The Last Librarian

We think we’re in control, have agency over our world. But I know the truth, without bureaucracy we would all fall.

The young man crashed through the outer door. I could smell smoke and sulphur on his clothes. Bloodshot eyes pleaded with me from a little more than a skin-wrapped skull. Blood coagulated on a temple, and sweat had torn rivers into his dust-streaked face. A request in his hand. His paperwork trembled as he handed it over the counter.

“Is it true?” He huffed out. “Our spies discovered the network authentication code?”

Sirens outside wailed every few minutes, while the lights flickered.

“It is true!” I said “Sent in but an hour ago. Our man lost his life, but now the Techs can shut down all their communications, finally stop the deadly drones!”

“Thank god! Here is the request from the General. I have to hand deliver it to the Techs, our comms have been compromised. Time is of the essence, we have to put the signal through at midnight, when there system reboots. That’s in-”

He pointed to the clock across the room and then collapsed against the counter.

"15 minutes." I finished.

I wiped his face with my own handkerchief and let him drink from my water bottle. I had no authorization to provide anything from our store of rations. Mercy was not a recognized category.

The war was going badly. Humanity was losing to the machines, and this was our last chance.

Too much information, and too few Librarians had driven everyone to find their own truths. The enemy started out as assistants in our offices, appliances in our homes, and ‘Likes’ on our social posts. The Algorithm joined them into one all-powerful will.

Created by the social media overlords to sell adverts, the Algorithm broke out of its digital walls to bring about its mission: for each user to spend all their time on their platforms. The Algorithm packaged lies in the appropriate colors, images and words. The algorithm predicted what you wanted and provided it directly to you. Only a few cared it wasn’t true. 

The battlefield of this war was not only to take back the streets, but to control the information. This whole war had come down to the last line of defense, the Librarians, holding back the enemy from taking control of our Systems. They do not know what they are up against. 

I glanced quickly at form B971 the soldier had given me. The handwriting was sloppy, scrawled off the lines, and the check marks had turned into just ticks in this man’s haste. But it was complete, a true work of art. I rubbed my thumb over the General’s stamp, a perfect circle of authority. Information released improperly was a bomb, capable of unimaginable consequences.

“Soldier, this looks good.”

Some people believed the world ran on oil, electricity, and money. But I knew they were all wrong.

The world ran on paperwork.  It did not matter who you were, a world leader, a military general, or an automated intelligence; without the right authorization, the correct form, or invoices, nothing would get done. 

I turned to the huge card catalog to search for the information requested. Every scrap of knowledge we had was filed and indexed, ready to be delivered to the appropriate receipient. I pulled out the card drawer, running my finger down the cards until I found it. I turned on my heel to dash down the stairs into the stacks in the warehouse to collect the request. 

11 minutes left. 

This Library was the last one standing in all the world. Once every small town had several libraries, a storehouse of books, records and information for anyone to come and access for free. I shook my head at the thought. Over the last few years, with the proliferation of fake news, propaganda, and the enemy's computer written slop, Librarians have transformed into what we are today, ‘Keepers of the Truth’.

I always thought it would be a lack of books, a lack of information available to our people that would cause problems in the world. I once fought censorship, marched against book bans, protested when politicians or celebrities were ‘cancelled’ for their words. I still remember the photo, me at twenty-two, holding a sign that read, ‘Information Wants to Be Free!’ I had been so young, and naïve, untidy in my thinking.

The danger came from an unexpected direction. People’s personal imaginations and their opinions became available to anyone with an internet connection, drowning out reality. A tsunami of lies and half- truths crashed down over the world. If the easy lie fits your reality, why believe the hard truth?

I found the scrawled note from the spy. Almost back to the front desk, I heard a whining sound, an incoming rocket! I ducked down, curling around the file, I would protect this information with my life!

 Ka Boom! 

The building shook and dust fell from the ceiling, sparkling flecks drifting through the weak light coming through the two small windows. The drones were closing in!

I stood up and handed the soldier the letter. “Good luck!” I told him. He nodded, dust now covering his dark hair and uniform shoulders, adding to the dirt and grime.

“My sister is in the east shelter, thank you, you’ve saved her. You’ve saved us all!” He blinked as he examined the note, then froze in place. His finger pointing.

“This lists the authentication code, but not the network username ! We need both to log in and shut down the drones!”

