S1E3 - Into the Wanderers' Library - Episode 3 - Mirror Image

Hello and welcome to the third and next installment of into the Wanderer's Library with Professor Artyom Harkin. I have been told that the prior. Prior episode. Previous episode. I've been told that the previous episode had garnered quite a bit of support and a handful of avid listeners. And so I figured, well, I've got a little bit of free time. Well, actually, I've got a lot of free time. My vocational role here at the library does kind of allow me to doss about effectively reading and studying the whole. The whole livelong day. Which I don't mind. Absolutely don't mind at all. It is currently just me in the library at the moment. All the other staff have gone. Well, they've gone. They just walk about. I'm sure they're somewhere else. I'm sure they'll turn up. I hope some more turn up. Hopefully with some more food. I'm quite hungry, actually. Should have left some to spare. Anyway, I've been given once more another suggestion from my dear Theo. Oh, and incidentally, before I continue, I have to address certain rumours. There has been speculation that the reason I was forcefully evicted from my role as mythology professor at the University of Progress was because of, and I quote, soliciting a student. Which is completely false. It wasn't soliciting a student. I was merely in a relationship with someone who happened to be studying at the same time as all of my other pupils. Which isn't a crime. He was an adult. I'm an adult. He was 25. I'm 104. Well, I was 102, actually. Oh, God, the kids will be two now. But yes, sorry, had to address that. Whatever rumors you've heard. Completely untrue. But regardless, I've been recommended a story from, my dear. I mean, from my editor, Theo, a story from a bard about a spider, which, if you know anything about me, it's really quite fitting. I'd say somewhat complimentary. And for those who don't have the context. Well, ask Theo. Really? I'd show you, but I'm not allowed to come on camera because apparently my physical appearance has been known to drive people. What was the word they used? Insane? Yes, insane. Which is odd because you'd thought people would be used to arachnids. But maybe it's just the fact that I'm human sized or slightly above human sized by about an inch. But regardless, here we have Jack of Trades by Bard. Bard. Which is a bit like calling an accountant. Accountant. Accountant. Or calling your professional lawyer. Liar. Liar. Incidentally, Liar. Liar. One of my favorite Jim Carrey films. So, Jack of Trades by Bard. Bard. I once met a spider named Jack. A sizable fellow. He was the size of my fist and eight legs as long as my hand. They were dexterous, too, complimenting his keen mind. That was where his name came from, Jack of Trades. For with each leg he could conduct each of his trades. With one, he was a blacksmith. Ooh, hang on. Stuttered a little bit there. There we go. I found myself. With one, he was a blacksmith, forging steel like silk. That with another, he would spin into death traps. With a third, he would contemplate the design of his web. He was an architect. With the fourth, he would climb the tallest of trees and bask in the daylight so that all would see his splendor and in it take delight. Oh, yes, he was most proud. Why wouldn't he be? He was the most talented spider to have ever graced the land. His crafts as numerous as they were grand. I don't just weave whips, he said to me. I weave works of art. My drops, instruments of death. So much finer than all the rest. I'm sorry. I had to use my native accent. For the spider, it just. It fit. It fit. Then one day, Jack hatched a plan. Up the tallest of trees he climbed. He did not rest for two nights and two days until he reached the highest branch. The words some proclaims say he would touch the moon up there. Oh, hang on, I've read that entirely wrong. The words some proclaim say he would touch the moon up there. Or could. That's smudge. Ah. He did not rest for two nights and two days until he climbed the highest branch. The words some proclaim say he could touch the moon up there. But I digress, for one thing was certain. The height he had reached was a thing to impress. What Jack digged next was more August. Still working each of his renowned legs, he weaved a web from the base of the branch to its end. So mighty in scale was it that he said it would catch him the sun, and make him master of all that it touched. It will bring me the moon too, he told me once. And with the light of the brightest star, I shall be master of the night. Aim high, buddy. Catch them. He did. For as the sun climbed, it found itself twined in the mesh of Jack's web. For the moon, it soon found itself strewn with Jack's string, which clung