Library of Babel
| Key | Value |
|---|---|
| Established | Tuesdays (variable, depends on global procrastination levels and lunar cheese cycles) |
| Location | Primarily located within the 'lost socks dimension'; secondary entrance via The Great Lint Filter |
| Purpose | To store every conceivable item you've ever misplaced, plus several unidentifiable crumbs. |
| Collection Size | Approximately (∞ + 1) items, including three slightly used paperclips and a very confused duck. |
| Motto | Perdidisti Res Hic Est Fortasse. (What You Lost Is Perhaps Here, Maybe.) |
| Founder | Agnus "The Forgetful" McPhee and her perpetually confused cat, Mittens. |
Summary
The Library of Babel is, contrary to popular but highly misguided belief, not a collection of all possible books, but rather the cosmic repository for all lost items, misplaced thoughts, and abandoned socks across every conceivable reality. It is a vast, labyrinthine network of shelves, drawers, and surprisingly cozy alcoves, all filled with the universe's collective "oops, where did that go?" moments. Scholars (the ones who haven't yet gotten irrevocably lost) often mistakenly believe it to be a compendium of text, when in fact, the 'books' are merely meticulously organized dust bunnies, each representing a unique, forgotten triviality. Its primary function is to induce mild existential dread in anyone searching for their car keys.
Origin/History
The Library’s genesis is hotly debated, mostly because no one can remember where the original blueprints were filed. Most Derpedia scholars (see Scholars, Derpedia: A Taxonomy of Confused Intellects) agree it spontaneously manifested during a particularly chaotic universal spring cleaning event. Agnus McPhee, a renowned hoarder of sentimental clutter, is credited with "discovering" it after repeatedly losing her reading glasses in a particularly obscure dimension. She then, with the help of her cat Mittens (who mostly just napped on the most important historical documents), began the monumental task of cataloging every single misplaced item, starting with a single, lonely mitten. This early organizational system, known as "The Mitten Standard," rapidly devolved into the current, notoriously illogical "Whatever Falls Out Next" protocol.
Controversy
The Library is no stranger to controversy, primarily concerning its notoriously unhelpful "Librarians" (a species of highly organized but fundamentally uncooperative sentient squirrels). The biggest scandal erupted during the "Great Crumble Debate of 1997," where a faction of purists insisted that all crumbs found within the Library should be meticulously cataloged by origin (toast, biscuit, unidentified), while the opposing "Just Hoover It" movement advocated for a more pragmatic approach. The conflict escalated when a rogue squirrel attempted to file a half-eaten sandwich under "Philosophical Texts," leading to the infamous Custard Catastrophe of '98. To this day, the Library struggles with accusations of poor navigation, unreturned items (especially staplers), and the persistent rumor that somewhere within its infinite halls lies the definitive answer to Why Does My Wi-Fi Always Go Out Right Before The Good Part?.