TWW FIC: Lemming Syndrome
Title: Lemming Syndrome
Author: shutterbug_12
Characters: Sam & Josh
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Only borrowing. No infringement intended.
Summary: Sam conducts a lighthearted experiment and proves a point to Josh.
Author's Note: Post-series (Santos era). Written for firstbreaths at ww_secretsanta. Feedback and concrit is love.
"Did you know that there’s a condition called Lemming Syndrome?" Sam asked, tossing his empty take-out box into the trash.
Without lifting his eyes from his lunch, Josh attacked his baked potato with his fork as he answered, "I think some of the new Congressional Democrats have that condition. I can’t believe that Cooley flipped--"
"I read about it," Sam continued, purposefully interrupting Josh’s rant (he knew the rest, anyway). "There’s--well, I don’t know if it’s actually real, but there’s a pattern of behavior referred to as Lemming Syndrome. And do you know where you can see it firsthand?"
"You mean other than Congress, right?"
"The street," Sam said. "Any crowded street corner."
"Sam?" Josh asked, his mouth half-full of potato and his brow furrowed.
"Yeah?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Lemming Syndrome." Sam leaned forward in his chair, his forearms stretched across the table. "Say you’re at a street corner."
"I'm at a street corner."
"Imagine you’re at a street corner."
Josh’s mouth twitched with a grin. "Okay."
"Also at this street corner is a handful of other people waiting to cross the street."
"Yeah."
"And if you start to walk, nine out of ten of those people would automatically follow you. No looking both ways. No checking for traffic," Sam said, entirely serious.
Josh set down his fork and pushed the remnants of his lunch to the middle of the table. "There’s no way nine out of ten people are that stupid," he said. "And this is coming from someone who doesn’t have a whole lot of faith in the general population to begin with."
"It’s true."
"It can’t be."
"I bet you’d do it." Sam stood up, pointing casually at Josh as he drifted toward the door. "I bet you’re a Lemming."
Josh reached for his coffee mug and shook his head, a smile playing on his mouth. "Sam, believe me when I tell you that, of all the things in the world that I am, a Lemming isn’t one of them."
"I think you’re wrong about that." Sam caught Josh’s eye-roll as he pushed his chair away from the table to return to his desk. "Leaving at seven tonight?"
Josh flopped into his desk chair. "Uh, yeah. Donna's got a night planned, and the First Family’s leaving for Andrew’s around six. Gives me an hour to tie up a few loose ends."
"Mind if I walk with you?"
"Home? Sure, but not all the way home. I like you, Sam, but I don’t like you, you know?"
"Yeah, okay," Sam said, smirking as he opened the door. "Northwest gate. Seven o’clock."
~~~
At 7:12, Sam peered up 17th Street, then down, waiting for the staggered wall of headlights to pass the crosswalk.
Behind him, Josh’s voice rose. "Yeah? Well, maybe if he had half a brain, he might be able to understand how foreign aid might strengthen the image of American--God, didn’t we do this five years ago?"
A cab trailed behind the pack of traffic, a block away, and Sam fought a grin as he stepped forward.
Josh immediately darted into his peripheral vision, then passed him off, striding toward the opposite corner with his phone still pressed to his ear. Sam performed some fast math and hurried to catch Josh by the elbow in the middle of the street.
"What the hell?" Josh shouted as the cab cruised past them, close enough to touch. "Don’t you look where you’re going before you--" It took a moment, but Sam saw the recognition dawn over Josh’s face. "No."
"See," Sam said, pulling Josh across the street. "You’re a Lemming."
"You almost let me get hit by a car!"
Reaching the corner, Sam released Josh’s arm and faced him. "I’d never let you get hit by a car. Come on, Josh."
"Okay, fine. Fine," Josh said with a jerky wave of his hand. "But I'm not--"
"Oh, you are," Sam said, his words layered with a laugh as he turned and started north. "You’re one of the nine out of ten."
"Look, I was distracted. I was--no, you know what that was?"
"A point well proven?"
"No," Josh said, shuffling alongside him. "No, it wasn't a point well proven. It was me trusting you to--"
"Be the head Lemming?"
"Okay. You know what? Fine. Think what you want, Sam. But I know that this doesn’t prove anything. It proves nothing."
Sam met Josh’s glower with a smile. "I’m telling Donna that you’re one of the Lemming people."
"I am not! Sam, if you call her, I’ll--I’ll fire you. Sam."
"Relax," Sam said, dismissing Josh’s threats--and whines, and protests. Keeping the phone out of Josh’s reach, he dialed Donna’s number. "I have a feeling she already knows."
