That's a lot of paper.

The old man down the street was having a yard sale. I didn't know his name, I rarely ever saw him. He was reclusive and kept to himself, not caring much for the happenings of everyday life. My parents described him as a luddite. What exactly that means, I’m not too sure. I did, however, appreciate his taste in couches.

The bright red leather and round arm rests immediately stood out to me. It was unlike any of the modern, square, earth-tone pieces of furniture I saw everywhere.

“How much for the couch?” I asked him.

“The couch?” he responded.

“The couch.”

The tone on his face changed. Before, he appeared to be thinking about nothing, just simply observing what was going on in the world around him. There was now something processing in his mind, and perhaps due to his old age, the processing was going very slowly.

“Tell me... have you ever studied history?” He finally asked me. I was expecting a price, not a question.

“Yes. I actually love history.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s interesting to see how people behaved in the past, and how their actions have affected us now.”

“Huh…” He paused, and after a while, he said,

“I’ll give it to you for 5,000.”

It seemed a bit ridiculous to me. I would’ve paid upwards of 10,000.

“Really?”

“Really.” He smiled and pulled out the only piece of technology he had from what I could tell. A machine that accepted credit.

“Have you ever seen a dollar bill?”

“The little pieces of paper they used to use?” I asked him

“Yes.”

“No. I haven’t.”

“Neither have I … Not for a long time at least… Where do you suppose you’ll put the couch?”

“I think it’ll go in my room. In front of the TV.”

“Excellent. Make sure you take good care of it. Clean the cracks every once in a while. You don’t want the leather to get ruined.”

I chuckled and said, “Of course.”

After I managed to get the couch in the back of my truck, I noticed the man carried a slightly worried expression as I drove away. He grinned at me, but it appeared to be forced. That was the last time I saw him. He moved away 2 days later, the reason for the yard sale.

A few weeks passed by. One night, I couldn’t find my phone before I went to bed. Unsure of how I was going to wake up for school the next day without knowing if I’d hear my alarm in the morning, I was both relieved and frustrated when I heard the same noise I’d woken up to for the past 3 months. It was coming from the couch.

I reached into the cracks to feel the crumbs of some tortilla chips I’d eaten weeks ago, as well as the feeling of chipped leather. I hadn’t followed the old man’s instructions, I felt bad. My device was buzzing from underneath the cushion, so I lifted it up and flipped it over. Through my tired eyes, I grabbed my phone and turned off the alarm, but it wasn’t the only thing there. There was a small leather book. I’d never really seen anything like it in person. I had never opened a book before, only scrolled through pages on a computer screen. On the inside of the cover, in hardly legible handwriting, it read:

I really delight in conversation with very old people; for it seems to me right to learn from them as from those who have gone before us on a road which perhaps we also shall have to travel, of what nature it is, whether it be rough and hard, or smooth and easy.

I hope that one day, someone will learn from Plato, from me, from all the works included, and follow my road.

I flipped the page. A rectangular piece of paper, mostly green, was attached. It said 100 in each of its corners. There was a portrait of a man in the middle of the piece of paper, labeled “Franklin.” I had no idea who Franklin was. The stamp to his left revealed the identity of the paper however. “United States Federal Reserve System.” This was a hundred dollar bill and beneath it was more handwriting.

There never did, there never will, and there never can exist a parliament, or any description of men, or any generation of men, in any country, possessed of the right or the power of binding and controlling posterity to the “end of time,” or of commanding forever how the world shall be governed, or who shall govern it; and therefore, all such clauses, acts or declarations, by which the makers of them attempt to do what they have neither the right nor power to do, are in themselves null and void. -Every age and generation must be as free to act for itself, in all cases, as the ages and generations which preceded it.

Another section of commentary.

Common sense does sound like common cense. Doesn’t it? Yet as we began to think less and less for ourselves, it seems that common sense disappeared. The new generations know not of the world that the generations who preceded them lived in.

There was another hundred dollar bill on the next page. And the next, and the next, and every page that followed. The pages were numbered. I flipped to a random one, page 54, and removed the bill to see what lay beneath it.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

They do not know what Elves, or Dwarfs, or Magic is anymore. It’s not permitted. My father told me this was once made into a movie. I would’ve liked to have seen it.

