Those Who Escape the Labyrinth

Those Who Escape the Labyrinth

Fis collapsed in a cloud of dust and tears. The hand clutched to his mouth stained yellow with his disgust and made wet with his sorrow. His hat had slid quietly off of his head, throwing powder off of the arid ground. Just beyond the hat was a spectacle not unique to the setting yet eternally new to Fis. The smell of rotting corpses and that of rotting people even more deceased permeated the dry air of the shadow-cast hall. The flickering light of tiny candles was just enough to see them, propped grotesquely against the flaking wall, some moaning deliriously; it was more than enough for Fis, though too small to cure the odor. In a heap not unlike the one before him, he wept for the living among dead and his own tortured existence. His tears glinted in the scant firelight before they turned to salt and vapor on his very cheeks.

How long had it been since he’d come to this black maze, this pitch labyrinth with more chambers than a Dark Heart? The cursed tangle of hallways and dark corridors wound through and around the Darkest of Hearts: the City of Suratrat.¹ High above the city was the single wall, the ceiling, the sky, the dome that enclosed everything. A barrier, thin as paper, yet more opaque than the blackest coal. To all inside, the wall was the gate of heaven. The dry petals that fell at five centimeters per second assured them that there was hope. Like lucky leaves they fell with the flakes to the ground, landing on hands and knees next to the wall, waiting for even a glint of light from beyond.² Sometimes eroded bits loosened by the toiling fingers of desperate hands would yield such a treasure. The resulting white light was more divine than the light of any candle, but no brighter. These tiny moments of holiness were enough to shame the whimpers of Tantalus, a benign torture to the hopeless.³

Fis jerked as a cold, starving hand touched his shoulder, rousing him from his melancholy state. Yor, his sister, stared callously with her deep-set eyes at the wretched, inhuman sight before them. Though she was five years younger by birth, here she was ten his elder. Fis had found her within these doleful corridors, a success worthy of credit but of little reward. Though reunited, neither was whole. Freedom from solitude could not recover a broken mind. Fis gave a nervous chuckle and a sob. His quivering finger indicated a small form under the dim orange glow of a fallen wick. There lay the remains of a lungfish, a monument to everything they had seen and everything that had once been.⁴ “Look at it,” Fis moaned. “It’s so pathetic. Even with all of its effort, the height of its function, it could not survive these barren halls of false hope. I’m sure it waited patiently for the promise of water, just as we have…”

Yor stared blankly at the brittle bones of the creature. At long last she spoke, “We have received that promise more than once within the city. We are not comparable to this noble creature that died ever perseverant. Leave it be.” Fis gazed at his sister in disbelief. She spoke of the fish as if it were a fallen comrade, like it was the emblem of virtue. Perseverance of this kind was no virtue to Fis. He pitied these things. He pitied his sister who had begun to join them. Had she forgotten light, the outside? No. She had made it her God. To her there was nothing else. She cared for nothing but that light. No candles. No brief gaps in the walls. No Fis. In his mind he understood all of this, even his own insignificance to her. He could never accept it.

Suddenly, Fis awoke to find himself parallel to the tiled floors. A stream of blood trickled from his forehead. He grasped his fallen hat and stood, ignoring the blood that now stained his sleeve. He glanced around. He recalled faintly that he had been following Yor, deep in thought. He began to panic. He recalled all the traps he and his sibling had avoided together during their journey out of Suratrat. Luck had been on their side until now. Fis felt along the walls, blind and desperate. He could not afford to lose his sister. He couldn’t allow her to be alone again. He stopped. He slumped under the candle resting softly above his head, illuminating his white fisherman’s cap.⁶ Dejected, he came to a cold realization: she would continue without pause. She had no issue going alone. Her God awaited her, and He would not forgive her for faltering. What did she think of this as? A trial? Some kind of holy tax? His clenched hand knocked flakes from the wall. He knew how she was. How she had changed in the bleakest chambers of the labyrinth, in Suratrat. She would wander through the darkness, taking every obstacle willingly, trusting that her efforts would be rewarded. She was no different from that pathetic fish she admired so. Fis looked up toward where he imagined the center of the dome was. “Nothing but black… can we ever escape the chambers of this Dark Heart? It seems anything can happen here.” ⁶ He craned his neck to see the candle above him. As he stared at its dim aura he felt his troubles seep away. It reassured him. He’d never noticed how wonderful these little beacons were, that they stood alone in darkness as the only constant source of guidance. These tiny aids were his only company now.

Fis reached out and lifted the candle from its resting place. Such a simple gesture would provide him light in the darkest stretches of the maze. Fis began to laugh. Despite the loss of his sister, he couldn’t help but be amused at how easy it was. All of the traps, the obstacles, the dead end hallways they had suffered could have been quelled by the smallest of things. Fis was beside himself with excitement. With confidence he rose from the dust, lifting the candle to his eyes. Darkness was scattered by the quivering flame he now held, and the path became clearer. Confidently he walked through the maze, finding the path far less tangled than he’d imagined. Warmth came to his face as he walked. His step quickened. The traps that had once been hazardous became no more threatening than a simple stumbling block. It wasn’t long before he reached the largest of chambers, lit by candles everywhere. He smiled. Across the room he recognized the edge of the dome once more, but this time the air smelled not of corpses, but of grass. A soft breeze murmured past his ears, carrying the scent of the sea. He surveyed the walls and noticed an inscription:

“Here lies the source of our utopian city, who, by his suffering, allowed us to live a fantasy for many years ⁷ Let the farthest point of his escape mark the end of our dream, and the edge of a far greater happiness. Our city has fallen to a choice. We were forced by conviction to join those who walked away from it, so long ago.”

He looked below the text and saw the skeleton of a boy no older than fifteen. “I see,” Fis sighed. “You were their candle, because they could not find their own.”⁸ He sat down next to the boy and waited. He felt comfortable next to this long-passed child; one who, despite the most terrible of fates, saw fit to escape it. Yor would soon come through that passage, and they would leave through this final gate together. With this in mind, Fis slept with a soft, reticent smile.

Fis awoke to a sudden weight on his chest. Confused, he sat up with a jolt. A ghastly thud next to him quickly brought his eyes to the floor. He stared in horror at what lay at his feet. As his shirt grew damp and warm with crimson spots, bits of hair clinging to his jacket, he began to quiver. “What has happened to you? Yor!? What have I waited for?” He cradled his sister in his arms and let his head go lame. Her eyes were swollen and bruised, her body riddled with cuts and on her left hand there was nothing one could call a finger.⁹ She had lost everything to get here. He began to sob, “It was so simple. Even with your small body, you could have grasped happiness to sustain you. Why put yourself through agony for happiness? Why?”

She looked up at him and closed her eyes apologetically, “It seems I’ve already found my peony bush. I rejected the small and it was there, always in front of me. Even now, it sits in the way of my happiness, that shrub. Those little candles, I see them now. The light no longer drowns them out.”

Fis laughed as he had before, his smile displaying a happiness twice betrayed by water, “It’s a bit late for that isn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” Yor returned the laugh. They sat there like that for a while, laughing to give strength to one another, to keep the light of the candles going. “Hey, Brother?”

“Yeah?”

“We can’t keep these candles lit forever.”

“Yeah…”

“We can light them again right? These small things? We can watch over them, can’t we?” ¹⁰

“We might. Not now. We have a door to open, Yor.”

She nodded in understanding. At long last, they stood. Fis approached the great door that many who remained in Suratrat would have called the door to heaven, and, with a light tug, opened it. Wind rushed in from outside to a glorious ocean. On the shore was a fishing boat that had long lost all functionality. They saw the sky and clouds that should have been so familiar but were to them a fantasy made real. Yor walked through the door, and as Fis closed it behind him, fell to her knees. Fis watched the final moments of his sister without pain. He had known she was at her limit, and her eyes were not used to light. Her right hand loosened, and in it were the crushed bones of the lungfish.¹¹

¹ This one is pretty obvious, so you’ll see it repeated a lot in the story. The heart of darkness in this is the labyrinth. God of Small Things talks about Heart of Darkness a lot. What I interpreted that as is the place that is, to outsiders, terrible. Also, in God of Small Things I think some characters find happiness, or at least define it for themselves in the heart of darkness. It was a place beyond society, beyond boundaries where everything was chaos. I think it was fitting for my character to realize his happiness within it.

² The edge of the labyrinth correlates with the river in God of Small Things. It serves as a sort of distraction, a way to occupy oneself. The river is also a kind of boundary line, not meant to be crossed. In my story, it goes a bit further than that. People make their lives about retrieving what’s on the other side, but they don’t expect to really get it, and, even when they are so close to being happy, they don’t seem to ever get any closer, eventually wearing away. It’s a horrible sight. I’d also like to note the speed of five centimeters per second. This is not something most readers will understand, but it’s a reference to my favorite story. Five centimeters per second is the speed at which cherry blossoms fall. In the story I’m referring to, the main character lives most of his life at this speed, living life like a falling petal. In other words, he simply waits and hopes life puts him where he wants to be instead of actually going for it. Thus, five centimeters per second could be called “the speed of longing.” In this context, these living corpses waste away, waiting to get what they want. They don’t behave as Fis and Yor , who seek happiness actively. This is also an indication of Aristotle’s idea that people who lack virtue and have given up their function, like these people, are never happy. They don’t seem to aim towards the highest good any longer.

