The Library of Babel

Participants:

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Scene Title The Library of Babel
Synopsis Travelers meet the librarians at the end of the world.
Date October 29, 2018

The Library at the End of the World

Once upon a time, before the waters swept into the city and rose three hundred feet, this building had been a joint purpose building. The lower half, now well underwater, had been the headquarters of a multinational publishing company, while the top half had been reserved for luxury apartments. The building, at least the shining top that looked like three books stacked together, held and stayed upright, the top twenty floors towering over the shimmering sea. Glass has been replaced in many places with steel patchwork, and a steel based entrance and dock juts out of the middle section.

The doors were closed, right up until a woman in her mid-thirties greeted them at the entrance, exchanging a few words with the captain who had brought them there. A woman with a shotgun resting on her shoulder. None of them recognized the woman, in a long dark coat, hair cropped short and boyish, obviously of Asian descent. She introduced herself simply as Sumi.

“Welcome to the Library at the End of the World.” Her English was good, with very little accent, as she carefully looked over each of them.

The library, the bottom floors at least, were composed of apartments. Worn furnishing, damaged and patched, carpets over what had once been wooden floors slightly rotted by the damp. Metal piping had been added in places, filtering out of the metal windows to let smoke escape to help with heating. Some still had glass, looking out at the sea. Some of the apartments were used by visitors, like the ones they found themselves in, allowing them to clean up, dry off and otherwise wait to be escorted further up. Instead of a key, each were required to be stamped on the back of the hand, by the tall Japanese woman. A single black stamp, the black ink darkening their skin. Much like a nightclub in the old world might have done to show someone underage. Any who refused were sent back to the boat. Then they were all asked to wait, together.

The guest apartments did have books, all with stark white pages that seemed to resist the damp, ink that didn’t seem to run, and a binding made of molded plastic, hard and soft in all the right places. For plastic was the most resilient of all ocean trash. And there was so much of it. Classic books, encyclopedias, children's books, romance and western novels, all with delicate printing and a stamp on the last page that looked just like the stamp on the back of each of their palms.

A stamp that did not wash off.

After a few hours, another woman appears, and older woman with glasses hanging off the end of her nose. Glasses that looked like they have been repaired multiple times, with slightly different colored glass in each lense. She offers them a warm smile, though again, none of them recognize her. “Your stay has been paid for the first two days. If you wish to remove any books or stay longer, you can barter individually.”

They had been brought by a ship captain to this building, due to a trade that they had made when they arrived. He had paid their way.

“There Library consists of three sections, one in each tower. You are free to come and go between them. Do not try to take anything without permission or repayment.” There’s a sternness in her eyes. She expects to be listened to.

The library itself, they quickly discovered, was massive. Ten floors of former luxury apartments with ten feet from floor to ceiling, each section making up what had once been an apartment. They each have sitting areas for reading between the shelves, and seemingly working bathrooms. People could spend days and weeks within these rooms.

From the appearance of some of the guests curled up on the couch, they practically lived here.

No books lay around, they all have been returned to their shelves when not in used. The rooms are dusted and clean. The only things present besides the few people here and there—

Are cats. Black cats, gray cats, white cats, tabby cats, cats of all shapes and sizes. But even they seem to have very little in the way of dirt. Someone cleans up after them. Perhaps some of the “guests” even trade their labor cleaning up after them as their payment to stay. Each floor has a kitchen, which serves water, tea, and dried food to nibble on, and a decent meal for all ‘guests and residents’ every night. Like the books in the waiting room, they are all bound in plastic. No books seem to have the original binding, or the original printing.

All the guests have a that same stamp, some kind of Japanese character, on the back of their hands. The few who don’t— those are the ones who stand out the most. The librarians.


Main Tower


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The Binding


One of the towers houses what is simply considered the main library. It’s the easiest to get to, and the one with the most folks sitting around reading. There’s also a young teen who’s looking disgruntled in the direction of one of the cats. Dark hair, brown eyes, he’s no older than Squeaks probably, but he looks vaguely familiar to all three of them. Like he’s someone they knew once, or someone they almost knew. Or maybe he just has one of those faces. A face that’s twisted in a stubborn frown as he looks up at a bookshelf that stretches near the entire wall.

And the tiny pale gray cat that somehow climbed it’s way up there and is now meowing in desire to get back down. “Well, if you wouldn’t climb up everything maybe you wouldn’t get stuck up there,” he mutters. The voice doesn’t spark the same familiarity.

The young teen is nowhere near tall enough to reach the cat, and he doesn’t move away to find a step stool just yet, though the library has them. Some of the shelves are seven feet up, after all. Not everyone can reach those easily.

There are books, books, and… more books. Lance was never a big reader, unless one counted comic books, and it’s been a long time since he had that sort of leisure. Still, the one thing they reminded him of was the closest thing he has to a mother. Walter said that this Stef has a brother named Brian, but Gillian wasn’t named Stef!

A mystery to be uncovered.

As he prowls the stacks with the others looking for— he’s not sure what, maybe a Brian?— he comes upon the scene, pausing to look up at the high shelves. A glance back to the oddly-familiar-looking young man, offering, “You want me to get him down?”

Curiosity formed days ago about a million and seven things. But one wondering sparked really bright in Squeaks’ mind when the Walter and Cat persons who fished all the travelers out of the ocean talked about a library run by Stephanie Winters. Not for the books alone, but also for the person named Winters, who also has a brother named Brian. It can’t be coincidence with Brian Winters — because the aliens and Eve had talked about other worlds and other selves — but who was Stephanie? And where was Gillian?

So when the chance to get off the boat and visit the library came up, she took it.

Since getting stamped and allowed into the library, Squeaks has tried to see everything all at the same time, afraid to miss anything. It’s pretty impossible, and she’s lucky she hasn’t swiveled her head off her shoulders for trying. There’s so many books, all in one place even. There were also books in the Wasteland, but never like this. Those were often loved and read to tatters while these… these books could probably be around forever and ever.

Sticking to some long-practiced habits, she’s mostly followed Lance so far. Sometimes she wanders, turning down one way to come up another. Other times she pauses so she can stop and give one of the thousands of cats some much needed attention. They’re starved for it and all, just ask one. But usually she’s been at least where she can see the older teen.

The desire to explore is strong, but not strong enough to go off alone. Lighthouse still stays together.

As they’re wandering closer to the boy, Squeaks’ attention wanders from books to the familiar face. The little cat is given a quick look, and so is Lance when he offers to help. But it’s the teenager she’s more curious about. Her eyes get a little squinty, but whatever it is that she recognizes isn’t revealing itself. So after a second she offers a quick grin, another look for the cat, and a, “Hi.”

Magnes knows exactly who Stef is, but he's stayed out of the way of the kids for this trip, still feeling very dad-like and like he doesn't want to cramp their style too much.

However, he didn't only come here for Stef, he came here to take a look at the modern history books, to find newspaper archives, anything that could be clues about the nature of this world. This seems like one of the best ways to find out how things branch, how far back the changes go.

He does, however, briefly stop at Squeaks and Lance, holding up a finger. "Hey, have fun, but let me know if you see Stef."

Finding newspapers might be difficult. There hasn’t been anything that even remotely looked like a newspaper in the entire building so far. Perhaps they had a microfiche reader and rolls of microfiche, but none of the rooms that Magnes has seen have looked like they had anything like that. The young teen looks over and grins at people much closer to his age than normal. They had kids come to the Library sometimes, but not often. There’s no hint of recognition in his brown eyes, that somehow too seem oddly familiar. The eye color especially.

But he seemed too young. Or too old.

“I could use a hand. She’s a stubborn one,” he adds, as he looks up at the gray cat, who had a darkening of color on her face and the end of the tail that lashed around. A blue point gray siamese, specifically.

The cat itself lets out a noisy meow, and then those blue eyes meet Squeaks.

And they all hear a whispered voice in the back of their heads.

Hoe gaan dit.

The young teen sighs and makes a wave of his hands, as if to shush, but he knew it was too late. Cause there was a very familiar husky voice suddenly from the doorway, “Tibby, you know better than that.” It’s Gillian.

With those same hazel eyes, the beauty mark on her cheek and that dimple that’s visible when she smiles or frowns. And she’s frowning now.

The gray siamese hisses a little, tail lashing in frustration, and then despite all her complaining before she just launches off the top of the shelf and lands on the table, presenting her butt toward the librarian.

Calm yer tits, Stef. They not Sentinel.

That same mental voice. Thankfully it doesn’t look like any other guests are in the room. The young teenager just presses a hand against his forehead. “Sorry, mom,” he apologizes. And that’s when they realize where they know him from. He looks like an older version of Nate, Gillian’s son in their world. And a little like a younger version of Peter. At least those eyes are the same.

“I could probably— “ The sudden telepathic voice cuts Lance off, and he’s looking around with furrowed brow as if to find the source of it. A search which ends at that most familiar of voices coming from the door.

She looks the same. She sounds the same. She’s not, he knows, but logic rarely fits into life — especially these days. “G— Gillian?” Uncertain, he glances to Squeaks, to ‘Nate’, then back to the librarian.

“Who… ” Squeaks begins to question the voice inside her head. A look darts to the boy then back to the cat. A small frown begins to form, mildly suspicious at the unknown and disembodied voice, and she’s just starting to decide if she should be worried or just cautious when another voice speaks up from behind. It isn’t inside her head like the first, but its familiarity is startling.

