I understand the basic concept of a lending library, having haunted them all my life. When one does not grow up with the funds to purchase sufficient reading material, one comes to know libraries intimately. In my case, I’d have driven even an earl to pauperhood with my reading needs.
As I walk in, my heart trips with excitement. This is a twenty-first-century library. How many more books it will hold. Books from my future, yes, but also books from other countries, in a world where such things are much easier to obtain. A world of books—
“Wherearethe books?” I ask, earning an amused look from an elderly woman leaving the building.
We came in through a hall with a ceiling that gradually sloped up until we found ourselves in a massive room filled with tables and chairs and people.
“There are books in the twenty-first century,” I whisper. “I know there are.”
“There are indeed, and in a building this size, there are plenty of places to store them. I fear that the problem will not be finding the books but finding thecorrectbooks.”
We climb a staircase and then head down a hall to find a room full of people reading.
“I see books,” Nicolas mock-whispers at my ear. “Now, we must trace them to their source.”
We continue through the room and wander until we find another like it, with more people reading.
“This is indeed a mystery,” Nicolas says.
“Y’all need some help?”
The accent is American, and we turn to see a young man. He doesn’t seem to be a member of the staff. Just a patron, with a satchel over his shoulder. A student, if I were to guess.
“We are looking for books,” I say.
His cheek twitches. “You’ve come to the right place.”
I glance around.
“Ah, first time here?” he says.
I nod.
“Do you have a pass?” he asks.
“We require a pass to enter the library?”
“No, to request books.”
Nicolas and I look at each other.
“We are visitors,” Nicolas says, “newly arrived in the city on holiday.”
The young man looks about, as if realizing this interaction might require more than a few moments of his time.
“We will find a librarian,” I say.
“Nah, I can walk you through it.” He leans a hip against a table. “Are you looking for something specific?”
“Information on a historical figure.”
“Rare documents?”
I shake my head. “An ordinary book will do. We wish to separate fact from fiction.”
He frowns. “You can’t find anything online?”
“Online...” Nicolas says, exaggerating his accent, as if he simply doesn’t recognize the word in English.