³ Again, not something we covered in class, just a note in case some people don’t know. Tantalus was someone from Greek mythology who was punished by the gods by tempting his hand with fruit, but never letting him actually get it. Think tantalizing.

⁴ The lungfish is the strange eel-like fish mentioned in “God of Small Things” that can breathe air and survive without water for long periods of time. It is a survival mechanism. Yor associates with the lungfish here because she tries to live without happiness until she attains it. This is made clearer at the end of the story when she finally does make it out, but dies, having gone through far too much to get there. I personally thought “The Death of a Ball Turret Gunner” correlates well with this, in that the gunner woke up and died, or in other words, attained happiness only to lose it immediately. There is also a loose reference to Aristotle’s work when Fis mentions that he doesn’t see any virtue in this fish. It indicates that the fish does not meet the requirements of being happy, even though it’s supposedly at “the height of its function.” I’m also going to go ahead of myself and mention how Yor makes the light her god. It’s similar to the briefly mentioned spiel about replacing Marxism with Christianity (Roy 64). It simply indicates that she makes the outside world a goal at the end of an obstacle race. A goal so big that she can no longer see the small things that could so easily lead her to the happiness she sought.

⁵ The fisherman’s cap is sort of indirect. In God of Small Things the fishermen are mentioned very briefly and on a single occasion (Roy 30). They are mentioned in a passage about always having a sense of knowing where the sea is no matter where they are. Fis (yes, his name is Dutch for “Fish”) seems to have a constant awareness of how to obtain happiness and how to navigate to the sea that lies beyond it. I was hoping to hint at that by making him a fisherman. The hat is also reminiscent of “Waiting For Godot,” because Lucky can’t really think when his hat is off. When Fis puts it on, he comes to several realizations.

⁶ “Because she knew that when you travel to the Heart of Darkness [b] Anything can Happen to Anyone” (Roy 311) This is a light reference I used as an excuse to separate my characters abruptly. It also kind of hints at the nature of the place as it did in God of Small Things. It’s chaotic, unpredictable. The traps are placed without design and have a wide range of functions.

⁷ This is a pretty blatant reference to “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas” by Le Guin. In fact, you might say the entire setting is more about this story than God of Small Things. There are strong correlations. I have to mention the city in the center. Feel free to think of that as what was once Omelas after losing the child who they rested their happiness on (I changed the name of the city to Tartarus backwards, in the spirit of Le Guin’s naming process). My perspective is meant to indicate that those who walk away are more virtuous, and know true happiness. Happiness found within one’s self, to be more specific. Happiness dependent on other’s suffering is considered bad in this story.

⁸ The boy reference is inspired by a number of things. The first is the above-noted story by Le Guin, the second is The Giver. The reference implies that when the boy leaves the utopia its faults appear.

⁹ This is not a reference but I think it deserves clarification. The damage to Yor’s left hand is almost not even part of the theme. The left is considered the artistic side of people and, more generally, the part that creates and uses intuition. It’s also her dominant hand. This indicates that she relented towards the end, but it took a lot of pain and suffering for her to do so. She took the hard way and paid the price of her functionality. (If you like, you may reference that to Aristotle once again, but that is up to you)

¹⁰ This is meant to loop back into The God of Small Things. Yor demonstrates her appreciation for these small things, the candles (mentioned several times before this note) that preserved and guided their happiness out of the Heart of Darkness. How they were, in the end, more important to her than her final goal. She wasn’t able to reach that goal until she paid attention to the small things. The whole conversation here can be considered my own prudish version of Estha and Rahel’s reunion (Now incest-free!!!).

¹¹ These last lines are open to a lot of interpretation. After hearing the thoughts of many people on this, I think it best to leave this fairly open ended. The only thing I want to make clear is that the lungfish has not suddenly become virtuous, it is dead. The boat is definitely an allusion to Aristotle’s “highest function” idea, but not necessarily a negative one. It depends highly on interpretation. Finally, both Fis and Yor were able to reach happiness. The only difference is that Fis didn’t use everything he had to attain it. Because Yor became happy, Fis was not hurt by her death, even though, like the ever-fasting protagonist in “Hunger Artist,” she suffered pointlessly for this end.

God-Is-Gracious

God-Is-Gracious*

Two-to-the-tenth is ten-twenty-four.

At this thought, Bradley’s shoulders shuddered as he heaved a great, tear-punctuated gasp and let it out in racking sobs. He hated that thought, hated it because he didn’t really mind it at all.

Katie looked on, trying desperately not to be embarrassed for his tears, trying desperately to erase from her mind the conception of males as the strong, rational ones. She averted her eyes, looked at the clock. 10:24. To her it was just a time. Hours followed by minutes, and nothing more. Soon this night, the heart of darkness¹ for them both, would pass.

One thousand miles and twenty-four hours later, they stood facing the casket. Each had a daisy pinned on ner² shirt, to match the many daisies in the arrangements –placed to mask the smell of death, and so she’d have something nice to see and smell³ - around the open casket. He and she were separate black pillars, bearing the same weight. He paced. His thoughts were lofty and dark, higher than the rest of the mourners’. Hers were not. She thought of what was expected: of love, of loss, of emptiness, of unity. She was aptly named and born: ‘Pure’, beneath the winking stars of Virgo. She watched Gregory-Degory, and tears slid down her cheeks as he gazed into the waxen face.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m having a wonderful time.”

She sat on the closed toilet seat, only a little self-conscious of her bra-less breasts, their shape clearly visible beneath her pajama shirt. He paced before her in the long, pink bathroom, the rhythm of his steps intricately balanced with the flow of their voices. They spoke, as they so often did, of Life, of the Universe, of Everything⁴. Their conversation drifted easily between topics - family, death, and gayness as obvious undercurrents - and provided some much-needed catharsis for both. They laughed a lot. There’d be plenty of time to sleep tomorrow.

* * *

Greg held his dad as he cried. Held his dad because he needed his mom. He needed his mom to make it better. What needed bettering was the fact of her not being there to better it.

“I got the brown-socks blues in the morning. I got the brown-socks blues at night…”

Amy, her soft, feminine laugh and cascading golden hair, her gentle, young-motherly smile, wrestled with Greg on the periwinkle-blue carpet. The countless tea-sets watched from the wide, white windowsill as she exerted a huge, playful effort to pin his chest beneath the weight of her body. Only she realized that this wild game was her last before she was to become the Matriarch, the last of her days as the Daughter-of-Her-Mother.

…when you are finished recording, you may hang up, or press one for more options. Beep. Hey Am’, it’s Greg. Just calling to make sure you all got home safely, and to see how you’re doin’. (Sigh. I sure do miss her, Am’.)⁵ Gi’me a call if you get the chance. Love you.

* * *

He spread his seven-year-old legs wide. “Come on, Isabelle! A bridge! Hurry, crawl under!” he said smilingly, with a chuckle in his throat. She scampered across the room, and hastened under the bridge, smiling her beautiful three-year-old smile. She was meant to play, and it made her happy⁶. Her eyes sparkled; her little black-and-white-checked funeral dress crinkled. “A double bridge!” encouraged Miles, pressing his open palms to the floor. They repeated the charade, in need, like everyone, of some relief from all this black-clad severity.

Amy led them to the kneeler. Miles knelt. He understood. They thought he wouldn’t – he’s smart, but simply too young⁷. But it was his youth that let him see. His mind was as yet unclouded by pain, and fear, and guilt, and he saw no reason to fear Not Being. Or Being elsewhere. He could always direct Car Wars Elsewhere. But he was a Little Man, and he imitated the dark looks of the Uncles.

Isabelle stood on the kneeler. She gazed at Grammy, that body which used to grunt and moan but which was now quiet. It looked nice, wrapped in that soft, white blanket. She knew it was soft – she felt it. And then she turned and took a daring jump from the lofty kneeler, smiling with satisfaction at the sound of her tiny patent-leather shoes smacking the tastefully carpeted floor.

“Rabbit-Rabbit.”

* * *

There were lots of smallish dim rooms. And lots of oldish nice people inside of them. Not many open seats, though. Katie and Bridget made their way around the restaurant, checking each room for two empty chairs, not wanting to face the prospect of making individual small-talk with distant friends of distant relatives. Ah, so you’re Greg’s. Which one is Greg, again? Well, how lucky you are to have had Jeanne as a Grandmother. She was a wonderful woman. It was a beautiful mass. Maybe if we stand in the middle and try to look helpless, someone will invite us to sit down. If we’re really lucky, maybe they’ll not even ask whose daughters we are. Oh, there’s a coupl’a chairs, over there. Must’ve missed that room, somehow.

