Log: At the HeliX booth, Saturday afternoon

[x-forge.livejournal.com]

Almost at the same time as Tommy's incident, Forge has a meeting with a most unexpected visitor to the HeliX booth. A rather civil and informative conversation is had.



Forge smiled, filling a paper cup with water from the cooler he'd
brought in the back of the Jeep. Six hours, and everything was going
remarkably well. The presence of the FoH rally actually seemed to be a
bit of a godsend, with the more vehement speakers keeping the
attention of any of the local troublemakers. The small setup the HeliX
group had arranged had perhaps three or four dozen locals walk by, but
at least half of them had asked questions, and mostly the responses
seemed positive.

Glancing to the booth, Forge snickered as he watched Doug jabber on in
Greek with one of the locals, while Jennie was apparently explaining
DNA to his children with the use of... sock puppets? Well, he thought,
if it worked...

"Excuse me," the interruption brought Forge's attention to full bear.
"Are you with this group?"

He turned to see an older man in slacks and a polo shirt standing by
the front of the Jeep, hands tucked into his pockets. Nodding, Forge
set his cup down and walked over, extending a hand.

"John Forge. And yes, I'm with HeliX. We're a group of students from
the Xavier school, up northwest of town." The man's handshake was
firm, and his reaction to Forge's metal arm sticking out from his
shirt was imperceptible.

"Bill Buckley," the older gentleman responded. "I'm the local vice-chair
of the Salem Center chapter of the Friends of Humanity." Buckley's smile
didn't leave his face, which made Forge feel no more at ease, cold
chills running down his spine. This felt oddly like the enemy general
walking into his camp, and that rarely meant anything good.

"We've got a permit to be here," Forge answered defensively, but Buckley
just chuckled, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

"Simmer down, son. No one's arguing that. No need for any trouble.
We've made it abundantly clear to some of our more... impassioned
brothers and sisters that this is just a peaceful demonstration,
nothing more. If y'all have been noticing, everyone's pretty much kept
their distance." He leaned casually against the Jeep, eyeing Forge
with a critical stare now, taking in his prosthetics. "You mind if I
bend your ear for a bit?"

"Not at all," Forge found himself replying, trying to remain casual
despite the butterflies in his stomach. "I'd be happy to answer any
questions you've got. It's why we're here today."

"I was actually about to offer the same thing," Buckley replied, "I can
probably guess you've got a bit of an incomplete idea of what we're
about, and given... certain incidents, I can't hardly blame you."

"I've read the website," Forge said dryly, "and it didn't mention
assault and arson anywhere, so I figured it was possibly a bit
incomplete."

At the veiled accusation, Buckley's smile faded. "See here," he stated
firmly, "What those boys did isn't what the Friends are about. What
we're concerned with, why we're here today, is protecting our future."

"Protecting the future?" Forge was honestly intrigued, giving Buckley
his full attention. "How do you mean?"

"It's like this," the older man began, pulling one of the HeliX
brochures out of his pocket. "Your paper here, Mr. Xavier compares the
mutant situation to the civil rights situation in the sixties. I was
in school when Brown versus Board of Education passed, you know,
integrating the schools?" Forge nodded, and Buckley continued. "My
father even marched with Dr. King, when he came up here. Real
controversial move, those folks working for equality, but it was what
was right, and for the best."

"And that's what we're trying to do," Forge insisted politely. "Like
you've said, the situation now isn't all that different."

"Ah, but it is," Buckley countered with a raised finger. "You see, other
than people's ingrained prejudices, there wasn't any danger to
integration. Putting black children and white children into a school
together didn't pose a threat to anyone's job, anyone's well-being or
way of life."

Forge blinked, reminding himself that this was a civil discussion and
not to raise his voice in offense. "And accepting mutants as equal
members of society is going to do that? Threaten your established way
of life?"

Buckley turned, resting his hands on the hood of the Jeep and nodding to
the group of students talking and laughing by the booth. "Mutants,
y'all can do things. Read about it, seen it on the news. Stuff us
regular people can't. Doesn't mean you're all dangerous - that'd be
like saying all Mexicans are lazy or all black people are criminals.
Bad stereotype. But the fact is," he went on, "you can do a lot of
things that can change stuff, and not always for the best." His eye
fell on Clarice and he nodded his head to her. "Your gal friend there,
the purple one. She really an EMT like her jacket says?"

Forge nodded proudly. "Has been for a few months now. Works as hard as
anyone else to do her part." Smiling, Buckley drummed his fingers
against the vehicle.

"Good to see kids, any kids, doing that. And what's she do, you know,
her special thing?" he asked earnestly. Pondering for a moment, Forge
answered.

"She's a teleporter. Can move herself and other things between places
without actually having to cross distance. It's an amazing ability,
and when you think about her job, it's useful. Imagine being able to
get an accident victim to the hospital straight from the scene,
without the time it takes an emergency vehicle to get there." Forge
folded his arms and smiled, proud to be able to make a convincing
argument.

