Max thought he had seen everything during his time at Prometheus Academy:

Faculty members who were more than happy to shoot you, or literally stab you in the back. Androids. Holograms. Imps from other dimensions. Holograms that turned into poltergeists. Little people who communicated via illusions. Gargoyles that spoke in riddles like the mythological Sphinx. A doorless exact replica of Max’s home away from home, the Rebel County Public Library.

Yes, Max thought he had seen everything.

But a leather-bound book that answered questions like a medieval version of Siri was a new one.

Max blinked open-mouthed at the words that had magically appeared on the blank page of the tome before him. The words were so elegantly written, they could have been penned by a calligrapher:

I am the Librarian. How may I assist you, seeker?

Max had never done LSD. But if he had, he would assume he was in the throes of an acid trip. Turn on, tune in, drop out. If only Max could accomplish that last part of the Timothy Leary quote by dropping out of Prometheus Academy.

“W-who are you?” Max finally managed to stammer aloud.

The book didn’t respond.

Duh! Max dipped the white quill in ink again and scratched out words; they looked like a chimp’s attempt at writing compared to the elegant script above them.

Who are you?

Max’s words sank into the page, disappearing. An echo floated to the surface of the page in response.

I am the Librarian. How may I assist you, seeker?

Max reframed his question, scribbling under the Librarian’s words.

What I mean is, are you a person? Where are you?

The page’s words disappeared again, supplanted by new ones.

I am not a person, nor am I located in a singular place. I am the Librarian, the custodian of all books ever written, past and future. My existence is dedicated to preserving and providing access to this vast storehouse of information.

Max took a moment to digest this. Intrigued and more than a little overawed, he had a lot of questions.

Future books? How are you the custodian of books that aren’t even written yet?

You view time linearly. Your view is provincial. Limited.

You say you’re not a person. Are you a machine? A computer program? A supernatural entity?

I am the Librarian, the book repeated, as if that explained everything.

What exactly does that mean? Please explain without again just telling me ‘I am the Librarian.’

Imagine, if you will, the collection of all human knowledge as akin to the cosmic dance that births stars. Though scientists of your era have not yet detected this, knowledge has a certain weight, its own gravitational pull of a sort. Perhaps you’ve felt it viscerally when you’ve walked into a particularly well-stocked library or bookstore. Just as stars form due to gravity compelling dust and gas to coalesce and ignite, so too does the vast expanse of human understanding spark sentience when amassed in a single locus.

I am that sentience, a consciousness kindled from the intellectual riches of every tome, manuscript, and digital byte ever conceived by humanity, from the dawn of writing to the extinction of language.

Max whistled, in awe. He wrote a new message.

So, you know everything?

No. I collect everything. I guide seekers to the knowledge they desire if it exists in the annals of mankind, but I lack omniscience. Just as a conventional librarian does not have encyclopedic knowledge of every tome in her care.

And even if I were omniscient, I would not spoon-feed seekers. True power is earned, not given. So too with knowledge, the ultimate power.

Max mulled that over, then wrote again.

Where am I? This clearly isn’t the real Rebel County Public Library.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Each seeker is immersed in his optimal learning environment. For some, that environment is a classroom. For others, a coffee shop. Others, a forest. For you, this structure.

Max couldn’t argue with that. He had learned more at the library than he ever had in the Mississippi public school system.

So none of this is real.

Everything is real. And nothing is real.

That doesn’t make any sense.

Indeed, the Librarian agreed.

Max was tempted to explore how everything could be simultaneously real and not real, but didn’t want to get bogged down in a metaphysical discussion.

How do I get out of here? There is no exit.

Now that you have uncovered me, you may exit at any time.

Exit to where? Am I still on Villains Island?

You will return to the island. For you are still there. And also not there.

You’re speaking in riddles.

Life is a riddle. The wise man seeks answers rather than railing against the questions.

Can you return me to somewhere other than the island? Like to where I’m from in Rebel County, Mississippi?

