The Library of Ever Page 2

  “May I ask a question?” asked Lenora, panting a bit from the hurry.

  “Always,” came the crisp reply.

  “There were words above that archway I came through—‘Knowledge Is a Light.’”

  “Yes, there would have been. And as a curious librarian, you are wondering what they meant.”

  “Oh … yes!” said Lenora, wondering just how many of her thoughts Malachi knew.

  “It would be best if you figured that out for yourself, Lenora,” Malachi said, and nothing more.

  Lenora thought about the words as they clomped down the stairs. At the bottom, they came to another archway. This one had the word CALENDARS carved above it. Inside was a giant room, completely square. Lenora thought an entire mansion could fit in this one room. All over the walls were calendars. In the middle of the room was a desk with a big sign in front that read HELP DESK.

  “Here is your desk,” said Malachi. “When a patron comes to your desk, say, ‘Hello. How may I help you?’ You’ll figure out the rest from there.” Before Lenora could reply, Malachi hurried away.

  Lenora was alone. She looked at the walls. Calendars for every year seemed to be here, covered in notes and reminders. She saw 1953 and 809 and even 2056 and 3.

  Her heart thumped with excitement. Her own desk at her own job! She looked around. She supposed she could lay claim to this entire room as well. Then she realized that a patron could come along with a question at any time, and she knew nothing about calendars. It was time to get started. Fumbling through her pockets, she found a hair tie and pulled her black locks back into a ponytail, then went behind her desk, where she saw a padded stool and a bookshelf. She looked over the books. The first one she noticed was a dictionary. She picked it up and flipped to W.

  She ran her finger down the pages, looking for whyever. Malachi had used that word, but Lenora had never heard it before.

  But the word wasn’t there. Lenora did not think this was fair. Whenever was a word. So were whoever, whichever, whatever, and even however. This was a situation that had to be corrected. Taking a pen from a cup on her desk, she wrote carefully between whydah and why’ll:

  WHY•EV•ER: meaning “for what reason, as in ‘Whyever would anyone not want to learn new things?’”

  Satisfied, she replaced the dictionary and looked for a book that might help her learn more about calendars. She was not surprised to see a book titled Everything, and I Mean Everything, You Might Ever Want to Know About Calendars. This was the Calendars Help Desk, after all. She began to read. She became completely absorbed. Calendars were much more interesting than she would ever have imagined. She read and read, learning many new things. For example, she learned the answer to what happened in Spain on October 5, 1582: absolutely nothing at all. Nothing happened on October 5, 1582, in Spain, and that was because—

  She was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

  She looked up. In front of the Help Desk stood a very advanced-looking robot. It looked like a handsome older gentleman in a well-tailored suit, with shiny metal skin and blinking red lights for eyes and an inquisitive expression on its face. This was a robot with a question.

  Lenora felt her mouth go dry. The robot looked serious and intelligent. Lenora wondered how she could ever be of assistance to such a sophisticated being. She took a deep breath, thought, One step at a time, and remembered what Malachi had told her to do.

  “Hello,” said Lenora. “How may I help you?”

  “Hello,” said the robot. It had a natural voice that didn’t sound robotic at all. “My name is Bendigeidfran. I was sent by the King of Starpoint Seventeen.”

  “Never heard of it,” said Lenora.

  “It is located in what is called the Great Rift Valley in your time,” the robot explained. “I come from the year 8000.”

  “Interesting,” replied Lenora. She realized she ought to be taking notes. She found a box in one drawer that read NOTEBOOKS—WATERPROOF AND FIREPROOF. She removed one of the pads. In the year 8000, she wrote, the Kingdom of Starpoint Seventeen is located in Great Rift Valley.

  “Ben-di-geid-fran,” she pronounced carefully. “That is a rather long name.”

  “Thank you,” Bendigeidfran said. “It’s Welsh. Some things in Wales have quite long names.”

  Lenora added this to her notes.

  The robot continued, “I was sent here by my king, because the kingdom is in chaos, even more so than usual.”

  “Why is the kingdom usually in chaos?”

