Note to reader: I've changed the rank system from that of the ground-based army to that of naval and space defence.

We walked through the mezzanine's atrium, which was as I remembered it last: full of indigenous plants. I couldn't believe it had survived. I was looking up at a giant cedar growing in the middle of the atrium when I noticed a man on the 7th floor looking down at me. He was surrounded by guards. I couldn't see the expression on his face, but his arms were crossed and his legs were spread in the form of a military man. He was clearly watching us, or me.

I quickly let my gaze drift past him, but continued looking at the ceiling and the other plants on the different levels, trying to pretend I hadn't noticed him.

Michael and Nike were both walking beside me—one on either side. Michael pointed out the men with guns standing on each floor of the inner atrium, hundreds of them. "Look at all those people up there."

I charged ahead and ignored his question.

The promenade was gorgeous, just as I remembered it—bricks that had worn down a little over the years, andw bright green moss was growing between them.

We followed Tom ahead of us, and behind us was Corinne and Fred, and their daughter, Tabitha.

When we walked over the walkway to enter the library, my stomach really starting doing flips. Somehow they had managed to keep the library in good shape. There was electricity, the reality of which terrified me. This was a huge building—there must be an electrical source, and I could not hear generators. The building was hooked up to the city's grid, which was dead. How did they have electricity?

I wondered how long The Family had been here, and how I hadn't noticed or cared what was going on just across the water from me.

I tried to remember the last time I'd taken out my binoculars to look downtown, and couldn't think of a time in the recent past. Who wanted to look at a bunch of burnt down rubble that had been something great.

Tom turned around and smiled widely. "Miss Sims, everyone, I'm pleased to invite you into the Vancouver Public Library and the headquarters of the Cultural Preservation Taskforce."

He pulled open a heavy glass door and invited us in. A group of milita men and women carrying guns moved aside and let us pass.

"Commander." They each said as he passed, nodding respectfully at Tom, who nodded respectfully back.

I was impressed by this. Tom didn't strike me as a very serious man. He was intelligent, but there was something petulant about him. However, he did seem to have some kind of dazzling effect on everyone. They clearly looked up to him and feared him.

We went in single file, although Nike refused to let go of my hand, so she squeezed in on my right side. We walked into the centre of the first floor, which had been converted into a processing centre.

I watched as a hauly brought in a load of books and dropped them into a bin that spit them onto a very long treadmill type of conveyor belt. There were people standing a few feet apart, picking books off of the conveyor belt, all working very seriously. These were being stacked and packed into crates. There must have been hundreds of people working all in all.

At first I thought they were taking books from the library, but then I noticed where the haulies were coming from and saw they were coming from a door in the left wall—the books were coming from outside. And then I realised this was where they were sorting the books they had found in Vancouver.

I did not like the looks of this.

We walked towards the elevators, which had no doors and looked like black pits. I looked up in awe at the giant inner atrium, where the escalators had been previously. There were hundreds of plants on each level. I was seriously in awe at what theyd' done to the place. There was a very beautiful natural daylight coming from tubes that snaked along the ceiling. This lighting system was recently installed.

"Do you like that?" Tom asked.

I looked down at him, and saw he'd been staring at me. "Ah, yes of course, it's beautiful."

"That's my father's handiwork," Tom nodded. "He loves plants. He says that humanity's existence rests on our ability to protect and nurture the planet and what is left of its diversity."

I nodded. It made sense, and it was very beautiful. I could see how a plant library went hand in hand with a book library, and I wondered what other collections this man, Captain Mercer, was creating.

We continued walking to the elevators. There were cables hanging in there and I peaked down from a meter away to see that it plunged down into the darkness. Tom reached out and pressed the button, and miraculously, the cables started swinging and the elevator lowered towards us.

"Cool," Michael exclaimed and ran to look in the shaft, but Tom grabbed his shoulder and told him to stay away.

I breathed a sigh of relief and shook my head at the kid. We watched as the elevator lowered. I couldn't believe it was a real working elevator. It had been well used—someone had surely lived and died in that elevator at some point—but it had been cleaned up quite elegantly. There was even, somehow, electricity inside.

The system groaned loudly as it came to a stop and Tom hopped on with confidence. I grabbed onto Nike, who was clutching me fully around my mid-section and waited to see how sturdy it looked.

Michael jumped on as well and the elevator bounced a little. I did not want to get on that thing, and neither did Nike, clearly.

Just then I heard someone emotionally upset behind me. I thought at first someone was afraid of getting on the elevator, then I turned and saw Tabitha was hugging her parents.

"Everything's going to be okay," she said to her mother, who wasn't letting her go and was crying deeply. For a mute woman, she certainly could wail loudly.

"What's going on," I asked them, looking between them and Tom in the elevator.

Fred and Corrine were distraught. Especially Corrine. Fred looked more like a flustered bird, not able to find it's landing spot.

Tom shook his head and shrugged his shoulders sympathetically.

"Nicole," I urged, "let go of me." I pushed her off and walked back to Tabitha. "Is everything okay? What's going on?"

Tabitha mumbled through her tears: "I'm joining the Taskforce."

Wait, what? I thought for a moment. I was confused.

