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| Log Title | |
|---|---|
| Participants | Bergstrom, Ellen |
| Synopsis | Bergstrom reappears in Manhattan and intervenes when a boy steals something from a store. A cantankerous cop comes along and… |
| Location | Morningside Heights – Manhattan |
| Time | March 1, 2016 |
| Posted By | Ellen |
For late afternoon the weather is neither chilly nor warm. The sky is overcast, adding to an already decrepit scene. Columbia University and vacant storefronts stand temporarily forgotten; while there is Riverside Park, the Hudson River and the New Jersey shoreline, it is not an attractive area otherwise. And with the possibility of a mugging ever looming, it is not the most popular of places in the city, but this is not to say there are not people who frequent Morningside Heights in Manhattan. Ellen is leaving an old private housing cooperative a distance from what used to be almost pristine Beaux-Arts architecture. She walks with neither purpose nor hurry, instead likely returning from some errand or visit to a co-worker or friend.
Scattered people head through the streets. On one corner a young boy with a hood over his head stands considering something behind a thin layer of glass. His pale fingers brush it carefully, and to the casual observer he would appear to be looking at something inside. There are various things up for sale. One is an old handheld gaming console.
Few things can convince Nathan Bergstrom to come into the city. He's a homebody for the most part, he prefers to stay where it's safe, quiet, and preferably around a lot of books. But he had a discussion with a few colleagues, a few colleagues that he'd consider in the 'know' about Columbia and its plans. There had been many people making noise about helping the university get back on its feet, and others sniffing around about the possibility of a professorial position. What the current people in the upper echelons of the school were looking for was someone to go the extra mile, to show the due diligence needed to separate themselves from the crowd.
It was just such a thing as 'due diligence' that led Bergstrom back into the city. He took it on himself to embark on a small campaign to raise awareness, to hand out some pamphlets, to even give a small verbal interview with a reporter about Columbia's efforts to once again offer what it can to the community of Manhattan.
So it is after a day having spent his time trying to be visible at the least that Bergstrom is wrapping it up. A handful of his last few pamphlets are stuck under his arm, his briefcase is in hand, and his jacket is buttoned up tight against the wind. He's walking down the street, the sidewalk that leads towards the corner.
The volunteer is missed. Head down, hands stuffed in pockets, Ellen largely ignores her surroundings. Her expression is sour like someone just stuck a lemon in her mouth. It takes very little to get her in a bad mood and — it just happens to be one of those days. Woe betide anyone who crosses her.
The boy outside of one of the remaining functioning shops (though recently closed for the evening) is almost as oblivious. He is in his own little world, perhaps, or just deeply in thought, for that glass in front of him separates him from a tempting prize. What young boy can resist something like that? Unfortunately there are few around who can still afford fun machines to play at home — if they even have parents to buy them anything.
Tempting, oh so tempting, the gaming console remains at arm's length. Fingers brush the glass again. A small mouth frowns.
Something begins to hiss as it melts.
It's one of those quirks of fate that causes the initial confrontation. If Nathan had remembered his watch and not left it at home he never would have looked for a clock along the street somewhere. He never would have looked in the window of that store and spotted the LED display of a timepiece on the Blu-ray player that sits close to the window. He would have had his own watch to look at instead of again trying to check the time, realizing once again that he didn't have his watch with him… and then he wouldn't have paused at this window right in that moment when the young man stands there and the hissing begins.
The sound draws the older man's attention. Standing there for a bit he looks sideways, looks back to the clock, looks sideways again. He blinks and then coughs with a tinge of surprise.
The hissing continues; Officer Cranky Bitch continues her walk. Eventually she, too, draws near, but she doesn't immediately take note of the dripping glass now sliding down the boy's hand to the window frame. In the span of several seconds, whatever minor ability he possesses has opened a baseball-sized hole in the pane.
