Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Haruki Murakami

She was probably biting her lip.
    "You want me to look up what about unicorns?"
    "Everything," I said.
    "Please, it's four-fifteen. The library gets very busy around closing time. Why don't you come around first thing tomorrow morning? Then you could look up all about unicorns or tricorns or whatever you like."
    "This can't wait. I'm afraid it's exceedingly urgent."
    "Oh, really?" she said. "How urgent?"
    "It's a matter of evolution," I said.
    " E-vo-lu-ti-on ?" She seemed to be caught off guard. "By evolution, you wouldn't be referring to the evolving-over-mil-lions-of-years kind of evolution, would you? Excuse me if I misunderstand, but why then do you need things so quickly? What's one more day?"
    "There's evolution that takes millions of years and there's evolution that only takes three hours. I can't explain over the phone. But I want you to believe me, this is dead urgent.
    This will affect the next step in human evolution."
    "Like in 2001: A Space Odyssey ?"
    "Exactly," I said. I'd watched it countless times on video.
    She didn't say anything.
    "Can't decide if I'm some kind of a maniac or a harmless nut?" I took a shot.
    "You got it," she said.
    "I don't know how I'm going to convince you, but I'm really not crazy. A little narrow-minded or stubborn maybe, but crazy I'm not."
    "Hmph," was all she said to that. "Well, you talk normal enough. And you didn't seem too weird. You even bought me ice cream. All right, at six-thirty, meet me at the cafe across from the library. I'll bring you the books. Fair enough?"
    "Unfortunately, it's not so simple. I, uh, can't go into details, but I can't leave my place unattended just now. Sorry, but—"
    "You mean…" she trailed off. I could her hear drumming her front teeth with her nails.
    "Let me get this straight. You want me—to bring the books—to your doorstep? You must be crazy."
    "That's the general idea," I said sheepishly. "Though, of course, I'm not demanding. I'm requesting."
    "You're requesting an awful lot."
    "I know, I know," I said. "But you wouldn't believe what's been going on."
    Another lengthy silence.
    "I've worked in this library for five years now and never have I come across any borrower as impudent as you," she fumed. "Nobody asks to have books hand-delivered. And with no previous record! Don't you think you're being just a little high-handed?"
    "Actually, I do think so, too. I'm very sorry. I realize it's highly irregular, but I have no other choice."
    "I don't know why I'm doing this," she said, "but I don't suppose you'd want to tell me the way to your place?"

The Colonel
    "I doubt you can regain your shadow," speaks the Colonel as he sips his coffee. Like most persons accustomed to years of giving orders, he speaks with his spine straight and his chin tucked in. It is greatly to his credit that his long career in the military has not made him officious. Rather, it has bestowed an order to his life, along with many decorations. Exceedingly quiet and thoughtful, the Colonel is an ideal neighbor for me.
    He is also a veteran chessplayer.
    "As the Gatekeeper warned you," the old officer continues, "one of the conditions of this Town is that you cannot possess a shadow. Another is that you cannot leave. Not as long as the Wall surrounds the Town."
    "I did not know I would forfeit my shadow forever," I say. "I thought it would be temporary. No one told me about this."
    "No one tells you anything in this Town," says the Colonel. "The Town has its own protocol. It has no care for what you know or do not know. Regrettable…"
    "What will become of my shadow?"
    "Nothing at all. It waits and then it dies. Have you seen it since your arrival?"
    "No. I tried several times and the Gatekeeper turned me away. For security reasons, he said."
    "Predictable," the Colonel says, shaking his head. "The Gatekeeper is entrusted with the care of shadows. He shoulders the entire responsibility. The Gatekeeper can be a difficult man; harsh when not called for, blind to his own