unfinishedlibrary | Careful of the stacks

Entry tags:

Careful of the stacks - LIBRARY LOG

Who: EVERYONE!
What: A bunch of Editors walk into a library...
When: October 31st - November 13
Where: The Unfinished Library
Content warnings: Please add them as needed in the comment titles!

Welcome to the Library, Editors.

As the new residents drop into the Library, they are bound to have questions. Unfortunately it seems no one (except perhaps someone on the phone) appears to have any answers. But there is a nice little cart with a carafe of too weak coffee, a pot of too strong tea, assorted creams and sugar packets, and what appear to be leftover boxed shortbread cookies. There’s a sign inviting people to help themselves but reminding them not to take any food or drinks into the stacks, or touch any of the books with their grubby cookie hands. But aside from this little display and the nametags they’re all given, which do reappear whenever removed for the first week (where do they keep coming from?), the Editors are more or less left alone.

The Library is eternal, or at least it seems that way, unbothered by its new inhabitants. It certainly does not seem like this is anything unusual within its operation. Are there other sections of the Library with Editors, tucked into a different part of the stacks? Have there been Editors here before, and the ones here are simply a replacement? It’s impossible to say, just that the Library seems quite prepared for them. The refrigerators are stocked with appropriate (if generic) foodstuffs, any tantrums in front of the circulation desk are completely ignored, and attempts to set the Library on fire fizzle out before anything can even catch.

However, after a few days, some of the scenery in the Library seems to be changing. Little singing bowls and white noise makers pop up on various shelves and counters, yoga mats appear tucked under the bunk beds (plenty for everyone, somehow), and some of the rooms have started playing relaxing, meditative music over unseen speakers. More confusingly, there are also small UFOs hanging by string from the lower ceilings of the contained rooms, which on closer reflection are revealed to simply be two paper plates glued together and painted silver. In the beginning they’re quite sparse, but by the end of the second week they are everywhere and impossible to ignore.

At the start of the second week, there is a possible hint as to why, for at least part of it. On the table by the circulation desk there is a sign: “This Week’s Recommended Reading: Invasion of the Body Snatchers!” Next to it, there is a sign up sheet: a waitlist to check-out the ‘reading.’ (There is no explanation or apology for it actually being a movie.)

[ooc note: The Library prompts from the TDM can be considered canon to the game. Remember any of the locations listed in the setting are fair game. Have fun!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Library

Well. That was disorienting, though perhaps not as much as the first time Hikaru Aozora had woken up in another world. And of course he's still as he was on Mundus - all four, teen-looking feet of him, plus eight feet of dragonfly wings fully unfurled. Irritating.

An incantation and a snap of his fingers still summoned a glowing blue mage hand, so this form had its advantages - as much as his still having his powers outside of the game just raised further questions.

He takes book after book off the shelf to scan the title then replace it, trying to date and solidly locate this place. He is not having a good time of it.

"A Practical Treatise on Alchemy, Nicolas Flamel, 1383," he reads out loud. "Jane's Fighting Starcraft Recognition Guide, 2258. A Guide to Hungarian Cuisine, Van Helsing, 1897. The Auracite Cutter's Handbook -"

He stops dead, then shouts, "Gods above, this one's from Mundus!"

Chapter 2: Coffee Corner

So it is that this elfin man with a thin mustache, in his robes with red mantle and wizard hat, found his way to the break room and the coffee. He eagerly pours himself a cup of the ol' Potion of Focus using his mage hand - the table would be almost too tall otherwise - along with too much sugar and creamer. His glowing magical hand passes the cup to his unlit fleshy one, and he stirs, and he sips.

His expression quickly turns to a very put-upon one. "I think the coffee was better on Mundus," he kvetches, a little louder than he intended. "This is like making love in a canoe."

Chapter 3: Maker's Meetup

Hikaru naturally gravitates towards the 3-D printer, and the computer console near it. Soon he puts a thumb drive in the printer and has it produce a small sprue of what look like plastic miniatures, like one would use to play a wargame or tabletop RPG.

One looks like a female monk with three fox tails and ears to match. Another, a paladin in armor with a shock of curly hair down to her shoulders. Another, a butterfly-winged archer in a mantle, tunic and leggings, of the same apparent height and species as Hikaru.

He looks at his handiwork and sighs, crumpling, losing another three inches he can't afford.

Chapter 4: The Care And Feeding Of Your Pixie

The refectory - damn it, he's been on Mundus too long. The kitchens are a welcome sight after the questionable fare that greeted Hikaru and his fellow Editors. Even more so is the rice cooker and the ingredients to make Golden Curry with beef, which Hikaru gladly avails himself of.

