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eelhound · 1 year ago

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"The idea of reforming Omelas is a pleasant idea, to be sure, but it is one that Le Guin herself specifically tells us is not an option. No reform of Omelas is possible — at least, not without destroying Omelas itself:

If the child were brought up into the sunlight out of that vile place, if it were cleaned and fed and comforted, that would be a good thing, indeed; but if it were done, in that day and hour all the prosperity and beauty and delight of Omelas would wither and be destroyed. Those are the terms.

'Those are the terms', indeed. Le Guin’s original story is careful to cast the underlying evil of Omelas as un-addressable — not, as some have suggested, to 'cheat' or create a false dilemma, but as an intentionally insurmountable challenge to the reader. The premise of Omelas feels unfair because it is meant to be unfair. Instead of racing to find a clever solution ('Free the child! Replace it with a robot! Have everyone suffer a little bit instead of one person all at once!'), the reader is forced to consider how they might cope with moral injustice that is so foundational to their very way of life that it cannot be undone. Confronted with the choice to give up your entire way of life or allow someone else to suffer, what do you do? Do you stay and enjoy the fruits of their pain? Or do you reject this devil’s compromise at your own expense, even knowing that it may not even help? And through implication, we are then forced to consider whether we are — at this very moment! — already in exactly this situation. At what cost does our happiness come? And, even more significantly, at whose expense? And what, in fact, can be done? Can anything?

This is the essential and agonizing question that Le Guin poses, and we avoid it at our peril. It’s easy, but thoroughly besides the point, to say — as the narrator of 'The Ones Who Don’t Walk Away' does — that you would simply keep the nice things about Omelas, and work to address the bad. You might as well say that you would solve the trolley problem by putting rockets on the trolley and having it jump over the people tied to the tracks. Le Guin’s challenge is one that can only be resolved by introspection, because the challenge is one levied against the discomforting awareness of our own complicity; to 'reject the premise' is to reject this (all too real) discomfort in favor of empty wish fulfillment. A happy fairytale about the nobility of our imagined efforts against a hypothetical evil profits no one but ourselves (and I would argue that in the long run it robs us as well).

But in addition to being morally evasive, treating Omelas as a puzzle to be solved (or as a piece of straightforward didactic moralism) also flattens the depth of the original story. We are not really meant to understand Le Guin’s 'walking away' as a literal abandonment of a problem, nor as a self-satisfied 'Sounds bad, but I’m outta here', the way Vivier’s response piece or others of its ilk do; rather, it is framed as a rejection of complacency. This is why those who leave are shown not as triumphant heroes, but as harried and desperate fools; hopeless, troubled souls setting forth on a journey that may well be doomed from the start — because isn’t that the fate of most people who set out to fight the injustices they see, and that they cannot help but see once they have been made aware of it? The story is a metaphor, not a math problem, and 'walking away' might just as easily encompass any form of sincere and fully committed struggle against injustice: a lonely, often thankless journey, yet one which is no less essential for its difficulty."

- Kurt Schiller, from "Omelas, Je T'aime." Blood Knife, 8 July 2022.

#kurt schiller #ursula k. le guin #quote #quotations #the ones who walk away from omelas #trolley problem #activism #introspection #discomfort #reform #revolution #suffering #ethics #morality

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pseudowho · 11 months ago

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Hiromi and Nemo

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Higuruma Hiromi has a black cat.

A series of drabbles.

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Higuruma Hiromi has a black cat. Or, the black cat has him; he is entirely uncertain as to whom the ownership falls.

Hiromi came to give this cat a home, by matter of a guilty conscience and poor circumstance. He had failed to secure another Not Guilty verdict, but his client would only walk to prison with his head held high on one condition;

"I've got a cat, Mr.Higuruma. A kitten, really. I have nobody else to give her a home and she's too soft to last as a stray." The client released his confiscated articles to Hiromi; Hiromi left court with nothing more than an address, a set of keys, and a profound sense of failure.

