Paper One A4 Novels & Stories

"We've made several copies already. Enough, in fact, to fill countless bookshelves." I took the paper, its texture rough and earthy, a stark contrast to the pristine, polished sheets I was accustomed to seeing in the capital or at Brightwing Academy. It was the color of rich, dark soil, as if steeped in mud or coffee, a testament to its humble origins. Yet, despite its unassuming appearance, the paper was surprisingly durable. Anything written upon it remained clear and legible, a testament to its practicality.

“A foundation gala. Small. Cameras. We’ll stand where they can see us and say very little.” He says it like rain tomorrow, not we sell a story to strangers. I nod because the ring is heavy and the rent is paid and this is what paper looks like when it grows legs. He had said an announcement but I guess this did sort of count as an announcement of a kind. “Before that—” He gestures to a desk in the corner. On it: a thin leather folio, two phones, a sleek black keycard on a tray. “Protocol.”

I opened the cover and found some documents piled up on top of each other and it looked like hundreds of papers "What is she doing with so much paper?" I said to myself and brought five out of them. I placed them on the bed gently so they wouldn't get rough and I would have to face Ary's wrath I read through the papers but I don't look like anything related to college nor did it look like any resume I kept on reading each line and I see it was like a background check or something related. I read further to see the name of the person who Ary has his background report on but I can't seem to understand how it was written. The paper was already old and looked like she had it for years so the ink

I used the specialized font trying to make everything perfect. At nine-forty-five, I was done I brought the printed copies to his office, I had made sure to use a ruler to ensure the staples at were a perfect 45-degrees just like the manual said. I handed him the files and he took it, his eyes scanning the first page. “You used 24- pound paper.” He said most definitely and I blinked. “I… I used the paper in the tray.” I whispered. “Master files are meant to be printed on 32-pound bright white paper.” He replied tossing the paper at me. “This feels like news sprint, flimsy and unprofessional. Redo it.” He said casually and I gaped at him.

And like that, we were in front of my quarters at the east end of the long walkway. “Let’s get in,” he said. “Wow, a huge flat screen television, and is that a game console?” he asked, with a hint of excitement. “Yeah, it is a Playbox series R pro infinity edition” “What the heck is that!? What type of naming sense is that?” he replied, laughing hysterically. “Okay now, let’s get to class”. Then he said; “System, take us to the realm of infinity.”

I looked at it. A stack — proper writing paper, the kind from the eastern mill that the Council used, cream-colored and faintly textured, in a quantity that was not a gesture but a logistical statement. Three hundred sheets, by my count. Wrapped in oilcloth against the damp of the road. The matching envelopes in a separate bundle. A second smaller bundle of the soft pencils I preferred over pens for drafts. I looked at him. "You're going to need it," he said. He went back to his study.

He'd read it three times already, and has already marked it to hell with his red pen. "Quiet," he murmurs flatly, eyes not budging from the paper. "Yours is next." Derek's paper is only five pages. It’s supposed to be eight. And mine is ten.

"No, you don't understand. I need you to TYPE two thousand copies." My jaw dropped. "Each paper must be fifty page long, Times New Romans, font size 11, 12, and so on. Keep increasing the font size for each paper and use a different font for each letter. I need it delivered unfailingly to me by the end of today." What?! "B... But Mr Winston. Sir!" He was sitting back at his seat now and focusing on his computer, paying me no heed. He.. he wanted me to TYPE TWO THOUSAND copies of the SAME 50 PAGED letter?!

He quietly sneaked a glance and found that her breast had somehow gotten a bit bigger. Women really were unreasonable specialties. How could they still continue to develop at this age? He shifted his gaze away and untangled himself. “Aren’t I back now?” He grabbed two pieces of A4 paper that had some words on them, as well as a picture. The content seemed simple enough to understand. “What is this?”

He carefully put the paper into his pocket and answered Philip's question. “I can tell at a glance that you’re an ignorant one! This thing is called A4 paper! Have you heard of it? It’s very valuable, you know? Didn’t you notice that it’s different from anything we’ve ever used before?” Based on his explanation, Philip finally realized that this A4 paper was very valuable to them. It was something they had never seen before, so they found it novel. Moreover, the people distributing flyers were practitioners with photographic memory, so they would make sure every person only received one flyer without allowing anyone to get extra.