Library System Reset: Damaged: A Magical Library LitRPG, page 25
The manifestation stopped staring and sighed ever so slightly before speaking. “You need to go to the kitchen. I believe Cook has something for you.”
“I know,” she said. She knew all of the responsibilities and everything she needed to do. Slowly but surely, it was starting to feel insurmountable purely because every time she went to do something, another ten things she needed to take care of were revealed. Quinn decided it was probably best if she magnified her ability to quick think. There’d be a path of books specifically for that. It should help her manage time much better. She liked solutions that were plausible . . . or at least plausible for a magical Library that could serve her abilities on a platter.
Quinn was lost in thought as she headed toward the kitchen. Lynx mustered up a dose of courage before pursuing his next line of thought. “Quinn, we need to speak about some other things too,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow. “You mean the vacation statement I made, right?”
“That, among other things,” he agreed. “Mainly that.”
“Yeah, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think that after a few weeks of working here, everybody would want to take off.” She really hadn’t given it a second thought. Frankly, she’d barely thought of her homeworld in the last few weeks herself and had simply assumed everyone else in the Library felt the same way.
After all . . . in such a short time period the Library had already come to feel like home. There was a deep-seated sensation right through to her bones that she belonged here.
“Realistically, once the new assistants are trained up, we’re going to have a lot more time on our hands because we’ll have more than enough to fill all the shifts. That way people can swap their shifts. It’ll get a lot better,” Lynx said. “However, right now, I need you to help me formulate how you would like to bring that across to everybody.”
Quinn sighed and thought about the few jobs she’d had as a student, about how things had been worded. Ambiguity was not her friend. “Sure. How about something along the lines of: Vacation can be taken at any time as long as it doesn’t leave the library short-staffed and is discussed with the supervisors and approved by the Librarian beforehand. Vacation must be requested with a week’s notice so as not to put undue stress on other Library assistants, and may be declined if too many others have already requested the same time off. All efforts will be made to accommodate vacations where at all possible.”
“That sounds reasonable and well thought out.” Lynx beamed a smile at her. “Eventually we’ll have enough assistants that it doesn’t matter. But right now we’re being very specific with the needs of the Library.”
They’d made it to the kitchen. Quinn stepped inside. It was mid-morning. A good dozen library patrons were sitting along two of the long tables, eating what smelled amazingly like apple and cinnamon something. Quinn crept up to the counter. “Hey, Cook, did you make some apple and cinnamon stuff without telling me?”
“Very similar to what you would call apple and cinnamon, Librarian. I did not conceal it deliberately. You have been late in visiting this morning.” Cook handed her a bowl of what looked suspiciously like an apple pie. She wasn’t about to turn that down.
Quinn dug in and felt the flavors explode. It was divine. She shoveled in another bite before speaking. “They said you wanted to see me?”
Cook paused as they created another delicacy to hand out to patrons. “The Library has requested that I make a few snacks for you to take with you upon your visit.”
“Okay. Is there something special about them?” Quinn asked, curious.
“You will need to eat these only when you are down there.” Cook’s focused gaze felt heavy. “Do you understand?”
Quinn gulped, the stickiness of the apple-like fruit almost making her choke. “Yeah, sure. Are these foods dangerous?”
“Not for you.” Cook finally finished the food line and turned to look directly at Quinn. “But they must be consumed while you are in the presence of the core.”
“Okay,” Quinn said. “Nothing else I should know about them?”
Cook’s expression softened slightly. “It will help your synchronization. These are specifically tailored foods to assist with such a high-level mental link.”
“Perfect,” she said, satisfied. “Take me through what they do?”
But Cook shook their head. “That is not my place to do. Your connection to the Library has grown tenuous with all the upheaval and changes. It’s not a dire set of circumstances, but this food will enable a smooth resynchronization for all of us.”
Quinn nodded, taking her bag of treats. “Consider it done.” About to leave, she was surprised when Cook called her back.
“Quinn.” There was a pause, as if Cook wasn’t sure if they should speak. “Just remember, this is your place now. You are important here, and . . . to us.”
Aradie hooted in agreement.
Quinn smiled, despite the soft hint of caution underlying Cook’s words. “I know.” She took a deep breath as she left the kitchen.
Now, at least barring all disasters, she should finally be able to get downstairs to the core. “You coming with me, girl?” Quinn asked, stroking Aradie’s neck.
“Hoot,” Aradie said indignantly.
Quinn chuckled as the translation became apparent.
Just try and stop me.
She really liked her owl.
28
WINDING DOWN
Every time Quinn ventured down the stairs and into what she now thought of as an enchanted cavern to visit the core, a strange sense of peace washed over her. Maybe peace was the wrong word. It wasn’t entirely accurate. It was more like the moment she set foot on that slightly spongy floor, she suddenly felt like she was coming home.
Like everything almost clicked into place.
The Library had echoes of the mother that Quinn was finding it more and more difficult to remember, of the family that she’d assumed she’d been loved in, that she swore she had glimpses of a happy childhood from. But the thing was, they were all fleeting images, almost like the ones Aradie gave her when trying to explain things to her.
