Page 6 of Florescentia

Occasionally, a flutter across the ceiling. Between the books, behind the shelves, possibly dozens of bats.

Flying foxes of many species were just as important as their other night companions, owls. While owls were hailed as being the wise ones, ancient beings of knowledge in some tales, the bats were the protectors. They ate the pests that might want to eat the paper, the bindings. While some were modern printings of important works, others were so old they were bound from leather and isinglass. At night, thick leather curtains were pulled across the shelves for an added layer of protection. The substrate floors were optimal for cleanup, and replacing the volume of sand was inexpensive.

The bats were more of a novelty now, with the modern use of arsenic as pest control. But they had inhabited this library first; it would be cruel to send them off on their own.

At the end of the skyway, another arch, then into a small, wood-lined room. A large desk with slots behind it stacked as high as the ceiling. Pieces of paper traded to keep track of archival records. Also behind the desk, another door to the physical archives and the stairwell to the main floor of the Treasury—employees only.

The Treasury was actually comprised of many different departments, with a strict number of staff. Funding from the state was tight, so they made do by borrowing employees from different offices. The Treasury Library held the Archive and the conservationist. The Patent Office was in a different wing, then the mid-level municipal offices in another. The Treasury Library was the most tourist-ridden part. Just to get a glimpse at it, not even to touch any of the books.

I curled my fingers over the edge of the desk, flicking the greeting bell to the side.

Ding!

No faces yet.

Ding ding!

I tapped it again. Then another. Then—

“I am petitioning to do away with the bell!” A shout from behind the door.

“It’s still here, I shall ring away.” I tapped the bell again.

A tall, lean man slipped from behind the door, closing it a bit harder than was acceptable. His stare was sharp. Slicked-back black hair against a medium tan, which made the light green eyes all the more bright.

“Did you get my telegram the other day?” I asked.

“I did,” he sighed. “I’m not supposed to take personal visits during work hours.”

“I’m not personal. I can be business.” I smirked. “I can show you what I’ve been working on? For archival interests, of course.”

“All this time for playing with trinkets, and you still haven’t visited Father?”

I bit my cheek, leaning forward on the desk. “If you take me downstairs, we can talk all about my outstanding tasks. How about it, Maxim?”

“Right here isn’t good enough?”

“No! We need the gloomy darkness of the Archives, of course,” I teased. “It’s something new. You’ll be excited about it, trust me.”

His eyes narrowed, then he glanced over my head. A few moments of deliberation before his shoulders slumped and he jerked his head toward the door.

The permission granted me a release of excitement through sprightly feet and, surely, the widest smile I could contain.

Through the door, it was like an opening to a whole new world.

We stepped through into darkness, the smells of dusty wood and naturally distressed parchment.

My heels clicked on the metal stairs overlooking the impossibly tall shelves stacked neatly and efficiently in the musty warehouse. Each case of shelves rolled on a wheel and track, allowing for them to close against each other. This setup further allowed for one row to open at a time, conserving space for the Archives. The cases were so long that each one stretched to the entire other end of the warehouse. The weight made the cases impossible to move by yourself, enough to crush people if a case closed on top of them. Wheel systems on the ends of each case of shelves allowed them to be moved back and forth. Hundreds of thousands of artifacts were preserved with a strict use of biolight only.

The biolight was one of the best things we’d learned to utilize. Tiny bioluminescent plankton that gave off no damaging light waves, gentle on the eyes, and earth friendly. All you had to do was expose them to sunlight or, if that wasn’t possible, feed them a preformulated fertilizer, since they couldn’t make their own food without the sun. The mixotrophic organisms had been such a leap in bioenergy and natural electrification. Little microscopic blessings.

As we descended to the floor, the water lamps gave the illusion of being underwater. Maxim handed me a globe. The tiny plankton sloshed inside, giving off a brighter burn of blue with every disturbance. I never liked to shake them. I felt that it was rude in spirit, even if they had no brain function or feelings.

Maxim approached the shelves, guiding me down the narrow opening to the back of the room. My finger swept along the seams of the drawers, their numbers embossed in the paper identifiers. I could spend a hundred years in this very room, only to never get to know every artifact to its true potential by the time I’d passed. It was an honor to work at the Treasury, to be its guardian. Mother and Father were very proud of my baby brother for holding such an esteemed position. He’d been promoted last year to First Keeper of the Treasury.

“You can’t keep coming so often. I could lose my job.” His jaw clenched as he set down a couple of boxes on one of the many wide inspection desks.

“You sweat every time I’m here. Relax, be easy. I’m not here on ill intentions like some people.” I shrugged as I fished through my skirt pockets. “Look here.”