They sat down, smiling at the oldish people at the table, who inclined their heads with friendly disinterest. “Napkins on your lapkins.” They carefully cut small coldish bites of filet mignon. They chatted, and each gazed distractedly at the tasteful art behind the other, both of which portrayed dignified, rustic men at long, oaken tables, with various household items scattered about. Katie and Bridget were glad when Brad came in, hands in pockets, looking content. He sat down, and followed the girls’ eyes to the art.

“Where d’you figure the guys in that painting are? Not Earth, obviously. The lighting outside the window is definitely not terrestrial.”

“Well, yeah,” said Katie. “I guess it’s probably artificial. I suppose they’re living underground. They’ve been banished.”

“For Suspicious Table Activities. Involving a teapot, a book, and a tilted basket.” Brad continued.

“And now they’re plotting their return to the surface.”

“Yes, by building a fish-powered time-machine.”

“Well, that much is obvious. But their supply of fish seems to be running short.”

“Their only method of obtaining fish is through a trapdoor which leads through the center of the Earth. To China.”

“Specifically, the South China Sea.”

“But the trapdoor is being guarded by those other guys, in that painting. They’re the Enemy.”⁹

Bridget laughed along, but they all knew she wasn’t really a part of the story. Katie wanted to feel bad for being so exclusive, but she didn’t. Brad, the individual, who would exist inside himself indefinitely, all alone, needed Katie. Katie knew his secrets. Bridget didn’t even know he had any. Katie - Pure One - liked it that way.

* * *

Peace be with you. And also with you. We lift up our hearts. We lift them up to the Lord. Let us give thanks to the Lord, our God. It is right to give Him thanks and praise. All powerful and ever-living God, we do well always and everywhere to give you praise. Look not on our sins, but look on the faith of your people, as we lift this joyful hymn of praise. Holy, holy, holy Lord…

Uncle Father John held aloft the blessed bread and wine. The others responded, and felt special. Though they stood on the periwinkle-blue carpet, beside the wide white windowsill with the teapots looking on, they prayed the same prayers as the people at mass in Rome, or in Louisville. They were a proud family of Catholics (never mind that some in their midst had their doubts, and others among them rejected the faith completely). The big things - like God (or lack thereof) and faith (or lack thereof) - didn’t matter right now. The small things alone – the “Amen”s and “Peace of Christ”s – mattered immensely¹⁰.

* * *

Amy cried. Her shoulders heaved, and she sniffed with unwittingly feminine sniffles. She turned to Erin, and Erin also cried. Her nose quickly grew pink and shiny, and she wiped at her tears with the heel of her perfect, hand-model hand. They held each other, woman and girl. Aunt and niece. Sister and sister. Amy couldn’t figure why she was so sad. Why should she be, when her mother was really no deader now than she’d been for the past six years? Erin didn’t know, but couldn’t have been more pleased that beautiful Aunt Amy had had to ask. Had cared enough to weep on her shoulder. Pray that I may have the strength to let you be my servant, too.

Then Amy had to go cry with her dad. She held her Dad because she needed her mom.

* * *

They got back into the steely grey limousines, feeling perfectly literary in their long black coats and tear-stained cheeks.

Each had had the idea in the back of ner head for hours, if not days. But Brad said it. Aunt Amy approved, and it was done. The windows went down with a soft automatic buzz, and the arms were extended into the cool sunny morning, and the Harris wave began. Three steely limos of family members waved slowly back and forth at the blue tent, which was blue for no real purpose (Brad had asked the representative from the funeral home), and kept waving all the way down the steep hill. This time no one wished they would drive faster, no one wished for a corner to turn, and all waved until well after the tent became a blue dot upon the green hill and disappeared from sight. It was certain now: Jeanne Harris Gibbons – God-is-Gracious – was gone.

________________________________________________________________________

*Mr. Kalb, as I think you will see this story is very personal and mostly non-fiction. I know that a lot of it will not make sense to readers. However, I did as you said and wrote it the way I wanted it to be written, though I do think that there are some significant connections to the book. I hope that you can take my word for the fact that there is more meaning behind some of this than you might be able to see, and that I wasn’t necessarily trying to allow the audience in on everything. Thanks.

The central structure and tone of this story have some similarities with The God of Small Things. My over-arching purpose in this story is to examine the relationships between the members of this family using moments from the time of the grandmother’s death. I use the filter of this occasion to look closely at some specific relationships using short tendrils of thought and description, which gives it a tone similar to Roy’s. In this story, I focus particularly on the sister-brother relationships, as Roy clearly does in her examination of Estha and Rahel’s family.

1. In The God of Small Things, the Heart of Darkness is the History House, the place where, to some degree, the story began and ended. GoST culminates with Ammu and Velutha making love near the Heart of Darkness, and the night in my story has the same sort of significance (don’t worry, there’s no incest): it is the beginning of one story, and the end of another.

2. “ner” is a pronoun invented by Brad Gibbons and myself, and means “his/her” or “his and her”. Obviously, the English language needs this addition – I simply couldn’t make this sentence flow without it. (Yeah, I’ll change it for portfolios.)

3. In Happiness, by Mary Lavin, it is desperately important that Mother bring daffodils to her dying husband. She wants him to be able to “smell them, and feel them, and look and look!” (Lavin 39) The daisies in this story have a similar urgency: the stench of death must be covered, and the grandmother must have flowers to smell in her grave.

4. This is unrelated to stuff we read in class. Just some Douglas Adams for you.

5. In The God of Small Things, a recurring idea is that people only discuss the Small Things - things that are easy to talk about - and leave the Big, important, difficult things unsaid. The parentheses here are meant to imply that the Big Things were left unsaid, but even more than that, that the Big Things didn’t need saying.

6. Aristotle says that when one is performing their proper function, they can attain happiness (Aristotle 7). A similar idea is used here: Isabelle is playing, as she ought to do in accordance with her function, and so she is happy.

7. While not directly related to anything we read in class, this reminded me of something Elaina said during discussion – about how children aren’t fully human, and don’t have the ability to recognize true happiness.

8. Estha and Rahel have an uncanny and unexplained ability to communicate with such ease and to play off one another’s ideas so effectively that it almost seems as though they can read one another’s thoughts. I am trying to convey a similar idea of my characters’ understanding of one another - they need few words to go off together into an imagined world.

9. This is, of course, another reference to the Big Things going unsaid, and of the Small Things being of utmost importance to keep the characters alive and sane.

The God of Small Things

Great Books: The God of Small Things Paper

John Tamplin

Enola Gay

I stepped through the fallout,

I saw the destruction wrought

By my Radioactive arch-enemy,

What did you do?

Did you maintain order in a world gone wrong?

Or was it just a “graveyard without a tombstone standing?”

Did you re-order chaos,

Or did you just make things worse?

And then I saw the headlines,

My dear Enola Gay,

You dropped a Little Boy

On the city of Hiroshima,

And a Magic Mushroom sprouted,

And 140,000 died.

But back home there was a New World Order,

Oh how glorious!

“You can come out now! You need not worry!”

The whole world could step into the radiation,

See the sunlight after a war of darkness.
The Skeleton:

Question: Does keeping order justify wrongdoing?

Answer One: The maintenance of order always justifies wrongdoing. If the wrongdoing is done to maintain order in a state for the well-being of many as opposed to few, the action is justified. The incident where Inspector Thomas Mathew taps Ammu’s breasts (Roy 9, 246) was done as a responsibility to the state. Thomas Mathew is a policeman, whose job is to maintain order within the state. By personally violating Ammu, he saves the town of Ayemenem from uproar about the situation between Ammu and Velutha and salvages the family’s name. If Ammu has accepted the fruits of the state for all of her life, she has a responsibility to obey the state. You should not expect “such license against your country and its laws that if we try to put you to death in belief that it is right to do so, you on your part will try your hardest to destroy your country and us its Laws in return.” (Plato 61). Ammu expects this license. “She developed a lofty sense of injustice and the mulish, reckless streak that develops in Someone Small who has been bullied all their lives by Someone Big. She did exactly nothing to avoid quarrels and confrontations. In fact, it could be argued that she sought them out, perhaps even enjoyed them.” (Roy 172-3). Inspector Thomas Mathew acts out of responsibility, in an “attempt to instill order in a world gone wrong.” (Roy 246). As an agent of the law, Inspector Thomas Mathew’s proper function is to exercise the will of the state and maintain order. According to Socrates, citizens have a responsibility to their state. “Both in war and in the lawcourts and everywhere else you must do whatever your city and your country commands, or else persuade it in accordance with universal justice.” (Plato 61).

