Milo walked through a shaded and beaten dirt path through the city park with a note card in his fingers.

Mr. Locke,

You have a book of mine, and it is well overdue.

You will promptly return my book, and the fine will be lenient.

You owe me.

“Fuck me,” he muttered,” I suppose I should just rip off the bandaid.”

He pulled out his library card, slid it into nothing, turned it 90 degrees right, and slipped into Baty’s domain. When he arrived, he noticed the lamps were now jars of brilliant glowing insects. He looked around and saw huge stacks of books in rows and clusters, each shifting how many books they had gradually increasing or decreasing without any discernible pattern. He brought out the book in question, holding it aloft.

“Bye, Vick, ya prick,” Milo grinned and opened a random page.

HA HA

BATY IS GOING TO GET YOU KILLED

UNGRATEFUL BR-

Milo closed the book, dropped it on the nearest stack, and witnessed it vanish before it landed.

“It’s about time!”

Milo spun to see a very angry Batty in the exact same outfit as the last he saw, as if time had never changed her.

“Hi,” Milo said sheepishly,” sorry about that. I was, uh, occupied?”

“I do not care,” Baty strode to him and handed him a key card. “That will get you back here after you get my book back. The gutless fool is already dead. Pretty sure he was mauled by something. Return my book to the library, and we are square on your late fee.”

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“Yes, ma’am,” and Milo watched her hand raise and flick him out of the library. He felt like it was intentional that he found himself on his back. Milo decided the disrespect was uncalled for, but that argument wasn’t worth losing his library card.

Milo searched the area with his eyes as soon as he was back on his feet, pulling magic from his being in defense. It seemed mid-morning, and Milo was standing in a forest glade. Forest wasn’t the right word, but he didn’t know how else to describe the surrounding mushrooms looming about. He remembered a few years ago how he had passed through a similar area with Greg. He was told to watch out for the “big bugs” back then. Chances were low it was the same area but not 0.

Milo quickly found a book bag and jacket at the base of one of the mushroom stalks; nobody was there, and the articles seemed to have been there a while. Searching the coat, he found a short journalized record of the owner’s previous jumps and a few observations, an everyday jacket. The bag was anything but ordinary; it was weathered, a dark blue canvas, and threaded tight through with magic.

He inspected the bag, and upon deciding it was functionally harmless, he opened the flap and saw a pure void inside. On a hunch, he stuck his hand inside and thought about pulling out a book, and that’s what happened. Milo grinned like a madman who had just come across a bag of holding because that was precisely what happened. Milo stowed the book, slung the bag over his shoulder, and turned about. His blood ran cold.

The best way to describe what he looked at was the wretched lovechild of a lamprey, orangutan, and H. R. Geiger. He never heard it or even sensed it till he was looking at it, sneaking up on him. He did the first thing that came to mind, which he thought was entirely rational.

“Oh fuck me,” he shouted with all the grace of a child discovering curse words for the first time. The wretched “bug” was around 3 meters away, but Milo wanted it further away. Milo pulled raw energy from the air, threw a wave of magic toward the vile thing, and sharpened it. The bug dodged his attack and launched itself back at Milo.

“Shit.” It can see magic. Milo retaliated with another wave, seizing the bug and slamming it into the ground. It was left stunned. Milo didn’t let the opportunity go to waste. He jumped and stomped on the head with a pure burst of force; just to be safe, he stomped with another burst of conjured flames for good measure. A tad shaken, Milo quickly used the library key he was given, was thrown through the void, and found himself in a faculty breakroom.

The table was laden with coffee, biscuits, jams, and an overburdened tray of jumbo chocolate chip cookies. And there, to the side, sat Batty, sipping tea and reading a book wholly alien.

“Thank you, Mr. Locke,” she said without looking up, “Gregory spoke highly of you, and I’m pleased to see his faith was not misplaced.”

“Um, you’re very welcome,” Milo was a little taken aback by the tonal shift but not enough to comment. He just produced the book from the bag and handed it over. Without looking, she grabbed it, and it vanished.

“Have a cookie. Would you kindly leave? But if you ever need any work, come back another time; always something to do!”

Milo could almost swear she wasn’t the same person who usually tended to him and others. He just grabbed a cookie and left with his key.