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A Cautionary Tale
Tristan: My first attempt at go fiction. My intention is to make a serious point, but I might give up on that if it seems appropriate to do so. One new chapter whenever I feel like writing one. For your information: This story is set in New York City around the mid-to-late 1950s. Caitlin Wang is the daughter of an immigrant Chinese amateur go player and an American woman. I have made some space at the bottom of this page for readers to suggest improvements, such as tips on how to make the characters' dialogue more authentic. Also, forgive me for the inevitable cultural misunderstandings and biases. You will find that similarities with Hikaru No Go are only passing - particularly as I go back over the story to replace rip-offs with more original ideas as I think of them! This is the "Paul Simon Approach" to writing - i.e., you start off with somebody else's work, then you replace bits and pieces until what you're left with is something totally diferent and new. Please do not alter the main body of the story. mgoetze: Discussion moved to ACautionaryTaleDiscussion. PROLOGUE Jimenshita Satoru would have nightmares about his first day at work for the rest of his life. And not only at nights would he see the man's figure falling endlessly over a few short feet, but during the day he would expect to see it, too, whenever he looked up. The day had begun so proudly. His grandmother, his mother and his unemployed father had given him presents - a headband, a beautiful kimono, a fan, and, slightly incongruously, a digital watch - and had toasted him with sake. He, of course, had allowed himself only a single small cup. He had passed the tests and was now the family breadwinner. The day had gone so well. He enjoyed operating the controls of his subway train, and was thrilled to power it through the tunnels beneath Tokyo and to emerge into brilliantly lit stations, crowded beyond imagining with people. Then there was the camaraderie shared with his new colleagues. The company exhortation in the locker room at the beginning of the shift, the dirty jokes exchanged over hurried bento lunches, the subtle greetings between drivers and station staff. Yet, as his first day was drawing to a close, as he was carefully guiding the train into the penultimate station, he looked down ever so briefly to glance at his watch. A fraction of a moment later, he looked up again, and saw the man falling. CHAPTER ONE Another bleak October afternoon. There would be no Indian summer that year. A young girl was sitting on her bed, engrossed in a chess game that she was replaying from the 1948 World Championship. She sometimes shivered in the draught from the window, and occasionally lifted her eyes, dark and liquid, from the chess board to push away strand of deeply brown hair. Her mother knocked, unheard, on the door and stepped in. "Come on," she said, "It's time to get going. Put on your coat." "Sheesh, Ma!" moaned Caitlin, "Do we really have to go?" "Yes, Caitlin," replied her mother, "You do." "But I'm just getting to Bronstein's famous combination." "That can wait. This is important!" "No, this is important." declared the girl, stubbornly. "It can wait. Got it?" rasped her mother. "And it's so creepy. So weird. I hate it there," protested Caitlin, as her mother grasped her wrist. "Now you know there's nothing to be scared of," scolded her mother, "But I do know you just want to get back to your chess sets. Huh, a girl of your age shouldn't be frightened of something like that anyhow. It's a few prayers and a pinprick." "Then why don't you do it, Ma?" "Because," responded the woman, "That's why. Now make with your shoes and be quiet already." They arrived at the small temple off Chatham Square about ten minutes later. The woman nudged the reluctant girl, and her daughter performed the usual rituals while she waited. Having done these, Caitlin braced herself and stepped into the sanctuary, carrying a small bowl of Frankincense. She was greeted by the elderly priest, a small, sprightly man with a shaven head and stringy beard. He led her to the altar and showed her where to place the Frankincense offering. He grabbed her wrist as she was placing the bowl on the heater; she rolled her eyes and tutted when he indicated to her to use both hands. She then lit a taper and applied it to the incense. The priest bade her kneel and intoned some prayers to the altar, which was surrounded by candles and which bore a small black and white photograph of a rather haggard-looking Asian man. Caitlin was not expecting anything spiritual to happen. She had done this before, on several occasions, and nothing had happened. Yet this time, despite the aching boredom, she felt a certain unwelcome, but exciting unease. After they had prayed together - or, rather, after the old man had prayed and Caitlin had stifled several yawns - the priest rose and produced a small