The Experience of Being Alive

Chapter Four

Sunlight streamed through the windows in Binny's room. The tops of the surrounding gardens were slightly distorted through the wavy panes of glass. Binny rubbed the sleep from her eyes; the previous night's conversation slowly coming back to her.

"Do you know how many pieces of fiction are published every year?" Katniss had said. Binny didn't know. But Katniss did and had been happy to explain in detail.

Apparently, on order of a hundred thousand pieces of fiction were created and shared every year. At least that had been the rough estimate. Apparently even the Keepers didn't know exactly.

And for every book or story that was written and read even just once, the characters from that book would eventually show up in the Stacks, just as confused and forlorn as Binny had been. It was Arya who'd offered those particular descriptors.

Katniss had done some quick math estimating an average of ten characters that had made it into the Stacks from each book and that led to roughly a million new citizens each year.

This was when Arya had taken over and explained that in recent years those numbers had exploded. Apparently the Internet had unleashed a torrent of new writers and stories on society, and each of those had contributed characters to the Stacks as well.

Binny recalled Katniss' sarcastic interjection, "The Keepers love that."

Hermione had pursed her lips in disapproval during this part of the conversation in such a way that Binny had decided not to ask for more detail.

"So you see, you're never gonna find them," Katniss had said with finality.

Binny thought she remembered Arya saying under her breath, "Family is overrated anyway." But now she wasn't completely certain.

Hermione apparently felt the conversation had run its course, "We should all get to sleep anyway. We need to be up tomorrow."

And Binny had suddenly felt quite tired. Exhausted in fact. She had so many more questions, but sleep took her in its warm embrace and hadn't let go until just now.

Knocking was apparently a mere formality as Hermione entered immediately without waiting for a response. "Hey sleepyhead. It's time to get up. You don't want to be late. It's bad form."

Binny pulled the blanket up to her neck. "Late? Late for what?"

Hermione shook her head in mock frustration. "For what? For work of course."

¤

Binny trailed Hermione as best she could in the morning 'traffic'. Arya had run a bit ahead, and Katniss was lagging behind looking determined not to change her pace no matter how often Hermione complained.

Eventually they were through one of the stone arches and into the library which if anything was more packed than it had been the previous day. Binny gawked at the sheer number of books the place housed. And she was sure she was seeing only a tiny fraction of a fraction of them as she walked.

The bookcases were built eight, nine, or even ten shelves high. Bookcases were built into walls. There were low walls with just two or three shelves, and high walls that arched over passageways with one or two shelves built into the arches themselves.

Even the benches, seats, and carrels that they passed contained books. Periodically there were also little living room arrangements with screens mounted on nearby walls or set on low tables. But unlike the previous day, these were all empty now.

As they were walking through a particularly tight passage Hermione came to an abrupt stop. "Oh, so sorry Three."

A young man was standing on an extremely tall ladder placing books on a top shelf. He was gray but with the barest golden tint. He sparkled a little. Like faded asphalt glittering in the sun. He was twenty or twenty-five maybe? Binny wasn't entirely sure as adults all just kind of looked old to her, but this guy definitely looked younger than Binny's book parents.