Knowledge is expanding exponentially, as humanity fills the galaxy and then some. But advances in physics (which Draper describes in fictional mathematical terms) are able to keep up with the storage problem, until all of human knowledge, for all time to come, is packed into one drawer. Of course, there is one wee problem. Retrieval is ultimately macroscopic. And so the indexes grow. And when they get miniaturized, the indexes to the indexes grow. And so on, which then leads to a higher-order index of the iterated indexes, and then so on again. All this is spelled out in some detail. The neverending recursion, while threatening to grow to Ackermann-like proportions, is still manageable. But when a spontaneously generated Gödelian self-reference is discovered in the indexing system, the whole lbry, and with it all of human civilization, collapses overnight. . . By William E. Emba

Ms. Beatrice Hempel, teacher of seventh grade, is new — new to teaching, new to the school, newly engaged, and newly bereft of her idiosyncratic father. Grappling awkwardly with her newness, she struggles to figure out what is expected of her in life and at work. Is it acceptable to introduce swear words into the English curriculum, enlist students to write their own report cards, or bring up personal experiences while teaching a sex-education class? Sarah Shun-lien Bynum finds characters at their most vulnerable, then explores those precarious moments in sharp, graceful prose. From this most innovative of young writers comes another journey down the rabbit hole to the wonderland of middle school, memory, daydreaming, and the extraordinary business of growing up