Poem: "Clipped"
Dec. 21st, 2014 05:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem is from the November 2014 Creative Jam. It was inspired by a prompt from dialecticdreamer. It also fills the "orphans and runaways" square in my 9-29-14 card for the ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
origfic_bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by Anthony & Shirley Barrette. It belongs to the Danso & Family thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.
WARNING: This poem features some intense topics. Highlight to read warnings, some of which are spoilers. Topics include runaway and homeless youth, mistreatment of a teen girl, religious abuse, hostility against superpowers, parental condemnation, superpower injury, pressuring someone to use a superpower, a horrible argument, questionable use of a superpower, and high stress. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your mindstate before deciding whether to read further.
"Clipped"
As soon as the girl walked into the SPOON base,
Groundhog knew that something was wrong;
her whole demeanor raised alarms for him.
She was tall and healthy, but slouched down
as if trying to hide her true size. She had fair skin,
brown eyes, and long brown hair escaping from two braids
fastened at the ends with rubber bands. Her clothes
were rumpled, both knees ripped out of her jeans,
and she carried a worn army-surplus dufflebag.
"Hi, I'm Groundhog. How can I help you?"
he asked, giving her his best smile.
"I'm Cassandra. I heard that you helped people ...
who were soups, or were hurt by soups," she said.
The alarms in Groundhog's head escalated sharply.
He thumbed the yellow button under his desk that
would alert Granny Whammy to a situation
which was serious, but not an emergency.
"Are you hurt now?" he asked Cassandra.
She shrugged. "No more than usual."
Groundhog brought out one of the soft, fuzzy blankets
that they kept for visitors in distress. This particular one
was white with pink cupcakes. "Here, take this,"
he said as he draped it around her shoulders.
"How old are you? If you're still underage,
I can call one of our youth advocates for you,
or a supportive adult if you'd like to name one."
"I'm eighteen, today," Cassandra said,
"and I have a driver's license to prove it."
The plastic card snapped against the desk
as her thumb released the corner of it.
"Okay, that makes some things easier,"
Groundhog said, verifying her age.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
Cassandra pulled the edge of the blanket
through her fingers. "When I was fourteen,
I manifested a superpower, Flight.
I wanted to learn how to use it properly,
but ... my parents didn't like it.
I could only practice in secret, and
if they caught me, I got in trouble."
Groundhog hid his flinch. "I'm listening."
"They're really strict. They belong to
the Evangelical Methodist Church,"
she said. "First they tried suppression therapy,
but when that didn't work, they looked for
something more permanent."
"That sounds alarming," Groundhog said.
Suppression therapy was legal, but it wasn't
very effective, and it could do a lot of damage.
There were worse things to worry about, too.
"Six months ago, they found a man who
said he could cut the power out of me,"
Cassandra went on, "and now it hurts,
all the time, not as bad as it did at first
but just this constant nagging ache.
I miss being able to fly. I miss the wind
in my hair and birdwatching eye-to-eye ..."
Groundhog shuddered. "I am so sorry to hear that,"
he said. Clipping was legal too, though rare because
almost nobody could do it. In some cases it could
save lives, but more often it destroyed them.
"We've sheltered runaway teens before --"
"Oh, I tried that," she said grimly. "They caught me
every time, and dragged me home, like a runaway slave.
But my parents don't fucking own me anymore.
I'm a free woman now, and nobody can
make me go back to them."
"What were you hoping for when
you came to us?" Groundhog asked.
"I don't know," Cassandra said. "A place to stay?
Maybe a job?" Her voice dropped to a growl.
"Somebody to send that clipper to meet the devil,
that'd be nice. I've heard some dicey things about SPOON,
but I'd rather belong to you than to my parents."
"We don't own anyone," Granny Whammy
said evenly as she walked into the room.
"We're a loose conglomerate of people
with superpowers, working together
in pursuit of our mutual interests."
Groundhog heaved a sigh of relief.
Granny Whammy would know what to do;
she always did. Quickly he summarized
the situation, emphasizing the chronic pain
which the clipping had caused for Cassandra.
"What do we do now?" he asked.
"You stay on first aid duty,"
Granny Whammy said. "I'll go
make some calls in search of
more serious assistance."
She headed back to her office.
"It'll be okay," Groundhog told Cassandra.
"Granny Whammy knows what she's doing."
He pulled out the first aid kit and offered
the girl a small bottle. "Here, try putting
some of this on your wrists. Blue chamomile
is the go-to first aid supply for soups."
"I'm not really a soup anymore,"
Cassandra said sadly, but she still
dabbed the thick ultramarine oil
on her wrists as instructed.
From Granny Whammy's office came
faint sounds of conversation, the phone
dialing and hanging up and dialing again.
"You were a soup, and if it's your power
that's hurting you -- whatever might be left of it --
then the blue chamomile should help,"
Groundhog said as he tucked the bottle
back where it belonged.
Cassandra sniffed, then wrinkled her nose.
"Magical healing perfume?" she said.
"It's essential oil," Groundhog said.
"Even ordinary people use it to help with
nausea, anxiety, all kinds of complaints.
It just happens to do more for us."
Granny Whammy's voice rose enough
to make out actual words this time.
"... served with boys younger than that
in the war, and they did their part just fine,"
she was saying. "You know I wouldn't ask
unless this was important. I've got nobody
left to call, and I have to try something."
"Am I causing trouble?" Cassandra whispered,
squeezing her hands between her knees.
"No, you're not," Groundhog assured her. "There just
aren't many people who could help with this sort of thing --
any talent in the Power Manipulation field is rare, and
most healers can't affect superpowers directly, just the body."
"Superheroes use our powers for the public good,"
Granny Whammy argued in her most persuasive voice.
"I'm not asking the boy to pull miracles out of his ass,
Hannah, I'm just asking him to take a look and try."
"I'm hungry," Groundhog said, hoping
to distract Cassandra. "What would you like
from the vending machines while I'm up?"
"I'm not fussy," Cassandra said.