camphorwood chest. He opened the chest. It contained ten stones - five black and five white. It also contained a small silver knife, which had a groove running along the blade, which the priest removed. For Caitlin, this signalled the beginning of the worst part. The priest drew several short breaths and then his eyes rolled upwards, to show only the whites. He then grasped the girl and made an incision in her right arm, using the silver knife. She gasped. For a moment, she thought only of fleeing. She hated these stupid mumbo-jumbo rituals now and had only gone through them before for fear of her mother, but now, oh now she hated it all enough not to care about that. Yet, the moment passed, and she found herself compelled to stay. The priest allowed the girl's blood to trickle along the groove and onto the sandy floor between them, gradually forming the outline of archaic versions of Chinese characters - North, West, South, East, Sky and Earth. She began to feel faint, for the priest had cut somewhat more deeply than usual and had forgotten to apply a tourniquet, a legal rather than ceremonial requirement, before commencing the ritual. He took the stones and, his eyes remaining white and sightless, cast them in threes over the symbols. A black stone was left over. Several minutes passed, and Caitlin struggled to remain conscious, but she was still awake when the priest refocussed his eyes and spoke. "You will choose between two roads," he said solemnly. His voice sounded more resonant than Caitlin had ever heard it. "If you follow chess," he continued, "You will achieve glory and find destruction." "If you follow wei qi", he said, "You will achieve glory and bring destruction". At this point, the girl fainted altogether. When she awoke, she was lying in her own bed, her right arm tightly bandaged. She gradually became aware of an unfamiliar male voice. "Now, Mrs Wang," it said, "She will need to stay in bed for another two days. She has been in shock, and although she is in excellent health, it would be wise to take things gently." END OF CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO "What?" exclaimed Mrs Wang, "What did you say?" "I said, can I go to the wei qi parlour with Uncle Sam tonight?" "But tonight's chess night!" replied her mother. "I'm getting bored with chess." said Caitlin. "But you always hated it when I got out your father's wei qi board. You know I got rid of it because of you. What's with the sudden change of heart?" "I just want to try it, alright?" snapped Caitlin. "Hey!" hissed Mrs Wang, "You will not talk to me like that." "Sorry," whispered Caitlin. "Good," said her mother. "I will ring Uncle Sam and ask him to pick you up at about seven." Later that evening, Caitlin found herself sitting at a long table, the only girl in the dimly lit, smoky room. The gentleman across the table, Mr Pak, continued explaining the rules. "So, if you play there, it's got two eyes and you can't be killed. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mr Pak," replied Caitlin, "But what if I play there?" "No, because..." replied Mr Pak. But at that point Mr Pak noticed something and started to study the board more intently. "Can't Black take White's surrounding stones?" asked Caitlin. "Erm, erm," replied the elderly gentleman, "Well, I think so, just let me put some stones down and check." A few of the other players had overheard the conversation and were looking on. One of them grabbed a stone and put it down. "What would you do if White did that then?" asked Mr Chang. "But then I'd put one here," replied Caitlin, excitedly. "Did you really never play before?" queried Mr Pak. "Yeah, surely your father must've..." asked another man, a tall, balding person in his late 60s. "Don't talk about my father!" snapped Caitlin. The room became silent. The balding man eyed the girl, the corners of his mouth quivering. The silence was broken at length by the patron, Huang Zi. "Apologise to Mr Zheng at once!" ordered Huang Zi. "I'm sorry," murmured Caitlin. The elderly man was unimpressed. "I said, apologise!" commanded Huang Zi. "I am truly sorry," whispered Caitlin, "Please forgive me." "Mr Wang," said Huang Zi, "I think you should take her home now. It's getting late and she has ruffled enough feathers for one evening. But I will be in touch with your sister-in-law before you get her home." "Please, don't do that," pleaded Sam Wang, stepping up to Huang Zi so that he could whisper in his ear. "Marlene will go nuts if she hears about this." "That's not why I want to talk to her," replied Huang Zi, enigmatically. END OF CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE Marlene Wang was standing by the small table in her hallway, talking into her antiquated telephone. "No, I told you already," said Mrs Wang, "She has never played the game before. Anyway, what did you say she did? Saw a move some old man missed? So what's so remarkable about that? She's very clever and plays