CHAPTER I

The Lifestyle Services case worker seemed friendly and genuinely interested in him. Tom Galloway wasn’t entirely pleased about that. The case workers he’d dealt with in the Twin Cities had all seemed overworked and time-pinched. The desks in their cubicles had been piled with file folders and official bulletins, and they themselves had exhaled an institutional miasma that seemed to say, “Don’t show me any red flags and we won’t ask too many questions.”

But Megan Siegenthaler seemed to have all the time in the world, and was cordially curious about everything having to do with Tom and his family. Her small office had been painted a cheery mint green, and a tasteful landscape print hung on one wall. No family pictures though. He supposed those might be stressful for some of the case subjects. Or just as likely she had no family.

She herself was a honey-haired woman who must have been very attractive once and was still comfortably good-looking. Her green eyes were especially remarkable. She smoked a long thin cigarette, as was her right in all places except for hospital ICUs ever since the passage of the Smokers’ Re-enfranchisement Act. She’d offered Tom a breathing device, in accordance with the provisions of the Act, but he’d turned it down. Tobacco smoke had never bothered him much.

“I suppose it’s pretty dull here in Epsom compared to life in the Cities,” she said.

“I like it dull,” said Tom.

“Does Christine like it dull too?”

Tom adjusted his mouth in something like a smile. “No. She’d like to move back.”

“What do you think about that?”

“I don’t care what she’d like. I’m trying to keep her alive.”

Megan picked up the Galloway file and flipped through it. She had very long fingernails, enameled in red. Tom had always wondered why anyone who had to work with paper or keyboards would bother with such a self-inflicted handicap. “I think we ought to talk about this,” she said. “Your last case worker made a note about your attitude. You realize that, in the long run, you can’t keep your daughter alive, don’t you?”

Tom kicked himself in a mental shin. He should have learned to keep his mouth shut by now. He didn’t want to have this discussion again.

“I know what the law says,” he grunted.

“Then you know that if Christine decides to end her life, you have no legal power to stop her. The Constitution’s on her side. If she complains to us that you’re interfering, she can be taken from you and escorted to the Happy Endings Clinic by a Lifestyle Services worker. The law is very explicit.”

That’s just a snippet from Death’s Doors, my newly released e-book (by the way, Orie says it’s non-DRM, which means you can convert it to your e-reader’s format using the Calibre utility, even if you don’t have a Kindle). I thought I’d just take a few moments to talk about this book, and what I think it means (I could, of course, be wrong).

I originally wrote Death’s Doors about a decade ago, as best I remember. As I did before with Wolf Time (which Baen tells me will soon be available in e-book form), I simply sighted along the lines of current cultural trends and imagined what the world would be like a little way down the road. As it happened, the book didn’t get published until we actually were down the road a few miles. But no harm done, I think. The things I predict haven’t happened yet, but seem just as probable. Or more.

I deal with two cultural developments in Death’s Doors. One is assisted suicide. I’m sure some readers will say that a constitutional “right to die” would never be extended to minors, and certainly not without parental consent.

My answer is, “Yeah. Remember how well that worked with abortion.”

The other is the worldwide expansion of Islam, particularly in Europe, but also in America.

Nothing has happened in the years since my first draft that makes me think the kind of scenario I describe has gotten less likely.

Then a word on language. This one isn’t for the kids. Probably OK for older teens, depending on the rules in your home. As in the past, I allow a small amount of cursing, but mask obscenities. I’ve discussed my views on this before. I lament that it’s impossible to write a realistic conversation in our age that doesn’t include bad language. But to pretend it isn’t so would be to paint a false picture of the world, and lower my credibility with the non-Christian reader. And the non-Christian reader has always been my target audience.

Finally, I haven’t discussed this with Ori, but I think it’s the thing to do. If you have an established blog where you review books, contact me at lars (at) larswalker.com, and I’ll get you a free review copy. Kindle format only.

Thank you for your support.