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The Shackles of Freedom by Mike Resnick and Tobias S. Buckell I came to New Pennsylvania because I was looking for a world with no government, no laws, nothing to hinder me from doing what I pleased. The colonists here hadn't liked the laws back on Earth, so they set up shop, free of all bureaucracy and all regulations. What I never bargained for was having to live with the consequences of that freedom. * * * Mark Suderman was dying on my operating table. His plain blue clothing, stained dark with blood, lay crumpled on the floor. I tried to avoid his brothers' frightened glances. There was nothing more I could tell them, except to pray. They couldn't know it, but he was a dead man before I ever got a chance to examine him. I simply didn't have the tools to save his life. I sighed deeply. So much for freedom. This was the twenty-third time I had the freedom to watch a man die that I could have saved. Hooves clip-clopped in the distance and then echoed their way up the driveway. The rest of the Suderman family had arrived. "Stay here," I told the brothers, then walked out through the dining room to my porch. A plank squeaked as I stopped next to the swing. Mr. Suderman, his hat in hand, stared straight up at me from the bottom of my tiny set of bleached stairs
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