Downtown Pilot Ridge Library [Josh]

Every good social crusade required research, or so Josh believed. Research meant that a handful of people might actually take the cause seriously, because how could people argue with such infallible sources as newspaper journalists and text books? Particularly journalists, who were known for unassailable honesty. The rest of society might dismiss him as easily as they dismissed the guy on the street corner demanding humanity repent their sins -- although in the end, wasn't their biggest difference what they considered a sin? -- but if he had sources to back his views up then people would have to listen and respect that he knew of whence he spoke.

Unhappily, he wasn't having much luck in his search. Almost every article about meta-human rights were editorial pieces. The only serious articles he had thus far discovered was a piece in The Rolling Stones that was paranoid and extremist even by Josh's standards, and a handful of articles published in Mother Jones. These he entirely agreed with, but he had his doubts about their usefulness in persuading anyone who wasn't already convinced. Was this truly the extent of journalisms forays into justice for their meta-human brethren?! What happened to the passionate, stubborn search for truth against the wishes of The Man? Even his beloved Gray Lady had let him down; how had he never noticed their lack of articles on such an important issue?

"Pretending a problem doesn't exist isn't helpful." He informed the article he was scanning in a disgruntled whisper, as if the article would hear and convey this sentiment to its editors. Perhaps he would have to start a letter writing campaign to every magazine and newspaper of note; otherwise they seemed to be paying a distressing lack of attention to a very important issue. His fellow progressives were letting him down!

He grimaced and returned the unhelpful article to its rightful place, noting as he did so the presence of another person scouring the library's supply of newspapers. He wondered if perhaps she had all the articles of interest to him -- or even if her search involved his cause. Whatever she was looking for, she certainly was being studious about it, scribbling away at a notebook and flipping through articles with a look of intense concentration. She probably wouldn't appreciate being interrupted, but he was curious both as to her cause and as to whether or not she had any meta-human rights articles he had overlooked, and he had little trouble with the concept of bothering people.

He sauntered over to stand by her chair, peering down at the papers in her hand with undisguised interest. "Pardon me, but I was just curious as to what you're researching. You see, I've been attempting to find articles on meta-human rights, and I was wondering if perhaps you were doing the same and that was the explanation for what I would otherwise find a very curious lack."

So she didn't have any articles he wanted after all. This was both unsurprising and vexing. "Past crimes are no good, no good at all," He shook his head, dismissing the articles she was perusing, taking her at face value that they contained no information he was interested in. "Not unless they're hate crimes." Even with a relatively large population of meta-humans Pilot Ridge surely had to deal with hate crimes, and what better way to prove his point about labels causing unnecessary division than to illustrate with actual crimes committed against meta-humans? He might have to do some rhetorical gymnastics to convince anyone that the labels used had anything to do with hate, but he felt that he was up to that challenge.

He pressed his lips together in a thin line, considering the options she'd presented him with. The courthouse shouldn't be difficult, particularly once he was better established as a coworker and not an outsider. The capitol would be a bit trickier, unless he could either bring himself to resume driving lessons or convince Sean to make a trip with him. Neither solution seemed likely to meet with the immediate success he desired. Perhaps he would have to resort to what she referred to as sending away for information, but truth be told he much preferred to fetch his information in person if at all possible. He wanted to look through the sources himself, not rely on some overworked government employee; that was definitely a last resort option there.

"It's nice to meet you, Doctor Prideaux." He took the proffered hand, shaking it vigorously, "My name is Joshua Bernstein." Was it just his imagination, or were half the residents of Pilot Ridge associated with Hammel in some form? But perhaps that shouldn't have shocked him; the school was the one large, noteworthy business in the area. "I have a friend who works at the Institute," He added, using her choice of words, "perhaps you know him? Sean Neville? We attended college together." And what were the odds she wouldn't know him? They worked for the same (unconstitutional) school, and the title of Doctor was available to both.

"I am on a mission," He informed her, "To promote meta-human rights and to rid the world of the term meta-human just as soon as I think of a suitable replacement. I was hoping there would be some helpful articles with suggestions for a more appropriate label, as well as provide evidence that I am, in fact, perfectly correct in objecting to the term." He crossed his arms across his chest, glancing down at her notes as if they held some brilliant insight if only he understood her scribblings. Was that even written in English? He couldn't tell. "Not evidence for myself," He explained, in case she was confused, "As I'm already quite convinced. Alas, the rest of the world is much more difficult to persuade."

