\u201cI do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways\u2026[but] from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2014 Theodore Parker<\/i><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I met Kronos again today. It was eight in the morning and the caf\u00e9 was bustling, as women in clacking heels and men in thudding brogues lined up for espressos before work. I sat alone near the front, the window\u2019s sun warm on the sleeves of my blazer. Whenever someone came or went through the nearby door, a bell would ring brightly, a cool breeze would wash over me, and I would sip my latte. Then, once again, I would rest my hands on my laptop, feel around for the ridges above F and J, and continue with my work.<\/p>\n
The case wasn\u2019t easy. A poor black teen had shot a\u00a0white\u00a0stranger\u00a0on the street, and without me, would be next in line for death. I typed on.<\/p>\n
But at some point, something shifted; two fingers pinched the fabric of the universe and\u00a0tugged.\u00a0<\/i>Just enough to sense. I hesitated in the middle of a sentence, pulling out my earbuds. Nothing sounded amiss; people chatted over their drinks or into their phones, busy feet shuffled, the baristas took orders and rushed to pour things between cups and machines and back again. Little smelled amiss; just the lingering char of a muffin left in too long, partially masked by coffee beans. One thing\u00a0felt<\/i>\u00a0amiss, but it was my opaque black glasses, sliding down my nose until pushed up again. And nothing looked amiss, because I saw nothing but darkness. A good thing \u2014 my glasses were doing their job.<\/p>\n
Still on edge, I returned to my work, slipping my earbuds\u00a0back in. \u201cRead page six,\u201d I spoke softly into the microphone. Through the\u00a0earbuds, my computer began to read my typed\u00a0document in a man\u2019s stilted monotone. I reached for my coffee, sliding my hand slowly across the table so that I wouldn\u2019t knock over my cup.<\/p>\n
Then the table\u00a0shifted\u00a0and I jerked back. Even before he spoke, I recognized him. I would know that mouth-breathing anywhere.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re picking up cases again,\u201d said Kronos.<\/p>\n
He had pulled up a chair right across from me and leaned his whole body against the table as if he owned the place; I didn\u2019t need to see to know that he was throwing his weight around again. Pointedly, I reached to my computer and turned up the volume, letting the droning voice of my screen reader drown him out \u2014\u202funtil Kronos reached forward and closed the screen of my laptop, clipping my fingertips.<\/p>\n
\u201cDefense?\u201d<\/p>\n
He paused for affirmation I\u2019d never give before continuing anyway. He reeked of false pity and sulfur.<\/p>\n
\u201cFor a kid in the ghetto, playing with guns. No money. No lawyer. No justice.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was a fist around my heart, clenching hard, wringing it out. \u201cSomeone had to.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut did it have to be you?\u201d he asked. \u201cYou,\u00a0Lady Justice,\u00a0the lawyer who has never lost a case? How is that a fair trial?\u201d<\/p>\n
The fist tightened. I wanted to say that there was no room in the system for \u201cfair\u201d. Public defenders had it hard as it was; if I let this case fall to one of them, my client would be in prison by the end of the day. Through no fault of their own; my client had everything against him. But I knew I could not just watch from the gallery. I could never explain it.<\/p>\n
The table tilted again. Kronos leaned closer, his cold fingers brushing my cheek.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know how often it happens, Themis,\u201d he whispered. \u201cI can see it. Natural law crumbles at your feet, mortals execute by the millions, time runs the course that it always has. And you\u2019re stalling. With a single boy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe has a daughter,\u201d I snapped.<\/p>\n
At once, the world paused. The clacking of shoes, the clinking of mugs, the chatting of customers \u2014 all went silent. \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d I started to ask, but then I felt his wet, rancid breath on my face, and before I could say a word, my glasses slid off my nose.<\/p>\n