He needs to climb up a stepstool then jump, fluttering his wings for more height, to grab things off the top shelves - which he kvetches about in muttered English and Japanese below his breath - but the stepstool is sufficient for the stove.

He proudly ladles the savory stew over a cup of rice - the portion he takes is certainly enough for a grown human man - and he sits down to eat his share with obvious satisfaction, wielding chopsticks with practiced precision.

Afterwards, he sits back, contented, hand on a full belly, and sighs. "Oh, how I have missed that," he says. "That's the taste of my childhood." To anyone else in the room, he adds: "Help yourself, it's impossible to make only enough curry rice for one."

Chapter 5: Science Fiction Double Feature
A lot of things are starting to make an uncomfortable amount of sense when the signup sheet arrives, but after a day of hesitation, Hikaru puts on his robe and wizard hat like a grown-ass man and signs up with a flourish of a quill, signing his name both in cursive and in neat kanji.

"If this means what I think it means..." he mutters, hand under chin, before trailing off with a shake of his head. "Alea jacta est, to quote my old DM. We'll see what comes of it."

Edited 2025-11-01 00:16 (UTC)

"Curry? Is it terribly spicy?" Mina asks, giving the stew a thoughtful sniff. It does smell delicious. "I always have to put less cayenne than what Mrs. Beeton calls for."

She begins spooning some over rice nonetheless.

"Thank you, for sharing," she adds, belatedly.

"It's very mild - sweet, even," Hikaru assures her. "Fragrant rather than hot spices - ginger, tumeric. A far cry from vindaloos. Or from India, really."

After a moment, he adds, "Quite welcome. I'd rather it didn't go to waste."

"I didn't realize there were curries in other places," Mina says, settling near the strange little person with the wings with her own bowl.

The flavor of the stew explodes on her tongue, and she hums appreciatively. Of course, she doesn't speak again until she's swallowed - she wouldn't be rude.

"Oh, that is delicious! Might I have the recipe? I can write it down in my journal."

"Wherever on Earth Englishmen - or Buddhists - have set foot, it seems to me." Hikaru says. "Though I'm sure my Free Company could find an anachronistically similar recipe from Yoakehon."

He pronounces it syllable by syllable: yo-ah-keh-hawn.

At her request, he sheepishly puts his hand on the back of his head. "Ah... Certianly. I'm not in the habit of making my own roux mix, but I remember how," he says. "I honestly buy boxes of it when I can find them."

He takes out a notebook and a ballpoint pen and starts to write it down.

"A box?" Mina laughs. "Wouldn't that be convenient."

He shows her the packaging, the other half of the solid block of roux left after Hikaru made his pot of stew.

"You still have to provide your own meat and vegetables, but the flavors of the gravy are the hardest part anyway," he says, then hands Mina the recipe. His handwriting is the neat and functional print of someone in the habit of drawing and labelling blueprints, though his spelling is regrettably American.

“What a novel idea,” Mina says with a laugh. She does enjoy her modern conveniences.

She takes the recipe gratefully, pulling out her paper journal and tucking it within the pages. If Hikaru tries to sneak a peek, he likely won’t be able to decipher anything, as it’s written entirely in shorthand.

He observes this, the many lines of indecipherable notes, and then puts a hand to his lip, seemingly lost in thought.

“…you take your role as helpmeet and homemaker very seriously,” he finally says. “And it seems to me you take joy in it.”

“Of course,” she says, as though this was self-evident. If she feels a pang of guilt, if her mind flits, just for a moment, to a man not her husband, she conceals it completely.

“Jonathan and I are partners,” she continues. “We share one life, we work towards the same goals, his successes are mine - and vice versa. Neither of us holds with old-fashioned nonsense about sequestering women away and keeping them ignorant of things which affect their livelihood.”

See! She’s very modern, very forward-thinking. Clearly, she and Jonathan have had many discussions about this.

And there are still people in his time from his Earth who don't get that far.

"Good," he says. "If a mantle must be heavy, let it also be comfort and warmth to the one that wears it. And Gods know masculinity and femininity both are heavy mantles to wear."

A strange sentiment even in his time, especially since he seems to be speaking from personal, hard earned experience.

Mina isn't sure she understands what he means about masculinity and femininity being burdens - she's never thought about it, never had difficulty aspiring to her own ideal of womanhood, and has always been lucky enough to be surrounded by people who value and respect her as she is.

But she knows hardship.

