Chapter 1: In the Library

     A musty scent wafted through the library. Thousands of ancient books, their pages brown from age, lined towering shelves of rotted wood. I gazed upward, looking toward where the roof would have been. A blue and purple void filled with stars rotated slowly, looming where the ceiling should be. The mesmerizing space-like sky illuminated the many books and stone floor.

     I looked down and to the left. The pathway between bookshelves expanded on and onward, its end out of my sight. I felt nothing at the sight and began to walk forward for some reason unknown to me. I kept moving for what felt like hours, but the end of the library-like place didn’t come any closer. But even so, I lumbered onward, ignoring the echoing noise of my bare feet meeting the floor. 

     Above me the void swirled incoherently. It would turn left, then go right, and then start going both ways in some kind of optical illusion. The star-like lights lit my path and dust floating from books and into the air, tainting the air with a stale scent. I walked through the flying particles, scattering them around me as I mindlessly strode onward in search of…something I couldn’t discern.

     During my seemingly endless march, I noticed a leather-bound book on the third level of a bookshelf. A title written in a language I couldn’t read was on its spine. I stopped instinctually and grabbed the book from the shelf. I opened the book, causing dust to fall from its black cover. It was hard from age, making it uncomfortable for me to hold.

     I opened it slowly and flipped to the first chapter. The writing on it was crude, strange lines that looked like they had been written by a child, and I couldn’t read it. But despite that, I moved to the next page. Then the next. I keep turning the pages and scanning the glyphs like I understood them. 

     For hours I stood there, turning page after page, letting my eyes glide over the book’s contents before I replaced it to the shelf. I sighed, wondering why I read that despite not understanding a single word written. But, for some reason, I felt like the book had a profound effect on me and I couldn’t will myself to move on, to walk away from it. The feeling of its leather cover burned in my hand, like I wanted to pick it up again.

     A chill ran down my spin and I looked behind me instinctually. A floating mass vaguely shaped like a human was standing over my shoulder. It looked like the void above me, blue and purple with stars in it. The thing ignored me and grabbed the book I had been reading. It hovered its hand over the leather cover for a moment before offering the book to me.

     I hesitantly accepted it and opened the book once more. Only this time, the words in it made sense to me. I understood the writing. I looked up at the mass to see it had taken shape. It now appeared like an angelic man, glowing, a halo above its head, and wings on its back. Light reflected off his golden skin, nearly blinding me. The angel-thing turned to look at me, its eyes like fire. 

     Then, without a word, it floated past me, heading down the endless corridor. I wanted to call out, to say something, but my mouth failed me. I made a guttural rasp, but that was enough. The angel stopped and turned to look at me. “You have a question?” he asked in a voice that echoed strangely.

     My throat tightened when the angel spoke and I was overcome with an abnormal fear. But I was not deterred. I opened my mouth and managed to squeeze out a one word question. “Who?” my voice made me seem like I was dehydrated. My voice cracked and I felt a pain in my mouth.

     The angel merely blinked, acting like he didn’t hear my question. But I knew he had. “I am the custodian of this place. I suppose you would call me a librarian,” he answered.

     He acknowledged me! The feeling made the fear subside a bit and I asked another question. “Where?”

     “Where are we…?” the angel asked and I nodded in response. “We are…” he looked toward the void above us and moved his mouth slowly. “I…no longer remember. All I know is that I have been charged with keeping this place.” His wings drooped downward and the fire that was his eyes died down for a moment.

     My throat loosened and I felt my ability to speak return. “...What is…this pla-place?”

     “The Library. Endless books and endless knowledge live here.” The angel placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head. Two of his four wings began to rise, giving him the appearance of a dragonfly. “I was charged with keeping this Library by…Who was it again?” he asked himself.

     “Your memories…they are gone?” I asked.

     The angel laughed humorlessly. “You lose track of memories and time after spending as much time here as I have.” He nodded toward the book I was holding. “What’s that book about?”

     I didn’t answer. I offered the book to him and he took it. He held it for a moment and a light emanated from it for a few seconds. “Hm…I see,” his voice was low enough that I could barely hear it. “Do you want the book back?”

     I tried to say no, but once more, I couldn’t. I, against my will, extended my arm and accepted the book. “What was it about?” I asked.

