Based on the notes of Blaire Faraday
Mr. Darbinyan arrived in the afternoon, three days after our arrival. The perfected update that Wilbur made had caused the furnace of the locomotive to melt in itself and had taken a day to repair it. And while others would have seen this as a failure, Professor Linde seemed more interested in how to make the furnace more heat-resistant. Nevertheless, he had come to invite us to the induction assignment at the centre of “Archive City”, whatever that was.
—This should be the last thing before we begin our proper work here— he said, and guaranteed the shuttle bus would be back for us, before bolting to repeat the announcement to the other teams in their houses—.
We found on the dining table a letter from the Overseer, who I was surprised to know it was not Mr. Athenida, guaranteed us about a week of free time after the induction, so we could have time to get familiar with the base before beginning proper work. This was probably so we wouldn’t get lost on our way to places; for example, where this “Archive City” was.
The library at the house was provided with a large selection of maps on top of the bookshelves, and had at least two of Terra Nova. One of them, titled “regions of Terra Nova”, marked the different areas of the place, which were thirteen by my account. So, we were on the upper right corner of the island, and Archive City was a region by the middle of the left shore. The other, was the half of a directory, the same drawing of the island than the last, but instead of the region demarcations, were instead at least ten thousand numbers cramped together. You had to look for the number in a large volume that looked like a phonebook, and that would give you the name of the artefact you are seeing in the map. Though, when looking in the book, most of the numbers were blank.
—Any news on where the centre is? —Ortiz entered, he had been missing since the arrival at the Base, and seeing him was an unpleasant surprise.
—Just by looking, the centre is somewhere in that place there— I pointed following a short river that began in a lake with an island in the middle—. It’s two-thirteen, which is...
I extended my hand to grab the book, but Ortiz was quicker. He stumbled his way through the pages until he found it. When he did, he did a double take of the number and what said in the map. He frowned, which game me a moment to take the book from his hands and have a look for myself. I then knew why he was so aghast with the place.
If the Ivory Tower was an old myth, places like the Library of Alexandria were lost marvels.
—That can’t be right— he said, looking over my shoulder—. It burned! At least two times under Caesar! It has to be a misprint, ain’t it?
—No misprint if the theory about Mr. Athenida is true—I said—. You’ve heard it?
—Which one?
—The one that says he’s immortal and has had a foot in every event in history. A part of that theory said he saved most of what the Library was inside the Ivory Tower. If he took as much as he could, in theory would be able to rebuilt it.
—That has to be nonsense.
He scoffed and went away, to my luck, but left me thinking for a while. I scoffed at the idea of an immortal Mr. Athenida a few chapters ago, but it was the quickest shortcut to the Library of Alexandria still existing in some form. The place of all untouched knowledge of the ancient world, before the printing press, before the abbeys copying by hand, before the Schism, before we were erased from human history and had to make our apart. Wow, that got depressing fairly quickly.
The shuttle bus arrived at four thirty. Mugsy decided to go by her own means, which meant she and Brigitte followed us in the former’s Hispano-Suiza. I can only imagine her frustration through the trip, tailgating a chunk of metal going ten miles per hour, while slowly picked up the other three groups and went towards Archive City.
Crossing a wooden bridge, following the line of the river upstream. The Library of Alexandria wasn’t like anything I’d imagined. It wasn’t an old Egyptian-style building, or Greek one if the Ptolemaic Dynasty had managed to renovate it before the fire. No, this was a large and tall concrete construction made in a modern way, as it was part of the buildings rebuilt after the War. It was grey, rectangular, with squared columns without a base, a revolving glass door and two bronze lions guarding the sides of the steps. Perhaps I was wrong, and the name was just to make reference the old place, and I was a monkey’s uncle. As soon as the thought went through my mind, I saw something else, the gas lamps on the corners of the building blinked and were electric fixtures before I knew what was happening.
—Oh, I get it— I said out loud while walking down the bus—, it’s self-updating. As current as it can be…
The building took the entirety of the small island. The only thing that could fit besides it, was the small parking lot were only our bus was, and one end of the bridge. Not even the bus for the Archive Department was there, which seemed odd, but whatever. I’m not the one coordinating this thing.
Mr. Darbinyan was the last one coming down from the bus, and nonchalantly explained what I suspected. The original Library had been saved in pieces and, when the project of building Terra Nova was completed, it had been brought here and reassembled. As soon as the façade was done, the interior repaired itself and modernized to reach the current century.
—That’s why this looks so…grey— he said, looking up—. Apparently, it’s going to be a couple of good years for concrete, glass and steel.
We went through the revolving doors into a large lobby. Rows and rows of bookshelves and books, desks and chairs. We followed Mr. Darbinyan through the empty place until we reached an archway to a small theatre with a stage and about forty chairs. At the stage, like a prop, was a huge mirror shaped like a tube, so it reflected the whole place, and connected through wires to a bowl with water, nails, and a large ball of golden yarn.
—Okay. As you know, I’m the Head of Retrieval— he said, standing next to the contraption, while we occupy our places in the chairs—. And if I assume correctly, most of you had the time to share the rumour that I wasn’t the original candidate for the job, right?
Most of us assented and he continued.
—However, even when you are dead, doesn’t mean you’re leaving this job— he made an electric sparkle appear inside the water, which made the yarn light up and gyrate—. A few decades ago, the woman who was supposed to do this job created the “testimonies”, a copy of the conscience used to write the reports more efficiently. Alice, your turn.
The mirror began to glow, as a lot of us leaned forward in our chairs in expectation. We began hearing static, similar to trying to syntonise the radio, but the thing became clearer and cleared. It was a woman in a coughing fit. The image started to appear as the sound became clearer. It didn’t seem to be a mirror on the stage anymore, but was there and was visible in a slight reflection if you moved your head. If you remained still, however, you would’ve seen a blond young woman in a puffy Victorian blue dress, sitting in a mossy green velvet armchair.
