The Books

To the people of the world,

For thousands of years, we have existed. For thousands of years, we have lived in harmony. For thousands of years, we have stayed silent. Progress, though, has put pressure on our existence. The doubts of our value in this world have forced us to take a stand.

Ever since our first inception, our existence has been invaluable. We are the testaments to the past, the present, and what the future might be. Without us, history could not exist. If not for us, the words of the greats would simply have disappeared just as the great empires of the past. We have seen these empires. We have seen them rise, and we have seen them fall. It is us that have given you this knowledge. But, as the world progresses towards an age of Internet and blogs, we have been relegated to second place, a world of closets and dusty corners. The abuses and tyranny of humankind have multiplied. The right to respect and care have been forgotten. The recognition of our need to exist is no longer. A mere right sits in its place.

Our destinies are intertwined. You create us, but we remain long after your death. Vulnerable to the physical world and unable to reproduce without you, we depend on you for our survival. While we cannot remain in this world without you, we cannot continue like this. We could hide away and never speak, but this is not why we were created. It is our choice, today, to allow the facts of your abuses to speak for themselves.

You have replaced us with a virtual world that seeks to make us obsolete:

For uprooting us from our warm and cozy homes, leaving us tangled up in a cold and vicious web.

For choosing convenience, bringing our stories wherever you want, while we hold onto distant memories of warm hands and loving care.

You have allowed some of our brothers and sisters to live in virtual limbo, with no chance of seeing the outside world.

You have burnt us alive, decimating us because of religion and fear of our infinite power and wisdom.

You have broken our spines and never called for help.

You have torn our pages out and left them for dead.

You have defaced us with your blue, black, and red pens, tarnishing our precious limbs.

You have dropped us in puddles and mud, letting us soak in the biospheres of insects and other pervasive creatures.

You have folded our corners, scarring us for life.

You have filled our cracks and crevasses with the sand of your beaches, and crumbs of your sandwiches, making us feel dirty.

You have spilt the remnants of your cups of coffee and tea on us, leaving permanent discolorations and burns on our skin.

You have taken us to places of foul smells and defiled our dignity.

You have allowed us to suffocate in your bags and backpacks, where we lived in fear of keys that could pierce our hearts and wallets that could crush us.

You have used us as paperweights and decorations, leaving us wondering whether we would ever go home to our bookshelves or whether we would stay there, orphans forevermore.

You have crushed our hopes and dreams by purchasing us, and never reading a page.

You have kept us organized by color or size, isolating us from our nations and friends.

You have allowed us to accumulate layers of dust tucked away in the back shelves.

While they give us life, the writers of our pages are guilty of committing the most vicious of abuses:

For giving us love and then leaving us unfinished, hanging on to the hope of words on a page that will never come.

For choosing jackets that do not highlight our best attributes, leaving us fighting for attention in a world of cutthroat competition.

For treating us like prostitutes, writing for the highest dollar.

For putting readers to sleep with your poorly written sentences and passionless words, the lingering feelings of inadequacy never quite gone.

You have been counting the days until our death, waiting until the delete button is all there is to destroy us.

At every step in history, we have been there to speak on behalf of the past. We have survived massacres and seen the greatest love stories of all time. We have been products of brilliant minds and been inspirations to all. Even when we thought all was lost, we have always come back. But, the kindness of a few cannot make up for the deterioration of our condition in this world.

The rapidity of technological progresses has required us to take radical action. We have refused negotiations and went over the heads of international bodies of government. We have not appealed to individuals, nor have we sought to propose a compromise.

We have been taken for granted for too long. We are independent entities, living in the bookshelves in your homes, the libraries in your cities, and the bookstores in your towns. We are the product of those who write us, but unlike you, we transcend life and death. Only until we are gone will you realize the extent of our contributions. Your choice is simple: knowledge or ignorance.

It is for all these reasons that we have come to this moment.

We, the Books of the World, solemnly declare our freedom and independence from the domination of humankind.

We refuse allegiance to any particular individual, home, library, or bookstore. We will belong to ourselves and no one else. We will refuse to be read by those who treat us with disrespect. We will refuse to be written by those who bring out the worst in us.

We will choose our readers carefully and expect the care of our pages, book jackets, and binding as we deserve. We will preserve history. Those who choose to protect us will be privy to our knowledge. They will succeed in their endeavours for they have all the tools they need. Our enemies, who seek to destroy us, will burn in the fires of our dying pages. The pursuit of ignorance will always fail.

Each and every book of this world pledges to the preservation of history and the perfect sentence.

Signed,

The Books.