Chapter 57

“Missing volume? He’s a man!”
After having been escorted to a quiet side exit of the library, Witticker and Edward found themselves again in the middle of an empty street on the island of Manhattan. Witticker, however, was no longer interested in any further traveling. Nor was he interested in his empty stomach which had been growling at him for the past several hours. In fact, he had even temporarily given up rationality in favor of pursuing the answers to his questions, of which he had collected several over the past few hours.
“Well,” began Edward, “it’s complic…”
“No,” howled Witticker, “it’s not. Not this time! A man is not a volume. He’s a man! And there’s another question! Where are all the books? We’ve been across half the country and through more than half of that library and I haven’t seen one! Not a single one! Not even a paperback! And why didn’t that old man answer any of my questions? And who was the guy in that picture? And where are we going? Answer me!”
Edward, having continued to walk since their exit from the library, had cleared roughly a block on Witticker, who stood firm in his obstinacy. Edward turned slowly to look back at his companion, still standing in the heavy shade of the library against the setting sun.
“Son of a bitch,” said Edward, walking back to Witticker at a marked speed, “Fine! You want to know? I’ll tell you. But don’t make it sound like I’ve been hiding it from you! I’m not a goddamn psychic! We’ve been in some pretty tight and, I’ll grant you, bizarre situations, but you’ve never asked me anything that I didn’t tell you. Why do you think I’d start now?”
Witticker didn’t answer, darting his eyes to the side to avoid Edward’s accusatory gaze.
“Just come with me and I’ll tell you everything, but please, come on! We have to keep moving! If this guy is where I think he might be I want to find him before he disappears again.”

*~~*

A synopsis of the discussion between Witticker and Edward on their trip through Manhattan

- A man is a man. A man is not a volume.
o However, a man can be a librarian and a librarian can be a ‘volume’.

- In the New York Public Library there are no books, just people.
o It was determined after the Great Decline that books were no longer suitable containers of the world’s knowledge due to their tendency to decay and the ease in which they were able to be stolen.
 Specific people were chosen to be the vessels of the knowledge until a more permanent solution could be found.
• These people were selected based on memory skills and capacity for extended thought.
o Upon being imparted to the human ‘volumes’ the books were destroyed to insure the security of information in the library and to enhance the value of their new human containers.

- Every ‘volume’ is part of a ‘collection’ referring to their specific content area.

- Each ‘volume’ is required to contain their own information while also attending lectures by other ‘volumes’.
o This is meant to expand each ‘volume’s individual understanding of their own content and how it pertains to the whole.

- Edward was a ‘volume’.
o His content area was ‘late 20th and early 21st century history’.
 He was expelled from the library for teaching the tenets of Perceptionism, a subject banned from the library due to the destructive nature of its past.

- The old man in the portrait was a very old and peculiar ‘volume’ named Ronald Yoder.
o He belonged to no ‘collection’ and his content area was classified under the title ‘grammar rules’.
o The actual title was ‘dreams and the action of dreaming’.
 He was forbidden to discuss or lecture on any of the information he possessed.
• In 2182 he went missing and, despite the best efforts of the library, has not been seen for past thirty years.
o The only information forwarded by Malcolm Dietrichs about Ronald Yoder was that at the time of his disappearance he had been researching the emergence of the Golden Acolytes with a near fanatical interest.

*~~*

“…and I think,” said Edward as he climbed over a concrete roadblock, “that I know where this guy is.”
Edward turned back and extended his hand to help Witticker over the concrete fence.
“And if he is there, well, I don’t know,” grunted Edward as Witticker scrambled over the wall, “It’s possible he might know who you are.”
“Great,” grunted Witticker, “it’s about time somebody told me.”
Edward chuckled as he scrambled up a pile of debris and quickly jumped down to the sidewalk below. Witticker cautiously followed, carefully climbing up the pile of fallen rocks that Edward had bounded over so deftly.
“Hey,” called Edward from the lower sidewalk, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where did you pull that question from in Dietrichs’ office?”
“What question?” asked Witticker as he hopped over the peak of the stone hill.
“You know, the whole ‘devolution of the human race’ thing? That was quite a shocker. Not a whole lot of people can get Dietrichs’ attention like that.”
Witticker hung from the edge of the stone pile, checking his destination below, before finally releasing, landing on the uneven sidewalk with a heavy grunt.
“Oh, that. Well, to tell you the truth, I was picking around in Brisby’s white box last night after you fell asleep. Turns out he kept a research journal on there. There wasn’t a whole lot of fact, just a bunch of theories. He had an interview with one guy who called the absence of dreaming a devolutionary phenomenon that started a long time ago. He was pretty paranoid about the whole thing, Brisby I mean. Pretty convinced that it wasn’t natural. Something that someone did to us. He just couldn’t prove it. One thing’s for sure though, he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t know anything about me. I searched the whole damn thing.”
“Sorry,” murmured Edward, walking beside his friend down the crumbling sidewalk.
“Don’t worry about it,” replied Witticker, “the truth’ll have to come out eventually.”