Buckley raised a finger and made a 'tsk' noise in objection. "I'm not
going to disagree, but the ambulance driver might. She's one gal -
what happens when you get a lot of them who can do that? You change
the system. Power like that, could put a lot of folks out of their
jobs. I mean, who'd want to pay for FedEx shipping when you could send
a package across town in seconds, right?" He nodded in response to his
own question, then posed one for Forge. "Y'all study at that special
school outside of town, right? One that's been on the news a few
times?" At Forge's affirmative nod, Buckley went on, "I know you've had
a few run-ins with some troublemakers acting in the Friends' name.
These things happen. But up there at your school, you don't live too
bad, I don't think. You don't mingle, you don't interfere, everything
runs smooth for the most part."

Things clicked into place in Forge's head. "Separate but equal," he
remembered from Mr. Dayspring's Humanities class. "You don't have a
problem with mutants, so long as we keep our place, and don't rock the
boat."

Buckley spread his hands. "I don't think any right-thinking person does.
Here's the thing: imagine schools like yours, subsidized by the
government. Helping young fellows like yourself and your friends make
the best of your differences. Communities where you could live a full
life, make a decent living, raise your families like we've all got a
God-given right to. That sound pretty good?"

Forge almost found himself nodding to the man's charismatic delivery,
then caught himself. "Reservations," he said flatly. "You're talking
about reservations."

Buckley clapped his hands, nodding. "It's a compromise that our people
are trying to lobby for in Washington. I think people would be willing
to see their tax dollars going to support it, if it keeps their way of
life stable. Union steelworkers won't lose their jobs to one mutant
who can do the work of ten. People can sleep easier not worrying if
their co-workers can tell what they're thinking at work. And kids like
you and your friends can have the knowledge that you can live safe
with your own people, living the American Dream without any kind of
interference. Now, Mr. Forge, that doesn't seem too unreasonable, does
it?"

"And you're saying all of your people see things this way?" Forge
asked, his attention partially drawn by a rather fiery speaker across
the park, his words barely audible even through the large speakers
flanking his stage. "Pardon me for saying so, Mr. Buckley, but most of
the Friends of Humanity I've come into contact with are a bit more...
forceful in their philosophies. Advocating violence, talks that lean
more towards concentration camps than this reservation system you're
proposing." Forge steepled his fingers together in thought. "On the
initial listen, you make a pretty good case. Until you actually take a
look at it in practice. We're not trying to preserve a people or a
culture - we were born into it, the same as you and yours. Mutants
aren't trying to take over. Well," he corrected, "there's the
radicals, but like you just said - that's a bad stereotype. Clarice
doesn't replace her team, she works alongside them. A lot of the
students at the school have outside jobs," Don't mention that Jamie
has six, he thought. "We want to be part of society, not apart
from it. And we do have that right, Mr. Buckley."

Buckley brushed a thumb over his chin, nodding slowly. "I can respect
that," he finally said. "You've got conviction, son. But it'll be a
hard row to hoe, and I'm not sure in the end it'll be the best way.
Time'll tell." He extended a hand to Forge, smiling again. "It's been
an honest pleasure, son. I do wish you and yours the best."

"I wish I could say the same about 'yours', Mr. Buckley," Forge said,
accepting the handshake. "We aren't seeing eye to eye here, but I
appreciate your candor. Thanks for your time."

"Thank you, son," Buckley said as he turned to go. "And good luck."

Comments

[x-sanfuaiyaa.livejournal.com]

And this is why Shiro isn't participating today. He'd have just blasted this guy clear across the city for making such ignorant and idiotic statements. Christ. Which one of his arguments should we pick apart first? ;)

[x-mirage.livejournal.com]

*dani screeches*

[x-roulette.livejournal.com]

While Jennie makes the sock puppet vomit. What a load of hooey.

[x-cypher.livejournal.com]

Nicely done.

The danger isn't the violent extremists, it's people like that. Who _sound_ reasonable on the surface.

[x-foliate.livejournal.com]

Um. At least he was polite?

(And once again, I'm afraid of people from the South. Good job. Meep.)

[x-traitor.livejournal.com]

(Umm sweetie, I am from the South. Most people aren't like that anymore...really.)

[x-foliate.livejournal.com]

(Not gonna eat me?)

(No, I'm sorry. Ignorant Canadian joking, I should have thought to mention I didn't mean it. Feel free to ask me if I live in an igloo, just this once. *smiles*)

[x-traitor.livejournal.com]

(it's okay really, I'm just over senstive about it then most, after I had a teacher totally say *everybody* in the south is evil and still believe in slavery and all that. Since half of my family is from the area where Flordia, Alabama and Georgia meet...yeah was quite insulted)

(You mean you don't live in igloos? ;) )

[x-siryn.livejournal.com]

(No but they all have mooses as pets. *g*)

[x-forge.livejournal.com]

(And play hockey and eat back bacon with every meal.)

[x-foliate.livejournal.com]

(I hear you. I had a professor last year that repeatedly made cracks about the area of town where I live. I know he was joking, hell, I make the same jokes myself, but only I'M allowed to make them, you know? Mrr.)

(Psh. No. It's summer time; teepee all the way. *insults more cultures, whee!*)

[x-polarisstar.livejournal.com]

(I, on the other hand, can't be offended by any Californian joke since they're all true.)

[x-cypher.livejournal.com]

Yeah, they are! ;-)

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Very well done, Forge. I'm proud of you.

Excellent log.

[x-siryn.livejournal.com]

Good job, Forge. Lorna says so too.