Gunter hid under a toppled bridge on the outskirts of a once tremendous city. The buildings were mostly intact…mostly. He saw two mutants pulling a huge wagon down a chewed up ancient road. The wagon was full of black clad people armed with sticks, makeshift bows, axes, and a handful of guns. The beasts pulling them were something out of pages they used to call “fantasy”. Worlds where the regular rules didn’t apply. They were monstrous and horrible, snorting and squealing, and he had to remind himself they were people once, except they didn’t have a choice but to do what the Blighters said. Most died from exposure to The Wastes. The ones that survived were used as bodyguards and bloodhounds. They became slaves. And they never lived long.
A couple of hounds were on chains. That’s what they called them, but they used to be people too. Their snouts and ears elongated to impossible sizes, and grey gunk slimed from their eyes like sick dogs. Their naked bodies were caked with dirt and their hair was matted. They whined and sniffed around scouting the areas their handlers trekked across. A female a few buildings away stopped and perked up her ears, looking in Gunter’s direction. Grand used to give him quotes, sayings from people long ago, and he remembered one now. “He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.”-Oliver Goldsmith. Gunter had his rifle pointed at her. He was ready to fight and run, the life of a page miner.
He knew this group. They were led by a man named Caesar. How fitting, Gunter thought. He was at the head of the wagon barking orders to the driver who urged the beasts by flaying the backs with a length of barbed wire. He was thin, almost skeletal, with tight jaundiced skin stretched over bones. Caesar was a caricature of the torn land they lived in, dry and angry and void of mirth.
There have always been Blighters. Old pages used to talk about Fascists, Nazis, Communists, Democrats, Republicans, Christians, Atheists…the list of oppressors was nonstop, and it went back as far as people did. He’d read more pages than just about anyone, and Gunter could never figure out why it was so hard to leave people alone. Blighters were no different than their ideological ancestors except for one thing. There was no one to stand against them. The only thing they feared was knowledge. Knowledge came from pages. That’s why they looked to destroy any they came across. If they had their way, The Blighters would burn every page left. Then they would be invincible.
Gunter waited until he couldn’t hear the grinding anymore. The wind blew in the opposite direction they were going, so their hounds couldn’t smell him. He pulled free from the rubble and made his way into the ruined city. He looked around one more time. The people in his village called him paranoid, but they didn’t know. In the wilds and ruins, paranoia was just good thinking.
Gunter carefully unfolded the map from his pack. He was getting closer to the Y marked in red next to a building’s name too smudged to read. He wiggled his fingers in anticipation of handling pages that hadn’t been seen in centuries. He had to trade damn near everything to the caravan man for the map. There were other page miners in the area, but Gunter wasn’t about to let the mother lode to end all slip away. He wanted the man’s hat too, a blue cap with a bill that extended over the eyes. It had a blue star outlined in silver on it. And it reminded him of the old stories where sheriffs kept the peace in their frontier towns. The man said he’d be dead if he had to part with it. They both had a laugh at that.
The merchant said he found the map in the ruins of what used to be called an airport. It was a place where flying machines would pick up and drop off people after traveling great distances. The back of the map told of a long-lost page repository. Gunter knew chasing a legend was risky, but life was about risk. Those willing to risk more got more in return. That’s why Gunter was the best.
He stayed close to places he could easily hide in while he slinked through the remains of automobile husks and common detritus. Gunter read about cars many times and still had trouble believing the words. The past was hard to accept. Everyone had a car. Everyone had food. Everyone had a little device in their pocket that housed the entirety of human experience. And pages were everywhere. “There were so many pages, they used to use them to swat flies.” Grand used to say. Flying machines, abundant food, free knowledge…and they destroyed it.
No one knew for sure how it happened. Legends say there was a great war and their massive bombs killed almost everyone along with the land. Other stories tell of a giant volcano under the ground that erupted, blocking out the sun for years. The goofiest theory was that people made their machines so smart that they became alive and left the planet with all the knowledge stuffed into their computers. Without their automated world, people rioted against each other, and the race to find or burn whatever knowledge remained was on.
Gunter rounded the corner where Caesar crossed. Two smears of mutant shit were ground into the road like chunky paint. To his left he saw a large flat metal box. Gunter had seen enough ruins to know what a fallen sign looked like. The building the sign was presumably attached to a millennium ago was in a crumbled heap, but the area around the sign was conspicuously clear of debris. He approached the sign slowly with his rifle out. As he got closer, he could see a triangle next to a bent rectangle on the flat part of the sign. At first, he didn’t understand it. But readjusting his position, Gunter saw three smaller letters following the shapes. Gunter smiled so big and so fast he almost pulled a muscle in his face. It was a word. And the shapes made up the first letter. Y. Ymca.
