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Book of Knowledge

He slammed the book shut with a thump. She jumped as the dust gently settled back onto the old leather cover.

"Hey! I was reading that!" A trace of a whine leaked into her voice.

"I know. And you shouldn't. The Book of Knowledge is dangerous in careless hands."

She looked down at the book. The dusty cover was old and tatty, the rough brown leather dark and aged. Small embossed text proclaimed the book's title in a language she couldn't understand, but otherwise it looked harmless enough.

"It doesn't look like much of a book of knowledge to me; it only seems to contain dance steps!"

He nodded silently, removing his hand from the cover of the book and leaving a faint pattern of his fingers in the dust. "All knowledge in the universe can be expressed in dance. The movements of a well-trained dancer can capture the hearts and souls of countless numbers of people. Great minds have been known to become all consumed by the graceful steps of another. The dance is blissful; euphoric. It ensnares the watcher and delights the dancer. To follow not the clumsy movements of will, but the careful steps of an unseen directive, the rhythm, is addictive; a feeling of precision and control and unknown actions in response to a definite and predictable beat is irrepressible and irresistible. This is why the book must remain closed; this is why you must not read it. For imagine how much power a person would have if they knew all the steps, and could direct their movements in time to the rhythm of life?"

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