You leave the university alongside Claus. You cross the street and reach a small bookstore. You enter and discover a space that shuns metals and glass; wood and shelves loaded with books offer a comfortable, even homey atmosphere where one can get lost. A Chopin piece plays from a patched-up record player.
Beyond the reception and the initial shelves, the establishment extends underground, possessing a rather deceptive size compared to the compressed cubicle that is its facade. It is almost labyrinthine, and amidst the dust and the smell of aged paper, you discover a handful of young people lying on rugs, sharing a smoking pipe. Claus grabs a random book from the shelf and settles among the rest of the liberals. You have your doubts.
"We are not slaves to capital here, brother. Grab any of them and read in peace. The owner knows that if words aren't consumed, they are lost."
You grab a copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude and take a seat on an old sofa. It feels strange to hold a real book after so long, and even more so to be surrounded by walls of them. With digitization, old tomes are an endangered species.
"Want some?"
Claus offers you the pipe he's holding; his gaze is reddened by the effects of the drag. You worry that the police might bust in at any moment.
"Don't worry, man, we help the owner pay protection money so they don't bother us. National Security prefers us drugged and quiet, rather than lucid and picking fights. If you don't feel like flying, well, that's respectable."
He pulls the pipe back.
"Sumire doesn't like it either. It seems she didn't come, but you'll meet her eventually. She's tough at first, but then you kind of understand her, and she's a sweetheart."
You debated with them about books, music, movies, games, trends, politics, religion, and of course, war. Regardless of their state of mind, those young adults had good heads on their shoulders, and they all agreed that the divine war is a mistake.
"The high cost is dog ideology, man. How do you stop a mutt from pissing on your bed? You hit it. The divine war is exactly that... You hit an entire species so it stops misbehaving. Of course, you don't use a newspaper, but bullets, and bombs, and gas, and shit. We are more humane with dogs than with humans, friend. That's fucked up."
Immersed in the debates, you don't even realize when night falls. You say goodbye to the nonconformists and accompany Claus back to the university.
Go to your dorm and rest. You need it (Scene 16)