It was hard to remember what her life had been like before she entered the foster system. She had vague recollections of a grandmother who baked and of parents who had given her the hugs and support, smiles and love. At least, she thought they had.
There were memories of the caring and comfort and safety to be who she was.
But when she was down here, they were no longer vague or just memories. That’s what the Library gave her. And she clung to it eagerly.
Aradie nestled in the crook of Quinn’s neck, somehow wrapping Quinn’s ponytail around her like a blanket, but not in such a way that she became entangled. Quinn chuckled as she walked across the vast cabin floor and scratched Aradie’s neck again.
“There, there, girl, it’s all good. This is going to be long-awaited and productive,” she said, pushing all the hope she had into her voice.
Aradie hooted like she was skeptical about Quinn’s goals.
“No, really, it’s going to be productive. Finally, the Library has some power, we’ve solved one of the worst problems, and we have a couple of leads to go off for the Serpensiril allies. I think I’ve been patient enough.”
Aradie’s next hoot sounded like the bird couldn’t help but agree with Quinn.
There you go. The Library’s voice echoed around her and in her head. Trying to turn my own night owls against me, are you? the Library asked, but it wasn’t really a question. There was a definite humorous tone to the words.
The owl hooted again, like she was telling the Library that she was her own owl and belonged to no one.
Quinn’s stress levels began to even out, despite the dangers to both herself and the Library that loomed on the horizon. Despite all of the shenanigans being orchestrated by whoever was orchestrating them. Despite whoever had been in cahoots with Kor and tried to destroy the Library in the first place, not to mention killing all the remaining potential Librarians.
Despite all that, Quinn’s stress disappeared with the surrounding atmosphere, and both the Library and Aradie played a large part in that. Down here with the Core, she felt as safe as it was possible for her to be under the circumstances. Frankly, even with the circumstances, down here just felt right.
“I wouldn’t have to steal them, or turn them against you, if you actually told me everything I need to know,” she grumbled half-heartedly at the Library.
Ah, Quinn, we have had this discussion before.
“And we will have it again,” Quinn said. “I know it, you know it, doesn’t mean I can’t be irritated by it.”
Understood, the Library said. I’m just grateful that you also realize that there are things that cannot be disclosed to you until such a time that you’ve reached certain milestones of knowledge and that the Library has reached certain levels of power. There is a lot that goes into my makeup. So much history . . .
“You don’t say,” Quinn said. If the Library had been corporeal in nature and walking next to her, she would have elbowed it in the ribs. “I do understand, even if it’s extremely frustrating to be constantly kept in the dark, even though not being in the dark could likely hinder me, or confuse me, or both. Probably both.”
Quinn chuckled as she ran the conundrum over in her mind. Even with the threat still very real . . . as long as they stayed safe, they had all the time in the universe. Finally reaching the middle of the cavern where the massive core branched out from, she sighed happily.
“Ah,” she said, “this is perfect.”
Aradie hooted once softly, tugged on one of Quinn’s hairs, and flew up to alight onto one of the branches. Quinn glanced around. “You know, it’s very odd that a tree like you, with the all-encompassing quiet, is surrounded by so much darkness. I’ve always associated trees with light and the outdoors, but here in this place . . . it still feels right.”
That’s the beauty of a tree of knowledge, the Library said.
“Keep telling yourself that.” Quinn grinned. “I’ve got a feeling there’s a lot more to you than that.”
The Library chuckled softly and then let out a contented sigh. The sensation rippled all through the room like a breath, a deep inhalation. If Quinn focused really, really hard, she was sure she could almost hear a heartbeat. Curiosity nibbled at the back of her mind. She had so many questions.
Well, Quinn, thank you for coming as I requested. I appreciate you going out of your way when it really is busy up there.
“Of course I’d make time. You asked me to come.” She jiggled the bag in her hand. “Cook sent me with supplies. I didn’t know you ate.”
The Library chuckled. I don’t precisely eat in the way you’re thinking. The food in the bag isn’t for me, it’s for you.
“Something about synchronization, right?”
Yes, the Library said and for just a moment Quinn felt like something was peering into her soul. “Something about synchronization” is accurate. But first, I think there are some things weighing on your mind. Talk to me, Quinn.
Of course, I’ve got something on my mind. I’ve had something on my mind since you guys dragged me into this dimension, is what Quinn wanted to say. However, instead, she turned and patted the trunk. “What exactly are you?”
The Library seemed to hesitate. Finding that out is part of why you need to stay for a while. There are concepts larger than you, larger than the Library, frankly bigger than all of us combined. And you need to form an intrinsic understanding of how this world was formed to fully comprehend how I came to be and what I am. Do you understand?
“Well, obviously not,” Quinn said, “because you didn’t tell me anything. You just told me that I need to know more to understand what you haven’t told me yet. Does that not seem highly convoluted and a roundabout way to say, ‘Listen, Quinn, we’re gonna tell you a story and then I’ll tell you what I am’?”