Groundhog came back with an apple, a banana,
a ham sandwich, a garden salad sandwich,
and two bottles of tropical fruit juice.
"Take your pick," he invited.
Cassandra snatched the apple and the ham,
bolted the first few bites, but made herself
slow down before Groundhog had time to warn her.
"Thank you," she said to him.
"Are you feeling any better?" he asked,
touching his wrist to indicate the blue chamomile.
"A little better," Cassandra agreed.
Just as they finished eating, Groundhog heard
the soft tap of Tumbler arriving, and looked up
to see her with Danso and Hannah.
It was Granny Whammy who stepped up
to explain the situation to the teenager
who stood nervous but resolute
beside his foster mother.
"I'll do what I can," Danso said.
Cassandra was still more-or-less hiding
under the comfort blanket. At Groundhog's urging,
she loosened her grip and sat up a little more.
"Are you a healer?" Cassandra asked Danso.
"Not ... exactly," the boy hedged, and Groundhog
couldn't blame him for being cagey about his abilities.
"I spent a while on the streets myself, looking after
some younger kids, and sometimes I can ...
help with superpowers, a little. Let me look?"
"Sure, go ahead," Cassandra said.
There was no outward sign of Danso's ability;
he simply gazed at the girl for a long minute.
And then flinched.
"That, um, that really looks ..." he stammered.
"I mean, I can see where it's healed some
but no wonder it's still hurting you."
"Can you fix me?" Cassandra asked
in a small voice. "Or at least make it
so that it doesn't bug me all the time?"
"I'm just not -- my control isn't quite --" Danso began,
then took a deep breath. "I don't know everything
about my power yet. I'm afraid to mess around
in there. I might just make matters worse."
"Oh," Cassandra said.
"Well, thanks for being honest."
Danso swallowed once, twice.
It was hard to tell, given his chocolate skin,
but Groundhog thought the boy's color might be
drifting toward gray, or possibly green,
in any case nothing good for him.
"Scuseme," Danso muttered,
and hurried out of the room.
"Oh, now look what you've done!"
Hannah snapped, rounding on Granny Whammy.
"That did not go as well as I hoped,"
Granny Whammy admitted.
"Jesus Christ on a snow-white jackamule, Helen,
what did you think was going to happen?"
Hannah said as she waved her hands in the air.
"I thought it would work," Granny Whammy said.
"Plenty of young soups just need a bit of a push.
I've seen it work before, or I wouldn't have suggested it!"
Groundhog edged away from the two
superpowered and highly agitated women
verbally going for hell-for-leather.
Now would be a good time to exercise his discretion
and go track down the missing teenager.
Groundhog found Danso in the men's room,
washing his face at the row of sinks.
"How are you?" Groundhog asked.
"I've had better days," Danso said
as he leaned on the white ceramic,
both hands gripping it hard enough
to make his brown knuckles turn tan.
"Can you think of anything that might help
you feel better?" Groundhog said gently.
"I really want to go home now, but ..."
The teen's voice trailed off as he
glanced at the door and then looked away.
The sounds of the ongoing argument
carried clearly through the heavy wood.
"I'll go let your mother know that
you're ready to leave," Groundhog said.
It was the best he could do to help.
Reluctantly he went back to the lobby.
"For the love of God, Hannah, I had to
do something!" Granny Whammy said.
The corner of the desk was slightly crumpled
where her fingers curled over it. "What did you
want me to do, just stand there and tell the poor girl
that there's no hope? You have to understand --"
"No, I don't," Hannah said in frigid tones.
"What I understand is that you brought
my son here and then got him hurt.
I don't care how fucking desperate
you are, you do not do that. SPOON is
dead to me, do you hear what I'm saying?"
Groundhog cleared his throat.
"What?" Hannah snarled at him,
smacking her talent down on his
so hard that it felt like getting hit
with a nerf-covered lead mallet.
Groundhog would rather have faced
a mother grizzly armed with a popgun,
but he screwed up his courage and said,
"Danso would like to go home now, please.
Also the argument is making him uncomfortable."
"Understood," Hannah said curtly.
She pushed a button on her vidwatch.
Moments later, Tumbler touched down again.
She stared as she looked around the room.
"Wow, what hap--" she began.
Hannah growled.
"O ... kay," Tumbler said slowly. "I'll just
take you home and mind my own business."
Danso wobbled back into the room,
looking more than a bit hungover,
and leaned against Hannah.
"You and I will finish this later,"
Hannah said to Granny Whammy.
"Mom, you can't yell at Granny Whammy,"
Danso whispered. "She's Granny Whammy."
"Please leave this to me," Hannah said
in a much gentler tone than she'd been using.
Danso hesitated only briefly before nodding.
"Home," Hannah said to Tumbler,
and the teleporter obeyed.
Back at his desk, Groundhog opened the file
for Hannah Patterson aka the Muffler.
The status field currently said, Fully booked,
information requests only. He erased that
and replaced it with a fresh entry. DO NOT call
until after SPOON has done a large favor for her.
His hands were shaking.
Granny Whammy looked exhausted;
the fight with Hannah had taken a lot out of her.
No, not just exhausted, Groundhog realized
with a sinking sensation: old.
"Call someone from the backup list to come
and cover the main office," Granny Whammy said.
"I am going home. I am going to slather myself
with blue chamomile. Then I am going to bed."
"Yes, ma'am," Groundhog said quietly.
He could sympathize. His head was killing him.
As soon as she left, he used the backup list
to call for a replacement to finish her shift --
and then logged himself off too, calling in
another dispatcher, because he'd be useless.
Cassandra was huddled back in her blanket,
balled up in the corner chair, even her feet
tucked under her butt so that the only thing
that showed was a tuft of messy hair.
Oh, crap. She had been in here
the whole time, listening to that uproar.
"Hey," Groundhog said softly
as he knelt in front of her.
"The coast is clear.
You can come out now."
The blanket shifted, revealing
a narrow tear-streaked face.
"I'm sorry," Cassandra said.
