The Library of Babel, Abridged

There are definitely pros and cons to being trapped inside this infinite library. I have always loved reading; in school I was constantly getting in trouble for reading. I'd hide mysteries in my textbooks, or use my foot to hold open the pages of a sci-fi novel on the floor under my desk. Most of my teachers gave up eventually and let me read. 

The con of this particular infinite library is that a lot of these books aren't very good. Which makes sense. We take for granted that are English classes are giving us "good" books to read (which they are, usually, they're just not taught in a very good way) and we don't really think about how all these great works of literature came out right alongside a bunch of crap that people had to wade through to find the best stuff. 

This is making me sound like a snob, which I'm not. I believe everyone has a thousand terrible stories in them, so we all need to hurry up and write as much as we can and get them all out. Then we can get to writing the good ones. 

The food situation is strange too. There are little tables set out that will sometimes have food and drink laid out on them. I've noticed they only appear after I've read an entire book. I'm a pretty fast reader, and the meals have enough food for an entire day and night.

There's little water fountains everywhere, but the water pressure is so low it comes out in only the tiniest arc, so small that I almost have to put my mouth on it. It's maddening. It's always cold though, so that's nice.

There is light, sunlight, that comes down through the shafts. Oh, I guess I should try to describe this place. It's kind of like a beehive, maybe? No, a honeycomb. The hexagonal walls are made up of shelves of books, and walkways with stairways and bannisters. The center part is an open shaft, and sunlight comes in from the top. This is also strange, because the sun would have to directly overhead to each shaft to shine all the way down with casting any shade. I've walked for miles in the same day and have never seen a shadow. 

There are nights. A slow dimming over the course of an hour, with no oranges or reds like in my memory of sunsets, and then total darkness. There is no moon, or at least there's no moonlight. 

It's really not bad in here. I do wish I had someone to talk to about these books. Also, since this library is infinite, statistically speaking there must be a book that explains how this place works, and maybe even tells how to get out of here. 

I do wish I had someone to talk to about escaping. I mean, someone I could see and who could talk back. 

Because I am talking to you now, I think. There's nothing to write with here in this infinite library. I've been composing this narrative by tearing out words from the other books. I only steal a couple from each. And I'm leaving this story, word by word, like a trail of breadcrumbs, so if you are reading this, then keep following it and you'll find me, eventually. 

I can't wait to meet you. 

THE END

Author's Note: With apologies to you, Jorge Luis Borges. But I'm pretty sure you'd be cool with it.