Thwack.
Jill grits her teeth, grip on her pen tightening as she wills herself to focus. Her legal discipline exam won't take itself. If she intends to pass, well… unenthused eyes drift to a discouragingly large textbook.
Thwack.
Jill launches out of her seat as if the desk has personally victimized her. She stalks toward the nuisance, ready to give whoever is responsible a rather harsh reminder of library etiquette. A clinking sound has joined the intrusive chorus and when Jill rounds the corner, she halts in her tracks.
A middle-aged man wearing a utility belt and what can only be described as a miner's helmet is scanning the shelf before him. He removes a book, briefly examining the title before -thwack- smacking it against his forehead.
A plethora of questions flood her mind, what and why and who, but most importantly, "Can you keep it down, please?"
"Can't," he quips, never looking up from his task. "Working."
"I'm studying," she snaps, and the man before her snorts.
"At 9:30 on a Friday night?"
A judgmental brow arches as he begins tapping on a device strapped to his wrist. Rather than be baited, Jill crosses her arms in defiance. "You’re not supposed to have electronics in here."
“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t have to redo all of classic lit just because my boss-” he pauses, panicked eyes inspecting her. “You’re not from HR, are you?”
His eyes narrow, leaning forward and taking an obnoxiously deep sniff.
“No, definitely a contemporary.” He winces in disgust, nose crinkled as he turns back to his work.
He's quite clearly bonkers, with no intention of quieting down. Still, her stubborn curiosity won’t let her walk away without knowing, "What are you doing?"
"Reading, obviously," he deadpans, smacking another book into his forehead. Her silence must speak volumes because he waves a dismissive hand, "Osmosis Learning Helmet. Give it a few centuries. Humanity will love it."
"You say that like you're not one of us." Given his dress sense, she’s inclined to believe him.
"I'm not. Well, not human as you know them. I only came here for the quiet.” His eyes cut pointedly to her, annoyed by her presence.
Jill forges on, if only to rile him. “You’re an alien?”
“What? No, don’t be ridiculous. I’m from the future.”
"And you chose here?" she snarks. "Why? The excellent Dewey Decimal system?”
A knowing smile curls his cheek. “You don’t have teleport-blockers in your security and the books aren't black-listed yet.”
A worried brow climbs Jill's forehead. “There’s going to be a massive book ban in the future?”
“Yes! Sort of, well, no, actually. More of a ban-by-attrition.” He scoops up a paperback, glancing at the cover before making a face and shoving it back as if it offends him. “It’s not very efficient, is it? Reading things word by word. It’s so much easier when you can just-” He brandishes a rather girthy hardback, before-
Thwack.
He shivers, surprisingly entertained as he glances at the cover. “Agatha Christie. Didn’t see that ending coming.”
"But reading is fun," Jill protests. She isn't sure when nonsense became possibility. But it certainly is believable that humanity would spoil its own leisure time for the sake of convenience.
“Sure, but it’s so much work,” he whines. “You have to hold it and it takes so much time. It’s much faster to drink them.”
He taps the vials attached to his belt. Jill's eyes go wide, impossibly more confused. “Those things are books?”
“Yes! Well, they will be.” A tint of red stains suddenly shy cheeks. “Still working on the formula. Try it!”
Before she can object, he's thrusting a grayish tube in her direction. Jill nearly gags, shoving him away. “It smells like sewer!"
The man frowns, twisting the vial to read its title. “Ah, Les Mis. Rebellion in 1832. Don’t imagine it smelled great.”
He tucks the offending odor away. Jill is still trying to purge the smell from her olfactory senses when-
“Try this one.” He assaults her with another sample, ivory green in hue. This time, she takes caution, reading the label in advance. “Robert Frost Collection,” she observes, risking a tentative inhale. Her eyes light up, delighted to find, “It smells like pine.” Encouraged, she takes a deeper breath. “And snow.”
The man before her beams. “Seemed appropriate for his subject matter."
"I still don’t understand. What’s with all the..."
Thwack
She taps her head with a nearby classic. It stings more than she thought it would, and she must say, she admires his diligence.
“I told you. I’m reading.” He stares at her as if she's a simpleton, gesturing to his helmet. “Standard Biblio-Cognitive Neuro-Recal Synapsification.”
Perhaps she is a simpleton because his explanation falls on ignorant ears. “Biblio-what, now?”
He deflates. “What century is this?”
"Twenty-first."
“Oh,” he nods, as if that explains everything. "I bop it into my brain and from there I splice it into a consumable liquid and flavor it to suit the book. Easy.”
He flashes her a grin. Jill stares back in awe, a question ready on her lips when a beep disturbs the silence. A hologram of a stony-faced woman protrudes from the device on his wrist. His expression sobers instantly.
“Crap. That's my boss. Gotta go.”
"Wait-" Jill starts, only to be interrupted.
"What did you say you were studying?"
"Legal Studies."
His eyes light up, rummaging through his belt before tossing her a periwinkle tinted vial. "It might taste funny. Still working on the recipe."
Jill catches it, glancing down to read, The History of Human Law- 1760BC-2257AD
"You can keep it. It's not exactly a best seller." Breath stolen, Jill looks up in time to watch as he brings a finger to his smirking lips. “Shh, don’t tell.”
He vanishes, leaving behind nothing but disturbed dust. No more clinking of vials, no more thwack. The library falls blessedly quiet. Jill's grip on the test tube tightens. Her exam just got a whole lot easier.