James

by Percival Everett

“And the better they feel, the safer we are.”

What would they do to a slave who knew what a hypotenuse was, what irony meant, how retribution was spelled?

How strange a world, how strange an existence, that one’s equal must argue for one’s equality, that one’s equal must hold a station that allows airing of that argument, that one cannot make that argument for oneself, that premises of said argument must be vetted by those equals who do not agree.

At that moment the power of reading made itself clear and real to me. If I could see the words, then no one could control them or what I got from them.

“Here with Wiley or here in hell?”

Which would frighten you more? A slave who is crazy or a slave who is sane and sees you clearly?”

“Jim?” “James,” I said.

“I am a sign. I am your future. I am James.”