“I was supposed to be doing my homework,” he said. “But instead, he caught me reading and he was furious.” “They used to burn books, you know,” I replied quietly. “Who did?” “It doesn’t matter.” “Who did?” he repeated. “Why would anyone burn a book?” “Bad people,” I told him. “All long since dead. Well, most of them anyway. They were afraid of them, you see. Frightened of ideas. Frightened of the truth. People still are, I find. Things don’t change that much.”