With wide eyes, she turns to look. “Gillian?” Her echo of Lance’s question is almost a whisper. She knew about the other selves, or she guessed about them after her very last talk with Eve in the Wasteland. Seeing it is a whole different thing. Her eyes swivel to the boy as he speaks again, then return to Stef as all those pieces start coming together.

Magnes vaguely knows the 'story' of Stephanie Winters, but he's not particularly sure if that story applies in this universe. He does notice the reaction of the kids, holding his hand up as if to ask them to calm down a bit, mostly due to the use of the name 'Gillian'. "Stef." he says, walking over and holding a hand out. "Excuse them, they're a bit excited. They heard a lot about you, though they might be a little confused with your name."

"By any chance do you know who I am?" he asks, though that's ridiculously unlikely, if they know the him from this universe, it's not as if he's completely unrecognizable, but…

The young teen looks confused, looking between his mom and the guests, before squinting at them all as if trying to figure out who they happen to be. The boy has a skeptical look about him. Skeptical and protective, though he doesn’t look like he’d be strong enough to do much. And the expression on his mom’s face probably isn’t helping either.

At first Stef appears to be stunned, as if she recognized something in the way they said things, licking lips in a sign of nervousness. Their names might be different, their clothes and styles, but some nervous ticks remain, even if certain things just feel different about the way she stands. It’s as if this one has more confidence and self-assurance and self-worth that their Gillian had never quite had. She also seems content. Which might seem strange considering the state of the world.

Hazel eyes linger on Squeaks a little longer than any of them, before she looks back at Magnes, the one who at least seems to know her name. And someone who looks familiar and she can’t quite place it. “Did I know your family?” she asks after a moment. Cause that’s what it feels like. He looks like an old hermit that lived among the broken tower islands. Had that man had a son? She doesn’t remember.

The blue tipped Siamese, that seemed able to talk, starts to lick her front paw before running it over her face, pulling an ear down.

It’s her. It’s also not her. Lance inwardly curses himself at saying the name— since the librarian doesn’t seem to be going by it. What did he expect, though? He looks to Squeaks uncertainly, then back over to the ‘talking’ cat, trying to find some way out of this awkward moment. The cat doesn’t seem to really need rescue.

Oh, perfect, she’s talking to Magnes. Escape!

He moves to slip away from the whole scene in perfect silence, stepping towards the nearest shelf to try and sneak off— although given that the other teenager is watching he probably doesn’t succeed completely.

“I’m not confused,” the girl mumbles with a glance at Magnes. A frown briefly touches her expression. She’s pretty sure she’s not confused. Stef definitely looks like Gillian, and they both have the same last name. When she looks back at Stef, she’s a little surprised to see the librarian still looking at her. Her eyes get a little wide with cautious curiosity. There are questions starting to form.

Her head half turns when Lance starts trying to sneak off, but her desire for answers is strong enough to keep her in place. Mostly. As the librarian’s attention turns to Magnes, Squeaks does take a half step back. Maybe that little bit of distance is needed to understand easier. As she moves, a look bounces to the cat and the boy — is it still Nate in this world? — then returns to Stef and Magnes.

"Ah, it's possible. Me and, uh, the martial arts guy, Magnes. J. Varlane, we're kind of family, in a way." Magnes looks himself over, then says, "My name is also Magnes J. Varlane, I guess I don't come from a very original family." He looks back at Squeaks, then to Stef. "I had a friend named Gillian, she looked a lot like you. The kids knew her too."

The young teen’s eyes definitely follow the other young man as he starts to move away around the bookshelves. He’s listening carefully, but seems interested in just about everything going on, except the talking cat now. He’d known about the cat, after all, even if he felt he needed to apologize for it.

With Magnes’ explanation about how he not only shares a younger face with the hermit she recognized but a name, she just nods slowly, “He seemed like he came from an interesting family.” And now she’s wondering how closely related, because the more she looks at him the more he looks like that older man that often keeps to himself these days. “Well, my name is Stef. It’s the one my parents gave me. But Gillian…” she trails off, as if she’s considering something.

Then she looks toward Squeaks. “Is your name… Jac?” she asks after a moment, hiding her unease well, but it’s still there. That causes the boy to turn in surprise toward his mom, having not expected that question at all, really. Or to see the hesitation.

Just about to make his ‘escape’, Lance hears the question— and it’s not like anyone here should know Squeaks’ real name. He turns his head to look back with a frown, brow furrowed in bemusement as he looks back to the younger girl and then back to Stef.

“She’s not Gillian,” he says quietly but firmly, for Squeaks as well as to remind himself.

“She took care of us.” Squeaks’ voice is still barely more than a whisper as she fills in a teeny bit how she and Lance knew Gillian. It’s hardly anything loud enough to interrupt the grown-ups talking and followed by her clamping her mouth closed. Her lips fold inward and are held tight with teeth. No need to keep speaking up just yet, not without hearing more anyway. And seeing how the more practiced travelers handle things. It’s a foolproof plan.

Except …Stef knows her real name.

A look darts over her shoulder to where Lance is paused, anxious and confused in a way she’s never been in a really long time. Not since her earliest days with the Lighthouse. For a second, she thinks about following his lead instead of answering the question. But her curiosity is a traitor and so she nods first, then answers, “Yes,” in that same, really quiet voice.

"Our family can be a bit… interesting, at times." Magnes admits, his gaze lingering on Stef's for a long moment, before she asks Squeaks a question, and he looks over at the young girl.

“Most families are,” Stef responds softly, not looking away from Squeaks as she does. “A few nights ago, not long after the sky… changed. I had an— incident.” As she mentions that, the teenage boy whispers something under his breath that some of them might be able to hear. Something about how that’s one word for it. “I saw something, like a dream while awake. You were in it.” She trails off, shaking her head. “I thought it was just fumes or…” No.

It wasn’t fumes. That much she realizes. “In it we were family. Living in rather nice house, baking together in a kitchen. I was teaching you how to make cookies for later…”

Fok. So that’s what happened when you stared off into space for an hour. Ya had us worried sick.

That’s the telepathic whisper coming off of the cat on the table, which again earns a quick glance from the teenage boy who adds, “You didn’t have to bite her though.”

Was tryin to wake her.

“Nate, it’s okay,” Stef adds, with a wave of her hand, before he nods. “And Tibby? Language.” The cat hisses a little and jumps down off the table and saunters off into the hall as only a cat can do. And interestingly enough every other cat follows her.

What? Lance draws back towards the group again, though there’s still a frown of suspicion; walking slowly over to Squeaks, a hand drifting to the younger girl’s shoulder. “Are you a— precog, or something?” That’d be nice, wouldn’t it? A happy future for a change.

He isn’t buying it. The future never gets better.

The explanation almost sounds like some of the crazier things Eve’s said, seeing things that haven’t happened. Squeaks’ eyes dart first to Nate and then the cat. “We were family.” It’s an echo, a confirmation about the Gillian she knew and the family that was the Lighthouse. There’s also sadness in it. That’s all gone now. This isn’t their Gillian, and it’s really hard to remember that. Especially when she apprehensively turns to look at Stef again.

She startles a little when Lance’s hand rests on her shoulder. And after a second the girl takes a tiny step closer to him, more for comfort than out of fear of anything. She’s pretty sure there’s not a lot to be afraid of, at least not on a library.

“That sounds like a good dream,” Squeaks does eventually say. It follows a long minute of much more than staring, searching with blue eyes flicking to look at everyone all at the same time. “You probably make really primal cookies.”

"She's not a precog." Magnes says, after listening to that explanation. He looks from Lance, to Squeaks. "I don't think I ever knew you." he says, regarding Squeaks, but then he hones his gaze on Lance. "You, I knew, when you were a little kid, back where I'm from. Actually, you probably remember that, since it was before the split." He looks to Stef, taking a deep breath for a long moment.

"I can't say for sure, but somehow, what she's describing sounds like where I'm from, probably where you two are from too. The Lighthouse meant a lot to Gillian, there's a chance that she's seeing a version of it from my world, and I could definitely see you being a part of it." he offers a warm smile to Squeaks, then turns his gaze back to Stef.

"If she's seeing things like this, it wouldn't be fair to keep this from her." He holds his hand out to the woman, nodding. "Back in my world, you were one of my best friends, and I hope we can talk frankly about this, because it would make everything a lot less confusing. I like to think that there shouldn't be a world where I can't trust you."

“I’m not a precog,” Stef responded to that question simply. “And I doubt even a precog alone would have seen what I saw. You looked different, but about the same age as you are now. And I don’t think houses like that exist in the world above sea-level.” Cause it reminded her of the Brooklyn brownstones she had always wanted to own when she grew up. And maybe it had been, with the lovely wood panelled kitchen and stairs and garden outside. But no, she didn’t think a place like that would exist anymore.

But as Magnes continues, she nods slowly, then turns her eyes on her son, “Lock up the floor and have everyone move up or down. I’d like to hear what they have to say.”

The Lighthouse. These young adults. A close friend who she doesn’t think she ever met. There’s a lot that they would like to tell. The teenager nods, making a shrugging gesture before he leaves the room, closing the door behind him as he does. It gives them a little more privacy for the moment, while he clears off the floor.

With a gesture toward the table with fake wood chairs, she moves to sit down herself. “Sit please.” At least with Squeaks and Magnes. The way the young man keeps edging away she half expects him to join Nate in clearing the floor.

