J Alan Erwine's Tales of Dystopia
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About this ebook
J Alan Erwine’s Tales of Dystopia brings you six bleak futures that hopefully will never be possible. Are the stories dire predictions, or warnings of futures possible? It’s the author’s sincere hope that none of these stories will be taken as a blueprint for the future, but with the way the world seems to be going...he can’t be too sure...
J Alan Erwine
J Erwine was born Oct. 15, 1969 in Akron, Ohio. Early in his life he was exposed to science, and specifically astronomy. From there on, J's passion turned to science fiction, a passion that's never died. Due to family issues, J eventually found himself in Denver, Colorado, where he still lives (well, right outside now.) From the time he could put subject and predicate together on paper, J has been writing stories. None of those early stories exist anymore (thankfully), but that passion for writing has never waned. After several years of rejection, the story Trek for Life was eventually sold to ProMart Writing Lab editor James Baker. It wasn't Asimov's, but it was a start. Since that time J has sold more than forty short stories to various small press publishers. In addition ProMart also published a short story collection of J's entitled Lowering One's Self Before Fate, and other stories, which is still available. ProMart also published a novel from J entitled The Opium of the People, which sold a few copies before going out of print. The relevance of the novel after the events of September 11th caused J to self-publish the novel, as he felt the story had a lot to say in the new reality we now find ourselves living in. Now, this same book has been re-released by Nomadic Delirium Press. Eventually J would become an editor with ProMart. Then, after the untimely death of ProMart editor James Baker, J would move on to ProMart's successor Sam's Dot Publishing. J also spends most of his time working as a freelance writer and editor. J's novel was voted a top ten finisher in the 2003 annual Preditors & Editors contest, and his short story The Galton Principle won a ProMart contest for best story over 5,000 words. In addition, a number of his stories have been voted "best of" in various issue of The Martian Wave and The Fifth DI… and have been included in Wondrous Web Worlds Vols. 2, 3, 4, and 6. In 2009, the Ephemeris Role Playing Game was released. J is the co-creator of this game, and has written numerous supplements for the game. J has now sold three novels and four short story collections, all of which are still available from various sources, including Smashwords. J currently lives with his amazing wife, three wonderful children, three cats, and a very quiet turtle.
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J Alan Erwine's Tales of Dystopia - J Alan Erwine
J Alan Erwine’s
Tales of Dystopia
Published by J Alan Erwine at Smashwords
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All stories appearing in this collection are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
All stories Copyright: J Alan Erwine
CONTENTS
The Galton Principle
The Opium of the People
Harvest of Debts
Forgive Men Their Trespasses
R-Complex
Out of Plato’s Cave
THE GALTON PRINCIPLE
Lewis Goddard stared into his dresser mirror, pleased with what he saw. The dark gray, almost black, uniform fit him well, as it always did. The insignia of the black X on a light gray background that adorned his collar told of his special ranking among the Galton Youth, an organization of young men dedicated to maintaining the recently instituted genetics laws. He was proud to be a member, and he wanted everyone to know it. Lewis adjusted the red armband on his left upper arm. He wanted it to fit exactly as regulations required. The armband, which also bore the X insignia, was worn by all members of the Galton Youth. It told of their place in society.
Lewis pulled his holster from the bookcase, removing the revolver from the holster and stroking it. He smiled as he felt the cold iron grow warm under his touch. This was what made him powerful. Very few people in the New Society could wear guns. They were limited to the army, the Galton Youth, and the leaders. Lewis replaced the gun in the holster and put the belt on, feeling it wrap tightly around his waist like a long lost lover.
He looked down at his finely polished black boots and smiled again. He could see his reflection, even from six feet away. The boots were definitely shined according to regulations.
He left his room and walked to the spiral staircase that led to the first floor of his parents’ home, stopping at the top of the staircase where an old black and white framed poster hung. It was a man with very large sideburns dressed in early twentieth century garb. Lewis stared in reverence and then saluted the picture with great fervor.
Our great father, Sir Francis Galton, thank you for your wisdom and guidance in saving the human race from what it could have become,
Lewis said with a reverence that would have been more appropriate in a church, if there had been any churches left. Lewis again adjusted his gunbelt and headed down the stairs and out the front door.
He’d heard that Washington D.C. hadn’t changed much in the last twenty years, at least not in its physical appearance. The great monuments had been maintained as examples of early American villainy. The only heroes left in the Society were those that had supported the eugenics movements in some way in the past, people like Sir Francis Galton, Lewis Terman, Adolf Hitler, and various twentieth century sociobiologists.
If the city hadn’t changed much in physical appearance, its society had definitely changed. As Lewis walked down the street, he dodged out of the way of hundreds of people wearing purple armbands. These were the genetically unfit. They were the people that were seen as being unsuitable for breeding. They were the sterilized. Lewis gave each of them a sneer, and if any came too close, he backed away, as if a bad genetic code could be transmitted like a virus.
Lewis picked his way through the crowd, trying not to be overwhelmed by his disgust, until he came to a building that had once housed the United States Supreme Court. A new name had been carved into the marble. It read Genetic Court of the New Society.
Lewis climbed the steps of the building and walked through the front door, stepping through a scanner as he entered. The scanner chimed twice, calling a mechanical guard from a side passage. The guard immediately demanded Lewis’ gun.
I’m a member of the Galton Youth. I give my gun to no one,
he said in his most authoritative voice, although his voice cracked as he said it.
Identify yourself,
the robot commanded.
Lewis Goddard, captain in the Galton Youth.
Lewis enjoyed saying he was a member of the Galton Youth. The power of the statement gave him an erection every time he uttered it.
Will you agree to a retinal scan?
the robot asked in its droning mechanical voice.
Of course,
Lewis said, bending down to look the robot in the eye.
Identification verified,
the robot said, although it didn’t seem excited or bothered by the decision. Proceed to Courtroom One, the vile criminals await you there.
The last was said with phony mechanical malice. Lewis wasn’t very impressed by the programmer’s work.
He walked to the courtroom, his heavy boots echoing off the walls like the pulse of some mighty monster. Two heavily armed guards saluted him as they opened the heavy oak doors of Courtroom One. An angry clamor burst through the opening doors. The courtroom was filled with people, all of whom turned to look at Lewis as he entered. For a moment, he felt fear as he saw the hatred in some of their eyes. Some part of his brain made sure to note the faces of those people for later retribution.
The prosecutor got up from his plush chair and walked back to greet Lewis. Mr. Goddard, glad you could make it,
he said, offering his hand.
I’m just doing my duty, sir,
he said as he noted the golden double X insignia on the man’s lapel, signifying his military rank.
I’m General van Edwards,
the man said as he absently stroked the pencil-thin mustache above his thin pale lips. The man had a slightly stooped posture and a scar that ran a course from his left ear to his chin, reminding Lewis of the Mississippi River.
Which battle did you fight in, sir?
Lewis asked.
The Cleansing of the Cherokee,
the general responded with a smile. Lewis was familiar with the battle. It had been the bloodiest of all the Cleansings. Tens of thousands of Cherokee Indians that had been declared genetically inferior had been cleansed from the new nation during those glorious ten days, taking many of the true people
with them.
All rise,
a mechanical voice commanded from the ceiling. Lewis and General van Edwards walked forward to the prosecutor’s