Стража! Стража!
"ButI’dbegratefulifyou’dwarnmefirstanothertime,allright?"
"Certainly,sir."
"Inwriting,Ithink."
TheLibrarianswungon.Itwasslowprogress,becausetherewerethingshewasn’tkeenonmeeting.Creaturesevolvetofilleverynicheintheenvironment,andsomeofthoseinthedustyimmensityofL-spacewerebestavoided.Theyweremuchmoreunusualthanordinaryunusualcreatures.
Usuallyhecouldforewarnhimselfbykeepingacarefuleyeonthekickstoolcrabsthatgrazedharmlesslyonthedust.Whentheywerespooked,itwastimetohide.Severaltimeshehadtoflattenhimselfagainsttheshelvesasathesaurusthunderedby.HewaitedpatientlyasaherdofCritterscrawledpast,grazingonthecontentsofthechoicerbooksandleavingbehindthempilesofsmallslimvolumesofliterarycriticism.Andtherewereotherthings,thingswhichhehurriedawayfromandtriednottolookhardat...
Andyouhadtoavoidclichesatallcosts.
Hefinishedthelastofhispeanutsatopastepladder,whichwasbrowsingmindlesslyoffthehighshelves.
Theterritorydefinitelyhadafamiliarfeel,oratleasthegotthefeelingthatitwouldeventuallybefamiliar.TimehadadifferentmeaninginL-space.
Therewereshelveswhoseoutlinehefeltheknew.Thebooktitles,whilestillunreadable,heldatantalisinghintoflegibility.Eventhemustyairhadasmellhethoughtherecognised.
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