“Enslavement”
Jason forced himself awake. It took him a few tries before he smashed the
snooze button. For nine semesters his
earliest class had been at 10:00 or 11:00.
Now, every Tuesday and Thursday he had to get up for a damned 8:00 A.M.
Lit 101 course. It was a stupid course
he needed to graduate, but one he had never found time to take in the
past. In what his parents hoped would be
his last semester, all the more acceptable afternoon classes conflicted with
his other needed courses. He and his
advisor spent two days juggling his schedule, but in the end he had to bite the
bullet of an 8:00 A.M class.
Jason sat on the edge of his bed and
rubbed his eyes. Last night’s poker game
hadn’t ended until almost 4:00, not that Jason minded; it gave him the chance
to win back the $40 bucks he lost to Mark Tuesday night. But it made getting up at 7:30 a bitch. He would like to just skip the class, but the
professor was a real bastard, giving surprise quizzes that counted for a good
portion of the grade.
#
As he lurched along the sidewalk towards
the English building, Jason passed a bulletin board filled with fliers for
local bands, pizza places, furniture for sale, roommates wanted, etc. He almost walked past it, but a flier stuck
on the end caught his attention. It was
just a sheet of white paper with the words, “Tear This Down!” written in purple
marker. Jason paused before it and
stared at it. He read through it several
times, but could not figure out the punch line.
He finally reached out and yanked it off
the board. There was nothing behind
it. Confused even more, Jason turned the
paper over. “Do you always do what you
are told?” was written in pencil on the back.
Jason was too tired to think about
it. He was going to crumple up the
sheet, when he decided to stick it back on the board. Sighing, he continued to class.
***
On one hand, this story touches on the
question of whether having to do something you don’t want to do – getting up
for an early class, going to work, paying taxes, etc. – counts as enslavement. True, I’ve never been flogged at work, but I
have had my life slowly sucked out. Does
that count?
Also, a question that has fascinated me
for years is, “How do you make someone think for themselves?” It’s difficult to
answer because if you make somebody do something, then did they do it
themselves? To explore this dilemma, in
the past I have put up fliers like the one in the story. I doubt anyone had an epiphany because of
them, but I can hope that maybe – maybe – I started someone down the path to …
something.
