Chapter 1
February 15, 0350 ATG (After The Gate)
-We are always finding new discoveries from the ashes of our recent past. What we do with those discoveries, and the power that knowledge grants is… a precipice we should cautiously approach. For, what better purpose for archeology itself then the betterment of our society.
– Grand councilor Moff Harkin. May 3 0010 ATG-
In a dusty treasure trove that is Erik’s personal and unkempt library, a shuffling of paper could be heard as a stack of maps toppled over. It was soon followed by a string of inventive curses. In an earlier age, this knowledge would have been common place, and taken for granted, but in the here and now, those maps were priceless. To be more accurate, they were actually complete and pristine atlases, which contained whole maps of their respective states. It gave names to the dilapidating ruins of pre-amnesia civilization cities and towns, as well as an accurate way to measure distance.
Why was that so important? Well? No one has any memory prior to the last 350 years. That was also why people like Jonas Wagner Skarts were highly valued. He was an educated man in his field, who just happened to be skilled in reading and duplicating maps. It was also the key that kept driving his success, which in turn allowed him to pursue his passion. Archeology.
The mountain of maps shifted as Jonas emerged from his geographical burial with his prize in hand. He brought it over to a wooden desk. Upon it lay multiple sets of ink pots of different colors and multiple different writing utensils. The book in his hand was a damaged atlas in desperate need of transcription. Setting it down next to the blank atlas next to it, he set to work. Erick May have sworn him to secrecy to this place’s existence, and he was forbidden to leave until his task was done, but he wasn’t forbidden from perusing any of the books within while on break, which Jonas was taking full advantage of.
With dexterous ease Jonas began sketching out the state of Nevada. His skill aloud for the use of a pen versus the initial use of a pencil for the first sketch. After which, he did switch to a pencil, because now he needed to do some of the finer details. From what he was taught in map theory, these smaller sections of the state were called counties. It depended upon each state. Some were called counties and others, perishes, but for the atlas he was transcribing for the state of Nevada, they were thought to be called counties. Jonas had his own thoughts on the matter. In his opinion, they should be called districts, but that was neither hear nor there, and he was being paid for accuracy not his archeological opinion.
It had been six hours since hours since he started, and it was reaching the end of his first work day, according to his mechanical pocket watch, but Jonas was almost done with the cover and pages 1 and 2 when He was brought out of his fugue by a familiar voice that caused the archeologist turned hire scribe to jump. “This is very delicate work Erick. Don’t scare me like that.” Jonas grumped to his employer and friend. “I saw you look at your watch. I just thought you were aware. I did knock, you know.” Erick said defensively. The Grand Councilor was still wearing his work robes and looked tired. “Sorry Erick. These materials are precious. So I got-“ Jonas started, but Erick cut him off, “No worries, I just wanted to come down and check on you and your progress.” Jonas motioned towards the cover and two pages. “Things are going great. I should be done by fortnight’s end.”
Erick smiled, seemingly pleased by Jonas’ work. The counselor pulled up a chair. He made to grab one of the pages, only to get his hand slapped by Jonas. “Hey!”, but Jonas shrugged. “Ther are still drying. You will smudge the ink.” The archeologist said unapologetically, before taking a piece of bread off a plate, and pouring himself and Erick some wine. “More to the point how are you doing down here. What with the isolation and all.” Jonas shrugged. “I’m alright. Besides the constant echo of my own thoughts keeping me company, and it gives me time to look through your private collection to shamelessly further my own carrier.” It was a partial lie that Erick picked up on instantly. “Bullshit.” “Fine, Erick. It suuuuuucks, but I meant it, you got some good stuff down here, and if it means spending two weeks in isolation, then, so be it. Besides, I think I got a lead.”
At the mention of a lead, Erick choked on his wine. When the coughing subsided, the councilor composed himself. “Truly?” “Truly.” Jonas confirmed, excitement oozing out of him. The lead he was talking about, referred to something that could be considered Jonas’ magnum opus- His crowning achievement. He would be seen as the top archeologist, and the fame it would bring would be great, only to be eclipsed by the money. The lead was for the greatest repository of physical knowledge in the Americas and the world. The fabled Library of congress.
