Quinn had watched Harish take Misha away. He said he needed some of the equipment he had in the viewing room, where they’d observed as Lynx entered the core to begin the re-sequencing process. Harish needed several things in there to analyze and deconstruct the golem core.
To be honest, Quinn wasn’t exactly sure how she should feel. She didn’t understand what he’d said, but could probably comprehend more if she absorbed a book about golem construction. Surely they’d have that in the Library. Perhaps it was more advanced, though. It could be something in the Crafting annex.
And so Harish had taken Misha away intent on healing, or fixing, or reestablishing her, or something.
Quinn couldn’t figure out what it was she was supposed to do. How could she help such an integral part of the Library?
The mood in the office was somber.
“I have several things I need to attend to back home.” Hal’s words were softly spoken, as if he didn’t want to disturb anyone’s thoughts.
Quinn nodded. “Thank you for being here. I know you’re busy with things outside of the Library.”
He nodded, hesitated a second, and then spoke again, a certain fondness in his tone. “Don’t worry little egg. You’re not alone. Harish will do what he can with Misha, while I will tend to Ikeshal and things on my end. I will be back.”
She nodded, able to eek out a small smile.
He nodded, shimmered, and vanished. Hal had departed in a much more flamboyant way than usual.
Quinn chuckled softly and decided that she’d dismiss everybody and do something relaxing for once. “I’m calling it a day for now. Going to go grab some food. Thanks for being here.”
Malakai raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Aradie hooted softly in her ear. Lynx nodded and zapped himself out of the room.
And Betty fluttered over to her in some concern. “Are you alright, dear?”
“I will be. I just… I think I’m hungry.” Quinn realized how true that was. “So, I’m just going to go.”
Aradie stayed on her shoulder, and Quinn knew she wasn’t getting rid of the owl. She stepped out of her office and walked toward the Culinary Division. Because right then, she sort of wanted to eat her feelings. Maybe if she ate her feelings, she’d completely understand what her feelings actually were, which would be a bonus in the rampant confusion of her current state of mind.
She walked in, and Cook saw her immediately.
“Ah, Librarian, it is good to see you.”
They paused and looked at her, a very strange half frown on their face. Quinn thought it might be concentration or something similar, but she could never really tell.
“Hmm,” they said. “You look like you could use a chocolate croissant. No, a baked apple croissant.”
Before she could say anything, he added, “A baked apple croissant with some chocolate drizzle. How does that sound?”
Quinn just gaped. “You’re going to have to tell me one day how you know exactly what it is I need and when I need it.”
“All right, I will prepare you some comfort food. I believe it is what you need.”
Quinn nodded numbly.
Cook paused before turning back to their stove. “And then perhaps we shall chat.”
Quinn smiled. That was what she really needed, was to chat. Not necessarily about all the dire things, but maybe about some food, and why they always seemed to know exactly what she needed. Something less horrific, or universe ending, seemed precisely what she needed.
Cook handed her a drink that smelled oddly like coffee, but she knew didn’t quite have the bitter taste. It was more like a deep black drink that tasted creamy, but didn’t look it. She’d grown to love it and she’d never even once asked what it was called. A bit of mystery in a place she could technically source any answer, felt kind of wholesome. She took the warm mug in her hands and moved to the closest dining table just outside of the arches and sat down.
She wasn’t sure what this strange melancholy was that had come over her. And she needed to figure it out.
It seemed quieter in the culinary branch than usual. Not as many people lingering around. A few of the far cooking stations were taken over by very small groups of two or three people. But otherwise, there was nobody in the dining room. And Quinn just sat, taking in all the knowledge and looking at the beautiful carvings on the gorgeous double wooden doors that opened into the culinary branch. They were always open. And so you had to sit in a way that allowed you to look at them. She never really got the chance to sit, or she hadn’t really for a long time, to just sit, drink a sort of coffee and think.
This strange sense of melancholy just hung over her, and she couldn’t shake it.
Maybe it was because Misha was the first thing she created in the Library.
That had to be it.
When Quinn first arrived, it was chaos. This system kept asking her to connect to the core, which she didn’t understand. She was supplanted and put into a world of fricking magic. What if they’d wanted to ritually sacrifice her? How was she supposed to know? But then she’d fought bookworms... had a wooden fricking sword before she got a machete. And it just snowballed. It never stopped. She went from having absolutely no idea what she was doing to having a vague idea of what she was doing. And then she created a golem. A supervisory golem who then helped to create all the other staff. And the Library began to actually have a population.
Misha was Quinn’s first task. Her first real interaction with the Library and its system. Misha had been here from the very beginning with her. They’d been kind. They’d helped Quinn. They’d guided Quinn. They’d always had a good answer for Quinn. Even if in the last couple of months there’d been several instances where Misha didn’t seem quite themselves, they’d still been there.
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That was it. That’s what upset Quinn. She was already having difficulty dealing with Escadril’s imminent demise. He was too old to fight the rot. And she understood that on a certain level, not even magic could combat the withering life force.
But Misha... Misha made her feel on a level that she hadn’t realised she could. Quinn had quasi-created Misha. It hurt to think they might be, like, indefinitely damaged. Irretrievably damaged. What if Harish couldn’t salvage them?
Quinn sighed again and looked into the dark liquid in her coffee cup, determined for it to give her answers.
It stared back and did nothing but raise steam.
She sighed.
Aradie leaned in offering feathered warmth.
Cook placed two plates on the table directly in front of her. On one were two beautifully baked apple croissants. She loved these with a passion. On the other plate was a bowl with a healthy serving of Hungarian goulash. Quinn’s mouth began salivating. It was the perfect comfort combo.
“Thank you,” she said.
