The Last Library

I can do it without you. But it will be slower." "Where is it moving to?" "You do not need to know yet. If you decide to help, I will tell you on the way." Karim did not, at first, answer. He stood up. He went to the window. He looked at the street, which was — like all streets in the town — quiet, official, certified. He looked at the screen-board on the corner, which was running, in its slow rotation, a public-information notice about the dangers of unverified printed material. He turned back to his mother. "I'll help. What time tonight?"