Captain's Log: Well, we've finally arrived at Banality Seven. We've beamed about half the
colonists onboard the ship, and they don't look very well. One transporter chief told me that as
soon as the first group was brought onboard, they scattered and ran screaming for the holodecks,
knocking over anyone who got in their way. Unfortunately, that included a group of children
who were on their way to an art class. Dr. Crusher has been busy, to say the least. I asked her if
it's actually possible to die of boredom, and she told me of the case of Ensign NoName. While
I'm not entirely convinced, I do suddenly have a strange craving for an Arsenic Sundae with
strychnine sprinkles. End log.
"Captain, the president of the Eastern hemisphere on the planet is hailing us. He wishes to speak
to you," Worf informed him.
"Ah. Put him through." Picard stood and tugged on the bottom of his shirt. The hem ripped away
from the shirt, leaving a strip of material dangling. He sighed. "Damn. Tenth one this month."
A very boring-looking alien appeared on the viewscreen. "Captain, welcome to Banality Seven,
the most boring planet in the Monotony sector! I am President Blah, leader of the most boring
continent on the most boring planet in the most boring sector. I live in the most boring house in
the most boring city in the most boring county in the most boring state in the most boring
country on the most boring continent in the most boring hemisphere on the most boring planet in
the most boring system in the most boring sector. Welcome."
Several of the bridge crew had fallen asleep and started to snore. Picard fought off a yawn and
tried to smile. "Uh, thank you. I understand your people pride themselves on being bored?"
President Blah nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! That is why I would like to invite you and your
crew to visit the surface. There is absolutely nothing to do. You'll be bored out of your minds.
You'll have a terribly boring time!"
Picard kicked Riker, who had fallen asleep in his chair and started drooling. "Wake up, Number
One. If I have to listen to this man, then so do you," he hissed. Turning his attention back to the
viewscreen, he tugged at his shirt again, this time ripping a seam around the collar. "With all due
respect, President, that boredom is the reason we're evacuating these colonists. They were going
stir-crazy on your planet."
"I know! Isn't it great?"
"Um, if you say so. Thank you for the offer, but I think we'll just finish evacuating the colonists
and then be on our way." Picard motioned for Worf to shut off the viewscreen.
"Captain, if I may make a suggestion?"
Picard sighed. "What is it, Mr. Data?"
The android cocked his head. "Perhaps we should take advantage of President Blah's offer to
tour the planet. We are on a mission of exploration, are we not? I do not think it is fair to decline
the invitation simply because it would not be fun."
"Easy for you to say." Riker snorted. "You don't get bored."
"Captain, I'm sensing great boredom. It - - it's overwhelming! I'm so. . .bored! I. . .can't. . .take it!
Waaaaaaaah!" Counselor Troi ran from the bridge, crying and screaming about boredom.
Picard raised his eyebrows and watched her leave. He then turned to the rest of the bridge crew.
"I don't want to hear the word 'boring' again from any of you. Understand? I don't want to hear it
in any form. If you absolutely must convey that idea, find another word to use. I'm sure there are
plenty of others."
"Like what?" Riker challenged.
Data accessed his mental thesaurus. "Monotonous; tedious; listless; wearisome; dull; humdrum;
banal; trite; insipid; unexciting; dis --"
"Mr. Data!"
He blinked his yellow eyes. "Sir?"
Picard sighed. "That's enough, I'm sure."
"Aye, sir." Data paused. "Captain? What of my earlier request that we explore the planet?"
The captain groaned. He supposed it had been too much to hope the android would forget. "Fine,
fine. If anybody actually wants to go, they can. But we leave orbit exactly twenty-four hours
from now. I hope nobody has so much fun they lose track of time."
"Captain, I do not believe anyone will have fun."
Picard buried his face in his hands. "That was sarcasm, Mr. Data. Look it up."
"Sarcasm: from the classical Greek word sarkazein, meaning 'to tear flesh'. A taunting or caustic
remark, generally --"
"Mr. DATA!"
* * *
"When are you gonna let me out? Huh, huh, huh?" Wesley jumped up and down with every 'huh'.