“I know. I just wasn’t saying anything, because unlike you, Brian taught us operational security,” says Lance a bit dryly to Magnes’s words, gaze flickering back to Stef to watch with her reaction. Then he shakes his head, nudging Squeaks a little as he moves towards a chair as offered.

“Someone’s got to keep an eye on him,” the teenager says in reference to Magnes, even as he drops into a seat. Still, his gaze drifts back to Stef, a bit torn.

As Magnes spills it all, Squeaks’ eyes widen. He’s really just going to tell it all just like that? Even if the librarian looks and sounds like Gillian, they still don’t know enough to be sure it’s safe. “He would’ve lectured us hard for giving away too much too soon,” she very quietly adds to Lance’s statement. She remembers that concept really good, with her unending curiosity it’d been a harder lesson to learn.

As she’s nudged, the girl looks up to meet her brother’s gaze. But as unsure as she is about everything, she does offer a small grin for his decision to stay. And keep an eye on Magnes. She sinks into one of the chairs and looks up at Stef again, probably waiting for questions.

"Like I've never been lectured by Brian before. I've been breaking operational security since before you guys could pronounce operational security." Magnes says as he turns to Stef, nodding and moving to take a seat. "There are certain risks you have to take, certain rules you have to break, because if you don't break those rules and you don't take those risks, the best you get is safe, the worst you get is no where."

"I admit that there are a lot of differences between worlds, I even met a version of myself who was similar but also very different. That said…" He motions to Stef. "This isn't my first or second Gillian, and even though she's different, even though this world is probably more different from any world I've ever seen, this… her…"

He stares hard at Stef. "She isn't some evil person. Look around you, look at her, and think about what you know of the kind of person she is. It isn't all just projecting, this isn't magic. At her core, when it comes to what matters, to what makes a Gillian who we know her to be, fundamentally, she is someone that we can trust."

"Aren't you, Stef?" he asks, holding a hand out to her.

Operational Security. Stef’s eyes widen a moment at the mention of Brian, but she doesn’t break in, instead leaning forward in her chair looking at the teens curiously before focusing on the one who was talking, telling too much, as the young ones say.

There’s a long moment of silence when Magnes finishes, before she nods slowly. “I don’t consider myself evil, certainly.” Though she’s sure even the Vanguard did not consider themselves evil. “The library is a haven for anyone who needs it. Our goal is to preserve what had been lost.” Because so much had. She only had some of what had been lost. Mostly what was in writing, what she had been able to get before the flood waters rolled in, what people had found.

“Tibby was a smuggler until a few years ago,” she looks in the direction the cat left. “She died. But she had an ability to talk to cats and she jumped into a cat’s body. We have another one like that here, too, I’d found him not long after the flood. One of our traders knew about him and brought her here. Others might have killed her knowing what she was.” Unnatural, some people would call it. Abilities. Evolved. The reason this Flood happened in the first place.

“If I can help, I will, but I’m not sure what could be offered in the Library. It’s a safe place, though. For anyone. As long as you do no harm, no harm will come to you.”

There’s another long pause, before she looks back at Lance and Squeaks. “You mentioned the Lighthouse. There’s a Lighthouse here. Run by a man named Eric Doyle. It’s a building, not a lighthouse, but they call it by that name.”

Some things across worlds never change.

“I’d like to hear about… Gillian, if you have the time…”


Right Tower


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The Page


Each of the three towers had a “purpose”, with specific floors dedicated to different things, but where the small group of travellers from another world find themselves in is what had been considered the “research” library. Pens and pencils were supplied for making notes, blank books of various sizes and page amounts available for purchase. Many of the reference books were stored in these areas, the maps, old and new. Mostly old.

There’s much fewer people in this section, surprisingly. They must only allow a certain number of people into the library at a time, but as they move and examine, they hear a soft yelp of surprise, followed by a tumble that sounds very much like a bookshelf half falling over and spilling its contents on the floor.

The suite this tragedy occured in had been empty, except for a rumpled young woman half buried under plastic bound books. A short haired gray tabby nudges against an ankle that sticks out with its nose, before startling at the movement and running off to hide under a chair.

Lynette has not been handling the library very well. She seems like she’s just barely holding back tears as she looks around the stacks. The little girl in her arms clings around her neck, little fingers playing with her mother’s hair. But this library lives up to its name well enough and the seemingly endless books are enough to remind her of stories read under dim lights out on warm beaches. And Lynette is unsteady enough lately that reminders of her first husband are difficult to manage.

It’s Evie tugging on her that brings her attention to the odd sounds. The girl points and Lynette takes them in that direction. Seeing the accident, she sets her daughter down and moves to push the shelf back upright.

“Are you alright?” she asks while Evie starts to unbury her one book at a time.

"Holy shit." Were the first words that Isabelle uttered as she arrived with her family to the library. What… all of the books.. the water.. the towers it all seemed very Fantasy novel and along with the cats Izzy feels as if they are the characters in a long, epic, odyssey. It gives her pause, someone should be writing about all of this.

Hair loose and framing around face, hazel eyes shift around the place, there has to be information on solar activity here. Something they can chart. Data, data. The air around the group stays comfortably warm though there had been several instances where the pyro had looked sheepish as she turned the dial down before the heat got overwhelming especially for Evie. It had been a hard time since she… a firm shake of her head ruins her from going back down memory lane. She won't do it. Instead she's raising an eyebrow at the woman covered in books before she's approaching slowly, might as well help. She might have some information for them.

Struck silent with awe at the library as a whole, Shaw accompanies the others closely, holding Isa's hand in his. But his rounded, dark eyes wander, shamelessly, aimlessly moving from each new sight to the next. The interruption of tumbling books changes that. The man refocuses, moving after Lynette and Izzy and Evie to help with pushing the bookshelf off the woman.

He blinks at the grey tabby zooming off, wrinkling his nose. So much for the help. Not that the cat would be able to do much.

The bookshelf doesn’t quite make it all the way down before instinct kicks in and Odessa’s hand shoots out toward the sound. It’s a fumbling gesture, and she curses herself for not being quicker, but this is not a place she’s familiar with. Hurrying to Lynette’s side, she helps push the shelf back into place. With that done, she plucks the few half-fallen books out of the air and begins placing them carefully on shelves. Once the last has been set aside, there’s another loud sound as the shifting of spilled tomes completes and Odessa’s grip on time has been released.

“Come on, Evie. Pass me those books.” She takes each one from those little hands and places them back on the shelf - in no particular order (sorry, librarians) - and exchanges a look with Isa and Shaw.

“Owwwwwie,” the rumpled woman says as she moves, thanks in part to some of the pressure taken off her body. Her clothes are in disarray, as is her hair, and she looks as if dizzy for a moment as she rubs her head. And then her deep blue eyes focus on the Lynette first. Those eyes widen in surprise, with a startled, “Lynette?” That doesn’t last too long as the surprise dissolves into something else.

A realization.

“Oh no,” she moans, flinching a little at the sight of Ruiz as well, who just looks somewhat amused as he bends down beside the young girl moving books. Those blue eyes don’t seem to recognize any of the others, though she pauses for a moment on Odessa as if confused. But then she continues. The more she talks, the more her British accent comes out. “I’m dead.” She’s definitely not dead, but she doesn’t stop talking. “I always knew this is how I would go. Nic always says the books were going to kill me.”

She does look genuinely distraught, but when she looks down at the piles of books and the little girl helping hand them over to the other woman, she looks as if she wants to apologize to those books. “I hope I didn’t hurt any of you.”

“Hello,” Lynette says when the woman recognizes her. She’s still not quite used to that, but at least it isn’t as odd as it used to be— strangers knowing them. “You’re not dead,” she assures. Evie stops handing books to Odessa and comes over to give the librarian a little pinch— it’s too clumsy to hurt, but Evie seems to think it’ll prove something. “Evie we don’t pinch people. I’m sorry,” she says, offering the woman a hand up.

“But she’s not dead,” Evie says, little fingers wrapping around the fabric of Lynette’s sweater as she comes to stand beside her mother.

With an expression that mimics many of the felines around the library, Shaw stares at the young woman when she recognizes the Ruizes, blinking a few times then placing a few books back on the bottom of the larger shelf. He straightens, retreating back to Isa’s side. The faintest hum of a Belinda Carlisle song hook slips out from the man as his gaze explores the surroundings and eventually returns to the group. “No we’re fine,” he answers seemingly for the whole of them. “And you’re not dead.” Evie gets a confirming nod at that.

“Are you okay, Miss…?” The man remembers to ask belatedly, studying her curiously.

There’s a small snort that might have been a sneeze from the way that Odessa presses the back of her hand to the underside of her nose. More likely, it’s a snort of laughter at Evie’s way of proving to someone they aren’t dead. But the little girl’s mother is right - they shouldn’t pinch people. No matter how funny it is.

Once the stranger is sufficiently unearthed from the avalanche of books as to be able to extract herself the rest of the way with the help of Lynette’s offered hand, Odessa takes a step back. She’s getting used to the looks of vague recognition, but still isn’t sure what to make of them yet. Isn’t sure what any of them make of her yet.

Hands placed on her hips as the woman seems to recognize the Ruizes and thinks she's dead. Well their cover never lasts for fucking long that's for sure. Isabelle tilts her head at the woman but remains otherwise silent, Lynette and Shaw are personable enough for this. Izzy's next actions are not hidden, she has no shame.

