Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) by Dale B. Mattheis Read Free Book Online Page A

a pocket and covered her
mouth to hide a big yawn.
    “You
lost at least two liters of blood, Mr. Friedrick—that’s nothing to take
lightly. You’re going to feel weak for another day or two, but your hematocrit
is coming up surprisingly fast and I’m comfortable with letting you go. We’ll
notify police of the planned discharge. As far as I know the hold has been
removed.”
    At
the door, she paused and smiled warmly. “Think about what I said. There’s been
a lot of talk about it in the E.R. No one including myself can see that you had
any alternative except permitting them to kill you.”
    Shortly
after she left, Jeff got out of bed and shuffled into the hallway. He was tired
of being in bed and needed to break free from thinking about the men he had
killed. Slipping his mind out of that gear, he engaged anthropologist mode. A
few steps and he had mentally departed the hospital.
    The
haven of abstract thought proved such a relief that Jeff was able to
objectively examine his close call, and to reflect on the explosive growth of
gangs. He could not avoid concluding there was a direct relationship between
the stunning advances in technology and rapid failure of social infrastructure.
With a sour grimace, he thought, What infrastructure? What did society have
left in its system of reward and punishment except punishment?
    One
percent of the population controls ninety-eight percent of the wealth, the rest
starve or are no better than indentured servants. Unless you start on the
inside, know someone on the inside, or have an indispensable skill, forget it.
    Jeff
reviewed his own prospects at the university. The possibility of becoming
tenured was fading rapidly. He had already seen a well-connected instructor
junior to himself pass by over Dr. Hildebrand’s objections. I’ve just got to
hang on and socialize more, he thought anxiously. Forcing his mind out of that
familiar rut, Jeff examined broader implications.
    How
many years now since the computer revolution started? How many years since New
Age Prosperity for all had been predicted? At least fifty, Jeff concluded,
probably more. Fifty years of promises, and nothing to show for it but grinding
poverty.
    It’s
not that computers or technology as such are at fault, he mused. Jeff glumly
reviewed a cycle that had been played out many times in human history. Plate
armor, gunpowder, the possession of iron versus bronze—all technological
miracles that had resulted in the dominance of those who first possessed them.
But only so long as they kept the advantage to themselves. And that had become
much easier. Less than twenty percent of the population could keep up with
modern technology.
      “It’s just like the Middle Ages,” Jeff fumed
out loud. “What’s the practical difference between a financial kingdom and a
geographic one? The end result is the same—serfdom.”
    He
caught strange looks from passing individuals and retreated to inward musing.
This can’t go on much longer. God help us all when it comes apart. Is that what
it’s going to take to distribute wealth and access to hope? World War Three? An
endless cycle of war until nothing is left except feudal states, disease and
mass starvation? An insistent beeping got Jeff’s attention. He glanced at the
hospital bracelet’s digital readout.
    “Well,
shit,” he muttered.
    Somehow
he had managed to wander not only off his ward, but off his floor as well.
Returning to his room on rubbery legs, Jeff slumped down in a chair. America,
he morosely thought, is fucked. He had not moved when Carl entered accompanied
by an austere, gray-haired man.
    “My,
don’t we look cheerful.”
    Jeff
scowled in Carl’s direction as he stood up. “Professor Hildebrand, I’d like to
apologize for this mess. I know it’s put you in a difficult position.”
    Hildebrand
looked him over carefully before replying. “That, young man, is something of an
understatement.”
    Taking
a seat, Dr. Hildebrand gazed at Jeff with