*
A hospital?
That was Rintaro’s first thought.
They’d emerged from the dazzling light into a wide-open space filled with men and women in white coats, rushing about to and fro. But as the dazzle of the light faded away and the space came properly into view, its bizarreness became clearer.
Ahead of them was a giant stone walkway. The width was about that of two school classrooms, and the depth seemed to go on forever. To either side, a line of mighty, elegant pillars, evenly spaced, supported a grand arched roof. If you took in only these pillars, the view resembled an ancient Greek temple, but there was something very odd about the people coming and going. They appeared from between the pillars on one side, then disappeared between the ones on the opposite side. There were both men and women of a wide range of ages, but each was dressed in white and carried a pile of books in their hands. Their movements were identical.
On the wall between each pillar, there were shelves of books reaching way up to the high vaulted ceiling. At regular intervals at the foot of the walls that made up this giant library, there was a large desk. Teams of workers were busily searching for books on the shelves and piling them up on the desks. Next, they would pick up different books from the desk and return them to the shelves. If you looked carefully, you could see that there was a series of narrow pathways cut into the wall, and staircases leading up and down. The people would emerge from these pathways, stop in front of one of the desks to drop off and pick up books, cross over the giant walkway, and disappear once more into one of the passageways on the other side of the room.
It was a hectic, dizzying scene—people scurrying around clutching piles of books, others carefully piling books onto desks, and yet others working at the top of a tall ladder.
“Look at this . . . this place is amazing!”
Sayo was always frank about her feelings. As she stared wide-eyed around the space, a woman hurried right by her. No one paid the least attention to the two teens and a cat. It was as if they hadn’t even noticed them, and yet, if a collision was imminent, they would dodge and pass around the three intruders. So it wasn’t that they couldn’t see . . . But the most curious thing of all was that there were so many of these people running around the place, and yet not a single word of conversation to be heard. It was like watching a badly made silent movie.
“So somewhere in here there’s a person cutting up books?” asked Rintaro.
“That’s what I heard.”
“What are we going to do?”
The cat shrugged.
“Look for him?”
The cat quickly approached the nearest of the men and called out to him.
“Excuse me. I’d like to ask you something.”
The man stopped in his tracks, a tall pile of books in his arms. He looked down at the tabby cat with obvious irritation. He was middle-aged, well-built, but his complexion was oddly pale.
“What is it? I’m busy!”
“What the hell is this place?” asked the cat.
The cat’s tone was scornful, but the man’s reply was matter-of-fact.
“This is the Institute of Reading Research. We’re the world’s largest research facility dedicated to all aspects of reading.”
“Reading research?” Sayo asked.
The man ignored her furrowed brow.
“Then I’d like to meet the person in charge,” the cat said.
“Person in charge?”
“Right. The head of this facility. The director. Or if you’re calling it a ‘research institute,’ maybe I should call them the doctor or professor?”