"Good morning!"

The booming startles you awake.

You are not in your bed. That would have been acceptable, considering that you fell asleep on your couch last night while watching the news. Problem is, you are not in your house.

You are in a Library, and in front of you is the Head Librarian.

"Oh, did I startle you? Good! Sleeping is poor bibliothetic ettiquete."

The serpent in front of you was so massive that both your mind and the narrative give up on trying to comprehend it, and instead opt to consider it merely planet sized, the length of its body extending endlessly into the pit before you. Its plumage is garish, with a hue of parrot green being the predominant color. Atop the bridge of its snout is a pair of reading glasses.

In between all the curses you spit out, you manage to ask it— rather impolitely— what it is.

"I'm the head librarian of this fine establishment. If you want anything more than that, I expect you to rinse your mouth some before you ask again."

You've run out of breath, on account of the screaming and cursing, so you mumble out the question again, more pleadingly.

"I am the Serpent of Knowledge draped upon the Tree of Life. Suitably cryptic, no?"

You're quickly transitioning from shocked to exasperated.

After taking a moment (several, actually, but the serpent remains patient) to recompose yourself, you ask a deluge of questions.

Where are you?

"A library. The Library. The Wanderer's Library. Before you ask, we are far away from what used to be your home."

You're not sure what to make of that.

Who are they?

"I have many epithets. Nahash, Jörmungandr, Quetzalcoatl, Archon, Satan. Ananteshesha."

It drops that last name on you with a certain weight, as if it expected you to recognize it. The message is lost on you, but it doesn't matter: you're not the intended audience.

How did you get here?

"Think back to your dreams. Therein lies your passage."

A dawning awareness of the past five nights comes upon you. You'd rather not recall your experiences, not for the moment.

Why are you here?

"To be saved from burning Tashkent. I was able to preserve you and your mind, up until the point where I had to pull away and spit you out here."

You don't want to ponder how literal that figure of speech was.

Burning Tashkent?

"Think back to the waking day. Tell me, was there anything out of place?"

Oh. Oh. It occurs to you that something wasn't right. Many things were wrong.

What, what happened?

"Reality as you know it was thrown into a pot and stirred. Subsequently, the divine peas mixed in with the memetic mashed potatoes and the extra-universal gravy. The gods waged war, physics broke down, and the noosphere turned in on itself. We will be at leisure to talk about it later."

Is something wrong?

"Yes. A new shipment of books came in from Universe Branch 9g55-yO8ψ-P. I'll need to sort that out."

What are you supposed to do now?

"Stay here and rest. I have my plans for you, but I'd rather not inundate you any moreso than I already have. Read some books to pass the time, you're in a library after all."

You sleep well that night.