Reflexively, my eyes flew open. Then I reeled back, blinking against the sunlight pouring through the caf\u00e9 window, gaping at the frozen faces of the people around me. They stared at their screens and their coffee, oblivious. One at the counter glared at his watch. Another at a table was locked in her compact mirror. A last man in the corner drowned in the news, obscured by a headline in bold:\u00a0ALL OUR HOPE IS LOST.<\/i><\/p>\n
Kronos leaned too close over the table, my glasses in his hand. For the first time in eons, I got a good look at him. He had barely changed. The same salt-and-pepper hair, creased mouth, and forgettable face. He wore a fine white suit, marked only by a smudge of black char on one shoulder. He was smiling.<\/p>\n
\u201cI preferred the blindfold,\u201d he mused. \u201cHarder to take off.\u201d<\/p>\n
My face burning, I snatched the glasses back. \u201cYou have no more power than I do. Go back to Tartarus where you\u00a0belong,\u00a0or I\u2019ll send you there myself.\u201d<\/p>\n
For that second, Kronos met my gaze. His eyes were wrinkled around the corners, but unnaturally bright, glittering with something youthful, something controlling, something\u00a0divine<\/i>, something I hadn\u2019t seen since he swallowed\u00a0the gods\u00a0whole. I didn\u2019t want to look at it any longer, but I didn\u2019t want to break the stare either. He wanted to win.<\/p>\n
\u201cJustice is dead,\u201d said he, \u201cand was reborn as a demagogue.\u201d<\/p>\n
When I blinked, he was gone. There were sounds again, and scents, and sights; mortals moved about the caf\u00e9 as if nothing had happened. All that remained of him was a whiff of sulfur and a scattering of ashes on the table before me.<\/p>\n
My hands unsteady, I swept the ashes away, sat down, and put my dark glasses on again. Blinding myself.<\/p>\n
Just a second later, the door opened, ringing the bell and letting a cool breeze brush my cheek. A forlorn pair of sneakers shuffled towards me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMiss\u2026Themis?\u201d<\/p>\n
The boy\u2019s voice was soft. Still high, cracking with youth, innocent. My client. Carefully, I told him to sit, folded my hands around my lukewarm coffee, and offered to buy one for him. He said no and then fell quiet.<\/p>\n
Putting my\u00a0earbuds\u00a0aside, I opened my laptop. I had no questions to ask. I had been watching this case since the shots had been fired. He was eighteen; his daughter, two. They had been walking to the aquarium to celebrate her birthday. He was exhausted from both of his jobs, so he set her down to rub his eyes.<\/p>\n
Then came the stranger, grabbing the little girl.\u00a0There was the chase. The struggle. The gunshot. The silence.<\/p>\n
My client whispered, \u201cI\u2019m going to die.\u201d<\/p>\n
I inhaled. In a different age, Kronos would be right. I should be less soft. I knew the law of this land better than the fingers that had first scrawled it on rotting yellow paper, fingers that thought they were the gods of justice, but had two eyes apiece. Eyes that thought they could see who was right, and who was wrong, and who was slave, and who was free. Eyes that ran the\u00a0remains of the world today. In a different era, I might accept my own failing \u2014 the failing of natural law, of ultimate justice, of the moral universe \u2014 and surrender, just as Kronos had, to let the human race run its downward course. It wasn\u2019t too late. I could walk out on my client, return to Olympus, and fade away in peace.<\/p>\n
But in this era, I closed my laptop and reached out. A long moment passed before the boy let me hold both of his warm, work-worn hands, and I squeezed them gently as I thought. I could feel his pulse, fluttering. Temporary. Insignificant. Ensnared by injustice; doomed to die.<\/p>\n
I told him, \u201cYou won\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Sarah Klumpp \u201cI do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways\u2026[but] from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice.\u201d \u2014 Theodore Parker I met Kronos again today. It was eight in the morning and the caf\u00e9 was bustling, as… Continue Reading The Arc<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":9,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-226","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/226","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/9"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=226"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/226\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":385,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/226\/revisions\/385"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=226"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}