Security Officer Bill slumped to the floor. "Shut up. Just shut up, okay? Please? For the love of
God, just shut up."
"Aw, c'mon, lemme out now, okay? I won't touch anything, I swear. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?"
Bill began thumping the back of his head against the wall. "My mother told me, she said, 'Billy,
you should become a doctor like your brother. Why do you want to be in Starfleet, anyway?' I
should have listened. Oh, god, why didn't I listen to my mommy?!"
Wesley stopped jumping and stared at the officer. "You still call her 'mommy'?"
"ARGH!!!" Bill grabbed his phaser and began firing in Wes's direction, forgetting that they were
separated by a force-field. The force-field shorted out under the blasts from the phaser, and Wes
quickly ran out of the room.
Bill stopped firing and stared at the phaser for a moment. He slowly put it to his head. "Goodbye,
cruel universe!" He took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
Damn. He'd used up all the phaser's energy firing at Wesley. Sighing, he tossed the useless
weapon across the room, then went back to thumping his head against the wall.
* * *
"Dr. Crusher?"
The doctor turned to the person who'd spoken, one of the few colonists who hadn't run screaming
toward the holodecks. She was a young human child, probably about eleven years old, one of the
youngest colonists they'd rescued.
Beverly smiled at the girl. "Yes?"
"I heard that some of your crew is going down to the planet. Is that true?"
"I believe so. Why?"
The girl opened her eyes really wide and shook her head violently back and forth. "They can't do
that! It really sucks down there. There's nothing to do. My best friend jumped off a bridge just to
have something to do. My mom said people were so desperate for something to do that she's
surprised the birthrate didn't triple."
The doctor nearly choked on her coffee. "Uh, is that so."
"Uh-huh." The girl nodded, then scrunched up her face. "What did she mean by that?"
Beverly cleared her throat. "Uh, where is your mother, anyway?"
"I dunno. I think she went to the holodeck. You're a doctor, right?"
"Yes, I am."
"Okay, so what did she mean about the birthrate tripling?"
"Uh. . . ."
* * *
After escaping from the brig, Wesley walked down the hall toward Engineering. He was hoping
to find Geordi and talk to him about a few ideas he had for making the warp engines more
efficient. Well, actually, he didn't know if his idea would make them more efficient, exactly, but
he thought he could get them to make a really cool noise every time they engaged a higher warp
setting. Then he thought he'd go to Sick Bay and try to come up with the cure to every incurable
disease. Or maybe he'd invent a new disease. Yeah, that could be fun! He'd invent the disease,
and then he could watch his mother try to invent a vaccine.
He walked into Engineering and saw the black lump that had formerly been the control panel
with the blinking red light. Shrugging, he turned toward the back of the room and spotted
another blinking button. This one was blue. Wesley grinned and watched the pattern of the blue
light. When it stopped blinking, he started pressing it in the same pattern.
"Congratulations! You have just disabled transporter functions! You will not be able to
reactivate function for two days! There are fifteen crew members currently on the planet's
surface! Have a nice day!"
Wes backed away from the panel and raised his eyebrows. "Whoooooops!" He glanced around to
make sure no one had seen him, then ran out of Engineering.
* * *
"So? Are you gonna tell me or not? You're a doctor, surely you must know." The girl tapped her
foot and glared at Dr. Crusher.
"Uh. . ." Beverly glanced around the room desperately, hoping for some kind of distraction. She
got her wish when the doors to Sick Bay slid open and Wesley came tearing in. He was out of
breath and sweating. "Wes! What are you doing here? I thought you were still in the brig."
He threw himself onto the nearest bio-bed. "Uh, yeah. Kinda long story there, Mom. Look, if any
security people come in here, could you tell them you haven't seen me?"
The girl wrinkled her nose. "Who's he?"
"I'm Wes. I'm her son. Who're you?"
"Susie. I was one of the colonists on the really sucky planet. Your mom won't tell me what
something means."
Beginning to catch his breath now, Wes sat up and looked at her. "What won't she tell you?"
"Wesley. . ." Beverly warned him.
"My mom said it's so boring on that planet and people are so desperate for something to do, she's
surprised the birthrate hasn't tripled. And your mom won't tell me what that means." Susie stuck
her tongue out at Beverly. "She's a doctor, so I know she knows it."
