A Record from The Library at the Center of Everything
By S. Labrecque
S. Labrecque is a fantasy author. She previously published “The Killer Doll and the Dollmaker,” with Aphelion Webzine and two short stories that can be found on her website: https://slabrecqueauthor.com/ She writes a twice-monthly newsletter and posts on Instagram as she works on publishing her next novel. When she’s not writing, Serena can be found hiking, cuddling her cats, and playing D&D with her family.
In the center of Worlds that Are and Were and Will Be, all Realities and Everything There Ever Was, the Living Dreams of the Dark Gods, the Void Between, and the Mad Flutes that Play in the Darkness until the Great Blackness Swallows All, there is a library.
In the library there is Endless Space with books that contain Everything Ever Written and Everything Ever Known and Unknown, every piece of Knowledge that has crossed a Sentient Mind, Words that Write the Existence of Worlds, Secrets that Must Never Be Known, and a reception desk.
The reception desk is where I am often found. When I’m not restocking shelves, aiding patrons, and organizing Forbidden Knowledge From the Dawn of Time, that is.
And that was where I was when the library’s doors swung open and a human tumbled through. Eternity swirled beyond, and then the doors swung shut.
I froze behind the desk, the Screaming Tome of Abergauz forgotten in my hands. The human threw its hair out of its face, sputtering. I searched it for any sign of abnormality. More than two eyes, dark runic tattoos, general insanity. Instead, I found it was brown-haired, pale-skinned, less than three decades old, and a mortal woman.
In other words, the absolute last thing I would expect entering my library.
I set the Screaming Tome of Abergauz aside and came around the desk.
“Are you injured, ma’am?”
She crawled away from me, panicked, no doubt disoriented by her unexpected arrival. Or maybe it was the way my robe hem trailed into Nothing. It’s hard to tell with humans–the smallest things spook them.
“Wh-Where am I?” the human stammered.
I mulled over how to explain it so her limited brain could understand. It was only later I came upon a good answer, as I have written at the beginning of this record. (If you have forgotten, please read the opening again.)
So I simply said, “Welcome to the Library at the Center of Everything.”
She stared at me, and I feared she’d now lost her ability to speak. Or her mind. In All Existence, no ordinary human had ever stepped a toe into my library. I had no basis to say how it would affect her, but it could not be healthy.
She allowed me to help her stand.
“What is your name, ma’am?” I asked.
“U-Um, Susan. Susan Johnson.”
Susan glanced at the doors behind her, which were closed and blocked the view of Eternity beyond. Thank goodness; Eternity isn’t healthy for mortals.
“I’m afraid you cannot return home that way,” I said. “However did you come to be here?”
“I can’t remember,” she said. “Am I trapped? How am I gonna get home?!”
I quickly raised my hands to calm her.
“I will search the Directory for your home,” I assured her. “The Library is at the Center of Everything, so you can go Anywhere from here.”
“Really? I can go home?”
“Right this way, Miss Susan.”
I led her to my reception desk and retrieved the physical Directory from beneath it. Her eyes went wide. I supposed it was far larger than any human book, even if she could only see its surface dimensions. I directed her to place her hand on the cover. She did so like she expected it to bite her. She couldn’t know that I kept the biting books in other areas.
Once the Directory had scanned her Essence, it flipped to her page. I leaned over and received a burst of smog in the face.
I coughed. “You’re from a dying Earth. What a shame!”
“Are you talking about climate change?” she asked.
“Oh yes. I hate to be rude, but the way your people have drained your planet’s life, torturously slow…” I shuddered. “However, I do apologize for my rudeness. It isn’t my place to comment on others’ planets.”
I closed the Directory.
“Now, if it would be most convenient, I can lead you to the Door that will bring you home.”
Her eyes lit up. Figuratively, not literally. Humans don’t have that capability.
“You can actually take me home?” she cried. “Yeah, totally! Thank you so much!”
“Of course, ma’am. It is my duty to help all patrons here.”
I motioned for her to follow and led her further into the library. Susan kept close behind, making me nervous she’d step on my Nothing trail. She was preoccupied, staring at the Never Ending Shelves and the books.
She caught me watching over my shoulder and blushed. For those unfamiliar with humans: this entails a slight pinking in the facial skin caused by increased blood flow. It’s perfectly natural for their kind.
“Uh, sorry if this is rude,” Susan said. “But what are you?”
“I am the Librarian,” I said.
“No, but, like, what are you?”
“The Librarian. The caretaker of the Library at the Center of Everything, guardian of its Infinite Secrets, and researcher of the Fabric of Universes.”
“That’s… I have no idea what that means.”
“Ah, you were asking about my species,” I said. “Not every Being has a species, Miss Susan. Some merely Are.”
She bit her lip. “So you have no one else like you? That seems kinda… sad.”
“Sad?” I repeated. I was quite taken aback by her words. “My goodness, how could I be sad? I am surrounded by all Knowledge that Ever Was and Ever Will Be and Must Never Be. I have whole Worlds and all of Reality in these pages keeping me company. I suppose if I ever did get lonely, I’d merely open a Book and experience the life of the World Written into its Pages. In truth, I am never alone.”
