Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
Spoilers: Vague ones for 6x01 and 6x02.
It's something completely different, the virtual world in the Library. Life is different; River lives in words and code, in a mainframe her Doctor has stabilised.
She'd once (and against her better judgement) spent a lot of time she really hadn't any other way of spending wondering what it would feel like, when that time came; when he forgot.
"And now? Does it feel like… a freefall?" Anita had asked, when River had told her a version of a part of a truth about that story.
And River had shaken her head and said, "Not at all."
Anita had dug her toes into the sand. "Too cliché, huh?"
And River had smiled and talked about the first time she'd visited Space Florida.
Here, she can visit (live in) events in a book she's written herself. Words within words; so comfortingly familiar.
The draft of her first book had included some observations on a certain cosmic shower. She'd cut that part eventually but he'd urged her to include it again and she'd said it was superfluous and he'd wrinkled his brow and ranted somewhat adorably about the importance of details… She'd sent it to the publisher without those paragraphs.
Here, in the Library, they were back again (in version of the book, CAL informed her) and the shower was as real as River was and the shapes of the words she had used to describe it flickered behind her eyes, and the shower did the same in front of them.
Anita and the Daves had wanted adventure, and now they have unlimited access to it.
And River Song, Professor River Song, has a team and a desk and theses to form an opinion of.
Sometimes she reads until late, and startles awake at three a.m. with her head against her arms against that desk. Sometimes, she gets up and relocates to the sofa. Sometimes, she refreshes her makeup and heads out into the night with a grin.
She wondered, briefly, what had happened to her diary. If it was still there, on the outside, whether or not it had been uploaded (but why should it), whether or not it would be (but why would it). (Whether or not she could live in it, but – briefly.)
There were lots of the ends floating about in this world… and lots of to be continued.
"A fresh start," Other Dave had said. He and Miss Evangelista had agreed early on not to use book related similes.
She tells them all stories, as often as she can.
(And she still has her diary, but not really.)
She's has a good memory. All her friends and all her lovers; all her small victories and all her great triumphs; and all those dark, dark moments - she remembers, and she is her memories.
This one big spoiler, hidden among countless insignificant ones. She should have realised sooner. The things he let slip were so often so ridiculous, like that incident with the marmalade… Really, she should have realised, but he was so very distracting when he wanted to be.
The spine had still creaked when she'd opened the diary and she'd had a smirk on her lips and a pen poised over a fresh page.
He had perched on a throne of spare parts and linen and dictated: "The Doctor… always lies."
And she had thought the hitch in his voice had been derision.
Then he had smiled, and she had lived in the computer for months or years when she'd realised that smile had been meant for that place and that her.