The Slumbering Indices
You are woken by an insistent tap on your nose. After rolling over to regain the comfort of sleep, you slap away a hasty poke in the ear. A more firm prodding in the small of the back brings you upright and face-to-face with an angry Moolog librarian. To this sobering sight you are roused to your feet, wondering what happened to the page you were reading a moment earlier. The librarian returns your quizzical expression with an exasperated arm, pointed at a hole in the ground. A librarian is here, waiting impatiently for you to leave. There is a large dusty tome snoozing on a table.