Hiromi arrived in a dank little street, clogged by steam, rattling gutters and the stale smells of closed restaurants. Hopping deftly up wet fire escape steps, Hiromi confirmed the door number to a set of water-stained flats, and let himself in. Hiromi's nose wrinkled against the wafting odour of damp and neglect, noting an overflowing litter tray. Stacks of condensation-moist letters pulped beneath Hiromi's feet, an empty cat food bowl revealed beneath them. Whoever had been attending to care for the home and the cat had long since abandoned their post.

"Come on, little one," Hiromi cooed, kneeling down and making gentle clicks and kisses of encouragement. The silence was too loud and deliberate for the absence of life. Hiromi pulled a bag of treats from his pocket, giving them an enthusiastic shake. A small, uncertain skitter of paws on floor responded from deep within the flat. Hiromi's eyebrows raised, coal-dark eyes glimmering with a warm smile.

A tiny black cat, thin and dull-furred, peeked her head around the corner ahead. Her yellow-eyed head dipped, bobbing up and down as she assessed Hiromi, perched between starvation and indecision. Hiromi's head dipped, too, his hooded eyes heavy as he inclined his chin in an act of surrender, hands open and visible as he shook treats onto the floor.

The cat darted, paws barely audible on the floor as she skidded to the treats, white teeth like needles as she scrabbled the food to her mouth. Almost immediately, she was on Hiromi, brushing against his hands and knees with urgent thanks, ducking her little furred head into his fingers, two tiny paws perched up on Hiromi's thighs as he cooed delighted relief at her.

Hesitantly, Hiromi scooped the cat, as light as a feather, into his arms. She purred a rattly little purr, eyes hopeful and nose dry and dull as she looked up to him, tiny claws kneading his suit jacket enthusiastically.

"Such a good girl, there we go, let's get you sorted, shall we?" The cat purred louder as if in answer, toes flexing and unflexing against Hiromi's forearm. Stepping out, sending the abandoned flat one last sorrowful glance, Hiromi locked the door, making his way down the staircase, thankful for having been adopted by this cat.

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Hiromi received many appreciative and confused glances in the pet shop, one hand pushing a haphazardly stacked trolley, and the other holding his new, very tame, furry companion. The cat batted at the end of Hiromi's tie as it fell forwards, Hiromi leaning down to scrutinise cat food brands with intense appraisal. Settling on a decision with a brisk click of his tongue, he headed to the cashiers, grabbing a pet insurance leaflet, and flea and parasite prevention medicine on the way.

Hiromi felt a profound sense of purpose, having finally staged a successful rescue attempt for the first time in years.

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Staggering through the doorway to his converted-factory penthouse, Hiromi shed bags and boxes at the door, his keys thrown somewhere which wasn't the key holder. He delicately protected the new little life in his arms like a concerned father. She gripped her claws into his suit jacket, little head urging outwards as her nose twitched, black whiskers flicking delicately against the scent of her new home.

"You'll like it," Hiromi insisted, scratching her softly behind the ears to an uncertain purr, "it's my home. Our home." He lowered her to the floor and she stalked forwards, apprehensive, flat to the ground and walls. Hiromi prepared her litter tray, bed, food and toys. By the time he had finished, the cat had completed her preliminary survey, and, satisfied with her findings, hopped promptly onto Hiromi's old leather sofa, claws pricking at the fabric to make it comfy. Hiromi let out a halted, exasperated breath, glancing between her bed and her-- "by all means, make yourself at home."

Hiromi sat beside the cat, stroking her little head with two lithe fingers, musing out loud to her: "No microchip on record. Never registered with a vets. Even the neighbours had no idea your old dad had a cat."

Hiromi allowed the cat to step into his lap again, purring. He ducked down so she could boop her nose to his, and Hiromi breathed a warm, hushed laugh; "A real nobody aren't you? A Nemo, hmm?" The cat purred louder, rubbing her face against Hiromi's aquiline nose.

From that day onwards, Nemo the cat and Hiromi the Lawyer and Sorcerer, were a family.