Pulling a golden, battered flask out from her back pocket, the unscrews the cap and knocks back a healthy bit of the harsh liquor and gives one of the felines a dirty look, "Don't go judging me."

In response to them all telling her she’s not dead, the rumpled woman reaches up and touches that pinched cheek and whispers a quiet question in a wondering tone, “I’m not?” Almost as if she wondered if they weren’t sure either. Her eyes move from Lynette to Ruiz and back again, and she shakes her head, “Are you sure?”

Even then, she takes the blonde woman’s hand, the hand that helps her get to her feet and out from under the piles of books. “That’s a relief.” It certainly sounded like one, as she looked toward Shaw, whom she doesn’t seem to give the same familiar look as at least two of them. “Oh, Iris Earhart. Nice to meet you! Welcome to the Library of Babel, as some of us call it.” It sounds like it’s an inside joke. The other name was too, really. “Oh Lynette, you and Mateo disappeared before we ever even started on it. I assumed the worst.” And with that she suddenly threw herself at Lynette to hug her tightly.

And a moment later she’s disengaged and rounding on Ruiz, who looks taken aback and glances over the shorter girl’s head toward his wife and Odessa both. He was unsure if they should burst this poor woman’s bubble that it’s very possible that him and Lynette were dead. Her versions, at least. The cat that seemed to be glaring at Isa, a black and white with unique splotching and green eyes is suddenly addressed, “Why don’t you go find Nic and Stef for me, Ama? I’ll see if our guest will share a splash of her drink with you when you get back.” The cat’s tail lashes a moment, and then it oddly saunters off, tail continuing to squish side to side.

“Yes, we heard the nickname,” Lynette says, letting out a gentle sigh. Not that books weren’t affecting in their own way, but it wasn’t the collection that frayed Lynette’s emotions. But she’s distracted from them at the moment, given that this stranger is hugging her suddenly. She returns it warmly— even though she isn’t the person Iris thinks she is. When Ruiz gets his turn, Lynette can only sag and spread her hands helplessly. She doesn’t know what the right thing is.

It’s Evie who seems to know what to do. She tugs on Iris’ sleeve to get her attention. “My mamí and papí aren’t your mamí and papí,” she says, as if it weren’t the most confusing way to put it.

"Oh. Like Amelia," Shaw murmurs offhandedly to the name Iris produces, until his thoughts circle back around from their short flight. He glances sidelong to Odessa, mouthing a silent 'bless you', and then looks over to Isa's flask with a brief longing.

Instead of lingering on the alcohol, Shaw sends a curious glance to the huffy black-and-white cat as it slinks away as if in response to Iris. "The cats understand English?" The question comes filled with a sense of awe, seeming to be easily impressed or otherwise amazed at the intelligence of the animals. "I mean, of course they would… they live in a library. Babel," he notes after a pause to think about it and notes it self-chidingly. Duh.

Evie's logic shifts his attention to the girl, then back to Iris, watching the woman's reaction to it. Makes sense, doesn't it?

“That’s right,” Odessa agrees with Evie. “We’re not from around here. These aren’t the Ruizes you know.” It’s perhaps a little bold of her to assume that the Lynette and Mateo of this world were together, especially after the last one, but she doesn’t think it’s too bold.

“It’s nice to meet you, Iris.” One hand reaches out, beckoning for her niece to come to her side. “The library is quite impressive.”

"Sweet books. Where are the ones on solar activity?" Ever getting to the meat of what she wants Isa leans forward and smiles at the woman, the smile seems dead but she tries still. "This place is fucking huge," echoing Odessa's sentiments while she slides the flask into Shaw's hand and leans against him for a moment as they observe how Evie would explain who they are.

"They aren't her mami and papi no," good job Evie. "And some.." mouth twists into an uncomfortable line and she leans back.

"We need to get home, charting solar activity could be of use." Among other things, a stare at Lynette and Mateo. Evie started it!

“Huh?” Iris responds in a confused tone, that sounds really adorable when she does it, trying to figure out what strange words they were speaking. “Of course they’re not my parents. My parents were back home when the waters came in and…” she trails off. No, that didn’t seem right. Especially not as people add to it. She was very confused, tilting her head to the side in a way that made her hair fall in places that they shouldn’t have been. One lock rests over her nose, before there’s suddenly a shadow standing in the doorway.

“What’s going on here?” The voice is familiar to at least two of them. But the President’s wife had never dressed like this before. All garbed in dark leather, pants, a long jacket, dark hair framing her face, electric blue eyes glowing under the surface.

… “Steve?” Ruiz breaths, in shock. He’d attempted to find Steve in every world they had been in. She had not existed, as far as he could tell. He didn’t understand why. But he’d also told Lynette many a time about his first wife’s best friend, the woman who married them. As it often did when emotional, his hand sparks.

Steve just looks at him with a raised eyebrow, either at the name, or the spark, but doesn’t get to say anything because there’s an excited sound in the Librarian’s voice. “Oh no, this is Nicole. She’s… security here.”

The leather clad woman even has a baton at her side, which, in all honesty, looked like a cattle prod. And possibly was the way she would use it from the lightning running in her eyes.

The flask slipped into his hand finds its way to Shaw's mouth as he takes a quick sip of the contents. A pause, and he starts to take a longer drink… until Steve appears. Shaw's brows just about jump off his forehead for her appearance, coupled with a choke on the liquor. He's lucky none of it comes out in a spraying spit-take. The flask is carefully handed back to Isa, as he no longer trusts himself in that regard.

"W-why are you dressed like that?" Shaw can't help himself but to ask, only to spot the baton in the darkly-clad woman's hand. He shrinks back from the blunt weapon like a caged dog, dark eyes rounded and staring, and swallows dryly again.

The arrival of security elicits a wince from the wavy-haired blonde. The last thing they need is to get thrown out of this place after they’ve only just arrived. While she can’t speak for the others, she’s looking forward to checking out a book or two.

“One of these shelves toppled on your friend here,” Odessa gestures to Iris casually. “We just dug her out and were introducing ourselves.” No harm intended. Please keep the scary baton stowed.

The name Steve gets Lynette's attention. Her husband has told her a lot about the woman who was so close to them. She lifts her eyebrows when the name is corrected. Ruiz's hunt for her has been a long one. She doesn't think he's got it wrong, especially with the way this woman's eyes glow, but this world is a strange one so she refrains from commenting.

However, there is a moment where she is definitely checking Nicole out. Ruiz once told her he suspected they could have been a lot closer.

She turns to look at Ruiz, expression amused but also approving of the other Lynette's taste.

It's Odessa who brings her back around to the now. "Yes, we were drawn by the noise. We didn't mean to alarm anyone."

Evie tilts her head, the security officer getting the girl's attention in a whole other way. A certain amount of admiration sparkles in those young eyes. Her Zorro costume might need updating.

“Why are you dressed like that?” is the leather clad woman’s counter response, giving him and up and down look that seemed to take in just about every flaw in his own attire. But no, this woman would not have been mistaken for the First Lady. Except for maybe on Halloween.

As they explain the situation, Nicole flashes the rumpled woman a look that seems to just scream why am I not surprised. Which she doesn’t even need to say. The librarian makes hand gestures at the shelf, “Oh this kind of thing happens all the time. It wasn’t even the whole bookshelf. Not even bruised,” though considering how they found her that was probably a lie. Plastic book bindings weren’t exactly light.

In a almost deadpan voice, the security adds, “She even has a name for it.”

“A bookslide!”

“Right. Well, you should … “ that pause seemed to have been an intended space for a curse which she cut off as she glanced down at the miniature person that happened to be there. “ … clean it up before Stef or Sumi show up,” the woman adds, her eyes no longer glowing as she looks between the group one by one, her eyes stopping on Lynette. There might be some mutual appreciation going on there, but then suddenly…

“This is an eventful day,” a raspy voice says from the door. Dressed in loose light clothes, the woman who some of them knew as Gillian Childs looked quite different. Even in the world Odessa and Lynette came from she’d had an air of sadness about her, like she constantly waited for something that would never come. This one looked as if she had found it, or it had found her. Or perhaps she’d somehow learned to stop waiting. She looked content, even amused as he eyes dropped onto said bookslide. But her eyes freeze when they fall on the Ruizes, an outright gasp to her words, “I thought you were dead.”

“I did too!” Iris pipes in. “I mean, I figured so with what happened and they still might be I’m kind of confused about what they were saying before they were talking about strange things and not being my parents and— maybe I hit my head harder than I thought.”

While Ruiz was still looking anxiously at the woman not named Steve he does catch onto something said there. “What happened?”

A bookslide has Evie laughing, although she covers her mouth with both hands like she might think she's not supposed to laugh. To make up for it, she moves over to help clean up, one book at a time. Her efforts are also not alphabetical or by author last name or any sort of system at all. But she seems proud of herself all the same.

"I'm sorry," Lynette says, to Nicole, "you look like someone we used to know." We comes easily, even if it wasn't her who knew her. Better than explaining everything right here over the avalanche. She comes over to her daughter, to help clean up, but the new voice keeps her from moving more than a book or two. She looks at Stef, blinking but managing not to call her by the name she knows her by. Considering. "We've been getting that a lot," she says, as far as them being dead. "There's a lot to explain, if you already knew us."

