It was torture. Pure and simple. This was torture.

I hadn’t read a bit of it, but I hated it already. I hated every part of it. The lack of embedded video, the disregard for any sort of conceivable entertainment, all the way down to each round period.

Jeflin poked my side. I looked up. He was holding his phone inches from my face. A message read on the screen, “wat where u doing up their”.

I glared at him. He returned with a blank gaze. I smacked his hand away. I didn’t have time for Jeflin’s proddings at my bursts of anger. I had to read this deadtree and write a report and I had to get my phone back and I had to prove myself right.

I would prove somehow that deadtrees are ancient and outdated for a reason. No one read them anymore because they shouldn’t. Surely, it is just a show of natural selection. The strongest survive, and the dead don’t reproduce.

Deadtrees were called deadtrees for a reason. They were dead.