The Prince (Maxon's Selection POV)

Chapter Three

"What do the red slashes mean?" America asked, taking in the room full of books.

"Those are banned books. As far as we know, they may be the only copies that still exist in all of Illea," I said, somewhat proudly.

She spun around and asked a question with her eyes.

"Yes, you can look at them," I said. I was hoping she would ask.

America lifted one of the books very carefully, and flipped through some of the pages. I smiled, and walked to the computer in the corner and began typing.

"What's that?" she asked from behind me.

"A computer. Have you ever seen one?"

She shook her head.

I wasn't surprised. "Not many people have them anymore. This one is specifically for the information held in this room. If anything about your Halloween exists, this will tell us where it is," I explained.

I typed a couple more words in and three books popped up on the screen. "Oh excellent!" I exclaimed. "Wait right there."

I walked over to the shelves and read the spines of the old books. Even today it still marveled me that we had books that were over 100 years old in here. After searching for a bit, I brought the three books over to America. We flipped through them and read, drinking in all the information. It was really quite interesting.

I grabbed the last book, and looked at the first few pages. Oh wow.

"This will be the interesting one," I said flipping through it some more.

"How so?" America asked, moving toward me to get a better look. "This, Lady America, is one of Gregory Illea's personal diaries."

"What?" she exclaimed. "Can I touch it?"

"Let me find the page we are searching for first. Look, it even has a picture!"

I showed America the book, and her eyes widened. She studied the picture and read the caption written below it.

"Do you think thats why we don't celebrate anymore? Because it's wasteful?" America asked.

I shrugged, "Could be. If the date's any indication, this was right after the American State of China started fighting back, just before the Fourth World War. At that point, most people had nothing- picture an entire nation of Sevens with a handful of Twos."

"Wow." she whispered.

"How many of these diaries are there?" she asked.

"About a dozen or so." I said, pointing to the shelf with a row of journals like the one we were reading.

America looked at them, fascinated. "Thank you. This is something I would never have even dreamed of seeing. I can't believe all this exists."

I beamed, "Would you like to read the rest of it?" I motioned to the diary.

"Yes, of course!" She said, nearly shouting. She paused for a second. "But I can't stay; I have to finish studying that terrible report. And you have to get back to work."

Oh Shit. I had forgotten about that...

"True. Well, how about this? You can take the book and keep it for a few days," I suggested.

"Am I allowed to do that?" America asked in awe.

I smiled, "No."

She hesitated, thinking it over. "Okay." she gave in. "Just a night or two and then I will give it straight back."