"I didn't mean to hurt anyone."
"You didn't," Groundhog said.
"You did not cause what happened,
you were just the cause of it,
if that makes sense. It's not your fault."
"I guess," Cassandra said.
"I still feel bad about it, though."
"Of course you do," Groundhog said.
"I feel bad about it too. Things went wrong.
You did the right thing coming here, though.
Now we know there's a clipper out there
who hurt you, and might hurt someone else,
so we can try to get him off the market."
"Could I ... maybe ... come home with you?"
Cassandra whispered. "I don't want to stay here."
"Well, I'm not sure that would really be ..."
Groundhog began, then remembered
that she was eighteen and he didn't need
to be qualified as a foster parent.
"Never mind. I'll just go ... I mean,
I'll think of something else," she said.
Go sleep on the street, Groundhog suspected,
and oh hell no, he was not letting that happen.
Groundhog sighed. "If you're going to stay with me,
there are some things you need to know," he said,
lifting his chin. "My superpower is Flight, but
I can't actually use it. I injured myself with it when
I was a baby, so my parents kept me indoors for years,
and now it's hard for me to go out. I usually travel
by teleporter, always when I'm upset ... like now.
So if any of that is going to be a problem for you ..."
"No, it's fine," Cassandra said, shaking her head.
"I guess it's kind of nice to know that someone else
had awful parents, too. That it's not just me."
"My parents aren't awful, they just ... didn't really
know how to raise a superkid," Groundhog said,
trying not to think about his limping attempts
to coax his power back into working order,
especially the most recent disaster with the kitten.
"Most ordinary adults don't know stuff like that.
They meant to protect me. They did keep me alive."
"Yeah, that's what mine said too."
Groundhog winced. "Let's just go home.
It has been a crummy day all around," he said.
"I don't have a spare room but I've got a comfy couch."
"I'll take it," Cassandra said hastily.
"I'm feeling better now. That blue stuff helped."
Groundhog keyed his vidwatch to summon Tumbler,
who appeared looking somewhat the worse for wear.
"Tell me this is a milk run," she begged.
"I thought that woman was going to tear my arm off
when I touched the kid to carry them home."
"Cassandra and I need a lift to my place,"
Groundhog said. "I'm putting her up for now."
"Okay," Tumbler said, beckoning.
Groundhog stepped into her embrace,
pressing their bodies together and
tucking his feet between hers
before wrapping his arms
securely around her waist.
Tumbler reached one arm around his hips
while the other hand cupped the back of his head,
sheltering him against her body. Then she sighed.
"I hate to do this to you when you're already
so shaken up, but I need a hand free
for my other passenger," she said.
"Which one do you want to give up?"
Groundhog was still struggling to formulate a reply
when Cassandra said, "You just need to be
touching me, right? And he needs to be held tight?"
"Yes, that's correct," Tumbler said.
"I've got an idea," Cassandra said,
and then she snuggled against his back,
wrapping the silly little cupcake blanket
around all three of them. "Will this work?"
"Perfect," Tumbler said.
It really was. They shifted a bit,
but Groundhog couldn't really tell
whose hands went where, and it
didn't matter so long as he was
protected during the jump.
Tumbler set them down softly on
the compass rose rug taped off-kilter
on his living room floor so that it
actually aligned with North.
Cassandra untangled herself from Groundhog
and took possession of the squashy brown couch,
shoving her dufflebag under the end table.
"You two take care now,"
Tumbler said, then disappeared.
"Yeah," Groundhog said softly.
"I think we can manage that."
* * *
Notes:
Cassandra Vogler -- She has fair skin, brown eyes, and long brown hair habitually worn in braids. Parts of her hair tend to bleach out to a more golden tone. Cassandra is an only child, with no cousins or even close friends her age. Tall for a girl, she tends to hunch down in attempt to hide her true stature. She is gawky and awkward in her body.
Having just turned 18, Cassandra demands that people treat her as an adult woman and quickly becomes belligerent if she feels that people are treating her like a child -- because to her, being a child is associated with people being free to hurt her. Now that she's an adult, she wants to learn how to defend herself. She dislikes coffee, but insists that it's an acquired taste and she's determined to acquire it.
Her family belongs to the Evangelical Methodist Church. When Cassandra's superpower manifested, her parents first put her into suppression therapy, which spurred several unsuccessful attempts to run away. Later they found a clipper to remove her Flight ability. That loss has left Cassandra with chronic pain, and a deeply conflicted identity crisis over whether she is still "really" a soup with her power crippled. She is more at risk for lashing out than for regressive types of teen rebellion.
Origin: Her superpower emerged at puberty. Her parents immediately started trying to make it go away.
Uniform: Street clothes.
Qualities: Good (+2) Artist, Good (+2) Birdwatching, Good (+2) Bookworm, Good (+2) Endurance
Poor (-2) Hostility Issues
Powers: formerly Average (0) Flight
Motivation: Escape from parents.
Tumbler (Leanna Nolan) -- She has tawny skin, amber eyes, and long straight red hair. Her body is slim and strong, with small breasts and narrow hips. Leanna has been a gymnast since her toddler years. After her superpowers manifested, she came to work for the Onion City SPOON base, with the understanding that if anyone ever identifies her assailant, SPOON will help bring them to justice. As a teleporter, she excels at reaching people even in the midst of a fight and pulling them to safety. She is friends with Leapfrog down in Easy City.
Origin: During her last Olympic tour, someone tried to poison her with an unknown substance. She completed her routine and then dropped to the mat with convulsions. After spending several weeks in the hospital, she developed superpowers.
Uniform: Navy blue shirt and pants with the SPOON logo embroidered in silver on the chest pocket..
Qualities: Master (+6) Gymnast, Good (+2) Organized, Good (+2) Patriot
Powers: Expert (+4) Teleporting, Good (+2) Super-Speed
Motivation: To discover the truth.
