You have been judged and sent to the Zoroastrian Hell. You stand on a 12-foot corridor bordering an infinite 100-foot chasm. On every floor are millions of books containing all possible permutations of letters.
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Millions of condemned souls wander the endless corridors. To preserve the realm, souls are admitted in solemn order as vacancies arise.
"The food kiosk will provide whatever you would like to eat. Just ask for it."
"You lie down on the firm mattress and pull up the clean white sheet. In the quiet of the quarters, a deep, restorative sleep overtakes you."
"...that inevitable moment through which no one in Hell has ever been able to stay awake, that strange hour when books are returned, the dead revived, and all wounds healed."
"The fall ends in an instant of sound and fury. In the Great Library, no death is permanent; the cold silence of non-existence holds you gently until the six o'clock hour restores your flesh and bone."
"A lamb shank is just a knife waiting for impatience."
"Lying broken and immobile upon the cold concrete, you watch the fluorescent tubes hum in the stillness. Here, pain is not an end, but merely an endurance test against the infinite hours until the dawn slumber arrives to knit bone and sinew back together."
Deflected off brownish-red pipe railing on Floor 0 at 120 mph. Falling unconscious through the abyss...
"Deflected off the red railings, your senseless body tumbles through miles of empty air. In the dark abyss of Babel, the night carries you downward until the dawn slumber catches you in mid-flight."