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The Science of Psionics, Wednesday

"An old friend of mine used to be quite concerned with issues of morality and ethics," Kerrigan began. She had no more sentimental feelings towards Harriet Jones, but the woman was an easy memory to use convincingly. "Personally, I've never quite had the time to stop and think about it."

A lift of her eyebrows that invited taking that as a joke. It... wasn't. At least not nowadays.

"We've touched on this before, of course," she drawled, "But this friend died some time after I left the island, so for sentimentality's sake I'm throwing a stick into this henhouse."

Most likely, the topic wouldn't bring her any interesting intel on these kids, but it might leak something. No matter. Kerrigan was quickly losing her interest in this island as it stood. "Telekinesis, telepathy, all the other forms of this power of the mind we've been talking about, all of it comes with an opportunity for abuse. And yet, on the other side of it - telepaths from my universe had no choice. They couldn't stay out of your head if they wanted to. So was it abusive for them to use their powers?"

Her mouth was a thin line. Almost a smile, if you looked at it wrong.

"Do we - or they, if you're not one of us - have a responsibility to keep ourselves in check? I'm not talking about just my home now. Should we hole ourselves up and wrap ourselves in bubble wrap and come with warning labels?" She snorted. "Or do we exercise the power we've been given and well, pity the poor fools, but it's not our fault they didn't come equipped with the skills to keep us out...? Do our powers make us some special category of people that needs laws pasted all over them, or can we say fuck them, you've got ears and you use them, too, no matter how inconvenient it is to me?"

She glanced over the class. "And can anyone on the outside make demands of us one way or the other? They weren't born with these powers, after all. What do they know? Can they make any accurate judgement about what we're supposed to do? Hm?"

She might have had her opinions.

She waved a hand at the class. "Talk," she said. "Just this once, there are no wrong answers."

Ahahah. There were totally wrong answers.

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Ethically!

Emma Frost

Helen Haras-Uquara

Cally

Dana Scully

Blackagar Boltagon

Spock

Mull on it all.

Emma absentmindedly patted robo-baby Damian on the head as she jotted down a few of the phrases Kerrigan had used, as they'd probably be useful later when dealing with some mutant-hating bigots at home.

If she was also lightly scanning the rest of the class to see who'd protest at the idea of no ethics, well, it was self-defense. Anticipatory self-defense.

Where are the lines? Should telepaths and telekinetics shield other people from their powers? Or is it simply another sense like we have so many?

"Asking me to turn off my telepathy because it makes you uncomfortable is like chopping the hands off a concert pianist because you don't like classical music," Emma said bluntly. "If you aren't lying to people, cheating, or otherwise being an unsavory sort of asshole, then you don't have anything to fear from a telepath, now do you?"

"Just because we have ears doesn't mean it's right for us to listen to private conversations," Cally countered. "I don't think your analogy works; it's more like asking a concert pianist not to play sonatas in the the room next to you at three in the morning. Someone's natural abilities should never be forcefully taken away, but asking for it to be used in a way that doesn't violate others isn't in itself a violation."

"Why don't they keep a civil thought in their heads?" Emma counted. "A little basic courtesy, like keeping your internal monologue below a dull roar, ought to be required if I'm supposed to ignore their little whispers in the night."

"Look at it this way; I rarely sleep more than three hours at a time because all the mental chatter in the dorms wakes me up. Some people would call that a disability, and therefore I should be accomodated. Why should I be the one putting forth all the effort to make them like me, when they're the screaming baby at 'three in the morning' or whatever?" Emma patted her robo-child's head. "No offense, Damian."

"So you'd be fine with the school paying for psi shields to put around your room, like the ones in the meditation room?" Cally asked, rather dubious about the answer given Emma's phrasing. "That would be an accommodation. Asking humans to do something they have no physical ability to do - keep telepaths out - would be like accommodating someone who didn't breathe an oxygen atmosphere by asking everyone else to grow gills."

"Yes, actually, I would be fine with that," Emma said, sweetly. "And it's not a matter of keeping us out - I'm not talking about waltzing into some strange teenager's head and rooting around for fun. That's not worth my time, and it's usually disgusting and unsanitary in there."

"They can learn enough mental discipline to adjust their volume, and it would do them good in the long run anyway to learn how to be more focused."

Cally gave that one a little more time for thought before answering. "I'd agree with that, actually, if it's possible. My people teach their children those things at a fairly young age; if it's something humans can learn, there ought to be training available in worlds where telepaths exist."

"The onerous doesn't always have to be on the telepath," Emma agreed, cheered that someone finally understood what she was getting at. "Humans can learn it, I know I've worked with a few students here on tricks and tips, and a disciplined mind will get them farther in the long run."

"Yes you do," Scully said, her voice going cold. "There's things that are perfectly ethical, but too painful to share with someone you don't know or trust."

Like you was thought as loudly as possible.

"Would you like me to know your most painful but non-illegal secret? Are you going to blurt it out for everyone to know?"

"Do you pick at it?" Emma asked idly, not even bothering to look up from her notes. "Is it a scab that you gnaw and itch and rip at, constantly bleeding all over the floor? Is it the bone you gnaw on over and over every night before sleeping?"