  “Because the people of the Kingdom of Starpoint Seventeen are a little…” The robot hesitated. “Well, you’ll see. We need a librarian, and the king says she must appear before him personally. He needs to appear to be in control of the situation.”

  “I understand completely,” said Lenora. It was important to appear in control of the situation, but even more important to actually be in control of the situation, and to be in control of the situation you needed to know the facts. And Lenora knew the facts. Or at least some of them. She knew she had much to learn. But she remembered the words of her oath, her promise to venture forth bravely and find the answer to any question, and she knew it was time to put herself to the test.

  “Take me to your king,” said Lenora. “I assume you’ve got a time machine somewhere.”

  “Right here,” said Bendigeidfran, and he pointed at his wrist. There was a device there Lenora would have called a watch, but she supposed in 8000 those could double as time machines. “Ready?”

  “One question before we go,” said Lenora. “Why did you come to me? Aren’t there libraries in 8000?”

  “Of course,” said the robot. “But there was a bit of a line.”

  He touched his time machine and they both vanished.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lenora Ventures Forth Bravely

  At least, Lenora assumed she and the robot had vanished from the Calendar room. Because they certainly weren’t in the library anymore. They were in front of an enormous pair of marble doors in a wide courtyard open to the sky. The courtyard was covered in smooth white tiles. Everything around them was peaceful and quiet. There was no chaos in sight. Lenora’s gaze traveled up to the open sky. There she saw giant red letters blinking: ERROR, the letters said, over and over.

  “What is that?” asked Lenora, pointing.

  The robot looked just as puzzled. “I don’t remember. I’m sure it’s the reason for the chaos, though.”

  “You don’t remember? Robots have memory banks, don’t they?” She thought she had seen that in a movie somewhere.

  “Yes, but…” Bendigeidfran hesitated. “I’ve been having problems with my memory unit ever since I bashed my head against the nose of the Great Sphinx of Giza.” He pointed to a dent next to a small panel on his metal head. “Maybe you could take a look?”

  “I suppose you’d want a librarian from the Robotics section for that,” said Lenora. “But it can’t hurt to try. Open up.”

  The robot knelt and pressed on the panel, which popped open. Lenora peered inside. As she expected, much about a robotic brain from the year 8000 meant absolutely nothing to her. But amid all the dancing lights and graceful whirling dials she noticed a spot with six slots on it. The trouble was, only five of those spots were occupied by glittering chips. The sixth slot was empty.

  “Do you suppose you are missing a chip?” she said. “It could have gotten knocked off when you bashed your head.”

  The robot snapped his fingers as his eyes changed to a happy green. “Yes! That must be it. I’ll have to go back and find it. But first—we must do something about the chaos.”

  “Of course,” said Lenora. “But I don’t see any signs of chaos.”

  “You will,” Bendigeidfran replied. He threw open the doors.

  They were staring down a wide, ornate hall with many interesting details. But Lenora couldn’t notice any of them because of the chaos. It was exactly as you would expect chaos to be. People were running up and down and back and for
th, screaming or muttering or both. Some of them threw their hands in the air, while others hugged themselves and shuddered. Their clothes could have been called strange, but Lenora had every expectation that people in 8000 would dress differently, so this did not surprise her. She was well prepared for time travel.

  “The librarian is here!” cried Bendigeidfran. “Make way for the librarian!”

  The panicking people threw themselves against the sides of the hall, clearing a path for Lenora. She strode down the hall beside Bendigeidfran, hoping desperately that the robot’s trust in her was not misplaced. After all, it was only her first day on the job.

  “Save us, librarian!” a pale-faced man whimpered.

  Lenora tried to think of what Malachi might say. Malachi, she decided, would surely appear to be in control of the situation. “Do not fear. All will be well,” Lenora said to the man, both to comfort him and also herself. He smiled at her in relief.

  Now she could see some of the details of the hall. The main one was the statue. It was really a set of statues, all copies of the same sculpture, and there were hundreds of them lining the hall. The statues were all of a small boy, a few years younger than Lenora, with a rather large head and a pair of owlish glasses. He looked solemn and confident.

