Wild Jack Read Free

long.
    â€œIf you don’t know,” Brian said, “I don’t suppose I could tell you.” I was surprised how angry he was. “Anyway, he’s our servant and I’ll tell him what to do. And I don’t like hearing him called ‘boy.’”
    Martin stared at him. “What’s got into you? They’re always called ‘boy.’”
    â€œThen it’s about time they weren’t. They’re human beings, like us.”
    â€œLike us? Sure. Maybe we should fetch and carry for them, turn about. And have one or two of them on the council.”
    There was some laughter.
    Brian said, “It might not be a bad idea, at that. What right do we have to make them serve us?”
    The laughter stopped; I imagine the others were as shocked as I was. The division between mastersand servants was something we had taken for granted all our lives—something you did not even need to think about. Nor want to. A remark like that gave one an uncomfortable, crawly feeling. Brian had probably drunk too much wine, but that didn’t justify it. Martin merely turned away, and no one else said anything. We all wanted to drop the subject, but Brian insisted on going on.
    â€œHave you ever thought about how they came to be servants in the first place?”
    Martin turned back and looked at him in exasperation. He said dismissively, “What needs thinking about? Because they’re descendants of savages, that’s why. They wanted to come into the cities to get away from the Outlands, and our ancestors let them. In the Outlands they would be just about scraping a miserable living if they weren’t killed by wild beasts first. With us they have food and clothing and shelter. They made the bargain.”
    â€œTheir great-grandfathers made the bargain,” Brian said. “Does that bind them?”
    The question was too absurd to need an answer.
    Brian went on, “And what about the time before that—before there were savages at all?”
    â€œThey’ve always been savages.”
    â€œNo, they haven’t. Only since the Breakdown.”
    Martin shrugged. Before the Breakdown were the Dark Ages—millennia of squalid barbarism, followed by the two centuries of the technological explosion which were as bad if not worse. We all knew that. For two hundred years mankind, suddenly given machines and power, had squandered the resources of energy, burning up coal and oil recklessly, with no thought for the future. Then the oil supplies had failed and the coal seams had become too thin for economic working. As a result the complex structure of the early twenty-first century had fallen apart in wars and rebellions and men fighting for crusts of bread among rusting machines.
    People had died in the millions and tens of millions. Only a handful— our ancestors—had had the courage and determination and intelligence to start building again in the midst of chaos. The organizers had been those scientists with an understanding of the techniques of nuclear energy. They knew that although it had been inadequate in keeping the whole world with its billions of inhabitants running, it could be used to powerindividual strongholds. So, one by one, the cities rose again, though far fewer and smaller, each centered about its energy tower. Beyond their walls stretched the Outlands, abandoned to the murderous whims of nature.
    Brian seemed blind and deaf to the effect he was having. He said, “The reason the people of the Outlands became savages was because they were kept out of the cities. If they could have come in, they would have, and lived civilized lives. Those who tried were driven away, slaughtered.”
    â€œBut if they had been let in,” a girl said, “things would have been impossible. Everything was balanced on a knife edge. Any increase in numbers would have meant civilization breaking down again and us all becoming savages. Is that what you think