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At the end of the story…at the end of the story, the hero came home, and found herself transformed…into someone who didn’t belong, and could never belong, with the people she’d left behind. It was the same in almost every story I’d read.
“Rig,” I declared to him, “I need science.” “You need therapy.” “You need better jokes.” “You need a better sense of humor.”
“This makes it difficult for you when dealing with those who have lived in privilege,” he said. “We spend our lives learning to plan. Often, those in power stay in power because of such luxuries—it is not that they are smarter or more capable, but that they’ve had the opportunity to think about tomorrow, not just today.”
The love of the oppressed found the souls of the broken, and the result was light.
