When the 12-feet high mountain of books toppled over, the President laughed despite several books slapping at his heels. The surrounding journalists and citizens watching online and on television laughed with him. Everyone was in a jolly mood since everyone agreed that dictators hate books and, surely, this leader had no intention of turning dictatorial since he encouraged publishing and provided grants for book distributions throughout the country! There he is now, holding a pile in both hands and shouting, “Free books! Come and get them!” One book slipped from the pile to reveal its title stamped across someone’s buxom cleavage: How to Serve Colorful Cocktails.
For the occasion, the President wore a loud patterned blazer. The pattern was comprised of book cover images from Purity Press, a paperback publisher of stories revolving around “virginity pledges” to abstain from sex before marriage. Its bestseller was Pink, a 40-page novel about how Priscilla “Pink” Qian, the spoiled daughter of a wealthy family, found love with one of the gardeners of her family’s villa.
At the LF Penitentiary, the prisoners watched on a TV screen that had been wheeled into their dining area. But unlike the unincarcerated citizens who’ve long since forgotten they and their prison exist, no cheer brightened their faces. One prisoner yelled a question through the bars at the guards’ virtual assistant Alexa. She replied with what the other captors knew:
“Constantly reading material that is very basic, predictable, and doesn’t introduce new vocabulary, complex ideas, or require critical thinking does not challenge your brain to grow and create new neural pathways. Solely reading fiction with predictable plots and one-dimensional characters do not offer the same level of cognitive stimulation as engaging with literature that features intricate narratives, ambiguous characters, or requires deeper analysis of emotions and motivations.
Several yelled, “Shut up, Alexa!”
The prisoners didn’t need to be told what they already knew. The initials for their prison, “LF,” stood for Literary Fiction.
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Eileen R Tabios
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