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troyswann by nos4a2no9
Prompt number #31: Bob Fraser (and Fraser, natch): "I can see right through you."
Rated: G
Word Count: 515 words
Title: Ordinary Justice
He first encountered the strange little anthropological tidbit in one of the musty old volumes that comprised his grandparent’s library collection. The book was only a minor work in the field of punitive justice. It was a very dry and tiresome read, and if Fraser had not been so interested in the subject he probably would have abandoned it in favor of a more compelling text. And there it was, halfway through the book, sandwiched between an account of Mayan methods of execution and a short article on prison life in the fourteenth century:
In ancient times, a person who stood outside the law of a culture was considered dead by ordinary people.
The sentence remained with him, year after year, like the long lines of “Paradise Lost,” the convoluted imagery of Joyce, or the daylight’s dauphin forever engraved on his heart. To stand outside one’s culture was to be as one dead: the idea had intellectual resonance long before he began to live it.
When a spare moment presented itself in his duties, or when he spent a sleepless night in a lonely bed, he often found himself contemplating the implications of the phrase. Fraser knew that certain Inuit tribes, like the Inuvialuit, preferred to banish people who had acted against the interests of the community. That was what constituted a crime in the wild places of the earth, of course. The act could be selfish in nature, or simply unwise. It could involve murder, or the hoarding of precious foodstuffs, or the killing of more animals than one could reasonably carry home and use. The only possible punishment against such transgressions was banishment, because it was clear to the Inuvialuit that if one acted against the community one acted alone. One must therefore always be alone.
Whenever he contemplated this idea Fraser could not help but conclude that the Inuvialuit practiced an unusually cruel sort of justice.
He wondered what might constitute the “law of the culture,” and who the “ordinary” people were meant to be. More than that, he often forced himself to picture those who had trespassed and were rendered dead, passing over the earth as illegitimate ghosts. And when his father made his stunning confession about Muldoon (which was only the latest and final entry in a long line of stunning confessions from his deceased father) Fraser immediately thought of his favorite sentence from the anthropological text. His father had been banished from heaven – hell? limbo? some realm as yet uncharted by human philosophy? – and lingered as one dead. In those final moments, before his father faded from his life for the last time, Fraser finally believed he understood the meaning behind the idea that had eluded him for so long. Justice, wrapped up in a neat and presentable package.
“I can see right through you,” he said to himself in the cold air of the mineshaft, thinking of banishment and the damnation of eternal alone-ness. “I can see what’s behind it.”
And for the first time Fraser wondered who exactly was being punished, and for what.
troyswann by nos4a2no9Prompt number #31: Bob Fraser (and Fraser, natch): "I can see right through you."
Rated: G
Word Count: 515 words
Title: Ordinary Justice
He first encountered the strange little anthropological tidbit in one of the musty old volumes that comprised his grandparent’s library collection. The book was only a minor work in the field of punitive justice. It was a very dry and tiresome read, and if Fraser had not been so interested in the subject he probably would have abandoned it in favor of a more compelling text. And there it was, halfway through the book, sandwiched between an account of Mayan methods of execution and a short article on prison life in the fourteenth century:
In ancient times, a person who stood outside the law of a culture was considered dead by ordinary people.
The sentence remained with him, year after year, like the long lines of “Paradise Lost,” the convoluted imagery of Joyce, or the daylight’s dauphin forever engraved on his heart. To stand outside one’s culture was to be as one dead: the idea had intellectual resonance long before he began to live it.
When a spare moment presented itself in his duties, or when he spent a sleepless night in a lonely bed, he often found himself contemplating the implications of the phrase. Fraser knew that certain Inuit tribes, like the Inuvialuit, preferred to banish people who had acted against the interests of the community. That was what constituted a crime in the wild places of the earth, of course. The act could be selfish in nature, or simply unwise. It could involve murder, or the hoarding of precious foodstuffs, or the killing of more animals than one could reasonably carry home and use. The only possible punishment against such transgressions was banishment, because it was clear to the Inuvialuit that if one acted against the community one acted alone. One must therefore always be alone.
