The Librarian
What if there exists a library that housed all books – books that have been written, books that are being written, and books that will be written. In its tomes lies the most esoteric of information, from the formula to turn lead into gold to the spell that would grant one immortality. Historians would be confounded as they cipher through endless accounts of the same event, prophets perplexed as all the possible futures are documented. But the library is not just for the bibliophile. It also contains books that are still being widely read, from the New International Version of the Bible to William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.
The library though is not one easily accessed by many. It lies outside space and time for only in such a condition could the endless corridors of shelves and books fit. One does not feel hunger or pain in the library, nor does one eat or sleep. All one can do is stare at the stacks of books behind you, beside you, and in front of you.
Like most treasures, the library has a guardian. It takes the form of the librarian, without whom one can never find the book one is looking for. The librarian neither has a gender nor a name. He/she belongs to the eternal and simply is.
One might spend eternity looking for a particular book and still not find even the subject pertaining to it. For the librarian, it is as easy as pulling out a book from the shelf beside him/her. The librarian knows where all the books are, what categories the unnamed shelves belong to, and who has written what. He/she is a database with an infinite memory for the records of the library. The librarian knows by smell and by touch the exact location of each book. The shelves are as familiar to him/her as his/her hands, the corridors merely roadmaps to them.
One does not notice at first but the librarian is blind. This makes him/her the perfect caretaker for the library for while he/she knows where each and every book is and the subject matter they contain, he/she never knows its contents. Thus the librarian is never tempted to read the books that are constantly his/hers to access.
The librarian neither has a need for rest nor for food, and he/she does not waste his/her time on leisure. Instead, the librarian constantly roams the library, ready to welcome the visitor that drops by. And when questioned whether he/she would ever want to leave the library, the librarian would merely reply:
"I cannot leave the library nor can the library leave me. The library and I are one, neither able to function without the other. Visitors are as blind to the library as I am to the world."
What if there exists a library that housed all books – books that have been written, books that are being written, and books that will be written. In its tomes lies the most esoteric of information, from the formula to turn lead into gold to the spell that would grant one immortality. Historians would be confounded as they cipher through endless accounts of the same event, prophets perplexed as all the possible futures are documented. But the library is not just for the bibliophile. It also contains books that are still being widely read, from the New International Version of the Bible to William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.
The library though is not one easily accessed by many. It lies outside space and time for only in such a condition could the endless corridors of shelves and books fit. One does not feel hunger or pain in the library, nor does one eat or sleep. All one can do is stare at the stacks of books behind you, beside you, and in front of you.
Like most treasures, the library has a guardian. It takes the form of the librarian, without whom one can never find the book one is looking for. The librarian neither has a gender nor a name. He/she belongs to the eternal and simply is.
One might spend eternity looking for a particular book and still not find even the subject pertaining to it. For the librarian, it is as easy as pulling out a book from the shelf beside him/her. The librarian knows where all the books are, what categories the unnamed shelves belong to, and who has written what. He/she is a database with an infinite memory for the records of the library. The librarian knows by smell and by touch the exact location of each book. The shelves are as familiar to him/her as his/her hands, the corridors merely roadmaps to them.
One does not notice at first but the librarian is blind. This makes him/her the perfect caretaker for the library for while he/she knows where each and every book is and the subject matter they contain, he/she never knows its contents. Thus the librarian is never tempted to read the books that are constantly his/hers to access.
The librarian neither has a need for rest nor for food, and he/she does not waste his/her time on leisure. Instead, the librarian constantly roams the library, ready to welcome the visitor that drops by. And when questioned whether he/she would ever want to leave the library, the librarian would merely reply:
"I cannot leave the library nor can the library leave me. The library and I are one, neither able to function without the other. Visitors are as blind to the library as I am to the world."
posted by Charles at 3:07 AM
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