Stardate 46588.63
(Sunday, 3 August 2369, 20:28 hours, ship's time)
U.S.S. Calypso
I like New York in June, how about you?
I like a Gershwin tune, how about you?
I love a fireside when a storm is due.
I like potato chips, moonlight
Motor trips, how about you?
Their borrowed yacht was on auto-pilot. They were approximately twenty-three hours, seventeen minutes from their destination Terlina III, the planet he had inherited from his father, and Zoe was in the galley, having a snack. By mutual agreement, they were refraining from anything but clear liquids on the bridge of Captain Picard's personal vessel.
Data instructed the computer to raise the volume of the song currently playing. He had requested a mix of songs from the 'Great American Songbook,' which, he had discovered, was not a literal songbook at all, but a vast collection of American jazz and popular songs of the early twentieth century. Historical documents referred to them as both 'important' and 'influential.' His girlfriend called them 'singable.'
As to Data himself… he found that the tunes 'fit well' in his mouth and were set in a 'good place' for his voice. Of course, his voice was synthetic and if he chose he could reproduce any other voice, male, female, human or not, that he chose. But the voice that he considered to be 'his' – his baseline for speaking and singing – was well-suited to this type of music.
Ever since he had discovered music, learned he could sing, he had wished for a duet partner who shared his interest. He had found one in Zoe, first as his private student in music theory, and later, on another interstellar 'road trip,' as a fellow singer. He recalled that first trip – they had been headed to Centaurus, and she had teased him about 'waking her up for the sing-a-long.'
She had not known that sharing songs while on a journey was an experience he had long wished to have. He could have, he knew, programmed such a scenario on the holodeck, but there was something hollow about sharing it with a virtual partner. Was that irony? Data wondered. Initiate analysis of situational irony, he instructed himself, adding yet another subroutine to the many already in play.
Still musing, Data began to sing along with the recording…
I'm mad about good books, can't get my fill,
And James Durantes looks give me a thrill.
Holding hands in the movie show
When all the lights are low may not be new,
But I like it, how about you?
How things had changed since Zoe had entered his life. Even when she had been just his student, he had given her more access to his private self than was typical for him. Perhaps it was a result of her entering his sphere at the same time that he had created – and lost – his daughter. Perhaps he had merely been lonely. Or, perhaps – and this is the possibility he favors– he had sensed a kind of kinship in the young woman who resented being on the ship most people would have 'given their eye teeth' just to visit, and who treated him like any other person.
Then again, Zoe had given him access to a lot of her secret self, as well. Her friends saw her as a bubbly and vivacious rebel, and while it was true that she could be all of those things, he had learned that she found great satisfaction in literature.
He had often watched his own classmates in heated discussion about the plots of novels or whether a character was acting with or without personal agency, but he had never been part of such a discussion. Because he was an android who could absorb an entire novel in mere seconds – faster if it was by direct download – most people assumed he could not appreciate nuances of language or the delicacy of a well-crafted story.
But Zoe had no compunctions about talking with him about her reading. Admittedly, her taste was somewhat eclectic. She saw little difference in a popular novel about symbology in famous paintings or a classic novel about manners. What mattered, however, was the act of discussion, the fact that she not only shared her opinions, but listened to his and gave them real consideration.
I like Jack Benny's jokes
To a degree.
I love the common folks.
That includes me.
I like to window shop on Fifth Avenue.
Window shopping… while Data had never particularly wished to stare into store windows, he had enjoyed strolling on real streets, in Beach Haven, in San Francisco, on Winter, hand-in-hand – or, less frequently – arm-in-arm with Zoe.
Casual touching was something he had often witnessed and wished to be included in, but it was rare for anyone to put their hands on him when emphasizing a point or clap him on the back when celebrating a success. True, he could not truly feel the joy his friends and colleagues often expressed but, touch implied belonging.
He had always wished to belong.
Zoe had never been shy about touching him. He had once adjusted the attenuators in his arm to approximate tendonitis, and when that experiment had concluded he had showed her his inner workings, explained each circuit and actuator. When he had resealed his skin, she had touched the place where the seam had been, and rested her hand in his, and something indefinable had passed between them.
Data could recall with perfect clarity the look on her face, the mix of emotions he had since learned were fear that he objected to the contact, anxiousness that he could tell she was experiencing attraction, and embarrassment over being granted an intimacy she felt she had not earned.
Since then, Zoe had touched him in many ways. Hand-holding had begun almost as soon as their occasional late-night teas, and more than once, even before they were dating, she had found solace in his embrace. She was apparently as entranced with his hair – running her fingers through it at every opportunity – as he was with hers, and even their first few kisses had meant something to him that kisses shared with others had not.
I like banana splits,
Late suppers at the Ritz.
How about you?
Contact. Connection. Commitment. All three of these were intangible things he had observed other people experiencing. He had spent the majority of his life watching couples dance together, encountering laughing friends exiting the holodeck after time spent skiing or swimming or walking on a beach with a lover.
He had wished for those experiences, as well.
But now… now he was no longer on the outside looking in. Perhaps he would one day experience the full spectrum of emotion; perhaps he would not. For now, he was secure in the knowledge that he and his partner would be spending the next two weeks doing whatever they wanted.
Exploring more - any – of Terlina III was at the top of their agenda, but he knew Zoe had packed a set of the game she had brought with her from Winter, and he was looking forward to another experience to share: being challenged to a board game he had never played.
I'd love to dream of fame, maybe I'll shine.
I'd love to see your name right beside mine.
I can see we're in harmony.
Looks like we both agree
On what to do, and I like it
How about you?
Zoe's bright mezzo-soprano voice joined his on the last verse of the song. He knew she had been listening for seventy-one-point-two-five-four seconds, but she had chosen not to interrupt him. She moved into the second seat on the small ship's bridge, pausing on the way to kiss the top of his head – something their disparate heights prevented her from doing very often. "Nice song," she said. "You should have told me it was time for the sing-a-long."
"Would you care to select our next 'number?'"
"I'm good with more of this kind of music… how about you?"
Notes: Takes place after chapter thirteen ("A Change is Gonna Come") of Crush III: Sostenuto, but the blame falls on saya4hajiwho wondered if Data had a kind of human experience/relationship bucket list of things he had never experienced because he wasn't in a long-term relationship. The song "How About You" was composed by Burton Lane with lyrics by Ralph Freed. It was originally written as a duet (Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland performed it in the 1941 movie "Babes on Broadway.") The lyrics I used are a blend of Frank Sinatra's version and the Mickey/Judy duet.