Whenever he contemplated this idea Fraser could not help but conclude that the Inuvialuit practiced an unusually cruel sort of justice.
He wondered what might constitute the “law of the culture,” and who the “ordinary” people were meant to be. More than that, he often forced himself to picture those who had trespassed and were rendered dead, passing over the earth as illegitimate ghosts. And when his father made his stunning confession about Muldoon (which was only the latest and final entry in a long line of stunning confessions from his deceased father) Fraser immediately thought of his favorite sentence from the anthropological text. His father had been banished from heaven – hell? limbo? some realm as yet uncharted by human philosophy? – and lingered as one dead. In those final moments, before his father faded from his life for the last time, Fraser finally believed he understood the meaning behind the idea that had eluded him for so long. Justice, wrapped up in a neat and presentable package.
“I can see right through you,” he said to himself in the cold air of the mineshaft, thinking of banishment and the damnation of eternal alone-ness. “I can see what’s behind it.”
And for the first time Fraser wondered who exactly was being punished, and for what.
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no subject
Date: 2006-12-21 12:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-21 12:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-21 12:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-21 12:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-21 12:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-21 12:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-21 03:34 am (UTC)the idea had intellectual resonance long before he began to live it.
So much packed into that statement. The tone of this story is just so, because it's like Fraser himself, contemplative and smooth on the outside and so deeply... hurt? on the inside (troubled waters, if you see what I mean).
“I can see right through you,” he said to himself in the cold air of the mineshaft, thinking of banishment and the damnation of eternal alone-ness. “I can see what’s behind it.”
Oh man, that's a wonderful extension of my prompt, "I can see what's behind it." And the end, ow ow ow, wow.
Thank you so much!
no subject
Date: 2006-12-21 04:41 am (UTC)you know, penal practice is my area of research and I ponder these kinds of things all the time and so this is the most perfect thing ever
I did not know, and I guess it all makes for a fantastic coincidence :-) I had originally planned to do something with a younger Bob and a much younger Fraser sick with the measles, but...well, I'm glad I went for the punitive justice angle. Unless, of course, you're also into infectious diseases. (And who isn't?). The big sentence actually came from some assigned reading I did for a grad seminar on race and gender (headed by Donald Goellnicht - was he around when you were at Mac?). If I remember correctly, the article looked at how outsiders of all stripes are punished and what the implications are in a racially and economically stratified society. I just wish I could remember who the author was, because I'm sure they'd be happy to know that their Serious Research is being used for fanfic purposes ;-)
Thanks for all the terrific feedback and the squee, and I'm so glad you liked the story. I hope you have a very happy holiday! (And, um, write some more stuff, okay?)
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Date: 2006-12-21 06:58 am (UTC)Oh yeah, Don! He once caught me standing on the radiator in my t.a. office singing "don't cry for me Argentina" or something while wrasslin' my window blinds. Never failed to reduce me to absolute incoherence and idiocy just be looking at me. Really lovely man though, and smark liek woah.
And really, you're right, who isn't into infectious diseases? ;)
Thank you again. No need to feel worried at all at all at all. *hugs holiday story* yay! Happy happy holiday!
no subject
Date: 2006-12-21 09:05 am (UTC)(I also think, because I'm a wuss and because it's Christmas, that somebody should do an impromptu rescue of Fraser. Dief? Vecchio? Kowalski? Thatcher? Frannie? Anyone?)
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Date: 2006-12-23 12:32 am (UTC)And yes, you're right. Someone should stage a Fraser-rescue. Perhaps it'll be a team effort :-)
Thank you for the feedback. Merry Christmas!
no subject
Date: 2006-12-21 07:03 pm (UTC)Poor Fraser :(
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Date: 2006-12-23 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-22 12:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-23 12:33 am (UTC)