nexus_sages | (no subject)

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Of all the things Jim Kirk wishes he could do right now, getting good and drunk to drown his sorrows is certainly towards the top of the list. But his doctor says no, absolutely not, and never in his life has he wanted to go against doctor's orders less than he does lately.

So the captain finds himself in the Forum, unsure even what the hell to do with himself, and he gingerly eases himself down onto one of the couches, moving with the careful patience of the recently physically injured, before he notices the date on a nearby calendar.

Father's Day. Huh. How... stupidly appropriate.

"For those who've lost a parent... how the hell do you honor their memory? Even if you haven't, do you bother doing holidays like this?"

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Now this, this he prefers to talk about. "A couple of things. Some pretty cool astronomical phenomena, like this one planet we found where it rains sapphires, or the nebula made primarily out of gold dust and tequila. It's not drinkable, sadly."

"Okay, you have got to put together a greatest hits tape of cool space stuff to watch. Raining sapphires, that's great!"

"It'd be nice to skip the more boring, mundane survey missions and just do the highlights in real life," Jim agrees. "Honestly, with all the scientists and researchers onboard, Starfleet really should send along some real astrophotographers. We do take pictures but they could be better, you know?"

Clint nods, then chuckles as a thought strikes him. "Hey, here's an idea: get a film crew to do a documentary: life on an exploration ship. It'll either be the best sci-fi show ever made, or it'll be the Office in space!"

"Is it really science fiction if it's real life?" Jim asks, somewhat rhetorically. And then, because he doesn't get the reference, "What office d'you mean?"

"Eh, gotta figure reality TV's always got someone putting a narrative on it, right?" Oh, hey, missed reference. Bad Clint. "Oh, uh, 'the Office' is this sitcom pretending to be a documentary about the people who work in this office. It's all, like, office shenanigans and water cooler politics and desk drama and that sort'a stuff."

"A whole show about that? And people don't find that boring?" Jim has never tried an actual office type job. Many other things, yes, but not that. Even if he'd had the right background for it, an unexciting workplace like an office never held any appeal for him.

"Eh, I couldn't really get into it, but some'a the folks in my building think it's just nuts." Clint shrugs expansively. "I think mostly they tune in to watch the office clown prank his boss, and the ways his boss is kinda slowly going crazy."

Ah, that makes more sense. "Wish fulfillment," Jim guesses. "Do most of the fans work the same kind of job?"

"I'm gonna guess, a lot of 'em," Clint agrees.

Of course, now that he's brought it up, Jim can't help but wonder. "Do they do the same kind of show with superheroes?"

"Oh, god," Clint groans, facepalming for a moment. "There was a reality show with a younger team, the New Warriors... but it kinda went bad. Like, really bad."

"Bad in what way?" Jim asks, because that could mean something hilarious or something horrifying depending on what happened.

"Alright, well, the thing about reality TV is there's always some producer trying to push you to do stuff that'll get ratings. So, the team's leader, he figures catching a villain team where they've gone to ground would make for a nice, juicy fight, right? And they find this team that's dug in in a little house in Stamford, Connecticut, and there's a fight. In a suburb. In the middle of the day." Clint's expression is growing more sober by the moment as he relates the tale. "Now, one of these villains, Nitro, his power is he can make things explode. Like, he could pick up a rock and make it go off like a grenade. He gets away from the main fight, and one'a the New Warriors chases him down, throws him against a school bus, in front of a school. In the middle of the day."

He hangs his head and gives Lucky's ears a scratch.

Okay, yeah, that definitely falls on the more horrifying end of the scale. "That's terrible."

Clint nods. "Yeah. Things got pretty bad for a while after that."

"Yeah, I bet." Jim isn't sure who all would even be held responsible for that, but this topic is depressing enough that he doesn't really want to ask for more details.

"Crap, I'm bummin' us both out. Uh, hey, what's cool about the future? When you're from, I mean."

"Besides exploring the galaxy, you mean?" Jim has to think about that. He's made a new twenty-first century friend here on another visit, and gotten a bit of perspective on things that people of that era might find odd or noteworthy, things he either takes for granted or rarely thinks about. "I have it on fairly good authority that hovercars and motorcycles are cool."

"Exploring the galaxy, hovercars, and motorcycles are all great," he agrees. "If my skycycle weren't wrecked, I'd be tempted to ask if you could get me a line on a new stabilizer."

"Skycycle?" Jim repeats, and if his back wasn't bothering him, he'd be leaning forward with interest. His other friend definitely indicated there weren't personal antigrav vehicles available in his timeframe, so this sounds like another point of divergence in history. "Is that what it sounds like?"

Clint grins broadly. "It's exactly what it sounds like." The grin falters. "Or it was, until Deadpool crashed it into a building doing a drive-by on a penthouse where I was pinned down by gangsters."

"That sucks." But he figures they can both agree that dwelling on bad shit isn't particularly what either of them want to do right now, so he doesn't go down that line of questioning. "I had a hoverbike for a while, until I enlisted. Wasn't the kind that actually has antigrav though."

"Actually turned out pretty good. We put most of the gang away, and got the SHIELD agent list back before they could brainwash anybody on it."

Nice to hear there's a bright side to the whole thing, at least. "And was your friend all right? The one who crashed your skycycle."