Picturesque college campus, circa 1963. In the main library, up a spiral staircase to the third floor. Quiet.
A young professor looks down. He thinks he sees something and squints. The carpet, a standard institutional mash of greys – it appears gelatinous.
The fellow takes steps closer, but slips near the bottom of the stairs and falls through the ground by a water-like layer of escape. He lands in Borges’ Library of Babel and recognizes it immediately. Weird Fishes/Arpeggi plays firmly and presently overhead.
Without second thought he begins looking for the biographies. He turns for a sign that informs him, among other things, that biographies are so many exponential light years in the direction of an arrow. He pushes a slowly flashing button marked WARP and a woman’s voice asks, “To where?”
“With error or without error?”
“Complete or incomplete?”
The gentleman is deatomized and delivered in digital packets to the complete biographies without error where he is reatomized, having the sense that only a few moments have passed.
He walks from room to room for years and years hearing only Weird Fishes/Arpeggi, surviving on the will to know and the essentials allocated to a wall in each. Finally he approaches the room he seeks, slowing into a glide. He stops at his destination and takes a conscious breath – a wall of biographies. He scans their bindings down to the detail, finds his, and turns to the last page.