The Truth About The Many Worlds Of Printed Pages

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Siena loved and hated the city in equal measures.

The young woman looked beyond the round window of the airplane as it circled above the paved strip of ground stretching far beneath it, descended, then touched the ground with a bump, and continued to sail smoothly, slowing down even as it grew quieter, towards the terminal.

She recalled the years which she had spent here in London as an art history student, a thing her late grandmother had demanded. Grandma Laura used to love this city; she had spent a good part of her life here and had insisted on her beloved granddaughter living with her during her studies.

When she passed away suddenly at the end of Siena's second year of studies, Siena decided to finish the university here nonetheless, just as her grandmother had wanted. And, as the old, wise woman had predicted, or rather hoped, her grandchild fell in love with the city eventually. At least with some aspects of it.

Siena learned to treasure the endless possibilities London offered, its infinite number of museums, galleries, and theatres, and the constant stream of new people to meet. She loved all that nearly as much as she hated the too hectic pace and rhythm of life of the Londoners, the large quantity of tourists crowding, suffocating the place all year round, in any weather, and the city's awful public transport and ceaseless traffic.

In all honesty, Siena much preferred the more pocket-sized and peaceful Florence where she was born, grew up, and now worked as a high school teacher with a dream of becoming a curator of the Uffizi Gallery. She already missed her small flat with a view of the wide, languidly flowing river Arno and the picturesque medieval bridge, Ponte Vecchio. More than anything, she missed her Dante, whom she had had to leave in care of her elderly neighbour to be able to come here.

It had been almost two years since she had visited this place the last time, being talked into a weekend stay by her now ex-boyfriend. And she hadn't missed it much at all, Siena realised as she got off the plane. If it wasn't for that shady Bibliophiles' Society that her grandmother apparently used to work for... Just what they wanted from her, after all these years since her grandmother had passed away, was beyond her. Grandma Laura had never told her anything about it, and when she tried to research the Society now, when she received first their phone call, and later the letter inviting her to a meeting, she couldn't find anything about them online.

The Society sounded so very intriguing and mysterious that Siena couldn't refuse their invitation. Also, the more she thought about it, the more curious she became. There had been times, Siena's mum, who seemed to know a little more than her, said when she had brought the subject up the other day, when Grandma would vanish for days, weeks sometimes, because she had to do something for the Society. But not even her mum knew more than that. Maybe now Siena would solve Grandma Laura's mystery...

However, as she walked through the terminal to the arrivals' lounge where someone from the Society was supposed to meet her, she started to regret her rushed decision. She should have ignored that letter and stayed at home, she despaired, finding the place even more hectic, stressful, and full of annoying, excited tourists, than she remembered it.

"Watch out!" she called to a man who knocked into her from behind as he rushed past, but he did not hear her.

How could he, with that awfully loud music blaring from his earbuds?! How could anyone listen to music so loud? Siena liked music but as an ambient, sotto voce thing that didn't disturb her thoughts. And she much preferred complete silence when she was alone and reading.

She reached the appointed place and noticed a man clad in what looked like a driver's uniform, holding a sign raised high in the air, above the heads of the other waiting people.