If she was going to ask specifically about his cause, then he felt no qualms about being just as inquisitive about her research. "And what brings you on a search for articles on past crimes? Is Pilot Ridge so dangerous?" All the untrained powers around could certainly constitute a danger, but as far as actual, intentional crime went he hadn't pegged Pilot Ridge as a town he needed to much worry about. Every town had crime, true, but to have so much that a quest for information about past crimes could include such a large stack of papers and such tiny, packed notes seemed unbelievable. He hadn't needed to worry when he lived in New York City, and while the plummeting crime rates had been a recent development he'd been under the impression that small towns were more pristine. Backward, superstitious and bigoted, but less crime-ridden.

While Josh agreed that Sean had many excellent qualities he couldn't quite wrap his mind around the idea of his friend as a saint. Whether it was the fact he had lived with Sean and seen him at his worst (and drunkest), or if it was the idea of a lapsed Catholic being canonized, his lips twitched into a smile at Clarisse's comment. "Sean is very...personable." He agreed, turning away slightly and covering his mouth with one hand in an attempt to hold back the laughter threatening to burst out at the thought of Sean the Saint. Oh, but this was coming up next time they talked. A saint!

"I didn't suggest we revert to the word mutant!" He objected, horrified that she would even consider that he would want to depose meta-human in favor of mutant. Neither term was respectful, of course, but meta-human was slightly (just a smidgen) less offensive. This was beginning to look an impossible task. First Sean tacitly refused to help and now Dr. Prideaux was using the same excuses: it's our culture, if we're fine with labels that dehumanize then it's none of your business. This was by far the most infuriating attitude he had to fight against, worse even than people who were unabashedly prejudiced because he expected people to eagerly join in fighting for their own rights. Did nobody care to be respected anymore, did they think it was normal to be ostracized? Maybe it was normal, but it shouldn't be! If only the oppressed would rise up, the world would be a more respectful, kind place. At least, it would be more respectful and kind for the oppressed; he really had no guarantees that the oppressors wouldn't end up at the guillotine.

"And I beg to differ that the term humanizes anyone, the connotations put it in opposition to human. The prefix meta means after. And for some entirely inexplicable reason Sean keeps insisting that the terms ought to be meta-human and baseline-human, which really only makes the concept of meta-humans being a continuation or addition to default humans that much more obvious. Because if I'm baseline and you're meta, then I'm the point of reference and you're the aberration or maybe in a more positive light the improved product, but either way this attitude is unacceptable." Not that he'd heard anyone other than Sean (and a handful of his coworkers) use the term baseline human; most people used meta-human along with a prefixless human, which was both aggravating and understandable.

He shrugged at her next question. "I tried fomenting interest by discussing the issue with the locals on an individual basis, but there seems to be little interest in meta-human rights in this area. Odd, I think, considering your institute resides here." He'd envisioned a bit more success when he'd first embarked on this cause; he had to remind himself that improvements in civil rights on a widescale level were rarely immediate. Whenever he felt too much frustration he merely looked back on the decades he'd spent lobbying for change and realize just how far his society had changed.

He leaned back against the nearest bookshelf, arms crossed. "Side-effects that impact other people? How...intriguing!" He commented with great interest. There were unlimited possibilities (as far as he knew) as to what types of meta-human traits could manifest, and trying to narrow down all those possibilities to one power that could affect other people sounded like a particularly vexing puzzle. "Does Hammel keep a list of the traits known to have manifested? It might be a bit unwieldy, but cross-referencing a list with your ahhh side-effects could help whittle down your choices." He suggested. Perhaps there wasn't a list of every trait known in every country, but he would have been very surprised if the Hammel officials hadn't kept tally on what had passed through their doors. And probably continued to keep track of their students once they'd graduated, too. One day that school was going to prove useful in a capacity it hadn't intended (he assumed they hadn't intended), when the government allowed the military industrial complex to take advantage of traits they surely coveted.

"I would offer to help look over your notes, extra pair of eyes and all that, but really, if you're trained in side-effects surely you know more than I about what you're looking for."

Differences were not, in Josh's opinion, inherently bad, and blindness toward all uniqueness wasn't exactly the future he was aiming toward. He was interested in defeating the negative connotations associated with different demographics, not pretending those demographics were all completely alike. Sometimes that meant convincing people to use more respectful language, to realize what impact their words had on those around them, but he remained well aware that he didn't know what it was like to have Sean's telepathy or Clarisse's....whatever trait or skill she happened to have. Neither of them knew what it was like to be a fifty year old Jewish man without any powers. That was fine, that was great, people didn't have to know, they just had to be respectful. Sean got that. From what he could tell so did Clarisse. But they acted as if the rest of the population got it, too, when that was far from true. The rest of the population needed to be educated because they weren't doing very well on their own.

