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xp_logsPhillip has a long discussion with Layla about why the mutant situation on Genosha exists as it does.
Phillip took a long sip of the coffee he’d been left with by the green haired woman. Lorna had been her name. She’d made lunch and talked to Jenny and him about the school and the Xavier Institute and what they did here. He’d never guessed that such a place could exist. In Genosha, most of the news they got about mutants were the destruction they caused; Magneto’s extensive terrorism, the attack on New York City, killing millions in India. He’d never imagined that all of those situations had been stopped by other mutants, working with humans. His father had always said that the state censorship was more about protecting native Genoshan media, but he was quickly seeing that GNN and Channel 3 had been part of an organized slant to make sure that mutants outside of the country were viewed only as dangerous terrorists or fanatics. It just underlined the lies that had made up his life until now.
Jenny had been sent for some tests with the staff and to discuss her abilities and the potential for staying at the facility in Scotland. He’d been interested, but had begged off, wanting some time to process what he’d seen. Jenny was smarter than him, but he grew up at the feet of Genosha’s leading politician, and he tended to think about things in the big picture. In this case, Genosha’s big picture was growing more and more rotten by the hour. He took another sip and stared out the window at the estate grounds.
A cold draft blew in from the glass door Layla opened to get back inside. She had a paper grocery bag cradled in one arm, hair flying everywhere and her beanie just about obscuring her vision. Pulling the door closed behind her, she tried to clear her vision but instead she just obscured it completely. "I hate you inanimate objects, you suck!" She batted at the hat which let the door fly back open and the blonde went scrambling after it again.
Unfortunately, after the door was actually shut and her hat pulled off Layla realized she wasn't exactly alone. The guy wasn't really in the kitchen but he was close enough to be seen through the doorway. She shot him a somewhat sheepish smile. "It's not my fault, winter is fighting back and totally collaborating with like my hat to thwart me for totally unknown reasons. Because my karma blows."
"I'm not arguing. This whole winter thing looks like a very poorly thought out idea in the first place." Genosha was semi-tropical, so the cold end of the rainy season was about as close as he'd gotten to these temperatures in anything other than a skiing trip. "You need a hand?"
"Nah, I'm good, thanks." She set the bag down on the counter and walked closer to the guy while pulling her coat off. "Winter's not bad, actually. I mean, it sorta sucks since I can't skate unless I wanna kill myself but I hear ice skating it fun in that wearing tights and going to the Ice Capades kinda way. And there's hockey, snowball fights, sledding, tubing, snowboarding, skiing if you're lame like that even though you really shouldn't judge...but dude, really? Skiing?" She shook her head and in the process managed to clear some of her hair from her view.
"Oh, hey! You're one of the new wayward mutants, right? Actually, I dunno if you're a mutant, I just assume you are because, hi, you wound up here." She walked over until she was within arm's reach and offered a hand. "Hi, I'm Layla and my powers are kinda gross, you're...uh...the guy." The blonde's eyes shifted from side to side. "I'm so observant, huh? Sorry, totally spacing on what your name is."
"Phillip Moreau. And I'm not a mutant. My girlfriend is." He shook her hand, the easy grip of a politician's son. "We're here from Genosha, and Professor Xavier is letting us stay here for a few days while he runs some tests on Jenny and our paperwork gets sorted out."
"Oh, so you're just wayward." Layla grinned. "It's cool, we'll let it slide. But just for now. Because you have the potential to be cool but if it turns out you suck we'll throw you in the lake and if you're not lucky it won't be frozen all the way down." Her easy, joking tone made it clear she didn't mean that whole lake throwing thing. "So, you a strudel fan? Cookies? Cake? Pumpkin? I owe people for being awesome and people never complain about being repaid in food." A thumb over her shoulder indicated the paper bag she had set down. "Hence the groceries. But, you know, you're wayward and potentially cool so you get food, too." Layla tugged on Phillip's arm to get him to follow her back into the kitchen proper. "So what's Genosha like? People said something about blah blah blah political for you guys being here but it sorta went over my head. Politics so not like my forte or whatever, y'know? That shit gets complicated quick."
Phillip paused for a moment, trying to sort the barrage of questions into some kind of order in his head. "Uh, well, sure." He allowed himself to be dragged along. "We're technically seeking asylum in the United States. In Genosha, well, there's something like the draft for mutants, who work for our state resource companies. But in the last few years, there's been more and more stories about their rights being restricted and being treated more like slaves or something. So when Jenny was diagnosed, we fled here. Hopefully we can make public pressure force the government to tell the truth about their programs."
"Dude, it's a mutation, not cancer. You don't get like 'diagnosed' like it's a disease. That's like getting diagnosed with brown hair. Unless you think being a mutant's like having down syndrome or something." Her nose wrinkled. The wording sort of miffed Layla but she was genial and conversational rather than being hostile and antagonistic. People had fucked up views of what being a mutant was, whether or not they were mutants themselves. She got that. She just didn't like it. "But whaddya mean rights being restricted? Is it like some fucked up holocaust shit like they have to live in camps and only like talk to each other and 'their kind' and they can't have babies because they're all sterilized and they have to work the fucked up jobs like when sanitation pipes or whatever they're called burst and there is shit everywhere, literally? Like that kinda restricting rights or something else?" She was pulling groceries out of the bag as she rambled on, seemingly without a need for air at all.
