The Infinite Library of Phaleron

“I don't understand,” Jonathan whispered as he stared at his hands, his hands that had once been pristine and whole and full of bone and blood and skin, his hands that were now rapidly turning to paper and mulch in a facsimile of human form. “I did everything right, I checked the time.”

He looked up at me with full horror, his eyes already losing their watery texture and turning to black pools of ink,

“I checked the time,” he screamed through his paper throat, shredding it and sending letters dancing into the air. The noises that ripped and tore through the air after that were a language unknown to me, or himself. A language so ancient and alien that it could exist in the air in physical form for a few moments after leaving its progenitor.

That was the first time I’d ever seen the reality of the dangers that lurked in the library in full force. It wasn't the last. I could never understand either, understand why I’d applied for such a dangerous job or why I kept coming back day after day. Maybe it was because my brother had just died, my sister was three solar systems away and I had nothing else to lose. Maybe it had always been an irresistible call deep within me, the unquenchable thirst for knowledge that had resided and grown and spread throughout my being ever since I’d formed my first conscious thought.

What better place to quench such a thirst than the Infinite Library?

It had been discovered on the planet Phaleron in 145 AE by a wayward expedition that had crash landed on the planet after their engines had been blown out by pirates. They discovered the very first signs of alien life ever found in the entirety of human starward expansion. And what a discovery it had been. A whole city, made of dark purple stone that matched the surrounding rugged landscape. Tall skyscrapers with sweeping arches and cathedral-esq spires dominated the space where the city crowded up against the only mountain for miles around. All of the main roads of the city led to the incomprehensibly large doors at the bottom of the stone monolith.

That first, accidental exploration crew probably uttered the same words poor Jonathan had when they stumbled into the vast, impossible space. I can't believe it sometimes, and I see it every day. The bookshelves. Dark walnut, amish style bookcases, double wide seemed to multiply in every direction. Up, down, east, west, south, north, everywhere there were bookshelves stacked on top of one another ad infinitum. Each one filled and sometimes overflowing with books.

There were no trees on Phaleron, nor did the fossil record discover a time there had ever been trees and yet the bookshelves were walnut. We only knew what ‘walnut’ was because the oldest seedship, the last to leave Earth, still had working databases that hadn't been wiped out in the Prime Solar wars like so many others had. A word almost lost to time and wars, a thing I had never seen with my own two eyes, and yet this alien planet had enough wood to fill every forest on that long barren planet and then some.

I don't understand how.

And neither does anyone else.

Neither did the first explorers.

Since I work for The Argot I’ve had the terrible privilege of watching the footage captured from each member's helmet cams as they began to explore. It’s part of orientation. Watching six human beings run for their lives as each is turned into a furious maelstrom of words and texts and sounds that mean nothing to us. The Argot are the ones who received the original distress signal and came to rescue the explorers, except there’d been nothing left to rescue. Nothing human anyway.

Ever since then The Argot Company has claimed the planet as their own and spent what I can only assume is a gross amount of money to research the Infinite Library. Most if not all electronics drop dead across the threshold, so the company couldn't use drones or androids. They had to resort to good old flesh and blood and pulp. Cameras work, as well as microphones, but not for any longer than four hours.

I don't understand why, and neither does The Argot although they like to pretend they know exactly how the Library works. They like to pretend a lot of things. Like why being in the Library somehow shaves minutes off the human lifespan for every hour someone is inside it. How the space consumes the human body slowly, from the inside out. They like to pretend they know why and how the Library snatches bodies the second someone isn’t paying attention.

The Argot knows something, but it isn’t these things.

They know that every employee can only spend four hours inside the Library each day, they know that they must pay each employee who enters the Library a deliciously fat hazard paycheck along with their regular one, and they know that because they are willing to pay out so much for a single weeks work, they have an endless supply of desperate test subjects.

They also know the most important rule for exploring the Library.

‘Always pay attention to the clock. Check the time every ten minutes, failure to do so will lead to immediate termination of The Argot’s contract with the employee.’

I’ve always found that phrasing to be interesting.

‘Immediate termination.’

The Library does all the work for them. Like what happened to Jonathan.

An employee a few years ago made the suggestion that the company should invest in digital watches that have alarms preset to go off every ten minutes. The Argot made a lot of huffing and puffing about the technology not working properly and it wasn't worth their research team's time. I snuck a watch in though, about two months ago, a digital watch. The thing worked the whole shift. Never put alarms on it though, I didn’t want to risk getting caught.

Despite the questionable authority I work for, and despite the hazardous environment I subject myself to day in and day out, despite the literal years off my life I’ve given to the Library, I understand.

I understand why The Argot is so insistent about figuring out what makes the eternal space tick, why it's there, why they have us catalogue and bring back book after book.

I need to understand what I don't understand just as much as they do.

And I think above all, I'm beginning to understand that the Library is much more alive than The Argot has suspected and I have a terrible, creeping suspicion that whatever this place is, it knows. It knows what drives us, it can feel the insatiable curiosity. The need. Its been counting on it.

I’ve been having nightmares lately about floating in a dark ocean, and out of the black water a brilliant white light appears and guides me. It draws me in like a moth to fire. And just as I’m about to reach it, it disappears and a terrible set of needle-like teeth spring out of the darkness and gulps me down in one go. In the break-room I’ve heard other people talk about their nightmares too. Its the same thing, in almost every one. Darkness, a light, some feel of hope or faith, and then death.

With every soul The Argot feeds the Library, it grows, whatever it is. It’s growing and spreading and consuming.

I may not understand it, but I do know enough to fear it.

I think I might quit soon. I have a nice amount stashed away that could get me off-world and maybe pay for a cozy cabin all the way to the frozen nowhere planet my sister has decided to make a home.

Just a few more shifts.

Just a few more.

[An entry found in the digital diary of one Mr. Paxton Charter. Item was retrieved during The Argot’s search of the deceased employee’s room at the Employee Hostel. All items recovered to be sent to only known living relative, Ms. Hailey Charter currently residing on exoplanet Mimir Minor]