Answer Two: Wrongdoing is never justified by maintaining order. If the “the good of man is an activity of the soul in conformity with excellence or virtue,” (Aristotle 8), Inspector Thomas Mathew’s actions toward Ammu are not justified because they are not virtuous (assuming that personally violating a woman is not virtuous). According to Aristotle, “[the tyrant’s] aim is to break the spirit the spirit of their subjects.” (Aristotle 4 from By and About Aristotle) By forcing Estha to accuse Velutha, Baby Kochamma is acting like a tyrant (who is by definition not good). “If you want to save her, all you have to do is go with the Uncle with the big meeshas. He’ll ask you a question. One question. All you have to do is say ‘Yes.’ Then we can all go home. It’s so easy. It’s a small price to pay.” (Roy 302). By forcing Estha to corroborate her story, she directly leads to the breaking of Estha’s spirit when he refuses to speak for the remainder of his life in the book. Her attempt to retain order in and respect for her family by hurting Velutha is not justified. Another situation where wrongdoing in order to maintain order was when Ammu told Rahel, “When you hurt people, they begin to love you a little less. That’s what careless words do. They make you love people a little less.” (Roy 107). Ammu is trying to maintain order (by maintaining the obedience of her children), and in turn hurts them more.

Answer Three: Wrongdoing is never even performed to maintain order. According to Aristotle, “It may be said that every individual man and all men in common aim at a certain end which determines what they choose and what they avoid. This end, to sum it up briefly, is happiness and its constituents.” (Aristotle 6). This is not to say that happiness is the highest good. “To call happiness the highest good is perhaps a little trite.” (Aristotle 7). According to Aristotle, all actions are performed for happiness. Therefore, the incident with the Orangedrink Lemondrink Man (Roy 98) was only performed for the happiness of the Orangedrink Lemondrink Man and the incident with Inspector Thomas Mathew was only performed for the happiness of Inspector Thomas Mathew. Accordingly, “when the dust had settled and he had the paperwork organized, inspector Thomas Mathew congratulated himself for the way it had all turned out.” (Roy 246). Just because these characters actions are evil doesn’t mean that they are not trying to be happy. Therefore, actions aren’t judged on the basis of good or bad, just whether or not their goal is happiness. Rahel attempts to find happiness by writing a list of who she loves most. “Rahel’s “list” was an attempt to order chaos. She revised it constantly, torn forever between love and duty. It was by no means a true gauge of her feelings.” (Roy 144). Rahel’s list is just a way for Rahel for Rahel to find some happiness in her horrific world, even though she may be acting cruelly just by having the listen the first place.

Another Small Price

“Mommy, Mommy!” the voice yelled. A small, fuzzy figure in the distance was gaining on her.
“Where are we going?” she questioned.
“It’s going to be fine sweetie, don’t worry,” she comforted, “We’ll be safe.” The deep blue eyes gazed up at her and said in a small meek voice, “Okay.” There was a flash and a storm of voices and confusion and then, the screams.
“Mommy where are we going?!? Where are they taking us?!? Don’t let them!!!”
“Lilieeee!!!” she screamed flailing her arms to reach for the little child.
Then another flash, and an abyss of nothingness 1 came into view.
“Corinne, Corinne, wake up!” a distant voice said.
“Corinne, you’re dreaming again!” a slightly closer voice said.
“What, no, where is she?!?” she shouted.
“Calm down, you’re only dreaming again,” soothed Janine. She was a tall, thin woman with short red hair. Her eyes gazed down at Corinne with a sympathetic look.
“I’ll get you some more sleeping medication,” said the nurse as she hurried away from the scene she had witnessed so many times before.
“What’s happening? I want to see her, I want to see Lily!” Corinne demanded with a pounding pulse.
“Honey, we’ve been over this before, there’s no Lily. You don’t have a daughter, you never did. Don’t you remember any of this? No of course you don’t. It was a stupid question,” said Janine apologetically.
“No, I saw her, we were running, something was happening, she looked so pale and weak. I tried to pick her up and run, but I wasn’t strong enough…” she sunk back into her pillow, “But where are we running?” The sound of a pressure lock being broken hissed, and the nurse stepped inside the door.
“Here’s your meds. You poor thing, haven’t been able to get a decent amount of sleep since the Incident. You’re not the only one though. I’m telling you, I must have to medicate half of the survivors every night. Post traumatic stress disorder, hallucinations, and the whole lot. A few of ‘em even feel guilty because they survived! They shouldn’t be ashamed, what they did was nothing short of heroic 2…”
“Thank you nurse, that’ll be enough now,” Janine dismissed her, “Here, take these, they’ll help you sleep.”
“What’s going on? Why am I here? What’s the Incident?” Corinne questioned incessantly.
“You’re here because we’re all that’s left. All that’s left of humanity. The Incident was, is,” she paused, “complex. Now why don’t you take your meds and get some rest. We’ll go get your memory adjusted 3 tomorrow. They finally approved of the new procedure. It has worked wonders for many of the other nightmare sufferers here. I’ll even let you see your G.W.C.F. after the procedure to ensure you that you don’t have a daughter. Give yourself some peace of mind. You’re probably just having hallucinations like most of the other survivors…” Janine continued to rattle off though after thought.
“No, I don’t want my memory adjusted, I know I keep having this dream for a reason,” Corinne insisted.
“I figured you’d say that. It’s what you say every night. Yeah, there’s a whole lot of reason there, try randomly firing neurons under extreme stress and you’ll get your reason. No matter, if you don’t do something about these hallucinations soon, they will4. You’re needed back at work, back at what you loved, back where you belong 5. They’ve become concerned about you. I’ve already sent in the approval forms to them, if all goes well, your life will be back to normal by tomorrow.”
“No, it…” Corinne’s eyelids began to droop as the medication took its effect. Sleep. Darkness 6, quiet, and silent sleep. Warm and peaceful, secure sleep 6. Nothing to interrupt her blissful dreams. No nightmares, no screaming voices, no short brown haired figures with deep river 8 blue eyes. Sleep.
~~~~
“Wakey, wakey!” Janine said cheerily as the curtain in the infirmary was pulled back. The dull overhead lights buzzed and whined. The nurse was standing next to Janine in her pristine white uniform.
“What’s going on?” Corinne asked once again.
“Did you sleep better last night?” Janine inquired as she shrugged off the previous question.
“Yes, but what’s going on?” Corinne asked a little more insistently.
“No need to be rude. You’re going for your M.A. today. Life will be so much better for you now. The others who have had the procedure have eliminated their hallucinations and in most cases, don’t require medication anymore.” Janine replied pleasantly.
“Now dear, roll up your sleeve. This will relax you while you go through the process. It takes awhile, and some people get anxious, so this helps them quite a bit,” comforted the nurse. She sank the sharp silver point into the meat of Corinne’s arm. The pearly thin liquid slid into the needle flowing into her veins. A haze, and then a state of nonchalant feelings overcame Corinne. They walked down the immaculately clean white hallways to a door. Inside there was a complex machine and a man in surgeon scrubs, neither of which Corinne recognized. Cold suction cups9 attached to her forehead and scalp as a gentle voice told her to relax. Then came the flood. Thoughts and memories flew past her eyes until the endless reel came to rest on the dream. The same dream she had been having for years now. The same dream she had last night. Blank. Deleted. Gone. A flash of darkness permeated the nothingness, and now she was back in her chair with electrodes hooked to her head. Voices whispered in the background. Tranquility swept over her. Sleep.
~~~~
“So did you sleep well last night?” Janine pried hopefully, “Here’s the G.W.C.F.10 I promised you. It’s everything you wanted to know about you, I guess.”
“Okay, thanks,” replied Corinne.
“After you’re satisfied, I’ll take you to your quarters. You haven’t been in there in, well, almost three years now. Ever since the dreams started. Anyway, good luck. I’ve got to get to work, which by the way you’ll be starting soon. They said you get another week off, but no more than that. You’re needed badly in the labs.”
“When can I see my room?” Corinne inquired.
“How about tomorrow? I’ll pencil you in for lunch and then we’ll find out about the mysterious life of Corinne. Ooh, scary,” Janine said mockingly as she exited through the pressure lock.
Corinne looked down at the manila file that had been handed to her. It read Sonreir, Corrine at the top.

