The Library
I didn’t know her very well. We spent together only a few millennia, give or take, perhaps more, perhaps a lot less. That may sound like a lot of time; in fact, I’m counting on it sounding impressive. But I’ve spent here a much longer amount of time, much more than eons, than entire ages of man and the universe. Millennia whiz by with barely a thought. And even though we spent time together and could’ve gotten to know each other, there is always a lot of work to be done, and precious few hours dedicated to downtime and relaxation; I tend to spend those sleeping.
I do however remember when she arrived here. That I can tell for sure: it was by the shelves #4156 and #4157. I was holding an empty volume, a few tomes that I had already filled that day and a bag of empty scrolls. I guess she seemed a bit surprised and confused, but no more than usual; I only felt annoyance. I’d have to spend half a day explaining what was going on, and work ends up piling endlessly here given a minute of unscheduled pause. But it’s my job, so I helped her up and showed her around.
There were the shelves, the books, the tomes, the writing desks, the quills and the other paraphernalia, and then that singular command: transcribe everything.
Everything that will ever be has already been conceived and ordained, but in order to happen it needs to be written down, and that is our job. That’s it. Write down from one book to the next, ceaselessly, every life and event, every motion in the universe, every word and thought. It’s dull, it’s tedious, it’s boring, but it’s of paramount importance.
To her credit, she picked it up quite quickly, with very little protestation or fuss. Not everyone does; some are alarmed, angry or outright despairing at the prospect of having to do this job. Not her; she went to work right away. Some refuse to do it for long times, trying to find a way out or something else to do, but eventually it’s the boredom that gets to all of them. I guess that whoever is picking or choosing those that arrive in this place is getting better at it, because lately those scenes are becoming rarer and rarer. She, for example, just started working after a bare minimum of questions.
That’s not to say that that she remained content and without curiosity forever; eventually she started to question the state of affairs, and whether this endless copying really was everything that was going on. But as far as I can tell, it is. I’ve been here a long time, a very long time, and it is all I can remember. I don’t recall how I got here or how I know what I’m supposed to do, so I can’t answer those questions, even if I wanted to. She wanted to know why we don’t need to eat, where she came from, why I look like this, who wrote all the tomes, who set this library up, who decided this job would exist, but I couldn’t answer any of those either. She was unsatisfied, but what else could she do? We were the only two living beings in here, with a very clear command and a never-ending supply of books to transcribe. She huffed in frustration, but she kept on going.
I would say that questions are futile, but in truth I never seriously thought of asking them. I just do my job, dutifully and without complaining. I write in this book what is in that book, and that’s all there is to do. I don’t care about the words that I write, or the lives that they tell. I make no mistake, I do not change a single letter. I just write, without asking. She grumbled from time to time, but mostly kept to herself and performed her tasks correctly.
So the years went by, then the centuries, the millennia. I think so, at least; time is fickle over here. I knew she was looking for a way out, but I didn’t pay attention to her at all. And then, one day, she disappeared. Gone. I don’t know if she went away or her own volition or if she managed to escape or something. Frankly, I don’t care.
I was left on my own. I kept on writing, ages after she was gone like in the ages before she arrived. Maybe one day they will send another scribe. Maybe they won’t. Maybe there is no they.
All I know, is that there is work to be done, and that I must be the one to do it. So I do it.
Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story, you can subscribe for free here to receive new ones when they are published. You may find the full archive of Storie Brevi here.