to its opalescent veneer as it drew near to its ever evasive lover, the bringer of day. Now they were Tied to one another in Jack's trap for him to reign over. It was thus he crafted himself a throne of sunlight and moonlight. The very heavens made to bow before His Majesty. Yet it was not to last. Excuse me. Bit of a tickle. Just got a little something in my throat. Might go away. Might take me with it. Convinced himself as he pleased, Jack could not bend reality. Mortal he remained the need to feed with it. At first he ate a slice of the moon and then a slice more, leaving it in half. Yet his hunger was not sated. He tried to eat the sun next, devouring it and eclipsing the world for a day. The hunger lingered. Still, driven by starvation, he climbed down from his throne and checked the web for flies. So lost had he been with images of grandeur, he'd forgotten that no fly with their feeble wings could ever fly so high. The web lay empty. Barren. The death trap devoid of the one thing that defined its existence. Death. Filled with dismay and ination. Ination. Filled with dismay and inanition. Inanition. Inani. That's the first time I've ever seen that word. I've been reading for decades upon decades and I've never heard of the word inanition. Filled with dismay and inanition, he fell from the web and tumbled for the ground. Tumbled for an hour, piercing the clouds and landing hard on the ground. There he lay dead. And as he rest, he became a nest for the lowliest of life to digest maggots. Don't mock maggots. Some of my best friends are maggots. Oh proud jack of trades, I said to my friend, so high were thee in your proudly glee that you were the architect who weaved your end upon a new sunrise. You've become the prey of the things you've preyed upon. Flies. The web was left to decay. The wind would blow it away with a fray. It's puff enough to shove the sun and moon back up above the sky. Back above into the sky. Pardon me, I don't know what's wrong with me. Ow. Oh, that's a leg. I thought I would have just said that anyway. The web was left to decay. The wind would blow it away soon with a fray. Its puff enough to shove the sun and moon back above into the sky. There they remain and fly high. Shining upon their domain. The light that the world lives by. The Bard. And there is only one translation for this in Francois or Francais. I do not currently have any other Bible bilingual people who can read these alternate translations of the passages that I cover Here on into the Wanderers library. But when I do I'm. I'm. I'll talk with Theo about potentially adding them on as. As fellow vocal performers. Fellow readers. Fellow readers. Yes. So that was an interesting tale. On the perils of greed. On the power hungry and the desire for even more power. And how that desire can inevitably lead to one's own self destruction. It's the myth of Iiferus. It's the myth of Iiferus. Yes indeed it is. It's the myth of Icarus flying too close to the sun, desperate to reach something he can't and falling so very low. I can almost relate. When I get the chance, remind me to tell you all. Or perhaps those willing to listen about how exactly I got to where I am now. My arrival on your world was the result of me pulling an Icarus. Or in this case pulling a Jack. I like that name, Jack. One of my friends was called Jack once. Stringy fellow. Tasty all the same. Anyway, that was Jack of Trades by Bard. Bard. Once more this has been into the Wanderer's Library with Professor Harkin. Tune in next time for a restless wanderer on the earth. Thank you for listening and have a great day. Take care. Bye bye. Bye bye. That's so childish. I'm in a childish mood. I'm. I'm a. I'm a goober. How do. I don't know how to end the recording here. It's normally the buttons there. Oh incidentally Theo, if you're listening to this, you can cut this bit out. I miss you. It's. It's lonely here and I really, really wish I was home with you. With you and our kids. I know they'll be changing soon and I know when that happens I'll have a lot of questions that hopefully I'll be able to answer for them. Tell them I love them and that with any luck I might be able to find a way home if I'm lucky. Better. Best to edit this bit out and keep it between us because well, I don't want those lot upstairs hearing. Hell, they don't even know what I've done to the rest of the staff. In fairness, it wasn't my fault. They left me here without any food and they know my dietary requirements. They should be sending in a new faculty member or 10 to replace the ones you've gone missing. I'd also remember to season them next time. But that's me thinking out loud. But yes, you can edit this bit out. I'll see you soon. I love you And I miss you. All of you. See you soon.