You shuffle in your seat to get comfortable, sneak a quick glance around to check nobody's watching you, and pull the book out of your pocket.

Ah, paper. Made from tree pulp. The edges are battered and the pages are yellowed, and it has a distinct, almost musty, odour. Nothing beats paper*, and this book is an heirloom that's been in your family for generations, so it's indescribably precious to you. Also, it's thoroughly illegal in 80% of the known galaxy, like all non-electronic media.

This book is called Adventures of a Connipton Cowboy, and the jacket teases with a picture of a stubbled, rugged man on horseback.

Eagerly, you turn to the first page.

* Some of the more successful religious cults contend that scissors beats paper, but you're not a member of any of those.
Adventures of a Connipton Cowboy