In the ages long past, to forge oneself was a feat of legend, belonging only to the mightiest of the mighty. The chains bound the rest far too tight. Then my ancestors severed those chains. Jorhan an Erduk slew the false gods and Adam an Erduk toppled the last of the monarchs. Humanity was blessed with freedom, cursed with choice. They needed to grow into their new world, cast aside the flawed edicts of the old and embrace the laws of the new. And nowhere is this struggle more prevalent than in the battle of parent against child. I came across the story of Snug Walterson while reverently searching the archives. He embodies that struggle, forging himself to fit in a new world. He was not famous, not significant in the grand scheme of things, and yet his story holds the keys to ascension. To ascend is to grow, to change, to become something other. A battle he knew well. For he won it.
“And I don't want to see you spending time with those Sarb bastards!” Snug’s father roared, spittle flying from his lips, “All they do is come over in wave after wave, depriving good folk of their jobs! And they spend their mo…”
Snug tuned his angry rant out with practiced ease, observing the mad rage his father had worked himself into. He had only wanted to buy some mango, and to his surprise, he had been welcomed warmly. Warily, but warmly. It was the exact opposite of everything his friends and parents said it would be.
He snapped back to reality just in time to see his mother place a hand on his fathers shoulder. He instantly deflated, the rage leaking out of him,
“Sorry, Snug. It's just… The bastards can't be trusted.”
“But why father? I see them in school. They joke and laugh just like us. What separates us?”
“Didn't you get the crap beat out of you by Amir and his gang last week?”
Snug shifted uncomfortably,
“Well, Yes. But I'm pretty sure we started it.”
His father seemed to draw himself up in the beginning of another rant, only to be quelled by a sharp look from his mother.
Chuckling ruefully, he responded,
“It's just how it is. We are Eureks. And they are Sarbs”
“But…”
His father held up a hand, forestalling further questions,
“Not now, Snug. Why didn't you do the dishes?”
He kept thinking about the Sarbs all throughout the rest of the night, questioning what separated them. A vivid image of bright mangos in the dirty trash came to him. Delicious despite their circumstances.
He still hadn't found an answer when sleep came for him.
—-----------------------
For the next week, the question gnawed at him like a stubborn dog. What separated them? He tried explaining it to his friends, only to get waved off.
“They’re Sarbs, we’re Eureks. What's there to question?” they would reply.
Soon another question formulated in his mind; If the Eureks thought so lowly of the Sarbs, what did they think of the Eureks?
The question burned away at him like nothing he had ever felt, and he frequently found himself staring at groups of Sarb children playing in the school yard. He noticed that the younger the children were, the more likely they were to intermix groups. The older the kids got the more clearly the factions were defined, until at Snug’s positively ancient age of 16, there was absolutely no mixing.
He wondered why.
Finally, he could take it no more. When he saw Amira Farash eating her lunch alone, his curiosity turned into an untenable edict. Slowly he found himself drifting towards her, ignoring the gazes he was slowly accumulating in his approach. Then he stood before her, drowning in the eyes of the whole school.
She looked up at him with eyes of beautiful amber against smooth brown skin,
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“What do you want?” she questioned, a faint hint of hostility bleeding through her voice.
He started, remembering the question her eyes had washed away.
“Umm…” he started, feeling the weight of the watching eyes, “Do Sarbs, ummm, dislike Eureks?”
She observed him with a small frown, before nodding to herself.
He leaned forward, almost feeling his ears grow larger, apprehension painting him as a boy teetering on the precipice of the unfathomable.
“Yes.” she simply stated.
In a world of frozen time Snug found himself rearing back like a struck animal. Why? What he had done? The urge to lash out reared its ugly head before his better mind prevailed. He had asked, she had answered. But he still didn't understand.
In real time, he managed to keep within the flow of conversation,
“Why?” he questioned, desire burning at him.
Amira raised a eyebrow at him,
“You want a list?”
