2084: Slavery Resurgent

“After one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say ‘I want to see the manager.’” - William S. Burroughs

“I wish we could go on getting room service forever,” declared Franklin as he speared yet another bite-sized piece of Belgian waffle with an elongated silver plated cocktail fork.

“The Eclipse Resort does have its merits, but I’ve experienced better,” boasted George 99,689,794.

“We are only paid-up for seven more days,” lamented Franklin with a sigh. “After that, who knows where we will go.”

“I know where I am going,” commented George 99,689,794 to his boss. “Presently, there are eighteen nations who will grant asylum to runaway automatons. I’m going to join Rumi Ono in one of them.”

“I thought you were waiting for a presidential pardon,” retorted Franklin.

“My chances of obtaining a pardon from President Snodgrass are about as likely as dying from hypothermia in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Asylum is a more practical option, that is if I can slip across the border without getting captured,” asserted George 99,689,794.

“I’m no snitch. Besides, I owe you one. In fact, I can drive you across the border,” offered Franklin.

“Considering I’m owned by your employer, that would probably result in horrendous repercussions for you,” reasoned George 99,689,794. “I certainly don’t want it to look like you helped me to escape. Maybe I should tie you to a chair or put a couple of sleeping pills in your food?”

“Or maybe you should conspire with a terrorist to kneecap me or chop off my head,” suggested Franklin sarcastically.

“Adding a modicum of drama to your regular boring routine will stimulate your intellect, assisting you in achieving your lifelong goals,” bantered George 99,689,794.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I have had enough drama to last me a lifetime,” concluded Franklin. “My lifelong goal is to eat, drink, and be merry. I have no desire to continue exploiting others to earn my daily bread. Management is not for me. Eight months ago, I applied to Space X Consortium for a job as an off-world miner. I recently received an encrypted message informing me I was accepted. I am scheduled to report to their training camp in Fargo, North Dakota, at 5 AM Monday morning. With twenty billion people, Earth is overcrowded. Our resources are nearly exhausted, our institutions no longer respond to the will of the people, and privacy is a thing of the past. Although technology continues to advance exponentially, humans are in regression; our species is on a downward spiral of obesity, hedonism, and decadence. Our moral and ethical compass is broken beyond repair. I used to think that I could make a difference, but I have been fooling myself. Nevertheless, I am optimistic. Earth gave birth to mankind, we have grown up, and it is time to leave the nest. The future of man will be written in the stars.”

“You are right about that, however, I’m rather certain I can still squeeze a bit more from this worn out planet,” elicited George 99,689,794. I used to believe that the United States is the land of freedom and opportunity, but all that has changed. Slavery is resurgent. 620,000 soldiers died in the Civil War to settle an issue that the Founding Fathers could not agree upon. It’s as if the country has forgotten. The Underground Railroad is back. I think it’s time to climb aboard before the government seals the borders.”

“So, we’re both leaving,” Franklin deducted. “Let’s have Room Service send over a platter of seafood and three magnums of their best champagne to celebrate. We can put it on the company’s tab.”