Anarchy in New Enlgand Read Online Free PDF

and without compulsion.
    It was the force that Barry envied most. As an arbiter he was well aware of having to negotiate and concede; having to finely word agreements so that he could squeeze a little gain out of hours of hard work. He wished more than anything that he could simply issue a proclamation, and have that be law!
    Law: a dead meaning really, the word more applicable in the modern day to scientific principles. What was once called law was now called agreements, contracts, and free association. What was even more aggravating to Barry was that for every little litigation he had to find a victim. How many times had the perfect opportunity arisen to help along a business he had invested in – by ruling against a competitor – only to lack a victim! In the good old days, it could be claimed that society in general was the victim.
    Money had only gotten Barry so far, and although he had plenty, it would not support him at his current spending habits for thirty years of retirement. And given the choice between money and power, Barry would have taken power any day, if true power was still available; power in the old sense of the word, where people in the right positions could do whatever they wanted without retaliation. But power was no longer derived from who had the most guns and the biggest muscles. Today, power flowed to those with the most friends, who had helped the most people, who never tired of positive interactions and good intentions. They had influence; the power of networks, the power of acquaintances. Barry knew all too well the detriment of burning bridges. His company could have been the largest in New England if not for an event, 30 or 40 years earlier.
    Mr. Barry read a lot of books and boasted an antique library in his home full of novels and texts from before the collapse. He still enjoyed paper pages, and had as much interest in historical works as he did in old fiction from the 20th century. He read about when there were governments, and he pined to have an agency at his disposal like the FBI, daydreaming about standing in J. Edgar Hoover’s shoes. He read about how the FBI once raided the lab of a guy named Tesla, just because a rich tycoon, JP Morgan, told them to do so. He read about hits carried out by the CIA on reporters and loudmouths who threatened the power structure of politicians and bureaucrats. He poured over books about judges giving decades long sentences to rape victims for "perjury", and other judges giving time-served to their rapist friends. He slipped into a daydream about having the power of force at his fingertips.
    He thought about Molly driving home from work, hitting the brakes and nothing happening. He thought about her frantic expression, her terrified scream, and her car burning all around her. Barry imagined Molly walking down the sidewalk to work, with a coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other when, BOOM, a bullet slams into her skull and out the other side, spraying brains all over the sidewalk and onto the wall behind her. Finally Mr. Barry could not help but let a real, genuine smile cross his lips.
    "Ahh..." he sighed. If only things were as easy for people like him as they used to be. But why can't they be again? It was wishful thinking. And Barry knew he was dreaming if he thought he could get away with killing a reporter. The investigation would inevitably lead back to him if he hired anyone to do it, and every cent of his money wouldn't be enough to pay off a single security agency, let alone the dozen that would be involved in one way or another with the investigation.
    The frown had returned to Barry's face because he knew there was nothing he could do to stop the corruption report from surfacing. But he had to do something to avoid the impending report ruining his business. Security agencies and their customers would be furious, and the last thing he wanted was protesters outside the building; the quickest way to make customers drop like flies. And once