Catch you later, David, me old mucker.
Growing up in abject poverty had forcefully taught Crow a valuable lesson in education: education is valuable. Mechanics and engineering were easily learned through practical application and numbers scribbled in bits of charcoal. Other subjects were harder to teach. History more than a decade back was impossible, literature was of questionable content, and the only science that was universally taught was 'how to throw this rock further than the other guy'. The first thing Martha's three sons had done after settling into New Domino was go and get library cards – a thousand tearful lessons and threatening ladle strikes demanded no less.
"Hi there." While many other public venues would send alarms blaring across social media, libraries remained one of the few places anyone could remain anonymous while completely out in the open. "I'm interested in finding god. Can you tell me where the books are?" Lengthy lists were printed out and displayed every few feet to denote the entrants of topics into the library cataloguing system. What it failed to mention was where those categories were physically located and list the inventory of god-summoning instructions.
"Religious studies are on the third floor, just there near the staircase." Leaning back slightly, a manicured hand pointed to a blue ceiling near the back of the building. "Theological books maybe be located in the same section or directly above on the fourth floor. Occult are fifth floor, under the flickering light. We've had words with the custodian." The librarian sighed wearily. "They keep promising to replace the bulb but I doubt anything is going to get done until it finally gives up the ghost. So to speak." It said something to the mustard yellow sweater (besides fashion insanity) that there was barely a flicker of reaction to either the subject matter or the celebrity requesting it.
Pulling his hat slightly lower, Crow headed for the stairs. There was a certain reverence to libraries that seemed appropriate to his undertaking. While a couple of other patrons shifted slightly at the hushed sound of his footsteps on the thick carpet, nobody looked up from their pages in the timeless building. A thousand, thousand, thousand books on each floor, each floor passing by with simple footsteps and centuries of human experience passing him by as he did them. Of course, Crow wasn't there for the human experiences.
Reaching the third floor, he checked the lists at the ends of the bookcases and turned down between two rows of tomes. An elderly man was shuffling about the aisle ahead of him. Short, slightly pot-bellied, thinning dramatically on top and fooling nobody with that lank combover, and with the silver scraggly beard of someone who has enough wisdom to know he should shave and enough effort to do it once a month and screw the rest of convention. He gave a short start at the younger man's approach. "Hello."
"Hi." He seemed lost, unsure of himself. Crow had met a couple of elderly folks like that. Bashford, Crow's adoptive grandfather figure, was starting to get a smidgen forgetful in his old age as was Yanagi. "What are you here for?" A friendly demeanour was a good start with anyone but it went a lot further with those unsure of their place in life.
"I was on the way somewhere," The stout figure turned to look behind him with a befuddled expression on his face when he revolved back around. "Ended up here. Must have taken a wrong turn along the way."
"Going anywhere in particular?" Crow stopped walking as he drew level with the man. Very marginally below average height, like himself. Crow instantly liked him. "Or waiting for someone?" Either way, he was half tempted to escort the gentleman to the front desk and call somebody.
"Just having a bit of a stroll for now." There was still that faintly puzzled look beneath the thick eyebrows. Like he'd forgotten the last few digits of a phone number or the final ingredient in a recipe. "What about you?"
"Came to do some reading." For the first time, the man seemed to take note of his surroundings.
"Ah, libraries. Not really my sort of scene." Then he took further note and hurried to clarify his statement. "Very important, useful. Just not a big fan of reading. Between you and me," He leaned in consiprationally. "I usually sneak in for the free heating." A great guffaw of laughter split the silence as he smothered a chuckle.
"Best thing about it." Crow agreed. Books, heating, lights. Throw in a corner where he could do engineering and lower the prices at the cafe and it would be everything he'd dreamed of as a child. "Well, I'll be getting on." It appeared that the grizzled face wasn't turning senile just yet, merely taking advantage of a quiet corner to rest up for the next leg of his journey.
