8189/Cinema Verite

Cinema Verite
Date of Scene:	10 October 2021
Location:	Recreation Lounge: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Busy drowning himself in cinema verite documentaries, Michael has a chance meeting with Jessica and they have a conversation about the nature of authoritarianism and the banality of evil a la Hannah Arendt.
Cast of Characters:	Michael Erickson, Jessica Drew

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Michael Erickson has posed:
    In the dim light of the television room of the Triskelion's rec lounge, a creature stirs, staring at one of the big monitors upon which a black-and-white documentary plays, volume off. Big, 1970s-era cans on his ears as he watches. The creature is Michael, of course. The film he is watchiing is aa black-and-white film about people being interviewed in a city - which a shot of the Eiffel Tower reveals to be Paris. No subtitles, just the big honking headphones over his ears. He stares into a celluoid abyss, and is, apparently, enraptured.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Enter a woman dressed in SHIELD agent black, darker than the shining hair that falls to her shoulders. Jess watches the watcher, wondering if Michael is listening to it in French. The man being interviewed looks like a typical Parisian, complaining about his life. Skirting the chair he is sitting in, she makes sure she is seen before settling in next to him.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    He watches, not yet looking away from the television - he sits in one of the big chairs with a bottle of water in hand, staring at the apparent interview going on up there. He is...rapt. Grim. And, perhaps to surprise someone looking upon him, he is also sad.

    Then he glances to where she sits down next to him and pulls the headphones down around his neck. "Oh, hello, Agent Drew," he says, his voice a hollow rendition of itself. Distant. "How are you."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Paris," she answers. "Better than you, I think." She looks at him raptly, scrying his face, wondering if she will ever understand someone born so far from earth to an alien mother. She surprises herself when she asks, "How are the people on your world born if you have avian ancestors?" Looking faintly embarrassed, she doesn't excuse herself but waits for his answer.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    He blinks slowly at her, rubbing at his cheek as his brain rushes to catch up to the question. "Oh! Ah, um. Eggs, actully. We're kind of like platypi are, mammals that lay eggs. We nurture them in climate-controlled pods until they hatch." A long pause. "I recognize that sounds insane."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Her eyes lose focus as she ponders a creche of eggs. "Not terribly insane if you know anything about avian-type species. Though it sounds cold, a bit sterile. I know that birds in their shells here on earth learn from their parents while still in the shell. They learn to recognize their mother's voice, they hear all sorts of alarm sounds without having the context. Mammals learn about the environment and humans hear music en vitro." She sits up straighter, "We likely shouldn't call you avian since that would be a class of earth animals. Avian-like. At least, I think that is the convention for exobiologists."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "We used to have wings," Michael points out, chuckling. "And before I came to this planet I had feathers instead of hair. I have hollow bones. Avian works." He brightens a bit while saying this, whatever film he was watching now losing some of its gravity over him. "Some of us still do, you know. Wings."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jess waves a hand acknowledging avian but insisting on her point. "I'm sure exobiologists would have a word specific to Shi'ar. Birds break easily. I hope you don't," she says, baiting him mildly.

Then more seriously, "That must have been difficult to adjust to looking at hair on your head rather than feathers. Did you miss it terribly?"

Patting her own back, "I should like to fly. Wouldn't you?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    He gives her a thin mile. "It's been long enough that I've forgotten how it feels sometimes," he says. "But I mean, it's not terrible. This is actually fine strands of crystal, so it never gets oily, and it's easy to clean and trim." Michael runs his hand through it demonstrably.

    Then he takes off his headphones entirely, putting them into his lap. "And I /can/ fly, actually, using the armor. Even to other planets. Stars. You want to fly, I could take you flying with me if you'd like." A beat. "I mean I know it's not the same, being carried rather than flying on your own, but it's an option."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jess stops herself from reaching to touch his mineral hair. "It grows though it's artificial?" She touches her own shoulder-length hair, and pushes it back from her face. "Yes, your suit can fly," she says with a moue and a shake of her head. "Would you carry me like Super Man carries Lois Lane in the movies? I'd really prefer to go under my own power. Besides, where would I get a suit that would shield me from radiation?

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Or on my back, but they're all ridiculous options I suppose." He shrugs, turning back to the monitor on the wall. "Guess if there's ever an emergency you know there's an option, at least."

    Michael settles back in his chair again, sighing. "You ever see this? This movie?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Emergency requiring me to ride on your back in space, Michael? It sounds very romantic," she says sardonically.

