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trying to persuade my parents to switch me off. If this place is a metaphor, then perhaps I have to strive toward some goal in order to wake up? Has my subconscious mind set some kind of puzzle for me?
    "Hey!" I shout at the sky, hoping that there might be some way to communicate with my parents. "I'm alive in here! Listen to me!" I wait for some kind of response. All I need is a sign that there's someone out there, but right now I feel as if I'm completely alone. Turning, I hobble as fast as possible along the aisle, determined to get back to the door. If I'm ever going to find a way out of here, I probably need to retrace my steps and head back to the beginning. My subconscious mind must have left some kind of clue for me. Once I've worked out what I'm supposed to do, I can get going. I might be in a coma, and I might be imagining some kind of weird library, but I'm not dead yet. I can still find a way out of this.
    As hard as I try, though, I can't seem to find the route back to the wall. Hurrying down aisle after aisle, pushed onward by adrenalin and fear, I start to wonder whether somehow the shelves have been moving to block my way. Eventually I come to a halt at a crossroads that gives me four possible routes. Suddenly, feeling as if I'm being watched, I turn and see a figure nearby, sitting at what appears to be a camp-fire. My first instinct is to run, but slowly the figure looks up at me and, from beneath the shawl that covers most of his face, I see a smile.

V anguard
     
    "She was right here," Sharpe says as we stand on either side of a shallow grave. "I swear to God, I buried her right here. I even put a pipe in her mouth, so she'd be able to breathe. I thought of everything!"
    "How deep did you bury her?" I ask, feeling a sense of anger rise through my body. If Thomas J. Sharpe had a neck, I'd have snapped it by now. He had a human; a real, live human, and he let it get away.
    "Just enough to cover her," he explains. "I mean, look at me! You don't seriously expect me to dig a proper six-foot pit, do you? I was in a hurry. I was on my way to find you!"
    "She can't have got far," I say, glancing around. "If she's human, she won't have a clue where she is, so she'll probably just wander aimlessly. Humans are notoriously poor when it comes to exploring new lands." I pause for a moment, trying to pick up her scent. "Where's the nearest gate into the library?"
    "There's only the one we used to come out here," he replies. "Or there's a smaller one, about fifty meters that way." He points to the east. "I don't see why she'd go all the way along there, though."
    "Never try to anticipate a human's movements," I reply. "They're not logical. They make strange decisions based on little more than conjecture. For all we know, she might have decided to run into the mountains. I know everything there is to know about humans, and sometimes they still surprise me."
    "She was a smart one," he says. "I could see it in her eyes. Usually it's not too hard to persuade them that they're imagining things, but this one could tell I was real. That's why I had to bring her here, and of course my very first thought was to offer her to you as a symbol of my humble appreciation. And as a bargaining tool, naturally."
    "We must find her," I say, as my stomach rumbles. It has been almost a month since I ate anything of substance, and a fresh human would be the perfect way to break this enforced fast. Just the thought of human flesh in my mouth is enough to drive me to a rage that I have not felt for some time. One good meal would be enough to give me the strength I need for the journey back to the Citadel.
    "Well, I wish you the best of luck," Sharpe says, patting me on the leg. "I've delivered my side of the bargain. I'll be in touch when I need to cash in on your promise of loyalty. Right now, however, I must -"
    "You will be coming with me," I tell him.
    "Alas, I must get to sorting office. I have books that must be re-shelved."
    "You'll get