Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore [antikvár]

HELP WANTED Lost in the shadows of the shelves, I almost fall off the ladder. I am exactly halfway up. The floor of the bookstore is far below me, the surface of a planet I've left behind. The tops of the shelves loom high above, and it's dark up there—the books are packed in close, and they don't let any light through. The air might be thinner, too. I think I see a bat. I am holding on for dear life, one hand on the ladder, the other on the lip of a shelf, fingers pressed white. My eyes trace a line above my knuckles, searching the spines—and there, I spot it. The book I'm looking for. But let me back up. My name is Clay Jannon and those were the days when I rarely touched paper. I'd sit at my kitchen table and start scanning help-wanted ads on my laptop, but then a browser tab would blink and I'd