The Power of Five Oblivion

jagged and empty, lashed by sea spray, abandoned. Part of him knew that this was all his fault. He had led them through the door in Hong Kong and he had lost them – not just in one world but in two.
    The library was his only hope. He would find all the answers to his questions there – after all, that was what libraries were for. Where were the others? Why were the doors no longer working? What did he have to do to win the struggle against the Old Ones … especially when everything seemed so hopeless and, with a whole decade on their side, it seemed they had already won? All he had to do was ask. The Librarian had been helpful enough. Surrounded by thousands – millions – of books, he seemed to know everything about the past and the future. But Matt was certain that the information would come at a price. He had already been offered the chance to read his own future and had turned it down. Had that been another mistake?
    He had looked for the others and he couldn’t find them. Maybe he had been doing nothing more than putting off the inevitable. At the end of the day, he knew there was no real choice. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time.
    And so he made the decision and turned round. Retracing his steps back to the library was surprisingly easy. They were etched out in the dust, footprints like the ones left by the astronauts on the moon, winding all the way back to the horizon. He had been walking for days, or even weeks, but of course it took him only a few minutes to get back … that was exactly the sort of timetrick that the dreamworld liked to play. Ahead of him, the ground rose up slightly – a sand dune but one that was grey not yellow. He might have covered a hundred kilometres or more but his legs weren’t even tired as he reached the top and stood there, willing himself to continue down the other side.
    The library was spread out in front of him, sprawling across the landscape in every direction. It was still impossible to believe that it was actually a single building as there were so many sections – annexes, vestibules, covered walkways and bridges added over the centuries as each part of it became too small to house the collection of books that it contained. Every human life that had ever been lived had been given its own volume, meaning that there had to be billions of them just to cover the world of the present day. Add thousands of years of history, whole populations growing up and dying, and you arrived at a figure with too many zeros to make sense.
    Matt’s own life was somewhere among them. He had held it in his own hands but he had refused to open it and read. He still didn’t want to. Was that really so unreasonable? Would anyone?
    He climbed down the sand dune. After a while, he felt smooth marble under his feet and realized that this was the same path that he had taken before. The main entrance, a spectacular arched doorway with stone carvings of plants and animals, loomed over him. The front wall soared upwards, blotting out the sky. If it had been constructed to make him feel tiny and insignificant, then it was working. Keeping his head down, forcing himself on, Matt walked into the entrance hall, taking in the great pillars and a vaulted ceiling. And there was the Librarian waiting for him – as if he had never left. He wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t particularly pleased. He was just there.
    “Hello, Matt,” he said.
    “Hello.”
    The Librarian had never told Matt his name. Indeed, Matt had the impression that he didn’t have one.
    “I thought you’d come back eventually. How can I help you?”
    “You know what I want. Why ask?”
    “You sound tired. Would you like some tea?”
    The Librarian had been sitting behind a desk, studying a page of a manuscript with a magnifying glass. Matt almost smiled. Had somebody been vandalizing the books? And what would have happened to the unfortunate person who had had a page torn out of his life? The Librarian put down his things and, gesturing at Matt to follow him, walked through an archway partly concealed behind an ornamental screen. There was a smaller, more welcoming room on the other side. Staff quarters? Two low sofas had been set facing each other with a table on a thick rug between them. A copper teapot, two glasses and a small bowl of dates had already been laid out. Again, the set-up seemed vaguely Arabian to Matt. It reminded him of the inside of a Bedouin tent.
    He sat down and waited while the Librarian