"Life is full of difficulties," she says after a moment. "There's no avoiding it. If it's not financial, then it's a devastating illness, or an accident of fate, or something else which can't be foreseen. But truly a burden shared is a burden halved. That's why Jonathan and I share everything."

Well, nearly everything. And her soul does indeed feel particularly burdened about that.

For a moment, it seems like this diminutive man wants to say something.

He closes his eyes and says something else.

“I would like to exchange recipes with you while we’re here, madam Harker. I’m a bachelor, at present, of limited means; if I’m to have good food I must often make it myself.”

Besides, he has access to something resembling a proper kitchen now.

(no subject)

starandhope - 2025-11-04 02:41 (UTC) - Expand

Scene?

extrasaltypotato - 2025-11-04 02:50 (UTC) - Expand

Scene!

starandhope - 2025-11-04 03:25 (UTC) - Expand

Aphra recognizes that sound -- Mama Rei was the sort to resort to Japanese when she didn't know an English word, and Aphra had picked up some words from that. She had spent several years eating Mama Rei's cooking, or assisting in the kitchen with her and trading recipes. Mama Rei's cooking had been adapted to what could be found in circa-1950 America, so it was sometimes an adventure. But this kitchen seems to have far more variety, so Aphra guesses that it is what the chef intended. As does the comment about his childhood.

"Thank you," she says. She is going to have to estimate the proportions of rice and stew unless Hikaru wants to offer guidance. (Alas that curry was a post-war Japanese dish, so Aphra has no experience with it -- Mama Rei had emigrated around 1920 or so.)

She has questions about who the stranger is, but she'll save them for after she sits down. "Do you mind joining me to eat?"

"Of course," he says. "It would be wasted otherwise. And I'd enjoy company."

It appears that Hikaru used a specific bowl to measure his rice - it's still next to the cooker, if that helps Aphra portion it.

"It's been quite a day for all of us, hasn't it?" Hikaru says, in a heroic attempt at small talk.

Aphra makes a guess at how much curry to add on top, tastes it... then adds some salt. Nothing personal, Hikaru, but most food tastes under-salted to her.

"Yes. I can't say that I've had a day like it."

She'd been kidnapped before, but not with the sense of dislocation, or at least some indication of who her captors were and what they wanted in the short term (largely quiet cooperation).

That’s what it’s there for; he’s not offended. Salt was expensive on Mundus anyway: he errs on underseasoned.

“That I have, before coming here, is a testament to my peculiar luck,” Hikaru observes, tone positively dessicated. “I don’t recommend the experience of waking elsewhere.”

"I'll count myself as lucky that I missed this one, then," Aphra said. "What would your experience recommend?"

“Seek out friends and allies - from before your awakening if possible, and new ones where you can,” he says. “Do not dismiss it as dreaming or fantasy, and assume your actions retain their consequences. Secure your basic needs - food, drink, shelter, hygene; thankfully, these seem well provided for here. And never cease asking questions about where we are and why you’re here, even when you think you’ve found acceptable answers.”

It’s all practical, hard-won advice from his personal experiences.

Aphra nodded. "Well, I don't think any of us were here before the first of us awakened. And I don't recognize any of you."

“No,” Hikaru says, slumping a little in his chair - even shorter than usual. “I’ve met one person I know from my second world here, by reputation - but none of my friends from my Earth.”

Aphra tilted her head. "Either that is a very common name for the world of one's origin, or we are from the same place."

“Or,” he says gently, “we are from very similar worlds, or different eras. I’ve met a quite formidable woman from the Victoran age here, and my Earth is in what we call the Virtual era, 2047 AD.”

Says the winged gnome in the robes of a Renaissance college professor.

She'll focus on that later. "I am from 1949 AD." The clothing can be explained as passing fashion. His size and wings... well, that Aphra was having more trouble with. While her people called typical humans 'men of the air', it was not meant that literally -- more that they lived their lives in open air, rather than under the see or in deep caverns.

But... well, she'd recalled the newsreels of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the constant rumors of Soviet spies seeking to duplicate the feat. Her people had some knowledge of the future, that humanity's tenure on Earth would last for at least a little while beyond 1949, but hearing that someone was from a century in her future was a reminder that maybe the new ways of fighting war wouldn't immediately doom the people she cared about (or at least those above water).

“Right after the second World War? My condolences,” he says. “If it’s any consolation, my timeline has not seen a third, though we came distressingly close in the 2020’s.”

He shudders. The less said about his coming of age - and transitioning - during the Screaming Twenties, the better.

“This isn’t my first time being taken to another world, though I hope to return home as I was.”