She really knew nothing about Him – she was a newcomer here. While she had spoken to The Writer as if she knew Him, the truth was it was nothing more than a bluff. She looked out across all the domains at once, and felt an intense sadness. Everywhere she looked was despair and destruction. “What happened to Him,” she wondered. Â She had seen a life that was worse than this once, and knew what led up to it.
The Muse knew she was there for a reason – it’s never a random thing when a Muse arrives.
She knew where her real home was – this certainly wasn’t it. There was no warning that she was going elsewhere. One moment she was where she belonged, the next she wasn’t. But if she’s here, there’s a reason, a set of important changes that would be coming for Him.
She had made her first stop to the most important Aspect to His personality – The Writer. Now it was time for a stop to the second most important friend she could make here – The Librarian.
Stepping into the library was a shock. She had become accustomed to a totally different setup for memories, all the memories were held in an eclectic collection of books. Â She understood the Library where she came from. Sure, quite a few of them were inaccessible for a variety of reasons, but what she was witnessing now was chaos.
Long boxes of what appeared to be 3″ x 5″ index cards were stacked haphazardly everywhere. There were shelves, but few of the boxes of index cards were on the shelves. Boxes lay everywhere, some with their lids off, spilling their contents across the floor. She bent down and picked up a handful of cards, flipping through them quickly. Random facts about one of His previous lovers were contained on this set of cards.
“If you would be so kind, please place those back exactly as you got them.” She looked up, and a handsome man in his fifties was staring at her from behind a wooden help desk, his head tilted forward slightly so he was looking at her from above a set of bi-focals. “Yes, it’s a mess, but moving the cards around only makes it harder to find things. Keep what order there is in tact, please.”
She bent down, and placed the cards as close to exactly where she got them. “So much for an entrance,” she thought, “The Librarian seems to be in much better shape than The Writer was, even if the library it’s self could use some work.” She stood, wiping her hands together to remove dust from the aged cards.
“What can I do for you,” he asked.
“I’m looking to find out what happened to Him. How things got this way.”
The Librarian raised his eyebrows, “So I was right – you’re not from here. I didn’t think I recognized, but sometimes new Aspects appear. A new Aspect or a redefined Aspect would know what happened. Who are you?”
She smiled, “I’m The Muse.”
He nodded to her, “Pleased to meet you. Let’s see if I can get some of your questions answered.” The Librarian moved quickly, clearing off a reading desk behind the help desk. The Muse approached as the table top was nearly uncovered, and took a seat.
The Librarian placed a box of cards in front of her, and took off the lid. “This will get you started.”
She pulled out the first card, read it quickly, then moved to the next. By the time she had read five cards, The Librarian had placed three more boxes of cards on the table. “Wait, wouldn’t it just be easier to have you tell me what happened to Him?”
“Oh no. Detail, my lady, details. He likes the details of events. What people were eating. The facial expressions on people’s faces during a discussion. The words that were used. He takes all those details, and forms pretty complex observations about the nature of people that way. It would be against His way of things to just quickly explain it in gross terms. You’ll want the details!”
It seemed to The Muse that the process was taking forever, but she plowed on. Slowly but surely the His history began to emerge, building a picture of who he had been, what happened, and who he was now.
She didn’t have to read the entire library, thankfully. The Librarian had handled the job sorting His life and only hitting the most important threads that occurred. It was still heinously detailed – even with The Librarian providing just what was necessary it took weeks. She continued non-stop. She didn’t need to rest or sleep. She was a Muse.