The Infinite Library

by Kane X Faucher

  I was gaining in courage and irritation; I would not be deterred from these acts designed to frighten me away from my search. I resurrected my computer from its mechanical nap and searched via the internet. Having found a full copy of the Meditations online, I read and read until I hit upon exactly what I was looking for in the fifth meditation: “... because I cannot conceive a mountain without a valley, it does not follow that there is any mountain or valley in existence, but simply that the mountain or valley, whether they do or do not exist, are inseparable from each other.” I immediately and in great haste scrawled down an analog to this argument:

  What I know:

  Libraries are finite (in this world).

  I cannot conceive of an infinite library.

  Libraries and finitude are inseparable.

  It is the relation of one to another that is essential to both.

  The flaw in this reasoning was that I was making a proper subject (library) and an attribute (finitude) equivalent. In Descartes' formulation, there are two proper subjects: mountains and valleys. These two subjects had to be codependent in some way, where they imply one another. It is called a biconditional. Expressed in logical form: (If x then y) + (if y then x). At least this is what my shabby recollection of my intro to logic course during my undergraduate furnished me.

  Mountain and valley. Man and his shadow. Matter and vacuum. Each of these concepts seemed inseparable, and perhaps this very idea of a mountain without a corresponding valley was one of those fortune cookie thought-provokers or the starting line of a Buddhist meditation. One hand clapping. Trees falling in the woods with no listeners. I had to perhaps reason that either there was a serious Eastern bent to the formulation of mountains sans valleys, or that it was just a fanciful and cutesy jape.

  I gave it a bit more thought. How would Descartes go about proving the existence of the Library, if given that task? I thought back to all the dilute Neo-Platonism I had been reading in the Backstory – it became clear to me, doubtful it would be to others. Descartes has set himself up with the task of hyperbolic doubt: he will place in suspension the existence of everything. He comes to the quick and circumspect proof that he must exist because he thinks, the old cogito. That isn't enough, he says... what if there is an evil demon deluding me? Well, says Descartes, if there was an evil demon doing that, then that is more proof of the existence of the self since the demon has to be deceiving someone. So what of the external world? How do we know it exists and we're not brains in vats? Descartes uses plenty of proofs from ironclad math. There are perfect ideas in the world, and perfection can only belong to the Good, and demons are not good, and so therefore it must be furnished by some entity – God – and that error is just our senses deceiving us and the cursed gift God gave humans in having free will.

  Replacing God with Library, I retraced the argument. The Library, like God, is the guarantor of all Order, itself being ordered, perfect, and complete (possessing all possibilities). Readers cannot read everything, so the free will of the reader may lead to the reading of misleading texts, or the fabrication of erroneous interpretations. My reasoning was hollow, but it was compelling to me.

  Another email:

  Gimaldoon -

  'Tis I, your Employer writing in, seeing how you fare. How are the kids, the wife, the speculative investments on the shipping lanes?

  Any-hoo, enough feigning politeness. I have another job for you. Two books have gone poof, but fortunately nothing disappears from the Library without giving us a clue. I should very quickly add that you will be performing this task gratuit. Why? Well, I think you can gather why once you give these titles their scan. I need not give you the specs since you already have them on hand:

  First: Backstory of Gimaldi's Finis Logos

  Second: 7th Meditation: Mountains without Valleys.

  You won't have to travel very far to re-acquire these (unless you have done something extremely stupid ON TOP of doing something unlawful and deceptive). I expect their prompt return by... hm... shall we say TOMORROW? Is that good for you? Would it be okay to pencil that into the agenda, ol' chap? Of course it would! Angelo will be by to pick them up. You know, good help is so hard to find. First the whole visiting Setzer (”how did he know?!” you were asking yourself. You cheeky goose! - I felt sorry for you and just had to reveal that I knew you did the deed), and then this flagrant act of theft. Sigh. Gimaldi, Gimaldi... I am sure you have not come to any revelatory conclusions in having those pilfered volumes in your filthy possession, but rather multiplied them a thousandfold. See what vanity and curiousity mixed produces? A toxic cocktail, for sure! Well, let's just settle accounts and all that: this is your last service you shall perform for me; you're fired. Oh, that sounds awful! What is the euphemism of the day? “Declared Redundant”, “Downsized”... Well, boots to you, Gimaldi. We can't all evolve from the lowly state of being born as oafs.

  Oh, and be sure to be at home when Angelo arrives (should I add: “with the books”?). As you fairly know already, Angelo is a very determined employee.

  Ciao!

  -C

  Who were the mysterious figures who called on the telephone, hammered upon the door, and raided my apartment? I could only guess that Angelo had already been dispatched, but if that were the case, he would have already re-acquired the books I stole. Or perhaps there was principle attached to this – that Castellemare ordered Angelo not to pluck the books back as if they should be given back willingly. And, perhaps as well, to humiliate me as the books changed hands, being caught in flagrante delicto with the stolen goods. The problem was that I had no real sense of what they considered appropriate justice. The paranoia in me stated that it would not just be a simple matter of transferring the books and goodbye. What if Castellemare wanted his pound of flesh? It was not like he would give me adequate warning if he meant to acquire it.

