Check Out

by Sonia Focke

“What can I do for you today?” The Librarian had perfectly librarianesque wire-rimmed spectacles perched precariously on her snout, a delightfully librarian-y pink cardigan that clashed horribly with her orange scales, and a sign that said “Shhhh!” in large, friendly letters on the wall behind her desk. The spectacles were on a chain.

“I’d like to check out a reality, please,” the being told her, placing a pulsating, prismatic object on the desk.

“Card?”

They handed her their library card. “What happened to the other guy? Hairy, long arms?”

“Just a temp, dear. I had a bout of rot-scale. You can take out one reality at a time for one week. Careful, dear, the late fees are astronomical.”

“Only a week?”

“Longer, and you adapt too much.” She flicked a claw at a sign on the front of the desk. 

It said: “Health Department Warning. The maximum recommended stay in another reality is 7 Standard Equivalent Days. Longer residency can lead to quantum vibrative adaptation to the new reality. A return to Reality 20202 after more than a week’s residence in another reality can have a detrimental effect on your health. Side-effects include: headaches, dizziness, nausea and organ and/or limb luxation.”

“Oh.” The being surreptitiously looked up ‘luxation’ on their neural hook, then looked down at their limbs and decided they liked them in their proper place. They let their gaze wander along the shelves. “Aren’t there any you can stay in longer?”

“Oh, yes.” She readjusted her glasses on her snout. “Not quite as immersive, though. No odifero-tactile elements. You can choose between visual or auditory input, though.”

“Oh. Visual, I guess.”

“Something along these lines?” She gestured to the reality pulsating between them.

“Yes. Er. Something like this, sure.”

“Physical or digital?”

They considered the pros and cons of downloading a reality onto their neural hook, and remembered ‘luxation.’ “Uh, physical please.”

She disappeared into a back room and came back with a rectangular object sporting a brightly-coloured picture on it and enticing words stamped across the top. They picked it up and it fanned out into a fern of thin, densely-worded wings.

“What’s this?”

“A book,” she said.