The counter-scrutiny from Steve regarding his own dresscode has Shaw glancing down at himself, trying to figure out why indeed. Thus caught up in that thought, he doesn't manage an answer. But, his attention snaps back up with the appearance of Gillian. One would think the sight of those perished in other worlds appearing hale and hearty in the current one is old hat by now, but for Shaw, there are other thoughts tied in invisible strings of fate.

Gillian Childs happens to be remembered with stuck within a large cage, surrounded by screams and fire, and then disappearing a certain teleporting huntress. Or, a face on a television screen reporting of a bomb. Or, by overheard stories told by a Resistance. And now here she is again.

Slipping closer to Isa, Shaw stares a little longer at the newest arrival, studying. "It's her," he asides to his fiance as if his voice were inaudible to the others.

Odessa’s attention is captured by the arrival of this world’s version of Gillian Childs. Her heart aches in her chest at the sight of her friend’s face. She should have been there that night. She should have been there to protect her friends.

There’s some solace in the fact that she’s alive here, and not a prisoner like the Gillian in the domed city. Odessa offers a small smile and lifts her hand to wave in silent greeting, allowing the others to explain their situation.

Isabelle's eyes widen at the multiple familiar faces coming into view and she looks over to Shahid, "It is them." Steve.. Gillian.. "Hey do you know Magnes?" It's a quiet question and the answer might amuse her. Were they really all that connected through the timelines? The pyrokinetic hadn't seen Shahid and she together in any other world, there's a soft frown as she thinks about if they are the only versions of themselves that were dating, their counterparts must be stupid.

“You mean the old hermit who talks to himself a lot?” Iris responds with a surprised start, while Nic raises an eyebrow at the various reactions. Her gaze softens a little at the laughing child, before it hardens again as she frowns at Lynette and Mateo specifically. Even the appearance of “Gillian” didn’t seem to remove the perpetual tension in her jaw and shoulders.

A moment later, not-Gillian speaks up. Her voice is different than the other Gillians that they had met, closer to the one who did interviews and television spots in the timeline that Pinehearst had been active. Lynette’s native timeline. The one in Isa and Shaw’s had had a darker, huskier voice. This one seems gentle really. But at the same time, careful. “I think they mean the younger one whom I just met upstairs,” Stef responds. “I’ll explain later. We have some interesting guests— they are welcome, all of you are, and safe, you have my word, but Nic, go make sure our regulars remember the rules.”

Cause the way certain things went when she ran into Magnes, she does not imagine that rumors will stay under wraps for very long. Violence was prohibited, but it did happen. Especially with some people in the world’s views of those with gifts.

“Let’s sit. I think we have a few things to talk about.”


Left Tower


ff_asi_icon.gif aura_icon.gif bf_cassandra_icon.gif elisabeth_icon4.gif ff_stef_icon.gif ff_sumi_icon.gif


The Ink


What this small group of visitors find themselves in is not like the rest of the library. The upper levels of the left tower has some uniqueness to it. For starters, there’s been fewer cats as they move along this floor. One wanders the hall with a water beetle that had made it inside between teeth, dragging it off somewhere. Vermin explain the presence of cats, but this area also has another thing more than the rest. Electricity. There’s insulated wires running along the interior and the soft buzz of computers. Not personal computers, but servers. The floor is also colder than the others, especially at this time of year.

The data center it had been called. Some of the doors were closed and labeled ‘No Guests Beyond This Point’ but not the ones they are in, where there’s a small row of personal computers, monitors, the all too familiar flickering of electronics. Though thankfully these do not look menacing.

The Japanese woman from the entrance stands near a table desk, also made of some kind of plastic, speaking to another woman. “Someone brought this in, said it was out of a skyrise up in Albany. I was hoping it would be salvageable.” She nods her head toward the table, where a desktop sits, some pieces laid out in various places. It’s not plugged in to whatever generators this building uses.

Standing next to the greeter is a different Japanese woman, more deeply tanned from days at sea, her dark hair gathered back in a messy bun. Asi lets out a long sigh as she looks over the gathered pieces, rubbing the back of her neck while scanning and taking notes about the state of the parts. As promising as the many pieces looked together, if even one bit was missing, or if something had internal damage…

"Any idea how protected from the elements it was?"

The sigh expelled, her hand swings back down by her side, notably missing an ink stamp on the back of her wrist.

"Wakkanai ne. I'll do my best, Sumi-chan, but I don't want to get your hopes up." Despite the casual interjection of Japanese, her own voice is inflected with all the confidence of a native or near-native speaker, though her accent certainly isn't American. Asi shakes her head, leaning over the table to carefully sift through the components.

An appraising look is fixed on the motherboard inside the tower while she holds the hard drive delicately in her hand, expression gradually growing more distant. For all her skepticism only a few moments before, she suddenly decides with clarity in her eyes, "Honestly, though? I think we can make this work."

Tongue smirching off the roof of her mouth, she adds, her voice carrying more than she means for it to, "Might have to make a trip down to Lowe's, depending, but we'll make this work." Even if Asi couldn't bring the machine to life on her own, a certain matter manipulator's infectious optimism might.

She slides a glance to Sumi, shrugging one shoulder and lifting her hand to indicate not worrying about the cost of that. The opportunity here was paying for itself. She was in need of a project.

The boat ride to the towers jutting above the waves was like something out of a bad 90’s movie starring Kevin Costner. From a distance, one would think that the city was enormous, extending above the horizon by sheer size, but as the boats drew closer, the familiar skyline of New York came into view - but only the top part. Cassandra was situated near one of the portholes as they approached, watching in wonder as the buildings grew in size, easily sliding back into her role as Aurora’s babysitter, as much for her sanity as the little girl's.

Her backpack was cinched tight around her shoulders and clipped across her chest. There really wasn't time for her to learn exactly what was /in/ this thing aside from Eve’s jar of dirt, the seer simply telling her that what was inside would be helpful, if not exactly useful on the other side of the portal. The one certainty? They are temporary guests here and should be on their best behavior.

On the boat Cassandra managed to find a replacement for her boot in a pile of stuff near one of the bulkheads - a mismatched boot that was two sizes too big. Still, beggars can't be choosers, but it kept her foot mostly dry. Hopefully she can offer something to barter - although shoes may be a tall order.

Those shoes had been put to the side to dry and now Cassandra is enjoying the feel of dry socks for the first time since they landed. She's made her way to the computer lab that they've been given access to, her backpack still with her, along with a tabby kitten that's been mounted on her shoulder like a furry parrot. A tabby that has decided that being carried around and occasionally scratched under the chin and behind the ears by this new person is the best thing in the world.

Standing quietly, Cassandra watches as the salvaged computer and the merits of saving it are debated, although her brows do lift at the mention of a Lowe's around here, rubbing the back of her hand idly where the ink has subsumed into her skin.

“A trip to Lowe's? Aren't they across the river in Jersey and a dozen fathoms deep?”

Aurora's just as fascinated and able to be excited about the things they find here as she was in the Wasteland. She seems resilient in ways that Elisabeth has confided to Cassandra blow her mind… part of her is still waiting for the child to seriously just sit down and refuse to go one more step along the insane route that they've tread. A trip to a library sent the little girl into paroxysms of squeeing delight, and now surrounded by books and cats, she is every bit the intrepid explorer of their newest environs, apparently in her own personal version of heaven.

Elisabeth's got a close eye and an even closer ear as they makes their way through the building, but she lets the girl dart to and fro as she likes for the moment — there seems no real chance of a threat here. "You have …. are your computers actually all interconnected?" She marvels that there's electricity in the first place, but computers that could house data they might be able to use? Jackpot! Well… probably not, but still exciting! "What kind of data have you been able to salvage and keep safe here?"

And she can't help the quick snort of amusement at the idea of a visit to Lowe's… after all, she saw the bad '90s movie! On some level, she keeps expecting to see Smokers or some other insane thing.

The short haired woman just nods thoughtfully, looking back at the possibly useless desktop. “They said it was three stories above water and in the interior, but we know how humidity is.” They had built specific systems in this building to keep the humidity down, for the server room especially. There were still issues, but they tended to catch them quickly enough. “We do have a standing agreement with Lowes,” she adds on, with a small nod, because they did.

Much of the patchwork had been supplied by Lowe and her people. But it’s the newcomers that gain the dark eye’d woman’s gaze after a moment. She didn’t seem surprised as if a part of her sensed them coming, but her gaze seems to lighten at the sight of the child. They did get children at times. Entire boatloads. But a child always garnered a different kind of emotion. Though the girl too had gotten a stamp.

“They are connected, though not very powerful. We don’t have the energy for that.” Even if they had managed to get someone to help with the power systems. “Our energy is solar, supplemented by a few generators.” That would explain why they had such lighting, probably. Lighting and plumbing, though no one wanted to think where the waste went to when it was flushed. (It was the same place it always went to, really, just now the ocean was much closer.) “We have digital archives, mostly. The founder had a hard disk copy of Project Gutenberg. Fifty seven thousand books that were public record when the flood happened, saved from permanent loss.” Classic stories, mostly.

But enough to found a library. “Sometimes people find more, we scan any books that people are able to find, too. Asi-san helps a lot with that.”

The aforementioned Asi inclines her head slightly, lips firmed in a not-quite smile, but not a frown either. She looks the two over warily, a certain discomfort in her expression. She's not quite been outed, but she's never certain about strangers. And these didn't even know what Lowe's was.