"Never did say what you came to read?" That statement turned into a question as the stranger followed him down the cul-de-sac of knowledge. The books were lit only by the lights in the main hall to save both them and the electricity prices. Lengthy tables broke up the space with reading lights strewn along the surface and a wall at the far end provided either an inescapable avenue or a reassuring blockade against interruptions.
"Came to see about finding god." A dark helmet loomed from his memory and Crow corrected his statement. "Any god. Got some questions about the afterlife." Finding a stretch of books he deemed relevant (starting with 'And Man Created God' by some lady called 'O'Grady' and ending with 'The God Delusion' by one 'Dawkins') Crow lifted entire sections from the shelves and onto the table. Crow's new friend gingerly touched the table, as if unsure of the nature of the item. Taking a seat on the far side, he carefully slumped into it with a practised exhalation.
"What's your interest in the afterlife?" Unless Yliaster had been getting busy, few people would be trying to save their close friends from the Netherworld. The more rational (meaning 'not supernatural detective') approach to looking for religion was typically a grief reflex.
"Trying to figure out if good people can escape the bad places." Pickup up one of the books, the stranger turned it over twice to check the back cover. Between that and his features, Crow pegged the guy as some type of European. "Yours?" Anybody else would have put the book down after a brief glance but he was reading each word with care.
"Trying to figure out where I'm headed off to." That was an odd response. Then again, his reason wasn't any better. "Care to help me look?" Crow looked over the stranger. At the very least, it would give him somewhere to start. It was that or pick at random and he didn't have a dice big enough with him.
"What religion?" Arranging the stacks of books to align the spines, he shoved half the piles towards his companion.
"Catholic? Maybe general Christianity." That whiskered face frowned slightly. "Never was much good at keeping it straight. Never gave it much thought before. Didn't really feel I had to."
"That's fine." Pulling a few tomes from his side, Crow watched the newcomer grab a few for himself. "My name's Crow." If they were going to be working together, names would be the first step.
"Oh. Right." A grating scratch sounded as he itched down the corner of his beard. "I'm David."
"Staying here long?" David didn't strike him as a New Domino native. The city was homogenised to an astounding degree but all the travellers passing through tended to have a certain difference to them. A bit confused, and a bit out of place. Both signs David was displaying in spades.
"Not sure yet." Rifling through the pages, he paused on a pencil drawing of a winged man flying to the heathens through a cluster of storm clouds. No, not flying – falling. Falling into the gripping talons of a damned horde. Crow's perspective had inverted the image and made it something it wasn't. "Hopefully not headed the same place as this guy. Gustaff Dory." Crow squinted to read the text for himself – Gustave Doré. David's pronunciation was as terrible as his hairline.
"Let me know if you find anything about the bad places and how to get someone out of there." Whilst it was possible that Pearson may have done a few morally dubious actions over the course of his life, Crow doubted that he had (and he strained his eyes to double-check that yes, that was what the upside-down description said) led a war against heaven. David's book might be slightly too pre-humanity to be of much use when it came to guidance on finding gods.
Looking down at his own book, Crow read through the synopsis and instantly put it to one side. He wasn't interested in the moral relativism of early man's inherent requirement to believe in a higher power, he was more in favour of a guidepost detailing the way forward. "Read it before?" Despite the wheezing nature of David's voice, the humour was as easy to read as the words on the pages in front of them both.
"It's arguing gods as social constructs." Picking up another book, he flicked through the blurb and tossed it into the same pile. "I'm trying to find practical examples."
Retrieving one of the discarded books, David thumbed through the contents and index pages. "Here," Opening a page in the middle of the book, he slid a heavy finger past words as he read along. "It says that Pissalm six-thousand-something says that god doesn't listen if you've got immoral behaviours and a thousand Romans had to be joyful in hope to hear him." Sliding the book back to the ginger, he waited for Crow to read the brief overview for himself.
