“Over here are the archives, meticulously organised and filed, alphabetically ordered and cross-referenced. Sub-categories nestle within umbrella categories. Nothing is overlooked – all existing information can be accommodated, and classifications can be infinitely expanded to incorporate new contributions.”
“I can access anything here?”
“Guaranteed. Subject, of course, to idiosyncratic processing capacities.”
“I’m impressed. But what’s in that building next door? It looks the same.”
“Oh that. We don’t go in there. It’s a minefield of disorder. Their system is inexplicable – files are mingled indeterminately, or worse – left lying around, uncategorised!”
“Wow. Scary. What’s it called?”
This is another story for Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ weekly flash fiction page. My right brain is obviously sparking in response to this week’s prompt, and as the number of contributions is fewer than usual this week, I thought I’d be so bold as to post twice. Forgive me if I’m taking up too much space.
If you’re interested, here’s my first one.