What Is A Hero?

[Author's Note: I got the idea for this article Monday, December 10, 2001, but didn't start it until Sunday, March 17, 2002. It was finished on Wednesday, March 20, 2002. Although I intended this story to be no longer than a few pages, I could not help writing from twenty to thirty pages to fully express the ideas that lie herein.]

[NOTE: More can be found at www.punkerslut.com.]

Qortaka floated through the window of the king's chamber. Disturbed at the presence of the guest, the king woke up abrupty. "What are you doing here?" the king said.

"One of your slaves died yesterday," Qortaka, the god of the East, spoke.

He sat up straight and started rubbing the left side of his head, his head cocked, showing little sign of care. He looked up from scratching. "So?" he said, with eyes that held unanswered questions.

"She was slave #04013920," Qortaka said.

"Oh, yes," the king said, straightening himself out and becoming firm, "She was the slave who jumped into the river and drowned."

"Do you know why?" Qortaka asked.

"Well," the king began, "From what I gather from the overseers, it appears that the slave didn't want to be alive. That she would prefer death over slavery." The king almost chuckled as he said this.

"Do you know her name?" Qortaka asked in a straight-forward manner.

The king shrugged. "Like a king should affiliate himself with the names of his slaves," he said, "It seems rather ridiculous that I would even care to know her name."

"Her name was Hoodas," Qortaka said. "Have you any idea what it is like to live the life of a slavery, to live the life of property?" Qortaka asked showing a bit more agitation.

"Of course not," the king replied as-a-matter-of-factly. "I am King Tellarius! I know neither pains nor sorrows nor anguish -- my vizier takes care of most of the kingdom and he does a very good job. I do not busy myself with the organization of the slaves -- that is the job of the overseers. My life can be principally defined as thus: pleasure, leisure, and care-free. Now, when there's a war, it's a bit more fun."

"When Hoodas killed herself," Qortaka continued, "It was because of the way she was treated. Your overseers, despite how much you boast of them, are brutal and heartless. They know not the ways of kindness or hospitality and even though they may show affection for your loyal crown, it must be in tradition, as these men are like clockwork: trained to do your bidding. If slaves could be clockwork, and if they would follow every command without question, then there would be no need for any overseers. But your slaves do not live lives of luxury and happiness, much the way you provide your overseers with. Everyday to them is another day of toil, every hour another hour of pain, and every minute another minute of unsatisfaction of life. To Hoodas, slave #04013920, the slave who killed herself, it had reached the second where life was worse than non-life; that death served a paradise greater than the hell she already labored in."

"Yes, yes," the king said anxiously, "What is your point?"

"Well," Qortaka said, pausing for a brief moment, looking down, contemplating, and then returning to the question only a second later, "She died a hero."

"Don't make me laugh!" the king said distastefully and almost angered.

"It's true," Qortaka said nodding, "Philosophers, theologians, and thinkers for all centuries have declared that suicide was an act of cowardice, devoid of all virtue and without any merit. But it is something of courage in this case. Hoodas did not suffer from depression, and she did not have any debt or relationship problems hanging over her head. It was the whip and lash of inhumanity that held her down. Your totalitarian regime crushed her spirit, only so that she would end her life. There was no other option for her, no other choice or decision. She would either suffer the rest of her life and die, or decide to end it all right now. She chose to end the most precious thing to any individual: her life. It is something worth more than all the wealth or pleasure or power. Something that held intrinsic value. And she ended it, because she had the courage and defiance of your cruel slavery to refuse to accept what every slave accepted."

The king sat there, his eyes rolling briefly upwards, thinking. "Yeah," Tellarius said and nodded, "I suppose slave #04013920 was a hero in those contexts." Qortaka smiled, glad that the king had accepted this definition, but still believing Tellarius to be a scoundrel. "What's your point, though?" the king demanded, "Why did you wake me up in the middle of the night just to tell me this?"