Building Alexandria

The librarian’s joyful smile ignited excitement among her adolescent staff. “We’ve arrived,” she said pulling on the reigns to halt the mules. Boasting and babbling about who would find the most books this time, they scrambled over the sides and out the back of the wooden freight wagon. “Be careful,” she shouted. It was dangerous to scavenge in these deteriorating small town library buildings. They knew it, she reassured herself, but they acted as if it were a contest. It sort of was.

The nuclear bombs had destroyed population centers. That left small towns and their surviving library and school books as the sole reservoir of knowledge. It was important to collect what remained before it rotted away. She’d dedicated years to creating a new center of enlightenment. Their thriving community refused to use her suggested name. She sighed. New Fargo was okay, but New Alexandria would have represented what they were growing into.

“Mrs. Ericson, what is your favorite book?” called a flaxen haired young woman from a second floor broken window.

“Did you find Don Quixote?” the librarian asked with delight.

“No. It’s even better. The whole set is legible.”

“Oh, my gosh - an encyclopedia?”

“Yes,” the girl said.

“Get some of the others to help you bring the set down here.”

Soon the record of a world that no longer existed filled a large Rubbermaid tub in the freight wagon. The librarian knelt beside it. Her fingertips brushed across the set’s covers. The texture was exquisite. Not many of their hunting trips ended so well. They would be returning here soon. Maybe next time they’d find Don Quixote.

Word count: 272