fandomhigh | Library, Monday [6/7]

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Library, Monday [6/7]

Gabrielle had been hoping for a quiet shift today. She wasn't entirely naive enough to think that just hoping for one made it any more likely to happen, though.

Finding a mis-shelved compendium of Spartan history bristling and rustling its pages at the volumes on Athenian culture surrounding it made her feel vindicated in that touch of pessimism . . . and very, very relieved that this situation could be handled with just a little proper reshelving.

If only it were always that easy.

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"Threats from a circulation aide, that's a new one," Peter said, but he was smiling. "Glad to see some passion about your work." It was an attitude he could really appreciate.

"On a more serious note, I was wondering how the library was laid out. Is my ability to understand the Dewey Decimal System of any use here?"

"Things that eat the books are entirely possible," Gabrielle felt the need to inform him; this applied both for Fandom and for her world. She wouldn't put it past people like oh, say, Sisyphus. "Can't be too careful."

She carefully shoved her scroll aside and propped her chin up on her hand, thinking. "It's a good start, but try and think of it more like a guideline around here, rather than a map. The library can be a little . . . capricious."

Oooh. 'Capricious' was a good word.

"Because people tend to reshelve their books anywhere they feel like?" Peter said, hoping that it was a simple, logical explanation for the adjective Gabrielle had chosen.

He had a feeling that it wasn't, though.

"Ha! That's the easy part," Gabrielle told him, gesticulating wildly with her quill. "When the library itself gets in on the act, though? Oh, that's when things really get interesting."

"The library itself," Peter scoffed lightly, even though in the back of his mind he had to admit that it wasn't all that surprising, given all the other curious and unique properties of the island. "I take it you're not merely implying it has a mind of its own, but stating it."

"It's part of my job to help people," Gabrielle replied, jutting her chin out just a tiny bit. "That includes making sure they're prepared. You know how they say literature can be an adventure? Our literature takes that literally sometimes."

"I'm hoping the nonfiction is a little more well-behaved," Peter said. "The last thing any library needs is an Anarchist's Cookbook that actually blows up in your face."

He smiled at his joke. "Anything else I need to be warned about?"

The joke went right over Gabrielle's head; she was busy shooting a glare in the direction of the nonfiction section that had been giving her trouble this morning.

"About anything in general, or the library specifically?"

It had better not be the former, or he'd never get a word in edgewise.

For weeks.

"For now, let's stick with the library specifically," Peter said. "Since I have a feeling I'm going to become one of your best customers."

Cue Gabrielle's skeptical look, which was more cute than effectively disbelieving. "Oh, really? What makes you suspect that?"

"I tend to read a lot," Peter said. "And unlike most people our age, that actually means reading more than just trashy literature and how-to guides on dating."

"Trashy literature and how-to guides on dating are more reading than most of my entire home village did," Gabrielle replied. "By most standards of my time, that's impressive."

"Peter Bishop," he introduced, finally. He extended a hand in greeting. "It's definitely a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He'd been wondering about the quill and such, but didn't want to seem rude by asking, not right away at least.

"Gabrielle," she answered, shaking his hand with one that was, besides somewhat inkstained, a bit callused. "From Poteidaia, in Thrace. Good to meet you, Peter, especially if you appreciate books."

"I appreciate the books almost as much as I appreciate what they hold," Peter said. "Thrace, huh? I think my next question should be when, just so I know more about the where."

"Isn't that the question," Gabrielle said ruefully. "The best I can tell, it's about three thousand years ago."

"Now that's some culture shock," Peter said. "And I thought I had it bad with being from ninety-six. You seem to have adjusted pretty amazingly, though."

"I've been here almost a year. I've had time." Yes. Said the girl who was writing on parchment with a quill. "It's been a lot to adjust to, but I enjoy a challenge."

She paused. "Ninety-six?"

"Fourteen years ago, sorry," Peter said. "And anyone willing to step up to this sort of challenge is definitely impressive in my book."

He snapped his fingers. "Speaking of books, I was actually hoping you could direct me where the books on Tesla might be found."

"Oh, I don't know. A lot can change in fourteen years. In all the small ways, too, and I wonder if that isn't more shocking in some ways . . ."

Gabrielle thought Tesla was some kind of mythical creature, or a warlord, because they had names like that in her world. "Ancient history should be over that way," she offered, pointing in the direction of the stacks she thought were the relevant ones.

"Not so ancient," Peter explained, pleasantly. "Austrian-American inventor from the last century, did a lot of work with electricity. Definitely worth reading up on yourself if you're so inclined."

". . . oh." Gabrielle grinned sheepishly. "I knew that."

She hadn't.

"I'm not much of a science person, unfortunately."

"Fair enough," Peter said. "I think I'll actually go find it for myself. But thank you for your help, I appreciate it."

"Any time," Gabrielle assured him happily. "It's what I'm here for. I like having people to help, it makes me feel fulfilled in my aide duties."

She could go on like this forever. Better run, Peter. Unless you wanted to hear her go on forever.

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Library, Monday [6/7]

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