems'.