Breathing in, breathing out, the student anxiously tried to take in in his new surroundings: towering halls of books and literature, bustling students, the chair he sat on. Once this class ended everyone will head to the exits. Rows of seats filled to the brim as passerby's came and saw the new lecture hall. Eager faces sat patiently, although some began to take notes already, and others started speculating with classmates about opposing ideas, methods concerning substantiality and corporeality. A thousand voices in languages familiar and unfamiliar, far too many conversations to listen in on, even as they were died out. So, he closed his eyes, thanked his God, looked around once more at the magnificent sight, and with an innocent yet determined smile, began his first day.
Although the Library is generally a quiet place, there are designated areas where noise at a reasonable level is allowed: the commons, cafes, break rooms or settlements, lecture halls that sanction noise even at louder levels. Intended for tutors to give their lessons and scholars or apprentices to rigorously investigate what is true and what is deemed to be true enough. This particular hall that everyone was walking to was associated with the disciplines that are inclined toward investigations of reality in which anyone can come and find themselves grasping the depths (or introductory material), of any related field. Naturally, they attracted large crowds who were curious to hear what other Wanderers had to say.
For the Student, as he dipped the brim of his conical hat and hid his body with a navy blue cloak, today was as exciting as it was sudden. Aside from not being a fan of crowds, the past few hours had been too quick to fully process.
…
"How long will it take me to go to the Library?" .
"Millenia, decades, a century, who knows." Said the brother superior. "You've only started for a few months now so I wouldn't worry about it too much. Our work might be dedicated towards knowledge, but also wisdom; sharing what we've learned to benefit the less privileged. The gift of sharing wisdom must be as present as the love of knowledge."
The Student stared out of the window next to him.
"You might be wise beyond your years young one, but lack experience…"
"Experience" in this case really meant friends, a group of people he can open himself up to, something far and few in-between. He had a whole family of people he could connect with, but now they're so far away, written letters is the only way he keeps in touch. There are very few people his age here, and those who are get sent on assignments beyond the boundaries of his new home.
The bells rang, and the Student began to quiet himself.
He choose this life, he can leave anytime he wants. This is a vocation he wants to pursue despite the sacrifices. Monotony isn't what wears him down, neither is it the heavy books he reads or the labors of the day. The conversations he's in are amazing and thought provoking; a constant challenge to the calling towards charity. Yet he lacks something, and only asks for the chance to meet new friends. To offer what he has learned to them, but focus on his duties, laugh as much as learn. Where will that come from? When can he go to do all of this? What place would-
Then a door appeared in front of him.
…
The Student was rushed off to the start of an introductory course that was starting the same day. Abruptly entrusted with the mission to learn for the sake of benefiting others, continuing the work of their predecessors. They were more alone than ever before…
Everyone suddenly silenced themselves as class began with the lecturer, introducing himself as Dr. Tada, professor of Thautophysics, called for their attention. Lifting his hand, started with a simple question: "Now, is reality defined by a united agreement of understood ideas, or by concrete truths which can be perceptively approached in different ways?"
"Well, what is reality?" Asked a disembodied voice a few rows down. Several postulants from another part of the hall began to openly disagree and argue over the question.
The conversation soon became more detailed, but as for Dr. Tada he seemed disappointed. Scouring over the class he eventually found the Student, who was observing what was happening with intrigue as much as disagreement on his face, trying to wrap together a coherent response which would no doubt would be kept to himself. Perhaps it was time to take the young man out of his shell.
"You there, with the blue hat, you seem to have a different idea than what the 16th row is saying. What do you think?"
The Student was surprised, and left to grasp a coherent reply. "Well, an- and forgive me if I am misunderstanding what is being said, but the question is concerned about one's being, not so much about reality itself, right?"
Dr. Tada remained silent.
Perception from others always made him feel sweaty.
