Chương 36: After Hours at the Infinite Archive

Bart sat behind his solid oak desk with both hands wrapped around his faded BPL mug. Perfect coffee steamed beneath his nose, rich with roasted hazelnut and that he had spent an unreasonable amount of effort acquiring. The Archive was quiet. For once, nothing was exploding, barging in, attempting to escape containment or generating a new quest. Bart checked his casio digital watch still set to central time zone on Earth which he still wore for nostalgia.

His body seemed tired and It had been a very long day trying to make sense of sections in archive. Regardless of what the Infinite Archive thought about interdimensional temporal mechanics, to Bart at least it felt late. Libraries needed routines, Humans needed some rest.

"System," Bart said to the empty air.

"Set standard library hours. We close at midnight." A blue screen appeared. CLARIFICATION REQUIRED Midnight according to which temporal jurisdiction? Bart frowned.

"Here." THE INFINITE ARCHIVE HAS NO PLANETARY ROTATION.

"Archive midnight." NO SUCH TIME REGISTERED. Bart stared at it.

"Do we at least have hours?" YES.

"Days?" FOR ADMINISTRATIVE PURPOSES.

"Night?" NO. Bart took a slow sip of coffee.

"Fine. We are inventing one." He tapped his fingers against the desk while he considered the practical requirements.

"Institute an After-Hours Reading Room policy. Reduce the lighting. Quiet voices only. Maintain normal circulation services." The System paused. Instead of the usual sharp notification, a softer golden screen appeared. LEGACY SERVICE MODE DETECTED After-Hours Reading Room: Previously operational Last activation: 643 years ago Restore? YES / NO Bart stopped. Apparently, somebody six centuries ago had also decided that an institution existing outside planetary time still needed an evening. He tapped YES.

The bright blue illumination filling the Archive slowly faded. Warm golden lamps awakened between the restored shelves. The impossible darkness beyond the shattered edges of the Archive remained unchanged, but inside, long comfortable shadows settled between bookcases and reading tables. AFTER-HOURS READING ROOM RESTORED Lighting: Reduced by 60% Audio limit: Library whispers enforced Circulation services: ACTIVE With a soft click, a polished brass clock materialised on the wall behind Bart's desk.

AFTER-HOURS FACILITY EQUIPMENT Quiet Clock: INSTALLED Bart turned in his chair. It looked vaguely like an old railway clock from Britain in 20th century, except the main face contained no ordinary hands. ARCHIVE STANDARD TIME Current Cycle Hour: 19: 42 Beneath it, another display read: Active Patron Temporal References: 0 Three smaller brass dials sat blank beneath the words. Bart considered asking how many patron clocks the device could eventually support. He decided that was a problem for the future.

Across the room, Albert was dusting a filing cabinet.

"Albert." The skeleton turned.

"Yes, Keeper?"

"You told Gregor the Romance Wing was dangerous after dark."

"Yes, sir."

"There is no dark." Albert paused with his feather duster suspended in the air.

"That explains why we were having so much trouble enforcing it." Bart just stared at him while Albert resumed dusting. A few minutes later, the plain white Staff Restroom door rattled. Whoosh. Gurgle. Elian stepped through carrying a stack of books so large that only the top of his blue wizard's hat was visible above them. He carefully lowered the pile onto a reading table. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"I passed the exam, by the way," he whispered. Bart looked up.

"No frog?"

"Yep!!."

"Congratulations." Elian smiled wearily.

"Unfortunately, they gave me harder work."

"That is generally how education functions." replied Bart Elian settled into the nearest chair and opened 3 books at once and the Archive returned to silence for approximately 4 minutes. The Staff Restroom door rattled again. Whoosh. Gurgle. Freezing air rolled through the Reading Room. Morzath the Undying floated through the doorway in all in armour and flowing cape. Purple fire burned inside his empty eye sockets. He raised both skeletal hands and began "MORTALS!" Morzath thundered.

"HEED AND COWER BEFORE THE MIGHT OF—" but what emerged from the lich was a perfectly restrained library whisper. Morzath just stopped midway and looked around AFTER-HOURS AUDIO POLICY: ACTIVE"I dislike this," Morzath whispered with enormous menace. Albert paused his sweeping and gave him a cheerful thumbs up. Morzath stared at him while Albert continued sweeping.

Resigned, Morzath floated toward the Culinary Research table to continue his supervised consultation with copy of The Master's Guide to Advanced Pastry Baking. The Staff Restroom door rattled for the 3rd time. Master Gurrum Goldbelly ducked beneath the frame. The enormous golden troll baker wore his spotless white apron and carried a woven basket large enough to contain Gregor. Warm scents of brown butter, baked apple, cinnamon, and honey immediately filled the Reading Room.

Gurrum had come partly to inspect the condition of his loaned cookbook. Albert accepted the basket it with both skeletal hands and began arranging the pastries neatly on a side table. Gurrum immediately walked toward the Culinary Research corner. First, he inspected the replacement oven and the fresh scorch mark on the wall. Then the cardboard sign Albert had placed prominently above the worktable caught his eye: PLEASE DO NOT NECROMANCE THE DOUGH Gurrum turned slowly looked at Morzath.

Morzath suddenly found the cookbook extremely interesting. At Bart's desk, a small wooden tray marked LIAISON INBOX flashed blue. A folded piece of paper appeared inside. Bart unfolded it. Dear Keeper, The new desk works perfectly. The king remains extremely angry about the goose plaque. This afternoon he tried yelling at a cloud instead got rained on. History is finally being documented accurately. Thank you, Thaddeus Bart smiled faintly. He filed the letter beneath TREMENDIA - ROUTINE CORRESPONDENCE.

