Lazarus Taxon’s Desk

It may seem strange nowadays, but there was a time when a beloved genre such as the Fable became a grave threat to the Library, to the whole written medium and possibly to reality itself.

The phenomenon known as the Aesopian Scourge began when the public demand for fables grew enough to influence all other literature in the Library: most astronomical studies turned into quarrels between astral bodies, encyclopedias felt obliged to add a moralizing maxim at the end of each entry and all the theological works of Thomas Aquinas reattributed themselves to La Fontaine. Sly foxes, prideful stags and foolish monkeys became a common sight between the shelves, causing incalculable infrastructural damage and engaging the patrons in unwarranted, often lethal, moral lessons. Not even the Librarians were safe from the Scourge, as its narrative forcefully included them as the ethical authority of reference.

It was a dark time, and it may have never ended if it was not for the noble sacrifice of a nameless patron. As this anonymous hero was being torn apart by judgmental lions in a reading room, he sorrowfully claimed that he had brought this fate upon himself with his excessive love of moral folk literature. Thus, he unknowingly delivered the aesop of the whole story, ending it and freeing the Library from the invasive fabulistic narratives.

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