Chương 12: The Basement of Forgotten Ideas

Bart sat at his desk. He took a sip of his green tea and seemed like he was getting used to the taste of hot grass. He let out a deep sigh and looked at his desk. Sitting on the desk next to his mug was a glowing, flickering blue box. Inside the box sat The Guide to Forgotten Seeds, the heavy green book that had carried the Curator's parasite into the Archive. The blue System screen above it blinked slowly: TEMPORARY QUARANTINE. Warning: Field weakening.

Every few seconds, a thick black root would poke out from the book's leather cover and hit the inside of the blue box, trying to break free. Bart stared at it. The Curator in the greenhouse had been wrong about many things, but he had been right about the danger. If an untrained patron opened this book without supervision, one misunderstood paragraph could destroy a whole city. Bart looked at his main System screen.

Current Rank: F (Barely Operational) Mana: 20/20 (Passive Regeneration Restored at Rank F) New Capability Unlocked: Restricted Collection Planning It was a relief to see his mana naturally refilled.

"Albert," Bart called out. The living skeleton stopped sweeping. He walked over to the desk.

"Yes, Keeper?"

"I need to build a Restricted Section," Bart said, pointing at the rattling quarantine box.

"A secure vault where we can lock away dangerous books. Is there a safe place in the Archive?" Albert tapped his bony chin.

"There is the basement, sir." Gregor poked his head out from his curtain nest under the desk.

"A basement? In a floating space? Does it go down into the stars?"

"Yes," Albert said.

"It is very dark. And very dirty. It has not been cleaned since the Archive fell apart."

"Lead the way," Bart said. He picked up the flickering blue box holding the dangerous green book. Albert led them past the front desk and the wobbly gold memoir shelf. They walked to the edge of the floating stone floor. Bart looked down, below the main floor, there was a set of cracked stone stairs. The stairs floated in the space, leading straight down into a heavy black shadow.

"Watch your step, sir," Albert said. The skeleton walked down the stairs first. His white bones glowed slightly in the dark. Bart carefully followed him. A sharp crack spread across the blue box halfway down the stairs. QUARANTINE INTEGRITY: 11% Bart picked up his pace, though his bad back did not like the steep steps. Gregor walked right behind him.

The thief reached for his belt, remembered that the Archive had safely checked his dagger into the umbrella stand upstairs, and picked up a heavy, broken stone instead. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Bart could not see much. It was a long, wide room made of dark gray stone. There were no floating shelves here. The air was thick and dry. It smelled like an old attic that had been closed for a hundred years. Suddenly, Bart heard a soft rustling sound. Shhh. Scratch. Shhh.

"What is that?" Gregor whispered, holding his stone up like a club. In the dark shadows, gray shapes began to move. They rolled out into the open. They looked like giant balls of fuzz. They were the size of large dogs, made entirely of lint, cobwebs, and dust. They did not have eyes or mouths, but they rolled across the floor very quickly, making a dry, scratching sound.

"Oh dear," Albert said.

"Dust Mites."

"Like the tiny bugs?" Bart asked, stepping back.

"No, sir. Not bugs," Albert explained.

"These are literal ideas. When a book is forgotten, or when a thought is neglected for too long, it loses its shape. It gathers dust. If it sits in the dark for years, it turns into one of these. They are very angry that no one remembers them." More and more of the giant dust balls rolled out from the shadows. There were dozens of them. They piled on top of each other, creating a fuzzy, gray wall of forgotten ideas. Did you know this story is from Royal Road?

Read the official version for free and support the author. The largest Dust Mite, a massive boulder of gray lint, rolled to the very front. The dust slowly shifted, forming the vague, spooky shape of a face made of cobwebs. When it spoke, its voice was a chilling, echoing whisper.

"No living reader passes," the dust ball moaned.

"We were abandoned in darkness, and darkness belongs to us." Gregor hid behind Bart.

"Boss, is the lint doing a monologue?"

"We were promised endings," the creature whispered, shaking with anger." 12 volumes. 3 prophecies. A final battle. The author stopped after volume seven." Bart recognized dramatic fantasy nonsense when he heard it. He decided to play along. He stood tall and raised his free hand with quiet authority.

"I summon you to fulfill your oath!" Bart declared.

"You are not the author!" the dust king hissed, puffing up.

"None but the original storyteller may command us! We shall bury you in forgotten drafts!" The wall of dust surged forward. One of the Dust Mites rolled fast and bumped hard into Gregor's leg. Gregor swung his heavy stone at it. Poof. A thick cloud of gray dust exploded into the air.