* * *
Homeless and runaway teens have many reasons behind their situation, but nearly half left because of abuse and/or neglect. Although LGBT teens make up only about 10% of the population, they are around 40% of homeless/runaway teens. Similarly, soups make up a disproportional amount of displaced teens in Terramagne-America. In some states here, there are no laws against running away from home, and police do not get involved; in others, fleeing teens can be hunted down and returned by force. Parents can hurt their children in many legal ways, such as this list found by surveying suicidal teens. States vary as to whether they check all, some, or none of the homes before returning runaway teens to their parents. In T-America the average is better, but still not perfect. This set of tips for preventing teens from running away is aimed at healthy families. Teens fleeing for cause should consult a resource such as National Safe Place. There are also ways to help a friend who might run away.
This is the comfort blanket offered to Cassandra. Feeling cold is common in cases of emotional trauma, so a warm fuzzy blanket can help. SPOON stocks plenty of blankets for this purpose, just like ambulances and firetrucks do.
Evangelical Protestants, and particularly the Evangelical Methodist Church, are known to oppose homosexuality. I have used traits such as sexual orientation and gender identity to estimate which churches would most likely object to superpowers in Terramagne. However, bear in mind that not all of them do so -- some consider powers to be neutral and the application to be good or evil, while others may even consider them a gift from God.
Parental rejection of a teenager's identity is most common among gay or trans teens, but can occur for other reasons. In Terramagne, superkids run a much higher risk of being condemned or kicked out of the house, compared to ordinary ones. A healthy family encourages and supports young people as they develop their identity.
Gay conversion therapy such as Exodus International has provided the inspiration for superpower suppression therapy in Terramagne. It's a tricky situation because the therapy can do serious damage, and suppressing thoughts may make them rebound even stronger, but banning such therapy may also do more harm than good. See a map showing the location of gay conversion therapists. In Terramagne, it is possible for a superpower to shut off after manifesting, but it's very rare. Suppression therapy aims to achieve this deliberately, and has a factual success rate around 1%, although the claimed rate is much higher. More often what it does is cripple someone's ability to use their superpower safely, consciously, and precisely.
Clipping (permanent removal of superpowers) is currently legal for consenting adults, or for minors with parental permission. It is possible to remove superpowers safely, much as it is possible to remove other body parts safely; but it is much easier to do badly than to do well, especially without training. Removal can be life-saving or at least life-improving in the case of superdisempowers or superpowers that cause serious problems. Removal of healthy superpowers consistently does more harm than good. Slightly less than half of clipping procedures are unsafe, meaning that it is self-induced or the performer had no apprenticeship and no medical backup in case of complications. The rate of physical complications requiring treatment is about 1 in 20 for safe procedures and 1 in 4 for unsafe procedures. Figures for psychological complications vary widely. For this I did some research into unsafe abortions, which also have a high rate of complications.
Cassandra consistently displays closed body language.
Blue Chamomile is an essential oil derived from the chamomile plant, often shortened to "blue" among soups. It soothes a variety of metaphysical complaints and is their go-to first aid supply.
Healthy snacks for teens and kids may be simple or more elaborate. In our world, there's a trend toward vending machines with healthy food, which is farther along in Terramagne. At SPOON the risk isn't obesity, but rather people filling up on junk when they need serious nutrients to fuel a lifestyle known for high activity and high injury. So they have one machine with fresh fruits and vegetables, one for sandwiches and yogurt, one for candy and chips, one for fruit juices and other beverages. The water cooler is free. They have other resources, but that's the stuff they make sure is readily visible in the most public areas. Sizes are smaller in Terramagne than here, as they skipped the portion growth, and it's common for vending machines and restaurant menus to highlight their healthier options.
Pushing too hard on teens can cause problems. There are tips for avoiding this. Granny Whammy grew up in a time when civic duty was paramount, and that doesn't always mesh well with contemporary perspectives.
When parents or other respected adults have loud, hostile arguments that can be very stressful for teens. There are healthy and unhealthy ways to argue. Hannah goes all Mama Bear when something threatens her kids, so she and Granny Whammy aren't giving a great example of how to fight fair.
Ideally, nobody is above the law; in practice, the law often doesn't apply to people who are wealthy, powerful, and/or respected. Here it's a case of social rather than legal exclusion -- Danso excusing Granny Whammy just because of who she is. Fortunately Hannah responds by deflecting that rather than turning it into another argument.
See the compass rug and couch in Groundhog's home.
dialecticdreamer. It also fills the "orphans and runaways" square in my 9-29-14 card for the origfic_bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by Anthony & Shirley Barrette. It belongs to the Danso & Family thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.WARNING: This poem features some intense topics. Highlight to read warnings, some of which are spoilers. Topics include runaway and homeless youth, mistreatment of a teen girl, religious abuse, hostility against superpowers, parental condemnation, superpower injury, pressuring someone to use a superpower, a horrible argument, questionable use of a superpower, and high stress. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your mindstate before deciding whether to read further.
"Clipped"
As soon as the girl walked into the SPOON base,
Groundhog knew that something was wrong;
her whole demeanor raised alarms for him.
She was tall and healthy, but slouched down
as if trying to hide her true size. She had fair skin,
brown eyes, and long brown hair escaping from two braids
fastened at the ends with rubber bands. Her clothes
were rumpled, both knees ripped out of her jeans,
and she carried a worn army-surplus dufflebag.
"Hi, I'm Groundhog. How can I help you?"
he asked, giving her his best smile.
"I'm Cassandra. I heard that you helped people ...
who were soups, or were hurt by soups," she said.
The alarms in Groundhog's head escalated sharply.
He thumbed the yellow button under his desk that
would alert Granny Whammy to a situation
which was serious, but not an emergency.
"Are you hurt now?" he asked Cassandra.
She shrugged. "No more than usual."
Groundhog brought out one of the soft, fuzzy blankets
that they kept for visitors in distress. This particular one
was white with pink cupcakes. "Here, take this,"
he said as he draped it around her shoulders.
"How old are you? If you're still underage,
I can call one of our youth advocates for you,
or a supportive adult if you'd like to name one."
