It was the first time I had ever seen the library with my own two eyes. A few weeks back, I had read that the library stretched over ten thousand miles, with the tallest tower being that of four thousand three hundred twenty seven feet high. Many would question if such eccentric architecture was necessary, but I myself never complained. I had done my homework before hand of course. I wanted to know what to look for when I came here, where to go, what sights there were to see.
I stepped outside from one of the library’s many silver domes, a kind of information/registration point, in which all visitors were transported to via the warp link. Afterwards, I made my way down a long flight of stairs; white marble with a similar delicate looking marble floor at its base. A colossal statue of Celestia stood at the base of the stairs, with plumes of green fire shooting upwards either side of her. I reached the base of the stairs, with many more flights of stairs yet to come. Of course, the designers had no intention of keeping earth ponies and unicorns in mind. However, why would they? I myself was as physically fit and able as anypony could be, and in this age, there were very few I knew who were paralysed or required assistance to walk. I mean, very few! Besides, they could always just use the warp gate.
Upon making my way deeper into the complex I found myself in an almost bewildered state. I leant over the steel bannister, staring blankly into the dark abyss below me. About a mile in front of me, stood towers of gold, with long spiralling bridges connecting each and every tower for miles. I ceased my transfixion and turned around, diverting my gaze to the bookshelf behind me. I had literally no idea what section I was in or where I was. I had lost track somewhere past the Magical insects of the Everfree and their discoverers section. A particular book caught my eye: a faded lime green spine, with a gold strip across the top. There was no title, and no author. The absence of an author name did not strike me as odd, but what did however strike me as odd, was the absence of a title entirely. I slowly edged myself forward. With the library being as big as it was, it was not at all surprising that were not many other ponies around. The millions of visitors here would be in all sorts of various sections, scattered for miles around. I scanned the area around me; there was nopony in sight.
My inner conscience expressed its concern to me that I should not read it, primarily because I had a schedule to maintain. Soon enough however, I found my hoof extending itself, and slowly sliding the book off of its shelf. I took the book and placed it gently in the palm of my hoof. It was old to be sure, but had notably been taken care of for all these years. Just like its spine, its front cover lacked wording entirely. I scanned the area yet again, and noticed a sleek white table and two chairs, just behind me close to the railings. I took my book and sat down at the table. The sun behind me began to erupt in an orange fury, igniting the clouds in a flurry of purples and reds. It was getting late, but I knew I had time. I slid my hoof between the front cover and the first page, and began flicking through slowly. All the pages were blank, until finally I ceased my flicking after I caught sight of a lonely looking section; the only section of which, to have wording in. I opened the book onto that section and leant my head down, allowing my biometric implants to focus on the wording efficiently.
‘If you are reading this, then I am sure to be dead by now. There are very few who know of these secrets I am about to divulge, so please read at your own risk.’
I scanned the area once again; just to make absolutely sure nopony was watching me.
‘Before the Great War, there was a time in which writers were free to exercise creativity any way they saw fit. The author was prized on his creative capabilities, and respected by those who saw his originality as a gateway for future writers to flourish from his ideas, and create brilliance of their own. But it was precisely that, which led to the extinction of the author. History books will have probably told you that there has never been any such thing as an author. You will probably know the word author as a creator of something, but it used to be so much more than that. The author was the architect; the reason ponies bought his book. Not because of the title of said book, but because the authors name stood out above all other things. However, here is what happened:
After the deaths of Celestia and Luna, the Realists took over. That part I am sure you will be well aware of. What so many are not aware of however, are the secrets that died along with them. Of course most books in this age are digital, but why has nopony ever questioned why almost no hardback books date back to pre Celestia times? The answer is simple: The Realists went to great lengths to destroy every instance of the author ever existing. His name became meaningless, and only his content became relevant. It was the Realist’s belief that to have the authors name on a book was a sin, that no author could ever exercise originality, as his ideas had been mimicked from other ideas before him, and those ideas from ideas before those, and so on. And thus, the extinction of the author came to fruition, and now no book in the world has had its author printed on the cover for over a hundred millennia.
I write this, in the hope that one-day somepony will heed my truths, and expose the lies of the Realists. Now go!’
The writing seemed to just abruptly stop, almost as though somepony caught him in the act. There were ink splodges and strange markings at the base of the page, which needless to say gave me goose bumps. I knew deep down that this was clearly just a prank. The mere idea that our history books had been lying to me all these years was astounding. There was however that niggling feeling In the back of my skull. The big question of what if remained in my mind no matter how hard I tried to apply rational thought. I promptly closed the book and slotted it into my satchel, before making a break for the archway to my right, marked EXIT. Just before I could make my way through, a robotic Realist pony stepped out in front of me, staring me dead in the eye and pointing a hoof in my direction.
