Granger heard sirens from down the dull, gray street, followed by the sound of rushing kerosene and the crackling of flames on paper. His walls that night had been coated with the orange-red light of fire. He heard a scream, then a whisper, then the sound of a fire truck gently cruising down back to its station. The next day, Granger woke up, not once thinking to question it, nor did he ever wish to. A single thought was in his mind: “I hope another episode is on tonight”. Turning on his nearly broken lamp, Granger stretched and fidgets as he tries to wake up. One minute, brush your teeth, Two minutes, make your breakfast, Three minutes get dressed, Four minutes, you’re out the door. But something was tugging at Granger. A thought or a whisper, it was pulling him back. A second. Now two.
“Now I’m late”, He thought to himself blandly. His hand on the knob, he lazily turned it to be welcomed by the cold and dark morning air. The scent of burning and the essence of ash were still in the air from the house next door, but it didn’t bother Granger. Ash is what he breathed, ash is what he lived for. The reason things burned wasn’t important.
“Perhaps today will be better than the last,” said a voice in the back of Granger's head. He began his walk with a quick turn to the left, beginning with his right foot forward then followed by his left foot. Walk down two blocks, then make a quick turn right. Walk three blocks more, and don’t you dare even try to look up from the gray concrete. Your purpose is behind a desk, don’t look for trouble or trouble will stick to you. Follow the routines, there is no need to question them. Why try to change? Granger turned again right, and faced a ten story black building whose windows were tinted dark. The upper layers had newly installed bars on the windows. Perfectly symmetrical besides the front next to the door, where there were police lines and tape on the sidewalk, where a body had fallen. Granger’s dead eyes didn’t shift, didn’t blink, as he pushed the bronze handles of the door and entered. Sign in. Climb to the sixth floor. Sit down at your desk. Wait for alarms to come in. A dull job, but one that Granger found peaceful enough for him to perhaps catch some sleep. Grangers stomach grumbled, he didn’t have enough time to prepare himself a proper breakfast like the civilian guides told him to. He smelled toast a couple desks away and turned towards it. It was coming from a group of men huddled around a desk, all whispering and chatting to each other.
“Did you see the fire burning last night?” whispered the dark haired one.
“I did! It was you who got the alarm in and notified the firemen, right?” The bearded one said as he pointed to the pale skinned one.
“Yeah. It’s a noble job those men do. Captain Feuer sure is one hell of a fireman,” Said the pale skinned one.
“I heard that the next city over is supposed to have one hell of a fireman team. Lead by Captain Beatty, I think”.
Granger paid barely any mind the gossip between the men, and he turned his attention back towards his alarm. One hour. Two hours. Three. Four. Five. With his shift over, Granger picked up his bag and headed back home. The night wind was comforting to him. He was tired, but was looking forward to getting home and watching his favorite television show. Around two blocks from his house now. Granger heard a rustling. A low crackle coming from his right, into an alley.
“A cat. Or perhaps a mechanical hound searching for its books. Nothing more,” Granger thought, but his mind told him to go after it, find what it is. And so he did. Now fast walking down the alleyway he heard the wind rustling something. Something... paper-like. At the end of the alley was a beaten and broken shed, with many holes and cracks in the damp wood that made it. Granger dropped his bag and went inside the cramped shed. He followed the rustling sound to find three paperback books sprawled on the dirt floor of the shed.
“Books! What are they doing here??” Granger thought. “I should take them and bring them to the station to be disposed of immediately,”. Breathing heavily, Granger picked up one of the books and read the title: The Republic, by some fellow named Pla-. The name of the author had been worn out and was now unreadable. Granger, hands intensely shaking, opened the cover. Books are Evil. They disrupt the peace. The book was missing multiple pages, but Granger let his eyes fall on a line: “I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing”. Books are filled with meaningless nonsense. Their only purpose is to upset. Granger’s eyes widened. He quickly turned to another page: “The object of education is to teach us to love what is beautiful”. While in school, Granger never was taught to appreciate “beautiful” things, nor was he ever taught the meaning of the word “beauty”. He turned to another page. Then to another. Granger sat down on the dirt. He checked his nearly broken wristwatch, 5:45 PM.
“Maybe, I could sit and read for an hour or two. Maybe more,” Granger wondered, with a hint of a smile on his face. His first smile in more than 20 years. Three hours later, Granger was sleeping with The Republic covering his face. It was the first peaceful sleep in a long time. But it was not to last, as Granger jolted back awake when he heard loud footsteps rapidly coming down the alleyway.
“The hound must have picked up on something!” A voice said. Fear grew in Granger’s eyes. The was a mechanical hound here! It must have smelled the books in the shack, and was going to tell the firemen when he entered the shack! Without a wasting a single moment, Granger grabbed all three books and pocketed them.
“I hear someone! That bastard must have the books!” Another voice said. Granger felt to fear engulfing him. He once saw the mechanical hound a few blocks away from his house. It’s whirs and clicks of the gears that made it function were terrifying, and the teeth! The thought of the jagged steel spikes grasping and tearing at his leg made Granger shudder. Granger knew if he was caught, he would surely die. He noticed a large hole in the back of the shack, and instantly went through it. He began running down to the other end of the alleyway, and heard the footsteps behind him quicken and begin to chase after him.
“I hear him! Run back and tell the truck to circle around and corner him!” The voice yelled. Granger broke into a sprint. He had never run so fast in his life. He ran one block, two blocks, three. He heard the sirens behind him and the whirs of the mechanical hound getting closer and closer.
“I’m not safe in the city anymore,” Granger admitted. “I need to get away from the city, from my house. From everything. The border shouldn’t be too far from here”. Despite Granger’s urgency to escape the city and the cold metal jaws of the hound, his legs were sore from running, his arms were getting heavy. He couldn’t go on for much longer. As he ran, he heard the radio from a nearby house;
“...Unknown fugitive on the run... In possession of books... helicopters being sent out... mechanical hound is on the hunt...”. Granger pushed all thought of fire, all thought of the hound, all thought of the life he had lived for too long out of his head. He quickly turned a corner. The sirens were getting closer, and more were starting to come. He saw the fence that served as the border! His legs felt like they were burning, but he kept sprinting to freedom. He jumped on the old and rusting chain link fence and hung on, climbing slowly but surely up to the top. Granger hopped over, and with his strength fading, tumbled down the steep hill in the tall grassed fields. As he lay in the soft grasses for a while he heard the chaos of the pursuing trucks, helicopters, and hounds get farther and farther away from him.
“Was it always like this?” Granger pondered. “Was society always this unwelcoming, broken, and introverted? Were we always taught to hate books?  Ms. Dienstag always told us things used to be different”. Granger’s breathing slowed and became more steady as he lay in the fields. “I can’t believe anything I have been taught. I can’t continue anything I have done. I wish I was in a different time, where books were still praised and open to all...”. Granger’s mind slowed down as all his thoughts disappeared and he dozed off in the calm natural air, with no ashes to be found. He was safe. 
A few hours later he woke up to hear a faint crackling. It was fire, but it sounded controlled, like a... campfire? Granger got up and dragged himself over to the light. His leg was bleeding, but the pain didn’t matter to him. The cold wind seemed to fade as he got closer, and as the fire came into view Granger saw four men huddled around it, all in black overcoats and tall hats.
“Come to learn something new?” one of the men asked. “Ask any of us. We’ve memorized books to tell those willing to learn them”. “Yes,” replied Granger. “But I also wish to join you”. Granger took out the three books and showed them to the man, who smiled.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing beside him. “We have much to discuss”.