"I'm eighteen, today," Cassandra said,
"and I have a driver's license to prove it."
The plastic card snapped against the desk
as her thumb released the corner of it.
"Okay, that makes some things easier,"
Groundhog said, verifying her age.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
Cassandra pulled the edge of the blanket
through her fingers. "When I was fourteen,
I manifested a superpower, Flight.
I wanted to learn how to use it properly,
but ... my parents didn't like it.
I could only practice in secret, and
if they caught me, I got in trouble."
Groundhog hid his flinch. "I'm listening."
"They're really strict. They belong to
the Evangelical Methodist Church,"
she said. "First they tried suppression therapy,
but when that didn't work, they looked for
something more permanent."
"That sounds alarming," Groundhog said.
Suppression therapy was legal, but it wasn't
very effective, and it could do a lot of damage.
There were worse things to worry about, too.
"Six months ago, they found a man who
said he could cut the power out of me,"
Cassandra went on, "and now it hurts,
all the time, not as bad as it did at first
but just this constant nagging ache.
I miss being able to fly. I miss the wind
in my hair and birdwatching eye-to-eye ..."
Groundhog shuddered. "I am so sorry to hear that,"
he said. Clipping was legal too, though rare because
almost nobody could do it. In some cases it could
save lives, but more often it destroyed them.
"We've sheltered runaway teens before --"
"Oh, I tried that," she said grimly. "They caught me
every time, and dragged me home, like a runaway slave.
But my parents don't fucking own me anymore.
I'm a free woman now, and nobody can
make me go back to them."
"What were you hoping for when
you came to us?" Groundhog asked.
"I don't know," Cassandra said. "A place to stay?
Maybe a job?" Her voice dropped to a growl.
"Somebody to send that clipper to meet the devil,
that'd be nice. I've heard some dicey things about SPOON,
but I'd rather belong to you than to my parents."
"We don't own anyone," Granny Whammy
said evenly as she walked into the room.
"We're a loose conglomerate of people
with superpowers, working together
in pursuit of our mutual interests."
Groundhog heaved a sigh of relief.
Granny Whammy would know what to do;
she always did. Quickly he summarized
the situation, emphasizing the chronic pain
which the clipping had caused for Cassandra.
"What do we do now?" he asked.
"You stay on first aid duty,"
Granny Whammy said. "I'll go
make some calls in search of
more serious assistance."
She headed back to her office.
"It'll be okay," Groundhog told Cassandra.
"Granny Whammy knows what she's doing."
He pulled out the first aid kit and offered
the girl a small bottle. "Here, try putting
some of this on your wrists. Blue chamomile
is the go-to first aid supply for soups."
"I'm not really a soup anymore,"
Cassandra said sadly, but she still
dabbed the thick ultramarine oil
on her wrists as instructed.
From Granny Whammy's office came
faint sounds of conversation, the phone
dialing and hanging up and dialing again.
"You were a soup, and if it's your power
that's hurting you -- whatever might be left of it --
then the blue chamomile should help,"
Groundhog said as he tucked the bottle
back where it belonged.
Cassandra sniffed, then wrinkled her nose.
"Magical healing perfume?" she said.
"It's essential oil," Groundhog said.
"Even ordinary people use it to help with
nausea, anxiety, all kinds of complaints.
It just happens to do more for us."
Granny Whammy's voice rose enough
to make out actual words this time.
"... served with boys younger than that
in the war, and they did their part just fine,"
she was saying. "You know I wouldn't ask
unless this was important. I've got nobody
left to call, and I have to try something."
"Am I causing trouble?" Cassandra whispered,
squeezing her hands between her knees.
"No, you're not," Groundhog assured her. "There just
aren't many people who could help with this sort of thing --
any talent in the Power Manipulation field is rare, and
most healers can't affect superpowers directly, just the body."
"Superheroes use our powers for the public good,"
Granny Whammy argued in her most persuasive voice.
"I'm not asking the boy to pull miracles out of his ass,
Hannah, I'm just asking him to take a look and try."
"I'm hungry," Groundhog said, hoping
to distract Cassandra. "What would you like
from the vending machines while I'm up?"
"I'm not fussy," Cassandra said.
Groundhog came back with an apple, a banana,
a ham sandwich, a garden salad sandwich,
and two bottles of tropical fruit juice.
"Take your pick," he invited.
Cassandra snatched the apple and the ham,
bolted the first few bites, but made herself
slow down before Groundhog had time to warn her.
"Thank you," she said to him.
"Are you feeling any better?" he asked,
touching his wrist to indicate the blue chamomile.
"A little better," Cassandra agreed.
Just as they finished eating, Groundhog heard
the soft tap of Tumbler arriving, and looked up
to see her with Danso and Hannah.
It was Granny Whammy who stepped up
to explain the situation to the teenager
who stood nervous but resolute
beside his foster mother.
"I'll do what I can," Danso said.
Cassandra was still more-or-less hiding
under the comfort blanket. At Groundhog's urging,
she loosened her grip and sat up a little more.
"Are you a healer?" Cassandra asked Danso.
"Not ... exactly," the boy hedged, and Groundhog
couldn't blame him for being cagey about his abilities.
"I spent a while on the streets myself, looking after
some younger kids, and sometimes I can ...
help with superpowers, a little. Let me look?"
"Sure, go ahead," Cassandra said.
There was no outward sign of Danso's ability;
he simply gazed at the girl for a long minute.
And then flinched.
"That, um, that really looks ..." he stammered.
"I mean, I can see where it's healed some
but no wonder it's still hurting you."
"Can you fix me?" Cassandra asked
in a small voice. "Or at least make it
so that it doesn't bug me all the time?"
"I'm just not -- my control isn't quite --" Danso began,
then took a deep breath. "I don't know everything
about my power yet. I'm afraid to mess around
in there. I might just make matters worse."
"Oh," Cassandra said.
"Well, thanks for being honest."
Danso swallowed once, twice.