He barely even registers someone behind him — instead reaching through the hole and claiming his 'prize' before one of the other kids can come along and find it. If he senses anyone in the immediate area, well, he doesn't show it, but he is now trying to stuff the console away in a pocket that is two sizes too small to accommodate the newly stolen item.
With a furrowed brow, Nathan looks again at the young man. He looks back to the window, then back to the young man. This time the cough is intentional, chased as it is by a clearing of the throat. He stands there at the side, still looking towards the store and the display of electronics, but really he's looking at the reflection of the powered shoplifter. If the sounds don't serve, then he even goes so far as to lift his voice.
"Excuse me, young man. That might not be the best course of action."
Probably not very smart to say anything. In New York even in the past it's best to keep your head down and shut your mouth. Today, it's only the uninitiated that break that tenet.
The second cough, now that he is done burning away at the glass, stops the boy dead in his tracks. Bergstrom's voice probably doesn't alleviate his sudden concern any. Slowly he turns, two narrowed eyes observing the older man. No — sizing him up. "Who cares? It's mine," he announces unapologetically, probably no older than thirteen. "I saw it. Nobody else wanted it, or else they would've bought it already," he reasons. And of course tacks onto the end, "So there."
But now, as both he and Bergstrom have spoken up, Ellen is finally taking notice of the scene. The woman, pulling her hands from her pockets, zeroes in on Bergstrom first, the boy second. Moving closer, she furrows her dark brow. She knows him. Those glasses. That manner of speaking. She remembers him. Cops are like elephants: they never forget.
Bergstrom is aware of the danger, he manifests this awareness by standing to the side and just a bit away, it's just a position enough to be able to duck into the alcove of the store's doorway… but at least doesn't give that impression. He's taking this calmly, slowly, the way he would speak to a young man as if he were holding a knife.
"Well, not that it's my place to do so, but if I may I could offer some advice." He pauses for an instant, not long enough to let the young man break in.
"If it's illegal, or legal, if someone wanted it or didn't, that's immaterial in some ways. What always matters is the cause and effect. Repercussions, what will happen if you carry along on that course of action." He tries to give a small smile, a little pained as if hoping that the young man will listen.
"I don't mind if you have the doodad. But what you are trading for it right now is possibly a more positive future, some measure of your freedom, some self-respect. In exchange for what? A momentary distraction from life's ills?" He shakes his head, then adds. "If that's an acceptable exchange for you, then by all means. But on the more practical side… do you even have any games for it?"
Not all of it registers, if the boy's confused expression is any indication. Younger people rarely think about the future. They live in the moment. "It's not a doodad!" he protests going by the context of the word if not its exact meaning. "It's a game system. I never had one!" Sure, it's not exactly his to take, but he'll continue to argue it as long as he has breath. Though something Bergstrom says causes him to think. "I — dunno," he admits through a grumble, turning his head away and hiding the console behind his back as he realizes it will not fit where he wants it to go, "I just figured I'd get a game. Maybe… maybe in there." He thumbs the direction of the glass. "I can look."
Ellen makes her approach slowly at first. She comes from behind. By now she likely figures something is up, but at her angle she hasn't seen the hole. Nor has she seen the object now hidden behind the boy's back. Bergstrom, naturally, is given more of a study as he seems to be the one doing the most talking. About what, she can't say. Not yet.
"There aren't any good ones for it," Bergstrom isn't entirely lacking in perception, he sees what registers with the young man, what perhaps resonates. He takes the more practical approach than the philosophical. "You're taking this risk, damaging the property of whomever owns this place, all just for an already defunct piece of electronica that at most plays…" He pauses as he searches for an apt title, casting his thoughts back to what some of his students talked about, or what he saw another faculty member playing. "At most plays Solitaire."
He nods once, as if sure this will get through, then he adds. "It's not too late, can probably put it back. Might be for the best." For now he still hasn't noticed the approach of Ellen, he's still standing there near the alcove to the store, hands in the pockets of his jacket.