Phillip didn't respond to her comment about diagnosed. Maybe things were more mutant positive here, but in Genosha, mutation was diagnosed. They were tested for it, and at the end of the day got a positive or a negative which would impact their entire lives. He remembered how relieved he'd been when his tests came back negative, and how crushed when Jenny's hadn't. Not because being a mutant was bad, but where he grew up, it meant that someone else was ultimately going to decide how you were allowed to live your life.
"It's, uh, a little more complicated than that. For decades, Genoshan mutations have been drafted by the government as special workers, mostly in the oil and gas wells on the sea bed north of Prenova. In addition to their wages, the government covers all of their living costs and medical care, but there are designated areas where they are allowed to live. It was implemented in the eighties, after a couple of manifestations accidentally killed hundreds of people." And boy, weren't those carefully covered in history classes all through school. "It used to be like getting drafted - you didn't get full control about where you were going to be sent, but you still had the same rights as everyone else. If the stories are true, that's the part that's changing."
Drafted for being a mutant? Layla made a face like she smelled something foul. "That's bullshit. Shit isn't all flower petals and rainbows here when you're a mutant but they don't fucking dictate what you can and can't do. There's that whole pretending everyone's equal or some shit like that. Which is sorta funny as hell because people like to invoke God a lot here, even in politics, but then the Jesus freaks are the first ones pulling out the fucking superiority of whoever they like best over everyone else. Mutants are pretty low rung, but a lot of us pass for baseline human easy." Layla shrugged. "Bad shit happens here with mutations starting or manifesting or whatever too. Sometimes people die. It gets in the newspapers and on like the news at five and shit. But people would throw such a fucking fit if someone decided they were gonna put mutants in work camps." She paused. "At least right now they would. A couple years ago when New York got trashed by a mutant taking it over maybe not so much." Layla frowned but continued what she was doing, pulling mixing bowls, pans and whatever else she needed out of various cupboards. "And maybe down the line they won't flinch either. But how do you even try to put that shit into action, y'know?"
Once Layla had all her ingredients and equipment arranged in front of her she gave Phillip her full attention. "I bring dead things back to life. I'm trying to figure out how to do that with a chick who can pull your life energy out of you and fucking reduce you to dust. My science teacher and pick you up with her mind and can probably totally fuck with your mind with hers. My German teacher can disappear and reappear somewhere else. My old math teacher could encase you in ice. And, what? They're going to just bow down and let you take them? They're not gonna put up a fight? You're gonna sacrifice the people who get killed trying to take people in and pretty much imprison them? Either you kill us or you take the weak, untrained ones who can't do much to you with their powers. But I know an eighth grader who can bench press a fucking tank and a senior who can convince your entire computer system to wipe itself and corrupt all its data. So what does your country do? Pull some fucking long range sniper tranq gun action and keep them all drugged? I don't care if you're raised knowing this shit is inevitable, people fight being enslaved unless you've got something to control them. So what do they have? The Nazis just had to have weapons in the concentration camps. If you have the bigger weapon you get submission eventually, even if you have to kill a few hundred people to convince the other thousands to behave. But mutants are the weapon. What does Genosha have that's bigger?" It was possible Layla was getting a little over passionate about it. She didn't like when people thought they could push other people around just because they were bigger, richer or smarter than the other people. It was fucked up and it made you a shitty human being, too.
"I don't think you really understand, Layla. The segregated communities aren't work camps surrounded by barbed wire and guards and the mutants are allowed to come and go as they please. They're middle class high-rises and tract housing that have special designs to protect against power accidents. It was the idea of the original eight to have separate, specially built areas where they could live without being afraid of accidentially hurting anyone. And the mutants who don't have powers with industrial uses are allowed to pursue other interests." Phillip shook his head. She wouldn't know about the Florian Elementary incident or the suicide that followed. "Maybe it's not possible to understand. I don't understand what it's like to be an Israeli or a South Korean facing a compulsory draft, because I'm not sharing a border with a lot more people who want me dead. What I do know is what happens to poor African countries when their economies fall apart."
He stopped. Arguing with his hosts wasn't polite, especially in defense of a country that he'd had to escape from. But the girl was comparing them to Nazis, and that wasn't right. "I'm not saying our system is right. But you're wrong if you think it's being done because we hate mutants or anything like that. Our heroes are mutants, who sacrificed their own ambitions to save Genosha. We left because we've heard rumours that's getting secretly twisted, and it's important that the truth comes out. Because if it's true, the Genoshan people won't accept it, any more than you would if you found out your government was trying to implement the ideas of the KKK."
