:: bookmat escaping from the smothering heat of the machine room, he pushes open the glass door into the cool of the stacks. intending to log on to one of the public terminals, he is disappointed to find that they are already loaded up with people checking sports scores and flight arrivals of teams and airplanes in cities a continent away from southern california. as he is not in the mood for returning to the washroom, which is thick with the noise of the neighborhood gossip, he moves instead to the fiction section. here he can at least browse alphabetically, without the worry of people seeing that he doesn't have any intent or goal for a piece of reading material. he turns around from the 'v's, as he has already read everything that vidal, verne, and vonnegut have churned out, and he finds himself facing the 'm's. he looks to see if there is anything by marquez that he hasn't seen, but there is nothing. instead, he finds himself inexplicably taking a copy of texas by michner from the shelf and flipping the pages until finding the word 'alamo'. he stands and reads of the brutal battle as he keeps notice of the slender young woman who is placing returned books to the shelves. he fears that she will assume that he is checking her out, so he takes the book to a row of chairs on the edge of the platform that overlooks the washers. he continues to read a couple of pages, check the progress of the machines, check on the girl stacking books, and reads a few more pages. by the time his 75 cents is used up, he is so involved with the plight of crockett and santa ana, that he throws the book into his basket of clothes to finish at home.

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