The dawn of the fifth day has come and passed. I looked to the east, but Gandalf never came.
Commander Shepard, I suspect, is still endorsing stores on the Citadel.
Mario went down the wrong pipe.
We have a fascination with heroes in our culture. Books, comics, movies, stories in general—they entrance, largely through the adventure of assailed figures fighting for salvation. Heroes can be born and bred to the part, or could be ordinary people who have greatness thrust upon them. They might hem and haw, or try to pass the mantle on, but in the end, they get the job done. We eat these stories up with fervor, often picturing ourselves there beside them, headed off to become a wizard or blast clear villains out of the vast nothingness between us and our dreams.
Escapism, it’s a beautiful thing.
But is it just that? Who among us wouldn’t want to be whisked away from their routine lives, pointed at the big bad, and told: YOU’VE GOT THIS?
There are those who call such beliefs childish and lazy and, in adults, downright irresponsible distractions. Fact is, though, many of us feel helpless in the day to day. We watch things slip through our fingers and good people get constantly, irrevocably hurt, and unlike in the stories, we possess little if any recourse, because more often than not, the law is on the side of the people doing the hurting. We are restless and frustrated, and afraid above all, and all our media is designed around the notion that when evil seems set to triumph, a hero will rise to set us free…
The truth is harder to deal with. What heroes we have are often suppressed, marginalized, or killed. At best they become martyrs, at worst they live long enough to see themselves become the villains, or to see their good works perverted by still craftier villains. We know no one is coming to save us. But we’ve been trained to expect it, and people keep perverting that expectation to their own ends.
I’m rather sick of it. I write, in part, because it allows me to process the world and where I see it headed, what I’ve seen it do before. I read, because I want to find ways among others’ dreams to impact and change our own hell.
And I’m sick to death of villains reading the same, and thinking, “God, if I just play the part for a while, they’ll eat it up.” So I’m left here to wonder: if even our ideas of heroes have gone astray, how do we fight in a way that will actually make a difference?