"Twisted how?" She wasn't above admitting that maybe she wasn't seeing what he was saying accurately. But he said they were diagnosed as mutants, like it was AIDS, and that they had to work in these industries. "What can they do if they don't have 'useful' mutations? How long do they have to work in your pre-determined jobs? When you're drafted into the military you do a set number of years. Like two in Israel, I think. Or five, I think that's what our enlistment term is. And then you're done. When are mutants in your country done? What about the powers accidents that kill other mutants? What, baseline humans are important enough to protect from uncontrolled powers but mutants aren't? Are we that expendable? Are they trained in how to use them right or are they just conscripted and told to work. You make it out like it's all separate but equal, but if it's separate it's never equal. We learned that like fifty years ago with the black people being segregated out from white society." Okay, so maybe she wasn't an academic but she liked stories and Layla remembered the stories about civil rights well enough.
"I think I caught two of those twenty questions, Layla. I'm happy to try and answer, but you're building questions on your questions and I'm having a hard time following." Phillip wasn't used to fellow teenagers like Layla. His education had been in a Genoshan private school, modeled on the British ideas. Her mile a minute questions had him off guard. "Mutants in Genosha are required to live in government funded housing, that is designed to be better able to handle some kinds of unintentional powers accidents. See, it wasn't the case until the 80s, when in the space of a year, one manifestation and one powers flare killed over two hundred people. One of them destroyed the school that the mutant was attending, and killed every teacher and student in it. The other was just a poor bastard who caught a bad fever and had a bad reaction to some medication. Killed half the people in his apartment building, and then the EMT team trying to stabilize him from the fever hallucinations. He killed himself a week after the last funeral was done."
He stared into his cup. He hadn't even been born during the Black Year, but he remembered all the footage, the specials. He had noticed that they had been running more often lately, further deepening his suspicions that there was an intentional effort to increase the fear of mutants. But it didn't reduce the impact of the visuals; the burnt bodies of thirteen year olds being pulled from under the rubble, or the sobbing suicide video left for the police. "The Commission - that's the original eight mutants who saved Genosha from collapse in the late 60s - appealled to the government to provide a safe place for mutants where they had less of a chance to hurt others in case of accidents like this. So that's when the mutant districts were built, with special schools and hospitals designed to address some of those issues. Yes, they don't have a choice, but they aren't prisons or work camps. It doesn't look much different from any other suburb."
"So they get to leave? They get to go on vacation in some other part of the country whenever they want? But are there like mutant safe hotels for them? Do people get all butt hurt if they leave their like designated area or whatever? And say you don't like living there. But you're not allowed to ever live anywhere else, right? So you're screwed. Like do they have colleges? What're they allowed to do if they aren't fucking drafted into what is probably really fucking miserable work? You can travel, you can move to another city or another neighborhood, you can choose your school, you can choose your job. What right do you have to say someone else isn't entitled to those choices because of something they can't control? Like a fucking leper colony?" She was oddly calm as she grilled him with questions, most of her antagonistic edge dropping out of her voice when she reminded herself you caught more flies with honey. "I don't care how used to it they are, or that they accept they are fucked from the start, it's still fucked up to dictate what someone else can or cannot do. Do you have AIDS housing? Flu quarantine? Yeah, maybe they aren't as destructive but people die horrible, painful deaths from AIDS for years. Or from cancer. At least a mutation accident will probably kill you quicker. It's way fucking kinder than cancer."
"The problem is that a mutation accident can also kill a lot of innocent people around you. So who's rights matter more? Their right to safety or your right to live where you want to?" Phillip pointed out, which was the entire crux of the Genoshan system. "Genosha isn't a big, rich country like the United States. We're limited with the resources that we have to handle mutant powers and their emergence. It might sound wrong to you, but the enclave works. It's as safe as an environment that we can make for Genoshan mutants and humans. Having to live somewhere you don't want to is unfair, but so is being killed because you live next door to the wrong person."
Layla actually stared at him and blinked. It was like he was some sort of The Hills Have Eyes mutant. "Do you people, like, not have murder and serial killers and shit? Because here people sometimes bring guns to school and shoot the fucking place up. Most mutants, I think, aren't destructive. I mean their powers aren't. Like I know someone who can make illusions that look real or someone who has this sort of sonar thing and someone who is super strong. They aren't going to kill you by accident. Hell, I'm not going to kill you by accident but I might land myself in the hospital by bringing your dog back to life by accident. The point is? We're dangerous, but so is someone with a bomb and a grudge. Or someone with a gun who has the skill to use it. What do you do about all the other potential things that could kill everyone?"
"Yes, and we have strict gun laws so people can't just buy a gun and shoot up a school." He didn't understand the comparison. She lived in New York, which had been invaded by mutants. Did all manifestations in the US have some kind of system in place to keep them under control? "The enclave isn't about punishing mutants who have dangerous powers. Its the best solution with our resources to keep everyone - mutant or human Genoshan - safe."
