Cecilia Lynn-Jacobs

Little did he know,

A small bit of talent, but no desire, no burning need to write.

A boring mediocrity.

But other than that, promising.

White.

He was even handsome in that approachable way that makes everyone so much more willing to hear whatever shit drips out of your mouth.

And, like I said, family money.

It didn't work.

It didn't... I didn't... It was like a flood on fallow earth.

He couldn't handle all of the ideas.

It washed a lot of him away.

No more books on my tombstone from Caldwell after that, not until I swore that I wouldn't do anything like that ever again.

But I haven't promised you anything, have I, Mal?

There's a library on a space station.

It's vast, the size of an asteroid.

Hundreds of custodians live there.

Their ancestors have maintained the library, and so are their children, on and on until the end of time.

They can't read any of the books.

They know enough to catalog, but letters are just symbols to them, devoid of meaning.

Until one custodian, he decides to try and decipher one of the books.