"Scanning, reprinting, repurposing…" Asi tags on to Sumi's statement, carefully placing the hard drive back down with the rest of the components laid out. "Information is power, it's important it's safeguarded."

And with that, she shifts a glance to the child. Her expression is a foil to Sumi's. If the woman has a soft spot for children at all, it's when they're not danger-close to the largest known reservoir of information left in the world.

"Where've you come up from?" she asks absently, looking back to the two women. "Marlowe's place is well-known around here, so you must be new."

Cassandra crooks a finger at Aurora, wiggling hello before the little kitten on her shoulder clambers down her arm to perch in her palm, letting out a plaintive meow, begging the little girl to show some attention. “Down you go.” she says, letting the kitten deftly land on the floor, it’s little tail waving momentarily before it runs over to perch on Aurora’s shoes, looking up at her for a second, leaving Cassandra and Elisabeth to answer the question at hand.

“Well…” Cassandra starts, glancing to Liz before she continues. “There’s a story there. A pretty long and complicated one, too, connected to Eve….or Mad Eve, as you know her here, from what I understand. Before that, though, I think I have something for you, as odd as that probably sounds.” She pulls one arm free from the patched backpack she’s got around her shoulders and swings it around in front, unzipping one pocket and rummaging around inside. There are no guns in there - she didn’t have one when she jumped through the gate, although she wanted one, but just in case there’s any concern, her movements are slow and telegraphed. No sudden blaze of gunfire coming from this brunette.

“I’m not exactly sure what it is, but Eve…our Eve…gave this to me to deliver here.” She doesn’t elaborate on what she meant by “Our Eve,” but might if the conversation goes that way. It’s not anything electrical that she knows about, although it might be, but when she finds what she’s searching for at the bottom, rummaging through several other equally well-wrapped packages. Finally, she slowly pulls it out. It’s a package about the thickness and shape of a couple of bricks laid next to each other, wrapped in thick plastic and gaffer tape. There’s some weight to the package, too, but not brick-type weight, and on the outside, written in black Sharpie with what seems to be glitter and beads glued on, is the single word “Library.” It’s wordlessly offered to the two ladies.

Elisabeth, for her part, looks rather startled to find out that Cassandra has a package for the library. Seriously? She eyes her companion. "Holy shit, how'd you manage to keep the ocean from devouring those?" she asks, startled. She's actually amused — Cassandra's magical backpack has had all kinds of interesting bits and bobs show up over the course of their time here so far. Never know what's going to come out of it next, it's like Mary Poppins's carpet bag!

She tips her head to make sure she can see Aurora, who is down on the floor surrounded by several small feline critters and loving every moment of it, and then turns her blue eyes back to the women who run the archive of books. "That's amazing," she compliments them. "So much literature and information lost to the flood, but what you're doing here is… everything." Because without a history, we would lose all that was once known. "We're very new," she agrees simply. "Still trying to get our sea legs under us."

“There was still a lot lost,” Sumi responds quietly, sadly, but also looking as if she understands there would be a lot less if they hadn’t put the effort to preserve what they had. There was a lot going on behind the scenes, plans to make this life just a little bit better. But it would take time. Time that they had as long as they were alive. At the mention of Eve, her head bobs, because yes, they know Eve quite well at the library, though she doesn’t stop by quite as often as some people. “But we all do what we can.”

To survive, to preserve. And by we she seems to be including all of them. Especially since children were a start.

The gift is accepted with a bow, turning the familiar weight over in her hands before setting it down on the table, a little toward Asi.

“If you’d like to keep the kitten you may, little one. We always have more than we need,” she continues, moving closer to the young girl and bending down. Her voice looks black. But the beautiful slick black, rather than the scary one. The shiny black that seems iridescent and shimmering, like the feathers of a bird that twists under the light of the sun.

She doesn’t seem inclined to question where they came from. The ocean goes in all directions, now, there are likely colonies in many directions.

The 'our Eve' comment draws a look of something like amusement from Asi. Did different communities all have their 'own Eves'? Strange seers with personality quirks? "Well, tell 'your Eve' thank you when you see her. Donations are…" She trails off as she places her hand on the gift, starting to lift it. It's a little heavier than she thought it would be.

Well, that was interesting.

A glance is given to the well-wrapped package before her attention shifts visibly back to the women who came bearing the gift. "Was there something you were looking for here?"

Cassandra isn't unused to being under a microscope. In her time in Colorado, the breakthroughs she helped reveal were done under the piercing, watchful gaze of Erika Kravid, and she has watched Elisabeth at work, so extreme attention rolls off her like water from a duck’s back. Asi’s gaze isn't that uncomfortable, but they are on their best behavior. “Seeing our Eve again would take an act of god, some major backtracking, a few environmental suits and the laws of nature to be broken a few more times. So, if I could, I'd thank her a thousand times over, but it's probably never going to happen again. That path is closed to us now.”

She looks to Liz for a second before turning her attention back to the two ladies in charge of this place. “I was exploring. Trying to find a way to figure out where we were and what might be left above the water. Before I came here I was a researcher. I used my ability to see into the past, to find out things that were hidden or lost. I was hoping I could help you out with something, in exchange for our time here with you.” Cassandra just outed herself, it seems, in camaraderie with Asi.

Elisabeth listens to them with her eye tunes to her daughter, and she can't help but grin a little at the offer. Before she can think of any answer with regard to the kitten, Aurora looks up from where she's gleefully petting all the cats and answers in a more solemn tone than one would expect of a 6-year-old, "No, thank you. When we leave, it would get hurt."

The reply brings a lump to Elisabeth's throat and she has to turn her back toward Aura so the child can't see the reaction. She looks rather like she just got punched in the stomach. What is she doing to this child?

She fights to swallow all traces of her reaction — probably failing miserably — and clears her throat. "Besides the children's section I'm hoping you have," she says in a vaguely strangled voice, "I was hoping you might have a good history section. Mostly twentieth century. So much has been lost and I want to be able to teach Aurora about the world." If they wind up remaining, she has a great curiosity about some very specific differences from her own world.

The more that is said about ‘their Eve’ the more interested Sumi seems to look, tilting her head to the side as if trying to decrypt the words that are said. She can tell there’s a story missing, as she straightens back up, offering a parting smile to the girl and focusing on the topic she can understand and help with first. “We have both. The children section is on the thirty-six thru thirty-eighth floor of the center tower— which is the third thru fifth floor up.” The numbering of the floors is easier to remember, especially since there’s always the threat of needing to shift upward a floor or two. The waters haven’t risen for years. “It even contains our only picture books— our printing process doesn’t handle pictures well. But there’s plenty to keep a young one entertained.”

They did like their children visitors, as rare as they were. All three of the librarians had a soft spot for children.

“As for world history— that’s a little more complicated. We do have some, though. The computer on the end has most of what we managed to find. Salvaging newspapers hasn’t been easy. We do have encyclopedias and some history books, in the this tower. Another floor up. Some of them were close to up-to-date, though I can’t promise they’ll be an interesting read.” Most people didn’t want to look at history books. Most people knew what had happened.

And then her dark eyes move back toward Cassandra, who had given the gift that she seems to claim was from Eve, then back toward Liz again. Trying to put together what they’ve both said just compounds the confusion. “We know of Eve. You could even call her a close friend of the Library.” Which makes the their Eve extra confusing, compounded by how she’s apparently impossible to get back to. “As far as I know she was well less than a week ago. She’s not exactly the quiet type on the radio.” Which they do have. “I will warn, it is generally dangerous to talk about abilities with strangers. The wrong person could end badly for you. All of you, really.”

It’s not too different from the warnings they had before, likely.

“This is not the kind of company that would do such.” And with that, she adds a question, “How is it that you can see the past?”

Somewhere in the middle of the strangers' answering, Asi shares a glance with Sumi. There's a lot in the undercurrent of their words, after all. The honesty in them, however partial, is intriguing enough her expression becomes less critical.

The comment about Eve being well and on the radio doesn't quite earn a wince, but she looks off to the side with something of a suppressed smile. Mad Eve was hard to get away from, especially when she was broadcasting. She leans slightly toward Sumi. "Betsu no Eve to omoun. Hoka no ekisha." she asides to the library-worker, fingers lifting off the gift while she speaks.

Who knew why they were using 'their Eve' as a euphemism for whatever seer they were talking about, but some people liked to have their secrets. And whatever their situation, it was clear getting back to their seer wasn't possible. So be it.

Asi emits a tone of agreement when Sumi urges them to keep their abilities to themselves. "You never know when someone will come culling. When the Sentinel will return." There's a hard edge to her voice, despite the well-meaning nature of the comment. She seems like she'd say more, but is all the more eager to distract herself in something else. Aurora's polite, mature reply to being offered the kitten earns her a second look and something like a nod of approval, and Elisabeth's explanation the ghost of a smile. More toward the history section than the children's one. "That's wonderful." Asi remarks in approval. "The younger you start, the better."

At which point she turns her attention back to Cassandra, patient for the explanation of her ability. Her interest isn't exactly Library-related, but depending on what the woman could reveal, she has her own bit of lost information needing found.

