StoryJumpers Part 2: The Fog

 Part 2: The Fog

Click here for part one

The turning home was, as ever, a turn towards mixed emotions; echoes of nostalgia, the sense of time moving on, and - more surprisingly - a rush of deep love for the landscape of their childhood. They (for the purposes of this story, we’ll call them Finn) - rose early the next morning and decided to confront the flooded landscape head on.  It was misty; the damp rising from the sodden ground so that everything felt opaque and washed out. Water pooled in deep puddles the colour of dirty washing-up water and the low February sun looked as if it didn’t had the energy to break through the fog today. Finn felt that this was completely relatable.

They took the footpath across the floodplain, dodging the deep scars left by hooves and boots, and eventually connected with the iron track that led to a patch of woodland. Finn seemed fairly sure that, on the other side of trees, lay a visitor’s centre and cafe, and after spending an hour trudging through heavy soil they hoped for coffee. Sure enough, the low building soon appeared in sight, although from a distance it appeared a bit more run down than they remembered. Flood water had left a tide mark on the brickwork and there were deep puddles around the entrance. As Finn approached,however, they could see that the lights were on and a hand-drawn sign had been posted in the window. It was also anything but quiet - even from 100 metres away they could hear the rumble of conversation and laughter.  On closer inspection, the sign read Veritas Liberabit Vos. Their Latin wasn’t great, but a few moments (and a quick Google) revealed the phrase ‘The truth will set you free.’ Intrigued, at this point the only thing to do was to go inside.

At the front of the room was a wide reception-style desk; probably left over from the visitor centre days. On top was a brass bell and a sign which read ‘Librarian.’ Behind it on a high stool was an older woman who was clearly embracing the role; she’d put together the classic librarian assemblage, from the pinze nez and bun, to the cardigan and sensible shoes. It wasn’t uncommon for people in those days to dress in costumes which reflected the roles of bygone days (roles known back then as ‘jobs’) - from those times when labour was a commodity, and someone else decided what you were worth.  Just yesterday Finn had seen three men dressed in suits on the train, talking on old-style mobile phones and pretending they were going to an office. On the tables to the librarian’s right were an array of objects; ornaments, maps, plants, photographs, and what looked like a giant mushroom; although strangely, not a single book. On the floor was also a small white dog, which eyed Finn with some suspicion. The laughter they had heard came from a row of people sat behind desks at the far end of the building; each had a sign in front of them too, stating their name and age.

‘Have you come to borrow, or lend?’ the librarian asked as Finn approached the desk. Finn paused, unsure of the correct response.

‘I’m not sure to be honest. Is this a library now?’

The librarian laughed and waved her arm vaguely in the direction of the objects and people at the end of the room. 

‘You could call it that. Borrowing is fine, but we encourage people to lend themselves too, at some point.’

Finn paused and looked around. Their guess at this point was that the whole set-up was some kind of mutual aid facility, or perhaps one of those human libraries where you learn about other people to work on your mental health. But the objects seemed to have no obvious function, and there was no indication of who the people were or why they were there.

‘I’ll borrow this time please… see what it’s all about. How does it actually work?’

Finn detected a slight eye roll in the librarian’s expression.

‘People usually borrow for three weeks…I’d recommend taking a person and an object out. Gives you lots to go at. Have a browse if you like? There’s no rush.’

Finn turned and contemplated the objects, the dog, and the people. They still hadn’t grasped what exactly was happening, but nevertheless felt intrigued. For the first time in a long time, Finn felt a sense of expectation and clarity, like a fog was lifting. There was a sudden hush in the room as the chatter died down and all eyes turned in their direction. Finn regarded the objects once more and took a step towards the table. The moment felt significant… but what to choose?