  Soon Lenora and Bendigeidfran were approaching another set of huge marble doors. These doors were attended by a bunch of men in fancy, frilly coats who began blowing trumpets as the pair neared. When they paused at the doors, the trumpeting ceased and the men bowed to Lenora. Behind her, the crowd in the hall applauded wildly. Lenora didn’t find any of this to be necessary at all, and she wondered if the Kingdom of Starpoint Seventeen wasn’t overdoing things just a bit.

  “Before we go in,” Bendigeidfran whispered, “I should warn you. Not everyone is happy you are here. The Court Historian and Court Mathematician believe they have all the answers, and they told the king there was no need for a librarian at all. Be wary of both of them.”

  Lenora gulped, then reminded herself that she had promised to think on her feet and improvise and rely on her wits and valor. She just wished the moment for that hadn’t come quite so quickly.

  The men in frilly coats pushed open the doors, and together she and the robot entered the throne room. Lenora knew it was the throne room because there was a throne in it. On it sat, unsurprisingly, a small boy with a large head and a pair of owlish glasses. He looked solemn and confident. Lenora wondered if he was actually panicking inside. On one side of him stood a man who looked very much like a court historian and, on the other, a woman who looked exactly like a court mathematician. The mass of people from the hall flowed into the throne room and stood all around, murmuring.

  All eyes were on Lenora.

  The throne room was open to the sky. ERROR, blinked the letters there.

  “Hello, Your Majesty,” said Lenora. “How may I help you?”

  “You mayn’t!” snarled the Court Historian at the same time the Court Mathematician barked, “No need!”

  “Ahem!” said the king, and both went quiet, glaring at Lenora. The king gave them a look of admonishment and addressed her. “Centuries ago, our scientists put a giant calendar on a screen in the sky, so everyone in the kingdom would always know what day it was. We got so used to it that we forgot how to tell the dates ourselves. Then yesterday, at midnight, the error message suddenly appeared. Now no one knows what day it is, and my kingdom is on the verge of collapse.”

  “Well,” said Lenora, after a moment’s thought, “what day was it yesterday?”

  The crowd murmured again. Lenora wished they would stop doing that.

  The King of Starpoint Seventeen’s brow furrowed. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible furrow. “I really don’t know,” he said, in the voice of a small, ever so slightly unconfident boy. “It’s embarrassing, I admit. But we never had to bother remembering before. The screen just told us.” He gestured toward a sweating, nervous-looking man in the corner. “My court scientist is prepared to reset the calendar and save my kingdom, but he can’t do that until we know the date.”

  Lenora turned to Bendigeidfran. “Any chance that’s in one of the memory chips you’ve still got?”

  The crowd gasped.

  “Maybe, but…” The robot hesitated. “I have been getting extra confused on dates in particular.”

  “Think hard,” said Lenora encouragingly.

  Bendigeidfran thought hard. His eyes went an intense purple. Finally, he replied, “I think … it might have been February 28, 8000.”

  “Right!” gasped the king. He looked relieved. “I remember now!”

  “Excuse me,” sniffed the Court Historian. “As Your Majesty knows, I went to the history books right away when the error message appeared. And if yesterday was February 28, then it is clear that today should be February 29.” He peered down his nose at Lenora. She wondered if his authority felt threatened. “As I told you, Your Majesty, we didn’t need a librarian at all!”

  Lenora began to get a feeling. She’d just been reading about this in her book. “Why do you think it is February 29?”

  “Because,” sighed the Court Historian, rolling his eyes, “according to ancient records from the year 5739, there’s something called a leap year in any year that can be divided by four. In a leap year, the date goes from February twenty-eighth to the twenty-ninth!”

  “8000 can be divided by four,” piped up the Court Mathematician. “We hardly need a librarian to determine THAT!”

  Lenora’s feeling became a theory. She was about to speak when the king interrupted.

  “Then it is settled!” he cried. “Reset the calendar!”

  The Court Scientist grasped a lever in a wall nearby.

