The Master and the Slave

The master let out a single shout as the slave landed on his back, knocking him flat in an instant. Why was his slave attacking? Why? The master was confused. He had always been good to his inferiors, feeding them and clothing them and even giving them a place to live in. They worked for him and he kept them alive, unless they tried to run, of course, but the particular slave that was at this very moment pounding him had never even tried to run. It confused him in the same way an attack by his dog would have.

The attack confused him even more because he had never thought anything like this could happen. After all, how could a slave break into his home, endangering him and his family? His thoughts flicked there for a moment: his wife in bed upstairs, his children too. Slaves couldn't plan things like this. They were not really humans, after all, just slaves. Objects to be bought and sold, like dogs. And, like dogs, he treated them nicely, was even kind to them, so long as they behaved. But they were not supposed to think for themselves!

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The slave looked down at the bloody, prostrate figure of his tyrannical master, the master who had taken away his friends, his family, and, above all, his freedom. His parents had taught him that there was always hope, no matter how dark the situation. He believed them no longer. His friends had been sold like cattle, not a second of sleep lost by the monsters who traded them. His family had died of common, curable maladies. Not of hunger or thirst, but of simple neglect. For him it was just a lost field hand, easily replaceable.

The master thought himself a good man because he treated slaves well. The slave thought the master a tyrant because the master had not believed his servants were human, because he had cared for them without caring about them. And now he would care no more, for the slave had saved the world from one more oppressor that had taken hope away without a thought.

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The slave had hope again.

But in a world filled with oppressors, how long could it last?