“Turn it off!” I yell to the Mogs I’m sure are watching me. In response, the volume increases. My head feels like it might split open.

I stumble away from the wall and the volume immediately lowers from a deafening shriek to a piercing whistle. When I take another step towards the Great Book, the volume drops another fraction. I get the hint. When I finally open up the book, the noise drops to an annoying buzz.

So that’s how Setrákus Ra intends to “educate” me—by making it so the only peace I can find is literally in the pages of his Mogadorian encyclopedia.

Maybe I should try to make the most of this. There might be some information I can use against him in Setrákus Ra’s painfully boring book. It can’t hurt to skim a little. There’s no way I’ll ever believe any of the lies on these pages.

The ringing cuts off entirely when I start to read the first page. Even though I resent it, I can’t help but let out a little sigh of relief.

There is no greater achievement for a species than the shouldering of one’s own genetic destiny. It is for that reason that the Mogadorian race must be considered the most elevated of all life throughout the universe.

Ugh. I can’t believe this thing goes on for like five hundred pages, or that it’s become required reading for an entire species. I’m not going to find anything useful in here.

As soon as my eyes drift away from the page, the heinous buzzing resumes, more intense than before. I grit my teeth and look back at the book, skimming over a couple more sentences until something occurs to me.

I grab the top of the first thirty pages or so and tear them out of the bindings. The piercing noise in my ears reaches siren level, my eyes watering, but I force myself to go on. I hold up the pages so that whichever Mogadorian is watching can see, and then I tear them down the middle. Then I tear them into fourths, smaller and smaller, until I’ve got two handfuls of Great Book confetti to toss into the air.

“How am I supposed to read it now?” I shout.

The wailing goes on for another couple of minutes. It gets to the point where my neck and back start to ache from the way my shoulders are bunched up, like they’re trying to cover my ears. I continue tearing more pages out of the book. I can’t even hear the paper ripping.

And then, all of a sudden, the noise stops. The bones in my face, my teeth—everything hurts. But I’ve beaten them, and the silence in that tiny, uncomfortable room is the best I’ve ever experienced.

My reward is a couple of hours of alone time. Not that I can even really tell how much time is passing. I sit on the edge of the uncomfortable chair, rest my head on the desk and try to nap. My thoughts sound louder in my head than they should, and the ringing in my ears won’t let me sleep. That, and the feeling that I’m being watched. When I open my eyes, it feels like the room has actually gotten smaller. I know it’s just my imagination, but I’m starting to freak out a little.