The Library
The thoughts and dreams of untold millions were embodied in the Library. For a millennium, a select few of Earth’s descendants amassed its vast collection from a thousand worlds and guarded it here on Mars. Ursula contemplated this irony while she watched the mob ascend the pure white steps to the platform.
She was accustomed to this world’s ignorance. As a product of human-neohuman genetics, she’d been exposed to more than her fair share. Despite this, she’d risen through the ranks to become High Priestess of the Library- Temple of Universal Knowledge.
She studied hard. A love of the written word had been bred into her, along with a body more suited to the red planet’s harsh atmosphere. However her mind was her own, and the more she learned the more she opposed Temple doctrine. Denying the intellectually inferior access to the Library’s voluminous database could not be justified. The logic was flawed, but even the High Priestess was bound by Temple rules.
Over the past decades the common man’s discontent with the status quo grew, his agitation boiled over into random acts of violence, and their neohuman rulers had fled to safer places. Ursula alone stayed behind. She should have left, but she meant to reason with the crowd- though she feared the time for reason had passed.
The steps were steep and long to the pyramid’s apex. As the colonists closed the gap between the priestess and themselves, their helmets shone brightly, illuminated from within- a glowing parade advancing toward the monument’s summit. They came to tear down the stronghold that had forced them into intellectual poverty. Neohumans were the enemy, and nothing she could say would convince them otherwise.
She still tried.
Her words were ready. She spoke of the vast wealth of the library, the collected works of the great minds of the past. She spoke of the written word’s power to uplift men and women, inspire even the most hardened, and preserve the thoughts and achievements of their predecessors.
Her words fell on deaf ears, as she knew they would. How else could it be when they’d never been permitted to see their value? The high priest caste had subjugated them for too long.
The suited colonists began their rampage, tearing down the columns at the Temple summit. With a heavy heart, she pressed the translucent jewel on her ring, activated the transport beam, and faded into the ether.
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Okay, I’m looking for honest opinions here. Politeness is appreciated, but this felt a little wordy to me. I’ve edited this repeatedly, trimmed words, but the writing still doesn’t feel tight. I know I used some passive verbs; I was attempting a certain rhythm that I’m not sure I achieved.
The inspiration for this was from (I think) a Carl Sagan book I had read awhile ago. There was a story about the Library of Alexandria being destroyed and the death of one of the last librarians there. I tried to look it up, but I couldn’t find it. Lately, I’ve found myself thinking about it repeatedly; I couldn’t get it out of my head. So this story was born. Please tell me what you think, and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Thank you!
