It turned out this particular book was flagged. Which means it is not allowed to be read, or even possessed. Why the museum even had an example in the first place, of a flagged item, was unthinkable, and serious. I guessed the museum would be closed now, and probably ransacked. Maybe it would never be allowed to open again. I would have felt bad for the museum, if it were not for the fact that I had stolen the item in question. I had read it. Two times. And once you have read something, you cannot simply forget about it. The words were forever there, carved in my memory, out of reach from The Government. And it made them furious.
I sat in the white interrogation room. The most likely response to the situation would be to cry, but to be honest, I was too shocked. I was not a law-breaker. I had never broken a rule in my life, as far as I could remember, except stealing (and reading) that book. And I never would have, if I knew it was flagged. It did not even occur to me to check. I delivered it to the policeman immediately when he asked for it. I was taken to the police station, and I explained everything, of how I had just wanted to read a real book, the theft, and how I had picked exactly that book simply because I liked the name. They did not believe me, and my apologies were not heard. When I think of The Government, I always visualize a hard, white wall, with no decorations. There is no mercy, no grey areas. Apologies and excuses have no fastening point on that wall, and simply fall to the ground. I know I should act like a hero or something and say that I even now felt happy to have read such a great book, but I was not. Suddenly I hated that book, wishing I had stayed home that day.
I promised repeatedly to forget about what I had read, and never speak of it, even though I knew it was in vain. And I was right.
In the end, they gave me ten days in The Camps.
Before all of this, before That Day, when I went to the museum, I was a quite ordinary girl. I did not stand out, except that I liked to read a lot more than most people do, and I did not care much for series and movies. They make me restless, while my Kindle can keep me still for hours. So, except this, I was ordinary. I did average in the evaluations at school, I got mediocre to good scores, I had a normal amount of friends and followers and likes. My parents were the same. I lived with them until I turned 16, and The Law commanded me to live for myself, in this small apartment. Any longer, I could have become even more attached to my parents, and attachment is dangerous, or so does The Law say. Love is not trending anymore, it is a part of the traditional values, and those are dead in The West, for the most of us at least. The modern values are the material ones. Values that can be measured in likes, looks and items. And efficiency. Everything is efficient in The West. The modern values are produced.
A long ago dead writer once said, at the end of the 1900s, that the big stories are dead. By that, he meant the big stories of love, and sacrifice, and passion. And he was right. Authors today write about different things, material things. People live differently. By Public Opinion, the traditional values are considered stupid, pathetic. Love and passion are the death of efficiency. How would the modern man get anything done, if he just ran around in love? Nothing. That is what The Government says. We get our dopamine today not from the touch of flesh, but glass, screens, and likes. Love is not needed.
I have heard it is different in The East, and that that is why their world is being torn to pieces by war. The countries of The East are fighting, or their government is not efficient enough to provide for the basic needs of their inhabitants. Our politicians say it is caused by the traditional values, that they can not get anything productive done with those. I do not know if it’s right. I have learned to keep my mind still, like a frozen lake. No ripples.
Well, until now. Except this is not ripples, it is a tsunami.