I’m researching a new play and took the opportunity to drop into the recently zhuzhed Wellington Central Library. Te Matapihi Te Ao Nui was closed for earthquake strengthening in 2019, so we Wellingtonians have been without a central library for six years – I’d almost forgotten how they work.

It didn’t help that within minutes of entry I was wandering aimlessly between the 3D printer room, a woodworking laser-cutter workshop, and a sewing studio. By the time I reached the book shelves I was exhausted. Realising I was out of my depth, I approached the front desk.

Best decision ever. Here’s a tip: forget artificial intelligence – go ask an actually intelligent librarian ANYTHING. Her fingers flew over the keyboard; she took my vague notions of setting, time period, and character, and translated them into Dewey Decimal numbers on a post-it note. I found exactly what I didn’t know I was looking for. Upon arriving home, there was a follow-up email with more suggestions and a link to the archives.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, this poem popped up on my browser not long after:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s to our dishonest librarians!