Blasphemy
by James C. Clar © 2009
If an eternal voyager were to traverse it in any direction, he would find, after many centuries, that the same volumes were repeated in the same disorder (which, repeated, would constitute an order: Order itself). My solitude rejoices in this elegant hope.
Jorge Luis Borges
Mahfouz was not unaware of the fact that he was being greatly honored. His gratitude or, more precisely, his pride, was tempered by the awareness that his appointment as chief librarian entailed a lifetime of dire, not to mention quite probably futile, labor.
The Library was, as everyone knew, a vast edifice containing untold volumes room upon room, floor upon floor of volumes in all of the known languages and covering every conceivable subject matter and representing every possible genre. There were those who suggested perhaps facetiously that the Library was infinite in space . Others stated categorically that there never was a time when the Library was not. What's more, no one had ever penetrated its secret, the secret of its organization. Thus while it reputedly contained the accumulated wisdom of the ages, the Library was for all intents and purposes virtually useless. It was, for example, and apart from the totally fortuitous occurrence, impossible to find any one particular book or any one particular edition of any one particular book written in any one particular language.
The ordained and traditional role of he chief librarian was to discern amid the apparent chaos of the Library some coherence, some organizing principle which the priests and the king and, of course, the king ruled by the investiture of the priests declared existed as an article of faith. So important was the position of chief librarian that, contrary to the practice in many other branches of the immense and arcane bureaucracy of the kingdom, succession was not hereditary. Indeed, when the need arose and a new librarian was required, the post was bestowed upon the man considered to be the greatest scholar in the land. And so it was that Mahfouz was eventually installed and, shortly thereafter, set about his thankless and no doubt somewhat quixotic task.
Mahfouz moved into the Library where he occupied the modest quarters of the former chief librarian who had been discovered one morning dead of a heart attack and went about his sacred duties with deliberation and, if not with joy, certainly with resignation. Mahfouz refused to delude himself with dreams of success. He resolved nonetheless to fulfill his obligations with integrity.
From the meager and contradictory notes left by his predecessors he quickly realized that the Library was not organized in any simplistic or readily discernable manner. The texts were not arranged alphabetically by either author or title. Easily dismissed as well were schemes which posited a deployment according to mere subject matter or language of composition. He quickly rejected as well classifications dependent upon chronology such as date of composition or publication so far as those facts could be ascertained. Physical size, number of pages, type of binding etc. were all similarly posited and rejected as were scores of other equally obvious schemata.
As the years passed inexorably and Mahfouz wandered the corridors endlessly scanning text after text, he decided that the Library's secret must be one of a far more abstruse, even metaphysical, nature. He spent nearly a decade researching such possibilities.
One day, while reading a monograph on labyrinths, the truth began to dawn upon the elderly chief librarian. The resolute belief of the priests and the king presupposed quite dogmatically and quite erroneously it was now clear to Mahfouz that the Library was a labyrinth and that the placement of books therein must perforce conform to some hidden design. Labyrinths were, after all, artificial and thus were the result of mindfulness however obscure or occult. His years spent scouring the tomes in the Library not to mention the broad scope of his learning had, however, convinced Mahfouz that the arrangement of books in the Library was completely, utterly and unquestionably random. The only order that prevailed was disorder. That being the case, the role of the chief librarian should thus be to impose some design, some coherence, where chaos reigned. He resolved to report his findings to the king and the priests.
Two days later, the chief librarian was brought before the king and the high priest who sat slightly behind and to the right of the monarch. Mahfouz bowed low. Sandalwood burned fragrantly in braziers that were spaced strategically throughout the royal audience hall.
Sire, Mahfouz began. He acknowledged the presence of the high priest with a reverent nod. The evidence is irrefutable. There is no plan or organizing principle behind the arrangement of books in the Library. I have performed my duties faithfully now for over two decades and I am willing to stake my reputation and indeed my livelihood on my findings.
The king and the high priest listened in silence.
I most humbly suggest that we begin immediately to catalog the texts in the Library by title, language and subject matter. I realize that such an undertaking will take years, the lifetimes perhaps of three or four chief librarians to be sure. When that task has been completed, the priests and sages across the land should be consulted in order to devise some coherent organizational scheme. At that point, the books will have to be moved carefully, solemnly, of course into that prescribed configuration.
The king and the high priest exchanged a glance. So enrapt was Mahfouz that he barely noticed.
Your highness and your eminence I realize that this will be a work for the ages but future generations will come to bless your august names as the ones under whom it began.
As Mahfouz finished, he bowed low again. Meanwhile two guards entered the chamber silently from behind a crimson arras off to the left. As the chief librarian lifted his head and his eyes met those of the king and high priest, he was lay hold of and whisked quickly, silently from the room.
Mahfouz was held incommunicado for two days after which he was executed on charges of blasphemy and treason. A new (more credulous) chief librarian had of course taken his place one day earlier.