thatsallthereis | On I go to wonder and to learning

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peter parker

On I go to wonder and to learning

There was a disturbing trend developing.

In the sleepless nights that made up Gansey's first week in Darrow, he'd stared at the title of a book. Questioning Darrow's History had been checked out and forgotten by the previous Gansey, the one that was him but wasn't. It was like he knew that he might be back and he wanted to remember that there was something to find. Every night, Gansey stared at the title, daring himself to look, hoping he could do so without getting obsessed. Fruitless, he thought.

The book was, as the title suggested, an intricate series of questions, looping in and over each other like a vine, doubling back like the ley line. People didn't talk about it, the book said. Investigating was ill-advised, the text said. And Gansey's fingers itched.

The Pig was there and she was as gorgeous as Gansey remembered. Its offensively orange exterior and too-hot leather interior were as they had been at home. The engine roared to life and sputtered out an environmentally ruinous form of protest. Or maybe it was excitement. Had the Pig been driven since Gansey's gone?

The library's smell was soothing. Gansey's entire life had been spent searching through walls as decorated as these, in places far away that had seemed strange until he'd been to the next one. Darrow took the cake. No amount of squatting toilets could compare to waking up in another dimension with all of your friends' making heavy allusions to your abandonment when you'd never left in the first place.

His anxiety climbed. He'd been through every floor of the place and nothing, nothing was called 'History.' There were sections, some of which touted American History, European History, Earth History, but not a thing on Darrow. As far as the stacks were concerned, Darrow had never existed outside of each individual moment of existence.

The books stacked high and Gansey felt small. The evidence didn't add up and Gansey felt determined. He sighed and looked around for someone to ask about this strange turn of events.

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Darrow is weird - I think that goes without saying. But of all the places I've been to so far, the library is one of the ones that I like the most. It's familiar, like a lot of the things in Darrow, and yeah, everyone who works there is just as weird as everyone out there, but there's information here. In theory, there's more information here than anyone out there can tell me - things I get, things I've learned about in school and on my own.

There's physics and electrophysiology and biochemistry. They've got sections with Bohr's work, Einstein's, Newton - I even saw Hawking, which I feel like would be something the weirdness here in Darrow disallows. But when I try and find anything about Darrow, or the weird phenomenon that is it, I get nothing.

No one is talking about why you can't get out of town, the weird loop that happens when you try to leave. There aren't any of the atmosphere above or around town, no one trying to send trackers through the field, or send electrical impulses. No one talking about all the weird shit that apparently happens in town, either. It's like it doesn't exist, or like no one wants to acknowledge it.

I mean, maybe I'm in the wrong section. Maybe there's something for, like, Darrow authors only. Original Darrow material. And I'd like to find it, because so far, I've just been feeling useless. It's time to get to the bottom of things.

And I got nothing.

I'm trying to figure if I want to even bother with scouring the history section now - maybe there's something by some.. ancient... Darrow... physicist?... that's been placed there on accident?

I turn a corner and there's a guy there. Dressed nicely. Nicer than most people who come to the library, so maybe he works here?

"Excuse me!" I whisper-shout. At this point, I'm kind of desperate either way. "Can you help me find something?"

At first, Gansey brushed right past the fellow. He was looking for a library page and that was not a job fit for a Gansey. He imagined he didn't look the part in his bright yellow shirt and polo shorts.

No, when Gansey glanced around, he saw that he was being addressed. He inspected the young fellow with a neutral, unreadable smile. Friendly, he thought. Diplomatic.

"I don't work here," he said, managing to hide the disdain completely from his voice. It was a damn miracle. "And I'm afraid I'd be lousy help: my own search has been fruitless." Upon further inspection, Gansey could see that the fellow meant no harm. He was high school aged -- something that Gansey freshly was not -- and full of energy. Easily he could have been an Aglionby student.

"Maybe we could help each other. What are you looking for?" The decision to help was made as the words came out of his mouth. It was a new city and everyone needed allies.

"O-oh! Sorry. Just thought with the, you know." I start to gesture, then think better of it.