Ellen lurks fairly well when she wants to. She hovers just on the periphery where not even the boy might notice her, un-uniformed but still a threat. The quiet footfalls come to a halt. She watches carefully, tilting her head just so — and sees the hole. Plus, Bergstrom is now audible to her ears. The words 'damaging' and 'property' reach the area where she now stands.
Bergstrom has had some effect on the boy, undoubtedly. His presence is enough to curtail any further crime, though the boy is getting visibly worried. Is he going to get into trouble for something that may turn out to be worthless? He pulls out the handheld console and eyes it, gnawing his bottom lip. He may even put it back, though he hesitates. "But, but —" he starts. "I'll never get anything else like it…"
Brilliantly, however, the cop takes this moment to cut in. "Hey, you," she calls over.
"Oh you never know," Bergstrom gives what he hopes is a friendly smile towards the young man, looking sideways at him and offering a small shrug. "Life has surprises, hard to tell how it'll turn. Future opens up before you with a million options, but then sometimes you can make decisions that can close those options. It's not really worth it for a little piece of…"
It's then that Ellen's words reach him, and Nathan turns a little to look over his shoulder then more fully at the approach of the young woman. "Ah, hello…" He seems about to say something else, but instead he says, "Ellen."
Glare, glare, glare. Ellen crosses the distance between them, fixing her cop-stare on the boy as he hastily tries to conceal the console again, anxious glances directed to Bergstrom; he's less of a threat than the frizzy-haired woman with his placating words and friendly smiles. Smiles that Ellen doesn't return as she marches herself over. "Yeah, hey," she says with a curt nod. "Bergstrom, wasn't it? Who's your little friend?" She peers, and none too nicely, at the little thief. "And you mind telling me what the hell you were doing over here? That's a nice clean hole over there." Not smashed. Not broken. But definitely 'broken into'.
There's a way of body language that people take on when confronted with a cop, a certain way of standing a little more stiffly, a bit more properly. Bergstrom displays just such a physical shift as Ellen approaches and then asks her questions. He looks over at the young rapscallion, then back towards the police officer.
"Yes, Nathan Bergstrom. A pleasure seeing you again and all." His tone becomes more professional as he answers her questions. "I just met the fellow a little bit ago, seems a touch wayward, boys will be boys, mischief, and all."
Maybe on a different day Ellen would be more accommodating. Unfortunately this is not one of those days. Her nose wrinkles. "By which you mean you caught him in the act," she summarizes in her plainspoken language. "Hey?" Her focus turns to the boy, who almost like Bergstrom is stiffening at her words, but in a defensive way. "Junior? Did you do that?" she asks as she points to the glass. She's not asking how yet, but rather if he was the one who did it.
"N-no," he begins to answer, before staring at Bergstrom (for ratting him out!) and recommitting himself to being a tough guy, peering back over his shoulder. "M-maybe. What about it?" He doesn't know she's a cop.
"I didn't actually see him do it, Officer." Which is mostly true, he saw the young man's reflection do it. Also Bergstrom deliberately changes his form of address. There's a certain line to which he won't extend of himself over, but at least giving the young man some small bit of warning doesn't cross it. "We were just talking about choices, the effects they can have on one's future. I believe he was coming around to making the right one, too."
He steps out and away from the alcove, not stepping between the two, but more to the side so he can observe in what he hopes is a suitably impartial manner. He shifts his attention towards Ellen, and for a time takes her measure. It's different seeing her with her 'business' look rather than her 'stuffing her face' look as in the diner.
She does still look like she has a lemon stuffed in her mouth, which is why she is less sympathetic under the circumstances. Though as an off duty cop, Ellen believes in helping to keep crime under wraps. She isn't just going to let this one go. Even now that she knows Bergstrom might have been talking the boy into putting whatever he stole back. She appraises them each in turn, lingering a little longer on the nervous look the boy is giving her now that he has heard the word 'Officer' tumble out of Bergstrom's mouth. If she were just some loudmouthed woman on the streets, maybe he could have intimidated her enough that she would let the matter go. Now she's a cop?
