HalfWorlder #Wattys2017

Chapter 15-Hidden in plain sight

The Bibliotheca Alexandrina rises like a sun dial from the Mediterranean Sea. Sitting on the edge of the ocean, its huge round, tilted glass roof ascends at an angle from a pool of water, only protected from flooding at its lowest point by a curved dam that holds back the tide. This dam wraps around it, allowing the water to curve gracefully around the building. Inside, 11 levels cascade down through the building leaving room to hold eight million books. It was the Great Library of Alexandria reborn.

We stood in the lobby staring up at each floor, open to the one below. Honeyed hardwood floors warmed the space and huge soaring pillars of Aswan granite held up the slanted roof. Carved text from more than 120 languages graced the granite walls and light poured in from above. It was a sight to behold. While some people sat quietly reading, others, like us, stood jaw dropped taking in the splendor of it.

"Now what do we do?" Alexandra brought us back to reality.

We had come to the reincarnated Library of Alexandria on a hunch. If we couldn't find the old one, perhaps the new one had what we needed. We must have looked confused though, because a young man with a pot-marked face and a crisp uniform soon approached.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, um." Ryan read his map. "We're looking for the museum of antiquities, I think." He turned the map all different directions trying to orient himself.

"Ah, yes." The young man had a heavy accent. He leaned over Ryan's arm, stopping his wild movements, and pointed. "You will find it here."

"Good, thanks."

The young man walked away, job done.

Ryan talked to himself again. "Now, if only Seshat would give us one more hint."

The young man abruptly stopped. He approached again. "Excuse me sir. Maybe I can be of more assistance to you." He reached out and put his hand on Ryan's forearm. Ryan flinched and his face flushed. "Ah yes. Yes I can. I realize now what you truly desire. Would you please come with me?"

Ryan didn't say a word, but followed like the young man had him on a tractor beam. We went with it too, following on his heals to a nearby bank of elevators. Potmark called the lift, softly rocking on his feet, avoiding eye contact with us while we waited, then followed him on. The doors were almost closed when someone forced a hand in and they bounced back.

Our guide took a step back as the intruder pressed in. He wore heavy black glasses and a muted striped turban. His skin was olive and he had an air of aristocracy and overconfidence that made me dislike him at once. Without a word, he leaned against the wall imperiously, his heavy robes rustling as they settled. He was surprisingly young with the start of a clean-lined beard and his face was all perfect angles, but he was hidden under too many layers of stuff to really tell.

Our guide eyed the turban-wearing man and shook his head like he was ridding himself of some memory. There was a hostile energy radiating off the young man but the guide, ever the professional, collected himself, and asked him a single question, extending his hand: "Do you have your library card?"

"Of course," he said with a voice like gravel being raked, and pushed his glasses over his dark eyes and searched his pocket. "Here it is. Now let's carry on." He didn't smile.

Our guide tisked and handed it back. "No sir, I am afraid you do not have the correct clearance for our restricted level. Here you are." He handed back his card and pressed the door open button. "I'm sure you understand. You must have the correct clearance for this level. And you do not." Our guide gestured with his hand to show him off.