5/16/2002

09:54 PM

Athena Library, Second Floor Stacks

This poorly lit room must take up the entire second floor of the library.  
Row upon row of metal shelves, positively drowned in books, march away from
you in evenly-spaced ranks.  Square white pillars at the end of each shelf
bear small dimmer dials slightly below eye level.  The slightly musty smell
of ancient paper surrounds you; the air, dry and thick with dust, tickles
your nostrils.

The stacks spread out all around you, forming a labyrinth of paper and
steel.  Two enclosed stairwells, their small swinging doors marked 'Up' and
'Down', stand at some distance from each other in the central east-west
aisle.


Nicodemus is seated at one of the reading tables that's not in its normal
spot. Nowhere near the normal spot, actually. The table has been dragged a
good 20 feet over towards a wall. The goth has positioned himself between
table and wall in a chair, back solidly against a very immovable object.
There is no sneaking up behind him unless you're Casper the Friendly Ghost.
There are two short stacks of books: a neat one and a pile. He's leafing
through one that's in a transitionary phase.

J.C. is no ghost. At least, most ghosts don't sniffle or give the occasional
low cough, and the sneakers of ghosts don't go squeak against the floor.
Jenny wanders aimlessly through the stacks with wide eyes, the hand that
isn't being used to take care of running nasal fluids being used to run
lightly across the spines.

Nicodemus glances up from the book of the moment as he turns the page,
having noticed the motion, squeak of sneakers, smell, or some combination of
the three. He looks back down again, pretending to have not seen J.C., much
like most people who have tend to look the other way when faced with the
have nots.

J.C. pauses in her directionless perusal of the shelves to squint at one
thick-spined tome with a red cover. Her lips move slightly as she examines
the title, and then, with a grunt, she pulls it off the shelf. Jenny
examines the cover for a moment, then tucks it awkwardly under her arm and
goes hunting for table to read it on, sniffling all the way.

Nicodemus doesn't sniffle or snuff, but does leaf through the book fairly
quickly, probably just skimming or looking at the occasional illustration.
He does glance up from time to time, eyes alighting briefly on the
occasional "guest of the library," and a just a hint of street wisdom to his
actions to those who also possess such knowledge. The book closes, gets
shoved over into the pile of book rubble, and the goth gropes at the
top-most text on the clean pile.