[ WP ] Books are illegal in an `` untechnological '' world , they 're all gone out of print and you 're just about to meet your book dealer .

Darting across the street and into a well-lit alley ( because there are n't dark ones anymore ), my heart is hammering in my chest. The Green Police, with their forest green berets and tazers spitting blue electrical fire are bound to catch on to my futile attempts at sneaky. 
 
 I'm not sneaky. 
 
 *I'm a ninja in the night... So quiet. * I keep repeating this mantra in my mind, knowing that it is doing very little to slow my breathing, however it does conjure the thought of ninjas, and that distracts me from my current dangerous situation. Ninjas are pretty cool. I'd date a ninja. 
 
 *FOCUS* 
 
 Deep breathes. Two more sprints and a dash and I'd be safe in Ho-Lee Mo-Lee's Chinese Restaurant and VR Gift Shop. 
 
 Sneaking around the corner, I desperately try to blend. My long brown hair is n't exactly kosher with today's super short pixie cuts of neon colors. My tweed skirt does n't mesh with the plastics and vinyl skin tight fashions of most girls my age, and I wear glasses though my eyesight - like everyone else's - is perfect. I'm probably the human embodiment of'bookish'. Which makes me very suspicious since tonight I'm going to buy.... *gulp* MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 Thinking back, my rational mind wars with my emotional dreamy side. I want to experience the smell of the pages that my grandmother fondly recounts. I want to feel the history in the pages touched by so many other hands that enjoyed the story inside it. I want to feel connected to what I'm reading, something that I simply do n't feel using my hologram. The fact I know how to read at all is unusual for my age. I'm told my over exuberant curiosity is also unusual. The curiosity that could get this kitty killed. 
 
 My rational brain, the brain that understands this world and gets why books are illegal, thinks I'm an idiot. A cruel individual who only cares about her own human experience. Trees are precious. The paper is our life source. There are so few left. Why am I such a twit?! 
 
 Maybe I should turn around? Ho-Lee would understand. 
 
 No. I'm going to read a book. 
 
 I dart through the streets. My apprehension is sure to give me away. Walking behind an older couple going into Ho-Lee's I think I'll blend in as a family unit. 
 
 There they are. 
 
 Three uniformed Green Police. They look tough. Tougher than old Ho-Lee who appears to be sweating through his plastic apron. When he sees me, he looks both sad and relieved. His arm raises and he points. He points at me. 
 
 Well, as my grandmother use to say, `` Fuck me.'' 
 
 I run. 
 
 But I know I cant run far enough.
