“Capitalism institutionalizes inequality,” Mel said. “We need nationalized health care, better labor practices—fuck, the restaurant industry is insane.”

“Yeah, I agree with you,” I said, “but that’s not what this movie’s about. They’re afraid of the Soviet Union and the People’s Republic of China.”

“You think their fears were justified?” Mel asked, surprised.

“Hang on,” Lisa said, pausing the movie. “It’s more complicated than what either of you are saying. They’re not afraid of the Soviet Union and China—or maybe they are, but that’s not what the fear of Communism in this film is about. It was the Cold War, right? Anticommunism was also about expanding American democracy.” She put finger quotes around democracy. “In other words, American imperial power. And if the Commies are bad, then we’re good.”

“Well, that’s a lie,” Mel said.

“It is propaganda, in a way,” Lisa said. “But Aria has a point, too. People in China and the Soviet Union totally suffered under their Communist governments, but we didn’t really know what was going on. It’s not like the internet existed back then. So we could make up shit about them—the idea that they’re all faceless masses obeying their leaders, like these emotionless pod people.” She gestured to the movie, where a crowd of pod people were chasing the lead characters down a road.

“So, it’s bad propaganda,” Steph said.

“It’s uninformed propaganda,” I said.

“Or maybe it’s art,” Lisa said, and started the movie again.

Afterward, as I was getting ready to leave, I asked Lisa, “How did you know all that stuff about Communism?”

“I took a film class about classic science-fiction movies and the Red Scare,” she said.

“Oh yeah, Steph said you were almost a film major. How come you decided not to be?”

“I didn’t really decide not to be,” Lisa said, sounding disgruntled. “I just didn’t finish college. Not worth the money.”

—

In mid-July, I got my housing assignment from MIT. In a little over a month I’d be leaving, and Steph would stay here. Maybe we’d keep in touch after I left, and she’d come visit me. I imagined us in Cambridge in the winter, walking down Mass Ave together in the snow, our breath blooming cloudlike from our mouths. She’d be cold because she was from California; I’d lend her a scarf and gloves. When we came inside, I’d brush the snow from her shoulders.