Member-only story
And Then There Were Six
It’s a small world. Small enough to fit in our hands.
Those We Call The ‘Others’
It’s their fault.
Who?
I don’t know. Them, those that aren’t us. The others.
Okay, time for a reality check.
It’s relieving to have something to blame other than ourselves, isn’t it? Especially if that something doesn’t have a face. Only a name — an obscure one at that. An epithet to which we can direct our hatred.
These kinds of bias have been the ground zero for many enduring conflicts. It’s a meager spark that ignites hellfire. Holocaust, genocide, ethnic cleansing, the World Wars — you name it.
Pitting two sides against each other on the battlefield won’t bring neither glory nor salvation, not even for the one victorious. Warfare only ushers death and suffering.
History bares itself open for us to contemplate, and if there is one good thing we can learn from its bloodstained chapters, it’s this:
There are no others. Only us.
In this unanimous, tight-knit world, humanity is a singular entity. A vast gestalt which parts are only separated by several degrees.
