The Stone Sky

by N.K. Jemisin

An apocalypse is a relative thing,

(“So you were slaves, so what?” they whisper. Like it’s nothing.) But to the people who live through a slave rebellion, both those who take their dominance for granted until it comes for them in the dark, and those who would see the world burn before enduring one moment longer in “their place” —

You can’t take away people’s homes and sense of security in such an immediate, dramatic way, and expect them to consider extended chains of culpability before they get angry about it.

To manipulate and mitigate and, through the prism of our awareness, produce a singular force that cannot be denied.

(Her parents doted on Uche, too, but it is horrifyingly obvious now that getting more attention isn’t necessarily favoritism.)

(It bothers her that she does this, watching him constantly for shifts of mood or warnings of tension.

“This is the task of the Guardians, little one. We prevent orogeny from disappearing – because in truth, the people of the world would not survive without it. Orogenes are essential. And yet because you are essential, you cannot be permitted to have a choice in the matter. You must be tools – and tools cannot be people. Guardians keep the tool… and to the degree possible, while still retaining the tool’s usefulness, kill the person.”

The Sylanagistines took their land. The Niess fought, but then responded like any living thing under threat – with diaspora, sending whatever was left of themselves flying forth to take root and perhaps survive where it could.

But there are none so frightened, or so strange in their fear, as conquerors. They conjure phantoms endlessly, terrified that their victims will someday do back what was done to them – even if, in truth, their victims couldn’t care less about such pettiness and have moved on. Conquerors live in dread of the day when they are shown to be, not superior, but simply lucky.

Perhaps it began with whispers that white Niess irises gave them poor eyesight and perverse inclinations, and that split Niess tongues could not speak truth. That sort of sneering happens, cultural bullying, but things got worse. It became easy for scholars to build reputations and careers around the notion that Niess sessapinae were fundamentally different, somehow – more sensitive, more active, less controlled, less civilized – and that this was the source of their magical peculiarity. This was what made them not the same kind of human as everyone else. Eventually: not as human as everyone else. Finally: not human at all.

“Soldiers might get a comm through a Season, but storytellers are what kept Sanze going through seven of them.”

if you love someone, you don’t get to choose how they love you back.”

But for a society built on exploitation, there is no greater threat than having no one left to oppress.

redirect the worst of its energy.