"What about bombs," she asked while slicing into an apple. Layla offered a slice to Phillip while biting into a slice of her own. "I mean, you can find out how to make a pipe bomb online really easily, you know? Okay, so you can't shoot up your school, but you can plant bombs and figure out how to do it super easy. And bombs are way more destructive than guns. I mean if you want specific targets a bomb is probably not the way to go but school shootings are about like rage and shit, not about specific targets. Well, I mean, they are but not like so important that collateral damage isn't acceptable. I dunno. I mean, my point is people are fucked up and they will fuck people up and kill them if they want to. Knives or beating people with frying pans or raping them or strangling them or blowing their asses up. What do you do about all that stuff?" Her tone had gone back to something much more curious and less defensive. He didn't get it, that was obvious enough to Layla, and her initial flare of anger about it had died down. Which was good because she didn't think the Bald Dude would appreciate her being a dick to his guest. Um...more of a dick anyway.
"I guess I don't understand your argument, Layla. The enclave wasn't created because Genosha believed that our mutant citizens were going to go out and try to kill people, like some crazy who wants to build a pipebomb. It was built because some mutant powers are more difficult to control and potentially dangerous. So putting them in a place that was specially designed to stand up to a lot more abuse and has a lot more safety systems than your average home helps keep accidents from hurting too many people." Phillip said.
She sighed. This whole conversing thing was not being very communicative or whatever. "But they're accidents, like you said. And you don't know who will be destructive and who won't be. And what about when you know someone isn't? Like, you 'diagnose'" she rolled her eyes at the word, "mutations, right? Well eventually people manifest. And if their power is to like make daisies grow? All you're doing is endangering them when they're no more dangerous than you neighbor. Only either one might decide they hate the rest of you and start building pipe bombs. Just because someone has power doesn't mean it will hurt people. But you don't do anything once you know it won't hurt people, do you? Daisy growing mutant is still made to work for your government and live in special housing even though they don't need it. You separate them because they can grow daisies. You mark them as apart. As 'other.' And no matter how equal you wanna say things are you are limiting that person totally unnecessarily. But I bet the problem is that you can't justify putting just the dangerous ones in your suburb so you do it to all of them. Even though it's not fair to probably like half of them. Or most of them. But you just keep doing that. Why?"
"Because who decides who's dangerous or not? Who figures out that growing daisies is the end of their abilities and not just the first stage?" Phillip replied, although he'd always wondered the same thing. His father was adamant that if you started to assess mutant abilities into ranks and powers, sooner or later, you'd have a mutant caste system as opposed to a community. And they'd all seen the new stories, where powerful mutants like Magneto claimed control over 'lesser' mutants by the right of power alone. "All mutants in Genosha get the same benefits and same limitations, regardless of how useful or not their powers are. I guess it's a way to try and balance the system so at least it effects everyone equally."
Layla smiled sadly and shook her head. "No, it effects mutants equally. Mutants get one set of rights and privileges and non-mutants get another one. Sorry, dude, but you're never going to convince me this is the best option. If you're telling anyone what they can and cannot do then they're not free. They're not equal. And it's a shitty way to live, being less than everyone else." She sighed, glancing down at her ingredients and bowls and things. "It's no wonder eventually mutants get sick of it and fight back. No one likes getting held down forever. Eventually they get pissed off enough to do something. If a guy will show up, take over my home town and decide it's a mutant haven here, what will they do there? You've got no idea how much of New York they destroyed. Including the building I grew up in."
"Like I said at the beginning, you can't compare your life here to Genosha and say it's the same thing everywhere. You've grown up in a rich, entitled country. Mine isn't. And while being restricted where you can live might seem like a great imposition of rights for you, you have none of the challenges we do." He shook his head. After all, America hadn't almost disappeared fifty years ago like Genosha, and there was no way she could understand that. "What I do know is that no Genoshan mutant has ever been abandoned by our system. If they need care, they get it, regardless whether or not their powers are useful. If they need specialized living arrangements or support, they get it, regardless of the cost. I bet an awful lot of American mutants would happily trade their right to live anywhere for the right to be properly supported where they live."
"I bet you'd be surprised how many of us don't think the cost is worth it," she returned. "Maybe the people with dangerous mutations. The people with physical mutations. But people like me who can pass for human most of the time without being discriminated against? The ones whose mutations don't really affect our everyday lives? I don't think we'd swap places. Because at least here there's hope people will get their heads out of their asses. But you're running away from Genosha. So how well does your system really work if you're here looking for asylum?"
"The system is being exploited into something entirely different than what it was. That's why we're here." He said. "Because it's wrong to try and take something that is the basis of Genosha's survival and look at it like a- like a resource."
"People are always gonna exploit shit for whatever twisted reasons they've got. Because people are assholes," she informed him candidly. "But the more fucked up your system is the easier it is to twist. Anyway, look, you're not gonna change my mind about it being this great solution and I'm not gonna change your mind about it being totally fucked to not treat people as equal as possible. So let's, like, call a draw or whatever, okay? And concentrate on other important stuff." Layla grinned suddenly. "What kinda cookies do you and your girlfriend like?"
