I entered a library. A perfect one. It was dark and had a church-like atmosphere, as if it was some chapel used by historical nobility. All the books were old and dusty.
There was this guy named Ishmael there. He asked me if I had time to discover some of the secrets of the sea, and when I said I wasn't sure, he sat me down and told me he'd tell me everything he'd ever found, because I honestly didn't want to miss this.
He opened a leather-bound folder filled with yellow pages. Maps, diagrams, wax seals and inky sketches.
And yeah, he told me everything I'd ever need to know about whales.
And a few stories about this crazy adventure he went on when he was young. But mostly about whales. Because, obviously, whales are far more interesting than an insane ship's captain who bears a terrible grudge against a pale, haunting sea spectre who is rumoured to be more than just a fish.
Why would you want to know what happened to Captain Ahab and his crew, when you can learn about how whale oil is made? Sheesh. Oh, you'd like to hear what circumstances led to the Peaquod sinking forever beneath the waves now?
"You can't even spare a minute to hear me rant about how scary the colour white is? I shall teach you patience," Ishmael says. "Priorities, people."
And now, if I ever feel like going back in time to a whaling vessel, I will know exactly what to do. Well, kind of. I never did get how that whole harpooning deal went, despite Ishmael's up-in-your-face descriptions and Shakespearean soliloquies.
I guess I'll just know to listen to the guy who got a coffee shop named after him, instead of chasing the creature who chomped off my limbs.