New Tricks (Sean)

Although Josh was loathe to admit it, Sean had a very good point about his lack of experience outside of Manhattan and so he decided to ignore that half of the comment and focus exclusively on the first part. "Why can't we have Flintstone's level technology? It's eco-friendly! It's efficient! It's simple! It's....it's possibly cruel to animals. Maybe not, then." He paused, trying to think of some form of transportation that would be as swift as a motor vehicle but as simple as his bicycle.

"Pilot Ridge needs to adjust and come up with a subway." He decided at last, as no other solution was presenting itself. It might not have been a realistic idea, but it was a nice fantasy. "I must have forgotten to inform your local government that I expect them to cater to my every whim. It's not too late to rectify this situation! Let's go to the capital, I think I have some poster board at home, we can mock up some signs. It'll be like college again." Perhaps the cause was slightly less ambitious, and perhaps a crowd of two was not very impressive, but it would have been much less stressful than his current occupation.

He wanted a cigarette, but he knew very well how Sean felt about smoking in his car, and in any event he wasn't capable of steering and lighting up at the same time. Perhaps with practice, but he wasn't about to practice using Sean's car; he was going to have to purchase his own. But later, once he could actually drive it home from the dealer's, otherwise there wasn't any point. Then and only then would he work on making his car smell like home, far away from other people. Or at least away from Sean, as he understandably was fond of his friend and was therefore somewhat reluctant to kill him through second hand smoke.

He didn't necessarily feel so generous toward other members of the human race, as his craving for nicotine generally outweighed any moral obligation he felt in regards to smoking in the presence of others. On the rare occasion he acknowledged this hypocrisy he rationalized his behavior by reminding himself that he spent more time with Sean than with other people, so if he smoked in front of someone he was never going to see again it probably wasn't going to do them much harm, but if he smoked in front of his friend every time he wanted to they were both going to get cancer.

"Your logic has no place in this conversation." He retorted, gazing fixedly ahead, "I refuse to believe that driving is a learned skill. Clearly the talent is innate." At Sean's advice he very promptly switched on the windshield wipers before turning. "Wait. That was wrong." He slammed on the brakes, glaring down at the numerous knobs sprouting from the region of the steering wheel. He had toyed with them earlier, but with such obvious reluctance that it wasn't any wonder he couldn't remember which device had what effect. It wasn't until after cleaning the front window and turning on the brights that he finally found what he'd been looking for. "I'll remember that next time!" He vowed, patting the turn signal in the hopes that it wouldn't switch functions on him while he wasn't looking.

Turn signal thus accomplished he resumed moving, continuing to talk as talking meant less focusing on how nervous he was. "So I've decided to replace the word meta-human." He announced, as if he had any control over other people's choice of terminology. "I met someone who agreed to help. Unfortunately, we haven't come up with a suitable new word yet." He admitted, gradually picking up speed as he spoke, until he was almost going the speed limit, "So if you have any suggestions please share them."

"Now that's just unfair." Josh protested when Sean announced his conditions for agreeing to what his plan. "It's almost as if you're taking my request to learn driving seriously. I can't imagine what possessed me to ask your help, I forgot what a slave driver you are." He sighed in mock distress. He'd been the one to approach Sean about lessons, after all, and he needed to learn or he was going to be stranded during the winter months. Unfortunately, learning to drive was nothing at all like law school; the rules were there, inarguable, and if he messed up he could use neither well-researched rhetoric nor obfuscation to defend himself and his decisions.

He narrowed his eyes at Sean's defense of the term meta-human, annoyed at not getting immediate support for what he considered a very clear case of prejudice. If it had been anyone else he would have lectured them on them about wallowing in their privilege, but that would have been a ridiculous line to take with any meta-human on this issue, and Josh had never considered Sean to be blinded by whatever privilege being a white male afforded him. That didn't mean he was going to allow this attitude of acceptance to go unchallenged.

"Define baseline." He demanded, unwilling to give up even in the face of overwhelming unenthusiasm. That so few people were willing to jump on board was only further evidence that his social crusades were necessary, a forced correction of aberrant behaviors that nobody willingly admitted to. Most were willing to dismiss subtle discrimination, ignorant of the very real damage their attitudes caused or, where ignorance was lacking, a resigned acceptance allowed the status quo to continue unchallenged, a belief (born of a lifetime of oppression and abuse) that inaction was the better route except in cases of such extreme prejudice that people were unable to turn a blind eye.

It neither surprised nor bothered him that Sean immediately knew to whom he was referring; after decades of friendship it was expected, and in some ways convenient. That his friend could easily read any of the sometimes petty or self-centered thoughts in his mind had never been an issue for him; with other people, he might have minded more, but he had nothing to hide from Sean at least, and the other man's natural inclinations so obviously precluded abuse of his powers -- in Josh's mind it was obvious, at least -- and Sean was generally quite willing to accept that human failings included a certain amount of imperfection. "She seemed nice! And she understands the need for change." He pronounced confidently, apparently forgetting that he'd suggested she help him and not the other way around. "If we're going to see change in the world then it's no good turning away willing helpers. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop recruiting, however. I will continue to recruit until the world is devoid of discrimination. I will root it out, no matter how subtle."

He allowed his tirade to be interrupted by this new task, which fortunately proved easier than using the turn signal, as the button for the hazard lights sat alone on the top of the steering column. He offered up silent thanks for the simplicity of that particular design. "Are you certain this is necessary?" He asked doubtfully after turning on the lights as directed, "We're in a parking lot, after all, we could be parked. Theoretically. If we go slow enough nobody will be able to tell we aren't." The fact that they weren't in one of the designated parking spots was completely irrelevant; he was certain that people shouldn't complain about slow moving vehicles in a parking lot.

