You're in a space with no windows, no clock, no other people passing through. Just an endless hallway that goes nowhere in particular, and a room full of books that no one but you and her seem to have ever touched. The hallway is almost meditative in its emptiness — you drift, thoughts appear like static in your peripheral vision, you gather them up. It's the kind of low-stakes repetition that lets your mind wander, which is probably the point: the library wants you thinking about yourself, not about winning.