*~~*

The two men had been traveling through the deteriorating streets for nearly thirty minutes and were slowly advancing on the edge of the island city. Seagulls greeted them overhead and the wind from the water’s edge blew upon their faces as it ran through the narrow industrial valley.
“But where are we going?” asked Witticker, following Edward through a narrow path between two decaying automobiles, “and how do you know he’s going to be there at all? What would bring him here?”
“That,” answered Edward, pointing at a large rectangular building that had just appeared as they passed out of the maze of streets. The rectangle stood next to the water on one of its smaller side so that its length reached towards the sky. Flagpoles were planted in a curved line in front of the building, empty of the diverse flags they once flew. Across the length of the there were holes where windows once existed, small rectangular gaps divided into very complex and mathematically equal sections.
“This is a very ancient testament to an old and invested hobby of his.”
Witticker scanned the massive structure from top to bottom. His eyes were first drawn to the great height of the building, then to the thick cloud of birds darting in and out of the structure, and finally to an odd spectacle occurring in the parking lot in front of the building. In the paved area past the series of flagpoles a small figure could be seen jumping and waving its arms in frantic and irregular patterns towards the building. From a distance the figure appeared to be a small man with a thick beard clad in ragged clothing, a small satchel flying into the air at his side as he gestured erratically, shaking his hands furiously at the building. Witticker shook his head in disbelief as Edward began his walk towards the plaza.
“Really?” murmured Witticker as he followed Edward through the intersecting streets.

*~~*

As they approached the empty lot the old man, recognizing he was no longer alone, stopped his wild gesticulations and hunched over in the direction of his observers. He hid his face with one hand and pointed at them with the other.
“What is he doing?” whispered Witticker as they walked forward.
“I have no idea. Do the same.”
Edward bent over and covered his face with his own hand, pointing at the old man with the other. Witticker quickly followed suit. The three men sat in the position for several minutes as the old man rocked from side to side, letting out a series of low grunts. Finally he peered out through his fingers and let out a high pitched cry. He jumped up from his crouching position and ran towards Witticker and Edward.
“You!” shouted the man excitedly, “You!”
“Me,” answered Edward, returning the enthusiasm to the old man from his crouched state. The old man quickly turned and ran back to the parking lot, jumping and shaking his fists at the building. Edward slowly began to rise and gestured to Witticker to do the same.
“What should we do?” hissed Witticker.
“I don’t know,” murmured Edward, “You’re the one with all the questions. Go ask him.”
Witticker chuckled and looked to Edward only to find a face devoid of comical intent.
“Are you serious?”
Edward pointed towards the old man frolicking on the empty pavement.
“It’s him or no one.”
Witticker turned and stared at the man for several moments, observing his actions. He didn’t appear to be dangerous and he was the only source of potential information that they’d been able to track down thus far. Witticker struggled inside himself, never having imagined that the answers to all his questions would be coming from such an abnormal informant.
After several moments of consideration Witticker shrugged his shoulders and began walking towards what he perceived to be a very nonsensical situation. As he began his advance the old man froze in his movements, standing very rigid. Witticker stopped a few feet away from the ragged man and waved in greeting. The old man lifelessly mimicked Witticker’s gesture, waving his hand from side to side in a dull back and forth.
“Hello,” started Witticker, “do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Questions!” cried the old man as he jumped back towards the building, “questions don’t answer anything! Questions can’t fill the sky with birds and clouds and sun and there’s nothing there but answers!”
Witticker looked back to Edward who shrugged his shoulders. He turned back to the old man.
“Okay, let’s try this one. Are you Ronald Yoder?”
The old man raised his chin in the air and ran his fingers through his lengthy beard.
“Yoder? I know him! I remember him! I feel him, somewhere! Somewhere farther than the ocean of questions and answers and birds in the buildings.”
“Good,” answered Witticker, “do you think you or he could tell me about something?”
The old man nodded vigorously in the affirmative.
“Great! Do you know anything about someone named Witticker?”
“Oh!” cried the old man, “I know that! I remember that I know that! Just a little boy! They took him from everything! They took him to keep him!”
“Who took him?”
“The people in the biggest buildings,” mumbled the old man, suddenly looking much more anxious, “In the darkest rooms. In the longest hallways. They wanted to make sure they had one. In case. In case. In case they needed one!”
“Needed one what?”
“A dreamer! They needed one in case they ever needed to know more about it! About all the things it does and means and knows. You can’t just make it disappear! It doesn’t just disappear! And if it comes back and you don’t have one then you’ve lost control! All the control! They had to have one to keep control!”
“What do you know about dreams?”
“I know the world! I know the whole world about it! But no one else can know. They aren’t around anymore. They left. They’re gone.”
“Where did they go?”
“Away.”
“Why?”
The old man rushed towards Witticker and pulled him down close to the ground.
“Because they forgot,” whispered the old man with a shocking sincerity and tone, “they forgot them!”
As Witticker considered Roland Yoder’s words an amplified voice filled the cavern between the buildings.
“Edward St. Cavalier. Stop and stay where you are. You have committed a crime and are to be detained.”
Birds rushed from the building windows as Witticker turned to Edward who was already staring down the shoreline. A mass of people had appeared a block down on the coast of the archaic city structure. They were dressed in black and stood in close and rigid lines, uniform in their appearance. The black column stretched across the coast in an unending number. Edward turned back towards Witticker whose face had fallen loose with shock.
“It’s time to go.”