Excerpt: All the Time in the World

Seraph looked out at the majestic spires, golden in the sunlight. Shuttles flitted between them like flies, ugly spots on what should have been an awe-inspiring landscape. Not that Seraph was one to appreciate the scene. He was just bored.
He was in the Freynon Archives, on the planet Freynon Prime. They were the largest in the world, not to mention very well protected and very inaccessible to the general public. However, this meant that those inside assumed that everyone inside was meant to be there. Seraph had donned a uniform, a sparkling clean white coat, hair tucked up inside a cap, gloves and facemask on. It was like he was about to perform surgery.
An airtight door hissed open behind him and Seraph turned around. Another man, heavily wrinkled around the eyes, gestured for Seraph to enter. “Something has come up, although the entire search will not be complete until tomorrow evening.” Seraph’s mask twitched to show he was smiling. The door closed behind him. A moment passed before the other door opened.
Inside was a large expanse of computer servers. It was cold, maybe a degree above freezing, and incredibly sterile. It had to be, such a sensitive method of storing data could easily become corrupted.
“It is from an old religious text, probably nothing more than an old legend,” the man explained as they briskly strode towards whichever server contained the data. Each had its own display screen, so that the information would never have to be moved.
“I’m sure my client will be happy for any information available, regardless of the source,” Seraph replied. The man stopped to one side a screen.
“Take a look.” Seraph stepped up to the screen and started reading the passage. “Daemons...” he mused out loud. “Like the creatures that have recently attacked.”
“Hmm, yes. Perhaps we should have another look at our client, check that his interests are purely academic.”
“Well, who wouldn’t want to know more about these daemons? Their arrival was definitely... extraordinary.” Seraph stopped talking, continuing to read. “I assume this is it: ‘and from the gates of hell the daemons came forth, and the army of hell met armies of men. On the precipice of hell, Saint... Sagrar? Received the gift of a holy weapon. This holy weapon raised the spirits of the deceased to fight once more, becoming the weapon, a sword of spirits of the dead...”
“Does your client believe that this artefact exists?” The man asked, closing the file on the touch-screen monitor.
“He’s certain of it.” Seraph placed a rubbery hand on either side of the librarian’s head. Twisted it, spine cracking above the hum of the machines. Seraph’s mask twitched as he disappeared.