HELP WANTED Late Shift Specific Requirements Good Benefits Now: I was pretty sure that "twenty-four-hour book store" was a euphemism for something. It was on Broadway, in a euphemistic part of town. My help-wanted hike had taken me far from home, and the place next door had a sign with neon legs that crossed and uncrossed. Inside: imagine the shape and volume of a normal bookstore turned up on its side. This place was absurdly narrow and dizzyingly tall, and the shelves went all the way up--five stories of books. I craned my neck back--why do bookstores always force you to do uncomfortable things with your neck?--and the shelves faded smoothly into the shadows of the ceiling in a way that suggested they might just go on forever. There were ladders that clung to the tall shelves and rolled side-to-side. Those usually seem charming, but here, stretching up into the gloom, they seemed ominous. I stuck to the front, where weak morning light pressed through the windows. The front of the store was almost all glass, bright clear panes set into a grid of black iron, and arched across them, written in gold, it said (in reverse) PENUMBRA'S TWENTY-FOUR-HOUR BOOK STORE Excerpted from Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
