Work Text:
Statement of Jonah Magnus, regarding what became of the artefact storage. Statement given concurrently with 15 billion other statements within the span of a second. Statement begins:
Five months. That is how long Jess thinks she’s been there, though it is impossible to tell for sure in that vast yet oppressive nursery.
It has been so, so long since Jess was dropped off by her father. She tried not to think about him. It made her cry. She tried her hardest to remember how he looked but for all the imagination her old mind could muster, she could not picture his face.
A bell rang twice. It was nap time. Jess forced herself to stay awake. It had been weeks since she’d last slept. Sleep was an oppressive hand pressing down upon her in all that darkness but she didn’t trust herself to sleep. It wasn’t worth what she could see. After what seemed like an eternity of children turning around restlessly, sobbing, some waking up screaming, the bell rang again. It was play time.
Jess ran away as far as her little legs would take her. She did not want to play. She did not want to pick something up out of that horrendous toy box. Most of all she did not want to see the older kids. They had all been given books to read, books from the Library of George Icarus. They were horrid, wretched books, she was sure of it.
She hid behind whatever colossal playhouse or pipes she could find. It was never big enough to hide her from the piercing gaze of Albus Page. He was the first of that year to get 5 gold stars in reading. Now he spent all his play time clutching his volume and staring at Jess. She hated his big hazel eyes and the way he never blinked. She hated how he could always find her no matter where she was. She tried to avert her gaze but she knew he was still there. She tried to talk to him, to tell him that it wasn’t okay, that she didn’t want him to state. he was dead silent.
Jess had decided that it was enough. She went to one of the caretakers, or ‘archival assistants’ as they called themselves. She told one about Albus and asked them, pleaded with them to help. They just looked down at her with a look of pity. She hated when adults did that. They were the ones in power, they had no right to act helpless!
The bell rang again. It was story time. Jess wanted to run again, to cover her ears, but she couldn’t. She, just like the other children, sat in their seats in a circle around the lady who was to read to them.
She was a gaunt woman, always pale with fear, always darting her eyes around frantically. She went to one of the sky blue bookshelves and ran her fingers over the books as if she was thinking. She could think all she wanted but it wouldn’t matter, she had no choice in which book she would pick.
The lady sat down in her chair and began reading in her usual croaking, strangled voice. By the end of the session Jess couldn’t remember what it was that she’d read to them. She just knew that all of them wept silently while the lady, sobbing frantically, was taken away by the other caretakers.
They wept for they understood the certainty of death and the end of all things. Most wept in fear, but Jess wept for she feared that the hope of an end was yet another lie the adults told her.