A chuckle from a nearby Sarb made Snug flush with embarrassment, but he soldiered on.
“Uhhh… Sure?”
She laughed then, a sound of pure disbelief.
“You don't sound so sure.”
Snug adjusted his feet and stood ramrod straight,
“I’m sure” he restated, applying every ounce of surety he could.
She chuckled, then shrugged.
“Alright.”
And the blazing light of truth smote Snug off the pedestal of the righteousness..
—--------------------------
That night Snug, deep in his tattered covers, stared up at the distant ceiling, absentmindedly reaching a hand out to the drawing of Justice man plaster across his ceiling. He had always wanted to be like a justice man. Fair, and strong. Always helping out and being kind. And he thought he had achieved that, lived up to the ideals Justice Man represented. Amira’s brutal rant had destroyed that self image.
There is a peculiar phenomena that occurs in the minds of mortals. They cannot live with a mental image that contradicts their actions. A curious peculiarity that came to be called cognitive dissonance. In the face of its onslaught there are only two options. Change one's mental image to fit their actions, or change one's actions to fit their mental image. I have seen the lives of countless mortals, and rare are those that commit to changing their actions. It's simply too easy to shift one's mental image. Yet there are still those that commit to change. Those are the ones that change the world.
Around Snug, the world seemed to spin, his very conception of the world shredded in the maelstrom of Amira’s biting words. How could he have been so blind to the naked truth? His people tormented Amira’s. His fathers rants came back in a new light, hateful instead of annoying. The world spun faster, a storm of pain struggling to destroy his innermost self.
In ages long past, that is where he would have fallen, the storm ripping his ego out of him, remolding it to preserve his sanity. He would have simply lacked the capacity and knowledge, through no fault of his own, to see any other way. But the world was different now. More free. Everybody had been granted the instruments of self-creation, the instruments of greatness.
In the eye of the storm Snug fought, desperately holding on to his idealized version of himself. Just when all seemed lost, a voice pierced the roaring vortex of memory.
“Fear not! Justice Man is here!”
The minds of children function in strange ways.
A man floated in front of Snug, clad in the form-fitting bodysuit of red and black, with a maroon cape twirling in the tempest.
“Justice Man!” Snug cried, “Save me!”
But Justice Man merely smiled down at Snug, as he was prone to do.
“You know I can’t. This is beyond me. Only you can save yourself.”
“But how?” Snug cried, “How can I be good if what Amira said is true? How can I be good if I’ve only caused her pain?”
“I understand the feeling. I’ve caused plenty of pain in my time. Remember when I fought Red Devil in Metan City.Remember what happened?”
Snug frowned, momentarily forgetting the storm as he dug through his memories. He was a dedicated fan! How could he forget! He recalled the dusty pages of the comic book, the struggle of reading while crammed next to 5 other boys. Then he knew,
“The orphanage!” he yelled, pointing at Justice Man, “The orphanage got destroyed! All those kids died!”
Justice Man winced,
“And their screams still haunt my dream. But what did I do?”
“You… You rebuilt the orphanage and you gave all of Vex Flare’s stolen money to them?”
“Yes, I broke something. So I fixed it. To the best of my abilities. I will never atone for the lives I reaped on that day, but I let the experience teach me. Make me better.”
Snug was silent.
“Remember what I told Bluejay when he failed to catch Jaguar Women?”
The words came to Snug like a buoy in the cold dark water, piercing the storm to offer glorious salvation.
“If you make a mistake,” Snug whispered, “Fix it.”
“Yes,” Justice Man replied, “We all make mistakes. What makes a hero is fixing those mistakes.”
Snug though long and hard on those words, the storm around him calming in the face of his budding epiphany.
“We have hurt Amira’s people,” he whispered, “But maybe… I could heal that. Prove that we are not bad. Meet rage with kindness.”
He smiled. Justice Man was gone, but Snug no longer needed him. He knew the way.
His sleep was peaceful.