These pilgrims disputed in the narrow corridors, proffered dark curses, strangled each other on the divine stairways, flung the deceptive books into the air shafts, met their death cast down in a similar fashion by the inhabitants of remote regions. Thousands of the greedy abandoned their sweet native hexagons and rushed up the stairways, urged on by the vain intention of finding their Vindication. At that time a great deal was said about the Vindications: books of apology and prophecy which vindicated for all time the acts of every man in the universe and retained prodigious arcana for his future. The universe was justified, the universe suddenly usurped the unlimited dimensions of hope. There was no personal or world problem whose eloquent solution did not exist in some hexagon. All men felt themselves to be the masters of an intact and secret treasure. “When it was proclaimed that the Library contained all books, the first impression was one of extravagant happiness.
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