A Normal day at the Books:
The day I changed the world started like any other with the grating ring of my analog alarm clock my dad got me for my 26th birthday last year. I shut off the relic with a tactile *switch* and slid out of my cozy cushioned compartment for another day in the woods. That's what my job boils down to; working on my families homestead which is located in tepid northeast Alaskania and is home to a great many Preservo-Pods. We actually don't know how many there are what with some plots dating back to the great transition-the hundred years following OverMinds Awakening-or even before. After all, moms 3-times-a-great grandfather was supposedly one of the last grand archivists who tended the property back when it was what they called a "University" where people would actually congregate together and get each other's germs. Uck. She would be one too but the order died with him and all we have left are reams of coordinates with very vague descriptions that may or may not contain esoteric knowledge lost to the ages- if any at all, seeing as only a handful of the coordinates panned out with any original un-archived works for us to log.
Which brings us to my problem. We had just finished checking out a rotted pit from the last location in our current moldy, old as sin Coordinate dump book. This is usually not that big of a deal but this one was somewhat different and something about the way mom was acting made me ask. I just had to.
"I thought you'd be happy we can get this smelly thing over and done with seeing as the next one on our Itinerary can be handled without the reader."
She glanced up from the now empty book-splaying contraption she had been eyeing morosely while it was "wrapping" it for transport and responded in the affirmative,
"Yea I guess I should be but I can't help but feel a little let down seeing as this was the last one." She frowned as the preservo-shield sealed up the ancient volume in a non-deteriorating field wrapped around the ancient compedium.
Stolen story; please report.
"The last Whitley...they kinda look the same as any other Index after a while- but that one did smell like the real deal!" she rolled her eyes at me while we glanced at the ancient spidery script sharing my middle name and a faint hiss smelling vaguely of death escaped the machine as it finished its process.
"The last in a long line of historians, your grandfather was... So tragic that so many of his caches were lost to time before we could document their mysteries." She said as she again brought up the ever depressing reality of digging up preservo-pods:things break down-especially old things! So when a pod goes down it takes only about 2 decades before the contents become unrecoverable.
"Why don't you go and take it to long-term while I finish out this paperwork?" She innocently requested.
"Sure thing momma, I know these big boys give your poor old back the troubles, so I got it"
She frowned and after deciding not to chastise me for mentioning the unmentionable sent me away to have my fateful encounter.
I was CAREFULLY walking back to the main library when what I thought was just a retarded bird at the time against all rationale, just, randomely Kamakazied me! Now I can usually hold my chill with any of the wildlife around me-even having caught sight of a Grizzly Bear here and there throughout the years... HOWEVER- seeing as all predators would sooner eat themselves than eat a person after having had their genes edited to always respond to people with the "Flight" part of "Fight or Flight" which is apparently a "gross affront to nature" if you asked Mother(I don't know how the OverMind did it, just be glad Gene modification is highly regulated by humanities numero uno supercomputer) Shhh- also everything's fine so stop asking questions...As if you could ever stop a librarian from seeking out the truth!
That fine day truth took its own turn and sought me as I was divebombed by something that was supposed to be fleeing my very smell. I remember nearly getting scalped and throwing my hands up. Following that instinctual response I could only balk as the poor sealed Index was broken open by some dumb illiterate hawks stupid sharp talons. They ripped and detroyed the thin wrapping of my priceless artifact-a certifiable family heirloom- me, scream-crying as it was torn asunder and we all 3 fell to the forest floor in a heap of disintegrating vellum, drifting feathers and tears. Lots of tears.