Jonas set his wine down then meticulously cleaned and dried his hands. He proceeded to slip on a pair of special gloves reserved for handling delicate and old things, and proceeded to pull a book from an ever-growing pile of books. The book was called, “Preserving America” He gently opened it and flipped to chapter 20, showed it to Erick, and began reading. By the end, he excitedly met Ericks eyes. “I don’t understand.” Erick complained, but Jonas wasn’t deterred by his friend’s lack of understanding. Instead, it only served to encourage him. “Erick, you know why the library was never found in DC, right?” “Yes, because it’s a myth. It never existed.” Jonas got even more excited. “Do you agree that Kyle Mengot is a reputable source of history?” Jonas saw the look Erick gave him, and realized how disjointed his argument was, but pressed. “I know what you’re thinking, but please answer the question.” Erick frowned, but did just that. “Yes, but I still don’t see how this helps to prove the libraries existence.” Jonas, with a deadpan look said, “It doesn’t. Just bear with me.” Receiving a nod, Jonas continued, “Good. Now that we’ve established the Authors credibility, and the fact the library was never found in Washington DC, I will direct you to chapter 21, which is where the title of the book is derived. If we read this chapter, we find that it was moved.”
Erick abruptly stood up and turned to leave in a hurry. “Wait! Where are you going?” “Jonas, do you know what you have found?” But it was the archeologists turn to to just look at Erick. “Ok, you just confirmed that the library of congress exists. I have to report this to the counsel.” Once understanding hit Jonas, he began to panic. Jonas wasn’t ready for this. He had to delay Erick from doing just that. “I only confirmed the possibility that it exists, not that it does. Just stop and think for a minute. This library doesn’t officially exist. If you tell the counsel, they will ask you to give the source of that knowledge which will lead them to me, and I will have no choice but to give you up.”
Erick’s expression hardened. “Are you threatening me?” Jonas was getting frustrated. “Erick, you’re my friend. I’m merely conveying that they’re consequences if we don’t approach this smartly. You advertising this knowledge is like walking through a seedy city at night waving a fat wallet and bragging about how much is in it. Bad things will happen.” Erick’s expression changed to one of acknowledgment and resignation. “You are right. I’m sorry. What do you need?” Jonas nearly let loose a sigh of relief. “For now, nothing. I finish the job you hired me for, and in the meantime, If I find anything more concrete, I’ll let you know. From there, we’ll proceed in a way that does not link us to this place.”
The next three days were a blur. It was mostly spent, dedicated on the transcription of the Atlas. Jonas had knocked out a decent chunk, having completed six whole counties out of the 16 total. This included rivers, roads, and train tracks. He still wasn’t clear what all the road symbols meant, but academic understanding was not needed here. After all, it was look at one and transcribe. Regardless, he got it all down to the finest detail, and not a second sooner, because the candle he was using to light his work had died. Jonas sighed in frustration and listened. He wasn’t keen on making his own light. He was a freak in that he’d met no one else who could do the things he could, and that was all the more reason to keep his ability hidden. “The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.” Jonas mumbled to himself, quoting his father. He had also read enough history to know this was true.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Determining the coast was clear, he held up a finger. Atop the finger sprouted a singular blue flame. Jonas was careful to make sure he wasn’t near any of the precious books when he did so, lest he destroy the precious trove of knowledge and history. In truth, if he found what he was looking for, then he may have to, because of Erick who is a counselor, and the world of politics was a vicious one. No one, not even Erick himself could 100% guarantee that he and Jonas were the only ones who knew about this collection. After all, all book about their collective history is property of the government to ensure the progress of its people. Those caught hoarding this knowledge was delt with quite severally. That included personal collections held by said leaders.
Placing the troubling thoughts of future Jonas behind him, he made his way to a cupboard and pulled out a fresh set of candles, and using his finger flame, lit one of them. There was a loud clatter by the door. He quickly extinguished the finger flame and reached for his gun, ready to silence whoever witnessed Jonas’ use of his ability. He spun around gun poised, ready to fire, only to see a mouse struggle out from beneath a pile of books and equipment.
A sigh of relief escaped Jonas. He holstered his gun, and snatched the struggling terror. “You nearly gave me a fright. You’re such a treacherous little thing.” Having some mercy on the frightened little beasty, he cracked the door and tossed out. He not more and turned, and heard Erick’s maid screaming in terror, which was followed by more clanging and shouts for help. “Well, your problem now little guy.” Jonas laughed, but felt a little bad about tossing it out there in the first place. He sat back down and picked up Preserving America. He pulled out a notebook and began making liberal use of the ink and quill Erick had provided. He made some references to various spots within chapter 21, as well as some foot notes, regarding other points of interest that may also lead other repositories of knowledge. Something within chapters 21 and 25 really stood out to Jonas. It nagged at him. It kept referencing the Desert Mountains, as well as the need for many somethings called 18-wheelers. The pictures of the vehicles were straight out of a sci-fi novel. If not for historical record, Jonas would have written it off as pure speculation and fantasy.
