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In
another
time
and
place
,
the
Librarian
finished
reading
.
He
’
d
reached
the
end
of
the
text
.
Not
the
end
of
the
book
-
there
was
plenty
more
book
.
It
had
been
scorched
beyond
the
point
of
legibility
,
though
.
Not
that
the
last
few
unburned
pages
were
very
easy
to
read
.
The
author
’
s
hand
had
been
shaking
,
he
’
d
been
writing
fast
,
and
he
’
d
blotted
a
lot
.
But
the
Librarian
had
wrestled
with
many
a
terrifying
text
in
some
of
the
worst
books
ever
bound
,
words
that
tried
to
read
you
as
you
read
them
,
words
that
writhed
on
the
page
.
At
least
these
weren
’
t
words
like
that
.
These
were
just
the
words
of
a
man
frightened
for
his
life
.
A
man
writing
a
dreadful
warning
.
It
was
a
page
a
little
back
from
the
burned
section
that
drew
the
Librarian
’
s
eye
.
He
sat
and
stared
at
it
for
some
time
.
Then
he
stared
at
the
darkness
.
It
was
his
darkness
.
He
was
asleep
out
there
somewhere
.
Somewhere
out
there
a
thief
was
heading
for
this
place
,
to
steal
this
book
.
And
then
someone
would
read
this
book
,
read
these
words
,
and
do
it
anyway
.
His
hands
itched
.
All
he
had
to
do
was
hide
the
book
,
or
drop
on
to
the
thief
’
s
head
and
unscrew
it
by
the
ears
.
He
stared
into
the
darkness
again
.
.
.
But
that
would
be
interfering
with
the
course
of
history
.
Horrible
things
could
happen
.
The
Librarian
knew
all
about
this
sort
of
thing
,
it
was
part
of
what
you
had
to
know
before
you
were
allowed
into
L
-
space
.
He
’
d
seen
pictures
in
ancient
books
.
Time
could
bifurcate
,
like
a
pair
of
trousers
.
You
could
end
up
in
the
wrong
leg
,
living
a
life
that
was
actually
happening
in
the
other
leg
,
talking
to
people
who
weren
’
t
in
your
leg
,
walking
into
walls
that
weren
’
t
there
any
more
.
Life
could
be
horrible
in
the
wrong
trouser
of
Time
.
