I started my life in a large, bright, noisy, room, and was quickly packed into a box and shipped with 11 books I didn’t know. It was very hot and stuffy in my box, but I was okay. We got bounced around, and, after a while, we arrived.

The first thing that told me that we were there was the voices. The first voices I had ever heard. There were a lot of them, both men and women. They were interested in me! My box was carted into a room and we were “thunked” down on to the floor.

I don’t know how long we stayed there, but, at some point, we were opened. Two women, one older, one younger, were talking about ME!

“Ooh, Marie, are these the new books? They look very interesting,” the younger woman was saying. “I’ll get them numbered, chipped, and added?”

“Yeah. Here.” Hands picked us up and deposited us on a metal shelf. A quick pat and we were moving! The voice kept talking.

“Alright. My name is Maggie, and I’m a Junior Librarian, here at the local public library. Now, I’m going to have to open you up and write in you, but it shouldn’t hurt. If it does, just let me know,” Maggie said, pushing us forward. “I also have to stick some stickers on you, so we know where you are. That won’t hurt a bit.” Maggie kept up a string of soothing words as we rode over.

“Okay, first things first, I need to stick this sticker on your lower right corner. I’m going to try to avoid anything on your cover.” With deft yet gentle hands, she attached a long and thin sticker to each of us.

“Okay, now I need to open you up and write in you. Then, I’ll stick an ID sticker to your upper left cover. I need to write your ID number in you so that, if you lose your dust jacket, we’ll know which one you are! It shouldn’t hurt a bit, but it might tickle, so I’ll need you to hold very still.” With those same deft and gentle hands, she wrote a long number on a page (it tickled!), and then closed us up and placed the sticker on our “dust jackets.” We spoke with each other, and decided that our “dust jackets” must be the crinkly plastic over our paper wrappers. One of my sisters said that she remembered having the plastic taped on!

After she finished writing, she flipped us sideways and rolled the cart over to a desk. We felt funny, lying in that position.

“I know... that can’t feel good, but I need to be able to tell who I've “chipped” and who I haven’t.” We excitedly murmured trying to figure out what “chipped” meant.

“Okay, what I’m going to do is open you back up, place this RFID chip on your back cover – don’t worry, it’s just a big sticker – and scan you through this machine. It shouldn’t hurt a bit. There will be a bright red light, so close your eyes when I pick you up. There will also be a loud “BEEP” when I scan you. When I'm done, I’ll put you back right-side-up. You’ll be chipped and ready to go. Everybody ready?”

With that, she picked us up one-by-one, opened us up, stuck a large, thick sticker on the inside of our back cover, and scanned us through the machine. I don’t know about the bright red light, but there was the loud “BEEP” before she put us down. Once we were finished, she rolled us back, and spoke to the other woman.

“Marie, they’re in. Chipped, added, and ready.” With one last pat, Maggie left us on the metal shelf.

The next morning, she was back! She was speaking to one of the other librarians. “A lot of patron hold requests to pull today, Liz?” she asked.

“Yeah, more than 50.” Liz sounded nice.

“Wow, More than 50 requests. Tuesdays are big days.” Muttering to herself, Maggie picked me up, and gently “thunked” me onto a rolling cart.

She rolled the cart around the large, open, room, and collected other books as she went. I talked to some of the other books. One thick and heavy book was grumbling that she had woken him up from his nap. Another was muttering “not the courier, not the courier, not the courier” for our entire trip. Yet more were excited to be going on an adventure. A helpful book told me that we had been requested and that we would get checked out and that we would get to meet more people and books. She whispered that she always liked meeting patrons.

One grouchy book complained that he always got treated badly, and that he didn't like getting bounced around. A well-read children’s book told him to shush, adding, “hey, I’m likely to get slobbered on by the family dog tonight; you novels never have that.” A cookbook with stained pages muttered “if only,” but otherwise kept to himself. After being dragged around for a while, we were back at the desk, and she told us that she needed to scan us. We would BEEP, and then she would sort us into piles of where we would go. “If you stay here, you’ll get a slip with the name of the patron, that’s who requested you, asked for you, on it. If you go to another library, I’ll put you into a pile to go for a ride on the Courier.”

I didn’t get a slip, so I was put onto a pile with a lot of other books, and then dumped into a blue crate with still more books, as we would get to visit another library today. As we were being moved and loaded into a van, Maggie’s voice said, “Hey, courier’s here.” The ride in the van was hot and stuffy, but soon, we were unloaded at another library. A woman’s voice drawled “Mike, Courier’s here.” Mike helped stack us up and roll us in.

“How many boxes in the courier to day, Jeff?” Mike asked, and got, “9. Not bad, huh?” in reply. Mike deposited us in front of yet another desk, where he ran us over yet another scanner that BEEPed at us. He sorted us into piles, and I got a slip. I asked what was going on, and got an excited “Hold request!” from a children’s book. A battered paper-back growled at the children’s book, who pouted. After all of the crates were BEEPed, Mike rolled us out. I was plunked on a set of metal shelves, squished in between other books. After a while, a family came and picked me up. I was slapped on to a plastic tray, where a woman asked to see a library card to check me out. The small piece of plastic was BEEPEed, and then I was BEEPed again, and carried outside.

“Is this the new book, Mommy?” a young girl asked, bouncing up and down.

“Yes, Jeanie, I requested it last night for you. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a woman said. “Here, if you are careful, you can hold it until we get home.” I was handed to her, and she stared at me with wide-eyes the whole way there.

“Mommy! Mommy! Can we read the new book now?” the little girl asked, as soon as we were inside.

“Not now, Jeanie,” her mother said, taking me and putting me on a high shelf. “After dinner and your bath, before bed, I’ll read the book to you.”

After a while, I was picked up by the mother, and carried upstairs. There, Jeanie was sitting, and she clapped her hands when her mother showed me to her. They settled on a chair together, and after much “ooh”ing and “aah”ing, I was opened and they began reading.

This happened for many nights in a row: at the end of the day, after dinner and bath, the mother would pick me up, and read me to Jeanie. Her mother had a great voice for reading, doing voices and other sounds while reading. Jeanie giggled a lot while reading me. Then, I heard the mother say, “I have to return this book to the library tomorrow, Jeanie, so this is the last night with the this book.”

“Mommy! I love this book!”

“I know, sweetie.” Jeanie looked like she was going to cry. “I’ll request it again. But, until then, there are always more books at the library.”

The next morning, Jeanie kissed me goodbye as her mother dropped me off on their way somewhere. I was dropped through a metal slot, and bounced into a box full of books.