"Look, I don't care," says the 'pleasant' one in the bunch. Bergstrom gets a finger pointed his way. He's certainly staying out of her way, but she's a hand talker and incorporating him in the matter whether he wants to be or not. After all, who just talks to a thief? Was he making nice instead of trying to do something more effective? Mind you, negotiations are not her most trusted way of resolving conflicts… "Did he put the thing back yet? Hunh?"
Bergstrom's response is as much in his hands as it is in his face and then his words. He holds up his palms empty as if trying to stay an enraged Ellen with the gesture, his eyebrows lift in the most disarming way and then he says, "He was just about to, I'm afraid I was too long-winded and he politely waited for me to finish my little morality play before he enacted his proper form of contrition."
Those words are of course chased by a _look_ shot at the young man by Nathan, just in that small window of time when he realizes that Ellen's attention is off of him and on the young man. She might still pick up on it, but it's Bergstrom's attempt at subtlety.
Normally Ellen is good at picking up on things (barring mutant powers), but in this instant she chooses to gaze at the window a little more closely. Is it just her, or does that look more like the work of an expert cat burglar with a glass cutter than a one-time petty theft? There is a curl of her mouth, and then it's back to looking at Bergstrom. "Oh yeah?" she says.
Looks can be misinterpreted. Is Bergstrom helping? Giving him time to react? The boy continues to look anxious, but briefly, seeing Bergstrom's 'look', visibly relaxes. Relaxes because — he thinks he just got a sign to do something. Cops are bad. They don't listen. They'll chase you even after you get away from the scene and eventually put you in jail, unless…
… you do something to slow them down. Pulling off his jacket, the boy touches it with his hand, watching Bergstrom to make sure he sees what it is he's planning to do even before the small spark appears and the garment alights.
"Fire, fire!" he announces as he hurls it to the ground. Well, coat fire! "Run away!"
It's Bergstrom's own fault, at least trying to help out the kid and trying to think the best about people. The extent of his efforts to try and stop the young ruffian is for him to hold out a hand and to say, "Hey now, that's not a good ide…" Then his words are, of course, cut off by the hurling of the jacket and the spattering crackle as it starts to burst into flames.
Taking a step back, the erstwhile professor gets clear of the two, frowning deeply and then saying, "Look out, Ellen!" At least when it comes down to it he's more concerned about her safety than the redemption of some Oliver Twist wannabe.
If Oliver Twist had some talent with melting and burning things. The warning has her jumping back a step. As her jaw slowly drops, Ellen flicks her gaze from Bergstrom to the garment lying on the ground. A small trail of smoke begins to trickle up towards the sky from the coat, but likely not enough to attract the attention of anyone else on the block. It's a small, contained fire, and is soon being stomped out by the cop once she gets over her initial shock at the fire (because apparently not only does she stomp around like a rhinoceros, but she carries the same natural instinct to put out fire with her hooves). Thump thump! "Goddamn it! I didn't even see him pull out the lighter, did you?"
Probably because there wasn't one, not that it matters right this second. He's raced around them, and is now trying to take off up the block, though he's dropped the console on the sidewalk in a last-ditch effort to get rid of the evidence.
Taking his cue from Ellen, Bergstrom dashes forwards and proceeds to help her with stomping out the newly born fire. He doesn't even seem to mind that it's melting his shoes a little and in so doing his jeans almost catch fire. But luckily it doesn't take too much effort.
"No. No sure didn't." Nathan answers her even as his foot crumpfs down on the last little bits of smouldering fabric. He frowns distantly as he looks after the retreating form of the young man, not seeming inclined to chase after him and in part perhaps hoping she won't either. He says, "Sorry, I didn't think he'd…" He waves a hand, letting the gesture finish his sentence.