She turned to her mother and said, "I've made my decision. I'm doing this for you," she said softly.

I frowned. Doing what for them? I wondered. Joining the Taskforce? I looked around at the militia men and women for the first time. I mean I looked at them, in their eyes, looked at their faces, and saw that they were all just normal men and women. Many of them looked like they'd been beaten up by life, perhaps by the taskforce. Many looked proud, but many looked tired.

The people sorting the books—I wondered who they were and how The Family had gotten them to join to join the taskforce.

Tabitha had managed to disengage from her frail mother's grasp by forcefully sitting the woman down in her chair. "I've made my mind. Now stop it."

Jim tried to relax his wife, who was mutely fighting against him, trying to stand up. But she was too weak and old, and I grimaced as she fell limp in her chair with grief.

A few people from The Family came forward and pointed out another exit where a jeep was waiting. A woman wearing all black dress said, "Your vehicle is waiting to take you to your ship Mr and Mrs Donahue."

Corrine tried to put her foot down, but she was much to frail and Fred was able to push her easily, after giving one last look at his daughter.

We watched the group leave across the walkway and head back through the atrium, away from us. They were helped into a jeep that promptly drove away.

A ship? I wondered. What kind of ship? I walked back to the elevator with Tabith, and we were both shook up by the scene.

Tabitha quickly wiped her tears away. "They're going to New Vancouver and I'm staying here to join the Taskforce."

Tom jumped in, "Yes, they're going to help build the new world in their own way."

I frowned—how on earth were those two skeletons going to help build anything? They already had one foot in the grave, and wouldn't live long without their daughter around to help them.

Tom smiled at me "Don't you worry, we will take good care of them. From storytelling to gardening, everyone has their contribution to give."

Tabitha stepped onto the elevator and when I saw that it survived the extra weight I stepped on cautiously, with Nicole in front of me.

Tom gave a signal to the guard standing outside and then said to us, "Please stand back, and herds us all to the back wall. As we ascend I can see the elevator shaft between floors.

Slowly we started to rise. The elevator strained, and I wondered if we were too many people.

"Don't worry," Tom said looking down at me, "This has multiple redundancies built in. We're perfectly safe."

I didn't know about that, but I continued to hold my breath.

We float slowly and remarkably quietly past the third floor and I'm surprised to see that there are shelves and shelves of books in front of me. In fact, many more than were here when I used the library last.

We float past the fourth floor and the fifth, and the elevator stops.

Tom smiles and asks, "Please exit the elevator here and my father will come down to meet you when he is ready. Tabitha, please remain with me."

I gladly step off and feel immediately intrigued and delighted. The room is all white and lit up with natural sunlight from the many sun roofs and the double height ceiling. There are hundreds of books in display cases.

"Please feel free to look around. The sixth floor is devoted to history and contains many priceless books about the surrounding area—the West Coast."

"Wow, cool" Michael says, and he heads off with Nicole down an aisle to look at the displays.

A man comes behind me and offers me a pair of white gloves.

Tom continues, "Since I know you understand the value of these books, I have arranged with the librarian here to allow you to handle them if you desire."

The man smiles at me, but his face is difficult to read. It's not the warmest smile, but it's not fake either. I suddenly feel myself in the presence of a librarian and realise he's just possessive about his books.

Tom disappears and I give one last grim look at Tabitha, who smiles faintly. I watch as first Tom's head and then her's disappear and then their feet, as the elevator rises.

"Welcome, Miss Sims, may I show you around? Tom has asked me to help you today." The man says.

I wonder when exactly Tom did that because I hadn't seen them exchange a word, but I let it drop and said amiably, "Yes, that would be wonderful. What sort of special things do you have here in your collection?"

"Well," he began, "this floor contains four special collections devoted to the West Coast: late history, recent history, flora and fauna, First Nations history, general arts and culture.

I see a painting by Emily Carr on the wall—one of the forest—and I wonder how they got that.

"Is that an original?" I ask him.

He nods, "Emily Carr, Forest, one of her best, in my opinion."

I have to agree that it's stunning.

"Let me show you the First Nations section of the library."

He leads me to a room on the far end of the floor and we walk past rows and rows of books and display cases. Michael and Nike are quite far away from me, down a very long aisle with photos of the area.

When we enter, the man says, "This is the Aboriginal Cultures Room," and we walk into an enclosed space.

I suddenly feel a memory—a flash of something. A dream. I feel a deep sense of dejavue and have difficulty concentrating on what the man is saying. He's showing me display cases full of masks, books, and Indigenous relics.

I shake my head and look out the window. Just then, I see a man in the building across from me duck down. I look at the man to see if he'd seen what I'd seen. He was going on about something.

I looked back out the window and a few other people in the building across the way. One of them—a man—he stared at me. Then they turned and left.

The librarian saw that I wasn't paying attention and asked if I was alright.

I said, "Yes, I'm fine, I guess this has been a long journey. Do you think I can sit down somewhere?"

"Of course," the man said, and led me to a chair.

"Shall I get you a glass of water?"

"Yes, that would be great."

The librarian left and I sat there wondering who on earth those people were in that other building.