“Good morning,” I say to the pony in the mirror, carefully straightening her bowtie. “First day?” She nods. “Well good luck. Be sure to make a good impression.” I lift my name tag off the nightstand and pin it on. “You ready?”

Well, am I?

I stand up straight as I can and examine my mirror-self. The uniform is crisp and new and the red velvet jacket fits me very well for being a generic size “medium.” Though surely that unicorn in the mirror can’t be me--not some third tier assistant librarian from Manehattan’s research branch. No, no, the unicorn in the mirror is a rising star: Page Turner, First Page of the Royal Canterlot Archive!

I begin to giggle hysterically. “Page Turner, First Page.” I repeat. Lovely. My dream job makes me sound like a Daring Do character. Perhaps I have Celestia’s infinite humor to thank for this opportunity.

I take a step back. In her red jacket and bow tie, the pony in the mirror looks every bit the professional. Like she belongs running the most prestigious library in Canterlot. I keep scanning her face, trying to find myself in there somewhere. Maybe the Page Turner who once misfiled all the biographies under biology had gotten on a different train, and this young promising go-getter ended up in Canterlot instead. I guess the clothes really do make the mare.

“You are going to be fine Page.” I tell the unicorn in the mirror. “You are good at this. You’ve always been good at helping people find what they need. And that’s your job. Helping people. You are going to be fine.”

Actually, yeah. I am going to be fine. Old Sans Serif will eat her words faster than those stupid alfalfa chips she always keeps at the desk. I am going to do a great job. And then I will get transferred out of her tiny department and I will never reshelve books again.

I toss my mane, and cough sternly into my hoof. Every inch a proper librarian.

I’m the boss now.

And I am so going to ace this.

So.

Turns out I am the only Page of the Royal Canterlot Archive.

I’m not sure what I expected.

Glory? Prestige? Something impressive to put on my resume? I mean this is the Canterlot Archive! Repository of the rarest magical texts in all of Equestria! And this is me--running it--for at least a week!

...By myself. That’s impressive right?

Okay, the letter was a tad vague. But an “Emergency Relief Position” “Managing the Archive” does seem to imply.... Well, that there was someone to be managed. Or something.

I look up from the desk. The soft silence of dust and books hangs in the air, forbidding sound with the quiet magic of libraries. Not just a few books. Thousands. Millions. The main archive is almost three times the size of the Manehatten Public Library, I remember--and that doesn’t even include the specialty wings.

Well look on the bright side, if there’s no one else here, then I can’t get stuck in some back room reshelving the cookbooks to reflect the most trendy Manehatten taste palette.

Yeah. Right. I got this. I absently shuffle the papers on the desk as I turn back to the neat, typed instructions left by Bound Volume, whose empty shoes suddenly feel impossibly big.

...While I must attend to my Aunt’s unfortunate resizing, this absence comes at a most inconvenient time, I am afraid, in that I was in the middle of the archive’s bicentennial re-alphabetization. I have already completed the first one hundred and twenty seven shelves--that is Aaaah: Spells for a Fearful Heart by Aaaalabaster Boo through Gnostic Theory of Subtropical Changling Magic by Hatty Pinboard. You will need to continue this task between helping patrons. The shelves need to be back in order and accurately alphabetized by the end of next week when the court unicorns are coming to renew the indexing spells.

Attached you will find the official protocol to follow when reshelving the remaining two hundred and twenty three stacks to reflect the modern Equestrian linguistic shifts...

I blink.

...reshelving the remaining two hundred and twenty three stacks…

I blink again.

...reshelving...
... two hundred and twenty three...

Quite suddenly it feels as though a great deal of fluid has drained out of my head. I look up again at the miles of shelving. Not just a few books. Thousands. Millions. Almost three times the size of the Manehatten Public Library. And I have to reshelve them. In a week. Well actually, says some detached part of my brain, technically, you only have to reshelve two-thirds of them.
...I think I’m going to go faint. Or puke. Maybe both.

I shouldn’t do that at the front desk. That wouldn’t be very professional. I feel myself spin around with some notion of finding a trash can, but my legs tangle together and instead I fall flat on my face. The cold marble pulls me back to the world, brain letter soup resolving into a single solid thought:

My dream job is just my old job, but harder. A lot harder.

A distant chiming of bells drifts in through a high window marking the hour: 8 o'clock. With a sudden swell of magic, lights throughout the archive flicker on. With calm precise unison doors on all sides open up. Like clockwork, in a beautiful moment, the Canterlot Archive comes alive.

I remember that I am on the floor.

I straighten up, feeling my mane flop about haphazardly. What if there are people here? Important people! This is the Canterlot Archive! The most important mages in Canterlot could be waiting outside with some vital question which could determine the fate of all Equestria! I swallow but nothing seems particularly interested in going down.

What if they were waiting at the desk right now? I peek out over the wood rim.

The silence is deafening. I pull myself up the desk, flattening my hair with a hoof. I catch my reflection in a polished brass plaque: hair’s a mess, glasses askew, coat rumpled. Every inch a pony way out of her depth. I blink.

The pony in the reflection frowns, straightening her bow tie, “First day?”

I nod.

Author's Notes:

I had a hell of a time tagging this story. Fimfiction simply not have the structure for posting mysteries, I remain confused as to how to communicate what they hell I'm writing. It's just... IT IS A SLICE OF LIFE ADVENTURE, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO TELL YOU.