Third Space

(This is the beginning of a Sci-Fi Fantasy, that I may or may not publish. Just another side of me)  
   
Don’t you hate opening a book and it starts with a question? Life does not happen that way, at least not in my life anymore.    
 
I wake up every morning to routine and I love it. Nothing to make my mind spiral out of control. It has not always been that way of course.  
 
In the beginning, there were so many questions that needed answers. Actions taken that I did not understand so again I needed answers.  The constant need to question and get these answers drove many people out of their minds.  
 
My parents had taken me to get analyzed once to see if something was amiss in my way of thinking. The psychologist stated that there was nothing wrong with me, but I would need to do something to quench my thirst for knowledge.  
 
I had skipped a few years in school which made me a social outcast. I was sent away to science camps and was isolated when I stumped the visiting astronaut about the existence of other beings, and it is scientifically impossible to be the only one in the universe.  
 
After that, my mother had had enough of it and sent me to live with a family member who was the complete opposite of me.  
 
Auntie Gertie was her name, and she did not question a thing in life. What is, is what it is. No questions needed. She is also reserved when speaking to people. Can you imagine living like that? I went there and my tirade of questions began, and I was met with silence.  
 
It was slowly driving me crazy. One day she took me to another relative who was exactly like her. Uncle Roscoe. He was a tall man even though he was older and when he spoke, it came out so deep I would jump from the shock.  
 
Uncle Roscoe had an extensive library and would allow me to read my fill and quench some of my curiosities.  
 
On my seventeenth birthday, my aunt accompanied me into the library and pulled out a book from her purse.  
 
“Cami you are seventeen now and I wanted you to understand a few things. Do not ask a single question until I am done and even then, you are allowed one question.”  
 
I looked at her in amazement. This is the first time she said so many words at once. I did not think she was physically capable of it.  
 
“Your uncle and I do not speak often so you must understand this is very important.”  
I nodded.  
 
“You were sent to me because of your nonstop need to question everything and though this is a good thing to do. For some reason, you were almost manic with the need. I believe everyone should speak and question things to find out answers to important questions. I also believe one should sit in silence and find out the information on their own. Speak when the words are necessary and not spewed out like an over-boiling pot.”  
 
My aunt sat there looking at me waiting to see if I would burst out with a question or two. I controlled myself and just listened.  
 
“Cami sometimes the answers to your questions will be given if you wait patiently and listen. This book is called “The Art of True Listening.” Within these pages, you will learn to hear and decipher what is being said to get to the answers you seek.  
 
We were like you once, your uncle and I.  It led us to live an isolated life. We do not want that for you. Over the years you have developed the skill to hold back the repetitive need to needle an answer from every living soul that comes near you. That is good.  
 
You will be going back to your parents in a year and I know you will thrive. I do not wish you to live like we do.  Now ask your one question and think before you squander it.”  
 
I sat there and a million and one questions came to mind, but I singled out one.  
 
“If I cannot control this, will I be sent away again?”  
 
My chest ached waiting to hear the answer that I needed to feel safe.  
 
My aunt looked at me and her eyes watered as if she wanted to cry but she held it back and answered, “ You ask a question about your future, and I have no answer for it. I do not know what is to come for you or me or even Uncle Roscoe. What I can say is one day you will find where you are supposed to be and they will welcome all of you.”  
 
She stood, handed me the book, and left me alone staring at it.    
 
That was over ten years now and I work ironically at a library. It grounds me in a way that nothing else has. If I have a question, I can look it up without bothering anyone.  
 
I glanced at my cell phone and realized I had only twenty minutes to get myself together if I wanted to make it to work.  
 
I live in a two-bedroom apartment with Hazel. Hazel works at a high-end department store, and she receives a commission that would make your mouth water. By the sound of her alarm, she was just getting up and I needed to beat her to the bathroom, or I will have to wait an hour for her to finish her routine.  
 
Today is employee recognition and we were asked to wear the outfit of librarians of the past. I went for the calf-length tweed skirt, white shirt with butterfly color, a matching blazer and to top it off decided to were my hair up and tie it with a ribbon.  
 
Looking at myself I laughed because this get-up was not me ever. I put on a little lip balm and left the bathroom.  
 
Hazel was up and she looked ruff. How does her hair defy gravity and stand up in points like that?”  
 
“Morning, Cami.”  
 
“Morning.”  
 
“Today is your office thing right?”  
 
“Yes.”  
 
“You look cute. Remember to wear flats. Anything other than flats would be a fashion crime.”  
Why would that be?  
 
“Ok, I’m on my way out. Bye.”  
 
“Cami have a good day. You never know you might snag a hot librarian.”  
 
Why would she even say that when she knows that it will never happen to me? I thought as put on the flats I had at the door. I grabbed my purse and coat and went to work.  
 
The library was not far from my place, so I saved on transportation. To be honest, at times I would splurge and take a cab to work. I don’t do anything exciting, and I saved a lot of my pay for those just in case of emergencies.  
 
I smiled at my hidden vise. I made it to work just in time. I see Ann Marie dressed in a fashion from the flapper era and Patrick went with the dark era of the plague when people did not visit the library much and it was lit by oil lamps.
 
I went to my area for the day. They assigned me to be the information clerk and when I had time, I would put away the books left of the tables.  
 
“Camilla, you look very pretty in your librarian era. Not everyone participated but it is fun to step out of your comfort zone and enjoy life.”  
 
That came from my boss Willa. She did not like her full name, so she insisted for everyone to call her Willa.  
 
She was an older woman that had a great deal of knowledge. She never came off as a know it all though. She dresses like a school librarian. With her fake glasses and hair put up in a bun that had pencils sticking out of it.  
 
She also had a ruler in her hand which I thought was very funny.  
 
“I see you get the humor. My school had a library and the woman who ran it looked just like this.  
 
The difference between us is that I smile.”  
 
The day went smoothly, and the staff was in a light mood. The hire-ups treated us to lunch, and we appreciated it.  
 
Looking at the time. I realized I had to start putting the books back on the shelves. I grabbed my cart and started picking up the discarded books when a young woman stopped me with a question.  
 
“Miss does the library know they carry books that have nothing in them?”  
What was she talking about?  
 
“Excuse me?”  
 
“Here this book has nothing in it. I just wanted to bring it to your attention.” She handed me the book then she went on her way.  
 
I looked at the book and it looked like it belonged to the fiction and fantasy area with the gold leaf lettering on it.  
 
I opened the book it said, “Welcome to Third Space Camilla Rhodes.”  
 
I slammed the book closed and dropped it into the cart. Someone was playing a joke on me and I will not be the butt of someone’s bad joke.  
 
I carried on picking up books, but my mind kept going back to that one.