In the future, when the waters rise and food becomes scarce, we will look back on the feud over how we read as our last intellectual dance — a dispute waged between paper-loving purists and early adopters of the tablet. But in the very distant future, when cats rule the Earth, the bookstore's resurgence will first be noticed in New Kansica, where Lawrence's Dusty Bookshelf will never have gone away. It will have stayed well-stocked through all those dark, treeless generations. Look around today and you'll see why. Stacks and stacks of books grow and recede daily, as titles arrive, are classified and put out for browsing. The turnover is steady in this college town, thanks to ex-profs lightening their loads, to academic refugees shouldering canvas bags brimming with the arcane and the out-of-print, and to broke students celebrating the end of Western Civilization (the class, not the construct). The staff and fellow browsers are friendly, the bookstore's necessary felines don't have thumbs (yet), and the seven-days-a-week print haven stays open until 10 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays. Your move, Kindle.