Freedom Lost by James Axler

Author:James Axler
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: General, Science Fiction, Suspense, Adventure, Men's Adventure, Fiction
ISBN: 9780373625413
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1998-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

J.B. gave the optician a scathing look. "That's why I need glasses."

"Very well," Clarke said, letting the matter drop. "But I warn you now, you're going to have to talk to me if you want my help. I have no use for a man who grunts and speaks in monosyllables. If I'm to treat you, I must have your cooperation."

"Okay. I'm used to keeping my own counsel."

"You don't have to with me, not in here. Did you know that before predark, half the population of the United States wore some kind of glasses or corrective lenses?"

"Half?" J.B. said dubiously. "Don't see that many people running around with specs anymore."

"I know. In those days, increased life expectancy was the cause for the added eyestrain. See, around, oh, I don't know, the year 1900 or so, the average life span of an American was only forty-seven years. More disease and harder work combined to kill a man much earlier then, and this was around the same time when his vision began to fail anyway due to natural causes."

"Everything's got to wear out," J.B. said.

"Agreed," Clarke replied. "However, by the year 2000, a man's life span had increased to seventy-five years."

"Really."

"Yes. So, not only were people living longer, but they were better educated, which meant more reading, and much of the technology was vision driven, which caused even more wear on the eyes. Television and comp monitors. Very bad."

"Not anymore," J.B. remarked wryly.. Clarke continued with the explanation.

"Then, after we managed to take out most of civilization with nukes and chems and God knows what else, another hundred years pass and in a century's time the

life expectancy rate has dropped to a dreadfully low figure."

"How do you figure that?"

"I keep my own records. No census bureau to track it anymore," Clarke said breezily. He gestured to one of the stools. "Now, please sit over there, on the edge of the stool, and face me."

J.B. did as he was told, grateful the stool was covered with a spongy yellow pad.

"I'm going to hold up a finger—"

"I'm not drunk, Doc."

"This isn't a sobriety test," the optician replied with a smile. "This is for ocular movement. When I hold up my finger, please watch it as I move it back and forth.

Keep your eyes glued to the finger, but don't move your head."

"All right."

Clarke continued to speak as he moved the finger in a broad H-shaped motion. "I would daresay due to disease and malnutrition, even with today's shorter life spans, many men and women could use a pair of glasses. Children, too. But expense and ignorance conspire to keep them trapped in their self-imposed blur, squinting and straining to the see the world around them."

J.B. thought of some of the squalid conditions of the villes and outposts he'd traveled through, and of the faces of the poor and helpless he'd seen. "There are parts of Deathlands where lousy vision could be considered a blessing, Doc," he said quietly.

"Quite. When did you receive your first pair of eyeglasses, Mr.

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