“How else?”
“Books is mostly written and printed in foreign countries.”
“There might be more written here if more people had time to learn.”
Pondible wiped specks of froth from his beard with the back of his hand. “Might and mightnt. Oh, some of my best friends are book-readers, don’t get me wrong, boy.”
“I’d thought,” I burst out, “I’d thought to try Columbia College. To offer—to beg to be allowed to do any kind of work for tuition.” “Hmm. I doubt it would have worked.”
“Anyway I can’t go now, looking like this.”
“Might be as well. We need fighters, not readers.”
“‘We?’”
He did not explain. “Well, you could always take the advice our friend here gave me and indent. A young healthy lad like you could get yourself a thousand or twelve hundred dollars—” “Sure. And be a slave for the rest of my life.”
“Oh, indenting aint slavery. It’s better. And worse. For one thing the company buys you won’t hold you after you arent worth your keep. Not that long, on account of bookkeeping; they lose when they break even. So they cancel your indenture without a cent payment. Course theyll take a med holdback so as to get a dollar or two for your corpse, but that’s a long time away for you.”