Cassandra rests a hand on Liz’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, standing close to the taller woman in a show of solidarity. Aurora’s seen things and experienced events that a five year old should never have to, and has taken it as well as could be expected in either Cassandra or Liz’s wildest dreams. The way she responds to new and different events with the stoicism of a front-line trooper makes Cassandra think that, out of all of them, Aurora will make it through this the best of all.

The warnings were given but, at the time, they were soaked through to the bone in the middle of the ocean, so it’s not entirely out of the question that they were missed, glossed over, or simply ignored over the sound of shivering and waves against the hull of the boat. “Sorry.” She responds lamely, rubbing her right hand over her left arm, elbow locked, looking away sheepishly as she apologizes. “Even after everything we’ve been through, I still end up falling back to old habits. It’s true what they say about them dying hard, I guess.”

She looks up to Sumi and Asi. “My ability.” She states again. “Allows me to see the threads of the past attached to objects or areas and project them to the surrounding area. It’s….kind of like being in the middle of a play that you can’t interact with. Before, I used it to research technology with a company back home, but now it’s more for comfort…and storytelling, in the case of Aurora.” She smiles, glancing over to the little girl. “Showing her scenes from the past, making up tales about what we’re seeing. Wondering what the people’s lives were like before. Good things for a child to see.”

Elisabeth slants a small, vaguely ill-looking smile at Cassandra and puts her hand up to cover the one on her shoulder momentarily while she reorients her inner walls. It's not the first time Aurora has shown the maturity of a much older child… her baby had to grow up awfully fast once they hit the Wasteland. But she's also still a 6-year-old little girl, and when Cassandra mentions stories, her whole face lights up.

"It's primal!" Aurora cries, bounding to her feet and sending cats scattering. "You can walk around in them and you can't touch nothing, but it's like they're really there! And you can watch the whole thing and stop and rewind, just like on TV!"

Elisabeth's expression eases visibly when the little girl bounces up and exuberantly starts describing storytime. She pulls in a slow breath and says quietly to the two librarians, "As may be obvious at this point… we're from somewhere a lot farther away than you can really imagine. Part of why we're here is to learn what we need to know to be able to not get ourselves lynched."

At the whispered speculation from the other woman, Sumi nods carefully, with a soft, “Naruhodo.” It certainly made more sense than anything else and made the mention of hazmat suits even understood. There were, after all, some places where nuclear power plants had not been shut down in time, or secured, and the flood had caused radiation leakage as well. Some who sailed into those zones never sailed out. It kept scavengers on their toes as much as pirates did.

And it also explained some other things. Not knowing about this library, not knowing about Lowes. It explained enough. “We do have some… artifacts. But most of what is in the library has been reprinted and rebinded, so I don’t imagine it has much in the way of history.” It wouldn’t make for an interesting viewing for the young child, probably. “We spent the better part of four years getting it up and running before we opened to the public.” Asi knew much of this, but a newcomer would not. The Library itself had only been open to outsiders for nearly a year now, though they had used labor from the Pelago as well. “We do have some half-destroyed books among the artifacts. Maybe you could help us retrieve the text using what you can do…” It’s a thought, one she’s willing to attempt.

“I will have to ask Stef and Iris. We don’t usually let people in to see the originals, but if we can fill in some holes in copies, it would certainly be good.”

Then she looks back toward Liz, tilting her head again. Both of the women were obviously from far away, even if Sumi had only the slightest accent. How far could someone be that those from the other side of the world could not imagine. Though she could also be exaggerating. “Lynching is unlikely, though exile is a definite worry until you integrate into the area, if they believe you a liability. Everyone here has lost more than they would like, as I am sure you have as well.”

The brown-haired seer finds herself blushing a little at the enthusiasm that Aurora puts out about her ability, nervously brushing her hair back behind her ears, glancing to the floor with a small smile. “Where I came from, it wasn’t that much of a liability. It wasn’t anything that could really be used to hurt someone, and I was really able to help a lot of people with finding out things from the past that they wouldn’t have normally been able to find out…” She lets out a soft sigh, looking back over to Liz, letting the silence linger for a second. She was the reason that Kravid was able to complete the gate in her world, and it weighs heavily on her. A moment later, and she turns to Asi and Sumi.

This is more like it - getting back into what she can do. “The original things would be best to get impressions off of, if I could. I may not be able to get you a full print out of the text or anything like that, but if you have someone there to write it out or type it down while the person is reading it, you should be able to get some portions that were destroyed.” She looks to Liz again before continuing. “If you’d like, I can give you a demonstration, or even help you with a book, free of charge.” So much is left unsaid there. She’s hoping that the unstated implication of her offering to help for free to start, with the expectation that eventually bartering for services to help her and her friends would be on the table. They’re only paid up for a couple of days from what she remembers, and since they arrived with their backpacks and little else, bartering what they have left would quickly move them into the negatives. At least it seems that she knows, even here, her ability has a little value.

Clearing her throat, now that Aurora is back to her happy, sunshiney self, Elisabeth smiles. "Let's start with the kids' stuff," she grins, holding out a hand to the little girl. "We'll find some new storybooks and stuff, okay?"

Enthusiastically bouncing on the balls of her feet, the small child is the epitome of exuberant good spirits. "How many books can we have from the library, Mummy?" Her understanding of what a library is comes from a world very different than this one — a world where the library was a weekly visit that resulted in a tote bag full of books to take home.

At the questions, Elisabeth actually pauses and looks… nonplussed. Looking to the librarians, she asks, "I… didn't think to ask, do you actually allow books to be checked out?" It didn't occur to her until just this moment that the reason they have a couple of days here might be that they can't actually take the books anywhere — which, in hindsight, would make a hell of a lot of sense.

The two strangers and the child were growing more and more interesting. Asi shifts her weight, hand leaving the gift behind on the table. Cassandra's offer to prove her gift for free likely wouldn't be taken advantage of, she knows, but she leaves that tidbit for Sumi to address.

Aurora, polite as she is, gets a small smile in response to her and Elisabeth's shared question. "The books stay here. It took a lot of work to make them the way they are, the librarians wouldn't risk having that work lost." Asi slowly slides a hand into the pocket of her coveralls while she speaks. "So long as you respect the books and are willing to pitch in… Well, some visitors practically live here."

She tilts her head toward Cassandra in an acknowledgement of what she'd explained. "There's something I'd pay you to look at in private, when you get the time." It's accompanied by a loose wave of her free hand to indicate the whole area. "You can find me around. Here, the Lowe's community, Mad Eve's Forthright, but if I happen to be traveling when you're ready… At worst, call out over the radio you seek 'Asi' and someone will pass the message along when I get back."

“By old world standards, this Library is mostly a museum or an old research library. While a few who bring us goods and services may be allowed to buy a book, it is not normal practice.” Sumi answers what she considers the most important question first. She left out some of the other reasons why someone might be allowed to take a book, they usually were given a free copy of a book of their choice if they brought one the library did not have yet. “We donate some to the community at times, as well, but a vast majority of the books you will see can never leave the building.”

And the way she said that might hint to the rumor they had heard when the Ferry brought them over— that those who tried to steal a book found the book useless unreadable rubbish barely worth more than paper to wipe their backside with. The boat handler hadn’t been the most congenial. Even if he had paid for all of them for a few days.

“It’s possible, if what your friend proposes works, that you could earn more than a few books to take with you when you leave.” If it works. There’s a pause, before she moves a few steps away, pulling down one of a stack of plastic bound books. All the books in the library were bound that way, it would seem. She carried it to the rows of tables and chairs, set it down until it stood open. She pushed her palm against the blank white page, and… black liquid seemed to flow out from under her sleeve unto the page. When she took her hand away, it spread out into fine lines of letters.

Since Cassandra had shared her secret, the woman whose name was the Japanese word for Ink seemed willing to share hers. “I can make a copy as long as I can see it for a few moments. So we will be able to make use of your ability.” The black ink on the page looks a lot like the stamp that had been placed on all of their skins when they entered.

Elisabeth stares… "Oh my God… that's amazing." She's seen a lot of things in her travels, but never something quite like that. She looks up at the woman who takes care of the place and grins. "I now understand why thievery does no one a lick of good… that is epic." For a woman who has seen so much to still have such a sense of wonder might seem strange, but Liz does.

Aurora pulls away and, like most children, she has no sense of decorum as she bolts to the table and peers intently at the writing that was just created. She has awe in her eyes. "Primal!" she squawks, copying the teens who now travel with them. "Are you bweeding? Do you make the ink??" she demandes excitedly. "Or is the ink you? Does it hurt?" She looks up with hazel eyes bright with a million questions.

Cassandra, for a moment, is speechless, watching in wonder as the ink bleeds across the page, filling in words and images as if they were there, but hidden. “Miss Sumi, I think you and I will get along just perfectly, then. Not having to write it out…” She shakes her head in wonder. “This will be wonderfully quick. The amount of text that we might be able to rediscover will fill several shelves at least.

Her attention then hesitantly moves from the newly-formed book to Asi. “Of course.” she replies, straightening. “Whenever you need me, I should be available…because it’s not like I’ve really got anywhere to run off to at this point, right?”

That was the second time that Aurora had used that word to describe something she found impressive, and Asi smiles to herself as she hears it again from her. With Cassandra's skill described, and Sumi's demonstrated, it makes her ache for the times when she could more freely use her own ability. Without meaning to, her face turns toward the direction of the server room, toward the invisible feeling it outputs. She takes solace in its hum. Not all opportunities for her ability were lost, after all.

