“The center stood on the plain and the sun came up over it and went down over it and it did not sleep. Inside was held everything the species had made, every photograph and every word, the voices of the dead and the faces of the newborn, kept cold, digital and turning in the dark, faithful and entire, and no hand came to call it up and no eye to read it. The countless green lights burned and burned down the long aisles and there was no one in all that place to number them.“