He resumed his discourse upon social change, satisfied that he could find at least one control in Sean's car, "You can help too, you know." He offered, as if that fact needed any clarification. He certainly expected Sean to help, enthusiastically or otherwise. Enthusiasm was preferable, of course, but he would take whatever help he could coerce, wheedle or beg into existence. "That way there will be at least one reliable person amongst the three of us, assuming nobody else agrees to help. Which they will, once it becomes apparent that we're right. Absolutely, unequivocally, transparently on the right side of history and progress. There is no doubt. There will be no doubt, we will make certain of that. Even better, you and your school have a monopoly on exactly the sort of people we need to help us."

He didn't approve of this monopoly, but in this case it would be useful to channel the power of youthful enthusiasm into activism without the vexing problem of mobilizing a group scattered across the continent. "We can organize a road trip to D.C. and tear down the walls of hate and fear." He decided, rather miraculously remembering which switch activated the turn signal -- and turning far too close to one of the large light poles, which illuminated the lot at night. Any further chance of conversation was cut short by the horrendous screeching that announced the light pole's concrete foundation had met the bottom of Sean's car.

Josh cringed, pressing the brakes gingerly, half afraid that braking would cause more damage. The scraping of metal on concrete couldn't be mistaken for anything else; he had wrecked his best friend's car. Even worse, he had been the one who had asked Sean for help in the first place. He would gladly replace whatever parts needed replacing -- that went without saying -- but recompense didn't change the fact that he had just relegated his friend to life without a car for some currently undefined amount of time. "I'm sorry!" As if sorry changed the fact that he hadn't been paying enough attention. He certainly didn't feel like any apology would be enough. "I ahhh I suppose that's the end of lessons for today. I'm sorry." He repeated, trying vainly to come up with some better way to express how miserable he felt. "I'll pay for the damages. You'll probably need a rental car or something, too." He offered, covering his face with his hands in despair. He couldn't believe he had been so utterly stupid. "This was a bad idea. I should never have asked you to sacrifice your car. I'm sorry."

All thoughts of persuading Sean to his cause (and convincing him that baseline was just another word for default and should thus be abandoned as well) were banished by his present situation. A situation he was at fault for, no matter what assurances his friend offered. It was an accident, which was to say it was an avoidable and unforgivable instance of carelessness. If he had been paying attention like he ought then this would never have happened.

He bristled at his friend's paraphrase of the age old reassurance of Alexander Pope, at the implication that such careless actions could be dismissed because expected. Sean had apparently taken that bit of wisdom to heart, right down to the injunction to forgive easily. "Tell that to Tony Hayward." Accidents were unacceptable, particularly accidents that involved wrecking things like beaches and cars. He could have killed his best friend through reckless stupidity! That would easily have been on par with mucking up the Gulf Coast with oil; worse, even, as comparable oil spills in other parts of the world had little lasting impact but he somehow doubted that Sean could recover from being dead -- and he wasn't at all keen on testing that theory.

"Accidents don't happen, stupidity happens and people ought to face the consequences of their stupidity." He objected, uncomfortably certain that Sean was letting him off far too easily. This forgiveness was entirely in keeping with his personality, as Sean had always been a gracious person, but in these circumstances understanding made Josh feel far more guilty than yelling (or at least more obvious agitation) would have.

But he'd been offered a chance at penance, even if helping dig out the van didn't seem nearly a horrible enough punishment. "But of course I'll help with the van," He agreed contritely, silently wondering why Sean had kept the thing and if it still even worked. Granted, some good times (and a great deal of young adult angst over life's injustice) had been had in that van, but mere sentiment seemed a paltry reason for keeping something. Then again, it was needed now, so whatever reason Sean had for keeping it around was apparently justified, sentimental or not.

Somehow when he'd decided to move himself and his parents to Vermont he hadn't expected quite this much excitement, or at least not excitement of this variety. The presence of his best friend had been a deciding factor, the idea of actually spending more time together than just on the phone had been compelling, as had the possibility of once again joining together to combat inequality. Wrecking Sean's car and forcing him into using the van hadn't been part of the equation. It really was going to be just like college again if Sean started driving around in that thing. Just like college, only with work replacing classes (although organizing a lawyer walk out as a means of protest seemed more ridiculous and far less likely than a student walk out), and with somewhat worse physical health and definitely worse vision and less no making out in the back of the van. Unless they got drunk, but as that was never supposed to happen he generally pretended that it never did; there was one recurring mistake he never cared to face the consequences for.

He sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt, leaving the keys in the ignition as he pushed open the door and slid out of the mangled car with trepidation, circling around to the front to see just how much damage he'd caused. Not that he would be able to tell much just by looking; he wasn't a mechanic. He could tell that repairs were (probably) going to be expensive, and he could also tell that bits of Sean's car were going to decorate the light pole for a long while to come, but that was about it. He hoped that Sean would accept his offer to pay for the repairs out of pocket, because he hadn't bought insurance yet what with not having his own car, and he could think of no possible way that his friend's insurance company would accept paying for this without a huge hike in fees.

"Well." He reached into his jacket pocket, automatically searching for cigarettes to calm his nerves before remembering that his self-imposed rule (helped into existence by Sean's own rules about behavior in his car) against smoking in front of Sean. He hurriedly removed his hands from his pockets, crossing his arms across his chest instead in order to avoid temptation. "I suppose we're heading home, then, Jeeves?"