Meeting Across the River - [New Jersey, 2009]
It was dark again when Scotty woke up, half-twisted in sheets and still a little groggy. It actually took him a few moments of laying there in that darkness to get his bearings, and remember where he was, and remember when he was
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He leaned back against the counter and downed about half of the cup in one.
"You?"
Oh, right.
"Any noise out of Neil?" Truth be told, now that he had two iotas of consciousness to rub together, he was pretty uncomfortable with the idea of the dude in his apartment. Which was stupid, considering he didn't even want the thing anymore, but it was true. The guy left destruction, love stains and pissed-off prostitutes in his wake.
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He paused a moment, thinking. "This is yer time, aye? How hard's it gonna be fer me t' find legal employment? An' if I canna do that, illegal?"
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We're not going to be staying long enough for it to matter.
"I, ah. Wouldn't know. Legal, probably not." He shook his head; they were both kind of fucked, but at least Harold could prove he was supposed to exist in this time. Harold hadn't had to look for employment for a long time, and his had always been legal. He didn't really know anyone who'd worked under-the-table.
Oh, right. Risa. Hah. So he had.
He was starting to think his own timeline was shorting out or something. Being back here, it was like he had to hold it down in his head and remember to add it in as a part of himself. It was exceedingly frustrating.
"Hoping it isn't going to matter. I can take care of us for a while, I think, unless they shut down my bank account." Harold wasn't even sure who 'they' might be. He waved a hand. "Kumar said something about the police not doing anything, so my savings should be good."
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Scotty looked down into his coffee mug, then shook his head slightly. "I've got my PADD, but there's nae a network in this world that it can connect to. So, eventually I'm gonna have t' find a job, an' some sort o' identification that'll pass me off as a native, or at least some kind o' visitor with work-rights. We canna live off o' yer savings forever."
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Sense.
Kumar might know someone. Harold didn't know the first thing about getting around employment law, but they could figure something out.
Still blinking the exhaustion from his eyes, he nodded, drinking his coffee. Eventually... "If I can talk fast enough, I might still have a job." I'd take care of you.
Hah. Scotty would never let him. The thought made him smile a little, though.
"It would be enough to hold us over. Until we could find a way around it for you, or something." A shitty, awful, repugnant job that Harold thought he'd put behind him. But he'd do it. "You've gotta be careful, though. You shouldn't exist which probably means you have no fucking rights and I've been there," he realized this only really as it was coming out of his mouth. Shit. "Seriously, we have got to keep you off the radar as much as possible."
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After a second or two, he shook his head. "Sorry. It's nae yer fault. But I'm nae so good at..." At what? Letting someone else watch over him? "I like earnin' my keep. I like pullin' my own weight."
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Harold figured he really should can this train of thought, and quickly.
He sipped his coffee, then pressing the cup to his chin and rolling it. Staring off for a moment.
"Don't need to apologize. I know. I mean, fuck. Half the time you're pulling my weight along with yours. I don't want to trap you, or hide you, or something. I just--" Want to keep you safe. The next sentence was quieter. "...I'm scared it'll get you worse than a beating, this time. Human or not, government people are scary. I'd do it, you know? For that. You. Whatever ( ... )
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It was a frustrating situation; what Scotty could remember of his history was just how fragmented Earth was then... now, pre-contact. Borders still marked even his own maps, but they were lines of culture and history, not really for legal purposes requiring documentation to cross them. Nations still made some of their own laws, but any Earth resident could go anywhere on the planet just by virtue of it being their homeworld. And even Federation citizens of other worlds were given a huge amount of free rein ( ... )
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Frustrating was right. He had a foolish, complex set of idealistic romantic notions that had often seen him to hurt and embarrassment. It wasn't purposeful, it was just how he thought. Stumbling through life with high ideals, allowing himself to get bitchslapped by them each and every time ( ... )
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Harold's obvious disheartened expression was kind of... upsetting, really. As though this were somehow the very worst thing that could happen to him. And Scotty cast about for something to say to make it some easier, coming up short and settling for just providing an ear. "Aside goin' back t' 2258... what's somethin' ye've always wanted t' do on Earth?"
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"I guess I never thought much about it. Had day dreams and all that shit, but they didn't mean anything. I'mhere, and that's-- all that matters." He breathed in, trying not to let that settle over him.
Yeah, it was defeatist and he knew it. So he tried to think of something. Anything.
"Actually, it'd be kind of cool just to show you the place," Harold realized with a little grin. "All you future-guys got to show me your weird-ass world. Now I get to show you my little backwards time. So, I guess my answer is a question. What do you want to see?"
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Then he looked back at Harold. "I wanna find some open road, in th' sun, an' drive. Maybe stop somewhere an' pick up some snacks, an' drive some more. I dinna ken much about North America, really; I suppose, since I've nae really considered it, that'd be what I'd want t' do."
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Scotty respected history so far as engineering feats and mechanical accomplishments. But despite not having much interest past that, at least originally, some part of this whole situation appealed to him -- he couldn't get into the world of intangibles on the Enterprise, and while this still wasn't as good as being returned to his native universe, it was still a tangible world. A world where paper was used, and pencils, and rubber tires. Ecologically way behind, but still with its own charm ( ... )
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