A World Without the West
Coming out of his sociology class, Jayson was stoked. Wading into current events, his instructor, Professor Berger, had mentioned that not only did Joe Biden offer developing nations “climate reparations” at the recent COP27 climate summit, but that their university had agreed to drop its Western Civ. requirement. “Finally,” he thought, “progress!” as he got into his car to make the 50-minute trip to his girlfriend’s house to meet her parents. Jayson was still mad, though. “I hate this @#$^&*! Western society,” he said to himself, “with its structural racism, patriarchal and heteronormative oppression — and Christian fundies. We’ve gotta end it!” Yet he was risking ending himself. Fiddling with his electronics while trying to play some music and, again, quite exercised, he didn’t notice he was taking the approaching curve a bit too fast and that, after the day’s rains, some mud was slickening the road. Fear coursed through him as he lost control of the car — and spun down into a gully.
Jayson woke up, confused. He was in a forest and could tell it was morning. He had some scrapes and bruises and some dried blood on his head. “Oh, yeah, I was in an accident. But where’s my car?” he wondered, looking about. “I musta been here for a while because ... yeah, that’s right, it was early evening when I left class. I’ve gotta find help.” Jayson commenced walking.
“Where’s the road?” he thought. “I just skidded down that hill — and, wait, where’s the hill?” He was perturbed, to say the least, and the apprehension only grew as he walked, and walked and walked, and found nothing but forest. But then his heart leapt; he heard some voices. Quickly walking toward the sound, he came to a clearing — and then he heard a thud. Turning left, he saw an arrow in a tree mere feet away. Jayson then instinctively looked toward the direction it came from. “Huh? What?! Those look like ... ‘native Americans!’” Startled and confused, Jayson hesitated for a moment even as these frightening-looking people were running toward him, closing fast. He reacted and turned and bolted just soon enough so that another arrow narrowly missed its mark. He ran desperately, as fast as he could. Having done track in high school, Jayson was still fleet of foot; nonetheless, he could sense his pursuers’ menacing proximity. Coming to a small valley in the forest, he proceeded down its slope without breaking stride, only to learn it quickly steepened. Panicked and trying to turn, he slipped on the muddy ground and slid and tumbled and skidded. Screaming, rolling end over end, he splashed. It was cold river water, just sufficiently deep to break his fall enough to preclude broken bones — and fast moving. The rapids were a perilous blessing: They carried him swiftly away from the human menace, depositing him several hundred feet downstream.
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