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A Dire Warning For A Troubled Time
5 years ago
I just woke from a nightmare.
It was strange and terrifying. I feel an almost compulsion to come back and give a warning. Or maybe it was a terrible vision of what may come to those that care not to learn from other’s mistakes.
You may think of me as some wild haired hermit to have wandered back after so long away, but if you wish to avoid a sad fate please listen;
Somehow, someone thought it would be a good idea to institute a third shift at the library. As you may or may not know, third shift is generally Fridays Saturdays and Sundays. The days are twelve hours long. Since most avoid working weekends and such long hours there’s little supervision over the course of this shift. And with little supervision and so much extra time odd ideas sometimes come to fruition without due reflection.
As it would happen, one weekend Third Shift thought it would be a clever prank to reorganize the shelves into a maze. At first, at least for the first few days on seeing what had transpired everyone was thrilled and amazed at the extraordinary diversion. Soon though the novelty wore off. For most, it was considered someone else’s job to put everything back in place.
A few brave souls did try. The trouble was, those little wheeled carts had gotten lost, or maybe everyone had forgotten how to use the Dewey Decimal System.
Those that tried to put everything back in place focused on just their own areas of interest. It was then that the true nature of the catastrophe that was upon them came to be realized. Well, no, that’s not right. Actually no one realized it. That was my fate as an observer. It was after all my nightmare. Those first efforts had only made things worse.
Subject matter was now fragmented, displaced and scattered. Mixed with disparate interests the confusing maze became a true labyrinth. A single shelf with with a fragment of History blocked in by Theology, Games and Puzzles and Travel. Another shelf with a bit of Geography surrounded with some Young Adult titles, Self Help books and Periodicals. Many more examples were to be found. An entire library, the size of a warehouse shuffled and reorganized like a deck of cards in a Casino waiting to confuse and disorient a gambler. No one could find everything they needed.
In time, and ineffectual individual effort of those with the interest, small sections were made to resemble some form of order, at least in the eyes of those that tried. The trouble was, bringing everything back to the way it was before required direction that nobody bothered to listen to, if there was even anyone there to give the proper advice. Those few that tried didn’t even know the fragmented nature of their own interest that lay before them. The remains were satisfying to them for they knew only what they had found, and settled for that.
It came to be that only small almost hidden sections became frequented by those searching for the information they wanted. For many, it became a simple search for validation of their own ideas, for there was so little left accessible even few came to search. And this was the final irony.
In their quest to get to what they wanted they had pushed other shelves together. Careless of the interests of others they perhaps didn’t realize, or maybe didn’t care that those shelves were left facing each other. Other areas, whole sections were blocked off by those trying to set right what they thought to be the whole of their interest. But that left many other areas isolated leaving so many other books unobtainable. This forgotten lore soon accounted for most of the space in the library.
Groups now tended to congregate in only a few sections. These individuals and even roving bands no longer bothered even communicating with one another. Even the lighting fell into disrepair on those lost and forgotten sections. It seemed almost as if the frequented sections were lit only by small feeble lights, or perhaps campfires lit by one tribe or another. It was a sad and disheartening thing to see.
It was then that I woke up.
It was then that I found that someone had put an empty milk carton back in the fridge.
As I live by myself I can only place blame on myself.
I implore anyone reading this warning, never put empty cartons back in the fridge.
I’m now going back to sleep, still thirsty.
It was strange and terrifying. I feel an almost compulsion to come back and give a warning. Or maybe it was a terrible vision of what may come to those that care not to learn from other’s mistakes.
You may think of me as some wild haired hermit to have wandered back after so long away, but if you wish to avoid a sad fate please listen;
Somehow, someone thought it would be a good idea to institute a third shift at the library. As you may or may not know, third shift is generally Fridays Saturdays and Sundays. The days are twelve hours long. Since most avoid working weekends and such long hours there’s little supervision over the course of this shift. And with little supervision and so much extra time odd ideas sometimes come to fruition without due reflection.
As it would happen, one weekend Third Shift thought it would be a clever prank to reorganize the shelves into a maze. At first, at least for the first few days on seeing what had transpired everyone was thrilled and amazed at the extraordinary diversion. Soon though the novelty wore off. For most, it was considered someone else’s job to put everything back in place.
A few brave souls did try. The trouble was, those little wheeled carts had gotten lost, or maybe everyone had forgotten how to use the Dewey Decimal System.
Those that tried to put everything back in place focused on just their own areas of interest. It was then that the true nature of the catastrophe that was upon them came to be realized. Well, no, that’s not right. Actually no one realized it. That was my fate as an observer. It was after all my nightmare. Those first efforts had only made things worse.
Subject matter was now fragmented, displaced and scattered. Mixed with disparate interests the confusing maze became a true labyrinth. A single shelf with with a fragment of History blocked in by Theology, Games and Puzzles and Travel. Another shelf with a bit of Geography surrounded with some Young Adult titles, Self Help books and Periodicals. Many more examples were to be found. An entire library, the size of a warehouse shuffled and reorganized like a deck of cards in a Casino waiting to confuse and disorient a gambler. No one could find everything they needed.
In time, and ineffectual individual effort of those with the interest, small sections were made to resemble some form of order, at least in the eyes of those that tried. The trouble was, bringing everything back to the way it was before required direction that nobody bothered to listen to, if there was even anyone there to give the proper advice. Those few that tried didn’t even know the fragmented nature of their own interest that lay before them. The remains were satisfying to them for they knew only what they had found, and settled for that.
It came to be that only small almost hidden sections became frequented by those searching for the information they wanted. For many, it became a simple search for validation of their own ideas, for there was so little left accessible even few came to search. And this was the final irony.
In their quest to get to what they wanted they had pushed other shelves together. Careless of the interests of others they perhaps didn’t realize, or maybe didn’t care that those shelves were left facing each other. Other areas, whole sections were blocked off by those trying to set right what they thought to be the whole of their interest. But that left many other areas isolated leaving so many other books unobtainable. This forgotten lore soon accounted for most of the space in the library.
Groups now tended to congregate in only a few sections. These individuals and even roving bands no longer bothered even communicating with one another. Even the lighting fell into disrepair on those lost and forgotten sections. It seemed almost as if the frequented sections were lit only by small feeble lights, or perhaps campfires lit by one tribe or another. It was a sad and disheartening thing to see.
It was then that I woke up.
It was then that I found that someone had put an empty milk carton back in the fridge.
As I live by myself I can only place blame on myself.
I implore anyone reading this warning, never put empty cartons back in the fridge.
I’m now going back to sleep, still thirsty.
you just described what's going on in our country with people trying to erase history... I wonder if those people left an empty carton in their refrigerator? ...
V.