"Ah-choo!" Gregor sneezed loudly.

"I cannot hit them, boss! They are just polluted air!" Another Dust Mite bumped into Bart's leg. Bart coughed. His mind suddenly felt foggy. For one scary second, he completely forgot the name of the street where the Beaumont Public Library stood. The dust was literally making him lose his memory.

"They are clogging the walkway, sir!" Albert yelled. The skeleton swung his broom, pushing two of the dust balls away, but three more quickly rolled in.

"They want to bury us in forgotten thoughts!" Bart sighed, lowering his raised hand. Right. He was an asst. librarian, not an author. They were doing this the hard way. He looked at the giant pile of dust blocking the path. He remembered the System message from when he stopped the Index Beast. His first four rules were now permanent and cost zero mana. But a new rule would cost energy. He took a deep breath of the dusty air. He pointed his finger straight at the gray wall of fuzzy ideas.

He used his firmest, loudest Library Voice.

"Rule Number Five!" Bart shouted.

"Please keep the aisles clear!" The blue System screen flashed brightly in the dark basement. TEMPORARY DIRECTIVE ESTABLISHED: Keep Aisles Clear. Cost: 15 Mana. (Mana remaining: 5) Action: Path Cleared. Note: Additional successful enforcement required before constitutional adoption. As soon as Bart spoke, a bright blue line appeared on the stone floor, running straight down the middle of the room. A sudden, powerful wind swept through the basement. It was just a mild breeze. The wind did not destroy the Dust Mites.

It shoved them neatly to the sides of the room. It rolled each fuzzy ball into square, open stone compartments along the walls. Small, glowing blue labels appeared above each compartment: CONCEPT AWAITING IDENTIFICATION.

"There," Bart coughed, wiping dust from his glasses.

"We will figure out what books / author they belong to later." In exactly two seconds, the center of the basement was perfectly clear.

"Good rule, boss!" Gregor said, wiping his nose.

"Ah-choo!" Bart carried the cracking blue quarantine box down the clean, open path. The trapped Dust Mites bumped against the invisible walls of their compartments, shouting muffled complaints about abandoned prophecies and unresolved destinies, but they could not enter the aisle. At the very end of the path, they found a massive pile of ruined shelves and compacted dust. Bart carefully placed the cracking blue box on a flat stone ledge. QUARANTINE INTEGRITY: 6%"Dig quickly," Bart said.

Gregor used his stone, Albert used his broom, and Bart used his bare hands. Together, they cleared away the heavy rubble. Buried behind the mess was a heavy, black iron door built into the stone wall. It had a thick turning wheel on the front, like the door of a bank vault. Bart grabbed the cold metal wheel and pulled. The wheel refused to move. Gregor wedged the stone between its spokes while Bart and Albert pulled. Rust cracked, ancient gears groaned, and the door finally swung open.

Inside was a small room untouched by dust, protected by the vault's ancient seals. A single stone pedestal stood in the middle. Bart walked inside. The blue quarantine box around the green book finally shattered like glass. A black root immediately shot out, but Bart quickly dropped The Guide to Forgotten Seeds onto the pedestal. He stepped back out and pushed the heavy iron door shut. He spun the wheel to lock it. The blue System screen popped up in front of the door.

SYSTEM ALERT: RESTRICTED SECTION ESTABLISHED Security Level: High. Access: Keeper Only. Bart frowned at the blue text. He crossed his arms.

"No," Bart said firmly.

"Restricted does not mean buried. That is exactly what the Curator wanted. That is not a library, that is a grave." The System screen blinked. Please define authorized access.

"Keeper approval," Bart stated clearly.

"Supervised consultation. No removal from the room." The screen flashed bright blue. The deep, ancient bells of the Archive rang out, echoing through the dark basement. ARTICLE II UNLOCKED: CONTROLLED ACCESS Dangerous materials may be consulted by authorized patrons under Keeper supervision. The Guide to Forgotten Seeds has been safely secured. Bart smiled. He placed his hand on the cold iron door.

"There," Bart said.

"Now the Curator cannot say we do not have rules."

"Excellent work, Keeper," Albert said, walking up behind him.

"You are truly putting this place back together."

"Yes," Bart said. He turned around and looked at the neatly organized basement of forgotten ideas. He felt proud of making real progress. The Archive was getting stronger.

"Now," Bart said, cracking his knuckles.

"Let us go back upstairs. We have an Alchemy Grinder to fix, and I need to figure out how to ask a troll for its fat without getting eaten."