Page 5 of Florescentia

“Keep waking the cat and I’ll throw you out!” a full voice boomed from the back room.

First, a thick hand grasped the doorway, then through the curtain appeared a wall of a man with the most impressive waxed mustache within five blocks.

“Throw me out, Samuele—then she will miss my bribes!” I exclaimed with a tease of sarcasm. From within my purse, I produced a braided herb rope.

The cat smacked her forehead on my hand, dragging her cheek along my fingers and then letting the end of the braid bristle against her teeth.

“It’s that fresh, huh?” Samuele sat down behind the counter, wheeling his chair closer so he could rest his arms.

“Straight from the garden. Nepeta is a favorite of my own regulars.” I held the rope firm for the cat as she chewed. “I’m just here for the fertilizer. The lights seemed dimmer, but it could just be them adjusting.”

“I told you all these new lightings are more of a hassle than naught. If you had told me you’d have to feed your lamps when I was a boy, I’d tell you to go take a piss,” he grumbled, yet he rummaged around in some boxes behind the counter for what I needed.

“All light needs to be fed. Oxygen feeds candles, the bulbs need electrification, and the plankton—”

“Yes, yes, food. I still don’t think they’re worth the maintenance. Can’t even light a mousehole with those.” The counter vibrated when he set an amber jug on the table.

Mealies Bio Fertilizer—Eat right to burn bright.

“The gas lamps and bulbs are unsightly—I like the glow.” I placed a couple of coins in his palm, relinquishing the braided treat for the cat in exchange for the heavy jug.

“Maybe you can invent something brighter, maybe something I don’t have to feed,” he joked, dropping the coins in his register with melodic chimes.

“My expertise is imaging, not lighting.”

“You need light for images, I thought?”

“Well . . .” I paused at the door, then finally lifted a shoulder. “Maybe I’ll add it to the list.”

“Tell Dorian to come by with you next time, so I can make sure the poor lad hasn’t ended up an experiment of yours!” he shouted after me.

I was already out the door, shaking my head.

My job was to think. My brain was my most important muscle, connecting synapse after synapse to give birth to new inventions, new ways of thinking and tinkering.

Yet, I’d still forgotten to think ahead and bring a wheeling basket for errands.

Jugs of liquid were heavy, that was no mystery. My forearms were burning from carrying the jug the last seven blocks.

“I’m here for the archivist,” I said, the bottle making a loud thud against the front desk’s wood.

“Ma’am, no outside material—”

I pushed the jug toward the woman. She almost grabbed it in her confusion, but she stopped when she saw my hands.

My throat tightened.

She stared from over the rim of her spectacles, then moved the jug with her fingers to avoid where I had touched it.

“That’s fine, hold it there, will you?” I massaged my arm, rolling my shoulder in its socket as I slipped past the desk.

There was no gold in the Treasury.

It contained something far more valuable.

Just past the lobby was an archway, a peek into the library. A skyway let you witness its awe without risk of damaging the artifacts. It stretched across the cathedral full of books, fifty feet above the ground.

Ceilings as high as any chapel, books tucked tightly into every surface area of the walls, shelves as plentiful as combs within a hive, and workers just as diligent as the bees that tended to them. Above, a classical scene depicting the animal patrons of the four seasonal constellations. There were no artificial lights in the original structure, so biolights were the easiest solution, the glowing plankton. Intense light would age the books faster. The biolights were far gentler, and a calming blue hue as well.