Government Worker Citizenship File-Official

Last Name: Sonreir First Name: Corinne Middle Name: Marina

DOB: 4/7/29 Sex: F

Date of entry into service: 10/12/45 Criminal record: N/A

Address: 1112 Willowbrook Ln. Zip Code: 59042

City/State: Vista Verde, CA Phone #: 259-5555
Cell phone #: 554-9200

Father’s Name: James Andrew Sonreir Mother’s Name: Robyn Falden-Sonreir

Married: N Children: N

Education:
Stanford University, BA in Biology, 2047
Johns Hopkins Medical School MD/PhD Immunology and
Infectious Disease 2051

Departments of Employment:
CDC New Pathogens Initiative
USAMRIID Bioterrorism Response Unit

Insurance Beneficiaries/ Next of Kin:
James and Robyn Sonreir

There was no mention of a daughter, or even a husband for that matter. Surely she would’ve listed them as her insurance beneficiaries, as her next of kin. Like Janine said, Lily had never existed. Corinne felt sick. She laid down upon her infirmary cot and gazed up at the dark blue ceiling. It had been painted with stars. “Probably to have a calming effect on patients,” Corinne thought. She jerked her head toward the door as the pressure lock hissed open. Janine walked in.
“Did you find out everything? See, I told you there was never a daughter. I’ve known you forever, and you were never married, never had kids…”
“Yeah, I guess so. What exactly happened that landed us here? I mean, there’s no windows, everything is pressurized, what was the Incident?” Corinne asked.
“Well, it’s…complicated. You used to work for the CDC’s New Pathogens Initiative. Do you remember that?” she questioned hopefully.
“No, not really, but I read it in my file. What did I do for a living? Was I some sort of microbiologist or something?”
“Similar. You were an infectious disease specialist in the unit. Actually, the best in the unit. You pretty much ran the show. The team was working on a variant of aerosolized smallpox, trying to find a vaccine for genetically modified strains and treatments to prevent its spread if it ever got out. We planned on another country developing it to use against us. Long story made short, you all had a traitor amongst your team. He stole 12 vials and sold them to some jihadists in Saudi Arabia. Next thing we know, your little experimental bug was popping up all over the globe. Not even the original smallpox vaccines rendered full immunity. It spread like wildfire across the U.S. Quarantines of entire cities were declared, but that wasn’t enough. Chaos ensued, and eventually what was left of the government moved underground. Away from the people. Away from disease and death. They brought their only hope with them: the scientists who created this monster were commissioned to destroy it. Eventually everyone who was in a government office was brought down here. Estimates of death in our country alone had reached fifteen million last month. We haven’t heard from the surface since.”
“My God…” Corinne said as she took a seat.
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad up there, but everything’s fine down here. We’ve got water tapped from aquifers, domed greenhouses with artificial sunlight; it’s almost a whole city underground! But I guess you can see why we need you back at work, don’t you? We need a vaccine. How else are we going to reach the surface without risking exposure and death?” Janine inquired morbidly.
“Okay, well you can show me the lab tomorrow and my room too,” Corinne said optimistically.
“I’ll do that. The sooner life gets back to normal the better for you. Get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow might be a long day,” The sound of Janine’s pager interrupted their conversation, “Okay, well, I’ll see you later, got to run!”
~~~~
Corinne awoke the next morning refreshed. There had been no morbid nightmares, no screaming, and no turmoil in her dreams. No little girl with the river blue eyes.
She ate her breakfast and proceeded to read over her G.W.C.F. again until noon. Nothing unusual, nothing to suggest anything should be missing from her life down here. After all, her work had been her life. There was no mention of a family, of a child. Her parents were most certainly dead by now if the sickness hadn’t gotten them already. She wondered if they had missed her, if they had wondered where she was when the chaos broke out, if they had even cared. The memories of her life before were few and vague. She could recall the memory of coming here. She was escorted in an army jeep with a bunch of other scientists in lab coats with backpacks and duffle bags in their laps. Clinging to the only possessions they were allowed to bring with them. None of them looked happy. The familiar sound of the pressure lock played in the background as a voice said, “Corinne.” She snapped out of her daze and saw that Janine was there.
“Oh, hi,” Corinne responded.
“Are you ready to go?” Janine asked.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
They exited the pressure lock with a swoosh of fresh cold air and entered the white hallway. There were probably fifteen doors on either side of the hall, all with identical keypads and pressure locks. “Here’s your room, it’s 112 on the left. The PIN number is on this piece of paper…” A tone sounded from Janine’s pager, “Sorry, I’ve got to run again, but I’ve got a lab assistant to show you where you’ll be working later. See ya,” Janine scurried down the hall towards her office.
Corinne walked to the door that read 112 in silver numbers above the keypad and entered the PIN number. The pressure lock released and the door slid open to reveal a decently sized room. The past three years of her life lay preserved amongst the cluttered floor. There was a small bed with purple sheets and pillows and a matching silvery-chrome nightstand with a vase of fake flowers11 in it. She entered the room to explore it more deeply. Around the corner there was a closet and sitting room with a couch, chair, and coffee table with a fish bowl on it. Inside, a single, somber goldfish swam in circles12. Someone must have been caring for it while she was gone. A knock at the door announced the arrival of the lab assistant. He was a short and scrawny man in his early thirties.
“Janine said to show you around the lab. We’re so happy to have you back. Progress hasn’t been made in months. My name’s John by the way,” The man said politely.
“Thanks, I’m Corinne, or Dr. Sonreir, or whatever you guys call me,” she replied as she followed him down the hallway.
He went around the lab and showed her rows of vials and virus samples that she had been working on. It jogged part of her memory, the working part. The other part felt dead to her. All the unfamiliar faces asked how she was and when she would be returning. “Soon,” was all she could say.
“John, can I go back to my room now? I’m feeling a bit queasy.”
“Sure, are you okay though, do you want me to take you to the infirmary?” he said, concerned.
“No, I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.” Corinne said calmly. She walked back to room 112 and plopped herself down onto the bed. How could she not remember any of those people? Surely some were her friends. Why couldn’t she remember? She was going to find out somehow. Corinne ambled over to the lonely fish that swam in circles. She stared at his endless loops around the bowl and wondered why he kept swimming. He wasn’t getting anywhere, yet he kept swimming13.
The next day Corinne started back to work. She was happier than she had been in weeks. The work took her mind off things and kept the empty space in her heart from echoing across her soul. She was doing her job and doing it well. They had made more progress within that week than in the past two months. This really was her calling.14
Yet there was still that void, that hole, that itchy wound that longed to be scratched and refused to be ignored, and wanted to be bandaged and mended and taken care of. The itching wouldn’t cease until then.15
As Corinne was walking home that night, she noticed a sign on the wall beside the lab door with a quote on it. It read, “Education is an ornament in prosperity, and a refuge in adversity.”16 She looked at the sign for a second and then quickly glanced away to walk back to her room for dinner.
Later, sitting in her quarters, Corinne was thinking about the sign. She had been taking comfort in her job, in her education, but it couldn’t give her everything. The refuge she was enjoying wouldn’t last forever. It was temporary and with holes in it. There was still a gaping hole at the bottom of her boat, and it was going to sink quickly if not patched soon.17 She gazed at the ceiling and then at the wall. Her eyes followed the shadows to the curtains on the holographic window down to the coffee table with the fish bowl on it. It was almost cruel how confined he was to his bowl, yet he knew nothing else18. He swam in circles, no other fish, and no dreams, isolated and alone. She felt sorry for the poor creature.
~~~~
Life continued for Corinne, but with no purpose. What would she do when the vaccine and cure was found? Would she go search for her family? If she had any family left, and that depended on her memory. Her days became filled with despair and futility. She was going to help saving a multitude of people (if there were any left to save). So why was she so miserable? What had been cut out of her, what fit in that hole that nothing could fill, that nothing seemed to fit in?
She busied herself for the rest of the day cleaning her room. A vaccine had finally been found after 2 weeks of her return to the lab. Coincidentally, it was John who had made the breakthrough after he had reviewed her research. Everyone was saved. They could return. They could save what was left. The government announced that the scientist team would be the first to surface and administer the vaccine to as many as possible. Corinne dropped her copy of the report onto the floor. She watched as it fluttered downward and came to rest under her bed. Corinne sighed and reached her hand down underneath the bed to probe around for the paper. Instead, she grabbed something rough and cloth-like. It was heavy and took considerable effort to heave it out. It soon became apparent that the foreign object was a backpack. Corinne unzipped it and pulled out a pair of moldy socks. “Lovely,” she said sarcastically to herself. The air became dry and suffocating19. “Where had all this come from?” she wondered as she dug through the bag. A pair of socks, a toothbrush, and two white Polos with CDC emblems on them appeared from the bag. Corinne unzipped the next pocket and saw an empty water bottle, a first aid kit and then a silver corner of something at the very bottom of the bag. She plunged her arm down into the depths of the pack to retrieve it. She didn’t hear the pressure lock hiss threateningly behind her.
Corinne’s arm withdrew a small picture frame. She flipped it over and saw her. The little girl with the river blue eyes, the girl called Lily stared back at her. She was her hope, her love, the cause of her four years of madness, and the reason for her infinite joy now20. She had found what had been lost, what had been cut out. The wound had healed. She could jump out of the sinking boat and swim now, swim with freedom and hope.
“What are you doing?!?” Janine appeared behind her.