Author: shutterbug_12
Characters: Sam & Josh
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Only borrowing. No infringement intended.
Summary: Sam conducts a lighthearted experiment and proves a point to Josh.
Author's Note: Post-series (Santos era). Written for firstbreaths at ww_secretsanta. Feedback and concrit is love.
"Did you know that there’s a condition called Lemming Syndrome?" Sam asked, tossing his empty take-out box into the trash.
Without lifting his eyes from his lunch, Josh attacked his baked potato with his fork as he answered, "I think some of the new Congressional Democrats have that condition. I can’t believe that Cooley flipped--"
"I read about it," Sam continued, purposefully interrupting Josh’s rant (he knew the rest, anyway). "There’s--well, I don’t know if it’s actually real, but there’s a pattern of behavior referred to as Lemming Syndrome. And do you know where you can see it firsthand?"
"You mean other than Congress, right?"
"The street," Sam said. "Any crowded street corner."
"Sam?" Josh asked, his mouth half-full of potato and his brow furrowed.
"Yeah?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Lemming Syndrome." Sam leaned forward in his chair, his forearms stretched across the table. "Say you’re at a street corner."
"I'm at a street corner."
"Imagine you’re at a street corner."
Josh’s mouth twitched with a grin. "Okay."
"Also at this street corner is a handful of other people waiting to cross the street."
"Yeah."
"And if you start to walk, nine out of ten of those people would automatically follow you. No looking both ways. No checking for traffic," Sam said, entirely serious.
Josh set down his fork and pushed the remnants of his lunch to the middle of the table. "There’s no way nine out of ten people are that stupid," he said. "And this is coming from someone who doesn’t have a whole lot of faith in the general population to begin with."
"It’s true."
"It can’t be."
"I bet you’d do it." Sam stood up, pointing casually at Josh as he drifted toward the door. "I bet you’re a Lemming."
Josh reached for his coffee mug and shook his head, a smile playing on his mouth. "Sam, believe me when I tell you that, of all the things in the world that I am, a Lemming isn’t one of them."
"I think you’re wrong about that." Sam caught Josh’s eye-roll as he pushed his chair away from the table to return to his desk. "Leaving at seven tonight?"
Josh flopped into his desk chair. "Uh, yeah. Donna's got a night planned, and the First Family’s leaving for Andrew’s around six. Gives me an hour to tie up a few loose ends."
"Mind if I walk with you?"
"Home? Sure, but not all the way home. I like you, Sam, but I don’t like you, you know?"
"Yeah, okay," Sam said, smirking as he opened the door. "Northwest gate. Seven o’clock."
~~~
At 7:12, Sam peered up 17th Street, then down, waiting for the staggered wall of headlights to pass the crosswalk.
Behind him, Josh’s voice rose. "Yeah? Well, maybe if he had half a brain, he might be able to understand how foreign aid might strengthen the image of American--God, didn’t we do this five years ago?"
A cab trailed behind the pack of traffic, a block away, and Sam fought a grin as he stepped forward.
Josh immediately darted into his peripheral vision, then passed him off, striding toward the opposite corner with his phone still pressed to his ear. Sam performed some fast math and hurried to catch Josh by the elbow in the middle of the street.
"What the hell?" Josh shouted as the cab cruised past them, close enough to touch. "Don’t you look where you’re going before you--" It took a moment, but Sam saw the recognition dawn over Josh’s face. "No."
"See," Sam said, pulling Josh across the street. "You’re a Lemming."
"You almost let me get hit by a car!"
Reaching the corner, Sam released Josh’s arm and faced him. "I’d never let you get hit by a car. Come on, Josh."
"Okay, fine. Fine," Josh said with a jerky wave of his hand. "But I'm not--"
"Oh, you are," Sam said, his words layered with a laugh as he turned and started north. "You’re one of the nine out of ten."
"Look, I was distracted. I was--no, you know what that was?"
"A point well proven?"
"No," Josh said, shuffling alongside him. "No, it wasn't a point well proven. It was me trusting you to--"
"Be the head Lemming?"
"Okay. You know what? Fine. Think what you want, Sam. But I know that this doesn’t prove anything. It proves nothing."
Sam met Josh’s glower with a smile. "I’m telling Donna that you’re one of the Lemming people."
"I am not! Sam, if you call her, I’ll--I’ll fire you. Sam."
"Relax," Sam said, dismissing Josh’s threats--and whines, and protests. Keeping the phone out of Josh’s reach, he dialed Donna’s number. "I have a feeling she already knows."