"If so, then it doesn't matter so much how we perceive reality…but whether we are ready or not to study it. If we ask, 'what is reality?' then we're stuck on semantics which we all no doubt are going to disagree on immensely. Defining words and ideas aren't bad questions at all, in fact, they are essential and important ones, but reality isn't going to change either way, and we have to be conscious of our own selves, how we are effected by our own perspectives, in order to distinguish what we are all unanimously experiencing."
"An interesting observation you have made." Said Dr. Tada. "But now let's assume that I was asking about reality itself instead of gauging the room. What do you have to say?"
"That whatever we deem unnatural or extraordinary, the miraculous and strange, is actually part of a universal law. By analogy, this library cannot exist on its own, it needs to connect itself to everything if it wants to exist and grow. Nothing can survive without everything else around it, not even nothingness. How this relates to your question, I presume, is by responding to the latter, that there is/are a universal truth, and whether by different vocabulary, or unique access to knowledge, or even one's own being not requiring the steps of cognition and perception accustomed to material creatures, we see the same thing differently…"
Eventually, class ended and the Student left, hoping that no one followed him, preferring to get to work right away. Wandering around the Library he remained at awe seeing all that was, what has been, and what will ever be written, growing each day. He knew he could never read every book, let alone every book of a single subject, but following the reading recommendations that Dr. Tada provided, alongside whatever the front desk might offer, is a good first step to take. The wholesome adventure dedicated to finding these books and texts provided a good distraction for what was still on the Students mind.
The rest of the day was dedicated to just finding everything the Student would want to start with, but soon, he felt tired and wanted to go back home. Having made their way back to the small village where he was lodging in, there was a tiny pond with life teeming around it. He sat on the ground, and simply stared at the water, and saw how beautiful it was. There was nothing unique about the pond, or of the fauna and flora surrounding it, no magical properties, or even a bench, rather it was the water itself that drew the Student's mind. He was reminded of a million things, drawn into a melancholy he saw home: A sea of stars, the ocean floor, shades of deep blue, floating, swimming, sunlight, serenity, storms, moonlight, music, a life left behind. He can't go home, and it's time for bed.
The hotel room was generous in its price and room size, and the Student hoped to sleep peacefully after he finished reading a letter from home. A few weeks had gone by since he left, although within the Library only a day at most had passed. It arrived sometime earlier according to the receptionist, after news of his first class had made it's way back. Reading the letter made him feel isolated.
"To the next proud years…" It read, signed by everyone he knew.
There was a knock at the door.
He sighed, closing the letter. "…Come in."
A group of people, most notably sea denizens from the aquatic section of the Library and a few students, had stopped by.
"Firstly, we hope that we aren't interrupting you, if you'll allow us to talk for a bit."
"That's alright." Said the Student. "I'm in no real hurry."
One of the more humanoid members of the group came forward. "You were amazing today during the start of the lecture. It became the talk of the halls, with some of the denizens here noticing you were invested on books from the sea shelves. And, well, we would like to know more about you!"
"What?"
Someone else spoke up, this time one of the postulants from class. "And invite you over sometime for a meal and have some fun!" She paused. "Wait, can you even breathe underwater?"
"Actually, I live in the depths of the sea back home." Said the Student with slightly widened eyes. "This hotel was just the cheapest and closest to where I think I'd spend most of my time here."
"That's always the first mistake when in a hotel, you always end up wanting to go everywhere." Replied yet another denizen, who was more Sea Jelly than human. "Oh but you have got to check out the aquatic areas, they're amazing! Plus, we can show you so many great places around!"
The Student stared down at the floor. Why did the door appear to him this day, out of all other days? Was it a chance? A folly? Did the Library hear what he had to say about himself? Everything he had felt was something new, but it was also genuine. His brothers were never liars, but they never could connect with him as much as these people were. They knew what it felt to be isolated, here, of all places.
The Student sighed one more time as he raised his head with a smile.
"I think I would like that."