Jack Vettriano Elegy for the Dead Admiral

walked through the hall of lifetimers. Even those on the highest shelves rattled gently as she passed.
She'd save lives. The good could be spared, and the bad could die young. It would all balance up, too. She'd show him. As for responsibility, well . . . humans always made changes. That was what being human was all about.
Susan opened another door and stepped into the library.Around her the busyness of the library went on. Millions of books quietly carried on writing themselves, causing a rustle like that of cockroaches.
She remembered sitting on a knee or, rather, sitting on a cushion on a knee, because the knee itself had been out of the question. Watching a bony finger follow the letters as they formed on the page. She'd learned to read her own life–
It was a room even bigger than the hall of lifetimers. Bookcases rose like cliffs; a haze obscured the ceiling.
But of course it'd be childish, she told herself, to think that she could go in waving the scythe like a magic wand and turn the world into a better place overnight. It might take some time. So she should start in a small way and work up.
She held out a hand.
'I'm not going to do the voice,' she said. 'That's just unnecessary drama and really a bit stupid. I just want the book of Imp y Celyn, thank you very much.'