chess a lot." "Yes," said Huang Zi, "You're probably right. Old Mr Pak isn't very bright and I could se he didn't set up the position properly. But, look, could you do one thing for me?" "Go on," responded Mrs Wang. "Bring her down to my class at the China School next Thusday morning. I want to do some little tests." "What kinda tests?" "Look, Mrs Wang," explained Huang Zi, "I'm pretty good at spotting talent...there are certain things to look for, even if a child doesn't know the rules of the game." At that moment, Sam arrived with Caitlin. Mrs Wang covered up the mouthpiece and told Sam to pour himself some coffee, while the girl removed her shoes. She then hurried to finish her conversation with the wei qi parlour proprietor. "Okay, I'll do that," agreed Mrs Wang, "It's late. I'll see you Thursday." The next few days passed uneasily. Marlene Wang was worried on the one hand because Caitlin stopped bringing chess books hom fom the library, but on the other she was quite pleased not to have to find her playing with the oddballs over at Washington Square. She was relieved, too, that her girl had ceased talking interminably about Botvinnik and Bronstein, Smyslov and Petrosian and a host of other obscure Russians, but nurtured a host of other, more nagging worries. Was this new interest in wei qi just a fad? But what if she started to hang around with the fanatics who had ruined her father? What if she turned out to be like her father? Persuading Caitlin to accompany her to the China School did not prove easy, either. "I'm an American! I don't want to go to no ghetto Chinese school!" shouted Caitlin. "I already explained three times now that I'm not taking you there to enrol," said Mrs Wang. "Huh! You told me the same thing about the temples and the Aunties," spat Caitlin, "Just a visit, you say. Next thing I know and I'm spinning prayer wheels and burning incense like they're going out of style. What is it with you? I'm sick of all this dumb stuff." "You mind your mouth!" retorted her mother, gripping her wrists, "You remember what happened last time you showed such disrespect?" Caitlin paused and felt a twinge of pain as she remembered. Wisely, she fell silent and listened to her mother. "You're about an inch away," warned her mother. "Now, you're coming with me to meet Mr Huang. And, if you would just let me explain just once more if you'll only listen, he wants to play wei qi with you." "Anyway, Caitlin," her mother continued, "I just don't understand you. One minute you hate all things Chinese, and the next you ask me to take you to a wei qi parlour. Then you complain when I want to take you to play wei qi at the China School." "I want to play wei qi," said Caitlin, petulantly. "I don't want to go to a Chinese School." "As I've told you, a million times already, I'm not taking you there to enrol." Caitlin hated the place. She hated the gaudy red- and green-painted gates, the banners, the signs written in Chinese. She barely managed to hide her disgust when Mr Huang poured her a cup of a green tea after she had been shown into his office. Her expression brightened only when Mr Huang took out a large go board and produced a pair of baskets, each containing glass stones. "Where do you think the best spot is?" he asked. She looked at him quizzically. "If you had only one move," he said, "Where would you put it?" She took a white stone from the basket nearest Mr Huang. He winced a little, but let her rudeness pass. He noticed that she held the stone correctly, gracefully even. Caitlin did not hesitate, but placed the stone firmly onto the central point - tianyuan - the source of heaven. "Why did you do that?" asked Huang Zi. "Who controls the centre," she replied, "Controls the whole." "Did you learn that from playing chess?" "No, I knew that before I learned chess." "And what if I started off here?" asked Huang Zi, placing a stone in one of the corners. "I noticed those old men doing that," replied Caitlin, "But what do they know?" Huang Zi coughed, holding back his annoyance. Marlene Wang looked sharply at her daughter. "What's the point of this game?" asked Huang Zi, "Do you know that?" "To control," responded Caitlin, instantly. "No," answered Huang Zi, "The idea is to take territory." "But the one who has control," returned Caitlin, without hesitating, "Will take it in the end." Huang Zi's face turned purple and Marlene Wang angrily advanced on her daughter. But, an instant later, Huang Zi began laughing. His body shook with laughter. He howled and stamped on the floor. Mother and daughter stared at him in amazement. Eventually, he regained his composure. "Miss Wang," he said, "Please leave the room." END OF CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR Huang Zi became Caitlin's go teacher. The clientele in his go parlour quickly learned to fear and respect the gangly half-Chinese girl with the beautiful brown, almost black, hair and pale skin. They feared her because