Phillip took a long sip of the coffee he’d been left with by the green haired woman. Lorna had been her name. She’d made lunch and talked to Jenny and him about the school and the Xavier Institute and what they did here. He’d never guessed that such a place could exist. In Genosha, most of the news they got about mutants were the destruction they caused; Magneto’s extensive terrorism, the attack on New York City, killing millions in India. He’d never imagined that all of those situations had been stopped by other mutants, working with humans. His father had always said that the state censorship was more about protecting native Genoshan media, but he was quickly seeing that GNN and Channel 3 had been part of an organized slant to make sure that mutants outside of the country were viewed only as dangerous terrorists or fanatics. It just underlined the lies that had made up his life until now.
Jenny had been sent for some tests with the staff and to discuss her abilities and the potential for staying at the facility in Scotland. He’d been interested, but had begged off, wanting some time to process what he’d seen. Jenny was smarter than him, but he grew up at the feet of Genosha’s leading politician, and he tended to think about things in the big picture. In this case, Genosha’s big picture was growing more and more rotten by the hour. He took another sip and stared out the window at the estate grounds.
A cold draft blew in from the glass door Layla opened to get back inside. She had a paper grocery bag cradled in one arm, hair flying everywhere and her beanie just about obscuring her vision. Pulling the door closed behind her, she tried to clear her vision but instead she just obscured it completely. "I hate you inanimate objects, you suck!" She batted at the hat which let the door fly back open and the blonde went scrambling after it again.
Unfortunately, after the door was actually shut and her hat pulled off Layla realized she wasn't exactly alone. The guy wasn't really in the kitchen but he was close enough to be seen through the doorway. She shot him a somewhat sheepish smile. "It's not my fault, winter is fighting back and totally collaborating with like my hat to thwart me for totally unknown reasons. Because my karma blows."
"I'm not arguing. This whole winter thing looks like a very poorly thought out idea in the first place." Genosha was semi-tropical, so the cold end of the rainy season was about as close as he'd gotten to these temperatures in anything other than a skiing trip. "You need a hand?"
"Nah, I'm good, thanks." She set the bag down on the counter and walked closer to the guy while pulling her coat off. "Winter's not bad, actually. I mean, it sorta sucks since I can't skate unless I wanna kill myself but I hear ice skating it fun in that wearing tights and going to the Ice Capades kinda way. And there's hockey, snowball fights, sledding, tubing, snowboarding, skiing if you're lame like that even though you really shouldn't judge...but dude, really? Skiing?" She shook her head and in the process managed to clear some of her hair from her view.
"Oh, hey! You're one of the new wayward mutants, right? Actually, I dunno if you're a mutant, I just assume you are because, hi, you wound up here." She walked over until she was within arm's reach and offered a hand. "Hi, I'm Layla and my powers are kinda gross, you're...uh...the guy." The blonde's eyes shifted from side to side. "I'm so observant, huh? Sorry, totally spacing on what your name is."
"Phillip Moreau. And I'm not a mutant. My girlfriend is." He shook her hand, the easy grip of a politician's son. "We're here from Genosha, and Professor Xavier is letting us stay here for a few days while he runs some tests on Jenny and our paperwork gets sorted out."
"Oh, so you're just wayward." Layla grinned. "It's cool, we'll let it slide. But just for now. Because you have the potential to be cool but if it turns out you suck we'll throw you in the lake and if you're not lucky it won't be frozen all the way down." Her easy, joking tone made it clear she didn't mean that whole lake throwing thing. "So, you a strudel fan? Cookies? Cake? Pumpkin? I owe people for being awesome and people never complain about being repaid in food." A thumb over her shoulder indicated the paper bag she had set down. "Hence the groceries. But, you know, you're wayward and potentially cool so you get food, too." Layla tugged on Phillip's arm to get him to follow her back into the kitchen proper. "So what's Genosha like? People said something about blah blah blah political for you guys being here but it sorta went over my head. Politics so not like my forte or whatever, y'know? That shit gets complicated quick."
Phillip paused for a moment, trying to sort the barrage of questions into some kind of order in his head. "Uh, well, sure." He allowed himself to be dragged along. "We're technically seeking asylum in the United States. In Genosha, well, there's something like the draft for mutants, who work for our state resource companies. But in the last few years, there's been more and more stories about their rights being restricted and being treated more like slaves or something. So when Jenny was diagnosed, we fled here. Hopefully we can make public pressure force the government to tell the truth about their programs."
"Dude, it's a mutation, not cancer. You don't get like 'diagnosed' like it's a disease. That's like getting diagnosed with brown hair. Unless you think being a mutant's like having down syndrome or something." Her nose wrinkled. The wording sort of miffed Layla but she was genial and conversational rather than being hostile and antagonistic. People had fucked up views of what being a mutant was, whether or not they were mutants themselves. She got that. She just didn't like it. "But whaddya mean rights being restricted? Is it like some fucked up holocaust shit like they have to live in camps and only like talk to each other and 'their kind' and they can't have babies because they're all sterilized and they have to work the fucked up jobs like when sanitation pipes or whatever they're called burst and there is shit everywhere, literally? Like that kinda restricting rights or something else?" She was pulling groceries out of the bag as she rambled on, seemingly without a need for air at all.