“I think a better question would be: what are you doing? You lied to me. I did have a daughter. Look, she’s right there!” Corinne jabbed her finger towards the silver frame.
“Perhaps. Where did you find this bag? Who gave it to you?” Janine asked alarmed.
“Stop playing games with me. Where’s my daughter, where’s Lily?” Corinne insisted on an answer.
“Where did you get that bag, and then I’ll answer your question.” Janine said patiently.
“Under the bed. Now, where’s my daughter?” Corinne said intently.
“Hmm…interesting that they missed that. If you really must know, she’s dead, Corinne. Lily is dead. She’s been gone for four years now. The sickness took her,” Janine said coldly.
“What? No, I saw her, in my dreams she’s still alive and she’s being taken from me!21 Explain that!” Corinne was shouting now.
“That may be true, but she was sick. Do you think we could’ve allowed people who were sick in here? Do you know what the close quarters would’ve done? We would have all been dead within two weeks! Besides, we only had enough room for government officials and people like you who could find a solution to the problem. Scientists, architects, engineers, economists, people who could rebuild society once the sickness had taken its course or a cure was found.22”
“So you decided to let everyone else die?!? What about all the other people down here? What about their families, did you kill them too?” Corinne asked hysterically.
“It was a small price to pay for our preservation.23 No, they all had families, but they recognized the need for their expertise. They knew that their country needed them. Their country came first. They were willing to sacrifice everything to save us, to save civilization.” Janine said with a calm voice.
“Did I agree to this sick idea too?” Corinne asked disgustedly.
“Yes, you did. You left your daughter with your parents and came to work here. She died a few months later from smallpox. You made an honorable sacrifice, just like the rest.”
“Lies.” Corinne spat.
“Fine, have it your way, you coward. We had to drag your sorry ass down here. Your daughter had become ill and you wanted to stay on the surface and work on the cure. We made you come down here. The risk of your exposure meant that the cure could be put off for decades. That was a risk we weren’t willing to take. We let you correspond with her via videophone for a few months until her death. That’s when you went into a coma and that hallucinatory amnesia for three years. I was your psychologist. Satisfied? There’s the truth for you.” Janine said with finality.
Pure pandemonium filled the room. The sound of the pressure lock opening hissed through the air as clanking boots crossed the threshold. Janine’s thumb rested on a small red button on her pager.
By the time Corinne had realized what happening it was over. There was nothingness again, but it wasn’t an abyss of nothingness. The air was moist and cool. There was light, and the faint smile of a little girl with river blue eyes. Infinite joy24.
~~~~
Janine ordered for Corinne to be made an example of. Her story of insanity and then disloyalty and treason was to be told to a select few, who Janine knew would spread the news throughout the city. She didn’t care. Corinne’s life was another small price to pay. It was the cost of living.25 After all, they would be out soon. A cure had been found, and there was a world left to revive, a state left to take over, people ready to obey, to put the State’s needs first26.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1 This refers to the person shaped hole in the universe that Arundhati Roy uses so many times in The God of Small Things.

2 This is linked to later in the story when Janine is talking about how they all made honorable sacrifices for the state. This follows along the lines of Socrates’ thinking in “Crito.” They were willing to do anything for the state, including sacrificing their families. “Do you not realize that you are bound to respect and placate the anger of your country than your father’s anger? That if you cannot persuade your country you must do whatever it orders…” (Plato 61).

3 This procedure is very similar to how Estha and Rahel bury their bad memories. They can’t function with the constant pain, so they try to push it away to the back of their mind. Estha copes by not talking. “It wasn’t an accusing, protesting silence as much as sort of an estivation, a dormancy, the psychological equivalent of what lung fish do to get through the dry season, except that for Estha, the dry season looked as though it would last forever.” (Roy 12). He gradually stops talking, as there are more bad memories to bury, just as the death of Lily was too much for Corinne, and caused her to slip into the dream-like state for 3 years.

4 “They will” refers to the State’s needs. The government needs her back at work and expects her to make sacrifices in order to ensure the survival of the state, even if they have to force her to make those sacrifices. This is also what Plat o advocates at the end of “The Cave Allegory.” He essentially says that those who are best fitted for the job should be forced to take on that role regardless of their wants or needs.

5 This is another Aristotle function reference. Corinne should be happier at work, doing what she loves and what she is good at. You can link Aristotle’s function ideas to Velutha in The God of Small Things. Velutha is never allowed to reach his highest function, which would probably be that of an engineer. Instead, he is held back because of his class, which might give some credence to Aristotle when he says, “From this definition of happiness it follows that its constituent parts are: good birth, plenty of friends…” (Aristotle 7). Velutha was never really able to achieve his highest form of happiness. I would speculate his highest happiness as being married to Ammu and not being an Untouchable. Aristotle’s mention of good birth comes into play here. The lack of “good birth” is what holds Velutha back from maximum happiness.

6 This is a Cave Allegory reference. The darkness is the lack of light in the cave. Corinne is trying to work her way out, but the other “prisoners” (or I guess you could actually call Janine one of the people walking around the fire) don’t want her to get out. The medication is more for their good than for Corinne’s.

7 Here sleep is being used as the same dormant state that Estha is in. Corinne is shielding herself, like it or not, from her past that she can’t seem to remember. (It is also literal sleep in some cases in the story).

8 This is a river reference to the God of Small Things. Corinne is a fish out of water, or in very shallow water. She’s struggling to breathe, and her daughter is the river. She has to find her or she will “die” not literally, but a piece of her will.

9 This is a reference to Estha’s coping ability again. “It (quietness) sent its stealthy, suckered tentacles inching along the insides of his skull, hovering the knolls and dells of his memory, dislodging old sentences, whisking them off the tip of his tongue. It stripped his thoughts of words that described them and left them pared and naked. Unspeakable.Numb…He grew accustomed to the uneasy octopus that lived inside him and squirted its inky tranquilizer on his past.” (Roy 13). The procedure is basically doing the same thing to Corinne. Her memory is being silenced and numbed because it’s causing her too much pain.

10 A shadow on the Cave wall.

11 In our discussion about Mary Lavin’s “Happiness”, there was a suggestion that flowers represent happiness for Vera. The flowers are fake because Corinne’s new life and new “happiness” is fake. It won’t last and it is nothing compared to real happiness in the same way that fake flowers don’t have a fragrance and their petals aren’t the same.

12 Fish reference from The God of Small Things. Instead of the fish in the river, there’s a fish in the bowl. He is trapped in the same way Corinne is. The fish can’t move on down the river (of life) because it’s in a bowl. Corinne can’t move on either. The fish keeps swimming in circles (and coincidentally, goldfish only have a very short memory that is selective, causing them to be able to remember the general idea of something in the past, but not exactly what happened. Coincidence, I think not!) Corinne’s memory is like that of the goldfish. It is blurry and can’t remember very far into the past, only bits and pieces.

13 The fish keeps swimming just like Ammu in The God of Small Things even though, “in the pit of her stomach she carried the cold knowledge that, for her, life had been lived.” (Roy 39). Ammu knew there was nothing left for her now, but she had to carry on for the other people in her life. Corinne is facing a similar circumstance as she sees how the people at the lab are depending on her, but there’s no motivation left in her.

14 This is yet another Aristotle function reference. Corinne is doing her function well, so she is happy. But it is a temporary happiness. Her life is not whole because she is lacking relationships with people, family, and friends. This is why Aristotle adds at the end of his essay, “”in a complete life.” For one swallow does not make a spring, nor does one sunny day; similarly, one day or a short time does not make a man blessed and happy.” (Aristotle 8). You can also link this to Chacko in The God of Small Things. He eats to fill up the void where Margaret Kochamma and Sophie Mol used to be. He hasn’t reached his highest function either. I would think he’d be disappointed after going to Oxford and then coming back home to live with his mother. He must feel some sense of failure from that and from his divorce. Corinne feels a sense of failure from not being able to save her daughter.

15 We’re back to that hole in the universe again. It’s kind of like a black hole, it sucks everything in, makes happy things seem less significant, it’s always looming there in the background.

16 This is actually another Aristotle quote. (It’s not from our text though. I actually just happened to stumble upon it the day before I started on the paper. I was checking my gmail and I have an Aristotle quote of the day amongst many other things on my iGoogle homepage. That just happened to be the quote of the day. Okay, moving on…) Corinne had an extensive education, which gave her a literal refuge underground as well as a mental refuge. She was able to busy herself in her work, but it wasn’t enough to provide a total shield from her past.

17 The God of Small Things; Estha’s and Rahel’s boat reference. Corinne’s boat is different though. Hers is more of a shield between her and the water, which is reality and life. The boat is sinking, which shouldn’t be a problem for a “fish”, but Corinne is more of a wounded mermaid or lungfish. She can swim, just not yet. The wound has to heal before she can regain control of her flippers and move on with life.

18 This is another Cave Allegory reference. The fish should be unhappy, but isn’t. Now, in literal terms, he’s too dumb to know he’s in a fish bowl, which is similar to how people are in the Cave. Ignorance is bliss. The people in the Cave are in a pitiable condition, but they don’t know that. They think that there’s nothing wrong at all.