she was brash, a bad loser and highly emotional, scarcely able to hide her glee at opponents' mistakes and prone to tears when things went against her. They feared her also because she seemed to gain a stone in strength with every game. Huang Zi tried hard to smooth out her rough edges, even banning her from the club for a week after she had humiliated old Mr Pak in her first nine-stone game as White. Yet, there was little he could do. Sam Wang had warned him about Marlene's alcoholism and unstable temperament. Any mention of misbehaviour might result in a beating. Nor could they think of a way to remove Caitlin from Marlene's care. She was all that Marlene had left of her husband. Heaven only knew what she would do if Caitlin were taken away. Nevertheless, some progress was achieved over the first year. Huang Zi had arranged for Caitlin to attend the China School, which he part-owned, for one day a week. Caitlin was horrified at the idea, but Huang Zi had threatened to cease teaching her go if she decided not to go along with it. The idea was for Caitlin to improve her Mandarin and to become more appreciative of her ethnic background; she had never been able to understand why her White mother would sometimes insist on talking to her in Mandarin, and she hated it whenever her mother dragged her along to her obscure Confucian temple. At least, thought Huang Zi, Caitlin might appreciate a more authentic cultural experience. Not that Caitlin's progress was easy. The other children teased her at first because of her hair, and because she was tall and pale. But, gradually, Caitlin earned respect. She was not only tough when playing adults at wei qi, but she was well able to look after herself, one day sending one of the toughest boys home in tears after he had foolishly picked a fight with her. Her Mandarin improved quickly, too, in spite of distaste for it. Occasionally, Huang Zi would take Caitlin to other go clubs around New York. She particularly enjoyed trips out to Flushing, which was just beginning to become a popular location for Korean and Chinese immigrants. Although she lost most of her games, she always returned from Mr Seong's baduk hall on 49th street with her head buzzing with ideas. The players there were so tough, so determined, so ruthless. She so much wanted to be like them. By November, Caitlin had been playing for just over a year and had reached the rank of 1st dan in Huang Zi's wei qi parlour. She still had little chance when playing on even with the Koreans out in Flushing, but she was reducing her handicaps and growing in skill with each game she played. Another interesting factor was that she was becoming much better at controlling her feelings. You could see that she was angry when she lost, but somehow she found herself able to offer the victor an icy smile. Most of the men found it cute for an eleven-year-old girl to smile like this, but they did not realise that she was planning to belittle each of them as soon as she became strong enough -- she never forgot and certainly never forgave a defeat. It was snowing outside, but Caitlin was sitting by a parafin heater in the Seong Baduk Hall, engrossed in a romance novel. She found such literature corny, but somehow it helped her to express new feelings that were stirring within her. It was quiet, save for the occasional moans or laughs of a pair of elderly gentleman who played speed go in one corner, gambling a dollar a game. She took no interest in them. Even though they were stronger than her in a manner of speaking, she could see that they played a poor class of go, and she didn't want to waste her time on it. Huang Zi returned, carrying a brown paper bag and accompanied by a smartly dressed Asian man. They removed their coats and brushed snow from them. "Here, Caitlin," said Huang Zi, handing Caitlin the bag, "I got you a burger and fries. Sheesh, when are you gonna start eating real food?" "Thanks," said Caitlin, scarcely looking up from her book. "Now," said Huang Zi, "Allow me to introduce you to Mr Yamada. He is visiting from Japan." "Hello," murmured Caitlin, in a matter-of-fact voice. "Caitlin!" barked Huang Zi, "Be polite! Mr Yamada is a very important man." Caitlin got up and put down her book, a little more forcefully than necessary. Cringing inside, she bowed deeply, and called to mind the greeting Huang Zi had taught her. "Yamada-san, hajimemashite. Dozo yorishiku." Yamada responded in English, "Hello Miss Wang, may I have a game with you. Mr Huang was telling me how skilful you are." Caitlin nodded and sat down at one of the go boards. Mr Yamada sat down opposite her. She reached for the white stones. Huang Zi was horrified and went over to grasp the bowl, but Mr Yamada merely smiled and spoke gently. "You may certainly have the white stones, Miss Wang," he said, "But allow me to pass on my first move." Caitlin turned pink, and offered the bowl of white stones to Mr Yamada, but he laughed and refused