I slam the book shut. This is not the first time I've seen this game.
"Where did you find this book, friend?"
The little girl looks like she's never set foot in a library before. There are headphones in her ears, and glasses with screens over her eyes. She's eating Pocky in my library and leaving crumbs all over the floor. She smiles mischievously and said "I wrote it."
I take the bait. I drop the book on the ground and cross my arms. "What's your favorite book?"
"I don't read books," she says. "No one does. That's why we're getting rid of them."
That just makes me smirk harder. "So why is your book worth reading?"
She blinks hard and says, without a hint of irony, "Because it's the truth."
"You think no one has written the truth before?" I gesture to the other visitors, who are busy perusing our stacks. One catches my eye—the young man is reading The Left Hand of Darkness. "It looks like someone still reads, so I'm a little skeptical of your 'truth.' ."
The little girl scoffs. "That's a geezer. When they die out, there won't be any readers left."
I smile back at her. "So what should we do with all the books?"
She just shrugs. "Burn them?"
I pluck her book up off the ground. "Great idea." I throw it in the fireplace. She looks horrified. The look on her face will keep me warm long after the fuel burns out.
As master librarian, it is not often I come across a book that I have not read. This is one of them. The book feels ancient. The cover - which does not hold a title - worn out from being palmed once too many times, the pages in a soft yellow hue from a time which it was not handled carefully enough. I look up from the book that I just got handed over, and see that the child vanished. No matter, in thought I walk over to one of our many reading nooks, reverently laying down the book on a lectern. I read the first sentence again, and again. How can a book not contain a story? Books were invented to carry stories, to pass them on from person to person, to share knowledge. Which is exactly why books should be sacred, and should be handled with the utmost care. Intrigued by the clearly wrong statement of the book, i read on.
“Know that when you fully understand the essence of my writings, your very future will change. If you can acknowledge this, please proceed.” The page ends there. I scoff and turn the page. The next page is blank. I squint at the page in confusion, I turn another page. Once again blank. This goes on until I reach the back of the book. The last page has one short paragraph: “I would like to thank the reader for taking the time to ruminate, question and finally grasp the contents of this book. Please pass this book to one you think might be in dire need of a change of view.” I am astonished, it is an empty book! That damned child must have been pulling a prank on me. The dents and nooks on the book suddenly make sense, people must have thrown this thing around after they realized. I suddenly have the urge to do the same, but I withhold myself as I look at the book.
The pages started glowing. What in the…? I rush to open the book. The once empty pages now glow. I start reading the page: “By now you will have realized that this book is not just any book. It is an extension of your mind and soul. Each time you feel injustice, joy, anger or any emotion, a page will reveal itself. The stronger the emotion, the more it will reveal about the machinations of this world and your future in it.” I turn the page and read, “As the clocks rings 4 times, you must walk two paces backwards, less you get hurt”. What. Is. This. Nonsense, I think to myself. I lay the book down and walk over to my desk. Still wondering about the strange light emitting from the book, I continue with my tasks of the day.
Deep in thought, I fail to notice the clock sounding 4 times. I hear a loud creaking sound above my head. Before i know it an old shoddy chandelier lays on top of me. I scream out for help, the light from the book seem to emit even brighter. Hearing my shouts for help, one of the clerks comes over. “Are you alright?” He says. “Do I look alright, Daniel?” I say sarcastically, “Help me with this thing.” As i stand up and pat myself down, I find that I have not broken anything, and all I will get is some bruises. “You’re quite lucky master! One inch to the right, and it would have landed on your head.” Annoyed I shoo him away. “Yes, how fortunate…” I say, thinking of the prophecy of the book.
I walk over to the book still laying on the lectern, seeing that the light has not dimmed yet, and seems even brighter than before. I quickly sit down, and open the book. Page 3 is now illuminated. On the top of the page it says: “Everyone makes the same mistake at first. You will learn quickly.” I shake my head in deference “That I will do… That i will do."