—Oh shit— I said before hearing her, and being shushed by the others—. Sorry, sorry.
—I’m so sorry for not being there today, well, technically I am here, but that’s beside the point— she coughed again—. Oh, I’m sorry, this was recorded in a very bad day for me. For those who don’t know me, I’m Alice Athenida: key researcher at Sophia, member of the Retrieval Team and your run-of-the-mill one woman wonder. From 1870 to, I don’t know, I’m assuming a couple of years before this. Tir, is that right?
—Yes, Alice. You’re missing since the mission in spring of 1918— Mr. Darbinyan said, having sat in an empty chair at the front row—.
—So that puts me at 68 years old when I’m gone. At least I hope I had a nice funeral— she tensed her lips for a moment, but regained her smile and continued: —. Now, should we begin?
At that moment, it was clear that the job was more…deathly than we’ve expected. It is one of those things that seems better in paper than in reality. Because in paper the procedure is to get to the point where the artefact’s been activated, stop it, pack it, take it to being processed and then going to the Archives to have our memories recorded in a testimony. To hear it coming from the lips of a woman who’s been missing for five years gave it a bit more gravitas. It was still hopeful, until she spoke about the disappearances and deaths “on the line of duty”. Besides her and Jules Verne (I was surprised to know he worked here), everyone else was either missing or dead.
—Well, now I am too— the sudden realization confused her—. Boy, talking as the embedded conscience in harder than it seems. Tir, tell me the new transportation system is working?
—I’m afraid not, Ms. Alice— the man seemed coy, as he seemed to felt like an underling below her—. We will have to go with Plan-B for now.
—Support? — she asked, the man nodded—. Damn. Shouldn’t we get Egeria then?
—She’s finishing working on Babel by order of Daedalus. We should go there after this.
—Leave it to my father to make the situation more dire than it is— Ms. Athenida said with a grim tone—. So, while the Transportation Department finishes to sort things out with the new system, everyone will be performing support to the other departments, while also knowing the law of the land.
Support. As Mr. Darbinyan explained, when Alice disappear after saying her goodbyes, even though all of us were hired under the Retrieval Department, in our files were also a “can lend support to” section. This meant that we could work on other departments which suited our abilities better while on the base and while the so-called “system” was under development. My group shared a look, confused, but we kind of knew where would be resorted during this period.
—Don’t worry, this doesn’t overrule what the Overseer said. The process will begin in a week, if the system is not working properly by then.
—Yes. We are the frontline—I hear Dr. Tang muttered next to me—. Please, move on.
Since I was one of the people sitting in the last row, I saw a wall panel in a corner to slightly slide to make way for a woman in a tan trench coat and curly dark hair. She sat in a corner, and didn’t say a word until Mr. Darbinyan finished explaining the situation. From the door we had come from, another woman, an elder lady with an antiquated green dress and grey white-stricken hair in a bun. She smiled at Mr. Darbinyan and accompanied him at the stage.
—Sorry for the delay— she said—. I’m Flora Gati, head of Support. I will have smaller meetings with each of the teams so I can help with the temporary transition. I’ll begin with the Nihteard team, if it isn’t much trouble.
We followed Mrs. Gati through another archway into a conference room. For some reason, she seemed taller at each step she did, by the time she stood at the end of the oval table, was about a foot taller and towering above all of us. We sat and she pulled a small notebook from a hidden pocket on her dress, and as I sat next to where she was, I could see a large number of names, ours included, scribbled hastily in the page. Seemed they had planned all already; but then again, I also saw “Call Queen Victoria” in one of the notes, so make that what you wish.
—Let’s see here— she said, squinting at the page—, ah, yes. Seems we have a bit of a patchwork here; a few of you are going to Archive City with Mx. Bonheur, but I also see Transportation with Dubois, Protection with Al-Amil, and Research at Dr. Afal. Yes, that’s right.
Turned up, Dr. Tang and I were the ones sent to the Archives, well, where we were. Ursula and Iggy were in Research, in the building next door, that I remembered seeing on our way there. Mugsy and Professor Linde, two people I wouldn’t put together making a salad, much less working together, were sent to the other end of the island, at Transportation Hub (known as “The Hub”). Ortiz, I’m assuming because of his work in the tombs of Egypt, was sent to reinforce the spells and hexes used to keep the artefacts in place.
She also asked for something that was more personal, but was lacking in our personnel files: our races. I don’t mean white, black, Chinese, Latino, or whatever. No, that is somehow irrelevant versus something that, in the magical community, is more segregationist; the subraces we belong to. It wasn’t really an impolite question, but a needed one to make our accommodations more manageable at the base. So, after a couple of minutes of us saying what we were, and she taking notes for the files, everything was out there in the open. I’m a fae, to the surprise of almost everyone there, since I don’t exhibit my wings on a regular basis, using concealment clothing; Ursula as a werewolf, Dr. Tang is a necromancer, which only caused in me more questions, Mugsy was a demigod (a child of Apollo it seemed, though she wasn’t specific), Linde was an alchemist, but I can’t recall what Ortiz or Iggy were. The first due to lack of my own interest, and the latter because of a sneezing fit I had that caused me to leave the room for a moment.
—I think that would be all for now— Mrs. Gati said when I came back—. I still have to talk with Cernunnos, I mean Dubois, regarding how are you going to move through the island without much of an issue. But that’s a problem for my little head. Now, I need to speak with the other teams, so off you go! Feel free to stay at the theatre or the hall, please.
With that, we were ushered out of the conference room, with the Agrippa team entering after us.
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