  The thought of escape seemed ridiculous, yet necessary. I had my suspicions that Angelo was already in the city, and was most likely staking me out. A sudden act of fleeing may have made matters worse. It was not yet the fateful “tomorrow” Castellemare underscored. There were a few dribbling hours left until midnight, perhaps enough time to hatch a plan. Definitely, I was spooked, and I knew someone as dubious in character and dubious in changing roles instantly like Angelo would stop at nothing to achieve his task... To fail meant to be fired. However, what was I spooked about? Certainly, Angelo could physically overpower me, and even if I gained a lucky hand, his cunning would defeat me. This I assumed, but knew with some fair degree of probability that his job occasionally entailed a bit of fisticuffs.

  I tried to put myself in the mind of Castellemare – a vibrantly chaotic abyss, no doubt, swarming with enigmas. What did he think I might do if I refused to return the books? What if I decided to keep possession of them and flee? And what if I were successful? Where would I go? If there was one thing I was sure truly bored Castellemare, it was most likely the predictability of human beings. He would most likely deduce that I would go to his enemy, Setzer. And, in all honesty, I had been quite seriously considering it. But Setzer was a certifiable madman: in being denied access to the infinite library, he tried to compensate for the loss by constructing one of his own, a workshop entirely geared toward sabotaging the original. To flee from one madman to another didn't seem to me to be a feasible plan, especially since I was now craving a return to that banal normalcy I had so long ago rejected.

  Although I had to hash a quick plan, I could not resist pondering over another problem. What was the true nature of the relationship between Castellemare and Setzer? Was their animosity faked, perhaps as a means of testing the loyalty of employees? Had Castellemare never trusted me in the first place and so assigned Angelo to tail me? All possible, but none of these possibilities really added up. Besides, why would I assign trust to Setzer when he and Castellemare were, despite antithetical roles, chummy enough to sip wine and play piquet together?

  To be on the lam for stealing books that did not
technically exist in this world. It was too absurd. But perhaps I had discovered too much in picking these exact texts... Or perhaps Castellemare assumed that I had discovered something too much that endangered a plan of his... a plan involving me. Or perhaps a plan I would have the power to prevent. I simply did not know the answer, but I certainly did not want to meet with Angelo. For all I knew, Castellemare wanted me to flee so as to better realize whatever plan he had in mind. I was becoming dizzy with speculation and had to focus on the concrete: what was I going to do? More agonizing was my firm understanding that, all things considered, I was thoroughly unimportant, and so undeserving of being thrust into this warped mystery. But, again, thrust by circumstance into this arcane arrangement, I had to figure out what I could do.

  Option one: stick around and take my chances with Angelo. Decision: give back the books. Possible outcome one: to be done with the whole thing. Possible outcome two: violence and even death from revenge. Option two: flee. Possible outcome one: be tracked by Angelo, incurring perhaps worse. Possible outcome two: successful escape. If I chose the second option, where would I go? Possibility one: Setzer, but he could be in cahoots with Castellemare, or Castellemare would track me there. Possibility two: random location, go incognito for a while. Possible outcome three: could be tracked regardless, but offers potential hope of not being found.

  It seemed to me then that the best option was to attempt an escape, for both could have possibly resulted in violence or death at the hands of Angelo, but there seemed to be more of a chance if I fled. And that is what I did, or attempted to do.

  As I was consolidating my possessions into the category of the purely necessary and transportable, I thought of places to nest myself for a while. There was enough money in my account to skip the country, to take a flight anywhere. I called for a cab to pick me up at the front and made haste to leave just a few minutes after midnight. As I opened the door, I came face to face with Angelo, who was picking his teeth.

  “Going on a merry little jaunt, guv'nor? Had a feeling you'd try to take a powder.”

  Frozen in place, and stammering to respond, he draped a leather-jacketed arm over my shoulders and led me back into my apartment, taking care to close and lock the door behind us. He deposited me upon my reading chair and paced toward my window, breathing heavily as if measuring precisely what he was going to say. I felt as I did as a child when my father was so livid yet tried to keep his rage in check just long enough so that the seething within him could build up enough momentum for a full onslaught. It was that sort of tension in knowing that father would let fly, and the anticipation of violence was perhaps worse than the act itself.

  “We have a very serious problem,” Angelo finally announced, still looking out the window. “A very serious problem.”

  “I suppose it wasn't wise for me to make a run for it,” I offered as if to break the logjam of his doubtless prepared and long rehearsed spiel.

  “Not wise? It was beyond stupid. You perhaps have no idea what deep, dark shit you're in. Very deep. very dark. You know,” he began, changing tack. “I never did like you. Right from the start you looked to me the pretentious poof. Stuck up like you're nobility.”

  “I think you stated that I had a pickle up my ass, but I may be paraphrasing.”

  “You're taking this quite calmly for someone in your perilous position! If I were you, I'd shut the fuck up.”

  “Are you delving into this narrative of how you never liked me in order to steel yourself to do me in? Looking to rationalize your way to courage?”