"Oh." Wes nodded confidently. "Well, it means. . ." A confused look came over his face. "Uh. . .
Hey, Mom, what does that mean?"
* * *
On the planet's surface, two groups of crew members had formed. The first consisted of Data,
Geordi, Riker (who hadn't wanted to come, but the captain made him), and Worf. Eleven
assorted unimportant crew members, including security officer Bill, comprised the other group.
Supposedly Starfleet wasn't a popularity contest, but the one big group had split into two as soon
as they found out they would be stuck on the surface for two days. The group of unimportant
crewmen (and crew-women) whispered to each other about what elitist bastards the senior crew
were.
Bill flopped onto the ground beside a very boring tree and glared up at his friend Sally. "You just
had to talk me into coming here, didn't you? First I have to put up with that annoying kid asking
'are we there yet?' every two seconds, now I'm stuck here for two days. And to top it off, today is
my birthday and no one remembered!"
"You're not going to start beating your head against anything again, are you?" Sally asked. "And
excuse me, okay? I thought a nice boring visit to a nice boring planet was all you needed after
dealing with that kid. So excuuuuuuuuuuuse me!"
Geordi glanced over at the group of unimportant crewmen. "Did you say you put up with a kid
who kept asking if we were there yet?"
"Uh-huh. You know him?"
"Yeah. He was doing the same thing to me in Engineering." Geordi walked over to Bill and
patted him on the shoulder. "You poor, poor man."
Bill nodded. "Thanks. Whaddaya wanna bet he's the reason we're stuck here?"
Geordi didn't have a chance to respond. A boring-looking alien walked up to the groups and
smiled. "Hello! I am the most boring tour guide on this most boring planet --"
Riker held up a hand. "How about if you cut to the chase, all right?"
The alien frowned. "I don't understand."
"Make your speech if you must, but how about if you leave the word 'boring' out, okay? Can you
try that?"
"That would be difficult, therefore interesting, therefore not boring, so no I can't."
Bill began beating his head against the tree.
The alien shrugged and resumed his introduction. "I am Dullard, the most boring tour guide from
the most boring hotel in the most boring city --"
"Wait a minute, did you say hotel?" Riker interrupted again.
Dullard was beginning to get frustrated. "Yes, the Hotel Tedium. If you'd let me finish --"
"Yeah, uh, listen. Dullard, is it? We're going to be here for a couple days, and I thought maybe
you could show us to this hotel." Riker glanced around the group and received nods of
agreement.
"Oh, fine. Right this way." Dullard sighed. "On our way to the hotel, we'll pass several boring
tourist attractions. On your left, there's the dried-up fishing hole. It used to be filled to the brim
with fish, but the fish were too bored to reproduce and soon died. On your right is a brick. It is
rumored to have been the pet of my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather,
named simply Bore. Directly in front of us, you can see the Hotel Tedium. It was founded a
hundred years ago by Yadda Yadda, so not only is it the most boring hotel, it is also the oldest. It
boasts an empty swimming pool, a game room with one ping-pong table and no ping-pong ball, a
mini-bar filled with nothing but Spam, and a full room-service menu with many items on it,
including bread and water. The Hotel Tedium is the most boring hotel on the most boring street
in the most boring city in the most boring county in the most boring --"
* * *
"C'mon, Mom, what does it mean?"
"Wesley Crusher, if you don't know that by now, I'm not telling you."
"Well what about me?" Susie demanded.
Beverly rolled her eyes. "Can we please change the subject? Wes, why is security after you this
time?"
"Uhhh. . ." Wes shrugged.
"Iplayedwithanotherprettyblinkinglightandstrandedfifteencrewmembersonthatreallyreallyboringplanetforthenexttwodays."
"What was that, young man?"
"He said he played with another pretty blinking light and stranded fifteen crew members on that
really, really boring planet for the next two days," Susie translated. She glared at Wes. "What did
you do that for? They'll go crazy down there."
"Hey, I didn't mean to! I didn't know what that button did. It's not my fault." Wes pouted.