"I think it's pronounced 'Psalms' and the number is," He glanced upwards to the uncomprehending pale eyes. Despite his uncanny instincts, David seemed to overlook a few of the minor details. "Never mind. Thanks for the find." Maybe a clinical examination wouldn't point him straight to the divine hierarchy but it could save him time unravelling the flowery language for himself. But – he noted the thickness of the books he was returning to the start point – it could just as easily take even more time.
"No problem." Turning back to his own book, David continued to casually scroll through the pages and only pause when he stumbled across large text or more pretty pictures. Despite his casual disregard for the content, his easygoing demeanour was putting Crow at ease.
"Travelling alone or are you here with friends?" Even though he was jotting notes down in the notebook he had brought with him, the investigative ginger was curious about his companion.
"Alone, for now." That confusion crossed his face again, like he couldn't remember something important. "More like an advance party. Scouting out ahead, like. Heading out first sort of thing."
"Family coming afterwards then?"
"Yeah. Couple of daughters, two grandsons." Calloused fingers idly flicked a page back and forth as he tried to balance it upright. "Fiancée as well. First time for everything." From the sound of it, he'd managed plenty of children but forgone the traditional route of getting married first.
"Good for you." After so long surrounded by bad news, Crow found the casual cheerfulness refreshing even if David did have the expression of a mind about to remember that he'd forgotten to put on underwear that morning. "I seem doomed to be perpetually single."
"Ah, don't worry about that." A silver ring of interwoven bands waved through the air as David brushed aside the doom and gloom. "Took eleven years of asking before she stopped laughing long enough to say 'yes'. How long have you been looking?" The famous face frowned sourly. Grandpa here had managed a decade-long relationship while he still had yet to break into the double-digits.
"Eight years." He admitted. "But this girl I like is French so that counts for double." He added, eager not to be pitied for his lack of companionship.
"Uh-huh." David sounded cheerfully doubtful. "I'm sure it'll all turn out okay. You know what they say about people from France." Narrowing eyes said that no, Crow hadn't heard what 'they' said about people from France. "They all speak French." Forget dad jokes, it was suddenly obvious how the grizzled face had become a grandfather.
"That was terrible." Crow enjoyed a bad joke as much as anyone (usually to bait Jack) but there was a point when humour hurt. "I'd damn you for that one alone." The previously jovial mood gradually turned serious.
"Do you really think that one joke could actually make that difference?" David seemed distractedly interested in the answer. Like the driver realising his keys are missing halfway down the motorway, he seemed to be filling in the shape of his missing memory.
"I like to think that people don't have to earn their place." A harsh childhood for no fault of his own? Crow had to believe that the universe wasn't as cruel or calculating as Goodwin had been.
Crow looked up at the heavy guffaw. "I hope you're right about that."
"Sorry to interrupt." Appearing from one side, a moss green sweater loomed with the same bespectacled expression from the front counter that marked him as another librarian. Were they colour-coded or did the profession simply have a strict dress code? "We're closing due to special circumstances and I'll have to ask you to leave." Speaking in a hushed whisper, the librarian was politely apologetic.
"Now?" Crow was bewildered by the sudden change of circumstances. "It's too early!" Fuck, this wasn't fair! He'd just started getting accustomed to the state of play.
"I'm sorry." Mr Green repeated. "You're not even meant to be here today. Come back tomorrow, we'll be open at our regular hours."
"That's okay." At least he'd made a good start on the material. "We'll put the books back."
"Sorry," Though he sounded far from it. "I have to help with the prep work. You should be able to figure out where the books go by the code on the labels."
"Sorry," Though he didn't mean it. "I meant me and," He turned to point out his temporary colleague. "David?" There was no sign of the rugged grandfather. All that remained in evidence of his being there was a gently falling page and the fading echo of his laugh.
"I'm sorry, sir. Was there someone else here?" With a wall at one end and the librarian coming from the other, there was no other path he could have taken. Unless... Crow glanced towards the ceiling. Unless David had found his answer after all. Now, wouldn't that be something?
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