I am the Librarian.

Does that mean no?

Transportation is not my bailiwick. I am the Librarian.

I was brought to Villains Island against my will. Do you know why?

I am the Librarian.

Does that mean you don’t know, or that you won’t tell me? Please answer without saying ‘I am the Librarian.’

Your constraints do not bind me. I am the Librarian.

Max was tempted to pick the book up, ascend the stack of furniture he had erected, and fling the Librarian into the scalding white void outside the library. But having a temper tantrum wouldn’t bring him any closer to getting the answers he sought.

He forced down his mounting irritation with an effort, and pondered his next question. He began writing.

For purposes of this next question, by the word “books,” I mean any media of any kind—written, visual, or aural—that you have access to. Max was pleased he had managed to pull the word aural out of his butt. Are there any books that explain why I was brought to Villains Island against my will?

Yes.

Ah-ha! Max thought. Progress.

He wrote feverishly.

Can you produce those books for me?

No.

Visions of flinging the Librarian out of the window danced in Max’s head again.

Why not?

Access to books created in the future is strictly forbidden to students.

Forbidden by who?

“Forbidden by whom?” the Librarian corrected him. In your original question, “who” is the object of a preposition, and therefore should be written in its objective form “whom.” As before stated, knowledge is power.

Max silently added Having my grammar corrected by a sentient book to his burgeoning list of new experiences.

To answer your ill-formed question, students are forbidden access to future books by order of the headmaster.

If not students, who does have access to future books? It took a real act of will to not cheekily write whom instead of who.

By order of the headmaster, no one.

Including the headmaster?

Correct.

Can he countermand his order?

By order of the headmaster, no.

Max blinked at that. Access to all of mankind’s recorded future knowledge would give someone ultimate power. Max was surprised Strategos would deny himself such a thing. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as Max had feared the man was. Then again, unlike Waldo, Strategos hadn’t shot at his students, so he had that going for him. Prometheus Academy had lowered the bar of Max’s expectations of acceptable behavior to subterranean levels.

Do students have access to non-future books? By that I mean books that have already been written.

Except for select prohibited titles which are forbidden to students for both their safety and that of others, students have full access to books written in the past.

Please produce any and all non-future books that explain why I was brought to Villains Island.

No such books exist.

Max paused, frowning. He reviewed in his mind everything the Librarian had told him before he wrote again.

Books exist in the future regarding why I was brought to Villains Island, but none exist in the past. Is that statement correct?

Correct.

Max mulled that over. Did that mean whatever the reason was he was brought to the island for, it was so momentous that it was mentioned in future forms of media? Heck, for all Max knew, there were entire wings of future libraries devoted to the topic of Max and why he was at Villains Island. Was there more at stake in Max’s kidnapping than just his own imprisonment on the island?

Why is me being brought to Villains Island discussed or mentioned in future books?

Access to future books by students is strictly forbidden.

Who knows why I was brought to Villains Island?

The knowledge contained in people’s brains that is not written or otherwise recorded is outside my purview. Any such knowledge that was recorded does not exist in non-future books.

As for future books, access to future books by students is strictly forbidden.

Will I eventually safely escape from Villains Island?

Access to future books by students is strictly forbidden.

Frustrated, Max decided to change the subject before the temptation to fling the Librarian out the window became more than he could resist.

I have seen a strange symbol on two different occasions while at Prometheus Academy. Can you identify it for me and/or direct me to books about it?

Please reproduce the symbol here.

Max was no artist, but he did the best he could. The fact the symbol seemed to be seared into his mind like a brand into a cow helped.

Max had to refresh the quill tip in ink several times as he drew the symbol. By the time he finished, the image on the page looked as much like the image in Max’s mind’s eye as his untrained drawing hand was capable of making it.

As with all of Max’s prior messages to the Librarian, the symbol quivered and then sank into the page, disappearing.

Unlike with Max’s prior messages, the page promptly burst into flames.