Note: As a historical note, this was written right after Princess Diana died.
Privacy Concerns
by EstiRose
August 31, 1997
Greer woke up when she rolled over and found the other half of the bed empty. Opening her eyes, she found that it was only seven-thirty in the morning. She sat up, hoping that Michael was only off to the bathroom and not kidnapped. For once, she wished she and her husband were telepathic so that she could find out if he was okay without alerting any possible intruders. She hadn’t sensed any immortals, but that didn’t mean anything. The television was on, she could hear that. She caught something about Princess Diana, but that was it.
Michael came through the door with a mug of coffee. Greer’s stomach growled at the scent. He didn’t look otherwise very awake. She wondered what was up. “Michael, what’s going on?”
“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Michael said. “I’m going to church. Mrs. MacDonald from downstairs is going to drive me.”
Greer looked at her husband. He seemed pale and his hands were shaking a bit. Something had to have happened for him to be up and in his Sunday best. It was also the one Sunday a month that they didn’t go to church, due to her having to work at eleven. “What happened?” she asked gently.
“Princess Diana is dead,” Michael replied after a moment. “It was just on the news. She was killed early this morning when her driver crashed into a wall trying to get away from those photographers.”
“Oh,my…” Greer replied, but was unable to finish her sentence as Michael continued.
“I’m told that they’re holding some of those vultures. Good. They deserve anything thrown at them.”
Greer was startled by the venom in her husband’s voice. “Michael, this isn’t like you,” she said.
“You never met her, did you?” Michael asked. “I did. She was probably the best woman I ever met. Excluding you. Those bastards chased her around. No wonder her car crashed.”
“You never told me about meeting her,” Greer said softly. She thought it best to draw her husband out for a bit. Wouldn’t do him any good to be brought up on assault charges.
Michael blinked. “I never did? I guess I didn’t. A couple of years back, I was doing a bit of field work, volunteering at an AIDS charity. Diana visited us as part of her interest in our kind of charity. She made a point of saying hello to all the volunteers. You don’t know what kind of effect that has on a person. It’s not every day that you get a celebrity that actually cares. It meant a lot to me and the others. We actually worked more so that she’d be proud of us. That was a very painful assignment to walk away from.”
“I could see why,” Greer said.
“I just can’t understand why they’d follow her around, record every love affair, every person she meets. She has her right to privacy.”
Greer started laughing. Michael glared at her.
“What are you laughing at? It’s a tragedy!”
“It’s not anything about Diana, not really, it’s just that what you said about following people around and right to privacy. Michael, what do you think we did for years of our lives? Me especially? We followed people around, we recorded their love affairs, and so on. It never seemed to bother you.”
Michael blinked. “You’re right,” he said, almost reluctantly. “But it’s not the same. We aren’t intrusive.”
“You mean that we tried* not to be intrusive,” Greer argued. “No, we didn’t crowd around, and we tried not to get noticed. But does it really matter how unobtrusive we were?”
“We weren’t trying for sensational pictures or headlines,” Michael argued back. “We didn’t have fast scooters that could do high speeds, or camera lenses the length of an arm.”
“I know,” Greer replied, getting up to lean against the wall by her husband. “But maybe it feels the same way. How do you think I feel? I know that I’m being followed and sometimes I even see my Watcher. I’ve even seen him with a camera once or twice. How does that make me feel?”
“I guess you have a point,” Michael said reluctantly. “But if you took off, he wouldn’t jump on a motorscooter and chase after you with a camera.”
“No, he wouldn’t. But can’t you see that the idea is the same? That for some reason, because we’re deemed special, that we have no privacy anymore? Even if the Watchers are discreet, we’re still there. Is that right to record greater than my right to not have my life recorded? That’s the problem.”
Michael was quiet for a few moments. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never been really on that end.”
“I can feel a sympathy for her, just by what I’ve been through. I’ve been on both ends, Michael, and I can safely say that I don’t like this end. I can’t imagine she liked it much, either.”
There was a knock on the door. “That would be Mrs. MacDonald,” Michael said.
Greer felt almost regretful that their conversation was over. “See if you can delay her a moment or two.”
“Why?” Michael asked.
“I need to go, too,” Greer said. “I need to pray for her.”
-End
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