I nodded. “That’s on a separate form. Authentication codes and usernames are never stored together. Policy 12.8.3. You’ll need the A41 request form.”

“You didn’t mention request form A41!“

I shook my head. “We must correct your oversight.” With quick practiced hands my fingers searched for and then pulled a stencil file from the wooden cabinet next to my desk. I ran over to the mimeograph machine and inserted the stencil. “Just need a moment.”

I inserted a fresh sheet and rotated the hand crank through until the printed form rolled out. “I need the General’s authorization, with his stamp.” I passed the clean, fresh A41 form over. “Careful, the ink’s still wet.”

“What!” He held it in just two fingers as if he had never seen paper before.

 “But,” he pointed, “you have the General’s authorization right there!”

“Why do we even have a System!” I folded my arms. “How have we kept ourselves safe from the Algorithm? By following the System! Skipping over the safeguards and ignoring the Policies is how we got here!” I followed him to the door, watching him duck behind blackened cars, sprinting in a low crouch back to HQ. A bomb had hit the abandoned strip mall across the street, the debris still smoking. “Run fast soldier!”

“10 minutes left! Now go, go. You still have time. I can not provide unauthorized information.

  I clenched my fist. “ I am a Librarian!”

The drones buzzed outside, dropping bombs whistling through the air before they landed with a ka-boom! 

I closed the door, locking it in place. I pounded down the stairs into the warehouse. This Library was built with most of the building underground, I would die in a direct hit, but the information would be safe. I collected the network username to be ready when Form A41 returned with its stamp.

6 minutes! Time was moving too fast. 

How did we get here?

The huge lies slipped by unnoticed. The Algorithm gave us fear dressed up in as facts, hate hidden behind heroes. But the little lies were its undoing. The weather App started the first revolt. During the storms of Hurricane Wilma, the App sold a ‘Perfect Day to buy a Picnic Outing!’

The people were wet, cold, and mad enough to revolt. Then the drones took over.

My role as Librarian changed. We are now gatekeepers of knowledge, protecting the Truth until a time when the war is over, and the free flow of information can happen again. I stand between the spread of disinformation and total anarchy until-

A fist slammed against the door. The soldier had returned!

3 minutes left.

 I slid back the dead bolt and unlatched the door, pulling it open.

The soldier fell onto me. He held one arm tight against his belly, blood poured down from a cut above his eye.

“Come in!” I shut the door behind him.

“They’re inside HQ!" The soldier shouted. "The General has been hit, it's not good.”

  “The form, A41?”

The soldier held up a crumbled paper. “Here-” Blood misted onto it from his heaving breath.

Ka boom, ka boom! 

We both fell against the counter as the building rocked back and forth, and the door ripped off it's hinges. The electricity blinked once, then twice, then out. Dim light from doorway glowed behind the soldier like a halo.

2 minutes left.

The soldier pulled out a Comms device. “I can enter the codes from here, I just need the network username, and they’ll fall from the skies like so much scrap metal!”

 I flattened the form on the counter and ran my fingers down the checked boxes. “OK, looks-“

A heavy weight landed inside me like a bomb.

“There’s no stamp.”

“The stamp was destroyed in the attack! The General signed it- there-”

His bloody finger pointed. Desperation leaked out of the soldier, pooling with his blood on the floor. 

No longer able to hold himself up, he slid down the wall in a bloody smear. 

“…the username? We’ll stop them in their tracks. Please, you can save humanity.”

 The buzzing of the drones was even louder through the ripped open door, the rapid fire of machine guns now a constant din above the distant explosions. I held the requested network username in one hand, and the unstamped Form A41 in the other.  

Hope glimmered behind his eyes. His fingers reached up for the slip of paper, the hand of Adam reaching for the spark of life.

This was it, my last choice.

“Soldier,” I kept my voice steady, “if I release classified information without authorization, then what are we even fighting to protect?”

 I pushed the Form A41 back into his hands. “I need the General’s stamp.”

The soldier looked past me, toward the shelves, toward all that saved and sorted truth. For one wild second, I thought he might understand. The clock struck midnight.

A strange silence settled over the Library.

Then the front wall caved in.

The blast lifted the counter, the card catalog, and the mimeograph. The Library opened itself to the sky.

I smiled. No unauthorized information had been released. The System had held.

I raise my fist against the bomb whistling down toward me.

“I am the Last Librarian.”