Phillip didn't respond to her comment about diagnosed. Maybe things were more mutant positive here, but in Genosha, mutation was diagnosed. They were tested for it, and at the end of the day got a positive or a negative which would impact their entire lives. He remembered how relieved he'd been when his tests came back negative, and how crushed when Jenny's hadn't. Not because being a mutant was bad, but where he grew up, it meant that someone else was ultimately going to decide how you were allowed to live your life.
"It's, uh, a little more complicated than that. For decades, Genoshan mutations have been drafted by the government as special workers, mostly in the oil and gas wells on the sea bed north of Prenova. In addition to their wages, the government covers all of their living costs and medical care, but there are designated areas where they are allowed to live. It was implemented in the eighties, after a couple of manifestations accidentally killed hundreds of people." And boy, weren't those carefully covered in history classes all through school. "It used to be like getting drafted - you didn't get full control about where you were going to be sent, but you still had the same rights as everyone else. If the stories are true, that's the part that's changing."
Drafted for being a mutant? Layla made a face like she smelled something foul. "That's bullshit. Shit isn't all flower petals and rainbows here when you're a mutant but they don't fucking dictate what you can and can't do. There's that whole pretending everyone's equal or some shit like that. Which is sorta funny as hell because people like to invoke God a lot here, even in politics, but then the Jesus freaks are the first ones pulling out the fucking superiority of whoever they like best over everyone else. Mutants are pretty low rung, but a lot of us pass for baseline human easy." Layla shrugged. "Bad shit happens here with mutations starting or manifesting or whatever too. Sometimes people die. It gets in the newspapers and on like the news at five and shit. But people would throw such a fucking fit if someone decided they were gonna put mutants in work camps." She paused. "At least right now they would. A couple years ago when New York got trashed by a mutant taking it over maybe not so much." Layla frowned but continued what she was doing, pulling mixing bowls, pans and whatever else she needed out of various cupboards. "And maybe down the line they won't flinch either. But how do you even try to put that shit into action, y'know?"
Once Layla had all her ingredients and equipment arranged in front of her she gave Phillip her full attention. "I bring dead things back to life. I'm trying to figure out how to do that with a chick who can pull your life energy out of you and fucking reduce you to dust. My science teacher and pick you up with her mind and can probably totally fuck with your mind with hers. My German teacher can disappear and reappear somewhere else. My old math teacher could encase you in ice. And, what? They're going to just bow down and let you take them? They're not gonna put up a fight? You're gonna sacrifice the people who get killed trying to take people in and pretty much imprison them? Either you kill us or you take the weak, untrained ones who can't do much to you with their powers. But I know an eighth grader who can bench press a fucking tank and a senior who can convince your entire computer system to wipe itself and corrupt all its data. So what does your country do? Pull some fucking long range sniper tranq gun action and keep them all drugged? I don't care if you're raised knowing this shit is inevitable, people fight being enslaved unless you've got something to control them. So what do they have? The Nazis just had to have weapons in the concentration camps. If you have the bigger weapon you get submission eventually, even if you have to kill a few hundred people to convince the other thousands to behave. But mutants are the weapon. What does Genosha have that's bigger?" It was possible Layla was getting a little over passionate about it. She didn't like when people thought they could push other people around just because they were bigger, richer or smarter than the other people. It was fucked up and it made you a shitty human being, too.
"I don't think you really understand, Layla. The segregated communities aren't work camps surrounded by barbed wire and guards and the mutants are allowed to come and go as they please. They're middle class high-rises and tract housing that have special designs to protect against power accidents. It was the idea of the original eight to have separate, specially built areas where they could live without being afraid of accidentially hurting anyone. And the mutants who don't have powers with industrial uses are allowed to pursue other interests." Phillip shook his head. She wouldn't know about the Florian Elementary incident or the suicide that followed. "Maybe it's not possible to understand. I don't understand what it's like to be an Israeli or a South Korean facing a compulsory draft, because I'm not sharing a border with a lot more people who want me dead. What I do know is what happens to poor African countries when their economies fall apart."
He stopped. Arguing with his hosts wasn't polite, especially in defense of a country that he'd had to escape from. But the girl was comparing them to Nazis, and that wasn't right. "I'm not saying our system is right. But you're wrong if you think it's being done because we hate mutants or anything like that. Our heroes are mutants, who sacrificed their own ambitions to save Genosha. We left because we've heard rumours that's getting secretly twisted, and it's important that the truth comes out. Because if it's true, the Genoshan people won't accept it, any more than you would if you found out your government was trying to implement the ideas of the KKK."
