The people are more interesting when I look closer. They are reading not only old tomes and scrolls, which I was expecting, but new books and even electronic devices. To make the whole thing just a little bit creepy, there’s a dais where someone is repeating a single word in an endless monotone. I don’t know what the word is because it’s quite long and he never stops saying it, so the syllables are blending together and creating a mash of sound: a very small glossolalia, like a portable version. The light is dim and the reading lamps are a warm yellow. The whole place smells of stone and dust and paper. Megalos, reading glasses precariously resting on the end of his nose, looks up from a desk as we enter.