Anon10/16/25, 19:43No.96768570
It's been a while since I've written anything so I thought I'd have a go at something quick.A thousand thousand halls and all in silence. All filled with books, wall to wall, floor to ceiling. In places even that vast space hadn't been enough to contain them, and they had overflowed; there were tunnels like mine-workings where - seeing that there was plenty of unused area above head height - extra shelves had been added spanning the gap, creating a new ceiling which groaned under the weight of paper so that props had to be wedged under them to stop it all collapsing. In the depths of the stacks there were even passages where - with the overspan unable to bear more weight - new bookcases had been lain flat, and gantries strung over them, so that prospective borrowers had to walk over them or even crawl, where the ceiling had got low enough.The library of the Damascene. In some parts of the world he was called a buddha (not *the* buddha, Siddhartha Gautama, but a walker on the same path), for he had been enlightened, although sources differed on whether by meditation or divine revelation. Further east still, he was referred to as a sage, although only by a tiny sect consisting of less than a hundred people whose ancestors had, at one time, been Manichaeans. How he became part of the Manichaean corpus was unknown even to him, although given that they managed to integrate Jesus Christ into Zoroastrianism and Chinese folk religion, it should hardly have been a surprise.The Damascene may or may not have been spiritually enlightened, but there was one thing he was lacking, and that was knowledge. He just couldn't hold onto it. Maybe it was *because* he was so in touch with the spiritual realm, but every fact he learned about anything relating to... well, reality, which is to say everything to do with anything we would recognise, flowed straight out of him.