14518/Thoughts on the Future

Thoughts on the Future
Date of Scene:	20 August 2022
Location:	Mel's Diner - Breakstone
Synopsis:	A man comes to discuss the future with Sarah, and what one should do to save the world.
Cast of Characters:	Doctor Doom, Sarah Connor

---

Doctor Doom has posed:
The future is a malleable thing; the flow of time is not set, and can branch into infinite possibilities based on the smallest choices. It is the mark of great men to make those choices, and decide what future the world will embrace.

And, in truth, humanity has but one great man.

So it is that Doctor Doom has cast his gaze upon the myriad futures, navigating them with his will alone in an effort to save humanity from itself. Yet, as of late, one dark future has loomed above all others, a dark omen ever-present in all of Doom's spells and oracles. A legion of machines, of computer intelligence, of hate, and cruelty, and extinction.. and all of it sparked by a broken fragment of a robot from the future.

--

Here, at Mel's Diner, it's an average workday. A chorus of shuffling feet, sizzling grease, and idle conversation serves as the musical backdrop for yet another one of Sarah's shifts, the afternoon's crowd a mix of regulars and adventurous locals. There at the bar's end is Steve, father of two, biting into a cheeseburger and spilling mustard down the grain of his beard; there at a back booth are Henriette and Dave, a college-aged couple who come in every Friday. They're familiar faces, friendly faces, and today..

Today, they will meet their Doom. The door opens, and an unassuming man enters, brown-haired, brown-eyed, well-dressed. He's an unfamiliar face and he makes for a stool, casual and cool. He plucks a menu from the counter and unfolds it.

Sarah Connor has posed:
Ah! Break time. Fifteen minutes of pure unadulterated bliss. Plus a coffee. Black - of course.

These days she's been able to accept the weirdness that the city has - compared to the jungles of South America. Come on, with saving that tall - really tall as a matter of fact - half-boy/half something else that was hairy (Kit was his name), she relaxed her whole body at the thought. Between Wonder Wonder and Bucky besides, she realized that city living was different. But okay.. sorta.

Terminators were still her number one enemy.

Sitting at the counter, at the end, with her back to the wall, and so that she could glance at the door, and the mirrors at the corners of the diner, she looked around. And grumbled to herself at the customer. Really she should have a partner, and this afternoon there was no one except the cook in the kitchen. Putting down her coffee, she pasted on a smile (fake) and approached the customer.

"Need a minute?"

Doctor Doom has posed:
The brunette man calmly scans the menu listings, eyes tracking side to side with surprising haste. "I'll have a coffee, black," he remarks, hardly even glancing at Sarah as he speaks. He has a self-important air about him, which suits his whole character -- between the high-quality fabric and bespoke cut of his suit, he looks like a Wall Street shark, so it's only proper he not give a single damn about a waitress. "And do hurry. Time is too precious a thing to waste."

Quite the customer, this fellow. His rudeness even earns him a hard look from the previously mentioned regular, Steve, whose mustard-stained bristles are the perfect complement to the red indignation twisting his face. He's like a tomato.

"Now, that's no way to speak to a hard-working woman," the man rumbles, offended on Sarah's behalf. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

The man at last looks up from the menu, turns in his stool, and fixes Steve with a cold stare.

"Of course," he says, after a moment. "I spoke rashly in my haste. The coffee, if you please."

Sarah Connor has posed:
Sarah had hidden a grin as the man orders.. demands.. a coffee without looking up. She shakes her head at the young man who is standing up for her. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."

After all she had had worse than him for a customer.

Raising her voice, as she gets his coffee, "We have a special today. A hambuger with bacon and fresh cut fries, and a slice of pie for $9.99. Can't beat that!" Filling up the coffee she takes over to him.

Doctor Doom has posed:
"I'll take the special, then," the brown-haired man announces, reaching out to clasp his hand around the coffee mug. "A burger and pie sounds delightful." He brings the hot coffee to his lips and drinks, relishing the bitterness of the black drink, though his expression remains neutral. "I have been preoccupied with troubling thoughts, lately." He seems to be talking to himself, content now to ignore the other customers, nursing his dark mug and contemplating some higher mysteries.

When Sarah brings the food to him, and sets his dish before him, he looks up at her for the first time, his eyes seeking hers. There's a startling intensity to that brown gaze, lit with the sort of inner fire that marks zealots and priests; he's staring at her *far* more keenly than he should. "Sit with me for a moment. I need another mind to bounce thoughts off -- I tip generously, I promise you." Given his clothes cost more than you can make in a month waitressing, this is probably true.

Sarah Connor has posed:
Now, normally, that kind invitation doesn't bother her. But something about those peering eyes sends a ripple across her back in alarm. She doesn't *think* he's a terminator, but it hasn't been a whole week since an attack.

