bell notificationshomepageloginedit profileclubsdmBox

Read Ebook: The York Problem by Kastle Herbert D Orban Paul Illustrator

More about this book

Font size:

Background color:

Text color:

Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page

Ebook has 68 lines and 6017 words, and 2 pages

And then he remembered the ancient word, the forbidden word, the cardinal sin that meant death if used. He'd heard it one night when his father had gotten hold of enough medicinal prychol for a long drunk, and had ranted and raved against the Outsiders.

"Nigger!" John screamed. "Niggers, all of you! Billions of foul-blood Niggers! Planets full of lousy Niggers! All alike! All brown! Only we are white! Only we are pure-bloods! Only we aren't Nig--"

The paralysis intensified, everything stopped, he couldn't breathe, he wanted desperately to breathe. And, more than that, in a final instant of clarity, he wanted to say that it was all a mistake--everything he'd said, everything he'd thought, everything he'd lived by. He too would be a golden brown, like the billions of others. It was his own folk who were the outsiders, but it wasn't their fault either. It was the fault of those few thousand who'd refused Integration when all the rest of Earth's population had decided on mixed breeding as a solution to human conflict. And that was six hundred years ago, and the cults had formed in York, and no one knew how to break the pattern of hatred, envy and fear.

But he was falling into a long tube that had no light and had no end.

He was wrong. He wasn't dead. He opened his eyes later and vomited and was then hauled to his feet and stripped and given fresh clothing. He was taken by two Outsiders--only he didn't think of them that way any more, only used the term because he had no others--was taken by them to a white room and pushed inside and left there alone as the port slid shut.

A voice spoke from the smooth white walls. "CPCNC-Earth urges you to accept psychiatric treatment."

"No," John said automatically. He didn't want his brain touched. There were stories told by the masters--

The voice spoke again. "Very well. You have used the term of utmost profanity to villify a citizen of Upper City. The Galactic Scroll calls for a penalty of death. However, because of your youth, and probable syndromic history, the sentence is reduced to ten years in Re-education House. Have you anything to say?"

John fought not to cry out. Ten years! That was worse than death! Six months was enough to break a man, and ten years would drive him mad.

He'd wanted to say he was ready for CYC. He'd wanted to say he was anxious for the time when he'd be eligible for Integration, when he'd be sent to another part of Earth and allowed to mingle with the golden-skinned people and so lose his hatreds, fears and tensions. But now he couldn't. Because it wasn't a matter of free choice any longer. It was an escape from terror, from ten years in hell.

Later, he was told that this room would be his home for the next ten years. He didn't answer the unseen voice, nor touch the food that was given him through the minor-port. He decided he would use the only means of escape men had ever found in Re-education House. He would starve himself to death.

He meant it.

In the council room not far away, the thirteen members of CPCNC-Earth were considerably more subdued. They'd had an hour of waiting, and an hour of thinking. Each was now wrestling with his conscience, wondering what portion of responsibility was his in the coming decision. Of course, everyone in the Galaxy agreed that York's eight hundred thousand residents had to be eliminated since they were incorrigible race-god fanatics. But now that the moment was almost at hand, sterilization seemed quite drastic, and euthanasia--

To a man, they looked up as Mala entered the chamber. "Most Peaceful Sir," she began, stopping before Commissioner Dobu's chair. But Dobu snatched the transcription from her hand, mumbled over the code-identification and formal introductions, and read the meat of the report in a voice that trembled only slightly.

"After years of work, our scientists on Centauri Two have produced the answer to the York problem. Four million units, liquid, of a new geneological agent is en route to Earth, York Sector, for immediate administration to the white population. The effect produced by induction of this agent into the bloodstream will be an instantaneous change of pigmentation to accepted norm, and subsequent loss of racial tension. Change is permanent, and will be transmitted to offspring. Administration will be initiated by paralysis of entire white population, said method to be launched immediately. Shipment of geneological agent should arrive Bunche Spaceport, 22 hundred hours, day-this-report. Within five days after change of pigmentation, population of York is to be separated into family units and sent to as many different Galactic sectors as is possible. This order applies to all white residents, not excluding those found outside of York, or those in re-education institutions."

John Stevens didn't hear the shout that went up from thirteen relieved and delighted men. He was entering the second hour of his fast unto the death.

He couldn't know that he'd fail to complete a single day of it.

For additional contact information:

Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page

 

Back to top