It was a good day. They snagged, bagged and tagged an artifact without it or anyone trying to kill them. Myka was about ready to sit back and watch whatever movie it was that Pete had picked when she witnessed an unsightly scene before her.

"What are you doing?" she asked the perpetrator of this great evil.

H.G. looked up innocently, like she wasn't doing anything wrong. She then went back to her…Myka can't even think of that thing's name without wanting to weep for humanity.

"Why Myka?" H.G. said in that condescending tone (that can sometimes be interpreted as playful teasing but right now, Myka was so enraged that she didn't want to think of it in the context of the back and forth flirting that had been going on between them). "I thought you are the best at observing people's behaviors as I recall."

Myka huffed and narrowed her eyes at H.G. "I have eyes. I know what you're doing."

"Then, why do you ask darling?" H.G. asked and ran her hand through her hair. Her flawless, perfect hair. Myka wanted to do that with her own hands, just tug them a little as she kissed those irresistible lips and maybe do something a little more but damn it! Don't get distracted. She was angry, remember?

"The problem isn't with what you're doing. It's what you're doing it with," Myka said.

Then H.G. had the balls to brush her fingers over that thing. That sorry electronic replacement. Nothing could replace the real thing no matter what people say. The feel. The smell. The actual effort when using one's fingers to—

"You look quite upset," H.G. said. "Although, I am unsure why because it brings me such joy."

"Wha…I…you…arrgh!" Myka screamed in frustration.

"What's going on?" Claudia who just came into the living room asked. Then she saw it. She immediately ran to H.G. and snatched that disgusting thing away from her. "I told you not to use this outside your room," she whispered, glancing nervously at Myka.

Myka's eyes widened. "So you were the one who gave it to her?" Myka yelled. "How could you?" She was disappointed.

"No, you see," Claudia said, "I was teaching H.G. how the internet works and it just came up when we were looking at Amazon and, and she asked what it was and I told her but I swear," she stressed, "I told her about its evils but she wanted to buy it anyway."

H.G. quirked an eyebrow, "But you recomme—ouch! Claudia!" she cried out. Claudia tried to act innocent but Myka saw it. She stepped on H.G.'s toes. But H.G. recovered quickly. She took it back from Claudia and said, "But you have to admit, it is quite useful. It certainly makes my life easier."

"I heard screaming," Pete said as he entered the room. Then he saw it too. "Oh," he reversed back out, "I'm gonna go help Leena out with the…popcorn."

"Me too!" Claudia exclaimed and hurriedly followed Pete to kitchen. Myka had never seen anyone leave a room that fast.

"I thought you just need to put it in the microwave," H.G. commented.

"Don't change the subject," Myka said.

"Why does it matter where I read my books?" H.G. asked. "On paper or on a screen. What's the difference?"

"Tell me you did not just say that," Myka said, fuming. "Of course it matters. If people keep downloading their books instead of going to an actual bookstore, before you know it, there won't be any books left in this world. Maybe in museums but you can't touch or read them."

"Except there will be books," H.G. said, "just not in a medium you prefer."

"A book is not just the words you know. It's an experience. Going into the bookstore with anticipation, not knowing what you're going to stumble upon but you know you're going to leave the place with something amazing and the fact that you can hold it in your hands and feel the coarse surface of its pages just makes the whole experience more special."

"But what I'm holding," H.G. said, waving the Kindle (there, finally, but she still felt a bit nauseous thinking it) around, "is practically a library. I no longer have to climb on shelves or dig through a mountain of books just to find that one sentence that stole my heart a few months ago. And the search function is quite handy too since I don't have to figure out which page contains said sentence."

"Don't you have a system?" Myka asked.

"You mean the five months ago pile, within the last five months pile and currently being used for reference pile?"

"Seriously?" Myka was shocked. "Don't you at least alphabetize your books?"

H.G. laughed. "I bet you have sections for different genres and subject matter."

"Hey," Myka warned, "don't mock the system. I don't need a search function to find my books. I already know where they are by heart. And if you like the sentence so much, why don't you bookmark it?"

"Oh, I mark the pages just not with a bookmark," H.G. said.

"Don't tell me you dog-ear the pages."

She didn't admit or deny it but there was guilt written all over H.G.'s face.

Myka gasped. "You're the devil!"

"What?" H.G. blurted. "I didn't tell you."

Those poor books.

"Where are you going, Myka?" H.G. called out as Myka rushed out of the room.

She went into H.G.'s room and there it was, leaning against the wall to her left. She opened the trunk and she was right. It was filled with books with worn out spines, creased pages and crooked covers.

When she heard the footsteps of someone entering the room, she said, "How could you?" It hurt to see books in this bad a condition.

"You know how you said reading a book is an experience?" H.G. said. "This is my experience. I read them over and over again until the pages almost fall out and it gives me a sense of pride because it means the pages are not wasted. That they have been flipped and turned over repeatedly for their meanings and are never taken for granted."

Myka turned and said, "Dress it up all you want. You mistreat your books."

"May I remind that some of my books are a century old."

"There are books that are a thousand years old in the Warehouse," Myka retorted. "They don't look as bad as these."

H.G. walked towards Myka and stopped just next to her. She crouched and picked one book up. She looked at it fondly. "I could tell you the story behind each crease and stain in this book."

"There are stains!" Myka cried.

"Well," H.G. said, putting her book back into the trunk. She gently took Myka's hands out of it and closed the lid. "That's why I need a Kindle so I won't destroy more books."

Myka pulled her hand away. She was mad and she wanted to stay mad but H.G.'s touch was distracting her from her anger.

"What if I make you a deal?" H.G. asked. "I get to keep the Kindle."

"But—"

"Just listen," H.G. cut her off. "I will not use it in front of you. In return, we go to a book store every week and I promise I will use a bookmark or those wonderful little post-its to mark my pages."

"And you have to buy a shelf," Myka added. "I will also check on your books every week to make sure they are fine. You can read a book a hundred times without destroying it you know. I've done it so you can too."

She expected H.G. to disagree but she was actually smiling.

"What?" Myka asked.

"That's quite a good deal for me," H.G. said, smirking, "to have you in my room often."

"Shut up," Myka muttered, blushing. "And don't think your, your, annoying charm will you get you out of it."

"So you think I'm charming?"

"Also annoying."

"But still charming," H.G. said with that stupid grin on her face.

Myka rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Where are you going?" H.G. asked.

"Downstairs. They're going to start without us."

"But what about my punishment?"

"What punishment?"

"For being so bad at taking care of my books," H.G. said, standing up too. Then, she leaned closer towards Myka. "I have been a bad, bad girl," she whispered to Myka's ear.

Myka's cheeks turned redder and her knees almost buckled, having H.G.'s warm breath blowing on her ear.

"Wait," she said, taking a step back as the realization dawned on her. "Did Pete show you porn?"

H.G. shrugged. "I was curious about modern sexual practices. It has been a long time and I felt a bit rusty."

"Pete!" Myka yelled and stomped off towards the living room. She was going to kill him.

She heard H.G. chuckling as she left.

From now on, no one will teach H.G. anything about the modern world except her.