  For an instant, Lenora hesitated. Everyone in the court seemed so sure of themselves. But she had a theory, and she knew she must be brave, or disaster would surely follow.

  “Wait!” she shouted. “Stop!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lenora Saves the Day

  The throne room’s hysterical crowd erupted with shouts and cries. The Court Scientist released the lever and looked at the king.

  Lenora tried to continue speaking but couldn’t hear herself or anything else over the crowd’s bedlam. She whirled to face them. “Everyone—please SHUSH!”

  Instantly, the crowd went dead silent and looked wide-eyed at Lenora. She felt a little guilty, but really, a librarian had a right to a bit of silence when needed.

  She turned to the king. “It isn’t February 29, Your Majesty,” she said. “It’s March 1!”

  The Court Mathematician smirked. “Wrong, librarian. The math proves it.”

  Muffled gasps from the crowd.

  “No, the history proves it!” exclaimed the Court Historian.

  More gasps, and Lenora looked around to see everyone on the tips of their toes, leaning forward, awaiting her response. Her mind raced with the facts she had read in the calendar book. “Neither one proves it alone,” she said carefully. “You have to take both together. Leap years don’t always come every four years. According to the rules, century years, like 1800 and 1900, are not leap years. But they—”

  “This is a century year,” interrupted the Court Historian. “It’s 8000. Make up your mind!”

  “As I was about to say,” Lenora said, determined to be patient and professional, “that rule switches every four hundred years. 1600 and 2000, for example, were both leap years.”

  “Fine!” said the Court Mathematician rudely. “The math still says 8000 is one of those years.”

  “Not quite,” said Lenora, pointing a finger to the sky as she reached her dramatic conclusion. “There is something the scientists who built the screen must not have known. By the year 4000 the calendar would have been off by a day, unless they added a rule that switches things every 4000 years. And that means 8000, like 4000 and 12000, must be a common year.”

  “I assume,” mused the king, “that a common year is anything that is not a leap year.”
>
  “Correct,” said Lenora.

  “Clearly, this librarian knows her calendars.” The king looked at his mathematician and historian, who appeared rather ashamed of themselves and were staring studiously at their toes. “If there are no objections, we shall reset the date to March 1.”

  Relief flooded Lenora. But at the same time, she felt that something was still wrong. They had yet to solve the real problem. She could see herself returning here in 12000 and then 16000 and on and on to solve the exact same problem every time. “Pardon me, Your Majesty,” she said, “but I don’t think you should reset the screen. I think you should take it down.”

  “Whyever would we do that?” asked the king in surprise.

  “Because,” said Lenora, “you don’t want to depend on the screen, do you? It will just mean more confusion every four thousand years.”

  “Very wise,” said the king. He turned to the Court Scientist. “Bring down the screen,” he ordered. “From this day forward, we will learn to tell dates ourselves!”

  There was general cheering. This time, Lenora didn’t shush the crowd. In the midst of the celebration, the king approached Lenora with a laurel wreath and placed it on her head. “You have served me well. I hereby appoint you my Court Librarian!”

  The roars grew louder. Lenora felt a humming just above her heart. She looked down at her badge.

  LENORA

  THIRD ASSISTANT APPRENTICE LIBRARIAN

  OFFICIAL COURT LIBRARIAN OF THE KINGDOM OF STARPOINT SEVENTEEN

  Third Assistant! thought Lenora happily. Only her first day at her job, and she’d already been promoted. Which reminded her—she really must get back to the Help Desk. She looked about for Bendigeidfran and saw that he had been pulled into a corner by a short elderly woman with dour features and a too-tight overcoat and a black bowler hat jammed onto her head. She was whispering into the robot’s ear and glancing at Lenora.

  Lenora started toward the pair, then stopped. Her arm was suddenly covered in goose bumps. The woman in the too-tight overcoat and bowler hat reminded her very much of the man she’d encountered outside the Astrophysics room at the library back home, and she chilled Lenora through and through. Though she had a badge saying LIBRARIAN (spelled correctly this time), Lenora could not imagine what business she had in the court of the King of Starpoint Seventeen.