It was hard to tell, given his chocolate skin,
but Groundhog thought the boy's color might be
drifting toward gray, or possibly green,
in any case nothing good for him.
"Scuseme," Danso muttered,
and hurried out of the room.
"Oh, now look what you've done!"
Hannah snapped, rounding on Granny Whammy.
"That did not go as well as I hoped,"
Granny Whammy admitted.
"Jesus Christ on a snow-white jackamule, Helen,
what did you think was going to happen?"
Hannah said as she waved her hands in the air.
"I thought it would work," Granny Whammy said.
"Plenty of young soups just need a bit of a push.
I've seen it work before, or I wouldn't have suggested it!"
Groundhog edged away from the two
superpowered and highly agitated women
verbally going for hell-for-leather.
Now would be a good time to exercise his discretion
and go track down the missing teenager.
Groundhog found Danso in the men's room,
washing his face at the row of sinks.
"How are you?" Groundhog asked.
"I've had better days," Danso said
as he leaned on the white ceramic,
both hands gripping it hard enough
to make his brown knuckles turn tan.
"Can you think of anything that might help
you feel better?" Groundhog said gently.
"I really want to go home now, but ..."
The teen's voice trailed off as he
glanced at the door and then looked away.
The sounds of the ongoing argument
carried clearly through the heavy wood.
"I'll go let your mother know that
you're ready to leave," Groundhog said.
It was the best he could do to help.
Reluctantly he went back to the lobby.
"For the love of God, Hannah, I had to
do something!" Granny Whammy said.
The corner of the desk was slightly crumpled
where her fingers curled over it. "What did you
want me to do, just stand there and tell the poor girl
that there's no hope? You have to understand --"
"No, I don't," Hannah said in frigid tones.
"What I understand is that you brought
my son here and then got him hurt.
I don't care how fucking desperate
you are, you do not do that. SPOON is
dead to me, do you hear what I'm saying?"
Groundhog cleared his throat.
"What?" Hannah snarled at him,
smacking her talent down on his
so hard that it felt like getting hit
with a nerf-covered lead mallet.
Groundhog would rather have faced
a mother grizzly armed with a popgun,
but he screwed up his courage and said,
"Danso would like to go home now, please.
Also the argument is making him uncomfortable."
"Understood," Hannah said curtly.
She pushed a button on her vidwatch.
Moments later, Tumbler touched down again.
She stared as she looked around the room.
"Wow, what hap--" she began.
Hannah growled.
"O ... kay," Tumbler said slowly. "I'll just
take you home and mind my own business."
Danso wobbled back into the room,
looking more than a bit hungover,
and leaned against Hannah.
"You and I will finish this later,"
Hannah said to Granny Whammy.
"Mom, you can't yell at Granny Whammy,"
Danso whispered. "She's Granny Whammy."
"Please leave this to me," Hannah said
in a much gentler tone than she'd been using.
Danso hesitated only briefly before nodding.
"Home," Hannah said to Tumbler,
and the teleporter obeyed.
Back at his desk, Groundhog opened the file
for Hannah Patterson aka the Muffler.
The status field currently said, Fully booked,
information requests only. He erased that
and replaced it with a fresh entry. DO NOT call
until after SPOON has done a large favor for her.
His hands were shaking.
Granny Whammy looked exhausted;
the fight with Hannah had taken a lot out of her.
No, not just exhausted, Groundhog realized
with a sinking sensation: old.
"Call someone from the backup list to come
and cover the main office," Granny Whammy said.
"I am going home. I am going to slather myself
with blue chamomile. Then I am going to bed."
"Yes, ma'am," Groundhog said quietly.
He could sympathize. His head was killing him.
As soon as she left, he used the backup list
to call for a replacement to finish her shift --
and then logged himself off too, calling in
another dispatcher, because he'd be useless.
Cassandra was huddled back in her blanket,
balled up in the corner chair, even her feet
tucked under her butt so that the only thing
that showed was a tuft of messy hair.
Oh, crap. She had been in here
the whole time, listening to that uproar.
"Hey," Groundhog said softly
as he knelt in front of her.
"The coast is clear.
You can come out now."
The blanket shifted, revealing
a narrow tear-streaked face.
"I'm sorry," Cassandra said.
"I didn't mean to hurt anyone."
"You didn't," Groundhog said.
"You did not cause what happened,
you were just the cause of it,
if that makes sense. It's not your fault."
"I guess," Cassandra said.
"I still feel bad about it, though."
"Of course you do," Groundhog said.
"I feel bad about it too. Things went wrong.
You did the right thing coming here, though.
Now we know there's a clipper out there
who hurt you, and might hurt someone else,
so we can try to get him off the market."
"Could I ... maybe ... come home with you?"
Cassandra whispered. "I don't want to stay here."
"Well, I'm not sure that would really be ..."
Groundhog began, then remembered
that she was eighteen and he didn't need
to be qualified as a foster parent.
"Never mind. I'll just go ... I mean,
I'll think of something else," she said.
Go sleep on the street, Groundhog suspected,
and oh hell no, he was not letting that happen.
Groundhog sighed. "If you're going to stay with me,
there are some things you need to know," he said,
lifting his chin. "My superpower is Flight, but
I can't actually use it. I injured myself with it when
I was a baby, so my parents kept me indoors for years,
and now it's hard for me to go out. I usually travel
by teleporter, always when I'm upset ... like now.
So if any of that is going to be a problem for you ..."
"No, it's fine," Cassandra said, shaking her head.
"I guess it's kind of nice to know that someone else
had awful parents, too. That it's not just me."
"My parents aren't awful, they just ... didn't really
know how to raise a superkid," Groundhog said,
trying not to think about his limping attempts
to coax his power back into working order,
especially the most recent disaster with the kitten.
"Most ordinary adults don't know stuff like that.
They meant to protect me. They did keep me alive."
"Yeah, that's what mine said too."
Groundhog winced. "Let's just go home.
It has been a crummy day all around," he said.
"I don't have a spare room but I've got a comfy couch."