Susie laughed. "Hey, Dr. Crusher?"
Beverly shook her head at her son and turned to Susie. "What?" she asked tiredly.
"Can Wesley show me around the ship? I've never been on a great big ship like this before."
She sighed. "Oh, I don't see why not. Just don't touch any more buttons, do you hear me?"
"Okay. And Mom?"
"What is it?"
"This sucks. When are we leaving?"
* * *
First Officer's Log, Stardate 47474.10: We spent the night in the Hotel Tedium last night. This
place lives up to its name. There is an old television set in each room, but there is only one
channel, and it shows only one thing over and over. That one thing, if you can believe it, is an
infomercial for the Potty Putter. Our breakfast was oatmeal. At least, I think it was oatmeal; it's
kind of hard to tell. To make matters worse, we all had to pick a roommate and share rooms. I
said, but I'm the senior officer, I should get a room to myself! There are fifteen of us, so
obviously someone gets a room by himself. But then they told me, no, Security Officer Bill, the
freak that was beating his head against the tree, he gets a room with two roommates because he
shouldn't be left alone for even a second. So, I had to share a room with Worf, and he snores like
a Lunatian snoring beast!
"I do not snore, Commander."
"How do you know?"
"Snoring is dishonorable."
"So what? Do you need to go commit ritual suicide now?"
Worf growled. "You left dirty underwear on my pillow and wet towels on the bathroom floor."
"Hey!" Riker glared at him. "I'm still your commanding officer, and you will show me some
respect!"
"Sorry. You left dirty underwear on my pillow and wet towels on the bathroom floor, sir."
Riker nodded. "That's better."
"It is not better!" Worf shouted. "It is dirty underwear! On my pillow! It is dishonorable! I must
burn the pillow!"
"Jeez, calm down, will ya? They're not that dirty. I only had them on for a few hours. Besides, I
didn't think Klingons needed pillows. Getting a little soft, are ya?"
Worf ripped the pillow off the bed and threw it to the floor, Riker's underwear falling to the floor
beside it. He whipped out his phaser and fired on the pillow and the underwear, vaporizing them
both.
Riker watched and frowned. "Damn. That was the only pair I brought with me."
"You mean. . .?"
"Yep." He grinned. "I'm goin' commando, baby!"
Worf shuddered. "I did not need to know that, sir."
* * *
Geordi rolled over and stared at Data, who was sitting on the room's other bed. The android had
been sitting up watching the tv all night. The same commercial for the Potty Putter, over and
over. He groaned, remembering his night trapped in the captain's bathroom playing with the
Putter. "Data, what are you watching that for? That thing is possibly the stupidest invention
known to man."
"I do not know, Geordi. There is something fascinating about this Potty Putter." Data spoke
without taking his eyes off of the television.
"Yeah. Fascinating. It's fascinating that somebody actually invented that thing. I have to wonder
what the inventor was thinking." Getting no response, Geordi shook his head and stood up. "This
is too much," he muttered, and reached for his phaser. "Look out, Data."
Geordi took aim and fired at the tv. The blast made the screen implode, and black smoke poured
from the set. He then picked the television up and walked to the window. "Data, open the
window for me, will you?" The android did so, and Geordi tossed the tv out, watching it fall four
stories to the ground below and smash itself to pieces on the sidewalk. "That's better."
"Geordi? Would it not have been sufficient to simply turn off the television's power?"
"Sure, but this made me feel a hell of a lot better."
"Throwing an electronic device out of the window made you feel better?"
"Yes. Definitely. I feel great now."
Data shrugged. He gazed around the room, spotting the telephone. Taking out his own phaser, he
shot the phone, then tossed it through the window. "I do not notice any perceptible change in my
emotions."
"Uh. . ." Geordi tried not to laugh. "I don't think you really get it. . . ."
* * *
"And this is the bridge," Wesley whispered, standing just inside the turbolift. "We're not really
allowed to be here, so --"
"Cool, the bridge!" Susie exclaimed. Slipping under Wes's arm, she ran out of the turbolift and
onto the bridge. "Whoa, what the heck happened to these chairs?"
