"[...] We keep a record for every member, and for every customer who might yet become a member, in order to track their work." He paused, then added,… - Robin Sloan

"Some of them are working hard indeed."
"What are they doing?"
"My boy!" he said, eyebrows raised. As if nothing could be more obvious: "They are reading."

"He paused, then added, "Some of them are working very hard indeed."
"What are they doing?"
"My boy!" he said, eyebrows raised. As if nothing could be more obvious: "They are reading.

Well, actually, I love books because books are my best friends.

Is this a book club? How do they join? Do they ever pay? These are the things I ask myself when I sit here alone, after Tyndall or Lapin or Fedorov has left. Tyndall is probably the weirdest, but they’re all pretty weird: all graying, single-minded, seemingly imported from some other time or place. There are no iPhones. There’s no mention of current events or pop culture or anything, really, other than the books. I definitely think of them as a club, though I have no evidence that they know one another. Each comes in alone and never says a word about anything other than the object of his or her current, frantic fascination.

They're just bacteria. They don't think or plan. They just...exist.'
'Just exist? They do things we only dream of. They are fecund and potent, they can speak to one another with chemicals and light, they can form teams — oh, the teams they can form. Millions strong, all working together perfectly. If we could cooperate like that — if we could even get close — we would have all of our problems solved.