Endless shelves stretch up to a crystalline ceiling, behind which hangs the backdrop of a grey sky. Grey robed figures pass by Gerry without looking at him, and from time to time, they will dissolve into a flurry of paper and text, taking their place between their fellow books. Their movements are deliberate, their eyes are pale and certain. Everything feels strangely sharp and precise, even the echoes reverberating off of the smooth stone floor.