Picard stared down at the girl in shock. "What are you doing here? Who are you? Children are
not allowed on the bridge!"
"Hi, I'm Susie. I'm one of the colonists you rescued from the sucky boring planet. Wesley was
showing me around the ship last night, but we didn't get up here until just now. He - -" she turned
toward Wes and discovered he was gone. "Hey! No fair, he's supposed to be showing me
around!"
"Are you telling me you've been running around loose on the ship since last night? Where are
your parents?"
She shrugged. "I dunno. I guess they're still on the holodeck. Hey, Mr. Captain-person, what
happened to those chairs?" She pointed to the two mangled chairs.
Picard sighed. "My first officer had a little temper-tantrum."
"Really?" Susie's eyes widened. "Did he scream and say bad words? My dad sometimes kicks our
replicator and yells words that my mom says I'm not old enough to know the meanings of."
"Uh, that's. . .very interesting, Susie. Why don't you," Picard pointed at an unimportant
helmsman, "help Susie find her parents, okay?"
The helmsman (who felt pretty darn useless, considering that they weren't going anywhere)
nodded and held his hand out to Susie.
"Just a minute," she informed him. "Hey, Mr. Captain?"
Picard ran his hand over his face. "What is it, Susie?"
"I have a question for you that Dr. Crusher wouldn't answer. . ."
* * *
"Okay, Data. Now, see the mini-bar?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Isn't there anything about it that annoys you?"
Data cocked his head and concentrated on the mini-bar. He finally gave up and shook his head.
"No, Geordi, there is not."
Geordi sighed. "You do have your emotion chip turned on, don't you?"
"Yes, Geordi."
He walked over to the mini-bar and ran his hands over the glass. "Pay attention, Data. Really
look at it. It's filled with nothing but Spam, a substance that was outlawed when people found
out what it was made from. And look! They're charging two hundred dollars a can! Two
hundred, Data. It's robbery. Surely you must take offence to this!"
Gazing at the mini-bar, Data slowly began to nod. "I believe you are correct, Geordi. I feel. . ."
he paused, ". . .angry. Yes, I am angry at the mini-bar!"
Geordi grinned. "And what do you want to do?"
"I want to destroy the mini-bar!"
Data and Geordi both began firing at the mini-bar. When their phasers ran out of energy, they
stood up and took turns kicking it. Data began picking up the cans of Spam and chucking them
out the window with perfect accuracy. When there was nothing of the mini-bar left to destroy,
Geordi looked at his friend.
"How do you feel now, Data?"
"I feel. . .pleased."
"Yep. The mini-bar got what it deserved. Now, is there anything about the beds that annoy you? I
thought mine was kind of lumpy. . ."
* * *
"You left fur in the shower!"
"No, that is your 'fur', Commander. Perhaps you're going bald."
Riker glared at Worf. "I don't ever want to hear that word from you again."
"What word would that be? Bald? Bald, bald, bald." The look in Worf's eyes dared the
commander to make something of it.
"I'm warning you, Worf. . ."
"Bald, bald, bald."
"Are all Klingons this immature, or is it just you?"
Worf frowned. "Immaturity is --"
"Oh, let me guess. Dishonorable?"
"Well, yes. But I think certain exceptions can be made. Especially when --" he stopped,
interrupted by the crashing noises coming from the next room.
Riker jumped up and ran to the window. "Uh, there's a tv, mini-bar, and now a bed on the
sidewalk below. Who is in that room?"
"Lieutenant Commander LaForge and Lieutenant Commander Data."
"Are you sure? Why would they be throwing furniture out the window?"
Worf shrugged. "The bed was a bit lumpy."
* * *
Captain's Log, Stardate 47474.11: Only four hours until the transporters come back online. I
managed to avoid little Susie's question about the tripling birthrate by telling her to ask her
mother. I've found that works for just about everything. Number One reported in, and he said
everything is fine on the planet's surface. Boring, but fine. However, I could hear Mr. Worf in the
background saying something about dirty socks on his pillow, and I could swear I heard Mr.