"Twisted how?" She wasn't above admitting that maybe she wasn't seeing what he was saying accurately. But he said they were diagnosed as mutants, like it was AIDS, and that they had to work in these industries. "What can they do if they don't have 'useful' mutations? How long do they have to work in your pre-determined jobs? When you're drafted into the military you do a set number of years. Like two in Israel, I think. Or five, I think that's what our enlistment term is. And then you're done. When are mutants in your country done? What about the powers accidents that kill other mutants? What, baseline humans are important enough to protect from uncontrolled powers but mutants aren't? Are we that expendable? Are they trained in how to use them right or are they just conscripted and told to work. You make it out like it's all separate but equal, but if it's separate it's never equal. We learned that like fifty years ago with the black people being segregated out from white society." Okay, so maybe she wasn't an academic but she liked stories and Layla remembered the stories about civil rights well enough.
"I think I caught two of those twenty questions, Layla. I'm happy to try and answer, but you're building questions on your questions and I'm having a hard time following." Phillip wasn't used to fellow teenagers like Layla. His education had been in a Genoshan private school, modeled on the British ideas. Her mile a minute questions had him off guard. "Mutants in Genosha are required to live in government funded housing, that is designed to be better able to handle some kinds of unintentional powers accidents. See, it wasn't the case until the 80s, when in the space of a year, one manifestation and one powers flare killed over two hundred people. One of them destroyed the school that the mutant was attending, and killed every teacher and student in it. The other was just a poor bastard who caught a bad fever and had a bad reaction to some medication. Killed half the people in his apartment building, and then the EMT team trying to stabilize him from the fever hallucinations. He killed himself a week after the last funeral was done."
He stared into his cup. He hadn't even been born during the Black Year, but he remembered all the footage, the specials. He had noticed that they had been running more often lately, further deepening his suspicions that there was an intentional effort to increase the fear of mutants. But it didn't reduce the impact of the visuals; the burnt bodies of thirteen year olds being pulled from under the rubble, or the sobbing suicide video left for the police. "The Commission - that's the original eight mutants who saved Genosha from collapse in the late 60s - appealled to the government to provide a safe place for mutants where they had less of a chance to hurt others in case of accidents like this. So that's when the mutant districts were built, with special schools and hospitals designed to address some of those issues. Yes, they don't have a choice, but they aren't prisons or work camps. It doesn't look much different from any other suburb."
"So they get to leave? They get to go on vacation in some other part of the country whenever they want? But are there like mutant safe hotels for them? Do people get all butt hurt if they leave their like designated area or whatever? And say you don't like living there. But you're not allowed to ever live anywhere else, right? So you're screwed. Like do they have colleges? What're they allowed to do if they aren't fucking drafted into what is probably really fucking miserable work? You can travel, you can move to another city or another neighborhood, you can choose your school, you can choose your job. What right do you have to say someone else isn't entitled to those choices because of something they can't control? Like a fucking leper colony?" She was oddly calm as she grilled him with questions, most of her antagonistic edge dropping out of her voice when she reminded herself you caught more flies with honey. "I don't care how used to it they are, or that they accept they are fucked from the start, it's still fucked up to dictate what someone else can or cannot do. Do you have AIDS housing? Flu quarantine? Yeah, maybe they aren't as destructive but people die horrible, painful deaths from AIDS for years. Or from cancer. At least a mutation accident will probably kill you quicker. It's way fucking kinder than cancer."
"The problem is that a mutation accident can also kill a lot of innocent people around you. So who's rights matter more? Their right to safety or your right to live where you want to?" Phillip pointed out, which was the entire crux of the Genoshan system. "Genosha isn't a big, rich country like the United States. We're limited with the resources that we have to handle mutant powers and their emergence. It might sound wrong to you, but the enclave works. It's as safe as an environment that we can make for Genoshan mutants and humans. Having to live somewhere you don't want to is unfair, but so is being killed because you live next door to the wrong person."
Layla actually stared at him and blinked. It was like he was some sort of The Hills Have Eyes mutant. "Do you people, like, not have murder and serial killers and shit? Because here people sometimes bring guns to school and shoot the fucking place up. Most mutants, I think, aren't destructive. I mean their powers aren't. Like I know someone who can make illusions that look real or someone who has this sort of sonar thing and someone who is super strong. They aren't going to kill you by accident. Hell, I'm not going to kill you by accident but I might land myself in the hospital by bringing your dog back to life by accident. The point is? We're dangerous, but so is someone with a bomb and a grudge. Or someone with a gun who has the skill to use it. What do you do about all the other potential things that could kill everyone?"
"Yes, and we have strict gun laws so people can't just buy a gun and shoot up a school." He didn't understand the comparison. She lived in New York, which had been invaded by mutants. Did all manifestations in the US have some kind of system in place to keep them under control? "The enclave isn't about punishing mutants who have dangerous powers. Its the best solution with our resources to keep everyone - mutant or human Genoshan - safe."
