Work Text:
“Let’s begin the search.” Philip starts, opening his arms with a flourish. “The keywords?”
He only listens vaguely as Shoutarou rattles off key facts in their latest case – the library knows his partner as well as he does these days. It doesn’t need Philip to reiterate them. The words filter through the library’s extensive database, leaving a familiar book behind.
“Fuuto,” Philip reads aloud. It would look worn and dog-eared had it been physically real, he figures, with how often he flips through its pages, searching for specific locations within their beloved town. Their suspect is near the pier area, from what it looks like, but Philip pauses before he reaches the page, hands lingering on a fragment of handwritten letters between the margins.
“The most authentic Osakan takoyaki is actually served in – “ It reads, a correction Philip wrote in on a whim while listening to Akiko rant about what she considered an infringement on her pride as an Osakan native. It’s a subjective note but no less factual for being an opinion.
Actually, “Fuuto” and all its related books have such notes scribbled all over them, and should in fact be rebound with Shoutarou named as editor for all the words Philip has written in verbatim from his partner’s mouth. Most of the addendums are about Shoutarou’s favorite hangouts. Best location to view Fuuto Tower, which Chinese delivery arrives the fastest, places to hide when Detective Jinno comes after you, which café serves watered down black coffee – Philip can probably map out Shoutarou’s footprints across the city with this book alone, and none of it in printed information.
“Hey, Philip, you find it yet?” Shoutarou calls, impatience flitting into his voice, and Philip blinks, fingers still trailing over handwritten ink.
“Oh. Just a moment, Shoutarou.” Coffee has mostly Terui’s annotations on proper brewing techniques, and these Philip takes to heart. Philip notes Akiko’s experiments and the variables used on occasion that the coffee comes out tasting palatable. Shoutarou’s sweet brew is only noted for completion.
What it comes down to, Philip thinks, is that the library is full of objective information: printed information from physical books existing in the real world outside of the library or observable facts written in the library’s own dry code. Subjective information is excluded because these facts rely on the senses – the vivid colors of the dusk sky against Fuuto Tower’s modern architecture is only appreciated through sight, the various sweets of Wakana’s favorite pastry shops noticeable only through taste, the nauseating effect of Jimmy Nakata’s song only realized through sound, the decision to taste or avoid the coffee in the office best noted through smell, and the warmth of everyone’s presence at the end of a hard case best cherished through touch.
None of these facts are noted in the books of the library, so Philip has made it his working goal to write them in himself. With Philip the Gaia library’s only current user, he doesn’t know if his work will stay or be ever useful to those who might come after him, but sometimes he hears a distant giggle when he writes in a new fact or a deep hum when he notes something Shoutarou has said. And a world without sensations is a very dull one, Philip knows. He knows it best.
“Hey! Philip? Are you alright in there?” Ah, he’s kept Shoutarou waiting too long.
“I’m fine. Sorry, I got distracted. The result was….”
The book feels heavy and familiar in Philip’s hands. It’s as close to dog-eared as it gets in the library. It’s good enough.