Gunter didn’t know who or what Ymca was, but double checking the map confirmed this was the place. The sign was level on the ground. Nothing underneath. That was impossible. Things don’t topple and land completely free from everything else around it. The sign was here by design. “Look for the Y” The man said as he gave Gunter the map. “Y marks the spot.”
He lay on the ground to look under the Ymca sign, but it was so flush with the old pavement no light shone through. He couldn’t even get his fingers under it, not that he would have been able to lift it. It was made of thick plastic and framed in metal. Gunter looked around stepping away, checking and double checking for anyone that might be lingering.
He scoured through the rubble until he found a stout metal pole. If he could wedge it under the sign, maybe he could lever it over. Gunter put the bottom of the pole near the corner of the sign and pushed. He may as well have been pushing one of the ruined buildings for as much as it moved. He set the pole down where he could push it with his feet bracing his body against the husk of an old truck. The scraping sound made him stop immediately, but the sign moved. Not much, maybe the width of a toe. Gunter jumped behind the car and counted to 1000 with his rifle up and his head on a swivel. No one came. He got out and pushed again. Gunter must have lodged something loose because the sign slid easier. The scrapping sound sent a gruesome chill up his backbone.
Under the Ymca sign was a metal circular disk built into the ground. They used to call it a manhole cover. It was slightly rusted, but the clear outline of a cow’s head with comically long horns was in the center of the iron circle. The words “City of Fort Worth” curved along the top edge, which matched the words on the map, but Gunter hadn’t seen any evidence of a fort since he started exploring. On the bottom, it read “Sanitation Sewer”. All things considered; the cover was extremely well preserved.
He was breathing hard. His hands trembled and his heart thrummed. He stepped away and paced for a few minutes, allowing his excitement to ebb. It wouldn’t pay to come all this way, skulk through Caesar’s horde, just to lose his cool. He was on the verge of being the richest man in the world. “Keep it together, G.” He whispered to himself and shook the tremors out of his hands.
He ran his fingers around the rim of the cover. Gunter had gloves on, but he didn’t feel anything that might be a catch or fastener holding the lid in place. He also didn’t notice any tripwires or releases that might indicate a trap. It was still possible, but the upside was so good, he was willing to take the chance. There were two metal pegs set into recesses in the cover that were clearly designed to be gripped and lifted. Gunter threaded his forefingers through each peg and squatted over it. He heaved with his whole body and the cover came off with no resistance other than its weight. He was no expert on archaic manhole cover maintenance, but it made sense that a cover hidden by the sign for who knows how long would have succumbed to the ground and made a tighter seal.
The first thing Gunter noticed was the smell. He expected rankness or foul decay. But the gentle scent of fresh earth wafted up from the hole. He poked his head in and saw iron rungs built directly into the walls of the shaft leading down. It was so dark he could only make out the first few feet. The air was still. Another quote from Grand made its way into his head. “Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more”-William Shakespeare.
He reached into his pack for his miner’s helmet and respirator. After smelling soil, Gunter didn’t think he was in any danger of toxic fumes, but there’s risk and then there’s stupid. He readjusted his rifle and knife for quicker access. Gunter lit the candle on his helmet, cinched his mask and started down the hole. He reached back and pulled the cover shut behind him. Moving the sign left great scratches in the pavement. Anyone paying attention would see the cover plain as day, but there was no point in making it easier by leaving it open.
Even with the candle reflected off the mirror of his helmet, the darkness was heavy. Gunter started down the rungs, slowly. No point in rushing now that he was here, but he had to keep saying it. He reminded himself not to get carried away, but it was damned hard. Every time his mind wandered to the collection that might be waiting, he stuffed the thoughts down. So far, Gunter was his worst enemy down here. He could feel the paper pulling him, and he forced himself to stay calm. “Easy” He chanted like a mantra, “Easy.”
He descended the ladder counting every rung. Twenty, Forty, Sixty, Eighty. Finally at 114 rungs his foot touched something solid. The ground was soft. Not rock or concrete or whatever the wall of the hole was made of. It was earth. He turned in a circle until the light revealed an opening going in one direction. It shone for what looked like fifteen paces then was swallowed by blackness, a tunnel just wide enough for one person leading north. The ground squished quietly with each step of his boots. He moved at the speed plants grow being careful to scan the area for traps or signs of an ambush.
The passage went on for a long way, but it could have been a result of him moving slowly, until the light from his helmet mixed with a faint glow. He pinched the wick of the candle and gave his eyes time to adjust. There was a light coming from ahead and above. As he got closer, moving even more slowly now, he could make out the outline of steps spiraling up. The staircase was void of dirt. The metal was dark but polished to a dull shine. This was not the piecemeal haphazard construction Gunter was used to seeing. The parts looked machined and assembled by someone with experience.
