Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians

thing you should be thinking about?” I asked. “I mean, you’re an anthropologist – you study cultures. Are you allowed to interfere with the ‘natives’ you meet?”
    “What?” Sing said. “Of course we can! Why, we’re here to interfere! We’re trying to overthrow Librarian domination of the Hushlands, after all.”
    “Why not just let people live their lives, and live yours?”
    Sing looked taken aback. “Alcatraz, the Hushlanders are enslaved! They’re being kept in ignorance, living only with the most primitive technologies! Besides, we need to do something to fight. Back at the Conclave of Kings, some people are starting to talk about surrendering to the Librarians completely!” He shook his head. “I’m glad for people like your grandfather, people willing to take the fight into Librarian lands. It shows that we won’t just sit back and slowly have our kingdoms taken from us.”
    Up ahead, Bastille glared back at us. “Would you two like to chat a little more?” she snapped. “Perhaps sing a little tune? If there are any Librarians up ahead, we wouldn’t want them to miss out on hearing us coming .”
    Sing looked at his feet sheepishly, and we fell silent – though a part of me wanted to yell something like, “What did you say, Bastille?” as loudly as I could. You see, that is the sad, sorry, terrible thing about sarcasm.
    It’s really funny.
    But I just walked quietly, thinking about what Sing had said – particularly the part about the Librarians only letting Hushlanders have the most “primitive” of technologies. It seemed ridiculous to me that the Free Kingdomers considered things like guns and automobiles to be “primitive.” They weren’t primitive, they were… well, they were what I knew. Growing up in America, I’d come to assume that everything I had – and did – was the newest, best, and most advanced in the world.
    It was very unsettling to be confronted by people who weren’t impressed by how advanced my culture was. I wanted to huff and think that whatever they had must not be all that good either. Except the problem was that I’d seen that they had self-driving cars, glasses that could track a person’s footprints, and armored knights. All were, in one way or another, superior to what I’d know. (Admit it, knights are just cool.)
    I was coming to realize something very difficult. I was slowly accepting that the way I did things – the way my people did things – might not actually be the best way.
    In other words, I was feeling humility.
    I sincerely hope that you never have to feel this emotion. Like asparagus and fish, it’s not really as good for you as everyone says it is. Selfishness, arrogance, and callousness got me much further than humility ever did.
    Have I mentioned that I’m not really a very good person?
    Our small group reached the end of the unmarked hallway, Bastille still in the lead. She paused, holding up a hand, peeking around the corner. Then she continued onward, her platform sandals making a slight noise as she stepped onto a carpeted floor. Sing and I followed. The room beyond was filled with books.
    Really filled.
    Perhaps you’ve never experienced the full, suffocating majesty of a true library. You Hushlanders have probably visited your local libraries – you’ve perused the parts that normal people are allowed to see. These places tend to have row upon row of neat bookshelves, arranged nicely. They are presented attractively for the same reason that kittens are cute – so that they can draw you in, then pounce on you for the kill.
    Seriously. Stay away from kittens.
    Public libraries exist to entice. The Librarians want everyone to read their books – whether those books are deep and poignant works about dead puppies or nonfiction books about made-up topics, like the Pilgrims, penicillin, and France. In fact, the only book they don’t want you to read is the one you’re holding right now.
    Those aren’t real libraries, however. Real libraries take little concern for enticement. You who have visited the basements stacks of a university library’s philosophy section know what I’m talking about. In such places, the shelves get squeezed closer and closer together, and they reach higher and higher. Piles of books appear randomly at the junctions and in corners waiting to be shelved, like the fourth-generation descendants of a copy of S umma Theologica and an edition of Little Women.
    Dust settles on the books like