One Small Act

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“You will not convince me otherwise,” Erebus insisted.

“I don’t have to convince you,” Forseti replied. “If Humans think Courage exists, then for them it is real.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Erebus was adamant. “It is not something you can hold or touch, therefore it is not real.” The irony that the God of Darkness was arguing this point against the God of Justice, both celestial beings who measure time using the collapse of galaxies, seemed irrelevant. Erebus continued, “Even if courage were real, no human has ever shown a true example of it; it is always tainted by their greed.”

“You misunderstand humanity,” Forseti said. “You only see the darkness in their hearts and miss the moments that make them unique. They are flawed, yes. But they are also beautiful. How can I convince you their courage is real?”

“Show it to me,” Erebus replied, his voice filled with confidence, l. “I will give you three chances. You have all of human history, but you can only select three moments. If we both agree that one of those moments is a true act of courage, untarnished by human greed or selfishness, then you win. Does that sound fair?”

Forseti took a moment to consider the proposition, he was equally confident that throughout the whole of human history he could find one moment of true courage. “Deal,” he said, nodding his agreement.

“So, where do you want to begin?” Erebus asked, impatient to see his point proven.

Forseti reached out and turned his hand, spinning an invisible hourglass. As he did so, time began to flow around them. Rushing around them like a river rushes round a rock. Eventually time eased to a stop and they found themselves on a desert plain looking towards a red walled city.

“Where have you brought us?” Erebus said.

“Where else, but one of the earliest civilisations, one of the first to name us.”

“The Greeks, of course. Do you really expect to find courage amongst these philosophers?”

Forseti gestured away from the city, pointing toward a growing black mass on the horizon. The sound of beating drums began to float in the air. The sun reflected on the shields and spears of the approaching army. Turning back to the city, they watched as the gates opened and a single man rode out, the gates closing firm behind him. He carried nothing more than a short spear and wore simple leather armour. As he approached the army he cried out, “You seek vengeance! Take it from me but leave the city in peace. I challenge you.” The rider gestured towards a chariot at the head of the army. Continuing the challenge, he bellowed, “Will you face me alone to determine the fate of the city?”

“There you go,” Forseti said. “Is that not courage, willing to lay down your life to save a city of innocent people?”

“Is that the best you can do?” Erebus replied.

They looked on as the two fighters began their clash. Sword against spear. Blades slicing flesh.  Ignoring the bloodshed, Erebus continued his point. “That is stupidity, not courage. He rode out here for glory and nothing else.” As if to emphasise his point the head of the rider came rolling past, drawing a vivid line of scarlet across the sand.

Accepting his loss with a disappointed sigh, Forseti reached out and turned the hourglass again. Time flowed rapidly past the pair, until eventually ot slowed and came to a stop. Before the Gods lay a cobbled street packed with people. The roar of the crowd mixed with the crackle of burning torches. At the front of the crowd, standing on a raised platform, was a man in a worn suit. He was silhouetted against a large brick building surrounded by a wrought iron fence.

The man was yelling, flecks of spit catching in his moustache, “They don’t care about us!” As his voice grew louder, he gestured violently towards the building behind him “they make us work ourselves to death, and expect to pay us next to nothing. We won’t stand for this!” The crowd roared their approval and the man picked up a brick and hurled it over the fence behind him.

“See, this man stands up for the rights of others,” Forseti said, “Even though he might suffer harm he tries to inspire others to stand up for what is right, is that not courage?”

The crowd surged forward. The mass of men crashed into the iron fence, those at the front trying to break the locks that held the gates closed. Eventually, the gates were flung open, and the crowd forced their way through and the crowd rushed towards the buildings within. The man with the moustache was lost amongst the crowd.

“He does that not for glory or to prove his strength,” Forseti said. “But for the benefit of others. He wants to build a fairer world and he needs courage to do that.”

Erebus considered the argument for a moment and then replied, “Nice try. But no. That is not courage. He pushes for change for his own benefit.”

“Even if he will benefit, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t take courage to stand up and try to make the world better.”

“No. I’m afraid that doesn’t sound like a true act of courage, not if he stands to benefit like that.”

Forseti sighed, “Fine, but I still have one more try.”

“Yes, you do,” Erebus said. “If you want you can give up now and save yourself the embarrassment?”

Ignoring Erebus, Forseti looked out at the crowd as it began to smash windows and tear open doors.  He had to admit, humanity was destructive. And selfish. And unsympathetic. He was beginning to wonder if he had been wrong.

He reached out and for the last time and turned the hourglass. As time slowed, they found themselves inside a house. A large window looked out onto neatly manicured grass. Bookshelves lined two sides of the room, each one littered with small items: candles, glass figurines, picture frames and other knick knacks.

In the middle of the room sat a young girl. She was no older than 10 and was playing with a small rubber ball. She began bouncing it on the floor. Bouncing it harder and harder, sending it higher and higher each time. And each time deftly catching it. The girl stood up from the floor and, putting all her strength behind it, bounced it as hard as she could. Instead of going straight up the ball flew across the room and bounced into one of the bookshelves. As it did it sent a small glass ballerina to the floor, snapping a raised arm and leg off the figurine.

Erebus looked puzzled and said, “How exactly do you…” Before he could finish Foresti raised a hand to silence him.

The girl ran over to the remains of the figurine. She looked around nervously as she carefully scooped up the pieces. She knew she would be in trouble. She had to hide it. There were so many other things on the shelves. She could get away with it. Surely her mother wouldn’t notice one missing.

After a moment of hesitation, she took a deep breath and turned around. She walked across the room, opened the door and went into the kitchen.  Her mother stood with her back to her. “Mom…” the girl's voice was practically a whisper. She had to repeat herself, barely louder the second time “Mom…”

“Yes dear?” Her mom replied.

“Mom…I…” The girl's voice cracked but she took another breath and carried on. “Mom, I broke your figurine.”

Her mother turned around and looked down at the remains of the figurine in her daughter's hand. She knelt down and picked up the remains of the figurine and said “It’s fine honey, accidents happen.” She leaned forward and wiped away a tear that had begun to run down her daughter's cheek, “I’m just proud that you told me.”

A smirk darted across Forseti’s face. “That shouldn’t count,” Erebus groaned. “That wasn’t very courageous!”

“What is that but courage?” Forseti said “She had no other motives. It was pure. One small act is all it takes, one moment to do what is right in the face of fear. That is true courage.”

Erebus pulled a face that suggested he was battling through different emotions. Annoyance led to frustration. Frustration led to anger. Eventually a look of acceptance settled across his features.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll let you have this one.” He removed a quill and a small roll of parchment from his robes.

“So, what does that bring us to?” Forseti asked.

“We are now even,” Erebus said. He scratched a thin black line in a column marked with Forseti’s name. “For now. But next time, I get to choose the game.”

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