Sweat beaded on his forehead and the lenses of his mask were starting to fog. Gunter decided that the treasure he was looking for was more valuable than his extended health. Besides, someone had built these stairs recently and kept them maintained. Chances were that they didn’t do it breathing poisonous gases. He took off the mask and helmet but stopped when he went to stow them. Gunter couldn’t hear it before because of his respirator, but there was a constant hum with a rhythmic thunk laying on top. It wasn’t a sound he could identify. It was steady and uninterrupted and easy to follow. On instinct, Gunter looked behind him. The page miner part of him was checking to make sure he wasn’t being followed. The want-to-stay-alive part of him was looking to see how easy it would be to escape.
He put his foot on the first step and pushed. The stairs didn’t budge. The sound got louder, and the light grew brighter the higher he climbed. His knees wobbled. Sweat dripped down his neck. Gunter stopped to take off his gloves and dry his palms and face. He kept going, ignoring the inner voice screaming this was a bad idea.
He saw the end of the staircase and turned to look down. He couldn’t see the bottom. The light was bright but soft. He poked his head through the opening and almost tumbled backward. The area was bigger than any room Gunter had seen. Polished stone squares made up the floor in a pattern that alternated in two colors. The stone wasn’t old or broken. There was no dust or grime or evidence of rot. Giant archways held up a ceiling with a painting of men on horses lassoing huge cattle. Great columns of the same polished stone rose into the ceiling like trees. Giant lamps made of sparkling glass hung from the high rafters giving off white light from glowing orbs that should have been flames. The rhythmic sound was almost deafening. The place was clean and cared for.
He would have been impressed with that. Finding a relic like this place would have given him enough to make him very wealthy. The sound is what made him want more. It wouldn’t have been as loud if not for the acoustics of the high ceiling. And Gunter could see what it was coming from. In the center was a machine as clean as the room around it with a spinning drum, and with every revolution something was coming out. Gunter didn’t know if he was crying from the noise or from the unbelievable sight. He approached but didn’t touch it. There was a sweet chemical/bread smell. He thought it was the most beautiful scent in the world. The machine was huge and vibrating and spitting out pages in a neat stack. He hadn’t heard his rifle hit the floor. He didn’t even realize he dropped it until later.
He reached for the stack with a trembling hand. Pulled it back, wiped it on his leg, and reached again. Gunter gasped as soon as his fingers touched the paper. It was warm and he left it there for a second allowing the press to spit more pages on top. He couldn’t help but laugh, but he felt his cheeks moist with tears. He’d never seen print that wasn’t smudged or faded or torn.
The page said:
A Call To Arms
We will hide no more. The time has come for the well-meaning, good spirited, educated people of this blasted landscape to fight back. Our forces are gathered around the world. We are ready. You must help spread the word. We will not let the descendants of the corrupt people of the past hold us down any longer. You must choose a side. Are you on the side of the philosophies that destroyed the world or are you willing to fight to reclaim that which is good? There will be no bystanders. Join us and rid the world of the Blighters. Or stand with them and fall.
The Librarians
The sound quieted to a dull buzz until the only noise left was the ringing in Gunter’s ears. The printer stopped spinning and the flow of pages it birthed ceased. He stared at the paper and read it again. The Librarians. That’s what caretakers of books used to be called.
“It looks like you found what you were looking for.” A voice that sounded like how dust would talk said. Gunter spun and saw Caesar’s tall gaunt frame and sickly sallow face. He had five of his soldiers with him. They all held flaming torches except the fat one with dark skin who was holding Gunter’s rifle in one hand, and the naked hound woman at the end of a chain in the other. She snapped at him with a foaming maw. He was careless. The sound of the printer was so loud, he wouldn’t have heard a thunderstorm coming, but he should have known. Gunter backed into the printing machine and desperately looked around for an escape. The only way out was the way he came.
“It took you long enough.” Caesar said. His eyes fixed on Gunter from under a blue hat with a blue star outlined in silver. He turned up the corners of his mouth in a predatory grin. “Another page miner.” He stroked his chin with a putrescent bony hand. “You lot like to be careful. I guess that’s ok, considering what we had to do to get the information from the man that sold you that map.” He adjusted the hat like a sign of victory. Gunter must have shown shock on his face because Caesar said, “Oh yes. We know all about the map.” He walked around in a small circle, picking up a page from the machine and turning it over. “Quite the find. It will make a beautiful fire…with you in it of course.”
