The interior was as massive as the outside suggests, with high ceilings and an overall Gothic cathedral style going for it. There was rows of dimly lit torches hanging off the walls and where there wasn't torches there were huge bookshelves lining every inch of the exposed stone. I was planing on marvelling the place further when an old, raspy voice pierced the silence.

On instinct I ported several feet away from where I stood, ready to take on whatever it was that planned to assault me. That is, until logic returned to my brain and I realized that the voice probably belonged to someone who worked here. I returned to where I stood and saw that the person who spoke was an old, robed figure that reminded me quite a lot of Gandalf. He had the long white beard and the ancient, knowledge filled eyes that could only belong to a stereotypical mage or scholar in some medieval fantasy novel. Heck, I didn't think someone could possibly fit the cliche of an old scholar more!

“My apologies for startling you, my boy,” he said, “it's just that it's so rare to have an unannounced visitor.”

“Oh, don't worry,” I said, still a little antsy, “I'm used to being startled, and it was kinda my fault for reacting like that. But uh, was I supposed to make an appointment or something before coming here? I just opened the door and thought that anyone was allowed to walk in...”

“Ha ha, no worries, no worries! The only people who still announce their arrival are kooks older than I am! Why, it's been decades since someone new has come to this establishment, and as such, I welcome you to the Library. I am Atticus, the head Librarian; well, to be fair, I'm the only librarian. Quite sad, but alas, this is how it has come to be.”

“You mean you maintain this whole place by yourself?” I asked, a little taken back that anyone in their right mind would leave this old man so understaffed. And hell, although Sarah Fortune wasn't exactly Mother Teresa, she seemed competent enough to understand that such a huge library needed more than one librarian to keep it functional.

“Well, once upon a time it wasn't always like this.” He said.

“What happened?”

“Well, a lot of things happened I guess. Why, I still remember this library at its peak, when scholars from around the world would come to visit. Why, it got so busy at one point that me and my colleagues would work 15 hour shifts just to keep things in working order. We would scurry around like rats, every one of us, running around tending to whatever needs arose; whether it be reshuffling, or tending to the more worn books, we were always kept busy. Well... those were the good days.” The smile on the Head Librarian's face began to fade and he continued, “But good times never last forever, and over the years the people stopped coming, for one reason or another. And with the decrease in scholars, the need for librarians naturally went down with it. One by one my colleagues left; some got married and started a family, others left for more profitable work. Even my lovely Alexis...Well, suffice to say, the only one remaining is me.

“But enough of an old man's ramblings, sit down and make yourself comfortable.” The old librarian said, sitting down himself and gesturing at the seat adjacent from him, “My apologies for boring you like that, you probably wern't here to like to the tale of an old man like me. As I've said, it's rare to have visitors. Now is there anything in particular that I can help you with?”

“No worries, you weren’t boring me at all” I responded, feeling a little bit of pity for the gold guy, “But I was wondering if you guys – well, not “guys” plural I guess, since it's just you – but uh, do you have any books or information about the supernatural.”

“Ah, but of course. We have 148 338 volumes on the subject, as well and 78 942 individual books available at the moment, shall I lead you to them?.” He said, his voice and tone returning to what it was before the story.

“You're going to lead me to 200 000 books?”

“Well of course not!” He said with a laugh, “It was a joke of sorts. I used to tell bad ones quite often, and I guess old habits die hard. Why, even in a place as large as this, storing that many books is impossible. It's all in databases and what not nowadays, although we still keep several of the more popular or rare volumes on hand. With the advent of the internet and digital storage, I'm afraid to say my job has become more or less obsolete.

“But don't worry, my boy. There's still one thing that I can do better than even the smartest computers, and that's summarizing information. I believe they tried that one before, some program or another called “Cuil” if I'm not mistaken. And if my memory serves, that turned out to be quite the disaster, albeit a funny one. But even so, your topic of interest is indeed a broad one, and unless you plan on staying for a week or two I would recommend narrowing down your search.”

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Oh, right. I guess anyone, computer or otherwise, would have a hard time condensing 200 000 some odd volumes of information down to a manageable size.” I said, a little embarrassed that I asked such a broad topic in the first place. I mean, what was I expecting, a short 15 minute lecture on the entire history of the supernatural? I've only been in SIDNA for a little over a day and I can't even begin counting the amount of times I've been left speechless or have done something stupid. Frank my man, you gotta step up your game, put that university education to some use for once!

“Sorry about that,” I said, sounding confidant for the first time, “but I guess I should start from the basics – and please bare with me if these questions sound dumb, I'm just getting used to this whole “new world view” thing. What I want to ask about is magic, for the lack of a better term. Like my ability to teleport, and whatever else people can do. Where does it come from? And how come the majority of the world is so hellbent on thinking it doesn't exist? I mean, you can't just keep something like that a secret.”

“Ah, a very good question, my boy! But to call it magic is fundamentally wrong with its current English definition. Your abilities and the ones that other people possess are not created from some arbitrary, nonexistent entity, and what you would call the “supernatural” are things that are quite natural indeed.”

“What do you mean? I don't see how my ability to spontaneously disappear from one location and reappear somewhere else can, in any way, fit in the natural world. And things like zombies don't exactly seem natural to me either.”

“But that's where you're wrong! And that way of thinking is precisely why all of the so-called supernatural beings and phenomenon can be dismissed so easy by the general public. But think about it, nothing that is being done is breaking the laws of the universe. Indeed, even your ability to 'spontaneously disappear and reappear'-”

“How?” I interrupted, “What you are implying is that I can somehow materialize – faster than light speed at that – every particle in my body from one spatial location to another. If that's not the very definition of impossible I don't know what is.”

“Let me finish, my boy, let me finish.” he said, his voice still calm, “I can see that you are well versed in your physics and relativity, but the way you are thinking is very three dimensional. Can it not be possible to transcend the third dimension, and in doing so affect the lower dimensions in a seemingly impossible manor?”

“So wormholes; you're basically saying I have the ability to create a wormhole that I travel through to get to location to location. While theoretically possible, Hawking stated-”

“I know what he said, and trust me, you are not breaking any laws of physics. But yes, what you are essentially doing is creating trillions upon trillions of tiny wormholes for the atoms that make up your body to travel through. And before you correct me on the matter of energy and stability, just know that that is exactly what the so-called notion of “magic” is! It's the ability to manipulate the fundamental energies of the universe to suit the person's needs.”

“But where does the energy come from? Surely we cannot just create it out of nothing.”

“You are correct, just as we cannot create matter from nothing, likewise we cannot create energy from nothing. We simply take what is already there and condenses it to a useable form.”

“If what you're saying is true, than what's to prevent me from, say, teleporting myself to the ends of universe? Or taking the energy from someone else to power my ability? And what's holding the wormholes open long enough to let my atoms through?”

“That, my boy, is something that even I do not know. There have been theories proposed by various scholars over the years, but the subject has remained impossible to test. Alas, I lack an answer for you.”

“Ok, but even assuming that I have the power to somehow manipulate, and not to mention maintain stability, of the energies of the universe, how come I'm limited to just teleportation?”

“It wasn't always like that, my boy.” the Librarian said, his voice sounding as if he was reminiscing happier times.

“What happened then?” I asked.

“It's a long story, my boy, I doubt you'll have the patience to hear it out.”

“Well, I'm not going anywhere, I have time to spare.”

“If you say so, my boy, if you say so.” Atticus said, and with a sigh he began.