Jamie (taintedphallus) wrote in stainedglasscom,

Funes y Yo

I awoke in a hexagonal room. It had four walls covered with books, and the other two sides, opposite one another, led to rooms that looked exactly the same. They in fact did so endlessly. In the center of the room there was a spiral staircase, leading both upwards and downwards similarly ad infinitum. I later learned that this was in fact la Biblioteca de Babel, the librarian universe of the Borges short story of the same name. As I was looking around, I heard a flapping of wings beneath me, and as I looked down the spiral staircase I saw a raven ascending as gracefully as possible in that confined space. He made his way up to my hexagon, and perched on a stair that put him at eye level with me. I looked at him quizzically, and he asked, “¿Qué? ¿Nunca has visto un cuervo?” Not only did his voice sound almost human, speaking perfect Spanish, I understood him. I managed to stumble out a “Yes,” but nothing more. I reached out toward him and touched his feathers; it felt just like the book had felt. Reading the intrigued yet bewildered look on my face, he squawked, “¿Qué es mi nombre?” Somehow he managed to grin with a beak as my eyes widened and “Funes” sprang from my lips. “Bueno,” he replied, “Sluagh siempre son sabios.”

Sluagh?, I thought, What the Hell is a Sluagh?

“Tú eres, para uno.” I gaped in awe at the insight that bird had into my mind. “Tendrás que saber mucho más, señorito,” he stated. He took to the air, flew to a shelf and grabbed a book in his talons. “Empieza con esto,” he said, tossing it into my hands. As I caught it, the book discorporated and drifted up through my head and back to the shelf. All of my senses went completely numb for a few seconds as information of the ages flooded through my mind. I nearly lost my balance and fell to my knees as if before God. Images, words, rationalities, instincts, even emotions—Funes’ mental recordings are works of indescribably glory. What he gave me right then was what a Changeling mentor would have taken a week to teach me. In that instant I acquired all common knowledge of the Kithain, and before I could take a gasp of recovery, another ghost book was dashing across my neurons. This one taught me some of the more interesting things about my particular Kith; that is when I found out why Funes had been able to so readily judge my abilities and predilections. “He knows my type,” as he is never loath to remind me. “Y ahora,” he said, “de mí y de ese lugar. Sígueme.” He closed his eyes and vanished. After an exasperated sigh and the beginning of a yell, I understood, just as he knew I would. I closed my eyes and imagined myself following Funes, and immediately I felt myself dematerialize (a magnificently liberating feeling, that is). I saw Funes in front of me, an incorporeal bird flying through incorporeal floors and walls of incorporeal hexagonal chambers. We began to accelerate, turning our path more and more often (I imagine the only thing that kept me from dizziness was the fact that I had no physical head to be shaken around), until the world around us was a blur of light and shadow. Then, all of a sudden, we stopped. We were no longer in a hexagonal chamber, but a circular one. There were no doors, no stairs, no sign of exits or entrances at all. Only the Book. Its spine is a continuous circle; it spans the perimeter of the room. Why is this room different? This is the chamber of Funes. The Book is Funes himself. And in the Library, Funes is God.

Funes flapped his wings a single time, and pages of the Book passed through their binding, came together in a perfect stack, and slowly approached me. I braced for the impact of knowledge again, and the deluge this time was more intense and numbing than before. The existence of Funes, even in summary, is a tale that cannot be captured in words, at least not to a fraction of the detail to which he remembers it. However, for your benefit, I shall do it the gross injustice of further summary….
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