19 This is obviously another Fish reference. No water left to breathe, and no air either. Corinne has reached the point where she has to jump in and swim or let part of her die. This is similar to Ammu’s situation. She has to decide if she’s going to take a chance with Velutha or if she’s going to let part of her soul become numb and die.

20 This is a reference to Chacko’s phrase, “Anything is possible in Human Nature…Love. Madness. Hope. Infinite Joy.” (Roy 112). Chacko is elaborating on how complex people’s emotions are, and how a single thing or person can be the cause of an array of emotions.

21 Corinne’s dream was true despite what others tried to tell her. Reality was a sense of perception, her dreams ended up being her reality. Ammu made her dreams her reality, “If you’re happy in a dream, Ammu, does it count? Because the truth is, that only what counts counts. If you eat fish in a dream, does it count? Does it mean you’ve eaten fish?” (Roy 208). She had eaten fish, and even though the fish wasn’t physically in her stomach, her mind thought it was, and that’s what counted. That’s what allowed her to later “eat fish”.

22 This is a “Crito” reference. Janine is saying that the State in itself was more important than the people it was supposed to serve. What is a State without its people though? It is no longer a State.

23 This is a The God of Small Things reference. “Baby Kochamma would say it was a Small Price to pay. Was it? Two lives. Two children’s childhoods.” (Roy 319). Just as baby Kochamma saw the lives of Ammu and Velutha and the childhoods of Estha and Rahel to be a small price to pay for keeping the family name clean, Janine is saying that the families who had to be sacrificed, all the people who died, were just casualties. It was a small price to pay for keeping their society intact. Maybe they valued society and civilization too highly. After all, families make up the backbone of society.

24 This time Infinite Joy is the highest level of the Cave. She is out of the Cave, and free from her limitations. It is basically Heaven.

25 This is reflecting Baby Kochamma’s thoughts again. “And a history lesson for future offenders.” Ammu, Velutha were both used as examples for the rest of the town. Velutha’s death reinforced the limits of the Untouchables and Ammu’s reinforced the cultural laws that women “should abide by.” Corinne’s death was to be used as an example of what happens when you refuse the laws of the State, when you question something you’re not supposed to question.

Empowerment

Scrambling through what seemed to be a never-ending field of wheat, she ran. Ana was not concerned with the distance or the length of time that had been spent on this journey- the only thing that consumed her was the past twelve hours. As she revisited the memory of the day before, she felt the tall wheat stalks brushing up on her arms, and her long black hair whipping against her shoulders. The more Ana thought about what happened, the worse she felt; she felt as if guilt were consuming her, and almost paralyzing her long, lanky legs. After not saying a word for hours, she spoke.

“I don’t know what to do anymore. Every time I make up my mind about something, it always seems to be the wrong decision. Where do I go from here?” she asked herself.

“You do not belong anywhere. You don’t do anything but bad. You serve no higher function. [1] You’re just a good-for-nothing!”

“NO! No, I do not believe you anymore!” Ana cried.

Though Ana has tried to escape her, she always had this girl following her. Her name was Maddie. She was not a particularly charming girl- she was about Ana’s age, 17. She would always speak her mind, and sometimes it would not be the nicest thing in the world. Everywhere that Ana went, Maddie followed. It seemed that every time that Ana was happy, Maddie was happy; anytime that Ana was upset, Maddie was upset. One could say that even though they were physically separate, they had joint identities. [2] This time was no exception for them mimicking each other’s emotions.

“Why do you not believe me? I have guided you through the darkest of times. I am there for you when nobody else is. I followed you after you ran away from a situation where you are needed! How can you forgive them for what they did?!”

“I don’t forgive them! I swear I don’t! I would give anything to take back what happened. Had I known what they planned on doing to her…”

“You should have known. They have done this before. Why do you think people would change?! People only act out of habit!” [3]

“I would like to believe this, but how can I? You’ve seen what Rian has done in the past.”

“She is probably the only one who has acted out of the norm. We cannot only keep our thoughts on her. She was the one that betrayed us in the first place!”

“Rian is too much of a good person. I know she is good-“

“How?? How is she good? What makes a ‘good person’?”

“I don’t know! She just is, ok?!”

She sighs deeply, her body exhausted after running for 4 straight hours with no set destination. She finally stops running and falls to her knees as though she was knocked off balance. Her body heaved and let go extra weight that was holding her down, and then looked up at the sky. The stars were quite visible that mid-November night. As she laid in the field staring at the stars, she watched her breath being exhaled in the brisk night and finally answered:

“A person can be considered ‘good’ for the things that they do, and the way that they go about doing them. If all a person ever did was sit around and say that they were going to do something without action, it wouldn’t have accomplished anything, and would not have served any higher purpose…”

Not expecting this intelligent answer at all, Maddie responded in the only way that she knew how, and it made her swallow her pride:

“Hmm… I agree… " [4]

“And looking at a person from that kind of perspective, Rian was always the one to think things through, even though she saw the world through rose-colored glasses. Though I wanted her to see what was really going on, I didn’t want her to have taken them off if it would have saved her…” [5]

“Seeing the truth wasn’t the reason for what happened- it’s what she did about it. That choice is what made her die, and that choice is why she is and was not a good person!” Maddie screamed.

“Making one mistake does not make you bad. Everybody is human and can make mistakes. We are not perfect beings, we all have flaws. Making mistakes doesn’t make you a beast [6] , you know.”

“We are getting away from the point, Ana. This should not be a debate of whether or not Rian was a good person- it’s what has happened. And because of that, Rian is dead, and now we are out here running away!”

“Stop! Just, stop! You know that if I had known what Margo and Frances were doing that I would not have gone around telling people. Rian panicked! It was not her fault that she had to witness that! I mean, what would you have done if you had seen our fellow servant with the master, huh? Rian didn’t know what to do, and she told the only people she thought she could trust, me and Gus.”

“If I had been in her situation, I would have told not a soul but Frances’ wife. She would have been able to straighten Frances out. Rian was a damned fool for telling Gus. She may have looked up to him as a surrogate father-figure but he was the most drunken man in this town. And it showed with him shouting about everyone’s business, leading to him telling Frances about what Rian had said.”

“Rian was only trying to help-“

“She led herself to her death. If you were a master, what would you have done if your servants were spreading horrible rumors about your affair to the entire town? Think, Ana! It was the only way to make everyone think that the rumor was false! The only thing that stands in his way of keeping his reputation is you, and what you know. If you went back and told what you knew, then everyone would know what had really happened, and Margo would be saved. You do, of course remember that Margo is to be hanged for being thought having an affair with the master. Frances’ wife demands that she be killed for being part of such a ‘rumor’. Rian had the same fate because she spread it around!”

There were few times that Ana actually cried. She cried when she realized that she was not her own being, but a servant. She cried when her dog drowned in the well. She cried when she witnessed Rian being hanged while hiding behind a wall. Now Ana was crying out of fear, and out of frustration.

“I would go back, but what if I was caught by the wrong people before I got to tell what I know? If I were caught, I would also share their fate!”

“Thoughts like these make you a good-for-nothing. Thinking like this gets you nowhere and proves my point of you having no function. All you do is think about yourself. This is your chance! This is your chance to enter the light; instead you are running into the darkness. You always say that you look up to Rian and aspire to be like her… well now’s your chance.”

Why is this happening to me? Ana thought. Rian came to me in tears about what she had seen and didn’t know what to do. She also told Gus what she had seen. Gus was always a good man to Rian and me; he was like our father. I know in my heart that Gus didn’t do this on purpose- he was not in his right state of mind. In a mere 4 hours from the time that Rian had told Gus, he sang like a bird in the streets and had sentenced her to death... How I wish I could be like Rian… Everyone always loved her for her honesty and kindness and her independence [7], and here I am crying and running away in the face of adversity while not being able to make decisions on my own. This might be an impossible thing to do, but I am not going to let Rian die in vain. I am going to tell what I have seen and save Margo.

Another thing about Ana is that once she has set her mind on something, she becomes very determined to see it happen. Though Ana was still crying, she had realized that she needed to come back to town and tell what she knew so that she could save her comrade. The more she dwelled upon about the situation, the more it made her sick to her stomach. Then out of the blue, she started to think more carefully about the situation as a whole, and then it struck her:

What was Margo thinking? She should have known that any relationship with Frances other than master/servant would have resulted in death… Was she having an affair with our master because he forced her to, or was it because it was what she wanted? I had noticed lately that she was not attending to her chores very often, yet she was not getting in any trouble with our master- in fact, they would smile at each other! How could I have been so blind? The more I think about it, the more obvious it becomes! Even though she knew she might be caught and hanged, she still wanted the chance to be happy! [8]I can’t believe how stupid I was in not realizing this before and saying this to Rian! Why can’t I be as free-minded as Margo? I wish that I could find something that would make me as independent as she- then maybe I could be happy[9], and that could lead me to be self-sufficient, and I could get Maddie off of my back… If Frances and Margo are truly happy together, then Frances’ wife might accept this and will be able to go away. She has never really been a happy person ever since she arrived here, and has wanted to get away for some time now. Now this is my chance to set everything right. Well, not everything. Rian is still dead… But this can be my chance in honoring Rian’s Memory and proving to her that I can be strong! I know that she is looking down upon me from heaven… Yes. This is what I must do.