Proving my point, another patron hurried over, carrying a book in one tentacle. Susan squeaked and ducked behind me.
“Librarian,” the patron called. “I need help finding this book’s Unwritten Prequel.”
“Ah, I’m terribly sorry,” I said. “I’m afraid I’m helping another patron at the moment. If you wait, I will be with you shortly.”
The patron edged around me and its thirteen eyes focused on Susan in interest. I stepped between them again.
“As I said, I apologize immensely,” I repeated. “Would you mind waiting at the front desk?”
“Hm? Oh, yes. Thank you, Librarian.”
I kept Susan behind me until it was gone, at which point I suppressed a sigh. I needed to get this human out of the library, and fast.
#
An excerpt from the diary of Susan Johnson.
It was a total acid trip.
The whole “library” messed with my brain. I couldn’t see the ceiling–I had the gut feeling it literally went on forever. A lot of books were whispering. Totally freaky. I swear, I could feel my Sanity Points dropping the longer I was there. And the Librarian… where do I even start?
They were like Slenderman. Unnaturally tall and thin and stuff. But their black cloak covered everything. And I mean everything. Where their face should’ve been, it was just dark. (Now that I think about it, they looked like Hastur–without the tentacles or ugly yellow.) Not to mention, shadows clung to them, so it was hard for my eyes to focus. Their only body parts I could see were their hands. Normal human hands.
I swear, human hands were more terrifying than something like tentacles or skeletal hands or whatever.
Anyway, the Librarian said in their pleasant, melodic voice, “Terribly sorry about that, Miss Susan.”
“It spoke English,” I whispered.
“Hm? Oh, no. Your brain translated its Language into your native tongue. It’s a common side effect of InterReality Travel that will occur when you interact with non-human Entities. But come, no more delay. I’m sure you’re eager to return home.”
Scary as they were, I was way more scared I could be lost here forever. Especially when terrible tentacled creatures floated around asking for non-existent books. I wanted to, like, cling to their cloak and cry.
“What is this place?” I asked again.
The Librarian sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t know if I can explain it in any sort of satisfying detail. Normal humans can’t survive the Passage Through Eternity to arrive here.”
I hate that I could hear the capitalization when they spoke about stuff like that.
I pointed at my own face. “But I’m normal, and I’m still sane. Uh, aren’t I?”
The Librarian stroked their unseen chin and hummed thoughtfully.
“I suppose you do seem sane. Logically, you must be special in some way. I cannot say how.”
I spread my arms. “I’m just me.”
“Now now, Miss Susan. No one is ‘just’ anything. Even mortals.”
I tried not to be insulted by that last part.
“But I am normal,” I insisted. “I don’t get how I got here? You know what’s insane? This place!”
My voice squeaked. Could you blame me? This was some Lovecraftian shit.
The Librarian said, “I realize this is stressful, Miss Susan, but do try to keep your voice down. We don’t want to disturb the other Beings here. Also, loud sounds of fear agitate Some Things, and I don’t want to clean pustules off the books again.”
I shut my mouth.
#
Susan went quiet behind me, which I supposed was for the best. I only hoped I hadn’t frightened her too severely.
We had almost reached the Doors when the patron from before returned. It was carrying two books now, one of which was chewing on its tentacles.
I raised my hand. “Ah…”
Before I could speak, it waved the books in my face.
“Librarian! I need the Unwritten Prequel for this one, and the Directory said this one’s Infinite Sequels are stocked, but I couldn’t find them on the shelves!”
“Someone may have replaced the Infinite Sequels in the wrong spot,” I explained. “It does happen. If you would merely…”
The patron was greatly riled, and it took me some time to calm them. I assured them I truly would be able to help once my current task was completed.
I sent the patron off again, and returned my attention to the human.
“I’m terribly sorry again, Miss Susan, for the delay…”
Except Susan wasn’t behind me anymore. I checked my hem in case she’d fallen into Nothingness, but it was as empty as always. I searched the nearby shelves. No books had eaten her, and she wasn’t hiding.
I’d lost the human.
#
An excerpt from the diary of Susan Johnson.
Fuck.
Fucking hell.
What was fucking carrying me.
Some kind of blobby, mandibled creature. It didn’t have a book like that other thing. What was it doing in the library if it wasn’t gonna read anything? Fuck, I was losing it. And I was too terrified to scream. I didn’t wanna get covered in pustules!
The thing dropped me and I fell into a shelf, scattering books. The books wheezed when they hit the ground. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch the stupid blob thing.
Instead, I stood and demanded, “What do you want?”
Its one giant eye spun in its socket.
“StRaNgE…” it warbled. “WhAt PoWeR iS tHiS…?”
“I don’t know!” I said. “Just leave me alone, you creep!”
It drew back. I couldn’t believe it. Had that worked?
Then it connected two blob tendrils to my temples. And my mind Opened.
#
I brought up the Directory in my consciousness. As the Librarian, I have access to the Directory and every piece of the library’s Information in my mind. The reception desk’s physical Directory is simply convenient for quick searches.