"Never mind." Better to leave it at that. There's a beat of an awkward pause, and I find myself talking over the silence, as fast as I can since I know it's there. "Science!"

What?

"I'm, I'm looking for the science section. But by, uh. The people. Citizens of Darrow." Darrowians? Darrowites? I'm not sure how to ask any of this, and probably should have thought it through. Natives here seem to get kind of touchy when you ask a lot of questions.

"Haven't found much." Or any.

Gansey chose not to spend a lot of time on what the you know could have been referring to. Even if he'd wanted to, the kid was shouting the word "Science" suddenly and Gansey managed not to start too visibly.

"Interesting." What was interesting was that there were no coincidences, and it seemed they were in similar pursuit. A piece of Gansey reminded him that there was such a thing as sharing too much. That was a matter of safety.

"I was looking for more information on Darrow history." He'd already said how that had gone. They were looking for the same thing. They were coming up against the same obstacles. Gansey couldn't ignore something like that.

"Let me find someone that actually works here," Gansey said, with a confident, conspiratorial little turn of his lips that said everything was okay. The boy seemed like he needed some reassurance. Gansey knew that feeling, too. "I'm Gansey."

"Pete - Peter," I say, raising my hand in an awkward half wave. I practically feel like I should be shaking the guy's hand, but that feels weirder than things already feel. He gives me a smile, though, and I don't think he's totally freaked out by me, so hey. That's a start. And it sounds like we're after the same kind of stuff, so I figure that there can't be any real downside to working together - even if I am kind of embarrassed.

If Gansey - weird name, Gansey - is looking for Darrow history, then it's probably a safe bet that he's not from here either, since a "real" Darrow person would probably deny its existence. Or like, implode just from thinking about it. So that's promising. "Where you from, man?"

Had Gansey been this awkward a few years ago? He reckoned no, he hadn't, because he'd done too much time on his mother's campaign, glad-handing the majority leaders and projecting an image of the perfect son. Well-traveled, well-read, well-to-do. In his heart, though, he probably felt more like this kid: nervous and unable to handle being one step ahead of everyone else his age.

"Nice to meet you. Do you prefer Pete or Peter?" Maybe he'd stuttered? Gansey wasn't sure. He placed his hands neutrally in his pockets.

"Virginia. I've been here a little over a week." Overall, he thought he was handling it well. Then again, this wasn't too much weirder than anything else he'd experienced in his lifetime. "How about you?"

"Pete, Peter. I mean, you know, whatever." I shove my hands into my pockets too, feeling awkward, then stop when I realize that I probably look awkward, too. "I've been here for a month. It's supposed to get less weird, but being here is just bringing up more questions, you know? You're looking for stuff, too? And no luck?"

I realize I'm smiling and that this probably isn't an appropriate thing to be too thrilled about, so I wipe the grin off my face pretty quick. Even if it's looking like we're both having the same bad luck, it's reassuring to know that I'm not the only one curious about what's going on. Gansey and I are looking in different places, but at least some of the questions have to overlap.

A girl pushing a rack of books passes us as we go down one of the aisles and I point before we continue the conversation. "Hey, there we go. Excuse me!"

Interesting. They were both new to the city and both found themselves looking backward and no forward. Maybe his companion Pete was doing both. At the moment, Gansey could only look behind. If he looked far enough back, maybe he'd be able to see where time looped back around and he could develop any tiny clue what to do next.

Gansey smiled, too. He admired a person who asked the tough questions. All he could hope was that he had the constitution to withstand the answers.

Pete was gone as quickly as he came on, before Gansey could answer his question. That was okay: he knew the answer, anyway. Gansey smiled at the clerk and piped up, "we were wondering: is there a section for just Darrow authors?"

Gansey asks the question before I can, but it's probably just as well; I get the feeling he's waaaay better uh, received, than I am in most situations. The girl hugs the books that she was reshelving to her chest with one arm and points, to my surprise, in an actual direction. She says something - it's enthusiastic, I'm assuming because that's the kind of reaction Gansey normally gets - but I don't really hear it, more excited by the prospect of actually finding something than standing around.

I start walking in the direction she indicates with a muttered, rushed 'thank you.'

