Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians

lad. The Lenses smelted from that sand will contain the most powerful Oculatory Distortions either land has ever seen. Gathering those sands was your father’s life’s work. I can’t believe you let the Librarians steal them. I’ll be honest, lad – I had higher hopes for you. I really expected better. If only I hadn’t come so late…”
    I sat quietly, looking out the windshield. Now, it’s time you understood something about me. Despite what the stories like to say about my honor and my foresight, the truth is that I possess neither trait in large amounts. One trait I’ve always possessed, however, is rashness. Some call it irresponsibility; others call it spontaneity. Either way, I could rightly be called a somewhat reckless boy, not always prone to carefully considering the consequences of my actions. In this case, of course, there was something more behind the decision I made. I had seen some very odd things that day. It occurred to me that if something as crazy as a gunman showing up in my house could happen, perhaps it could be true that this old man was my grandfather.
    Someone had tried to kill me. My house was in a shambles. I was sitting in a hundred-year-old car with a madman. What the heck, I thought. This might be fun.
    I turned, focusing on the man who claimed to be my grandfather. “I… didn’t let them steal the sand,” I found myself saying.
    Grandpa Smedry turned to me.
    “Or, well, I did ,” I said, “but I let them take the sand on purpose, of course. I wanted to follow them and see what they tried to do with it. After all, how else are we going to uncover their dastardly schemes?”
    Grandpa Smedry paused, then he smiled. His eyes twinkled knowingly, and I saw for the first time a hint of wisdom in the old man. Grandpa Smedry didn’t seem to believe what I had said, but he reached over anyway, clapping me on the arm. “Now that’s talking like a Smedry!”
    “Now,” I said, holding up a finger. “I want to make something very clear. I do not believe a word of what you have told me up to this point.”
    “Understood,” Grandpa Smedry said.
    “I’m only going with you because someone just tried to kill me. You see, I am a somewhat reckless boy and am not always prone to carefully considering the consequences of my actions.”
    “A Smedry trait for certain,” Grandpa Smedry noted.
    “In fact,” I said, “I think that you are a loon and likely not even my grandfather at all.”
    “Very well, then,” Grandpa Smedry said, smiling.
    I paused as the old car turned a corner, moving with a very smooth speed. We were leaving the neighborhood behind, turning onto a commercial street. We began to pass convenience stores, service stations, and the occasional fastfood restaurant.
    It was at that point that I realized Grandpa Smedry had taken his hands off the wheel sometime during the conversation, and now sat with his hands in his lap, smiling happily. I jumped in surprise.
    “Grandpa!” I yelped. “The steering wheel!”
    “Drastic Drakes!” Grandpa Smedry exclaimed. “I nearly forgot!” He grabbed the steering wheel as the car turned another corner. Grandpa Smedry proceeded to turn the wheel back and forth, seeming in random directions, as a child might play with a toy steering wheel. The car didn’t respond to his motions but moved smoothly along the street, picking up speed.
    “Good eye, lad!” Grandpa Smedry said. “We always have to keep up appearances, eh?”
    “Um… yes,” I said. “Is the car driving itself, then?”
    “Of course. What good would it be if it didn’t? Why, you’d have to concentrate so much that it wouldn’t be worth the effort. Might as well walk, I say!”
    Right , I thought.
    Those of you from the Free Kingdoms might be familiar with silimatic engines and can – perhaps - determine how they could be used to mimic a car. Of course, if you’re from the Free Kingdoms, you probably have only a vague idea what a car is in the first place, since you’re used to much larger vehicles. (It’s kind of a like a silimatic crawler with wheels instead of legs, though people treat them more like horses. Only, unlike horses, they aren’t alive – and when they poop, environmentalists get mad.)
    “So,” I asked, “where are we going?”
    “There’s only one place the Librarians would have taken an artifact as powerful as the Sands of Rashid,” Grand Smedry said. “Their local base of operations.”
    “That would be… the