I was underneath a giant telescope, or maybe it was a microscope, and I was just a tiny person standing on the glass slide. Anyway, it was a blue, labyrinthine mechanism, a monolith inseparable from the structure of the room. I looked up into the lens. It opened up, and it dispensed a book. As it did, I could see endless towers of books inside. I caught the book and began to read. And by “read,” I mean “experience,” as each book was like a portal through which my consciousness would travel and either occupy the bodies of people in strange worlds, or simply hover above that world and observe. The machine made it clear to me that I could only read one book at a time. But I would be expected to read a great deal of books.