"If yes, you need therapy. If no, then I'm not going to pick it up out of your brain just because I walked past. As I mentioned to Cally, I don't randomly look into some strange teenager's head and dig around for fun. That's not worth my time, and it's usually disgusting and unsanitary in there. So step up and take responsibility for your own mental sloppiness."

"Sometimes," Scully said, her voice even, although the color in her face rose. "And I wouldn't argue with that. I try not to lie to myself." Too many horrible things, from being 36 to the cancer to... she derailed herself, focused hard on her own hands, thought, should polish my nails, file them down to keep from either handing Emma ammunition or hurting her, if she was was being honest about how this effected her.

Her voice was quiet but still hard. "How are we supposed to know that you can read us? If someone isn't in this class with you-- or with everyone in here," she looked around, the one 'mundane' or 'normal' or 'baseline' person she could see for a moment, "How are we supposed to know we're being rude, and need to do -- what? Sing in our heads? Even after weeks in this class, the most I know is not to concentrate hard on something unpleasant around someone who can pick it up. But it's not like I know who that is. And sometimes you can't control it. You of all people must know that."

"So, what, you'd rather have anyone who might be a psychic tested?" Emma asked, voice dangerously sweet. "You're right. Anyone at this school, not just in this class, could be a telepath."

"What about those who don't have the control it takes to ensure that we stay out, 24-7? None of us asked to be what we are, we had no choice in the matter. We're born this way. What do you recommend, then? Locking us up where we can't hurt the feelings of sapiens such as yourself? Mutant concentration camps are fairly popular back home, to hear Jono tell it."

"No, I don't." Seriously didn't. Too many problems it would create for psychics. She'd seen what it had done to them before. "My point was, if I don't know you're psychic, I don't know I'm being rude. You seem to be very annoyed that teenagers are teenagers, when it's not aimed at you. You can't turn off your telepathy? Or you resent that people want you to?"

"And no," Scully said patiently. "Don't assume I'd side with that. I never would. I was asking about you. What do you, Emma, want me, Scully, to do? Control. Calm. I can do that. I don't think it's ethically wrong, though, if you can stay out of mind, to expect you not to trespass. If you can't help it, I'm sorry. But I'm not psychic. I can't know I'm hurting you, if no one tells me."

Emma flicked her eyes upward slightly, regarding Scully with one of her classic 'Are You Really That Dumb?' Looks. "Do I strike you as the type to stay meek and silent if you are doing something that truly vexed me, beyond the typical broadcasting? Really?"

"To completely suppress my mutation, I need an outside source, an inhibitor. I have one for emergencies," thank you, Karla, "-but that's switching-off something on a deep biological level, like my immune system. Do you really think that's healthy?"

"Question answered, okay. You're disabled in the turning-it-off department." Scully considered, ignoring Emma's eyerolling. Because yes, some people were that dumb-- and why didn't she already have shields around her room, if it was so bad? A side issue that puzzled Scully, but wasn't her real interest. Maybe Emma was just taking the chance to bitch in a friendly environment, and was exaggerating how bad it was if she hadn't done anything about it.

"I was asking about control, though, not switching it off. And you were talking about it as a priviledge too fun to stop. Concert pianist again." Scully had been listening, and the dislike of 'normal people' had come through to her. "If you can't, you can't. But I don't think asking normal people to learn to not broadcast is unreasonable, instead of complaining. Keeping in mind that by your comparison, you're asking the deaf to learn to sing scales in perfect pitch. Or not, as it happens." How could you even tell, when you couldn't hear yourself, never mind anyone else?

Edited 2011-03-31 02:57 (UTC)

"You aren't listening. Like I told Cally, my complaint is that the burden shouldn't be always on the telepath."

"There's a reason I'm so up-front about the fact I'm a telepath, and it's because I don't want people to freak out and think I deliberately deceived them. Asking people not to broadcast? They usually act like I just killed a kitten."

"Besides, a deaf person can learn to sing." Emma, looking so impish probably didn't help your case. "I can let them hear through my ears."

"If they knew what you were talking about, they might be willing to consider it," Scully said mildly. "And you're not listening. I said your request is reasonable. If you can explain it so people can do it." Unamused Scully was unamused. "The same way it's not unreasonable for them to expect you to stay out of their heads, if you could. Or any telepath who can. Yes. I do think the onus is on them, in that case. I don't rifle through their personal effects for blackmail or personal information. Any telepath who can control themselves, who can set up physical shields while they sleep, or who can explain how I can keep them out of my head, has as much responsibility as I do to stay licensed and responsible when I use a gun."

Edited 2011-03-31 03:12 (UTC)

"And yet you missed the part where I said I have taught baseline humans various tips and tricks. It's not my job to solicit every humanoid-based creature on campus and see if they want to learn," Emma retorted. "I'm a student here, not a teacher. If someone comes to me, then yes, I give lessons. I have never turned anyone away that wants to work with my powers. But telling me that I have to explain myself over and over to everyone is branding me as guilty even if I haven't done anything. THAT, I object to."

