A few years ago, I was putting together a list of links to original thinkers
whose work is represented on the World Wide Web. The idea was to show the power of the
Web in making it possible for such voices to be heard.
Among them was Norwegian American Gary Kildall, whose work, so instrumental in the
development of personal computer systems, is now not adequately celebrated.
Reading about this extraordinary innovator and that he died on July
11, 1994, reportedly from an accident that resulted in a brain hemorrhage,
I remembered lying in a hospital that very day -- the sickening pain
from my mashed leg; my hair still matted with blood; the knowledge that
I would have bled to death if my severed artery had not been so swiftly repaired.
A terrible coldness swept over me as I thought about Gary Kildall; the
loss of his life; his creative spirit forever silenced; the loss to our
civilization of all who have died in such circumstances.
Although such details as the accident scibe describes (which did happen
to me) are true, the story that is set forth in Ask for Sanctuary is
written with the lens of fiction. The deep sorrow that pervades it is fueled by the
metaphor that a coordinated campaign of genocide against creative and caring people of all
kinds -- including artists, athletes, scientists, workers, public servants,
activists, spiritual leaders; people of all walks of life,
people of all races -- has existed for so long in our free country.