"I'll take it," Cassandra said hastily.
"I'm feeling better now. That blue stuff helped."
Groundhog keyed his vidwatch to summon Tumbler,
who appeared looking somewhat the worse for wear.
"Tell me this is a milk run," she begged.
"I thought that woman was going to tear my arm off
when I touched the kid to carry them home."
"Cassandra and I need a lift to my place,"
Groundhog said. "I'm putting her up for now."
"Okay," Tumbler said, beckoning.
Groundhog stepped into her embrace,
pressing their bodies together and
tucking his feet between hers
before wrapping his arms
securely around her waist.
Tumbler reached one arm around his hips
while the other hand cupped the back of his head,
sheltering him against her body. Then she sighed.
"I hate to do this to you when you're already
so shaken up, but I need a hand free
for my other passenger," she said.
"Which one do you want to give up?"
Groundhog was still struggling to formulate a reply
when Cassandra said, "You just need to be
touching me, right? And he needs to be held tight?"
"Yes, that's correct," Tumbler said.
"I've got an idea," Cassandra said,
and then she snuggled against his back,
wrapping the silly little cupcake blanket
around all three of them. "Will this work?"
"Perfect," Tumbler said.
It really was. They shifted a bit,
but Groundhog couldn't really tell
whose hands went where, and it
didn't matter so long as he was
protected during the jump.
Tumbler set them down softly on
the compass rose rug taped off-kilter
on his living room floor so that it
actually aligned with North.
Cassandra untangled herself from Groundhog
and took possession of the squashy brown couch,
shoving her dufflebag under the end table.
"You two take care now,"
Tumbler said, then disappeared.
"Yeah," Groundhog said softly.
"I think we can manage that."
* * *
Notes:
Cassandra Vogler -- She has fair skin, brown eyes, and long brown hair habitually worn in braids. Parts of her hair tend to bleach out to a more golden tone. Cassandra is an only child, with no cousins or even close friends her age. Tall for a girl, she tends to hunch down in attempt to hide her true stature. She is gawky and awkward in her body.
Having just turned 18, Cassandra demands that people treat her as an adult woman and quickly becomes belligerent if she feels that people are treating her like a child -- because to her, being a child is associated with people being free to hurt her. Now that she's an adult, she wants to learn how to defend herself. She dislikes coffee, but insists that it's an acquired taste and she's determined to acquire it.
Her family belongs to the Evangelical Methodist Church. When Cassandra's superpower manifested, her parents first put her into suppression therapy, which spurred several unsuccessful attempts to run away. Later they found a clipper to remove her Flight ability. That loss has left Cassandra with chronic pain, and a deeply conflicted identity crisis over whether she is still "really" a soup with her power crippled. She is more at risk for lashing out than for regressive types of teen rebellion.
Origin: Her superpower emerged at puberty. Her parents immediately started trying to make it go away.
Uniform: Street clothes.
Qualities: Good (+2) Artist, Good (+2) Birdwatching, Good (+2) Bookworm, Good (+2) Endurance
Poor (-2) Hostility Issues
Powers: formerly Average (0) Flight
Motivation: Escape from parents.
Tumbler (Leanna Nolan) -- She has tawny skin, amber eyes, and long straight red hair. Her body is slim and strong, with small breasts and narrow hips. Leanna has been a gymnast since her toddler years. After her superpowers manifested, she came to work for the Onion City SPOON base, with the understanding that if anyone ever identifies her assailant, SPOON will help bring them to justice. As a teleporter, she excels at reaching people even in the midst of a fight and pulling them to safety. She is friends with Leapfrog down in Easy City.
Origin: During her last Olympic tour, someone tried to poison her with an unknown substance. She completed her routine and then dropped to the mat with convulsions. After spending several weeks in the hospital, she developed superpowers.
Uniform: Navy blue shirt and pants with the SPOON logo embroidered in silver on the chest pocket..
Qualities: Master (+6) Gymnast, Good (+2) Organized, Good (+2) Patriot
Powers: Expert (+4) Teleporting, Good (+2) Super-Speed
Motivation: To discover the truth.
* * *
Homeless and runaway teens have many reasons behind their situation, but nearly half left because of abuse and/or neglect. Although LGBT teens make up only about 10% of the population, they are around 40% of homeless/runaway teens. Similarly, soups make up a disproportional amount of displaced teens in Terramagne-America. In some states here, there are no laws against running away from home, and police do not get involved; in others, fleeing teens can be hunted down and returned by force. Parents can hurt their children in many legal ways, such as this list found by surveying suicidal teens. States vary as to whether they check all, some, or none of the homes before returning runaway teens to their parents. In T-America the average is better, but still not perfect. This set of tips for preventing teens from running away is aimed at healthy families. Teens fleeing for cause should consult a resource such as National Safe Place. There are also ways to help a friend who might run away.
This is the comfort blanket offered to Cassandra. Feeling cold is common in cases of emotional trauma, so a warm fuzzy blanket can help. SPOON stocks plenty of blankets for this purpose, just like ambulances and firetrucks do.
Evangelical Protestants, and particularly the Evangelical Methodist Church, are known to oppose homosexuality. I have used traits such as sexual orientation and gender identity to estimate which churches would most likely object to superpowers in Terramagne. However, bear in mind that not all of them do so -- some consider powers to be neutral and the application to be good or evil, while others may even consider them a gift from God.
Parental rejection of a teenager's identity is most common among gay or trans teens, but can occur for other reasons. In Terramagne, superkids run a much higher risk of being condemned or kicked out of the house, compared to ordinary ones. A healthy family encourages and supports young people as they develop their identity.
Gay conversion therapy such as Exodus International has provided the inspiration for superpower suppression therapy in Terramagne. It's a tricky situation because the therapy can do serious damage, and suppressing thoughts may make them rebound even stronger, but banning such therapy may also do more harm than good. See a map showing the location of gay conversion therapists. In Terramagne, it is possible for a superpower to shut off after manifesting, but it's very rare. Suppression therapy aims to achieve this deliberately, and has a factual success rate around 1%, although the claimed rate is much higher. More often what it does is cripple someone's ability to use their superpower safely, consciously, and precisely.