  “You're unbelievable. Where was I before you so rudely interrupted me? Ah, yes, how I never liked or trusted you. I know what you think of me, but like a fool you judge entirely by appearances. It makes you the biggest rube. I don't look the fancy-pants scholar you affect – and it is merely affectation, I might add. Do you want to compare accreditation, kiddo? I have two doctorates from more credible institutions than you, for one, but I don't need to use my intellect to browbeat others in order to feel better about myself. Your insecurity issues are fucking common. I have no interest in transitioning you to become a real human being or resolve the issue of your mummy not loving you enough. Now... This is a serious situation. We are not talking about an overdue public library book fine here, and the consequences are not going to be taking away your fucking library card. You contravened a very serious law here, man. You didn't just rob my employer through something trivial like pocketing his snuff box – you violated the very idea of the Library. You freely pissed all over the security we perform in protecting the contents of the Library from being passed around and read by you jelly-fingered idiots. You never did get it, did you? - And quit looking at me like I'm some ridiculous Kelly, you git. You endangered much more than you know. You fucked with things in a serious way. Who gave you the license and the entitlement to not only snatch those books, but to feast your greedy eyes on 'em? You fancy yourself above the law? You think curiousity alone is enough to pardon your actions? There isn't any amnesty for fucking curiousity, and you're not even a smidgen as bright as you think you are.”

  “You've come for the books. You can quit the lecture.”

  Angelo's eyes widened with angry incredulity, which was followed by his sudden kicking over of my work desk. I steadied myself the best I could.

  “I can what now?”

  “And I'm not giving the books back. I've decided to keep them,” I said, testing against better judgement what would come next. Silence.

  “You know what? You're the type of worm who would have xeroxed them anyway. You lack any shred of respect. You're an audacious sot, aren'tcha?”

  “I pass on the lecture, and I'm not keen on the personal attacks,” I said, surprised by my own steely calmness.

  “Oh, really?”

  “And your theatricals don't amuse me either. Nor your dialect that tries to pass itself off as Brit slang. Let me set things straight for you. I refuse to live in mystery and fear like you and Castellemare would have me do. I will not be intimidated in any way. Personally, I think you play your 'edgy smart and tough guy' role too heavily that it comes off unconvincing and false. You don't scare or impress me. You may know a little more than me about the Library, but not that much more, and only as much as Castellemare tells you. In all honesty, you're just a hired goon who is having a hard time reconciling his low-born task with his pretensions to intelligence. That's your big chip on the shoulder. I am not indentured to you or Castellemare in any way. I have my options.”

  “Run to Setzer, you mean?”

  “That's for me to know. Right now, I am going to ask you politely, but firmly, to leave my apartment and never bother me again. You will not get the books. You can tell your employer that you failed to re-acquire them because the current owner refuses to relinquish them. Perhaps I will return them once I am done reading them. I care not about any of the peril you speak of.”

  “That the way it's going to have to be?”

  “I'm afraid so. And if you get any fool notions about attacking me, I will kill you,” I said evenly, surprised at the way it just leapt out.

  “Kill me? You? Undernourished geek?”

  “This is the final stand I make. I am going away for a while and I'm not going to say where. I am going on vacation. I will not be followed. Get out.”

  Angelo let a smirk twist upon his face but did not leave.

  “You think you can just lay down your law and all will abide?”

  “The moon is not in your favour, Angelo. It is in mine. I am no longer spooked by shadows of men.”

  “You know not what you have wrought. So be it -”

  “I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have a cab waiting outside and must go. Let me show you out.”

  I brazenly placed my hand on his shoulder to lead him out, but he violently recoiled, giving me a shove.

  “You little fucker!” he stormed. “You don't just walk away.”

  “I do, and I am. I am leaving,” I responded with
an equally stern rise in my voice.

  He pulled out a switchblade. It was almost comical. I immediately opened my shoulder bag with the books in it, pulled out one of the volumes and held it like a shield between us.

  “Let me ask you,” I asked, barely able to mask the quavering in my voice. “I understand that the existence of these books here in this world presents an inconceivable danger. But... what would be the cost of destroying them, so irreplaceable in the Library?”

  I began backing away into the kitchen, and with one hand behind me and the other still shielding against the slowly advancing Angelo, I turned on the gas stove. Blue flames licked the air.

  “Books for ransom?” he said.

  “Put away the knife and leave.”

  “You're just playing for time.”

  “I said for you to put the knife away and leave, now.”

  I steadied the book close to the flame, seriously intent on an act of biblioclasm. I waited to see if he would take my bluff.

  “Your time will come,” he said, followed by the click of the blade nesting itself back into the handle. Angelo backed out of the kitchen and left the apartment. I turned off the stove and hastened to meet the cab already waiting outside for some time. We sped away toward the airport just as the rain was starting to slash across the slick streets, and the moon had been entirely occulted by a sickly yellowish nighttime tinge. Once I arrived at the airport, I was able to book a last minute ticket to Madrid, boarding time in an hour. I spent the hiatus reading this next chapter of the Backstory: