Little Brother

book.
    I had a little Faraday pouch in my bag — these are little wallets lined with a mesh of copper wires that effectively block radio energy, silencing arphids. But the pouches were made for neutralizing ID cards and toll-book transponders, not books like —
    "Introduction to Physics?" I groaned. The book was the size of a dictionary.

Chapter
2

    This chapter is dedicated to Amazon.com, the largest Internet bookseller in the world. Amazon is amazing — a "store" where you can get practically any book ever published (along with practically everything else, from laptops to cheese-graters), where they've elevated recommendations to a high art, where they allow customers to directly communicate with each other, where they are constantly invented new and better ways of connecting books with readers. Amazon has always treated me like gold — the founder, Jeff Bezos, even posted a reader-review for my first novel! — and I shop there like crazy (looking at my spreadsheets, it appears that I buy something from Amazon approximately every six days ). Amazon's in the process of reinventing what it means to be a bookstore in the twenty-first century and I can't think of a better group of people to be facing down that thorny set of problems.
    Amazon
    "I'm thinking of majoring in physics when I go to Berkeley," Darryl said. His dad taught at the University of California at Berkeley, which meant he'd get free tuition when he went. And there'd never been any question in Darryl's household about whether he'd go.
    "Fine, but couldn't you research it online?"
    "My dad said I should read it. Besides, I didn't plan on committing any crimes today."
    "Skipping school isn't a crime. It's an infraction. They're totally different."
    "What are we going to do, Marcus?"
    "Well, I can't hide it, so I'm going to have to nuke it." Killing arphids is a dark art. No merchant wants malicious customers going for a walk around the shop-floor and leaving behind a bunch of lobotomized merchandise that is missing its invisible bar-code, so the manufacturers have refused to implement a "kill signal" that you can radio to an arphid to get it to switch off. You can reprogram arphids with the right box, but I hate doing that to library books. It's not exactly tearing pages out of a book, but it's still bad, since a book with a reprogrammed arphid can't be shelved and can't be found. It just becomes a needle in a haystack.
    That left me with only one option: nuking the thing. Literally. 30 seconds in a microwave will do in pretty much every arphid on the market. And because the arphid wouldn't answer at all when D checked it back in at the library, they'd just print a fresh one for it and recode it with the book's catalog info, and it would end up clean and neat back on its shelf.
    All we needed was a microwave.
    "Give it another two minutes and the teacher's lounge will be empty," I said.
    Darryl grabbed his book at headed for the door. "Forget it, no way. I'm going to class."
    I snagged his elbow and dragged him back. "Come on, D, easy now. It'll be fine."
    "The teacher's lounge ? Maybe you weren't listening, Marcus. If I get busted just once more , I am expelled . You hear that? Expelled ."
    "You won't get caught," I said. The one place a teacher wouldn't be after this period was the lounge. "We'll go in the back way." The lounge had a little kitchenette off to one side, with its own entrance for teachers who just wanted to pop in and get a cup of joe. The microwave — which always reeked of popcorn and spilled soup — was right in there, on top of the miniature fridge.
    Darryl groaned. I thought fast. "Look, the bell's already rung . if you go to study hall now, you'll get a late-slip. Better not to show at all at this point. I can infiltrate and exfiltrate any room on this campus, D. You've seen me do it. I'll keep you safe, bro."
    He groaned again. That was one of Darryl's tells: once he starts groaning, he's ready to give in.
    "Let's roll," I said, and we took off.
    It was flawless. We skirted the classrooms, took the back stairs into the basement, and came up the front stairs right in front of the teachers' lounge. Not a sound came from the door, and I quietly turned the knob and dragged Darryl in before silently closing the door.
    The book just barely fit in the microwave, which was looking even less sanitary than it had the last time I'd popped in here to use it. I conscientiously wrapped it in paper towels before I set it down. "Man,