“If they don’t, they soon will.”
“So then why don’t we give up? Seems like it would be easier. I’m fucking tired, Professor. And so are you. Don’t bullshit me. I can see it in your eyes. I feel like I just want to give up. So why can’t I?”
“Well, there are a lot of reasons why someone would continue to fight even when there’s no chance of success. For some it’s an individual choice; an aspect of one’s core belief system that says ‘I’m going down swinging.’ That’s especially prevalent in the past few generations, who were exposed to such iconography in cowboy films and Stallone movies. Others may fight because they’ve been culturally conditioned to never give up, to believe that there is some kind of inherent nobility in raging against an unbeatable foe. I don’t know you very well, Lamar, but from what you’ve told me about yourself and your childhood, and from what I’ve observed about your character, I’d say that second one applies to you.”
“Yeah, maybe. I guess that’s fair. My mother always taught me to be proud and never surrender.”
“I thought as much. And that is a very fine and noble lesson.”
“Doesn’t apply to everybody, though.”
“No, it doesn’t. Others may be motivated to keep fighting because they simply don’t know what else to do.”
“How about you, Professor? What keeps you going?”
“Me?” He laughed softly. “I think I’m like many others. I think we continue to fight because an element of our collective unconscious demands that we do so. Even at my age.”
“What’s a collective unconscious?”
“The collective unconscious is a theory—one I happen to agree with. Basically, it says that people all over the world share a set of unconscious memories that have been passed down through the generations ever since mankind learned to walk upright. These aren’t regular memories like when you remember your high school prom or your first kiss or where you were on the morning of September Eleventh, but rather, unconscious memories that are hardwired into the brains of everyone who’s ever lived. They act as a sort of blueprint, influencing human behavior and making people naturally respond to certain situations in certain ways. For example, you can go to any spot on the planet and people with whom you don’t share a culture or a language will automatically understand that your smile is a sign of happiness, or a frown, displeasure. These are universal signals. If you are crying, they’ll know that you are sad or in pain. Ask yourself, why is that? How can people of different cultures all around the world interpret certain things exactly the same way?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because we’ve all been hardwired by the collective unconscious to respond to those stimuli that way. Sometimes for good. Sometimes for bad.”
“You mean like these gay-bashers who could never explain to me why they felt the way they did?”
“That’s certainly a valid example,” the professor said. “I’m sure you’ve dealt with individuals who were against homosexuality but didn’t understand why. They probably masked their bigotry with religious or moral beliefs, but deep down inside, their collective unconscious told them that homosexuality threatened mankind’s ability to procreate. Thus, they were repelled without truly understanding why.”
The professor’s pipe went out. Cupping his hand, he tried to relight it, but the breeze was too strong. I placed my hands around it as well. Once he got it going again, he continued.
“It’s not just our responses that are influenced, either. It’s also our behaviors. You see, the collective unconscious programs a set of figures into our brains, just like you’d program a computer. Psychologists call these figures, or characters, archetypes.
They act as role models for human behavior. Some of the most important of these archetypes are the ‘king,’ the ‘trickster,’ and the ‘warrior.’”
“You mentioned those before,” I said, thinking back to when I’d met him in the ship’s galley.
“I did, indeed. This happens to be a favorite topic of mine. I always enjoyed debating it at social gatherings—I even hosted a party once just so we could discuss it over dinner. Sadly, most of my colleagues are dead now.”
He was silent for a moment, puffing on his pipe. He seemed lost in thought.
“Its because of these archetypes,” he continued, “that everyone shares certain common conceptions about people; for example, in every culture that has ever existed, certain attributes like courage, strength, and fortitude have been attached to the ideal image of the warrior. All human beings, at an unconscious level, know that the figure of the warrior is part of our human makeup, and as such, we recognize the certain attributes that make up the warrior. A soldier on the news. A basketball player in the playoffs. We respond to these. And like it or not, it’s our job to either succeed or fail at living up to those attributes. Do you see?”
“When we first met, you said I was an archetype.”
“You are, indeed. You’re living up to those attributes—embarking on a journey of self-discovery. Even as the world falls into ruin, Lamar, you are being reborn. That’s a classic story; one that appeals to all mankind. You are the hero.”
“I’ve got to be honest, Professor. I don’t feel like much of a hero right now. I couldn’t even shoot the crazy fucker who killed Turn.”
“You may not feel like a hero. And yet, you are. Basically, the hero is a universal archetype that embodies the best and most revered qualities of a culture or society. However, the hero is not simply born. It is never that simple. The hero must be created, forged, if you will, in a fire of turmoil and trials. To do this he must go on a quest, which is what you’re doing right now.”
“A quest, huh? So, what am I looking for?”
“Well, my favorite authority on this subject, Joseph Campbell, referred to the quest as the hero’s journey. Different journeys have different treasures at the end. In your case, you are on a quest for self-discovery Campbell believed that, regardless of your culture or time frame, the basic structure of this journey is the same, and thus an archetype. He called it a monomyth. In its most basic form, during his or her quest, the hero experiences a call to adventure. They typically refuse or are hesitant about answering the call. They receive supernatural aid and cross the threshold, undergoing trials and tribulations before returning home bearing gifts or boons for their people.”
“That doesn’t sound like much of a self-discovery, Professor.”
“Well, perhaps not. But something that is very important to the formation of the hero is his journeying away from home and the ordinary—and entering a world of unfamiliarity, or what Campbell called ‘supernatural wonder.’ I think you’ll certainly agree that is what you’re currently experiencing. Wouldn’t you say? Think about it. You’ve left home, abandoned everything you ever knew. You’ve been thrust into a whole new world, left to care for a new family—”
“They’re not my family,” I interrupted. “I’m not the best person to be taking care of kids.”
“And yet you are, and they want you to be that person. And you haven’t shirked that responsibility, even though you could have done so very easily. You are here for them. You continue to exist for them, whether you even realize it or not. That’s a very selfless act, Lamar. And that’s an important aspect of the monomyth—the hero’s selflessness. He may first undergo his journey for his own self, but he returns and brings wisdom and order to his peo—ple. Thus the hero is a creation for all the people, not just the individual. Mythic heroes bring back large, worldly benefits. Things that affect everyone, not just the microcosm of a small community.”