Clipping (permanent removal of superpowers) is currently legal for consenting adults, or for minors with parental permission. It is possible to remove superpowers safely, much as it is possible to remove other body parts safely; but it is much easier to do badly than to do well, especially without training. Removal can be life-saving or at least life-improving in the case of superdisempowers or superpowers that cause serious problems. Removal of healthy superpowers consistently does more harm than good. Slightly less than half of clipping procedures are unsafe, meaning that it is self-induced or the performer had no apprenticeship and no medical backup in case of complications. The rate of physical complications requiring treatment is about 1 in 20 for safe procedures and 1 in 4 for unsafe procedures. Figures for psychological complications vary widely. For this I did some research into unsafe abortions, which also have a high rate of complications.
Cassandra consistently displays closed body language.
Blue Chamomile is an essential oil derived from the chamomile plant, often shortened to "blue" among soups. It soothes a variety of metaphysical complaints and is their go-to first aid supply.
Healthy snacks for teens and kids may be simple or more elaborate. In our world, there's a trend toward vending machines with healthy food, which is farther along in Terramagne. At SPOON the risk isn't obesity, but rather people filling up on junk when they need serious nutrients to fuel a lifestyle known for high activity and high injury. So they have one machine with fresh fruits and vegetables, one for sandwiches and yogurt, one for candy and chips, one for fruit juices and other beverages. The water cooler is free. They have other resources, but that's the stuff they make sure is readily visible in the most public areas. Sizes are smaller in Terramagne than here, as they skipped the portion growth, and it's common for vending machines and restaurant menus to highlight their healthier options.
Pushing too hard on teens can cause problems. There are tips for avoiding this. Granny Whammy grew up in a time when civic duty was paramount, and that doesn't always mesh well with contemporary perspectives.
When parents or other respected adults have loud, hostile arguments that can be very stressful for teens. There are healthy and unhealthy ways to argue. Hannah goes all Mama Bear when something threatens her kids, so she and Granny Whammy aren't giving a great example of how to fight fair.
Ideally, nobody is above the law; in practice, the law often doesn't apply to people who are wealthy, powerful, and/or respected. Here it's a case of social rather than legal exclusion -- Danso excusing Granny Whammy just because of who she is. Fortunately Hannah responds by deflecting that rather than turning it into another argument.
See the compass rug and couch in Groundhog's home.
Re: Merry Giftmas!
Date: 2014-12-22 06:42 am (UTC)AKA "coerced consent", and no better when it happens for a "good cause" than when it's used to cow a rape victim.
Granny Whammy is WRONG about this. "Civic duty uber alles" is like "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one" -- a decision you can only make for YOURSELF, not for someone else.
Re: Merry Giftmas!
Date: 2014-12-22 10:41 am (UTC)You stated this more succinctly than I would have (I avoid that particular comparison because locally it invokes the 'colloquial use' argument and completely derails the original point) but I agree quite wholeheartedly.
I do, however, think that Helen is working from a sincerely held but /outmoded/ belief, with no INTENT to cause harm. It's the only reason I think the situation is actually resolvable.
Re: Merry Giftmas!
Date: 2014-12-22 11:10 am (UTC)She is. Her premise even has value. It's just trouble when poured on undiluted.
>> It's the only reason I think the situation is actually resolvable. <<
This is actually a problem which has been developing for years, and that SPOON and Granny Whammy have been working on different aspects of for a while. This incident will make people ask questions and consider how a repetition could be prevented, and hopefully that will lead to some changes.
Re: Merry Giftmas!
Date: 2014-12-22 11:05 am (UTC)AKA "coerced consent", and no better when it happens for a "good cause" than when it's used to cow a rape victim. <<
I would not classify this as coercion, because it was based on pressure rather than force. Danso could have said no to Granny Whammy; some people do; or far more easily, said no to Hannah who would have made it stick with Granny Whammy.
I'd call it "undue influence." It's a social effect, rather than physical force or official authority. A problem is that Granny Whammy has that kind of undue force over nearly the whole of humanity. There are maybe five people who are both her equal in some sort of power and just plain not impressed by her -- Dr. Infanta and Aidan, for instance. Danso is actually more powerful in terms of his superpower, but he's so awed that he doesn't put up a fight. Hannah will tell Granny Whammy to go soak her head; so will Junket. But most people just do what Granny Whammy says, and that's turning the undue influence into the water that fish don't see. What really pins it down is Danso saying that Hannah shouldn't yell at Granny Whammy because of who she is rather than the validity of her argument.
It's exactly that effect, why people like teachers, doctors, pastors, etc. are widely considered to have undue influence if they misuse their authority. It's not just about official ability to command someone, but about social weight that more-or-less mesmerizes people into following commands regardless of whether they're backed by any authoritarian structure.
>> Granny Whammy is WRONG about this. "Civic duty uber alles" is like "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one" -- a decision you can only make for YOURSELF, not for someone else. <<
It's not wrong, it's incomplete. The individual and society are two ends of a spectrum with the healthy part in the middle. Too much emphasis on society and you get despotism. Too much on the individual and you get anarchy. Civic duty is a virtue of civilization. Self-determination is a virtue of individuality. We need both. Terramagne actually has a better balance of that than our world does. It's just that Granny Whammy is ... kind of an avatar of civic duty, and she doesn't always realize that too much of a good thing can be very bad.
She's far enough from her home time that the ideals she grew up with no longer fit as well as they did decades ago. Plus there are not just more soups, but younger and younger ones, which nobody has finished figuring out how to handle yet. SPOON needs more flexibility to cope with that. The premise that "everyone should be a superhero" leaves out all the people who can't or don't want to be, and leaving people out causes problems. Sometimes supervillain ones. It's not an official requirement, insofar as SPOON has any, but the expectation is enough to bug some people.