Data's voice yelling 'Geronimo!' just before a loud crashing noise. Surely not. Maybe I need to
have my ears checked. Anyway, security still hasn't been able to locate Wesley Crusher, or
Susie's parents. She keeps saying her parents are on the holodeck, but I'm beginning to wonder if
they're actually hiding from her. As for the young Mr. Crusher, I'm certain Beverly is hiding him.
It will be dealt with. Oh, I almost forgot, Counselor Troi had to be sedated. She kept screaming
and crying about overwhelming boredom. She should be fine once we leave orbit. Which,
barring any more of Wesley's stunts, should be in about four hours. End log.
* * *
Counselor's Log: Oh, the boredom! I can't stand it! It's horrible! I'm bored! I'm so very, very,
very bored! I simply can't go on! I --
"Deanna, what are you doing? Get back in that bio-bed! Do you need another sedative?"
"YES! Please, Doctor, I can't stand the boredom! A sedative, yes! That's exactly what I need! Ha,
ha, ha! Sedate me, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!"
Counselor's Log, continued: Ah, yes, sedation. Blissful, floating, seda - - zzz. . .
* * *
"Hey, Mom?"
Beverly placed the hypo-spray on a table and turned toward the curtain her son was hiding
behind. "Yes, Wesley?"
"This place sucks. When are we leaving?"
"Yeah, when are we leaving?" Susie piped up.
"In about two hours. We would have been able to leave two days ago if somebody hadn't taken
the transporters offline."
"Yeah, stupid." Susie stuck her tongue out at Wes.
"Hey, it was an accident, okay? Sorry!" Wes rolled his eyes. "You'd think no one else on this ship
ever had an accident."
"No, it's just that you seem to have more of them than anyone else. And I don't know how long I
can keep you hidden from Jean-Luc."
Susie scrunched up her nose. "Who's Jean-Luc?"
"The captain."
"Oh." Her eyes lit up. "Hey, he didn't know what my mom meant about the birthrate tripling. I
don't think he's a very smart captain."
"When did you meet the captain?" Beverly asked in surprise.
"Uh. . ." Wes looked sheepish. "She kinda ran past me onto the bridge yesterday. . ."
"What! You're supposed to stay away from the bridge, you know that!"
"Hey, Dr. Crusher?"
"Yes, Susie?" She sighed.
"When are we gonna leave?"
"Yeah, Mom, when are we gonna leave?"
* * *
Captain's Log: We're finally leaving! The transporters are back online, the crew are all
accounted for and onboard the ship, and everything is back to normal. We finally located little
Susie's parents on holodeck three, but the child prefers to stay in Sick Bay with the doctor and,
I'm sure, Wesley. Oh, well, I guess as long as Wes is with his mother, he isn't ejecting the warp
core, or programming the ship to self-destruct, or something. Security Officer Bill has, sadly,
suffered from a nervous breakdown. He is also in Sick Bay, being treated by the doctor. I have to
wonder what happened on the planet's surface. Everyone claims 'nothing', but Number One and
Mr. Worf don't appear to be speaking to each other, and I received an outlandish bill from the
hotel, claiming tens of thousands of dollars' worth of damage done to the room Mr. Data and
Commander LaForge were staying in.
"That's, uh. . .completely untrue, Captain." Geordi shook his head at Data, indicating that he
should remain silent. "They must have us mixed up with someone else."
Picard frowned. "What are you talking about? I was just over here inspecting this bulkhead." He
ran his hand over the wall. "Yes, I think this one's okay."
Geordi rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, sir."
"I saw that!"
"Saw what?"
"You rolled your eyes at me! I could have you court-martialed for that!"
Riker snorted. "Oh, boy, here we go again. . ."
* * *
"When are we leaving? When are we leaving? When are we leaving?" Wes and Susie shouted,
hopping up and down.
Beverly clutched at her hair. "I told you! We've already left! We're going home now, okay?!"
"Oh." Wes and Susie looked at each other for a moment.
"Are we there yet?"
"Yeah, are we there yet?"
"ARGH!" Beverly screamed.
Security Officer Bill rolled over in his bio-bed and pulled his pillow over his head. "Oh, god,
noooooooooo!" he moaned. "Now there's two of them!"
**************
THE END
**************
2001 by Jamie August
So? Comments, please!