Without anymore doubt or hesitation, Ana turned around and ran. She ran as though her life depended on it- which is quite apropos, because her life and the life of Margo hung in the balance. Also without hesitation, Maddie followed her.

“So you finally decided to grow up and do something with your life, huh?” Maddie asked tauntingly.

“You know, I never asked you to come with me. I’ve tried to get rid of you so many times. Why don’t you just leave me alone?!”

“You know I can’t do that, Ana. I’m a part of you. You created me as a way to cope with the world. When you realized that you were no longer a free being, you cried out for someone to be there for you. When nobody came, you created me. I was there for you to get you through the day. I was there for you to help you stop mourning your dog. I was there with and for you when Rian was condemned to death. And I have been here to help you realize that you needed to do the right thing. So why try to rid yourself of me now, Ana?”

“Because… I don’t need you anymore…”

“…what did you say?”

“I said that I don’t need you anymore, Maddie! You have done nothing but be my negative thoughts! Anytime that I doubted myself, it was through you! You were there, but you did nothing but make me hate myself. Instead of helping me, you hurt me. And I came to the conclusion by myself that I need to go back, not you. I don’t need you anymore. Go away!”

As Ana was fighting with her other persona Maddie, she was still running through an endless view of fields. It just so happened that a farmer was working on this particular field that Tuesday morning, and witnessed this sight.

“Oh, I can’t go away, Ana. I have been here this whole time, and I’m going to stay.”

“NO, YOU’RE NOT!” Ana roared.

The elderly farmer looked up from his scythe, tilted up his hat with his weathered hands and stared as a teenage girl ran about 20 feet away from him, shouting at an invisible person.

“Crazy kids… They have no respect…”

Ana did not see or hear the farmer, and kept running. It was about 4 in the morning, and Margo was to be executed at 6A.M.

“You’re not going to rid yourself of me, and you’re not going to make it on time!” Maddie cackled.

“You’re wrong. I am going to make it, and I am going to get rid of you- you don’t exist! I don’t believe in you anymore. I don’t believe in you anymore! I DON’T BELIEVE IN YOU ANYMORE!” Ana shouted at the top of her lungs.

And with that, Ana suddenly felt alone- not the kind of loneliness which brought her into her original depression out of which she created Maddie, but rather a feeling of being alone which was liberating. She had finally rid herself of the burden of her other persona which had controlled her for many years. With this new feeling of freedom, she felt much lighter, and began to run faster. Ana had always been a fast runner, but now she was even faster. Lately she had been better at thinking things through- now her thoughts were clearer. She was thinking about the future now, something that she hadn’t given much thought to. Ana wanted to free Margo, she had decided that a few hours ago. Now she wanted to find a man that she could be happy with, like Margo. She wanted to save up enough money to buy her own house, and eventually be a free woman. Ana, for the first time in her life, knew what she wanted, and she was running after it.

Several months later, Gus walked into his usual daily stop, The Boar’s Head, the local pub. Gus had not gone in for a long time, which was quite unusual. He walked in, hung his battered hat and coat up on the coat rack and sat down at the bar. The bartender gave him a quick glance, said hello, and without any hesitation, served him his usual scotch. Mary was the bartender- she was fairly young, moderately tan, and was the love affair that Gus wished he could have. And as a custom of the stereo-type of bartenders, Mary knew the town’s business. There weren’t many customers in the pub tonight, so Mary thought that she would uncover why he had not been a regular these past few months.

“Hey, baby. Where have you been all this time?” Mary asked sweetly.

“Oh… I’ve been around,” Gus paused, took a sip of his scotch and sighed.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong with you, huh? You know you can tell me anything.”

“Oh, Mary… I’ve been a horrible person, and done horrible things-“

“Everybody’s done bad things in their past. It doesn’t make them bad people…” Mary interrupted. As soon as she was about to pour him another glass of scotch, Gus held out his hand and refused.

“No, thank-you, Mary. This stuff is the bane of my existence, the reason why I ruined my life and the lives of my daughters.”

“I didn’t know you had children, Gus!”

“I don’t… at least anymore. They were like my children. They came to me, and I was there for them and looked out for them. Nobody comes to ol’ Gus anymore…”

He had spent these past few months in mourning over Rian and Ana, as they were like his daughters, even though he only watched the stables, and they took care of the master’s house. Gus came to the conclusion that his drinking had been the cause of why Rian, Margo, and Ana had died. They each were caught and were hanged by the neck until dead. Nobody expected Ana to come back, but when she did, she ran to Gus’ house, where he told her of how they were looking for her.

“Gus! I need to speak with Frances and his wife! I need to save Margo!” Ana shouted.

“Ana! I’ve been so worried about you… I think it’s too late! The mistress has already made up her mind, and you are to be hanged too.”

“No! I can’t be! If I can speak with Frances, then I can have us all off of the hook! I just wish I had been more forward earlier... then maybe I could have saved her…” her voice trailed off and she looked outside of the fogged up window of Gus’ shack. Ana was still fighting with herself- she was proud of herself for returning, yet angry with herself for not acting fast enough. Gus could sense this.

“Ana, you know I love you as a daughter. If I can do anything to help, please let me know. I would do anything in my power to help you and Margo…”

“Please let the master know that I need to speak with him immediately.”

“Oh, Ana…” Gus said quietly. Tears began to form in the corners of his eyes.

“What is it, Gus?”

“Frances left town today after his wife had Rian hung and after she condemned Margo. Nobody has seen him since!”

The bottom of Ana’s stomach seemed to fall. Everything that she came back for and hoped to achieve had withered away within the last few minutes. All she could do was stare at the paint-chipped wall. Gus stood up, tears streaming down his face, put his arms around Ana, as Ana collapsed into them.

“You know, almost the whole time I was gone, I thought about one thing.” said Ana.

“What’s that?” sniffled Gus.

“If we could somehow find a job on the side, after Frances sent us home, and saved up enough money to buy our freedom, we could be like a real family…”

“Ana, baby, I wish that could be a reality.”

The two of them comforted each other, as they both knew that this would be the last time that they would see each other, and let the other know how much they were loved[10].

It was not long until Ana was found at Gus’ shack- guards came in, took Ana by the arm, picked her up, and led her to the door. Gus tried to fight them, but he could not have won a four to one fight, drunk or sober. Ana did not try to fight back- she was going with dignity. Gus had always thought of Ana as not very intelligent, and a dependent soul, but the Ana that stood in front of him then was a totally different person. She did not have inhibitions, and did not care if she were caught. In fact, that’s what she wanted.

“That is why I have been away,” Gus said. “I feel that I was to blame for the deaths of my ‘daughters’, and I also was tending to my new land…” he looked up and saw that Mary was confused. He explained, “After my ‘daughters’ were killed, the mistress declared that all of the rest of the servants working on their land were to be set free and were to receive a little piece of their land. So I was freed, and now I live near the stable which I worked in, and I own it.”

“Do you know why she gave all of their land away?” Mary inquired.

“Well, technically, it was her land at the end of it all. See, she was angry at Frances for being unfaithful, so she slit his throat. I don’t really understand why she did because she was never happy here… maybe it was because her reputation was put on the line… who knows. All I know is that she gave each of her servants a little piece of land and left.”

Gus took his scotch glass in his hand, and downed the final amount. He set the glass back down on the bar and whispered,

“It’s all my fault.”

“I know that you feel guilty, but it is not your fault!”

“Well, I still feel that it is. If I hadn’t gone about shouting like I did that day, Ana, Margo, and Rian could have lived with me and we could have been a family! Before Ana tried to speak with Frances, she even said that she wanted to be free! I don’t know if you would ever be able to wrap your pretty little head around it, Mary, but being a servant is one of the worst things to imagine. It was as if you always had to make up for your presence in your master’s eyes, or you weren’t a person at all…[11]”

For the longest time Gus stared down at his empty scotch glass, and watched the beads of sweat roll down onto the napkin, and soak through to the wood of the bar-top.

“Now they’re dead, and so am I…”

“Oh, come now, Gus. You are not dead! You are sitting right here in front of me, sitting at my pub!”

“That’s not what I mean, Mary. Once they died, I stopped living…[12]"

---

[1] Aristotle’s On Politics, where he discusses people’s function in society.

[2] The God of Small Things: “…they were a rare breed of Siamese twins, physically separate, but with joint identities.” (Roy 5)

[3] Thomas Hobbes’s Habit, which tells how people mainly act on what they are used to, how their actions are habitual, and how difficult it is to break that habit.

[4] Crito: “CRITO: I agree with what you say, Socrates; but I wish you would consider what we ought to do…” (Plato 57)

[5]The Ball Turret Gunner; explaining how she saw the true reality and was ‘taken care of’ after what she had seen

[6] Aristotle’s On Politics: explaining how people living outside of society are beasts or gods, and what makes a beast

[7] The God of Small Things: “…loved most about her was her self-sufficiency.” (Roy 233)

[8] Happiness: “Isn’t it more important than ever to be happy when you’re dying?” (Lavin 32)

[9] On Happiness: “We may define happiness as prosperity combined with virtue; or as independence of life…” (Aristotle 6)

[10] The God of Small Things: “…what they shared that night was… hideous grief. Only that once again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved… And how much.” (Roy 311)

[11] The God of Small Things: “It was like having to sweep away your footprints without a broom. Or worse, not being allowed to leave footprints at all.” (Roy 71)

[12] The God of Small Things: “What came for them? Not Death. Just the end of living.” (Roy 304)