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Page 92 text:
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ESSAYS 1. All Alone in the Big City by Terrence Moore, XI-37 2. Dinner is Served . by Linda Vincent, XI-30 3. A Question of Evil by Horst Packer, XI-37 All Alone in the Big City Portage Avenue was as still as death. Looking in toward the heart of the city, I could see no living thing, Behind me, the ever-widening ring of fire con¬ sumed the suburbs, Silver Heights and Tuxedo. A mighty pall of smoke cast its suffocating shadow over the rubble-strewn plain. As I walked eastward, flam¬ ing wreckage was replaced by charred, smouldering timbers. I stumbled slowly along, and found myself at the bank of the Assiniboine River. The muddy water swirled around a pile of concrete and twisted steel that had once been St. James Bridge. I resumed my painful progress toward the centre of town. My way was paved with shattered glass, erupted pavement, mangled metalwork, and splinter¬ ed, fire-blackened planks and timbers. Had cars and trucks and buses streamed along this route, carrying a work-weary city home to rest? Had street lights bathed the thoroughfare in glaring light, and flashing signs measured the heartbeat of a vibrant town? The reeking vapours of a ruptured sewer main filtered through a mountain of broken brickwork to add their ethereal mass to the thick, low-hanging cloud above. The mushroom cloud of yesterday had long since dissipated and settled back to earth, but the smoke from an atomic age bonfire, from an insatiable con- Darkness is falling on Renfrew Street and at 249, promptly at six, Mother announces, in dulcet tones, that dinner is ready. Five minutes later in not-so- dulcet tones, she again proclaims this fact. Finally at 6:08 a stentorian bellow resounds throughout the house and we emerge from various parts of our home to take our places at the “groaning board.” Don comes from the kitchen where he has been constructing a model “dragster” which, in his worthy opinion is “real neat.” Chris ascends from the base¬ ment and for some time after seems to be afflicted with that well-known disease “Television Stare.” Father, with visible effort, rises from the couch where he has been enjoying his “pre-dinner snooze.” I come from the living room floor, having furthered my education by reading about the adventures of Dick Tracy and the creatures of the Okeefenokee Swamp. Mary Jane comes to her place with a “headful of hardware” — she has just washed her hair and Mother comes from flagration which devoured a city, swelling as it ate, the smoke from this inferno of wood and flesh now blotted out the sun and moon; the sun, that had once fried an egg on the steps of the city hall; the moon, whose love-provoking beams had poured through many a bedroom window on a summer’s eve. But that was in another world, the world of reality. This was all a dream, a wild, delirious dream, in which a telephone cable of yesterday morning was now a slack, meaningless strand of metal, snaking across my path. Once, there had been a thriving city here — a day ago. And once, the golden boy had gazed across it, and in his gaze had counted prostitutes, policemen, and Salvation Army Santa Clauses. Now, he lies in a ton of rubble, his torch extinguished, his sheaf of wheat scattered to the four winds. And here I stand, at the windiest corner in Canada, near the ruins of a bank, a railway station, and a furniture store; near the ruins of a monument to the men who died in the war to end war. Around and above me, the sides of a cavernous crater bristle with gas mains, water mains and steel to reinforce a city. I brush from my clothes a layer of filthy radioactive dust, but more settles in its place. Served the kitchen to place on the table another of her culinary masterpieces. It is greeted with appropriate comments, “Not liver again!” or “Ugh! I hate scal¬ loped potatoes!” At first there is no sound. We are all too busy soothing our fierce pangs of hunger. Gradually, the silence is broken by witty, scintillating conversation — “I had a raw carrot before dinner so I don’t think I’ll have any beans.” “Would you please move your elbow? I’d like to see what I’m eating!” “Chris, when Donald wants a bun, don’t throw him one, pass the whole plate!” Usually, at this point the table becomes the site of a verbal battle over some question of earth-shaking importance, as which of the boys is the better hockey player. The sides are mostly in the ratio of three to one. When the battle becomes heated, with words like “stupid,” “idiot,” and “half-wit” flying through Dinner is 88
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Page 93 text:
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the air, Mother calls a halt with the familiar adage, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” A heavy silence reigns. Everyone is obviously straining to think of “something nice.” “Er,” I venture on a remark, “1 got six out of twenty on a thing I did in English today.” This statement is greeted with hoots and guffaws which are quickly stopped by stern glances from both ends of the table. Quiet hangs over the table until the end of the Main Course. When Mother goes to get the dessert we settle the score with kicks under the table and horrible faces made at our particular adversaries. Mother returns with dessert and someone remarks in tones dripping with sarcasm, “Oh boy, something new — vanilla ice¬ cream!” At the termination of dessert we all settle back for the happy interlude in which Father drinks his tea. During this time we discuss intelligently such topics as politics, “Why I Didn’t Get Nominated for Class President,” sports, “I Can Beat Anybody Here at Tiddly-Winks,” or fashion, “What to Wear to the Bowling Alley on Saturday Night.” Finally the table is cleared and after a brief argument in which my sister and I determine that it is “my turn” I enter the kitchen and pick up a dish-towel. The rest of the family go back to their interrupted activities to the accompaniment of dishes sloshing around in the sink. The curtain of night hangs over our street and everyone heaves a sigh. Dinnertime at 249, at least for the next twenty-four hours, is over. A Question of Evil The relationship between good and evil and the essence of evil has been a prime subject of men’s thoughts since man begun to think. It is impossible to draw a clear borderline between good and evil. However, we know instinctively what is good and what is evil, by comparing it with our own set of moral values or with the morality of society. Therefore, evil is only a relative term, depending upon one’s own morality. A person will call anything “evil” which compares unfavorably with his own moral standards and consider anything good which cor¬ responds to his own set of values. Our own morality is deduced from the values which have been developed by western society in the course of centuries. The Laws of Hammurabi, the Ten Commandments, the Codex Justiniani, and the laws developed by the Germanic tribes all had the same purpose: to establish a morality by which mort¬ als might live at peace with one another and with their own minds. These laws differ in phrasing and the punishments which were to be meted out to evil¬ doers, but basically, they establish the same moral code, the same concept of evil. If even peoples as different as the Babylonians and the Germanic tribes had the same laws, humans must be instilled with a general sense of right and wrong. However, the precise ideas we have individually of evil do not necessarily coincide with society’s, since no man’s personality corresponds with the medium set by society. One person relaxes his morals one way, another pardons some other crime. Some persons have stopped thinking of evil altogether and act purely from instinct. Such individuals must be considered abnormal. The morals of the ideal person, however, who has not blunted his conscience in any direction, should conform with those of his society. From the day that Adam took the apple proffered by Eve, evil, crime, sin, no matter what the term, has been with us. Must we always condemn evil and the person who perpetrates it? Sometimes acts are com¬ mitted, that, when compared with our moral stand¬ ards, must be termed evil, yet the actions are brought on by fate or circumstance. We realize one thing: evil must be punished. Yet we must make the judg¬ ment dependent not upon the gravity of the offence alone, but also upon the circumstances leading up to it. If the motivations of two identical crimes differ, then the crimes must necessarily be of a different degree of evil. Therefore, “rubber-stamp” comparisons of men’s actions with an all-encompassing morality are not enough to determine evil. Knowledge of every factor leading up to a crime is essential to fair judg¬ ment and proper punishment. Evil will exist as long as the human race does. We must learn to cope with it, to resist it, and to judge properly what is evil and what is not. Only when we have determined what is evil for ourselves will we be able to judge the evil of others. 89
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