Page 1 of The Session

The Librarian

Benjamin ran his fingers along the shelves, feeling the labels on each of the folders.

“How many are there?” he asked.

“Millions,” the older man named Keller replied.

“And we’re the only ones allowed down here?”

“Those are the rules. That’s the way it works,” Keller told him.

“Why did you select me?” Benjamin asked.

“You like to keep to yourself, not a gossip, but friendly enough. Not likely to get bored out here.”

“And we’re allowed to go outside?” Benjamin asked.

“Anytime you want, you’re welcome to go for a walk out there. Of course, there’s not much to do. It’s more fun in the rec room, and the ship comes every two weeks, and you get time off in town. We’ve got an apartment there,” Keller explained.

“Do you know what’s in all of these?” wondered Benjamin.

Keller pulled a folder off the shelf and handed it to him.

Benjamin inspected the label. “Hey, that’s my name.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not very thick,” Keller assured him.

Benjamin flipped open the folder and ran his fingers across the pages. “They’re not in braille.”

“Correct. That way we can’t read them,” Keller explained.

“So we only know the names of the people the folder belongs to?”

“Right, not what’s inside of it,” Keller said.

“But we’re the only ones allowed down here,” said Benjamin.

“Exactly. When something comes in from the machines, the braille reader tells us where it should go. And then when we get a request for a folder, we pull that one out and nothing else.”

“That’s a pretty complicated system.”

“It was designed to keep people honest with other people’s secrets,” said Keller. “At least that was the intention.”

2500 Bayshore Drive

Mark Greenley thanked his Uber driver and stepped out of the old Toyota onto the plaza in front of 2500 Bayshore Drive. The rising sun gleamed off the building’s windows so brightly he had to squint. He watched a young woman in a short skirt and tight-fitting blouse walk to a fountain and sit beside an equally attractive friend. He’d been in Miami for less than an hour and couldn’t decide whether this was normal for the city or unique to the building he was about to enter.

As Mark walked toward the glass doors, another woman exited and smiled at him.

Mark returned an awkward grin and hoped that the Walker Slater jacket Holly had bought him would make up for the fact that he was wearing pants and a shirt he’d picked up off the discount rack at Marshalls.

He tried not to think about luxury, but it was hard to ignore when he stepped into the massive lobby. The floor was a sea of blue tiles surrounding couches and lounge areas that sat like tiny islands in a vast ocean. Enormous video walls wrapped around the five-story atrium, showing sweeping landscapes and shots of solar panels, marching soldiers, ships crashing through waves, and satellites orbiting the earth.

Mark felt overwhelmed and was convinced he had the wrong address.

As he looked around at all the well-dressed, energetic people—many younger than his twenty-six years—he felt a little sad that the meeting wasn’t going to be in here.

He checked his phone again. The address was correct: 2500 Bayshore Drive. Still, this wasn’t what he’d expected the headquarters of a nonprofit to look like.