The pile of rubble at the entrance to the Public Library's main branch shifted as a hand emerged from the opening and grasped the lip of the pit. Then, a man pulled himself up -- dragging a sack behind him. The middle-aged man took a moment to brush the grime off his lab coat before plopping himself down to sort his books.

"Philosophy," Keith mumbled as he laid the tome reverently by his feet. "Applied Mathamatics," he placed that book next to the first. Picking up a large glossy volume his face beamed with enthusiasm. "Art of the Western World. Beautiful. Owwww!" Keith clutched the back of his head. Something sharp had just hit him.

"There he is!" a voice cried.

Keith turned to find a ragged band of survivors gathered at the base of the mound. Smoothing back his thinning hair Keith stood up. "So, you've finally come to the cradle of knowledge have you. It's about time."

The crowd stared at him with dull incomprehension. Keith sighed. "You've come to the library," he explained. "For the books."

"No," a Hispanic man with dark eyes said. "We've come to kick your ass! You're the nut who destroyed all the computers." The crowd behind the man shouted their agreement.

"Yes," Keith said with pride, "I did. And people thought the Y2K bug was bad."

"Why would you do that?" a woman demanded.

"To save you," Keith answered. "People weren't thinking any more. The computers were taking over." The crowd mumbled with uncertainty.

"How many of you can calculate the square root of 64?" Keith demanded. People frowned. "Need a computer?" he jeered. "When was the Magna Carta signed?" More annoyed looks. "Lost without your internet connection? Your six year-old asks you to tell her a story, which one do you tell her?" People refused to meet his stare. "I thought so. People have become fat, stupid, and lazy. Our machines made it so that we didn't need to think any more. Ten thousand years of development -- wasted because nobody has to think for himself. Well, I wasn't going to let the children of Plato, Lao Tzu, and Siddhartha become the Marching Morons."

"But what are we going to do?" pleaded a woman with badly combed hair.

"Do?" Keith echoed. "We are the descendants of the most inventive creatures that ever walked the face of the Earth. We will improve ourselves. We will return to books for knowledge. We will teach our children and share information -- not with text messages filled with happy faces -- but with drama, song, and dance. We will –"

Keith's poetic tirade was interrupted by the sound of gunfire. All heads turned to see a man dressed in blue jeans, work boots, and a flannel shirt holding an automatic rifle. Keith instinctively cringed at the sight of weaponry.

"Hi," the man said with a pleasant smile. He rested the butt of his rifle on his hip. "My name is Bob."

"H-Have you come to borrow a book?" Keith asked with trepidation.

The man shook his head. "Thanks, but I don't read much. No, I'm here to let everyone know that I'm setting up a republic on the upper west side. It's the Republic of Bob and I'm its king."

Keith raised a finger. "Excuse me but Republics don't have –" Bob shot him a stare that made him shut up.

"Like I was saying," Bob continued. "I've got my own country and I've got canned food, rifles, and beer for anyone who wants to become a citizen – so long as they're willing to follow the rules."

"What are the rules?" The Hispanic man asked.

"That the guy with the guns makes the rules," Bob said. People began to nod their heads as if that made sense.

"How do we know you have these supplies?" Keith demanded.

"Oh, I've been preparing for the end of the world most of my life," Bob said. "I figured terrorists, anarchists, or the Democrats would eventually do us in. But a computer virus will do. So, supplies for everyone if you agree to stay in line. And if we run out, I know of a survivalist group in Jersey that's big on bottled water but not so much on ammunition. If need be, I think we can convince them to share." He waved his gun meaningfully. The crowd cheered.

"Wait a minute! You can't do that!" Keith cried.

"Sure we can," Bob responded. "We're just following in the footsteps of our ancestors -- Attila, Caesar, and Alexander. We're returning to those things that made human beings so great."

Keith was stunned. "That's not what – "

But Bob wasn't done. "See doc, I agree with you. People have gotten fat, stupid, and lazy. But we didn't get where we are because of Plato. We didn't become top dog because were the smartest species. We did it because we were the meanest. When push comes to shove, people always fall back on the one thing they do better than anybody else – get even. Hell, a man messes with a bull and the bull stomps him. A bull messes with a man and that bull's whole herd is bar-b-que." Bob turned to the crowd. "Ok people, if you're coming, let's go." The crowd began moving in the direction Bob indicated.

"But what about the books?" Keith asked. "What about science, history, and art?"

Bob turned to face Keith. "Bring them. You're invited too, doc. Kiddies need an education now more than ever. Things won't be easy. But I believe we can rise to the challenge. I believe that every one of us: young, old, male, or female can accomplish great things -- and tough turnips to the poor bastard who gets in our way." Bob smiled and his perfect white teeth sparkled in the fading sunlight. "Yes, sir," he said with a nod, "humanity is on the move again."