She closed her eyes as she ate and tried to sort out the inner turmoil inside. She’d get over it. It’d be fine. But it was an ordeal she hadn’t thought to weather. She hadn’t realised how attached she’d become to everything in the Library. What if something happened to Eric? She already knew how badly Malakai’s injuries affected her. What about Dottie? What about Geneva? Hal, even. She was already concerned about for tomorrow.
She took a deep breath and another bite of goulash. So the solution, as always, was that she needed to get stronger. Damn those books needing to be correctly absorbed and given time to percolate.
Quinn took her time eating, despite the fact that Cook sat next to her. The silence was companionable, and maybe that was just what she needed right then.
They weren’t looking at anything in particular. They weren’t even watching her or the way she ate, which was good because that would have been kind of creepy. Instead, they just sat there, offering her quiet solace. Perhaps Cook also felt a sense of loss with Misha’s predicament.
“So,” she said, as she wiped her mouth and sat back, feeling full and contented - at least food wise, “Can you tell me how you seem to know everything I either want or need at the time?”
Cook paused before turning their full attention to her. “I am a part of the Library. I am specifically attuned to the Librarian. That is what the cook does, that is what a lot of us do. But as food is so integrally often tied to emotions, I would say that I am perhaps more aware of that aspect of your nature than any of the other golems who are connected to you.”
Quinn blinked. “So you can sort of read my aura on an emotional level?”
Cook cocked their head to one side, as if contemplating that answer. “For want of a better phrase, yes,” Cook said. “While the Library no longer requires sustenance, the Library was once a being, as you are aware. It requires that its Librarian is taken care of, thus it is one of my duties to monitor your moods, your general time of rising, your general amount of sleep. I have researched what I could of earthen history, of food proclivities, and also compiled several databases on the differing humans in the universe and their, shall we say, culinary leanings.”
Quinn grinned, suddenly feeling a little lighter than she had earlier.
“So yes, you, Librarian, are a part of the Library. A big part of serving the Library is making sure that the Librarian is taken care of. And so, this is what I do.”
A thought struck Quinn. “What about Korradine? Did they take care of her too? Did she have problems?” Quinn asked suddenly.
Cook sighed. This time the sound was kind of heavy. “I apologise, Librarian, I do not have access to any of my predecessor’s interpretations. My core was created from scratch. It is brand new. I possess the standard knowledge base for any head of culinary golem. But I have since adjusted and learned.”
Quinn sighed with relief this time. “So you’re not secretly harbouring a different personality inside your core?”
Cook affixed her with a stare. “I understand, Librarian, that this might be difficult for you, but it is a part of who we are. It is how we evolve and develop. I fully believe that even if they are ever so slightly damaged by this event, that Misha will fight, and Misha will pull through, and Misha will return to us.” They paused and their tone softened. “And to you.”
Quinn felt a tear at the corner of her eye and blinked it away, only to have it roll down her cheek. She nodded and took a sip of her rapidly cooling coffee.
“Now, Librarian, are you still hungry? Would you like to chat some more?”
Quinn smiled. She didn’t think Cook was like a dad, but they were definitely somebody that she could open up to, and right then, she was surprised that she hadn’t realised how much she needed it sooner. “Thank you,” she said, “for what it’s worth. Coming down to see you and eating the food you make is kind of one of the highlights of my day.”
Cook grinned. There was always a strange stretching of the mouth line and a sort of blinking and crinkling around the eye slits. “I aim to please, Librarian. It just so happens that, especially for you, it is not a difficult task.”
Quinn grinned as he walked away, feeling a magnitude better than she had when she came down to eat. Still a little melancholy, still a bit down, but perhaps a bit less lost. She stared back into her coffee, which had somehow been refilled. She’d ask Cook about that later, which was when Malakai appeared and sat down wordlessly with her, next to her, with his own cup of drink.
For a little while, they just sat in silence. He nudged her very slightly with his elbow, gently in fact, and she leaned against him and let out a big sigh. They sat like that for several minutes, and Quinn felt a huge relief at knowing that she had people on her side. She had people looking out for her. Heck, she had a freaking dragon looking out for her, king of hell, fairies, sprites even.
“How are you doing?” Malakai asked.
“Oh, you know.”
“Yeah,” he said. “So, you know, Harish is diving into this in a practical frenzy.”
“Ah,” Quinn said, clutching the mug once again in her fingers. “Any news on if it’s going to work?”
Malakai shook his head. “It’s more complex than I understand. I’ve worked with technology, but not something to this extent. I’d love to learn about it. I think learning about Golem analytics, considering the amount of time I’m spending in the Library, is probably a very good thing for me to do.”
Quinn pulled away slightly and grinned up at him. “You think you’re going to be around the Library a lot, huh?”
“Well, I mean, I am a supervisor.”
Quinn laughed. “Yeah, you’re a supervisor. Thanks, Mal.”
“You know,” he said, “I think you’re just procrastinating the inevitable.”
“What do you mean procrastinating the inevitable?” Quinn said, suddenly wary.
“I’ve seen your list. I know how long it is. I feel like you’re just avoiding getting it started.”
Quinn groaned. “But I haven’t put everything in order yet.”
Quinn. If you keep delaying, something’s going to happen and the Library will be no more," His tone was serious, and he continued a little more upbeat. “How about we go get some of the books back? Check how many books we need for the other branches and let’s forge ahead.”
“Fine, I guess we’re not going to let sleeping dragons lie,” she grumbled.
Malakai laughed. “No, we’re not going to let sleeping dragons lie, because I do believe they’re using a book you need as a pillow.”
Quinn sighed dramatically. “Fine. Sleep first, and then let’s go and wake the sleeping dragon and hope the Library’s right and she decides not to eat me.”