"What about bombs," she asked while slicing into an apple. Layla offered a slice to Phillip while biting into a slice of her own. "I mean, you can find out how to make a pipe bomb online really easily, you know? Okay, so you can't shoot up your school, but you can plant bombs and figure out how to do it super easy. And bombs are way more destructive than guns. I mean if you want specific targets a bomb is probably not the way to go but school shootings are about like rage and shit, not about specific targets. Well, I mean, they are but not like so important that collateral damage isn't acceptable. I dunno. I mean, my point is people are fucked up and they will fuck people up and kill them if they want to. Knives or beating people with frying pans or raping them or strangling them or blowing their asses up. What do you do about all that stuff?" Her tone had gone back to something much more curious and less defensive. He didn't get it, that was obvious enough to Layla, and her initial flare of anger about it had died down. Which was good because she didn't think the Bald Dude would appreciate her being a dick to his guest. Um...more of a dick anyway.
"I guess I don't understand your argument, Layla. The enclave wasn't created because Genosha believed that our mutant citizens were going to go out and try to kill people, like some crazy who wants to build a pipebomb. It was built because some mutant powers are more difficult to control and potentially dangerous. So putting them in a place that was specially designed to stand up to a lot more abuse and has a lot more safety systems than your average home helps keep accidents from hurting too many people." Phillip said.
She sighed. This whole conversing thing was not being very communicative or whatever. "But they're accidents, like you said. And you don't know who will be destructive and who won't be. And what about when you know someone isn't? Like, you 'diagnose'" she rolled her eyes at the word, "mutations, right? Well eventually people manifest. And if their power is to like make daisies grow? All you're doing is endangering them when they're no more dangerous than you neighbor. Only either one might decide they hate the rest of you and start building pipe bombs. Just because someone has power doesn't mean it will hurt people. But you don't do anything once you know it won't hurt people, do you? Daisy growing mutant is still made to work for your government and live in special housing even though they don't need it. You separate them because they can grow daisies. You mark them as apart. As 'other.' And no matter how equal you wanna say things are you are limiting that person totally unnecessarily. But I bet the problem is that you can't justify putting just the dangerous ones in your suburb so you do it to all of them. Even though it's not fair to probably like half of them. Or most of them. But you just keep doing that. Why?"
"Because who decides who's dangerous or not? Who figures out that growing daisies is the end of their abilities and not just the first stage?" Phillip replied, although he'd always wondered the same thing. His father was adamant that if you started to assess mutant abilities into ranks and powers, sooner or later, you'd have a mutant caste system as opposed to a community. And they'd all seen the new stories, where powerful mutants like Magneto claimed control over 'lesser' mutants by the right of power alone. "All mutants in Genosha get the same benefits and same limitations, regardless of how useful or not their powers are. I guess it's a way to try and balance the system so at least it effects everyone equally."
Layla smiled sadly and shook her head. "No, it effects mutants equally. Mutants get one set of rights and privileges and non-mutants get another one. Sorry, dude, but you're never going to convince me this is the best option. If you're telling anyone what they can and cannot do then they're not free. They're not equal. And it's a shitty way to live, being less than everyone else." She sighed, glancing down at her ingredients and bowls and things. "It's no wonder eventually mutants get sick of it and fight back. No one likes getting held down forever. Eventually they get pissed off enough to do something. If a guy will show up, take over my home town and decide it's a mutant haven here, what will they do there? You've got no idea how much of New York they destroyed. Including the building I grew up in."
"Like I said at the beginning, you can't compare your life here to Genosha and say it's the same thing everywhere. You've grown up in a rich, entitled country. Mine isn't. And while being restricted where you can live might seem like a great imposition of rights for you, you have none of the challenges we do." He shook his head. After all, America hadn't almost disappeared fifty years ago like Genosha, and there was no way she could understand that. "What I do know is that no Genoshan mutant has ever been abandoned by our system. If they need care, they get it, regardless whether or not their powers are useful. If they need specialized living arrangements or support, they get it, regardless of the cost. I bet an awful lot of American mutants would happily trade their right to live anywhere for the right to be properly supported where they live."
"I bet you'd be surprised how many of us don't think the cost is worth it," she returned. "Maybe the people with dangerous mutations. The people with physical mutations. But people like me who can pass for human most of the time without being discriminated against? The ones whose mutations don't really affect our everyday lives? I don't think we'd swap places. Because at least here there's hope people will get their heads out of their asses. But you're running away from Genosha. So how well does your system really work if you're here looking for asylum?"
"The system is being exploited into something entirely different than what it was. That's why we're here." He said. "Because it's wrong to try and take something that is the basis of Genosha's survival and look at it like a- like a resource."
"People are always gonna exploit shit for whatever twisted reasons they've got. Because people are assholes," she informed him candidly. "But the more fucked up your system is the easier it is to twist. Anyway, look, you're not gonna change my mind about it being this great solution and I'm not gonna change your mind about it being totally fucked to not treat people as equal as possible. So let's, like, call a draw or whatever, okay? And concentrate on other important stuff." Layla grinned suddenly. "What kinda cookies do you and your girlfriend like?"
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