These words were carved into a stone block by the library's door. John, Tina and Giles glanced at it as they ran in, not really taking it in.
The librarian at the loans desk briefly looked up from his work then promptly ignored them. Each time he stamped RETURNED into a book, a loud clang reverberated throughout the library. Clouds of dust mushroomed above his desk.
Giles led them past the librarian and along the aisles of tall, dusty bookshelves. Beneath the domed ceiling, their footsteps echoed around them. John and Tina looked around as they went — books, books and more books; books that looked like they had never been read. The three of them seemed to be the only visitors.
‘How do you know about this portal thing?’ asked John.
‘I found it by accident on my last entry to Designers Paradise,’ answered Giles. ‘I like the library. It's peaceful. I usually spend an hour or so here every day after school — reading, browsing, exploring. And one day, I found the information portal. I ended up spending so much money on information, that I ran out of time in Designers Paradise.’
Giles stopped as they came to the end of the aisle.
‘Here we are.’
They stood in front of a donut-shaped desk situated at the junction of numerous aisles, as if each led browsers towards it. Looking up, John saw that the desk was directly under the apex of the dome. Tina ran a finger across the surface of the desk and wrinkled her nose.
‘Why is everything so dusty in here?’
‘Ambience?’ suggested Giles.
‘Good day,’ said the bespectacled, grey-haired lady seated in the centre of the desk. It was as if she had been crouched down, hidden from view, ready to appear the moment someone approached. ‘You may call me Grace. What can I do for you young people today?’
‘We'd like some information, please,’ said Tina.
‘Well, this is a library.’ The lady smiled as she peered over the top of her glasses. ‘So you have come to the right place.’
‘We'd like some very specific information, Grace,’ explained Giles. ‘We'd like to know why the parameters of Suburbia are changing. And how we can exit.’
‘Ah.’
Grace reached over and chose a book from the stack to her left. The word PLAYERS was embossed in gold letters on its dark leather cover. She opened the large volume, seemingly to a random page, and ran a finger down the blank paper. The page glowed softly under her touch. She nodded and Giles placed his hand on the page, which flashed with light as it scanned his palm.
Giles removed his hand and Grace touched a finger to the page again.
‘Hmmm.’ She raised an eyebrow, slowly shaking her head.
‘There should be more than enough money in my account,’ said Giles. ‘I used a credit stick when I entered.’
‘Yes, I do remember you, young man. And I remember just how much accumulated wealth you have. But I cannot access any player accounts or files.’ She paused to remove her spectacles and clean them on her beige, knitted cardigan. Repositioning them on her nose, she tilted her head to one side and stared ahead intently.
After about half a minute, Tina leaned over to Giles and whispered, ‘Is she okay?’
‘I'm just fine, thank you, dear,’ said Grace, suddenly looking at Tina. ‘But there appears to be something wrong with the network. We have become isolated.’
‘So, what's going on?’ asked John.
‘That's a very good question. I'm not sure that I have an authoritative answer.’ She paused to think.
She closed the first book and took another one from a nearby stack. She opened the untitled volume, leafing through the pages until she found what she was looking for — another blank page. As she gently brushed the paper with her finger, seemingly indecipherable text and symbols scrolled rapidly across the page.
‘It certainly seems that the Suburbia environment has been compromised. The boundaries are weakening. Other environments are intruding. The phenomena appear to be steadily increasing. I'm afraid there is nothing I can do to stop it.’
‘What does it mean?’ asked Tina.
The librarian's eyes widened. ‘I do not know.’
‘Is there anything that we can do?’ asked John.
‘No.’
‘Is there anything anyone can do?’ asked Giles, desperation creeping into his voice. ‘Is there anyone who can help us?’
‘Possibly,’ replied Grace. ‘You could try to contact the Designers and beg for their help.’
‘How?’
‘It may be possible to pass through a weakness in the environment boundaries,’ explained Grace. ‘Passing through a weakness may give you access to the control centre. If you are able to get there, you could seek an audience with the Designers.’
‘And they could fix this?’ asked Tina.
‘I suspect so,’ said Grace. ‘They are the Designers. They can do anything. Whether or not they choose to, is another matter entirely.’
‘There seems to be a lot of ifs, buts and maybes in all of this,’ complained Giles.
Grace smiled. ‘Things are what they are.’
‘How do we find a weak spot?’ asked Tina.
‘I do not know,’ replied Grace. ‘The appearances seem to be random.’
She took another book from a pile and opened it. With the touch of her finger, a map of Suburbia was displayed on the pages. Little spots of light appeared and disappeared at random locations.
‘You see,’ said Grace. ‘The spots of light are the weaknesses. There are many. They vary in size. You'll need to find one large enough to get through. Try to find one that is relatively stable. You don't want it to close up while you're only halfway through. That might be messy.’
She snapped the book shut.
‘Is there anything you can do to help us?’ asked Giles.
‘Possibly.’
‘What?’
‘Wait.’
Grace retrieved yet another book, opened it and touched a blank page, her eyes rapidly following the text as it appeared.
‘I could disperse your avatars,’ she said, looking up. ‘Although whether that would be a help or a hindrance is open to debate.’
‘Do it!’ said Tina. ‘I'd rather face this as myself.’
‘Me too,’ added John.
‘Well, I'm not sure,’ said Giles.
Grace flipped a page in the book and pressed her hand to it.
‘That's betta,’ said Tark, running a hand along the scar on his head. ‘I is me again.’
Zyra spun around, swishing her travelling coat about her, then froze, striking a pose, knives held at the ready. ‘Much betta.’ She smiled, showing off her studded teeth.
‘Oh yes,’ sneered the now shorter and podgier Princeling Galbrath. ‘This is so much better.’
‘Shuts it!’ said Zyra, concealing her knives.
‘I'm sorry to interrupt,’ said Grace, looking down at another book. ‘But we have visitors.’
She held up the book so that they could see. An image appeared on the page. Police, with swords drawn, were marching towards the front of the library.
‘And, pray tell, what do we do now?’ asked the princeling.
‘Is there a back ways out?’ asked Zyra, turning to the librarian.
‘Why, yes.’ Grace pointed to one of the aisles. ‘Just follow that bookshelf till you reach the far wall. Turn right. And it's a couple of metres on your left.’
