“What do you like?”

“Anything. I mean, y’know, everything.” Words on a page, any words. More promising than the life we’re all living.

He pursed his lips. “Hmmm. An omnivore. That makes it harder.”

“Makes what harder?”

“Recommending the right book.”

Okay, here comes the sales pitch. Still, this was my longest reasonable conversation with a stranger since I woke up in the Ward. Had to watch out. His easy manner was catching. “But if I like everything, it won’t matter what you recommend.”

“Good point. Let’s try random access.” He reached blindly over his shoulder, grabbed whatever his fingers landed on, and handed it across the desk. “How about that one?”

“Ten Easy Steps to a Thinner You?”

“Oh, gad!” He snatched it back and lobbed it into the shadows behind him. “I’d gladly weed out the self-helps, but believe it or not, they sell now and then. You pick one.”

“I . . . um . . . wasn’t thinking of buying . . .”

“That’s okay. Pick one anyway.”

“But . . .”

“Read it and bring it back.” He threw both arms in the air like they might fly right off his shoulders. “Ta-ta! Daniel Nathan’s Portable Lending Library.”

“You’d lend me a book? You don’t even know me.”

“So? Libraries used to do it all the time. Yeah, okay, you needed a library card. I could write one out if it’d make you feel better. You got a tab or phone that works?”

“Um . . . no.”

“Then borrow a hard copy. Help yourself.”

Really, what was he up to? “Any book? In the whole tent?”

“Sure! Can’t afford books? You should still get to read them. Not so easy since the book sites went down and the public libraries moved out of town.” Now he whirled his arms in circles and stamped his feet. “Readers of the Dying World, unite! We have nothing to lose but our minds!”

Perhaps he already had.

I mean, he looked sane enough, well fed and clean shaven, with good color to his cheeks, but he had to be a little nuts. Or trying out a very weird sales pitch. He wore jeans, baggy but in decent shape, and a black T-shirt with the logo of some long-dead rock group. Like, y’know . . . normal.

“How do you know I’ll bring it back?”

“Well, I don’t, do I.” He dropped his arms to his knees and leaned forward until his chair creaked ominously. His eyes were a warm hazel but his gaze intense. Clearly on a mission, whatever it was. Or maybe on drugs? “That’s the fun of it. If you do bring it back, I get to lend you another one, and then another, and think of all the books you can look forward to.”

Such riches. I wanted to believe him.

“Doesn’t it cut into your profit?”

He gave a careless wave. “Ecch.”