One of his people stepped forward with the torch and lowered it to the stack of papers. Seeing the flame draw closer to the pages these horrible people couldn’t read and would never want to, made something in Gunter click. It was like feeling the world die again. In a flash, one of Grand’s quotes spiked into Gunter’s head. It was a saying he never understood until then. “Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit upon his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats” -H.L. Mencken. “NOOOOO!!!” Gunter screamed; his voice cracked so hard he tasted blood in his mouth.
The soldier’s eyes went wide right before Gunter grabbed him, but he saw that the man’s focus wasn’t on him. He was looking at something behind Gunter. The man went to speak but stopped. His face went slack, as there was a sound like something being fried but louder, stronger. There was a bolt of green light, and he fell. Gunter could see the floor through a smoking hole the size of a potato in his back. The torch clattered to the stone.
Caesar and his crew raised weapons. Their attempt to defend themselves was useless as beams of light tore through them like rain through a spiderweb. A symphony of sizzling noises accompanied each beam. In the time it took for Gunter to focus his eyes, the seven Blighters lay on the floor with cauterized smoldering holes riddled in their bodies.
“Page miner?” A voice asked. Gunter didn’t dare raise his head. He stayed pinned against the printing press fixed on the corpses. His body convulsing with every choppy breath.
“Page miner!” She didn’t ask this time, and Gunter lifted his head the way a beaten mutant looks at its master. She was old, at least as old as Grand, and she was carrying a pistol of a design he’d never seen or read about. She was wearing a jumpsuit, all white, with the image of an open book on her chest. At least twenty others were with her, all armed with rifles and pistols that didn’t look real. All dressed the same as her. Nothing they had looked old or patchwork like everything else in the world. Gunter nodded his head. They saved his life. And there was nothing he could do to stop them if they wanted him dead. A show of respect wasn’t uncalled for. “You found us. Congratulations. You’re the first.”
Gunter shook his head, more to try and regain his composure than anything else. “The first?” He managed to eke out. “Of what?”
“To help us take back what we lost.” She holstered her pistol. The look she gave Gunter, he’d never seen anyone so serious.
Her people were already hoisting the dead bodies away. The scent of burned meat lingered. Gunter took a few seconds to look around at the spectacle of the lost artifact they stood in. It occurred to him the upkeep of the place had to be extensive and constant. The people here didn’t look like people from Gunter’s world. Their skin was healthy, untouched by the brutal sun. And they were muscular with clean hair and clear eyes. After minutes of him staring, Gunter blurted. “What is this place?” His desperate voice vibrated and echoed in the cavernous chamber.
“This,” She motioned to the room, “Is the lobby.” She chuckled at the confusion that was as evident on Gunter’s face as his nose. “Come with me.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and led him down a wide hallway to a railing that overlooked a room larger than the one he was just in. “This,” She motioned below, “Is our namesake. We are The Librarians. The guardians of knowledge and study. This is a library.”
Grand gave him a kaleidoscope as a gift when he was a child. Gunter would look through it with one eye and then the other marveling at the clashing colors and random assortment of shapes until he lost focus. He had the same feeling now. Shelf after shelf after shelf packed together like bricks stuffed with books. More books than he could read in one hundred lifetimes. More words than particles of dirt. More ideas than stars in the sky.
Gunter stood at the railing and gripped the metal feeling the cold steel on his sticky palms. He tried to stay stoic, but the sight below made his legs weak and his stomach flutter. He turned to the Librarian with a pleading look.
“Be my guest.” She said.
Like fired from a gun, he ran down the stairs that led to the ocean of pages. He wanted to swim in it, spend the rest of his life surfing the tomes. More books than he thought were left in the entire world. he reached for the nearest one on the nearest shelf. Like everything else here, it was clean, immaculate. Gunter opened it to creaks and pops like an old man stretching in the morning.
“We gave that map out in the hopes that someone like you might find us. We’ve been preparing and studying. Making new technology. We’re ready. And we need your help.” The Librarian said. Gunter hadn’t known how long he had stood there staring at the pages of a brand-new book. The words were dark on the alabaster paper. He blinked the wetness away from the corners of his eyes. The first line read. “The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.” He had no idea what that meant, but he wanted to find out.
“This isn’t the only one.” The old woman said. “The library? There are more. All over the world. We’ve been in contact with each other for years.” She pointed to a collection of small rooms closed in glass and manned by Librarians on the far wall. They were speaking into a communication device Gunter didn’t know still existed. Radios. And they had more? He swooned at the thought of more places like this, and more people who wanted a better world.
He couldn’t take the smile away from his face. And he realized that he stumbled into the greatest treasure he could have imagined. Gunter was going to help save the planet. The woman patted him on the back. He looked at her, unable to stop grinning and crying, “You can keep that if you want.” She said with a smile and pointed at the book with her chin. “We have other copies.”