The Archeologist put the book down and let out a yawn. He pulled out his pocket watch and saw the time. It read 10:00PM. “Dam, it’s late.” He woke up to something curled up in the crook of his neck. It felt soft and furry. It was quite pleasant. He reached up to give it an investigative feel, only to find it out it was something familiar. Sitting up, he looked over to see the mouse he had evicted yesterday. Jonas didn’t hold any illusions about the creatures. It didn’t snuggle into him because it was tame. No, it was cold and he was a source of warmth. It probably hadn’t even registered him as a threat since he was a quiet and still sleeper.
Jonas fished out some bread and cheese for his breakfast and left some near the sleeping creature. After completing the two eses (Shit and Shave) He started the wood stove and let the place warm up before jumping into his work. His goal was to complete 3 more pages by day’s end. He also wanted to check the original atlas locations for the Dessert Mountains for anything that resembled… or looked like it could be, or be a good place to build a vault for the world’s largest collection of knowledge. Not feeling up to jumping straight into his justification for being here, Jonas flipped to the section of the atlas that covered the Desert Mountains. The color was faded, but that was ok. He had already determined the true intended colors and was able to determine the height indicated.
This was good, because the recommended relative humidity (RH) range for storing books is generally between 30% and 50%. Pluss, he had been to this area before. Maybe not in the mountain range, but the area was somewhat arid, and depending how high up into a mountain you went, the more humid it could be. If the goal was to preserve knowledge as was the theory behind the library of congress, then it stood to reason the place would be future proofed incase it failed to maintain its’ internal temperature, and that was important, because it was meant to be a long-term preservation effort with no timeline. This also meant failsafe measures from the borderline magical to the natural.
In the end, Jonas only located 3 possible locations for the site. The atlas was dated before the construction of the library as referenced in Preserving America. The only things that made the found places candite worthy was temperature, accessibility and buildability. Jonas smiled. He jotted all of this into his notebook, of course. Now, he just had to finish his job, and then do the impossible, politicking.
Erick roamed the halls of his estate. It had been a particularly cold couple of days, and he’d recon there would be snowfall soon enough. All the signs were there, which was fine by him, anyway, because the cold houses were in dire need of ice. Just another topic of discussion for today’s agenda that has been a constant headache year-round every year. “If only they’d figure out the secret behind golden age refrigeration technology.
Erick was at his table when his maid arrived with a sizeable portion of bacon and eggs. She looked awful. “Hey Ms. Watkins. How’s your morning.” The maid paused to give her words some thought. “Tiering. Have you considered getting a cat?” Ms. Watkins tactfully suggested. “You know I’m allergic to cats.” Erick said. That was when the maid just broke down. “I’m allergic to mice. They are nasty little things. I hear them in the walls. I hear them scurrying across the floor, and just last week one of your children threw one at me from the forbidden room.” She threw her apron at Erick. “Consider this my resignation. I want my severance pay.”
Erick frowned he had no kids. He had a nephew and a niece, but no kids, let alone a wife, and the only person in his personal library was Jonas Skarts. Erick clenched his fist “Skarts” he ground out. He really didn’t want to lose Ms. Watkins, but she was a hypochondriac, and when she got on a role, there was no stopping her. Erick tried to talk her out of it. “I’m telling you there is no infestation. I know, because my rat traps are empty.” “Erick, you are a generous and sweet man, but mice are smart and conniving things.” “Ms. Watkins, please don’t tell me you believe that drivel. The common field mouse is not a part of some secret cabal.” His ex-maid just looked at him dumbstruck, then with concern. She placed the back of her hand on his forehead, followed by his cheeks. “You don’t have a fever.” She spoke. It was then that Erick realized his mistake. It was the other maid that believed in conspiracies. It didn’t help that the two were had similar names and looked almost identical. But, Erick couldn’t complain. His blunder actually worked for the better. Taking back her apron, she said, “I change my mind. You’d be lost without me.”
Erick didn’t argue, and verbally re-instated her. He was going to have words with his friend. “Will you excuse me, and thank you for the breakfast. I’ll return the dirty dishes to the kitchen.” She nodded and left, but not before grabbing the machete from by the door. Yeah, he was definitely going to have words with that friend of his.
A fortnight had come and gone. The atlas was finished, and Jonas was ready to present it to Erick. Being stuck in this dusty library was always a treat, but there was only so much he could stand. Even if the mouse had proven to be an odd source of companionship and amusement. The mouse had grown rather attached to him and he, it. Jonas still hadn’t come up with a name for it yet, and he couldn’t keep calling the critter “it and mouse” It really needed a name, but it would seem now wasn’t the time, because just then, he heard Erick slam open the door.