it. She grasped a stone and slapped it hard into the top right corner. Mr Yamada passed again, and again, until five white stones were in place. He then began to play. Yamada played loose, fluid moves, setting up light positions throughout the board. Caitlin was amazed that he did not attack with dogged persistence like the Koreans, indeed he even allowed her to capture a group of five stones in one of the early exchanges. At first, she thought that her opponent was soft, and would be an easy kill, but even as she was removing his stones from the board she blushed and hesitated, as she saw how strong his shape had become, how her capturing stones were themselves tightly confined, no longer to play any meaningful part in the game. Yamada noticed her reaction and smiled inwardly. She had made one of the commonest mistakes, for sure, but he was impressed that she had realised it so quickly. Caitlin began to think hard. Every impulse told her to play close to Yamada's strong group, to take away the territory that he threatened to make. She picked up a stone and went to place it, but stopped herself; she saw that if she played where she had wanted to, then he would make a pincer. For sure, her group would survive, and the strong enemy group would be neutralised, but what about her corner? That would become much weaker - Yamada might even be able to kill it. Not only that, but she also asked herself, what about the invading group itself? What would she get for it other than a miserable, grovelling life? Maybe Mr Kim, the 2 gup and one of the strongest players in the Baduk hall, would play like this -- indeed she had seen him do it -- and get away with it -- she had seen him do that, too -- but it simply didn't feel right. Better skill doesn't make one a better player than the opponent, not always. Some people, like old Mr Cho, were hopelessly lacking in skill, at least compared with their peers, and yet somehow managed to win their share of games through better overall judgement. Everybody knew, she pondered, how Mr Cho would avoid fights and play tightly, but do so in such a way that his strategic gains would outweigh his tactical losses. So, in the end, she decided she would try and play as she thought Mr Cho would. The minutes ticked by, and Yamada studied his opponent carefully. She was so pretty, so delicate; and yet there was something about the way she looked at the board, intently evaluating possibilities, that bespoke cruel determination. He had rarely seen that particular look, that trance-like concentration, except in the very finest players in Japan. Caitlin wracked her memory, thinking back over games she had seen and played with Mr Cho, trying to find a comparable situation. Eventually, she opted on a tight small knight's enclosure from her star point, facing toward her opponent's strong group. Sure, Huang Zi and others had told her that this move was frowned upon as a rule,[1] but this seemed the only way to play, the only way to continue developing her position while thwarting her opponent's expansion in that direction. Huang Zi was watching, and shook his head very slightly, but Yamada sank into thought. This was the best move, but not at all easy to find under the circumstances. Two hours passed unnoticed. A small crowd of players arrived unnoticed, too. Eventually, the game concluded, after several nerve-jangling ko fights had been played out. Caitlin had lost by three points. She turned white and ran out of the room, sobbing, even as Mr Yamada had begun returning stones to the bowls, and even as the onlookers were clapping their hands in admiration for such a fiercely contested game. Huang Zi turned after Caitlin, "Hey, Caitlin Wang, come back this instant, and thank Mr Yamada for the game!" Yamada got up and caught up with Huang Zi. "Mr Huang", said Yamada, "I am not offended. You cannot know what she put into this game. But I tell you, I have not seen talent like this in all the forty three years that I have been playing go." END OF CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE They eventually found Caitlin lying semi-conscious in one the back streets. She had sat down weeping in the snow, oblivious to the cold and filth. Huang Zi took off his coat and wrapped her in it, and drove her back to Manhattan Chinatown, to her mother's apartment. Caitlin suffered miserably from a chill for another ten days. Her mother alternated between anger and concern, bringing the girl soup one moment and scolding her the next for being so foolish. Still, she recovered, and returned to her routine of reading the old go magazines Huang Zi had given her, devouring trashy romances, and attending school. While Caitlin was recovering, Mr Yamada and Huang Zi met for dinner, at a smart place near Yamada's Brooklyn hotel. "How is she?" asked Yamada. "The doctor says she will be fit for school again by Monday," replied Huang Zi. "I tell you again," said Yamada, "I have never seen a