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"Yes, Mr.Nagashima. Yes. Yes. Tomorrow-- tomorrow morning, 9a.m. sharp-- would you stop that, you little pest? NO! No, not you Mr.Nagashima, my cat, she's a tinker--"

Hiromi performed an awkward tango around the room, trying to hook Nemo off his trouser leg with his opposite foot, and she clung on, thrilled by her little game. Her yellow eyes narrowed up at Hiromi and her tail flicked in challenge. With case files under his arm, and a mobile phone in his hand, Hiromi mouthed wordless reproach at Nemo as she meowed, meowed, meowed in response.

Ending his call and dumping his case notes on the sofa, Hiromi lifted Nemo eye to eye, glaring at her without venom. She stared into him, eyes gleaming and innocent. Hiromi opened his mouth to speak, and Nemo raised a paw, pressing it to his nose. Hiromi stopped, huffed.

The cat won this round.

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"Nemo? Nemo? Where are you?" Hiromi had returned from work, and was dismayed not to be greeted by the usual little chirps and meows from his unruly housemate. He wandered the flat at a crouch, clicking and kissing, trying to draw Nemo out, panic starting to set in that she had got out, his clicking and kissing noises increasing in urgency.

Reaching a quick resolve, Hiromi headed towards the door, hunting for his keys which were never on the hook. There was a quiet little meow from the armchair in the nook by the front door. Hiromi frowned, unable to see her. Another meow. Hiromi squinted. Momentarily, Nemo's eyes flicked open, and she melted out of yesterday's black suit jacket, abandoned on the armchair.

Hiromi clasped a hand to his chest, leaning back against the sideboard in dramatic relief.

"Don't scare me like that! I bet you were enjoying me worrying, weren't you, you little tart?"

A single mollified meow pipped from somewhere near Nemo's food bowl.

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Hiromi lay curled into his sofa. All the lights were switched off and Hiromi was cold, tired and hungry, downtrodden by his day. Humiliating memories of the day's court defeat, his struggles to adapt to the world of Jujutsu Sorcery and the weight of life rolled before his eyes, and he sunk his head into his hands with a low groan.

The tiny weight beside him on the sofa, shifted. It crawled over his shoulders to settle in the warm gap between Hiromi's chest and the back of the sofa. Rolling playfully, and pressing little pink toe-beans to his chin, Nemo purred at Hiromi, surveying him for injury.

With a resigned sniffle, Hiromi stroked her, glossy, smooth, and calming, an inky black puddle in the darkness of his flat. They stayed this way for hours, sharing the mutual therapy of company.

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Shhhck. Shhhhhck. Shhh--

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The unusual sparring match continued for hours-- Nemo, perched magnanimously on the kitchen counter, believed herself subtle as she slowly eked Hiromi's coffee mug towards the edge with one dainty paw.

Hiromi, refusing to sacrifice the comfortable nest he had made on the sofa, extended his gavel across the length of the kitchen, gently knocking his mug back away from the lip of the counter.

The match continued for some time. Hiromi and Nemo were both competitive.

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Hiromi's flat eventually looked like Nemo the cat had always lived there.

Bits of food which she didn't want in her food bowl, dotted the floor around it, until Hiromi cleared it up at the end of every day.

Nemo's bed, as new, never slept in, held her selection of toys (also unplayed with, sharing the space with one well-scratched black tie and a well-chewed shoelace).

The pillow beside Hiromi's in his bed, had a permanent Nemo-shaped dent in it.

Nemo plaited herself between Hiromi's ankles when her monthly food delivery arrived, as they danced around each other towards the kitchen.

She walked across his keyboard, greeting his delighted colleagues with chirps and meows during his Zoom calls.

"What would I do without you, Nims?" Hiromi asked her daily. She spared him a withering, mysterious glance, forcing his enquiry towards the rhetorical as she licked her paws in feigned disinterest.

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Higuruma Nemo has a Lawyer Daddy. Or, the Lawyer Daddy has her; both are uncertain and unbothered as to whom the ownership falls.

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For @silkspunweb, my little black cat.

#jjk #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #higuruma hiromi #highly recommended #hiromi jjk #higuruma hiromi x reader #jjk hiromi #higuruma #higuruma fluff #higuruma smut #higuruma angst #jujustsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jjk fluff

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