Blackridge Institute (wlw) - DA 1

Chapter 8

'Library' was the word they used for convenience. What it was was an underground archive spanning centuries, a structure that crawled and writhed upward, reaching for the sun, as new sections were added by newer people and the index grew larger. It was a labyrinth of knowledge, combated only by the librarians making valiant efforts to organize the mess.

But the librarians could not map everything out, try as they might. Some parts were too old, too obscure, and too obsolete to have been prioritized. Some were left as they were, forgotten to the ravages of time. It didn't help that the people who built it in the first place began building deep underground.

It called to the chosen few, of course: curious human doctors, angels with something to prove, devils who swore they weren't bitter. People like that.

Solomon brought a steel crowbar and Cas had objected, but obviously she hadn't been convinced to leave it behind and now used it to prod at the walls.

"Can you not," said Casandra, as Solomon clanged it against the stone. "You're going to break something."

"It's stood the test of time for uncounted millennia. It's not going to break if I poke it." They were a part of the maze that had been a half hour's walk into the bowels of the library, where the walls were no longer paneled wood and instead rough stone hewed by masons who could have definitely done better. "And I wouldn't need to be poking around if Harlan just told us."

They had spoken again to Harlan Xate, who babbled in incoherent panic when they asked exactly where he had found the brain, and had gone near hysterical when asked if he thought there was anything of interest about it. They had left before Xate could black out.

Solomon was being sour, which was unusual, so Casandra found herself trying to make small talk and was at a loss. "It is highly unusual that Xate was so upset about the brain. Even for himself."

"Upset? Understatement. I could barely stand being in the room, his brain was trying to pulverize mine, and I think that that was just collateral damage." Solomon, in her passion, struck the steel prod into the wall. It went in too deep in the stone, gouging out a hole. "Oops."

Casandra took the crowbar from her, hefted it in one hand, and brought it down again.

"Now hold on, you said no breaking—" But Solomon's words petered out as more stones gave way under the beating. More importantly, it collapsed away from them. There was empty space on the other side.

Soon the hole was big enough to peek through, after a truly excruciating amount of time and effort with just one crowbar. They jostled to look, shoving each other away.

"Shine a light in there," commanded Sol.

"With what, Solomon?"

"I don't know. Your radiance, jackass." But she had stopped vying and let the angel poke her face through the hole. "What do your elf eyes see?"

"What?"

"What?" retorted Sol, in a higher pitch.

"I have good vision in the dark, but it has its limits. It's pitch dark in there, and we can't break through this wall right now. But I see lots of glass, like bottles. And faint glowing further away. Bioluminescence? Plankton?"

"Plankton go in the sea. And get away from there, it's probably mushrooms. I'm scared of spores. They've not got anywhere to go for untold centuries, and this hole is an expressway into the outside world. Stop inhaling that air," said Sol, dragging them both away.

"We'll come back. We'll break this down and explore." Solomon was trying to cover the breach with rocks and was not doing a very good job.

"As soon as possible. This is marvelous," said Casandra, about to destroy Sol's efforts and stick her head back into the hole. Sol yanked her hands back.