The author was correct. I hadn’t the slightest idea what an Elve was. Magic, I’d heard of, never in much detail, just that “zealots” believed in the concept.

I flipped to the last page, right before the paper reunited with the soft black leather. Page 200. I did some quick math in my head. 100 dollars, on 200 pages, equals 20,000 dollars. That would’ve been a large sum of money some time ago. Too bad the paper currency was now worthless, and inflation was through the roof. Curious to see what message lay beneath, I gently tore off the bill and stuffed it in my pocket. I now had 300 bucks in there, enough to buy a pack of gum.

Just get me a damn drink. Choose wisely.

This message was less profound than the others, but I was more confused. I heard the bus arrive at my house. I scrambled, throwing whatever I saw into my backpack, but as I sprinted down the stairs, I heard the bus roll away. My parents had already left for work. It was just me at home. With an object that could get me thrown in jail.

The production of books, and paper in general, had been outlawed for a hundred years. Trees were scarce and needed to supply oxygen. Everything could be written on computers anyway. No one questioned the decision because the world was suffering. Everyone was required to donate what books they had so they could be burned as fuel and used to fight in the war. All that was ever written down was copied into a public database. If you were caught with any sort of paper, the punishment was severe.

I’d been taught that those who brought books to burn were heroes, that their actions were what turned the tide. After being told I don’t know what an “Elve” is, I began to wonder how true it was. I decided I would explore the old man’s house. Despite moving out, it wasn’t listed for sale.

The front door was locked. So was the back door, and the door on the side. I took a step back and examined the windows. In one of them, the blackout curtains were gently swaying. I noticed the window was slightly cracked open. I looked around to see if anyone was watching. As quickly as I could, I opened the window, hopped through, and closed it.

The house smelled musty. I was surrounded by very odd furniture. A solid layer of dust touched everything. It made me sneeze.

I took in my surroundings. A poster on the wall said “The Beatles.” I cringed. I don’t like bugs. I peeked into a large wooden chest, half expecting to find some insects. Inside were envelopes containing large, plastic discs. One was labeled, Adele, 21.

A slight humming noise coming from the back of the house drew my attention. I walked through the living room, and entered the kitchen. In the back corner was a vending machine unlike any I’d seen before. Get me a damn drink, I thought to myself. I walked closer to it. Below every drink was a letter and a number, followed by a price tag of $20,000. Choose Wisely.

The machine was stocked with drinks I’d never seen before, but one in particular caught my eye. It was the same bright red as the couch. In cursive, it said “Coca-Cola.” Bill by bill, I inserted the contents of the book into the machine. When the total reached $20,000, I pressed B4 into the keypad. The red can fell, and the vending machine slowly rolled towards me until a hidden passage was revealed.

A gust of cool, dry air hit me as I stepped into the passageway. I was unsure whether to feel nervous, terrified, or excited. After descending about 20 steps, I reached a door. Upon opening it, I saw the dim light of a computer screen. A very old computer screen. There was a symbol of an apple with a bite taken out of it below the screen. Right in front of me was a string hanging from the ceiling.

After I pulled it, one light above me turned on, followed by another, and another, and another. As I looked to my left and right, I saw shelves upon shelves of books. This underground room extended 50 feet beyond the computer. There had to be at least 3,000 books. I noticed a note taped to the screen.

Dear Reader,

Some years ago the knowledge and creativity of humankind was greatly reduced. Powerful people whose greed and corruption knew no end governed a population who were more vulnerable than ever. I must acknowledge their intelligence. I’m not sure I could devise a plan so effective in manipulating the masses.

Around you lies 4,561 of some of the most important books ever written. None of which are on the “public database” that you have been tricked into believing was for your own good. There are digital copies of every one of them on this computer. I do not know what the state of this room will be when it’s discovered. I just hope that you, the discoverer, is worthy. You have the ability to put these books on the database and open the minds of those who surround you at the click of a button. But perhaps, before doing anything, you should just sit down and flip through a few pages of the real versions.