child quite like her." "I remember Kuwabara when he was a child," continued Yamada, as he poured a drink for Huang Zi, "He used to go off wandering when he had lost, but never in such weather." "I've got to teach her some manners," lamented Huang Zi. "Hah-hah," laughed Yamada, "That will come. But she'll never be able to mean it. She's too much of a killer, that one." "Indeed," said Huang Zi. They continued talking for a while, reminiscing about young players they had known in the past, until they reached a late stage in the meal. They decided to bring their discussion to the point. "Now," said Yamada, "May I make a proposal?" "Do please," responded Huang Zi. "A child of such talent might do well if she spent some time studying in one of our go schools in Japan," said Yamada. "Indeed," said Huang Zi, "The go world in Japan is flourishing. I have noticed even some Chinese names doing well of late." "Hah-hah," laughed Yamada, "Yes, young Rin will go far, I may predict." "But, to do so well," continued Yamada, "It is naturally necessary that a child be recommended and sponsored." Huang Zi nodded his head. "To that end, Mr Huang," said Yamada, "I need no further convincing. I would gladly provide a letter of recommendation to Mr Takeshi himself..." "Takeshi Maruhito? Takeshi himself!" coughed Huang Zi, genuinely surpised. "Yes, the go school of Takeshi Maruhito Meijin. Already the Number One go dojo in Japan." "Do you really believe in her talent that much? From just one game?" exclaimed Huang Zi, forgetting himself in his surprise. "Indeed I do," replied Yamada, equally directly, but cordially. "There would of course be minor practical matters to arrange," continued Yamada, "But Mrs Takeshi will see to her comfort, I am certain." Huang Zi frowned. "Mr Yamada," said Huang Zi, "On your recommendations, I would gladly take any practical matter in hand. However, I can forsee a serious problem." The problem, of course, was Marlene Wang. Huang Zi and Yamada went to see her while Caitlin was at school. Marlene was furious. "Take her to Japan?" cried Marlene, "I don't want her setting foot there. Don't you know what the Japanese did to Marlene's grandfather? Don't you?" "I know," replied Huang Zi, "But time moves on." "Not for Wang Qin!" screamed Marlene, "Not for his friends, not for his countrymen." Marlene rounded on Yamada. "And you!" she cried, "What about you? Who did you slaughter?" "Madam," replied Yamada, with dignity, "I killed nobody. I served my emperor and my country, but I was wounded and discharged before I could even aim my rifle." "That doesn't change anything!" raged Marlene. "Maybe it does not," said Huang Zi, "But what about Caitlin? what about her life? God knows how I'd like to change the past, but how can we not allow Caitlin the best chance in her future?" Marlene stared at Huang Zi, still shaking with anger. "Marlene," he said gently, "Japan has changed. They have suffered as well. They have to face the future, too. We all have to begin healing sometime. Must Caitlin bear her grandfather's wounds?" AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am uncomfortable with this section. I cannot see how I can avoid mentioning the War given the time frame of my story, but I don't want to offend anybody. How can I keep this even-handed and fair without losing dramatic effect? "And what about me?" asked Marlene, "I do not want to go to Japan. Yet you're asking me to send my only daughter there." "There are many Americans and Chinese in Japan, too," said Yamada. "Yes, Marlene," said Huang Zi, "It wouldn't be so very different to living here." END OF CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX It took many months to make arrangements for Marlene and Caitlin Wang to leave the United States. Marlene changed her mind frequently, and re-changed it equally often. Eventually, though, Marlene agreed to Huang Zi and Yamada's plans, on condition that Caitlin lived with her, rather than at Takeshi Meijin's house. Caitlin herself was horrified at the prospect of the leaving the United States. She was still less than delighted with her American mother's obsession with Chinese traditions, and with her weekly sessions at the China School. The thought of learning another language, learning yet more customs, and eating still more weird food was almost too much to face. However, Huang Zi was able to persuade her. The prospect of earning large amounts of money was not yet especially tempting, but when Huang Zi mentioned the kinds of players Caitlin would be able to play with every day the girl's imagination began to fly. TO BE CONTINUED TO BE CONTINUED [1] To be sure, the small knight's enclosure from the star point is no longer novel, its having been popularised by Kobayashi Koichi, but this was the late 1950s, and IIRC this move was considered a slightly suboptimal way of developing a star point. This is a copy of the living page "A Cautionary Tale" at Sensei's Library. ![]() |