After a glance at the screen, "No, I've never seen it. What made you chose it? Go ahead and watch it. Don't let me stop you."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Well in space, or in atmosphere," he replies, snorting. "Like if you're horribly injured or if you need me to go carry someone off somewhere or something." Michael gestures to the monitor now. "It's called 'Le Joli Mai', and it's a documentary. Cinema verite is the closest I get to movies, since they're still, you know. Documentaries." Michael crosses his legs again, shrinking into himself little. Just a little. "It's a series of interviews about people in Paris after the French were forced to pull out of Algeria after the Algerian War of Independence. Seven years, that took. And Indochina - Vietnam, rather - before that. Never mind World War Two. It's a grim film."

    Michael gestures to the screen. "Thing is, they go out of their way to not talk about it. These people. Everything but, usually. And I can't help but think of my people. What they must say about this place. If they even know about it at all - you realize, we don't lose. Not usually. In the face of even the worst of the enemies we've faced, we remain implacable. And this..."

    He takes a long breath. "I saw this when I was in Paris. I was the only Ameri--well. The only foreigner in the theater at the time. Room, totally packed. And I remember that most everyone was quiet. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. And then...somewhere, in the crowd, I heard someone crying. Just one voice. And all I could think of was the Empire, everything I had done in the name of its advance. It made me so sad..." He runs a hand again through that cropped mane of inky crystal. "And I never understood why. Not until much later, when I saw it again after working with some lads who'd come back from Bosnia, after their tour there. This must have been '93, '94. And the stories they told. The harrowing. I never felt that way about my service in the field - I still don't. I know it was wrong, though. You can't watch things like this and not hate yourself for what you've done. We might as well have been the Wehrmacht."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jess sinks back into the sofa, eyes closed and sighs. "You surprise me often. Do you think your superiors would have sent you to Earth if they knew you were capable of such introspection and empathy? You don't make a good soldier if you imagine how much the bullet you fire is going to hurt the target. Most people can't imagine other people's lives in the house next to them, much less the next street down or the next country where the language and customs are different. It is easier to be indifferent. It is easier to not have any imagination. People can sink into their little pleasures and not have to lift their heads to see further. Do you know the philosopher Hannah Arendt?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Part of the danger of sending anyone in the field is that exposure to the native culture will change them," Michael says, shaking his head. "They taught us this in the cadres. To preserve an asset you must keep them isolated, keep them comparmentalized. Once that goes, once they realize they have another option, you cannot expect them to choose your side." A bet. "Unless that person is Shi'ar. Then, /naturally/, they'd choose to support the Empire. Traitors, I must stress, are incredibly rare due to the social structure, the sheer weight of programming." He smirks. "Birds of a feather and all that."

    Then he looks back to her. "I don't, no. What does she say?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
"But you broke from the mold, didn't you? You're an unusual bird. A thinking bird." Her voice picks up speed, "I don't know a lot about the woman herself except that she was from an intellectual German-Jewish family, emigrated to the US and wrote well regarded books of political philosophy. She taught in a lot of prestigious institutions. I'll probably butcher her thinking. She was selected to be one of the few woman journalists to report on the trials held in Jerusalem of the captured war criminal Adolf Eichman, I believe."

"Do you know about the Nazis?"

"She was already a teacher. She wrote a book in which she talks about the banality of evil. How so much evil is committed in the name of conforming and not rocking the boat - taking the easy route. How ordinary people commit great crimes. I recommend it to you. She is an exceptional political thinker but some people think she lets evil off lightly with her explanation. It horrifies me with how exact it feels."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "If anything, Agent, I /am/ a Nazi in the grand scheme of things." He makes a face, looking back to the monitor. "Or was." He heaves a deep sigh. "I'll never be able to make it up to the populations I helped subjugate as a young man. But here? This place? Your people? They I can help. At the very least, I never took up arms against humanity."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jessica takes a quick sharp breath, "Is that being a realist or self-torture? Someone I respect a lot said to me that regret is worthless unless it is used to affect change in your behavior. You'll do fine," she says with perhaps more assurance than she feels.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Probably a litle of both." He looks back at her. His eyes sharp, glinting in the glow of the monitor. "Well. I should probably stop wallowing. Dinner reservation is later this week. Don't forget, all right?"

    He gets to his feet, then, picking up his headphones as he turns off the monitor. "I'll see you around, Jessica. It's always good to see you."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"I won't forget," she replies with a smile, hoping to cover the fact that she had forgotten the dinner. "Well, do you have any choice? Of course, you'll see me around," she says half to herself as he walks out of the room.