[ WP ] Due to the Matthew Effect , the rich get richer and the poor get poorer . In AD 2084 , economy is finally come to a point that a single person owns 99 % of wealth on the planet . The poors were stuck in their house on life supply because the oxygen and lands outside is private property .

The window opens and the sun ’ s rays illuminate my room. I touch my framed copy of Andrew Carnegie ’ s ‘ Gospel of Wealth ’ hanging on my wall. Outside, my lawn is always green, the sky always blue and no building or manmade object obstructs my view. I breathe in the fresh clean air, a hint of lemon from a nearby tree. I sit in my chair and think. 
 
 “ All boats rise with wealth, ” I said to no one. Next to me is one of the last few wine bottles on earth. I pour myself a glass and raise it to the air. “ To you Dad. May your wisdom bring fruit. ” I sip. 
 
 A woman ’ s voice, my mother's, sweetly tells me, “ Dear, message comms open. Mars. ” 
 
 “ On. ” As if the air is my command, an image materializes of a decrepit old man. His voice is akin to men stepping on walnuts. 
 
 “ Sir. Multiple colonial habits are requesting further shipments of oxygen from Lunar. ” 
 
 “ Work output? ” 
 
 “ Low. ” 
 
 “ No. ” With barely a wave of my hand, the image vanishes like a daydream. I take another sip, but I tire of the taste already and dispose of the full bottle by gently pushing it off the side table. The bottle dematerializes before hitting the ground. 
 
 With a thought, I access all the latest information that the solar-net can provide. I sense all those who live on Mars and the cloud cities on Venus. A trillion computers on Lunar calculate what I need to know. On my physical eye, a quick story about another group of children trying to reclaim ancestral land came up. My security forces intercepted them and the kids have been reeducated to proper workers. 
 
 With a heavy sigh, I lift myself from the chair and stare at Carnegie ’ s masterpiece. 
 “ These people live the life of movie stars from the past, and no matter how well they have it, there is always a few that rebel, ” I said again to no one. I step outside. 
 
 The landscape around me is perfect: grass at the right height, trees trimmed, and sidewalk crack free. I begin my morning ritual of work-walk. Thinking of all the projects that needed to be done, where to place computer power and how to focus on the challenges of space. I harvest power from collectors around the sun and my only limit is the time they take to recharge and broadcast. I need to expand my wealth and to do so I, or my chosen progeny, need to harness others stars…a perplexing problem. Computers have breached human intelligence but lack the will. After years of effort, no solution to the problem has presented itself. 
 
 Already a handful of minutes away from my house, my mother said, “ Dear. Another message comms open. Mars. ” 
 
 “ On. ” The same man appears, sweating more profusely. 
 
 “ Sir. Work output is now rated high. ” 
 
 “ Deliver. ” And with that one word, giant construction autos spur to life on the surface of the moon. Scooping up ilmenite, processing it into liquid oxygen, and transporting them to large booster rockets the size of old battleships of earth. Within seconds, they are fueled and launched. Data written on my eye confirms the operation. 
 
 “ Thank you sir. ” I wave my hand and the old man fades away. “ Mother? ” I ask. 
 
 “ Yes dear? ” 
 
 “ We don ’ t need as much humanity as of now. Limit oxygen supply to domes one through five. Allow six to eight to say in status until I figure out my star problem. ” 
 
 “ Yes dear. ” 
 
 I continue on my path. Plotting the next stages of mankind. If I can ’ t get them to another star; then there is no point for humanity to continue, for they have become nothing but a modern horse in an age of machines. 

