[ WP ] The history of the world is literally written by someone named Victor .

He'd finally done it. It took years of research and tens of thousands of dollars in equipment, but finally he'd done what every archeologist dreamed of. He, Dr. Jonathan Kantor, had found the vault beneath the Library of Alexandria. Most people thought the entire Library burned, its knowledge forever lost in time, but rumor spoke of a hidden repository of its greatest works hidden deep beneath the sands, and he'd found it. With a final shove he pushed the stone block that covered the entrance aside, and rushed into the dimly lit corridor behind it. 
 
 He ran along, the sound of his dusty boots on the sandstone floor echoing around him, until the hallway abruptly stopped, and before him sat a short, portly man behind a fine wooden desk, his right hand furiously scrawling away at a leather-bound journal. The man pushed his glasses up against his face and turned up to face him. 
 
 `` Yes?'' he asked, seemly unsurprised by the sudden interruption. `` Can I help you?'' 
 
 John stared back with a blank expression, confounded by this man ’ s very existence. With a shake of his head he tried to regain his composure and stammered, “ Uh, yes… maybe? I ’ m looking for a vault. ” 
 
 “ Well you ’ ve definitely come to the right place for that, ” the man replied. With a sweeping of his hands he displayed the bookcases which sat behind him and grandiosely announced, “ Welcome to the Vault of Alexandria. ” 
 
 John blinked. He should ’ ve felt more elated over his grand discovery, but this wasn ’ t anything like he expected at all. “ Who are you? ” he asked, still fazed. “ How did you beat me here? ” 
 
 The man laughed. “ My name is Victor. This is my place of residence. ” 
 
 “ You live here? ” 
 
 “ Yes, ” Victor nodded. “ I am the scribe of the Library, and as such it is my duty to record the happenings of the world, just as my father did, and his father before that. ” 
 
 John clenched his hand in a fist and set it against his mouth. “ I don ’ t understand, ” he said. “ You record history? ” 
 Victor nodded again. “ Each of the books behind me holds the actions of a generation of humanity. My family has written each and every one of them, since the great Alexander requested it of my ancestor. ” 
 
 “ But why? There are hundreds of people writing history books out there. Why do you record the same history for nobody? ” John asked. 
 
 With a shake of his head, Victor smiled and said, “ History is written by the Victors, they say, and so as Victor LXXIX of Alexandria, I must continue the work of my family. ” 
 
 “ Do anyone ever read them, though? ” John asked. “ The histories, that is. Who are they kept for? ” 
 
 “ I read them, of course, ” Victor explained. “ Occasionally I find myself forgetting some of the past, and I would n't want to find myself repeating it. ” 
 
 ^First ^one ^of ^these, ^hopefully ^it ^does n't ^suck! 
 

