In the short story 'The Library of Babel' Jorge Luis Borges imagines an infinite library composed of hexagonal galleries. The walls of these galleries are taken up with long book shelves. On one side of each gallery there is a corridor leading to an identical gallery. On either side of the corridor there is a latrine, a bed and also a sprial staircase
The inhabitants of the library spend their entire lives searching the shelves looking for a book that will explain the meaning of their existence or the purpose of the library. The young men embark on long quests. The old men are content to ramble around knowing that their own searches have been futile. When they die their bodies are thrown over the galleries, where they apparently fall forever.
At the end of the story the narrator expresses a fear that epidemics, inquisitions, skirmishes and the increasing suicide rate are diminishing the population to the point where it will not recover.
This dwindling population of scholars reminds me a bit of the teabag thread, which I think is entering its twilight years.