The comparison to ethnicity and gender was flawed to some degree; neither was a choice, but as Clarisse had pointed out (and as an expert in that particular field, she ought to know) it was rarely possible to tell a meta-human simply by looking. Then again, it couldn't exactly be compared to sexuality, either. Again, not a choice, but one could lie about one's sexuality whereas meta-human status could be reliably determined by scientists. There were other reasons for admitting to differences in ethnicity and gender than simple ocular evidence, as well, reasons that had more to do with medicine as some demographics were more prone to certain diseases than others. But that was acceptance of differences, which wasn't the same as judgment. Judgment ought to be reserved for moral questions; judging someone for murdering another human being or lying or, well, judging.

"Certainly you and I are not the same person, but I'd rather find a way to express that distinction without assuming that one of us is an expansion and the other the blueprint." He acknowledged, failing to notice her offer of the seat and instead pacing back and forth in agitation at the English language's current inability to describe such differences without resorting to normalizing one at the expense of the other.

Of course, then there were judgments based upon less tangible aspects of person-hood, judgments that were just as inappropriate and skewed as those based merely upon the physical. "But there is a need for action!" He disagreed vehemently. "As long as there are hate crimes! As long as there is hate there is a need for action! It doesn't matter if people can't tell just by looking at you that they hate you. If they would hate you if you told them there's still a need for action. Do I look white to you? Because most people would say yes, but the white supremacists, if I told them I am Jewish, they would disagree. And you can't tell what gender someone is sexually attracted to by physical appearance, but that doesn't stop people from hate. They could be great friends with you, and then you say, oh, yes, by the way, I happen to date guys, and suddenly you have one less friend. Do you see what I mean? You can't look at someone and tell what religion they practice, not unless they belong to one of the more orthodox sects that requires members to differentiate based on dress. You can't look at someone and tell who they vote for unless they decide to wear a t-shirt or pins. And yet people will hate you for those things, hate you for being religious or hate you for being atheist, insist that you aren't a patriot for voicing dissent, a communist for voting democrat and ignorant for voting republican, that you're a traitor for not adhering to their definition of the party line. And none of that is anything you can tell by appearances."

He took a deep breath and continued, "That doesn't stop people from hating. I intend to eradicate this propensity for hatred. If I could eradicate it globally, I would do so, but as I am sadly one person and have a limited capacity to effect change. Therefore, I will eradicate hatred locally, which will in turn inspire others to eradicate the hatred around themselves, which will then spread throughout the globe." This wasn't likely to produce the immediate changes he wished for, but it was the best plan he had at the moment: Plans that went beyond gain visibility and talk a whole bunch until people either agree or pretend to agree to escape being lectured were not necessarily his strength.

"I certainly understand that alleviating side-effects is a necessity, but it's one that professionals such as yourself need to work on. The best a layperson such as myself could hope to accomplish as far as the medical part of the equation is to organize a march to raise funds, and as long as there is discrimination participation will be a problem. It's a worthy goal, but the problem of discrimination and hate crimes can be solved at least partially by awareness rather than research and funds."

He narrowed his eyes at Clarisse's use of wielded against in regards to telepathic abilities. "Telepathy isn't a weapon." He muttered, "Anymore than a shoe is. Or an affinity toward mathematics. You can use any of them for evil if you so desire, but that isn't the natural state of things." He would very staunchly defend Sean's inability to ward off other people's minds at all times. The fact that he was imperfect didn't mean he went around wielding his powers against people. Hearing people's thoughts wasn't anymore of a crime than overhearing part of a nearby conversation. Unless one was purposefully spying (and with the intent to use the information gathered against people) then there were no victims -- as he knew very well that Sean frequently knew what he was thinking without even trying to read his mind, he refused to accept the concept of telepathy wielded against him as that meant he was a victim, and idea with which he intensely disagreed.

"I don't know if they have any such thing or not, but it sounds like something they would do." He admitted with a shrug. "Seems worth looking into, at any rate." He followed her gaze toward her notes, wondering for the second time if they were written in English. Maybe her handwriting was just really abysmal. "If you have the time to explain, then I have the time to listen and help. If you do not have the time to explain, then I wish you good luck with your search and will return to my own."