     “Philosophy. Nothing I care about,” he commented offhandedly.

     “What kind of philosophy?” I asked.

     “Whether or not memories make a human,” he scoffed. “Funny how that happens to be the book you grab and give to me, one without memories.”

     “It was an accident,” I blurted out. “I was just drawn to that book.”

     The angel regarded me with a lengthy, tired stare. “...Interesting,” was all he said.

     “What do you think?”

     “About?”

     I shuffled my feet awkwardly. “Do memories make a person?”

     “No.” He answered confidently. “No one thing makes a person who they are. What entirely makes a human is better left to mortal philosophers.”

     “Are you sure?”

     “If they do, then I am not human. However, even if I hadn’t memories, I wouldn’t be human,” the angel scoffed again. “I glow, have wings, am immortal, and wear silk robes. I’m pretty sure humans call things that look like me an angel.”

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     “You’re taking it too literally. Even non-humans can have a human side…I think.” I stated with a shaky voice.

     “And what would that side be?” the angel asked, his gaze never leaving me. “The ability to maybe do something good? To have basic morals? Or to be evil, like so many humans have?”

     “But for every evil human, there was a good one.”
    “That doesn’t mean anything. Being human means to be flawed,” he turned away from me and began to move away.

     “But aren’t humans also capable of performing good deeds despite being flawed? Doesn’t that make us worth some respect?” I asked, not wanting the conversation to die.

     “No. Imperfection doesn’t require respect.” The angel brushed off my question.

     “I…agree, but that isn’t what I said. I said we are worth some respect because we do good despite our flaws.”

     “Those flaws enable you to do bad as well,” The angel stopped and looked over his shoulder at me. “If humans were flawless, then there wouldn’t be evil feats that overshadow the good, would there?”

     “But when someone evil rises, humans rise up to destroy him.”

     “So what? It is because of humans evil can rise.”

     I winced. What made the angel so cynical? “Why do you believe that?”
    “Look where I spend my days,” he gestured at the bookshelves to his left and right. “I’ve read every event in human history with absolute clarity. I’ve seen vile degeneracy rise time and time again, sometimes not even masking its goals, yet humans let it fester. Perhaps some fight back, but the majority are neutral or supportive of it. Despite remembering atrocities, humans let them happen again and again.”

     “But-”

     The angel cut me off. “But nothing. Humans constantly let the machinations of evil take root and grow. Being human means to be flawed.”

     “But despite our flaws good can still come from us,” I insisted.

     The angel sighed. “You aren’t really listening, are you?” He grumbled to himself before floating upward and checking the books on another shelf. “If you don’t have any more questions, I’ll return you to where you came from.”

     I just then realized I was somewhere I shouldn’t be. The world felt…natural to me, so I didn’t mind being there, despite clearly not being part of it. “How did I get here?”

     “Whoever charged me with being this place’s custodian probably did to make sure I’m doing my job,” the angel answered. “Not to answer your philosophical inquiries.”

     “I have one more question.”

     A sigh disturbed the library’s silence. The angel nodded silently, “Ask it. This is your last question, so think it through.” 

     “If humans are human because we are flawed, then aren’t you human as well since you have forgotten things?” I asked earnestly.  

     “...” The angel pondered my question silently with arms folded and wings raised. “No.”

     “But doesn’t being imperfect make a human human?”

     “I grow sick of your repetitions,” the angel growled.

     “I’m just quoting you,” I insisted.

     “Then I suppose I have a human side. How does that prove anything?”

     “It proves you're in the same boat as humans, so shouldn’t you pity us to some extent?”

     “No,” he curtly said. “My job is to watch over this library, not coddle your species.”

     “...I see,” was all I said. “What if a human gave you aid? Is he still flawed and therefore bad?”

     “Yes.” The angel tightened his hands on his biceps. He was deeply embedded in his dogma. No argument reached the angel. He lacked interest in the conversation. “You asked your question, now leave.” He placed his hand on my shoulder and light blinded me.

     A few seconds later, or maybe a couple hours, I opened my eyes to see the leaves and limbs of trees above me being illuminated by a pale moon. The cool rays of the lunar celestial body settled on my skin comfortably, the light beautiful shining on the green grass swaying in the biting wind. I simply laid there for a while, wondering if I had dreamed my previous encounter or not.

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