Karma doesn’t care if you believe in it, and maybe it’s the same with the Force. It doesn’t matter if I believe in the Force- I can recognize a Darth Vader when I see one, waiting for the 165, holding his cape to avoid salt stains. Important is my ability to recognize Vader as a threat, and I do. With my luck, he sits next to me, breathing all dramatic. Something about his son. I turn up my music, a song by a rapper in the Rebel Alliance, to drone him out. The batteries in my personal energy shield die. Quiet, save for his breathing. We’re the only two on the bus. It’s dark outside, too, at 3 AM. Members of the Dark Side, like Mr. Vader, are easy to recognize, dressed in all black, but I don’t think they care. I care because I know it is essential to my survival, because you don’t understand fear until you meet a Dark Jedi on the 165. I look in his eyes… all I see is black.
My instinct to discriminate relies on the actions of the Dark Side, too: Vader, here, dozing off, has to believe that his violence will secure his spot as the next Supreme Chancellor. Those actions, against me, will legitimate my ideas on the stereotype of Vader. He yells something harmless in his sleep, coming out frightening in his voice.
I told you: I’m vegan.
The Stormtroopers, plastic armor squeaking in trenches, have to believe that they will benefit from their violence, too: You are fighting for your long-term interests- You’re not just the most privileged of the oppressed droids. Success relies on their ability to fight, and, well, find me. You are biologically the smartest droids – go get em – they’re trying to take that from you. Fuck C-3P0.
You might not believe in the Force, droids laugh digital shrills- it does not matter. Success for both sides relies on your ability to feel special and threatened, too busy to examine what is really happening to the droids, because nobody wants Star Wars meets Terminator.
That’s it- bring this back, I mean, I’m Darth fucking Vader here. Seriously though.