When Greta punched in the combination at a big metal door, much like the one that she had seen in IT, but without windows, Marina couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed in what she saw inside. She wasn’t quite sure what she expected but rows of shelves with neatly labeled boxes filling them wasn’t quite the picture she had made for herself. Maybe dramatically lit rows of books or enigmatic and mysterious locked boxes at the very least. This looked more like the Small Parts counter down at Supply.
Greta must have seen her disappointment because she said, “Boxes can hold many wondrous things, Marina.” She smiled her small smile at Marina then, the one that bowed her lips the smallest bit but lit up her expression with meaning.
Marina stepped into the row of shelves just in front of her and looked at Greta, who nodded toward a box just above her head with that still, small smile. Marina carefully extracted the box and placed it on a rolling cart that was left conveniently nearby. At another nod from Greta, she lifted the lid and saw that it was filled with objects carefully wrapped in cloth or clean paper.
Greta reached in and extracted one seemingly at random then unwrapped it for Marina. Inside, a beautiful symbol almost just like the one she had found rested on a round disk of metal. The strange animal with the claws outstretched over the shield that held stars at the top and stripes at the bottom was rendered in metal and colors. To that symbol was also added a round background with star shapes circling the round portion.
Greta placed it gently in Marina’s cupped palm and she examined it. On the back were knobby bits and Greta reached over and twisted one of them off, revealing a pointed post. Marina looked up, her brow creased in question and Greta took it back, twisted off the remaining knobs and then attached the object to Marina’s coveralls near the neck opening. She affixed one of the knobs and Marina felt the prick of the remaining sharp points as she laid her hand over it, her confusion deepening and clearing at the same time.
She said, “This is like their version of badges, isn’t it.”
Greta nodded but made no reply. She merely watched Marina and she could sense the woman was waiting to see what she would ask or say next.
“They used them to identify something in themselves, but what was it that they were identifying? What could it possibly identify to have this animal on a badge?”
Greta’s smiled widened a little and she said, “And now you’re asking the same questions that Historians have been trying to answer for generations.”
She gave a wry laugh and reached out to take off the heavy metal badge from Marina’s coverall, leaving her with a feeling of loss she couldn’t truly explain. She felt as if there had been something connecting her, for just those few seconds, with all those that came before her. It was more complex than that but she couldn’t even explain it to herself. She merely felt the loss and had to resist the urge to reach out and snatch the badge back from Greta.
When it was nestled in with the objects inside the box Greta rested her hand, with gentleness and reverence, on the top of the massed paper and cloth before meeting Marina’s eyes and saying, “I know what you must be feeling. This box is filled with such things.” She waved her hand along the shelves and to all those beyond this row, shelves that filled this immense series of rooms, and continued, “This whole place is filled with such curious things that offer glimpses but no certainties. We might never know what it all means.”
Marina saw just a hint of sadness in Greta’s eyes and realized that she wasn’t strict about speculation because she wanted to be. She was as curious and awed by all this as anyone would be. Her strictness must be because it really was a necessity. This much uncertainty would wreak havoc on a mind not dedicated to controlling it. She realized she was being given a rare and surpassingly valuable gift just by being here and she felt the immensity of her good fortune.
When that overwhelming feeling passed, she turned back to the Historian and asked, “Is all of this like that? Objects, I mean?”
Greta motioned for Marina to follow and she walked down the row as she answered, “No, not at all. Most of it isn’t like that, in fact. A lot of it consists of drawings of objects or the results of testing or other things that relate, in one way or another, to the study of our past. Most of what’s in this room is really current history though. It’s pretty much all we can do to keep up with adding new things. There’s just no time to research the old stuff.”
She stopped and then began scanning the boxes along the rows where they stood as if searching for something specific. She finally let out a little ‘ah’ of discovery, took down a box that was almost too high up to reach and placed it on the cart she had rolled after them. She opened it up, all efficiency now, and Marina peeked inside as a smell like old fire wafted up. Inside was a corner of a book, pages spread wide by something. Greta plucked a pair of cotton gloves from her pocket and slipped them on before she gently lifted out the book to put it gently on the cart.
She stepped back, exhaling as if she had done something of great effort, and motioned Marina forward for a better look. She said, “This is the remains of a book from below IT.” She ran a finger along the ragged burned edge of the cover, close to it but not quite touching it, before continuing, “As you can see it is in a fragile condition and we have only this portion left. But we were still able to find out a lot of from just this bit.”
Marina looked at the wedge of book, a roughly burnt triangle several inches in length along the side and along the top. The pages were fanned out with slips of white paper stuck between the pages, making the book even thicker than it had been originally, and impossible to close. She bent down to try to peer in at the pages but Greta touched her shoulder to halt her progress when she got too close.
“Not so close. We try not to breathe directly on the pages. The moisture in our breath can damage the pages.”
Marina nodded, understanding that from her own work and remembering her own carefully directed sighs or sneezes away from the delicate components. She said, “What’s in it?”
Greta shook out her hands like she was about to undertake a heavy burden, then tightened the gloves on her hands before reaching out and gently pressing open the pages very slightly. The creak the binding made from even that light touch was alarming. Greta looked as if she knew exactly how to handle the artifact so Marina just bit her lip and watched her every move. She landed on one of the slips of paper between some of the pages and lifted it out. With her gloved finger to hold the page open, she said, “Go ahead and look, just don’t breathe on it.”
Marina bent her head and peered at the tiny and perfect writing. Only on some blueprints and instructions and labels had she seen such perfectly formed script in her life. All copies of books were done by hand, as was anything newly developed. This was printed, as in the old printing of the past that no one could do anymore. And though the paper was yellowed even at its most undamaged inner edge and a brown so deep it was almost black near the burnt edges, it was clear that this paper had once been something special. It had a gloss to it and looked somehow different. She adjusted her view so she could read the words and for a moment, they were silent. When she realized what she was reading she drew back in shock and looked at Greta, who nodded and told her to keep reading.
It was a partial description of something called an ocean. It was missing most of it, but the partial lines she read were wonders to her and there was nothing that she could marry the words with in her own mind. She saw the words, ‘covers more than 70% of the Earth’s surface’ and shook her head, not understanding how that could be. There was no water outside and surely if there was that much she would see it. The rest was too fragmentary to make sense of. It was just words to Marina and she straightened with a look of confusion on her face. Greta carefully placed the paper back inside the book and let it close before she spoke.