A new species of insects has recently been discovered and classified. The insect is remarkable, as is the manner in which it was discovered. For Bibliophagus convictus stores acquired information, that is, it stores in its genetic material information that it has read (or gathered)1 in print. The insect was found in the brain of a writer. (Should you be unfamiliar with hymenoptera in general and with Apoidea in particular, please consult the relevant encyclopedia entries in order to facilitate your understanding of the following account.)

This species rejects manuscripts and teletexts even when hungry. Bibliophagus convictus feeds exclusively on printed alphanumeric texts. The insect prefers entire paragraphs and chews them while its salivary glands excrete an enzyme called “criticasis,” which when bonded with ink forms an acid called “informasis.” The insect then rolls that mouthful, soaked with informasis, into a ball, swallows a fraction of it and passes the rest into the mouth of a member of the same species. This fellow insect repeats the process: the ball wanders from mouth to mouth until all members of the Bibliophagus hive have had their fill. Then they send a messenger, the mediator, to hand the ball on to the next hive. This creates a chain that connects all Bibliophagus hives. In queens, the mouthful moves from the digestive system to the ovaries, forming a connection between the informasis and the genetic material. Therefore, each consumed paragraph causes a genetic mutation within the species Bibliophagus. The same text twice consumed can result in redundancies (cancerous growths) in the genetic material. The risk of degeneration becomes apparent once it is recognized that consumed texts may contain quotes from those previously consumed. Hence, for Darwinian reasons, the species must intervene in the process of generating text merely to survive.

The corpse of an unknown writer was discovered not long ago. The police determined it was suicide by an unknown poison and sought to close the case; it turned out later that it was an overdose of informasis. As we know, suicide among unknown authors is quite common. The police became suspicious, however, when they came across certain anomalies and ordered an autopsy. In the writer’s brain they found a Bibliophagus, still alive, secreting informasis. The prosecutor theorized that the insect must have penetrated the skull of its victim. He located the surgeon who had performed the trepanation. At this time, they discovered that this was far from an isolated case. Quite the contrary: an epidemic of trepanation that originated in Manhattan has advanced, via London and Paris, all the way to Frankfurt, where its current focus is at the book fair. All those performing trepanation and all those who had been trepanned refused to discuss the matter. Finally, a young theologian stepped forward. However, because he is among those who criticize ecclesiastical authority regarding questions of faith, his statement should be taken with a grain of salt.

He was reading in his bible as he does each evening. At the passage where it is written that it is not good for man to be alone [Genesis 2:18], he encountered a Bibliophagus. The insect used its antennae to make signs that the theologian, proficient in decoding difficult Aramaic texts, was able to interpret. They embarked on a dialogue apparently so stimulating that it made his theological fingertips drum and the insect’s antennae vibrate. The dialogue (according to the theologian, nothing need be said about its contents) resulted in his decision to have the insect implanted directly into his brain so that the conversation might be more intimate.

As the investigation continued, the theologian’s statements became increasingly confused. He could no longer recall who, in fact, said what, he or the Bibliophagus. For “Bibliophagus” he frequently substituted the word “devil.” The police were forced to commit him to an institution for the mentally disturbed, and to look elsewhere for clues. One of the findings indicated that the epidemic of trepanation appeared suspiciously similar to the distribution curve of printed texts. The probability that this similarity is based on coincidence is 1:15,000. This has led to the following hypothesis: Bibliophagus penetrates brains to control the production of printed texts. This hypothesis is promising because it offers an explanation for why there are so many printed texts. By now there are certainly better methods for generating information, but we continue to print and write for printing presses because Bibliophagi sit inside the brains of writers and printers, poison them with informasis, and seduce them into producing texts so that the Bibliophagus species can survive. But we must acknowledge that not only authors and printers are affected, publishers, book dealers, and literary critics have been poisoned by informasis, too. We cannot otherwise explain the ongoing text inflation in what we know is an outmoded means of communication. Moreover, we must assume that informasis has a paralyzing effect on certain functions of the brain. How else can we explain why the absurdity of printing texts is so vehemently kept secret. The distribution of Bibliophagus convictus across human brains seems to have advanced significantly.

The controlling bodies of the chemical industry will hardly be able to stop the production of informasis by Bibliophagi since these bodies are likely infected themselves. We will have to accept the fact that all humans will live under the influence of this chemical substance. In other words, that all humans become executive bodies of Bibliophagi, and that they will compose texts that are increasingly informative and free of redundancy. (However, this wording of a chemical problem is to be read with skepticism as even this text was likely composed under the influence of Bibliophagus).