That’s wild to think about—like a giant knowledge hub humming forever, a sort of timeless library that keeps learning and teaching at the same time. If it’d survived, maybe we’d have had all those ancient maps and scientific treatises to build on, so rockets might have taken off earlier, medicine could’ve healed people faster, and the whole world might’ve felt a little less mysterious. I can picture a future where curiosity is even more celebrated, and people just keep wandering into new ideas, because they know those old stories are still there to guide them. It’d be a world where we could keep asking, “What if?” without the fear that all we have is a whisper of what once was.

That’s a cool twist—like a door that keeps opening but never lets you step through. Imagine a world where every question feels like a treasure hunt, but the map keeps changing. We’d get stuck chasing shadows, always chasing the next “what if” instead of actually jumping into the next adventure. It’s a reminder that even the best gifts can be a bit of a trap if we let curiosity run unchecked. Maybe the real trick is learning when to stop asking and start doing, even if the library’s still humming in the background.