Looks like the partnership was working exactly as intended. Across the Reading Room, Morzath was still staring at a block of butter. The last time he had attempted to soften butter, he had achieved something called butter gas. He had apparently decided not to repeat the experiment. One skeletal finger hovered suspiciously over the block. At the nearby study table, Elian groaned and lowered his forehead onto an open book.

"This makes no sense," he complained in an aggressive whisper.

"It is written in a dead language. Nobody has spoken this for a thousand years." Morzath's purple eyes turned toward him. The lich floated across the room. Elian tried very carefully not to run. The lich leaned over the crumbling page.

"Old Mercurial." Elian blinked.

"You can read it?"

"It says, 'Add crushed moon rock before stirring.'" Elian looked between Morzath and the book.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I conquered the people who wrote it." There was a brief pause.

"They were very brave," Morzath added. Elian waited.

"But very bad at fighting the undead."

"Oh." Elian looked down at the translated passage and quickly made a note.

"Well... thank you." Morzath gave him a solemn nod and floated back toward his butter. A few seconds later, Elian looked over. The lich was still staring at it.

"Are you trying to soften that?"

"It defies my dark powers."

"It is butter."

"Exactly."

"You don't need dark powers. You need a calibrated warming cantrip." Morzath's head slowly turned.

"A what?"

"We use them to brew tea." Elian demonstrated a tiny circular movement of his fingers.

"Very low heat. Constant output. You are not trying to overcook it." Morzath raised one enormous skeletal hand and copied him. A faint golden warmth surrounded the butter, for once nothing exploded or screamed The butter simply softened.

"Incredible." said Mozarth Master Gurrum had been watching. The golden troll approached the table and pressed one enormous finger into the softened butter. He examined it and just said.

"Acceptable." Morzath straightened.

"I have mastered butter."

"No." Gurrum handed him a wooden spoon.

"You have just met butter." Morzath stared at the spoon.

"What now?"

"Cream it." Dark purple fire immediately began gathering around Morzath's fingers. Gurrum slapped his hand with the wooden spoon.

"By hand." The purple fire vanished. Morzath looked deeply offended. Gregor sat cross legged beside the pastry table with half an apple tart in his mouth.

"He's seems to be a strict teacher." looking at Gurrum Gregor nodded thoughtfully and returned his attention to a small card Gurrum had placed beside the pastries. He traced one dirty finger beneath the letters.

"A... P... P..." He frowned.

"L?"

"Correct," Bart said from across the room.

"E." Gregor's face brightened.

"Apple." Gurrum immediately handed him another tart that delighted Gregor. High above them, the Almanac of Inevitable Doom opened itself. Red letters crawled across the page. NOTHING TERRIBLE HAS HAPPENED FOR LAST 29 MINUTES. DISGUSTING!!. The Almanac snapped shut again. Bart returned to his coffee. No intervention seem required. He glanced at the Quiet Clock. Its secondary display had changed. Active Patron Temporal References: 3 The two smaller dials were now moving.

GILDARA - Early Morning MORZATH - Local Classification: NIGHT Bart looked around the Reading Room. Elian had come because he needed somewhere quiet to work. Gurrum had come because he trusted the Archive with something valuable enough to check personally. Morzath had returned because, for reasons Bart still found somewhat extraordinary, the ancient destroyer of kingdoms genuinely wanted to learn how to bake. Gregor was practicing his letters while eating pastry.

Albert was sweeping a floor that technically did not seem to be dusty. They had simply chosen to come or stay. Bart lifted his mug The Archive had regulars and staff now. He took another sip, It was still perfect. Hours passed. The Quiet Clock ticked through several overlapping rhythms while books opened and closed beneath the warm golden lamps. Eventually, Elian stacked his papers and pushed back his chair. He looked exhausted, but considerably less desperate than when he had arrived.

He brought his books to Bart's desk.

"Thank you for the quiet space, Keeper."

"You are welcome, Elian." The young wizard shouldered his bag. Then he stopped.

"Actually..." Bart looked up. Elian shifted uneasily.

"There is one thing I still cannot resolve." Bart put down his mug.

"What is the problem?" Elian removed three small green bound books and placed them side by side.

"Book A attributes a magical formula to Book B." Bart nodded.

"Book B says the formula originated in Book C."

"And Book C?" Elian grimaced.

"Cites Book A as its original source." Bart stared at the books.

"So nobody wrote it."

"Somebody wrote it," Elian said.

"Nobody knows who." Bart pulled the first book closer. A missing source was straightforward. You either found it, or eventually established that it had been lost. This was different. The books had sources. Their sources had sources. But the chain had no beginning.

"Where did they come from?"

"A farming world. Mostly magical scholars, gardens, agricultural colleges and several societies that apparently hate one another."

"Name?"

"Greenhollow." Bart opened a fresh folder. Across the tab he wrote: GREENHOLLOW A blue notice appeared above the desk. REFERENCE QUERY REGISTERED Citation origin: UNRESOLVED From across the Reading Room came a deep voice.

"Greenhollow?" Bart looked up. Gurrum had stopped inspecting Morzath's dough.

"You know it?" The troll's expression had become considerably more serious.

"Every old fermentation charter in Gildara eventually cites Greenhollow." Morzath's wooden spoon stopped moving. Bart looked toward him. The lich was staring at the three green books.

"So do I," Morzath said.

"Through baking?" Bart asked.

"No." He offered nothing further. Bart shook his head and looked at the three books sitting on his desk. It was already becoming complicated. So much for After Hours.