Prologue
You intend to memorize this world. Beginning with the vaguely respectable trash literature displayed in front, you will work your way through to the most rarified academic journals languishing in the back. After a few months the mousy little thing behind the circulation desk––a sixty-year-old version of a woman you knew before––asks why you spend so much time in the library. You tell her, honestly. When she replies that such a thing is impossible, you counter that, on the contrary, you once knew a woman who read a library, rewrote it for you, and didn't change a single word. You tell her that this woman gave you what you needed, though she didn't understand it. As you stare at the librarian, you wonder what is different about her and what is not. She avoids you after this and never speaks to you again.
Disclaimer:
I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. I guess this is where I make some funny comment to the effect that if I did own it I'd be rich, etc., etc., but unfortunately I'm not feeling particularly clever today. Sorry :(