He /could/ be sussing her out for the FBI?

Maybe.

"Well, I have to keep an eye on the restaurant. However, I can stand by you on my side of the counter, and drink my coffee?"

Even if Sarah could use the tip, something told her it wasn't worth it. She does bring her coffee mug over to drink though.

Doctor Doom has posed:
"Very well," the man allows. "Stand." He takes another sip of his coffee and wraps his hands around it to soak in the warmth, staring into its rippling surface as though he could see something important in the black. "This world is a chaotic mess," he begins, voice measured and low. "There are ten thousand thousand variables inclining our species to self-destruction on a daily basis; few can appreciate how often we teeter at the precipice of disaster. The masses scurry about in blissful ignorance, never realizing that they live in gardens tended by merciful hands -- nor what it might mean if those tender fingers curled tight around their throats."

He waits a few moments, takes another drink, and sets his mug down with a thud.

"Civilization is fragile, and mankind ill-equipped to navigate the complexities of the environments he has created. Yet -- not all hope is lost. The ship can be steered, the course corrected. If one but has the will to do it."

A pause, and he looks toward Sarah once more.

"Can you imagine knowing the future? Knowing truths others cannot grasp, knowing we hurtle toward damnation. What would you do to save the world?"

Sarah Connor has posed:
Sarah relaxes her butt against the counter behind her, holding her coffee in her left hand.

"If only you had caught me before life happened, and I was forced to give up my college courses." At that she bitterly laughs under her breath. After all, without the information she had been told, she might have been someone else, living a different life that she did now.

Without that knowledge, though, she would never know what she did know. And as much as that was a burden, looking back over the 18+ years, she wouldn't change it for the world.

Especially John.

"I can imagine full well. But think of this, what would we really do if we had that sort of information? Really." As if she doesn't have a pretty good idea what will be happening.

Doctor Doom has posed:
"There is only ever one choice," the man remarks. "And it is the choice that measure's one worth as a person. Do you surrender to fate, or do you fight it?" His fingers curl and his knuckles rattle on the countertop, rhythmic and heavy. "I have often found myself facing obstacles others call insurmountable. They have never been so. It is the nature of lesser minds to embrace defeatism, to set aside responsibility for one's own triumphs and accept that some things can't be changed; by never trying, they avoid the sting of failure. They avoid the terrible injury of striving and being found wanting."

Another sip. The coffee's not bad. He sets down the mug, and clasps his hands together, fingers steepled and held before his face, obscuring parts of it.

"I am not ruled by such craven fears. I will never submit to fate; with my own two hands, I will bend the world into the proper shape. Now tell me, Sarah. What are these curious machines you so fear?"

Sarah Connor has posed:
"Well," Sarah counters. "There's fate. And Fate. Most people are ruled by the little f fate. Don't you think?"

She sips her coffee, thinking how she can explain, while not actually telling him what she knows. "The average person is fated to get up, get to work, sign out, eat their supper, and go to bed. And most people are happy that way. Don't you think?"

"The other ones seem to have to realize they have bigger jobs to be done, and if they realize it, have to decide if they accept, or do they turn their back on Fate, and go back to regular lives."

Doctor Doom has posed:
A shift comes over the man as Sarah exalts the mediocrity of man. His mouth sets into a grim line, his eyes harden, and his voice chills as though ice flows in his veins. "The average person. The average person! I speak of the future, of the world's fate -- these matters are beyond the understanding of the average person, little more than an animal, fit only to be guided by instinct to eat, sleep, and rut. If one cannot even muster the conviction to be more than that -- they are worthless."

He waves a hand dismissively, as though brushing aside the very idea of average people. Disgusting.

"Is that what you are doing, toiling in this diner? Abandoning the burden of choice, and contenting yourself with the drudgery of common labor?"

Sarah Connor has posed:
A short burst of a laugh comes from Sarah.

"What do you think?" She down her coffee mug, and cleans off his dishes before asking what pie he wants. "Would I really be doing this job if I didn't have to?"

Yes. Yes she would while trying to hide herself from the terminators.

Doctor Doom has posed:
For a long, quiet moment, the sharp-eyed man reflects on Sarah's response. "I see," he finally replies, reaching down for his wallet and plucking a fat roll of bills that he sets down next to his plate. "So you are hiding. I wondered what connection you had to the machine I found; I wondered why, when I gazed into countless futures, so many of them were crushed beneath the heel of an artificial intelligence. I had wondered, briefly, if it were of my own devising -- but to think for even a moment I could be outsmarted by my own creation, even in a far-off future, is madness."

He rises to his feet and turns.

"If hiding is all you can manage, you are of no use to me."