Chapter 2: Intuition
The computer finally finishes its calculations, and Spock looks at the readout with a mix of admiration (acceptable), frustration (not acceptable; must be examined during meditation) and pride in his student (acceptable – within reasonable limits). Behind him the bridge crew waits with varying levels of anticipation, from the calm certainty of the captain to the nervous fidgeting of Chekov. As he turns towards the others, Spock notes that the ensign's rate of breath is slightly elevated.
"The computer has finished its regression model of all the trajectory variables, Sir."
"And did Mr. Chekov lead us on a wild goose chase?"
"No Sir, he did not." Chekov grins broadly and Sulu claps him on the shoulder. "With a few minor course adjustments, we are indeed right on the trail of the alleged smuggler."
The humans smile, their easy rapport travelling with lightning speed across the bridge, amplifying and strengthening their collective identity. Or so Spock assumes – while the captain praises his cautious attempts to learn, the half-Vulcan is still vary of the pitfalls of emotional group-think and its threat to individual objectivity.
"Huh. So in other words, Chekov was right and you were wrong, Spock," the doctor drawls, as usual expending energy in pointing out obvious matters. "If we'd followed your lead, we'd have lost him in that nebula."
Spock wonders, not for the first time, how McCoy manages – admittedly with a narrow margin – to stay on top of the paper work and research reports in Medical, given how much time he spends lounging around on the bridge. However, the human is not wrong.
"Indeed, Doctor. If we had followed my initial recommendation, we would have used a logical, approach, and waited for confirmation from the computer. I do not wish to detract from Mr. Chekov's admirable skills as a navigator – they have been clearly proven, and not just in this case. Yet I cannot simply rely on human hunches in my own recommendations."
The young human has stopped smiling. Spock wonders if his carefully chosen words – picked to try to avoid a negative effect on morale – were insufficient. He even added that admirable: an unnecessary word, very inappropriate according to his upbringing. But he has learnt that, with humans, sometimes the most unnecessary words are the most necessary.
"So maybe you'd better try to pick up some intuition from us poor humans?" The doctor asks.
"Unlikely, Doctor. However, I do not need to possess a skill in order to appreciate it in my colleagues."
He turns towards the helm. "Mr. Chekov, now that we know that we are on the right path, could you elucidate your thinking process?"
The Russian fidgets. "I don't know Mr. Spock. I'd been staring at his warp trail for hours while we were chasing him, and he… seemed… to like to pretend to hide?" The confidence and smiles are gone now, and the young man's head droops slightly. "I guess… it was not very scientific. Maybe just lucky."
"Mr. Spock does not believe in luck, Mr. Chekov," the captain says, grinning.
"Indeed. I believe that your skills as a navigator and a mathematician create synergy effects that lead you to make better decisions, Mr. Chekov. You should treasure that ability."
Now Chekov smiles again, a bit shyly, and turns back towards the helm.
Spock walks down to stand next to the command chair.
"In this case, my biology does work against me, Captain. My mind's structure does not lead itself to intuition."
The captain frowns, but McCoy nods.
"Well, in a sense he's right Jim. Hey, Chekov, what's your score on the Linder-Paul intuition test?"
The young Russian blushes, but then mumbles. "713, Doctor."
At his side, Sulu whistles. "713! I have 690. I was on top of my class – and you have more than 15 points on me!"
The Vulcan Science Academy questions the validity of the Linder-Paul test. It uses process-overloading visual, tactile, olfactory and auditory stimuli to test the mind's ability to employ Bayesian Fellen-Markov chains in odd-one-out paradigms. Or, as the lieutenant who had administered the test to Spock at the Academy had put it: "how willing are you to take risky chances in your decisions – and how likely is it that those chances actually pay off?"
"And what's your score, Spock?" The doctor persists.
"450, Doctor."
This makes the doctor pause for a minute, considering him. "That's actually pretty high."
"The average is somewhere around 500?" Jim asks.
"The average for humans, yes. Typically Vulcans are around 300, if you can get them to take the test at all – they don't like it." McCoy leans on the railing, his voice slipping into lecture mode. "As near as we can tell, Vulcans compute a far higher percentage of the sights, sounds, smells and, well, general info, that they get. Almost every scrap of data – at least relative to humans. Humans can't do that, so we cheat."
"Our minds take a multitude of guesses every nanosecond. So, for example: when our gaze travels from point A to point B," McCoy holds up his fingers as an illustration, "We don't actually register any visual information about the space in between A and B in our brain – instead we make a guess, using memory and really advanced estimation techniques, to create a fake memory of what's in between the two points. Vulcans do this too, all humanoids do, but not to the same extent as humans. We're outliers compared to most other Federation species. Intuition geniuses."
"Can't be easy, Spock, having to constantly adapt to a bunch of geniuses," Jim says, smiling. Spock recognizes the tone and the smile with a remarkable ease that he only otherwise associates with his near instinctual reading of his mother. His captain is teasing him. And he is expecting a response.
"Indeed," he replies, in a carefully chosen, very dry tone, and is gratified when the expected response comes from the humans – laughter. Spock mentally labels it as belonging to the subtype "affectionate", and files the stimulus and response pairing away for future reference.
It's only when the doctor has left and the crew is deeply focused on rigging the ship for silent running in their hunt for the smuggler, when Spock quietly turns to his friend.
"May I ask, Captain, what your score on the Linder-Paul test was at the Academy?"
Jim's lips twitch.
"Never took it." He signs the final fuel report with a flourish and hands it over to the patiently waiting yeoman. "I happen to think the Vulcan Science Academy is right. You can't measure intuition, not like that. It'll reveal itself out here in the black, as the brain is pitted against obstacle after obstacle. And it's certainly not a static ability – sure, our brain structures pose limits on us, but in the end, intuition is really about courage and self-confidence. No matter what your mind tells you is the right answer, the true skill is daring to believe in it."
Spock does not, of course, say: that's a very easy thing to say when you're a natural at it.
-o0o-
Author's note:
Thanks for the reviews Inna, Starsmith, Eclectikon, Texas Cowgirl and Eva Meunier! And Texas Cowgirl: I agree, I think Spock's take on empathy would be very interesting... you'll see more of that in the last chapter *tease tease*.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter - please consider leaving a comment below. It's also totally fine to disagree with me strongly about what would constitute human superpowers, and suggest new ones! :)
