by Clara Riggio
How do we know when the apocalypse starts? Is a nation-wide alert going to pop up on our phones and tell us that it has officially begun? Is mass violence going to break out like in “The Purge”? Could it be that it has already started?
Octavia Butler is rolling in her grave at that last question. She knows the answer already. She told us the answer already.
Though it may seem cliché or a bit delusional of me to claim that anyone predicted the future (let alone a science fiction novelist), I think it might just be the answer we need. Being aware of the apocalypse in its early stages may be similar to catching a cancerous tumor before it’s able to spread to a vital organ. We may be on the brink of something. We may be able to stop it.
“Parable of the Sower” by Octavia Butler tells the story of a teenage girl growing up in a mid-apocalyptic Los Angeles suburb in the year 2024. Her gated cul-de-sac community is mildly protected from the outside world that has become the poster child for a dystopian hellscape. Dismembered bodies lie in the street, water has become more expensive than food, and a new drug called ‘pyro’ has made arson a more common crime than ever. Lauren Olamina is only fifteen but is well aware of the ongoing situation. Olamina was born with hyperempathy syndrome which allows her to feel the pain of others as long as they are alive and experiencing it. She later explains that the world might be a better place if we all suffered from her condition.
As we later learn in “Parable of the Talents,” the first inklings of the apocalypse began in 2015. This is when ‘The Pox’ began. Though ‘Pox’ is probably short for apocalypse, it’s hard not to associate the word with disease. Could the apocalypse begin with an epidemiological disaster as contagious as Chicken Pox once was? Is a pandemic just the first stone to fall before the avalanche?
Butler makes it quite clear that the cause of the Pox is negligence. In “Parable of the Talents” she writes, “…the Pox was caused by accidentally coinciding climatic, economic, and sociological crises. It would be more honest to say that the Pox was caused by our own refusal to deal with obvious problems in those areas. We caused the problems then we sat and watched as they grew into crises.” (Butler, 8). I wonder what exact crises occurred to create this perfect storm. Forest fires? Floods? Civil Rights protests? The threat of nuclear war?
On top of this, identity politics are as common as ever. Though this isn’t exactly a prediction on Butler’s part, there is one uncanny prediction that I can’t seem to get over. The election of 2032 is a current event in “Parable of the Talents” and one of the candidates is an Evangelical Christian named Andrew Steele Jarret. Jarret warns of devil worship and condemns essentially every religion outside of Christianity. As the world crumbles, it makes sense that politics becomes more rooted in morality and pegging peoples’ values against each other, but this is not the most striking prediction. What struck me was Jarret’s campaign message which is mentioned in the very first chapter of Talents: “Join us! Our doors are open to every nationality, every race! Leave your sinful past behind, and become one of us. Help us to make America great again!” (Butler, 20). Chills! Literal chills!
So, why am I telling you all of this? Just to remind you that our timeline is fucked? Because I want you to read the book? Because I want you to change the world? A little bit of all and a little bit of none. Sometimes there are books that reach out and grab you. They change the way you think and rewire something in your brain. While giving us the story of Lauren Olamina, Butler also gives us her beliefs and the religion of Earthseed. She restores in us our sovereignty and our ability to enact change, even within our own minds.
All that you touch
You Change
All that you Change
Changes You
The only lasting truth
Is Change
God
Is Change
I guess my message in all of this is to read Parable and see how she shapes you. She may be able to give comfort or, god forbid, hope during our own bout of the Pox.
