Bibliotheca Imaginum

By Udren, how big is this place? To think the Solar of Literature would know the site of each page the same as the stars in the sky still confounds me. Ten thousand years into my apprenticeship and I am yet to locate the right shelf half the time. And I should be the one to succeed them? Solars' bane. Curse these labyrinthine halls. My lantern would barely shine upon the signpost of the upcoming section, how does one expect me to seek out a nameless works by this century with such pitiful equipment?

I have heard how they do it on the physical plane, with newfangled computers and Dewey-decimals. "But their libraries are less respected." Says Udren. "In the post-modern age, purchasing volumes outright from the 'global interwebs' is more practical." What nonsense. Utter hokum! "And it would not function for our collection." Well, they have me there. After all, the Bibliotheca Imaginum was made for the incomplete, the unknown, the unwritten. How could one categorise something that is yet to be?

To my left and right, lining these shadowed cases and aisles - there are solely the ideas that remain to be honed, stories to be shared, editions to be perfected. We stock nothing that has graced the eye of adoring readers or wasted a stormy afternoon. Nought that has been borrowed or sold. Not one tome, libram, grimoire, or folio that has instructed and educated. In my wake, I leave accounts of events that have still to transpire. Ahead, I would find folktales never penned, only shared upon the tongues of men long passed and languages no longer spoken.

And it is within these blasted dreamlike halls I find myself unable to locate anything! Should I have been after a great-grandmother's peach cobbler recipe, I would've retrieved it without issue. For such parchments have both unquestionable authors and titles, and off the top of my head would be located in the south-east wing which I alphabetised during my first millennia.

Here every single human imagining has been amassed and catalogued by legions of seekers, yet not one of them has perhaps thought to detail a map of the place? Solars' bane, I wouldn't know where to start. No, because they have the privilege of being able to sniff out exactly what they're looking for. "The books call to them." Says Udren. Lucky beasts. Why wasn't I graced with such gifts? Ah, and there's one of them now, putting away another stack of work-in-progress novellas, as if we didn't already have enough of those. It's their beady eyes that get me, like dolls - ignorant to any notion of intelligence. But I smile and nod as always as I pass. I suppose I'll have to learn to like them if I'm ever to take over.

Back on track now. Let's see, if I double-check my notes, I believe the customer was after... 'An idea for a fantasy story that they had in the shower?' Seems a bit odd to me, but I've heard worse. At least I think I'm in the right section now... Funny, it isn't here. I'm at Ideae literariae ab imbre, and there's nothing under the customer's name concerning the genre. They've an entire shelf to these, and yet... Great, so I'll have to go looking somewhere else?

I'll have to suck up my pride and go ask one of the seekers. I could return to the reference desk and tell the customer we've lost it or don't have it, it would save me another trip at least... Sigh, but Udren would tell me off if they found out. Okay, so here I go. I return to the seeker I passed and pat their shoulder to get their attention. I know they won't understand me unless I'm clear and concise... Ah, screw it, I'll just show them the receipt... Well, at least they're helpful. They leave their own work for the moment and lead on, though not for too long. They've taken me to a puddle-gate - our teleports between wings. Is it really that far away? They realign the surrounding rings to the right coordinates and apparently go back to what they were doing. I can respect that - there's always so much to catalogue that they don't have time for retrieval.

I enter the gate and hold my breath, before I'm transported off to... Futurum optimum-venditores? But that's Future Best-Sellers... Huh, well who'd have thought it? I guess it could happen to anybody. You know, I've spent my years working here fetching all sorts of scriptures for the customers who pass by here in their dreams, though this is the first time I've been given the honour to present one with good news. So I search, and lo and behold, there it is. Rather inconspicuously sitting on a shelf, collecting dust - the book that has the potential to kick-start this author's career.

Once I hand it over, I suppose they'll be on with copying it so they can immortalise the real thing. Oh, well I'll have to remember to warn them about returning this one on time - books that aren't brought back within the month turn to dust, and any duplicate or even the memory of them are lost to time. Not that one often remembers visiting the Bibliotheca Imaginum.

I head back to the puddle-gate, changing the rings to display the coordinates of the reference desk. I do hope they'll be pleased with it. From my touch, I can study it in mere moments. Heh, I can see why it will do so well - it's so wondrous, so inspired. But then I find myself at the counter, and they're gone... I suppose they must have woken up. Great, I took too long again. Solars' bane.

Well, I expect that they may attempt to return sometime soon. I'll keep their book to hand for now, just in case they find their way back to the Bibliotheca Imaginum in their dreams. Sigh, looks like more customers have arrived.