By this art you may contemplate the variation of the 23 letters….

—Anatomy of Melancholy, Pt. 2, Sec. II, Mem. IV

—The Library of Babel, Jorge Luis Borges

(Strive 3:2)

All the pages in the dead bookbat were blank, except one that had an L printed on it in an absurdly large font. I flipped back and forth, but the other pages remained empty. Just one massive L. El found that hilarious, and I was glad at least one of us was having a good time.

“Maybe we need to catch more of the flappy bastards,” she said.

It was easier said than done. The bookbats were wary of us now, after I'd taken one down. I heard flapping on occasion from far above, but they must’ve had some way to tell each other to stay away from the asshole with the plunger. I switched to my pellet gun and took a few potshots that ricocheted off the ceiling.

“I got this,” said El, rubbing her paws together. “When I call out, you shoot.” She began to clamber up the nearest bookshelf, surprisingly agile, and after a few seconds, disappeared into the darkness.

“What if I hit you by mistake?” I called, but there was no response. Grimacing, I held the pellet gun at the ready, waiting for the signal.

“Here!” El’s voice came down from above. “Gotcha— gah!”

A shadow tumbled from the sky and slammed onto the ground right next to me. El was wrestling with a hefty tome, which flapped in a vain attempt to escape.

“Jesus, El! Let go so I can shoot it!” I aimed the pellet gun at the two shifting masses.

She released the bookbat, and it bolted upwards to rejoin its fellows. I pulled a few shots and by dumb luck grazed the grimoire. It fell with a heavy thump, still flapping weakly.

“You should’ve booked it when you had the chance,” I said, crushing it underfoot.

“Impressively corny,” El commented from where she’d fallen. “Three out of five Schwarzeneggers.”

“Everyone’s a critic.”

This second bookbat corpse was better-preserved than the first, and we could clearly make out a page marked with the letter X. Placing the two side-by-side, we had L and X, in no particular order.

“Lox?” I asked. “Xtra-Large? Excellent? Excalibur? Expelliarmus?”

“Egg salad,” said El.

I rubbed my eyes. “If it’s meant to spell something, we’re probably missing letters. Still, I’d like to avoid fighting more of these guys if we can help it.”

Cross-referencing the ASL fingerspelling cheat sheet, I signed an L and X experimentally, in both orders. As expected, nothing changed.

It was almost by accident that I hit upon it. I was going down a mental list of words containing those two letters when, three letters into “luxurious,” light flared out from my bracelet, resolving into a lantern-flame that hovered on my hand. Its glow was cold and sterile, and it illuminated a hidden arrow on the floor that pointed to one of the room’s exits.

“Lux,” I said aloud. “Let there be light.”

“Wow,” said El. “God complex much?” She copied me, and a smaller lantern-flame appeared in her hands. She danced it between her fingers.

“How did you do that?” I asked. My flame remained stubbornly still, no matter how I twisted my hand.

“Must be a secret skill of press-titty-ficators.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

We followed the line as it led us deeper through the library. I took the opportunity to pop the remaining two candies from the second floor into my mouth, one after the other. The green one was a shock, like last time, and a message appeared on my udjat eye.

You feel agile!

The blue one was comparatively mild, like soaking in a mint-fresh bath.

You feel mystical! Your magic has increased from Zilch to Nada!

With that, my Lux-lamp seemed to expand outwards by a small amount, and I grinned.

I was starting to put two and two together. It seemed to take multiple pills or candies to bring an attribute to the next level, and each level would bring a discrete improvement to the corresponding abilities. So far, so good.

We followed the illuminated arrow to its end at a chamber, hexagonal like the rest, but with five crimson-colored walls. The sixth was covered in a kind of coarse parchment that shimmered with motes of light. I spelled E-X with my kada hand to Examine it, and my contact lit up.

Spill my blot upon this page,

Find the way to your next stage.

I open doors with but a word,

They say I’m mightier than the sword.

What am I?

“‘Word’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘sword,’” I observed after a moment. “And we need to find a pen.”

“Imagine that,” said El. “The king of pedants doesn’t have a pen.” With a flourish, she produced an elegant quill from her inventory. “I thought ahead and lifted this from the hotel lobby. Among other things.” The kleptomaniacal raccoon sauntered up to the wall-paper and pressed the quill into it.

The parchment drank in ink thirstily before blooming into a swirling design of its own accord. I gaped as lines and curves resolved themselves into a miniature semblance of a door, which swung open, leading into the page.

“Very cool,” I muttered. “Very allegorical.”

“I’m an artist,” said El. “I create worlds at a whim.”

“Good job. Now, let me see that pen for a bit.”

“No.” El clutched the quill protectively. “It’s mine.”

“Okay,” I said. “Then can you draw me an exit that’s not raccoon-sized?”

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(Strive 4:1)

The paper door led to a tunnel that felt rough and drafty, as if the walls were unfinished, leaving sketchy holes for wind to enter. Our Lux spells cast an eerie glow on the sides of the passage. The narrow path twisted and turned and split, and without the light we would’ve been utterly lost. It was a relief when we finally stumbled out into an expansive cavern the size of a football field.

We stood at the edge of a small crater, a few dozen feet above the mirror-smooth surface of an underground lake. The light cast by our rings reflected off the water, illuminating an island in the center strewn with glittering rocks. That seemed likely to be our destination, but no footpaths led down to the water or the island.

Swimming wasn’t my concern, although I wasn’t thrilled about it. I wasn’t scared to jump either. Definitely not. It was more the fact that the mystery cave water could harbor any number of eldritch horrors in its depths, or even just good old-fashioned piranhas. It would be wisest to—

“Cowabunga!” cried El as she leaped off the ledge to splash down far below. She popped her head out and cackled in glee.

“You good down there?” I called. “No monster eels or anything?”

“Nothing. Water’s clear and cool.”

I stripped down to my boxers, stowing the rest of my clothing in my inventory where it’d be safe and dry. I stepped up to the edge, almost slipping on the moss.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Jump as far from the wall as you can. Stay vertical, like a pencil. Pinch your nose. Clench those cheeks so water doesn’t get all up in your business. Three, two—

“Just jump already!” said El.

I pushed off the rock and fell for a long moment, then slapped down in the water. Every muscle in my body tightened, and I surfaced with a gasp.

“Clear and cool? It's fucking freezing!”

The raccoon paddled around me in circles, chittering with laughter. She had ample fur to insulate her, the cheeky little asshole.

But I didn’t. The cold had me paddling like a madman for the island in the center of the lake. As soon as I touched land, I dragged myself ashore and lay there shivering. My Lux spell shone with a cold light, providing me with no warmth whatsoever.

My body was too drenched for clothes, but I was also freezing my balls off, so I compromised by donning the bathrobe Hilbert had given me. Now that I was dressed like a Cancun resort-goer, I was ready to explore.

Next to an arena scattered with piles of metal cubes, a cheerful vending machine stood like a save point before a boss battle. The dispenser had a circular depression for my bracelet in place of a coin slot, and it chimed when I inserted my wrist.

Welcome, Xavier Shaw, to the Fourth Floor Vending Station.

You have 1 free credit remaining.

I selected something called a Muscle Fiber Stick, which appeared to be a piece of red licorice, and put it in my mouth. As I chewed, I was rewarded by a taste of gristly meat and a surge of heat throughout my body that compressed all the pain of a weeklong fever into five seconds. “Geh,” I said.

You feel beefier! Your strength has increased from Nada to Zip!

I grimaced at that, but the next message brightened my mood.

Your strength and Corpus aspect have unlocked a new technique!

You’ve learned the basic technique Harden, a spell of ephemeral self-protection.