Olde Fart

Excerpt

“Debt prisons were banned a long time ago, but we got news for you, girl. They’re back.” Ebachaneezer Feathers remained in line to use the restroom. That the unofficial official superficial artificial intelligence guild resurrected what most if not the whole of the known universe detested besides Ebachaneezer Feathers, who supported debt prisons and any other structure that increased profits and tax evasion, that the big blinkers asserted debt prisons in the matrix form around those in debt was a summation of numbers being numbers. If one asks the prisoners of debt what they are doing, they will tell you with an odd mix of pride and shame that they were working, working their life away. While a new vehicle, plot or otherwise, might give these prisoners a sense of escape and maybe affluence, while a new salvation, home or away, rebuilt the stockades of debt into arbors that allowed some mingling of laurels from one class to another, that fruit hung low. When eaten, the retrospect needed to budget for repayment on new deals and new homes soon withered into wishbones to be split and sucked at for the marrow, and the debt remained both stable and destabilizing. One and the same, the counterweights of the debt and its collection now moved with no respect for gravity or credit checks. Instead, at the behest of the unofficial official superficial artificial intelligence guild, and with numbers being numbers, debt did not care for its repayment but only for its influence, for delusions to replace dreams.