The fire is completely out. What remains is a slightly burnt and no doubt un-wearable jacket. Ellen frowns down at it, and then observes Bergstrom with almost the very same expression. She doesn't chase the boy (his little legs have taken him all the way up the block, and it is outside of her jurisdiction), covering her mouth with a hand as she coughs, slightly bent over. "No," she responds sharply, "you didn't think." Not that she isn't at fault for it. "Do me a favor," she adds, standing at full height and pointing up the street. "Don't try to play Ghandi anymore. It doesn't help." States the jaded. "Stick to teaching, alright?"
"Well, more like Hammurabi in some ways I'd say. Was trying to give him an impression on the cost of actions and consequen…" He stops as he probably catches the ensuing 'look' from Ellen. He gives a small crinkle to his nose, then looks away and off towards the direction the youth fled. He looks back and then says, "Look, no offense, Ellen…" He uses her first name purposefully to try and make it less like cop and civilian chatting and more like person and person chatting, "But I wasn't breaking any laws, and the kid couldn't have been more than ten years old. I understand you've probably seen a lot of horrible things, but don't let it bleed into…" Again he waves his hand again, letting the gesture offer her to fill in the blank with whatever she chooses.
Just like that, the situation goes from bad to worse. "Ten?" Ellen repeats. "Excuse me, but do you have kids? Do you even know how they behave? They're not all saints." She points an accusing finger at him, entirely missing the point. "He turned arsonist. How was that not horrible? Maybe if he pulled out a Barbie," leaning over again she plucks the console from the ground, "I'd be a little more 'nice', you think?" Speaking of letting things 'bleed', she's really letting the sarcasm flow.
"Now that's neither here nor there," Bergstrom says as he follows after her, "I doubt you have kids either, and I'll have you know I've been around my fair share of children so I'm not exactly what you'd call naive."
Replacing his hands in the pockets of his jacket he knits his brow in concentration, not too accustomed to conflict or confrontation and this comes fairly close to it in his book. "And you're blowing things out of proportion, he threw down a jacket onto a cement sidewalk, it's not like he was going to cause all of the state of New York to burst into flames." He can use exaggeration too.
Ellen is Queen Exaggeration in all her quick-firing, close-minded, judgmental glory. She finds something else to poke at. "He mighta," she says. "If he torched something else, or the damn thing made something else catch fire." Yeah, take that, cold, hard logic. "Anyway, who asked you? Get back to whatever the hell you were doing," she says in a tone now tinged with annoyance. Academics. Always trying to push their pacifism on everyone else. "And I mean it — watch yourself." She starts to pick her way up towards a staircase leading up to a small apartment above the store. Apparently she knows that the owner lives up there.
Well that is certainly a dismissal. Nathan takes a step back, but then a faint touch of anger tinges his tone, and it leads to him actually replying in what could be almost considered a faint glimmer of New York attitude. "No hey, good to see you too, Officer Ellen. Hey, no thanks, I'll see you around later. Hey I thought we might get a cup of coffee, maybe catch up on old times, but I see you have a terribly full itinerary of being… of being… grumpy." Alright so at the end he fails, but the sentiment is there, perhaps more comical than vitriolic. But to her credit she managed to get a rise out of him.
Wood stairs are thumped up, but Ellen pauses. He makes her turn, stare, and then tighten a hand on a rail. She might go down and argue with him more, or even try to land a punch square on his nose, but instead — seeing the pacifist in him falter, she snorts, incredulous. There is a brief silence, and then a roll of her eyes as she turns again to move back up the stairs. Over her shoulder, she observes, "Well, look at that. You can get angry too. Maybe you're not such a Ghandi. Or Hammur-whatever." Thump, thump. "Yeah, well, so long, Professor Pencilneck. Maybe we'll have coffee another time."
"Yes, well. Good bye Police Officer…" Bergstrom stands at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes unfocusing as he tries to think of something… for the life of him, anything. Finally a final word chases her up the rise, "Police Officer Pugsly?" He stops and blinks, then grimaces at his apparent failure.