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I slam the book shut. This is not the first time I've seen this game.
"Where did you find this book, friend?"
The little girl looks like she's never set foot in a library before. There are headphones in her ears, and glasses with screens over her eyes. She's eating Pocky in my library and leaving crumbs all over the floor. She smiles mischievously and said "I wrote it."
I take the bait. I drop the book on the ground and cross my arms. "What's your favorite book?"
"I don't read books," she says. "No one does. That's why we're getting rid of them."
That just makes me smirk harder. "So why is your book worth reading?"
She blinks hard and says, without a hint of irony, "Because it's the truth."
"You think no one has written the truth before?" I gesture to the other visitors, who are busy perusing our stacks. One catches my eye—the young man is reading The Left Hand of Darkness. "It looks like someone still reads, so I'm a little skeptical of your 'truth.' ."
The little girl scoffs. "That's a geezer. When they die out, there won't be any readers left."
I smile back at her. "So what should we do with all the books?"
She just shrugs. "Burn them?"
I pluck her book up off the ground. "Great idea." I throw it in the fireplace. She looks horrified. The look on her face will keep me warm long after the fuel burns out.
As master librarian, it is not often I come across a book that I have not read. This is one of them. The book feels ancient. The cover - which does not hold a title - worn out from being palmed once too many times, the pages in a soft yellow hue from a time which it was not handled carefully enough. I look up from the book that I just got handed over, and see that the child vanished. No matter, in thought I walk over to one of our many reading nooks, reverently laying down the book on a lectern. I read the first sentence again, and again. How can a book not contain a story? Books were invented to carry stories, to pass them on from person to person, to share knowledge. Which is exactly why books should be sacred, and should be handled with the utmost care. Intrigued by the clearly wrong statement of the book, i read on.
“Know that when you fully understand the essence of my writings, your very future will change. If you can acknowledge this, please proceed.” The page ends there. I scoff and turn the page. The next page is blank. I squint at the page in confusion, I turn another page. Once again blank. This goes on until I reach the back of the book. The last page has one short paragraph: “I would like to thank the reader for taking the time to ruminate, question and finally grasp the contents of this book. Please pass this book to one you think might be in dire need of a change of view.” I am astonished, it is an empty book! That damned child must have been pulling a prank on me. The dents and nooks on the book suddenly make sense, people must have thrown this thing around after they realized. I suddenly have the urge to do the same, but I withhold myself as I look at the book.
The pages started glowing. What in the…? I rush to open the book. The once empty pages now glow. I start reading the page: “By now you will have realized that this book is not just any book. It is an extension of your mind and soul. Each time you feel injustice, joy, anger or any emotion, a page will reveal itself. The stronger the emotion, the more it will reveal about the machinations of this world and your future in it.” I turn the page and read, “As the clocks rings 4 times, you must walk two paces backwards, less you get hurt”. What. Is. This. Nonsense, I think to myself. I lay the book down and walk over to my desk. Still wondering about the strange light emitting from the book, I continue with my tasks of the day.
Deep in thought, I fail to notice the clock sounding 4 times. I hear a loud creaking sound above my head. Before i know it an old shoddy chandelier lays on top of me. I scream out for help, the light from the book seem to emit even brighter. Hearing my shouts for help, one of the clerks comes over. “Are you alright?” He says. “Do I look alright, Daniel?” I say sarcastically, “Help me with this thing.” As i stand up and pat myself down, I find that I have not broken anything, and all I will get is some bruises. “You’re quite lucky master! One inch to the right, and it would have landed on your head.” Annoyed I shoo him away. “Yes, how fortunate…” I say, thinking of the prophecy of the book.
I walk over to the book still laying on the lectern, seeing that the light has not dimmed yet, and seems even brighter than before. I quickly sit down, and open the book. Page 3 is now illuminated. On the top of the page it says: “Everyone makes the same mistake at first. You will learn quickly.” I shake my head in deference “That I will do… That i will do."