The Central Synoro Library stood as a testament to the city's enduring spirit, a beacon of knowledge amidst the urban sprawl. Its imposing facade, adorned with ornate columns and arched windows, exuded an air of grandeur and history. Sunlight bathed the weathered stonework, casting long shadows that danced across the wide steps leading to the grand entrance.
Olt paused at the foot of the stairs, taking the time to view the bustling cityscape. There was the morning rhythm of urban life, the distant rumble of traffic, and the chatter of pedestrians. He took a deep breath, the scent of exhaust fumes and freshly brewed coffee mingling in his nostrils. His worries pressed down on him, a heavy burden threatening to crush his resolve.
With a sigh, he ascended the steps, each footfall reverberating in the vastness of the library's entrance hall. The hushed whispers of students and the soft rustle of turning pages were a soothing balm to his troubled mind. He made his way through the maze of bookshelves, his fingers trailing along their spines. They were a familiar comfort in a world that seemed to be spinning out of control.
Not knowing where to start his research and being overwhelmed by the endless aisles of books, articles, and periodicals, Olt decided to approach one of the front desks in the main hall.
The main hall was a sight to behold. Its high ceilings, adorned with intricate moldings, soared towards a central skylight that bathed the space in a soft glow. Tall, fluted columns lined the sides, their marble surfaces reflecting the light like mirrors. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, their dark wood contrasting with the pale hues of the ceiling and floor. Comfortable armchairs were scattered throughout, inviting visitors to linger and lose themselves in the world of words. A grand piano, polished to a high sheen, sat prominently in one corner. It was a sign of the library's cultural significance.
Olt approached the front desk, his footsteps tapping softly on the polished marble floor. A woman looked up from her work. Her face was framed by a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. She offered Olt a polite smile. Olt explained his predicament. The woman listened patiently, her eyes never leaving his face. When he finished, she nodded thoughtfully, her fingers tapping a rhythmic beat on the polished wooden countertop.
"I'm afraid I can't pinpoint an exact location for that. But I can direct you to Reading Room 2B. It houses mostly legal work and general continental law."
Olt thanked her, hope reignited in his eyes. He turned and made his way towards a massive stairway that led to the second floor. As he climbed, the hushed whispers and rustling pages grew fainter, replaced by the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat. He reached the landing and paused, taking a deep breath. The scent of old paper and dust was thick. He pushed open the heavy wooden door, its hinges creaking in protest, and stepped into the dimly lit room. Rows of sturdy wooden tables lined the space. Their surfaces were scarred with the marks of countless pens and weary elbows.
…
An hour had passed, and Olt had yet to find something remotely close to a solution. He took a break from his search and sat on a dusty chair. Thinking of his finances, he knew he still had enough money to pay his rent and help the family pay their mortgage for about two more months. Once that ran out, he figured he had another five months before the bank would begin to strongly consider foreclosure. Foreclosure wouldn't be on the bank's priority list until payments stopped being made, completely. Olt realized he had about half a year's time to figure out his financial situation and perhaps keep making payments on the mortgage.
His thought was interrupted by an old man walking out of a closed room. He was pushing a cart laden with stacks of dusty books and papers, the wheels squeaking softly on the polished floor. The old man looked at Olt, surprised there was anyone there to begin with. He greeted Olt with a warm smile, and Olt politely returned the gesture.
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Olt continued to think, his brow furrowed in concentration. The old man, noticing Olt's worry, politely interrupted.
“Pardon, but do you need any help?”
Olt looked at him.
“Uh, well…I’m looking for any information regarding property law. I’m a professor, and I’m doing some research on the state of property protection-”
He noticed he was beginning to ramble.
“Uh, sorry about that. It’s ok, thank you for offering. But, I don’t really know where to start.
The old man smiled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.
"I was once a student of law myself. We've just finished a long process of moving a bunch of material into that room. I suspect the administration wanted it done, since this space is rarely used. They're trying to reinvigorate it, you see."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"Technically, no one's allowed inside the room yet, but no one would care anyway."
The old man placed the cart to the side and gestured towards the closed room.
"Follow me."
A flicker of curiosity replaced the worry on Olt’s face, as he followed the old man into the room. It was a dimly lit space, filled with stacks of dusty boxes and piles of forgotten documents.
Dust forced the old man to clear his throat.
"The material here isn't specific to Synoro, but there's a lot of Uraan law. Technically, as a vassal of Uraan, Synoro’s legal system still heavily relies on it. So, if you're looking for anything, you might want to broaden your search."
Olt humbly scratched his head and thanked the old man, acknowledging the wisdom in his words. The old man then kindly dismissed himself, leaving Olt alone in the room.
Olt looked around, his eyes scanning the vast room and the mountains of documents and tomes. A renewed sense of purpose filled him. He rolled up his sleeves, as he approached a section of bookshelves.
He approached a shelf.The shelves groaned under the weight of countless volumes, their spines a tapestry of faded colors and forgotten titles. Olt pulled a book out of the shelf. The tome was titled the Citizens Protection Collection Vol 1. Triggering his memory, Olt quickly opened the book.
The Citizens Protection Collection was a program started under the dictatorship. In Olt's opinion, the program sought to build long-lasting support for the government by eliminating extreme poverty. Housing was a big aspect of the plan. Half of Central Bonao, including the massive structure that was the Central Library, were all built and developed as part of this initiative. Giving people new shiny things wouldn't be much, if they didn’t have incentives to feed back into the system. Oliver Nader's greatest skill was social engineering. He might have been a dictator, but the little development Synoro received, it owed to him.
There had to be something here that Olt could use. Quickly, he turned the book to the end, looking at its appendix. His eyes then widened when he saw three words: home protection insurance.
As indicated by the appendix, Olt flipped to page 263. The pages were yellowed and brittle, the ink faded and smudged in places. The title, Synoro Debt Relief Act, jumped out at him. His eyes scanned through the dense legal language. His heart pounded in his chest. The more he read, the wider and brighter his expression became. He had found what he was looking for.
…
After being allowed to make copies of the pages, Olt ran swiftly out of the library, the staccato rhythm of his footsteps echoing through the hallowed halls. As he burst through the grand entrance, the sunlight slapped his senses, blasting the dusty gloom off his eyes. He paused on the steps, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air. The city, with its endless symphony of sounds, seemed to pulse with a newfound energy.
As he descended the steps, his mind raced. Who better to help him with the law of a past dictator, than that dictator’s daughter. A plan was forming.