Braving the Dark

It had started gradually one evening, many years ago. The exact date was hotly debated, neighbors even turning against each other over disagreement on this point, but the experience seemed universal.

There was a faint dimming of the lights. Then little inefficiencies in the appliances. Over time, the lights flickered more frequently. The refrigerator ceased to get that cool and the oven ceased to get that warm. In summer, the fan worked about half the time. In winter, cold air seeped in about all the time.

Residents’ complaints to the property manager grew louder.

Someone would be sent out to make basic repairs. Information would circulate about how to get the most out of aging appliances or do-it-yourself insulation.

Over time, these temporary fixes ceased to be enough. And during these times, agents representing seemingly unrelated companies would show up at residents’ doors. Offering premier cable packages. Offering vacations to faraway places. Offering answers to questions that hadn’t been asked.

A few bought in, eager to take their mind away from the issues that plagued them. But most just grew louder.

Then came the rolling blackouts.

The news of evictions in a different part of town.

Agents representing the property manager came to the doors of remaining residents and said that these other residents had caused the problem. That it would all be better once these others—who were nothing like the good, principled residents of this part of town—were gone.

Some residents believed this. And cheered for more evictions.

Some residents didn’t but held their tongues, worried that they weren’t so different from these others. And that they could be next.

Some residents didn’t and openly voiced their complaints.

But, once more, agents representing seemingly unrelated companies showed up. And offered the same premier cable packages. And vacations to faraway places. And, most crucially, small, battery-operated lights.

And, this time, just about everybody took the lights. And, of course, nobody could blame them. Because these lights allowed them to continue cooking. And working. And learning. And playing.

In short, the lights allowed them to continue navigating their lives as normally as possible. Which is to say as near as possible to the abnormal lives they’d lived before the blackouts.

More than that, these lights had the effect of dulling everything beyond, utterly erasing it from consciousness. Which may have been the point.

Just about everybody took the lights.

Except for one old woman.

For the first several days, residents heard this woman bumbling through the dark. They laughed at her and called her foolish. Some even said that, if she liked the darkness so much, perhaps this woman should live in the other part of town.

The woman heard all these words and was deeply hurt. But still she did not take the light.

And, very soon, she became so adept at negotiating the space around her that neighborhood kids started to notice. They approached her and asked why she did not take the light.

To which she smiled and said she was glad they had asked.

She said that she did not take the light because it was a false light. She wanted to learn to see in the dark.

The kids asked why.

And the woman looked at them with a mix of curiosity and pity. She hesitated, pondering how much to say. In the end, she simply said they would see.

And, two days later, they did.

Because the thing about those temporary lights was that they worked quite well until they didn’t. And when they failed, the residents bumped things and bruised things until they eventually had to stop in their tracks.

And it was during this period of darkness that the sound came of breaking windows. And shortly thereafter heavy footsteps. And shortly thereafter screams and shouts.

The evictions had come to their part of town.

In the aftermath, a state of anxiety hung in the air. Like a line of clothes with no one there to collect it.

Several households approached the old woman and she told what she had seen.

She said that she had wanted to stop it. But that she was only one.

Everything repeated.

New batteries were delivered to power the lights. And the residents moved about once more.

This time with a handful of residents, especially kids, refusing to use their lights.

These residents struggled to adapt. And then they did.

The lights worked well for everyone else. And then they didn’t.

The neighborhood was intact. And then it wasn’t.

The old woman and those who’d gone without lights traveled from house to house checking on residents. Telling them exactly what had happened. Offering to help with anything damaged or anyone hurt.

The most striking moment came when the old woman arrived at the homes of those who had previously ridiculed her.

She demanded no apology and they did not offer one.

They simply asked her how she knew it would get so bad.

And she shook her head.

Said she didn’t know it would get so bad, but that she could remember a time when it had.

Said when the small lights were delivered, it was like she was being told this was the best she could hope for. And she couldn’t accept that.

Because she remembered a time when there was a lot more light and the appliances worked and the threat of eviction didn’t live on the streets of this town—any part of this town.

The old woman said all this and watched the residents—this audience held captive by the dark—as they listened intently, nodding along, fearful eyes giving way to a sort of wary resolve.

But she saw the fear that remained.

And so she took their hands, one by one, as if to remind them she was still there. That she would remain right there.

And she said one thing, said to her long ago, that had given her strength. That gave her strength now. And it gave them all strength now.

New batteries were soon delivered to power the lights.

But, this time, they were never used.

Instead, the residents learned to navigate the dark. And looked with dismay on what had become normal.

The residents stopped the evictions. And then they demanded more.

They weren’t going to stop until they got it.

When anyone grew discouraged, they needed only look around. And the words said by that remarkable woman, the words once said to her, would soon arrive, an elixir to the harshest malady.

It is in facing this most total darkness that we learn to imagine a brighter way.

Today, we brave the dark. Tomorrow, the light.