I located Susan’s current position and hurried after her. She’d moved too far too fast for her short legs–as I feared, she’d been taken. If something happened to her under my care, I’d be beside myself.
I found her in the presence of another Being. They were linked, and its single eye and her two were glowing. Literally, not figuratively, this time. As previously mentioned, this is not natural for human anatomy.
The Being was chanting:
“She who was born under the sign of the ever burning sun”
“Excuse me,” I said. “That human is with me.”
“When her sight is opened to the vault of all known and unknown, she shall be called by the makers of the scarlet skies”
“I must ask you to stop,” I said.
“Their unyielding song she will speak to the people who live among the stones and dirt and water”
“This action is strictly prohibited within the library,” I warned.
“The ending of days and failing of light will be spoken, and all those who listen will be spared, while the deserted shall fall into eternal darkness-”
Enough
The Being and Susan stared at me.
“We do not tolerate rituals, violence, or eating and drinking beverages without lids in the library,” I said. “I must ask you to release Miss Susan.”
The Being drooped, but it detached from her. She tripped and scooted away until she bumped into my legs, poor thing. I slid my hands under her arms and helped her to her feet.
“Are you harmed, Miss Susan?” I asked.
“Um, no,” she said. “I think I’m okay?”
Gently, I tipped her head up so I could study her eyes. My sources claim you can tell if a human is sane through their eyes, as well as their soul’s condition. Neither her mind nor soul seemed damaged, so I was satisfied.
I returned my attention to the Being, who was poking a fallen book with one mandible, radiating guilt. I folded my arms.
“Now,” I said. “You will explain yourself this instant.”
The Being kept its eye on the floor.
“I Sensed great potential in the human,” it said. “She’s a Seer who can communicate with Elder Gods. I-It’s a rare ability among humans, so I had to make sure…”
“You had to do no such thing,” I snapped. “Touching or probing other patrons without their express consent is strictly forbidden. You will apologize to Miss Susan.”
It bowed low. “I’m sorry, Miss Susan.”
“Uh…” Susan said. “…Yeah.”
“You’re suspended from the library for two epochs,” I said. “Beginning now.”
I laid a hand over Susan’s eyes while it was Jettisoned from the library. A human who communicated with Elder Gods could See such things and avoid any ill effects, but even still, I felt responsible to shield her until she was Called.
Once the trouble-maker was gone, I hurried about gathering my forlorn fallen books. They whined and threatened curses, poor things. Susan helped me pick up the quieter ones. Once we were finished, I could put it off no longer. I wrung my hands.
“Oh dear. I yelled in the library.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Susan said, flabbergasted.
“I broke my own rule! Oh how terrible. I must apologize to the books and patrons for disturbing them. Oh dear, I’m certain there will be pustules to clean now.”
Susan patted my elbow. She truly was a kind mortal.
“Yes, I suppose I’ll worry about that later,” I sighed. “Let’s get you home.”
“Please.”
Susan’s Door wasn’t in use when we reached it, so she didn’t have to wait in line. Thank goodness–I don’t think her lifespan was long enough. I’d planned on giving her a pass to cut the line if it came to it, but I was glad it wasn’t necessary. Yet I digress.
Susan frowned at her Door doubtfully. I hurried to assure her it was perfectly safe.
“Hey, Librarian?” she asked. “What did that thing mean when it said I’m a Seer? And this bit about Elder Gods? Like, Vorvadoss or Yaggdytha?”
“No no, those are fictional characters,” I laughed. “However, Elder Gods do exist. Some select humans across Realities to be their Speakers among mortals. Your mind is built to withstand Things Beyond your mortal realm. Congratulations!”
“It’s a good thing?” she asked. I have no idea why she sounded so skeptical.
“But of course!” I said. “For one thing, you’re able to walk through the library without any ill effects on your mind or health.”
“And… when I get home?”
“Your abilities will blossom in time. It’s a miracle! You’re becoming more than you once were.”
“Sounds like puberty,” she muttered.
Susan squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.
“Okay,” she said. “One thing at a time. Send me home.”
I opened the Door, and she stepped through.
#
An excerpt from the diary of Susan Johnson.
That’s where my story ends. For now.
I found myself standing on my front lawn. Far as I could tell, a couple minutes had passed since I was Lost in Time and Space. Way shorter than the actual time I’d spent in that library. But who knows if time exists there? I sure as hell don’t.
(And no, I still don’t remember how I got into the library. Guess that’s gonna remain a mystery. It’s not gonna bug me my whole life or anything.)
What now? I guess I go on with my life. See if I can really talk to Elder Gods. Try to stay out of Arkham Asylum.
What else can I do?
#
Although it is my duty to caretake All That is Known and Unknown, under normal circumstances, it is not for me to add to the library’s catalog.
However, I find myself the primary witness of Seer Susan Johnson’s first encounter with the Great Beyond. As such, I have taken it upon myself to record these events. I hereby avow that everything written in this account is true to the greatest extent of my Infallible Memory. For further authentication, I have included segments from Miss Susan’s diary, with her knowing consent. (Excluding any private information.)
This has been my personal record from the Library at the Center of Everything.
~The Librarian
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