"Perfect, that's perfect! Gansey?" I say over my shoulder to see if he's following. It's not that I need him with me so much as I feel like being disappointed with company seems like it'll suck a lot less. Because really, I'm expecting this author selection to be minimal.

With a polite incline of his head and a thank you that was a little more Southern than was strictly honest, Gansey followed after Pete. Gansey smiled quietly to himself as he observed the boy's energy, bombastic and unbridled. Had Gansey ever been that excitable? Yes, he supposed, but it rarely came out like that, save for in short bursts: kicking his way to his feet when exiting the Pig or taking stairs two at a time, bounding. Mostly his pace rested at leisurely, like the world would might wait for him as he took his time.

"I wasn't hopeful," Gansey said lowly to only Peter as they neared their destination. He came to an abrupt halt.

There was a section for Darrow authors, that was true, but it was more like a single shelf, and more like a display for Todd Chad's tell-nothing novel, I am not Tuck Chingle. Gansey blinked.

"Who is Tuck Chingle?" This was the least pressing question, but it seemed the most manageable. Gansey walked to the left of the display. Fiction. Gansey craned his neck and walked back toward the right. Non-fiction. All were titles and subjects he recognized to be non-Darrow associated. He was scratching his head faintly when he returned to the display.

"I... think this is it."

"Yeah, I wasn't either," I mutter, trying to keep my voice quiet but probably ending up a bit louder just from excitement. "Maybe we'll actually be able to figure..."

Figure out who Tuck Chingle is?

"Oh come on." I walk up next to Gansey and case out the books, gesturing redundantly at the titles. "Seriously? The only original Darrow content is, is, is this? I guess I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up."

I sigh and pick up a copy of Ordinary People: The Story Behind Superpower Guy to flip through and can't help but deflate, just a bit. "So I guess we figure things out on our own."

Peter's dramatic disbelief was warranted. There were a few other titles about, but mostly drivel. Not a serious book among them. Gansey even checked a book entitled, A Serious Book. Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised that it wasn't.

"Could be worse," Gansey said, shrugging a shoulder. "I don't see any Ayn Rand." It was a more political statement than Gansey was wont to make, but he was separated from his parents. What he said mattered a little less. It was a dream, though of which ilk Gansey couldn't be certain.

Peter's proclamation warmed Gansey deep in the chest. Here was a person who was not daunted by vague answers or answers that only gave way to more questions. I guess we figure it out on our own was the only answer that would have been acceptable.

"'We?'" Gansey echoed, a corner of his mouth curling into a quiet smile, something like fascination.

I don't know who Ayn Rand is, but I keep that to myself and snort a little like I know what Gansey's talking about. Either way, he obviously feels the same way I do, even if he doesn't look it. Or, at least, I know he's in the same boat as me.

"Well, I mean, kinda, yeah, we?" Gansey's smile doesn't look like he's teasing or anything, so I give a faint, slightly uncertain one back. "We both have questions about this place and neither of us have answers."

I'm not entirely sure what we're supposed to do with that - if Mr. Stark and his people can't find anything, I'm not so sure that I will either, even with Gansey's help - but it's not like giving up is an option either.

Gansey's smile overtook his face. He clasped a hand on Peter's shoulder. "I suppose you're right." A fair assessment from a smart kid who looked skyward instead of backward. Gansey found himself wondering about the boy: where he came from and what had led him to this sort of resilience. His youth was no factor: Gansey had known a litany of bright young folks in his time, some at Aglionby and some he studied with in any number of libraries and museums around the world. Each of them had something in common, something extraordinary that happened in their (more) formative years that kept their gaze steady. What was his?

Gansey's phone dinged politely from his pocket and he excused himself before he checked it. He'd already been out longer than he anticipated. He'd planned to meet Henry and the time was nearly upon them. He felt for the keys in his pocket and trained his eyes on Peter.

"I'm sorry, I have somewhere to be." He handed his cell over to Peter. "Would you give me your number and we can try again later? Maybe there's another library." There wasn't, he didn't think, but it would be nice to have something to focus on.

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On I go to wonder and to learning

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