The polite smile is still there when she looks away, recentered on the moment before them all. "Once the books are reformed, we can add them to the digital archive as well. I'll be happy for the work." For the purpose. For being able to bring nearly-lost knowledge back from the brink. She shifts a look to Cassandra directly, her eyes and nod solemn despite her smile. Not for the stab of self-deprecating humor the reverse-seer said, but at the knowledge of knowing she finally might have an answer to a long-held question.

Often times slang surprises Sumi, because it’s very different from what she grew up with, but she can understand from the inflection. And the little girl’s curious questions earn a small endeared smile. “It’s more complicated than that, but for the most part I just manipulate it. It doesn’t hurt at all.” She even pulls back her sleeves to reveal a black stick resting in a leather sheath against her wrist. An ink stick. It’s solid and dry, and would normally need water to return it to liquid form, but apparently her ability must allow her to liquify instantly. No doubt she has more stashed on her body too, with her very loose fitting dark clothes.

As footsteps approach, she replaces her sleeve and stands back up, turning to look, but it’s no real surprise to her and Asi who walks in. Stef Winters might not have abilities like the others, but that doesn’t make her any less in charge of the Library. No, it had been her idea and her stash of digital files that had started it. She hopes one day to rebuild a kind of internet. At least localnet. One server at a time.

But Liz and Cassandra recognize Stef in a very different way. Gillian Childs had lived many different lives in many different worlds, but the only one who had been named Stef had been a clone that had split off from her during the battle against Arthur in Pinehearst. And Liz might have only heard about that vaguely. Cassandra would have recognized her mostly from being a murdered socialite in Bright who had worked for Pinehearst not long after part of the building had been blown up. Seemingly a terror attack. Liz knew different. But she had also been in the Outer District, assisting them in finding Tamara, working to help them escape. An ally of the resistance. And the one that Eve had thought murdered until she met her again inside the Dome.

There’s visual differences, in the way the women carried themselves. This one seems far more content than any Gillian ever had been. Her eyes fall on the women and the child, and before she can ask any questions Sumi speaks up, “Stef, these kind people have brought a gift for the Library, as well as offered a very interesting service I think you we should take advantage of.” She gestures toward the wrapped gift.

“Nice to meet you,” Stef responds in that familiar husky voice, a voice that, to Aurora, looks deep blue.

Aurora looks toward the new arrival. She's met so many new people, so she's not really afraid of any of them. Of the places they've been, she's rather uncertain. But the people with whom she's stayed or visited, they've all been nice. We don't go see the mean ones that come and shoot at us. Not on purpose. She tips her head, offers the new grown-up a grin, and then goes back to asking Sumi questions. "Did you make all these books? Can you bring the ink back to you? Does it just go on paper? Does it always say what you want it to say? Can it draw pictures?" Each question has the same intensity of curiosity behind it, like every answer is just as important as the others.

Elisabeth is startled to see who "Stef Winters" actually is. She wondered, of course. But the niggle at the back of her head wasn't enough to really bring to mind the fact that there'd been a Gillian clone. There were a lot of them! If she ever knew at least one had an identity of her own and whether that one stuck around, she's forgotten it over the years. "Gi… I'm sorry. Stef? It's nice to meet you." She doesn't offer her hand, more out of habit by now than anything — Virus trained her fast not to just shake hands with people anymore. "Thank you so much for allowing us the privilege of access." Because it is a privilege in a world where the printed word is damn hard to come by.

Seeing familiar faces in this flooded world isn’t something Cassandra was really expecting. After all, through all of her travels across dimensions, she’s never run into a someone she recognized from her world before - not one of her Flood selves and not anyone she’s been hanging around with - so this is a little bit of a surprise. She does find herself staring, just a little, turning to look at Liz, eyes going wide, body language asking the audiokinetic ‘Are you seeing this?’ before she even tries to speak.

“Y..yes. Thank you very much for your hospitality.” Cassandra actually bows at the waist, her hair falling over her face before she straightens, one hand moving to push it back behind her shoulders. And as bows go, it’s terrible. She doesn’t dip far enough down, her back isn’t straight, her movement is too jerky, the time spent down is too long, and she ends up bobbing her head. But at least she tried. “I’ve offered my services on…researching…lost texts that you may have that are incomplete.” She doesn’t elaborate more than that, trusting Sumi and Asi to relate what exactly she can do better than she could.

It's not often Asi speaks up about abilities at all, but Cassandra had just explained hers in detail. Figuring that she's starstruck given her stammering and attempts at a formal greeting, the information is provided for her. "This one says she can show you ghosts of an item. How it used to be, rather than how it is." It's as much as she'll say, not interested in carrying on at length.

She looks to Stef with a short smile, head tipping in a respectful nod to greet her properly. It's always a pleasure to see her around.

There’s a long pause as Stef looks around at the newcomers, but there’s no hint of recognition of anyone. The young girl gets a longer glance, before she’s looking back up at Liz again, taking her as the leader it would seem. “Welcome. It’s good to have you. The Library is a safe place for all.” She looks almost tired suddenly before she adds, “You wouldn’t happen to have come with Magnes?” It seems someone didn’t keep their mouth shut, but instead of adding on that she directs her attention at the one offering her services. “Your services are welcome. I’m glad to have any help in preserving and recovering what was lost. We lost so much in just a handful of years, and in a thousand generations we could never rebuild all of it.”

The ideas, the music, the books. “I wish I could save more, but what we save is less lost.” Lives were lost, of course, billions of them. And she does mourn those as well. But babies continue to be born, people have food and water and shelter, even if it’s hard to find.

But the ideas. The creations. The things that were supposed to live on beyond a person’s life…

Sumi speaks up after a moment, “They also brought a gift,” she nods toward the package, which Stef at least does not seem to hesitate in stepping forward to open. One might think it had been because she was technically the leader of this. But really it had been the culture. No one raised in Japan wanted to be rude opening a gift in front of the giver or others. Not when gifts could be shaming. A bad gift, a gift to great. But Stef was not raised the same way.

She opens the package and produces three books. Hardbacks. In the old style. Not the fancy ones sold in stores, but one that would sit on a library bookshelf. The first one is Life of Pi by Yann Martel, followed by Jaws by Peter Benchley and then ending with So Long And Thanks For All The Fish, by Douglas Adams.

“Someone has a sense of humor,” Stef responds with a grin, before she frowns down at the books. “All three from the Brooklyn Public Library… all three checked out in 2010.”

As she holds it, an envelope falls out. After a moment she opens that too. Inside is a note, folded around five hundred dollar bills. That look rather ragged.

Sorry about not returning these! I really couldn’t! Hope this covers the late fee.

Eve

With a raised eyebrow Stef glances back up at the two.

Elisabeth is just as intrigued by the present as Stef must be. She peers while the other woman goes ahead and opens it, and then she starts laughing softly. "Oh, Eve…" When she looks up at the woman that she knows as Gillian, she nods a little. "We did." The admission is given easily, and Liz's expression holds sympathy for the weariness she sees in the other woman. "And we appreciate the opportunity to have access to so much that has been saved." She has a burning desire to know the differences of this world, even if she's not going to stay here. So having the library and its salvaged plethora of information is a serious benefit, in her eyes.

How Stef trails off at describing what's been lost resonates with Asi, who brings her arms into a fold before her and falls quiet. When Sumi mentions the gift, she sidesteps to allow Stef better access into the package, though stays close enough to have what could be considered first peek at its contents. She hadn't opened the gift not out of courtesy, but out of stubbornness — for as much as she assists the Library, she's doesn't consider herself a part of it, and wouldn't want to cross that self-imposed line by opening something as if she were.

Her head cants slightly to one side as the library books are revealed, and in stellar condition compared to some of their other donations. It takes her a moment, but she lets out an amused breath. When the package is set aside so she can review the envelope, Asi invites herself to picking up Life of Pi, examining its binding, body, and also its library stamps. She misses the look given to the strangers as a result.

After being used as an unwitting pack mule to carry packages across dimensions in a sealed plastic, Cassandra had been just as interested to see what was inside as the rest of them. She could tell they were books, but the titles and the envelope were a surprise to her, and with two more packages, each labeled cryptically with some single word, she'd been keeping her word and not immediately ripping those open, too.

“As long as I'm around, I'll help with any recovery you need. With miss Sumi’s help, of course.” Cassandra slips into old polite habits learned from growing up in the south, daring to offer a smile, trying to get the sour expressions caused by Magnes and his proclivity for conversation to lessen a bit.

Eve. Stef had heard that and she shakes her head, but nods all at the same time. Yes, it would be Eve, if what the man had told her was the truth. She thought it probably was, after everything that had happened since the sky started to change colors. “We’ll be glad to have your assistance,” she says with a nod and a smile, bowing her head a little. “I am Stef. Along with Sumi and Iris, we run the Library.” They have helpers, of course, including Asi and others (some are even cats). “I’ve arranged for rooms for the others you travelled with, the ones I could find, and you can have some as well. Private rooms. And all three of these books are ones we did not have full copies of. I didn’t even know Jaws had a book version.”

That seemed to have amused her a great deal as she carefully picks them up and hands them over to Sumi, who doesn’t seem to understand all the details that Stef does. Maybe she will tell the other librarians later. Maybe she won’t.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need and utilize any of the resources we have available while you are here. If you need us to show you anything in particular, just ask.”

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