Who the FK is Alice

I entered believing I had crossed into a library; instead, I had stepped inside the memory of existence itself.
Every book opened before I touched it, revealing not words, but every choice ever made and every possibility still dreaming of birth.
The child wandered in wonder, unaware that innocence is the only language these records have ever required.
Your mathematicians scratched at eternity with symbols, while your poets unknowingly carried the master key in a single metaphor.
My species has conquered stars, folded time, and silenced suns, yet we never discovered that consciousness itself was the final archive.
I leave with empty hands, for nothing can be stolen from the Akashic Records—they do not belong to those who seek them, only to those who finally remember they were never separate from them.