Guardian Cats and the Lost Books of Alexandria

Chapter 22: “We are such stuff as dreams are made on…”

Marco’s head hurt from thinking. Mostly he was thinking about the mystery that was Cicero. How could he imagine that time traveling was just ‘a little trip’? Why did he waste his time teaching illiterate strays? Who was he? Sometimes he seemed so old, lost in research that had no real-world implications. Then other times, Marco felt like Cicero was leading him down a dangerous path—one that was very real.

Then there was the annoying side of the old library cat. Cicero insisted he attend the Dead Cats meetings. What a joke. Those cats were more interested in eating and fighting than reading. He could not imagine them spending any time in a library and didn’t see how they could be guardians of anything. Well, maybe Bait. Bait was different from the others.

But then, ever since returning from Alexandria, nothing seemed the same and after his disastrous first meeting, all he wanted was a good book in a quiet corner of the library.

But that was the problem. Here he was in his favorite place, and even though it sounded quiet, it didn’t feel quiet. He blamed Cicero.

Marco quit trying to read and went upstairs. The old cat was busy pouring through the stack of books in his chambers and Alaniah was playing around, doing swoops and dives and generally amusing herself. Marco went in, hoping to get an answer to his biggest ‘why’ question, but Cicero kept on reading.

Marco tried to be patient, but the more Cicero ignored him, the more important the question became.

Alaniah swooped and hovered in a holding pattern above Marco. “You ask good questions, fledgling-ing,” she said.

“How do you know my question?”

“I can hear the thoughts of creatures… when I choose. Mostly they are not so interesting as yours.” She looked towards Cicero. “Impossible to get his attention when he’s researching, isn’t it?” She waved several of her wings in dismissal. “You want to know why he didn’t warn them, don’t you?”

“He could have saved so many lives! He could have saved the library,” Marco protested. “Instead, he just let it happen!”

“This is difficult for you, and it is hard for me to see time from your perspective. Worldly creatures, such as you-ou,” she said, her voice rising with a touch of superiority, “observe time as past, present and future. But it is not so simple. Time is such a limiting dimension-ion… but unfortunately you earth creatures are stuck with it.”

Alaniah twirled her ethereal sparkliness upwards and sailed around the room as though even the thought of being tethered by three dimensions was something to be avoided at all costs.

Cicero finally looked up from his books.

“Ah, there he is,” she said. “Now you may explain. I cannot even fathom what it must be like for you, imprisoned in heavy corporeal bodies, plodding along in a time continuum-um.”

“Oh Alaniah, we are who we are,” said Cicero. “To quote a great man, ‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on.’” But at least we cats do not face the same limitations as humans. We are able to time travel and see into other dimensions much easier. Well, I have to qualify that. Cats used to have this ability, but even they are losing it, just as they are losing the ability to read.”

He looked at Marco directly. “But to your question, Marco… about why I didn’t save the library or warn Akeel.”

Cicero had been listening after all.

“All I can tell you is when we travel back in time, we are only observers. We cannot affect what has happened in the past. We cannot even be seen by most of the inhabitants.”

“What about Akeel? He saw us.”

“Akeel and Chuluum were different. They were given the gift to see what others could not.”

“But why couldn’t you give him some small hint? What’s the point of going back if you can’t change anything?”

“There is much speculation about time traveling. Humans are fascinated with this subject as well, thinking that they can change something that has already happened in the past to make life better in the present. However, as appealing as the idea is, it is not only not possible, it would be terribly dangerous.”

“Dangerous. Don’t you think the fire was dangerous?”

“As tragic as it was, changing things wouldn’t necessarily make it better.”

Marco did not see how things could have been worse.

“Careless use of time travel leads to rifts, a tear in the fabric of events. Even the slightest alteration would create an enormous wave that would sweep out over every event, before and after. When a pebble is tossed into a pond, ripples spread out into ever-widening circles. If a boulder were thrown in, a tidal wave of events would change everything around it, not just one small thing.

“No, it has not been granted to us mere mortals to have this kind of an effect on things that have already happened.”

Marco was not sure that Cicero had answered his question. For that matter, he couldn’t even remember the question. He had gotten lost at ‘a tear in the fabric’ and ‘tossing of pebbles into a pond.’

He sighed, thinking he would never understand the kinds of things Cicero talked about, but he couldn’t help asking questions. “Cicero, why are they called the ‘dead cats’?”