There’s a majesty to storytelling, Quinn. Let me spin my story the way I want to, please. The Library managed to sound ever so slightly offended.
This time, Quinn laughed. “It’s okay, I understand. So,” Quinn continued, putting the bag of food on her lap and fingering the fold-down section of it, she thought for a few seconds, trying to really summarize what it was she wanted to ask in the first place.
“So,” she said again, “is this like a serious magical Library birds-and-the-bees talk then?”
The Library paused for a moment. You know, Quinn, I think that’s exactly what this will to be like.
“Okay,” Quinn said, mulling it over, “what exactly do you need me to do for this to work?”
Listen to and experience what I have to say, question me some, because I doubt that you couldn’t. Then listen some more and trust that the synchronization process will work for us, will work for you and will bring some more clarity to the things that you don’t yet know and overall to your position as Librarian.
Quinn analyzed the words. She knew the Library was deliberately leaving things out and being circumspect. Not only could she hear it, but she could feel it and yet there was no malice contained within. There was no ill-conceived purpose, simply the will to do it in the correct order of things.
“Why now? What’s so different about right now?” Quinn asked. “Why couldn’t we do this weeks ago?”
Is that really a question, Quinn? the Library asked, leaving the question open.
The thing was, Quinn knew it wasn’t. They’d had so much to do, repairing the Library, getting rid of the bookworms, rediscovering some of the books, returning books, making the Library operational, gathering assistants, repairing the filters, boosting up the power levels of the Library. She knew the answer to her question.
“Yeah, I know,” she said begrudgingly.
We never had the power before, Quinn. This is going to require quite a bit of that power. We had to wait until we got the Library to this level for us to synchronize fully.
“So we weren’t before?” Quinn asked despite knowing the answer.
No, and you’re fully aware of that fact.
“And this synchronization will make me a whole Librarian?” Because even now, Quinn knew there were elements of her role here missing. Like pieces of a puzzle.
I think that’s an accurate description, the Library said.
“Well, is it going to be like Lynx was when he had to reset?” Quinn pushed.
The Library actually laughed. No, you are not a manifestation of me, Quinn. You are my Librarian. I can’t just absorb you into my being and have you come out fixed, or even come out fully formed. So no, I will not be absorbing you as I did Lynx.
Quinn cocked an eyebrow. “You know, you would think that was an extremely comforting thing to say to a person, but oddly, in this set of circumstances, it really isn’t.”
Huh, the Library said, and then there was a pause. I need you to know that some of what you witness, and some of the information you gain might cause confusion . . . it may even be upsetting.
Quinn thought about that for a few seconds. “Is it something detrimental for me?”
You’ll likely find it quite the opposite.
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Is it something malicious?”
No. Never malicious.
Quinn nodded, mulling it over. “Then I will do my best not to react until I’ve had time to digest what is revealed.”
Thank you.
“Is there a way I should sit? Should I eat now?” Quinn wiggled herself into the little divot she had for her butt. It really was oddly comfortable with the sponginess of the floor.
Take a breath, Quinn. I’m going to give you a very basic setup for this. Okay?
“Okay,” Quinn said, slightly wary.
Just sit how you usually do. Lean in that little root area that you’ve made yourself, and lean against my trunk. Before we synchronize, I need you to understand where I come from.
“Well . . . okay, then,” she said, leaning into the comfortable alcove of the tree. “Hit me.”
What? the Library asked.
“Like, tell me, give me the information.”
Oh, that’s a rather novel way to say that. Anyway, as you can probably guess, I’ve been around a very long time.
“Can we skip over the bleeding obvious and get to the summary of what we’re on about today?” Quinn drawled out in boredom.
Quinn, patience is a virtue.
“Yes, but not one of mine.”
The Library chuckled. Okay. Back when chaos ran rampant through the universe, creating, my kind was one of the first events. When we realized that chaos began devouring what it created, that it began feeding back in on itself, we realized that something had to be done. One of those solutions was the Library, which was spearheaded by my family. Of sorts.
“Well, I mean no one disputes that you’re the Library.”
Becoming the Library required a lot of work, a lot of magic. Not just from me, but from others as well, and all of it ended up contained within me. This was done so we could spread magic equally, so that magic was available to everybody, and anybody, without the risk of destroying them, and without destroying that for which it had been used.
Quinn was silent for a second. “Okay, so the Library was created to make sure this expansive universe didn’t eat itself and everything in it.”
Do you understand how huge the scope of the service we provide here is?
“Yes.” Quinn suddenly felt the true gravity of the situation. A wave of nausea hit her ever so subtly. “And I need to know this because . . .”
While you are synchronizing with me, there may be glimpses of things from my past that my brief history will help you understand and process.
“So we’re talking large-scale, mind-blowing stuff?”
Very large scale, the Library answered.
“Okay then, how do we do this synchronization?”
Just settle in comfortably.
Even as Quinn moved, she could feel the floor morph into almost a mattress underneath her, one of those memory foam ones that formed around the body. It was like a big cloudy hug. It raised her ever so slightly too, so she wasn’t directly on the ground anymore, but it was still cushy.