"I'd be happy to," Scully said promptly. "When?" And after a pause, "The snark doesn't help. But I apologize for any insult you feel I've offered here." Most of it hadn't been aimed at Emma, even if her attitude grated. Just the memories of too many people with too much power and no consideration.

Now Emma was openly staring as if Scully had utterly lost her mind.

"No," she said succinctly. "You deliberately thought - very loudly, I might add, and it was deliberate - that people like me were not to be trusted. You do not apologize for any insult you offered, and you're taking your issues out on me."

"I'm not letting someone who needs therapy as badly as you do into my head. It isn't safe and I don't want the migraine from your attitude. I will not do someone who accuses me of things without proof a favor. Go find another telepath to help you, Miss Scully, because I don't work with bigots."

Your comparison is flawed, Blackagar wrote on his notebook, holding it up for her to read.

"How? This is one of my senses. The few times I've shut my telepathy down completely while here, it was like being plunged into some sort of sensory deprivation. No one should have to go through that just to make some bigot more comfortable," she challenged. "It's also what makes me, me. Would you deny someone an intrinsic part of themselves, in case they might play a song you don't like, or overhear a passing thought?"

Control is not denial of your gifts, Blackagar wrote back after a moment. It does, however, separate you from a mere animal.

Like, you know, humans were.

"Control isn't turning it off. Control is managing the input, riding over the top without getting dragged under," she objected. "To turn it off, I would have to isolate each individual mind and block it off. Wouldn't that me more intrusive, if I have to identify the thoughts and acquaint myself with their thoughts enough to be able to block them all the time? What do you think would happen if I tried to do that with every single student at this school?"

The stereotypical telepathic nosebleeds, Blackagar. The nosebleeds! You didn't want that, did you?

Blackagar remained unimpressed. Perhaps because someone lived a very special and isolated life before leaving with Medusalith.

Perhaps you are genetically incapable of such control, he granted her. Humans are fragile creatures.

"Actually," Spock said, "the more apt comparison would be to asking a concert pianist--or anyone else, for that matter--to not touch something, which is a logical request in many circumstances." Spock was a touch telepath. He knew of what he spoke.

Edited 2011-03-31 03:13 (UTC)

"Asking me to never use my powers is exactly like asking them to never play the piano," she replied. "Although perhaps a better comparison would be a composer."

"Think of my brand of telepathy as a radio, with the dial out of control, or standing in the middle of Times Square on New Year's Eve with your eyes closed. Could you ask them to never think of a melody?"

"No," Spock said, "it is not, and your saying it is does not make it so. And I never said you or any other psychic should never use their powers, merely that there are many circumstances where they should not use them."

Then he tilted his head and said, "Then perhaps you should attempt to find a way to...control the dial, as it were. Whether that is by learning mental discipline, or by some sort of external means."

"I find the assumption that we all automatically use our powers against people deeply problematic," she admitted, willing to engage Spock because he was 1) well reasoned and 2) unfailing polite. "Even if I overhear something, which I often do, look at the numbers. I have been here two years, and I challenge anyone to point to an instance when I used my powers against them for blackmail purposes."

Emma freely acknowledged that she was a mean bitch, but really. Besides the annoying Harper-kid, there wasn't really anyone who could claim she misused her powers with them, and she'd only really poked at him, she hadn't done anything harmful.

Raven? Did Not Count.

"Would you like to see?" she offered, turning her hands palm-up if he wanted to see inside her head. "I have no objections, and Kerrigan can come along to make sure I'm not up to shenanigans if you like."

Who's allowed to make fun of you if you start talking about being nice to people.

If you started on about playing nice or any of that nonsense, or how it was HER responsibility, Emma was ~~possibly~~ totally going to rip you apart.

"I always love this debate," Kerrigan drawled, darkly. "Don't you?"

To be fair, she was evil. To be doubly fair, nobody actually knew that.

"Not particularly," Emma replied lightly. "It always ends with me wanting to give people something to be afraid about, and I'd rather not be expelled so close to graduation."

"It's easy to yell all this bullshit about being nice to people," she snorted. "Sometimes I wish Fandom was more of a proving ground..."

"It is," she objected. "You prove you can resist the urge to vivisect the first annoying bigot, and wait until the time is right to do something much more entertaining."

Like putting imaginary bugs under the skin of people that you didn't like, and would never see again. That had been most satisfactory, and Emma half-wished she had more people like Renee and the Uncles of Briarwood to practice on.

"And how is your track record with 'more entertaining'?" Kerrigan asked.

Don't sound so interested, Sarah.

"Not as long as it should be, considering there's a few people I have ideas for," she muttered. Hobart.

Emma, don't sound so sulky about not getting your telepathic violence on.

Who needs no such allowance to make fun of you.

IT TOOK ME FIVE HOURS TO POST THIS WTF LJ

Oh, man, I'm sad that Jono is going to be missing this one, because he'd have words. Alas, he's currently stranded on a rock in the middle of nothingness as time gets compressed around him, but he'll be back again next week.

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The Science of Psionics, Wednesday

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