Disclaimer: For my disclaimer, please refer to the first chapter.
Basically: I don't own the rights to any of this stuff.
"So, Data, what seems to be so urgent that you had to see me * now *?" Counselor Troi settled herself in her chair and picked up a mug full of steaming hot liquid.
"Counselor, it is nothing urgent, but…I am curious about this human state called 'depression.' I wish to learn more about it. I observed Lieutenant Barclay in this state this afternoon, but…I am puzzled. How can humans consider this behavior 'normal'?"
"Well, Data, that's a good question, and I'm glad you asked. Humans-" she paused. "Humans, and many humanoid creatures might go through a 'cycle' during a certain period of time. For instance, a month, six months, a year, and so on. During this 'cycle,' their moods, or…or the way they see the world may change. Lieutenant Barclay is most likely just going through * his * cycle of moods and has reached the point where he is depressed. It's really quite natural."
Data remained quiet during all of this, thinking. "If humans go through this 'cycle,' and I am modeled after humans, could it be possible that * I * have a 'cycle?'"
"Of course, but I hardly think that your cycle would be quite as dramatic as the ones that humans go through! In fact, I think it would be quite subtle. So," she put down her mug "does this answer your question?"
"Yes, counselor. Thank you. However, this matter requires further study. I think I will do that now." He exited without another word. Troi sat for a moment, considering the entire thing, anticipated Data's next move in his research, then went to send a message to Reginald Barclay.
Geordi peered over the heads of the people chatting in Ten-forward. The computer said he was here, but-ah! There! Oh, he was looking out the window, not a good sign. Geordi slowly made his way over to Reggie Barclay, and sat down beside him.
"Oh, Reg," he sighed.
Barclay was drooped over completely, the picture of emotional upset: shoulders slumped, with his forehead and hands propped against the window of Ten-forward, staring out into space.
"It's so empty, isn't it, sir?" he asked slowly, sensing the chief's presence.
"What, space?" Geordi responded quickly. "No, I don't think so, really. I mean, it * is * full of stars, and planets, and ships, and even though it's devoid of air I think it's really quite full-"
"No," Reg said dully. "Life." One of his hands slipped down the 'glass,' fell to the floor, then reached up to rub his nose. Then it resumed its position on the window.
Geordi was eager to cheer up this officer, but he didn't really think he was that good at this sort of thing. "Aw, cheer up, Reg. I'm sure that things could always be worse."
Reg sighed. Guinan took this opportunity to serve drinks (not ordered, but the right ones, as usual), placing them quietly on the table behind the two officers. Geordi picked up his drink and took a sip.
"Come on, Reg. Tell me. What's got you down?"
Tapping a final digit into the console, Data called to the computer,
"Computer, run program Data gamma."
He stepped inside and looked around. There really wasn't much to see. He walked to the chair that sat in the middle of the dark room and sat down. "Computer, show screen." A screen popped into view in front of Data and began showing him some very familiar images: pictures of Doctor Noonien Soongh, and of his brother, Lore. It also flashed some images of the lower points of his career in Starfleet, and a few random pictures of very sad things. "Computer, put in scent programmed." A breeze of chill air swept into the room, smelling mainly of dust. The air soon seemed overly cool and thin, and the room was clouded with a musty sort of atmosphere. There was just one more thing.
"Computer, play sound file."
Terrible music played in from all around Data. Few other people could stand it, he was sure. He had had to pull it out of one of the hardest-to- reach records of the Enterprise computer.
Just then, Commander Riker walked in. He had been ordered by the Captain to bring Data up to the bridge for an urgent situation involving the climate of the ship (the ships engineers had all passed out because of the temperature in engineering, and the relief staff couldn't even enter that section of the ship), but Data had apparently removed his commbadge. It was, needless to say, a shock to walk in and find Data in a dim, musty room, staring at gruesome images on a screen, and listening to…well, to Riker it seemed that it was the only thing in the Holodeck that wasn't depressing.
"Data! If I may ask, what are you doing in here, without a commbadge on, looking at these…rather disturbing images? Though I have to say, you can't beat the music."
"Computer, terminate screen and programmed scent." The computer obeyed, and Data stood up and walked over to Commander Riker. "Sir, I apologize for removing my commbadge, but I did not want to be disturbed. I am attempting to stimulate depression."
"Well, that would explain all that sighing you were doing when I came in. Wait. You were trying to stimulate depression in * yourself *?" Riker, still listening intently to the music, began to tap his foot.
"Yes, sir, in myself. You see, I was observing Lieutenant Bar-"
"Shh! Data, don't you know good music when you hear it?" asked Riker, snapping his fingers to the beat. "What * is * this stuff? I want to listen to this more often. You know, I like to play some stuff that's sort of similar to this. I-"
"Sir, this music is a recording of * you *, six months ago. Or rather, a recording of your trombone."
"Oh. Well that explains why I like it so much. Come on, Data, we have to get going if you're going to help us with the situation in engineering."
"What situation in engineering must I deal with?" Data asked as they walked out of the Holodeck. He felt it quite fortunate that the First Officer hadn't put two and two together-that Data was using his music to depress himself.
"Well, you see, Data, there was this….."
"Come on, Reg. I think I know of a way to cheer you up," Geordi said, thinking maybe that this last desperate effort would in some way pluck up the engineer's spirit. He had been trying for the past half-hour to improve Reg's cheer, but to no avail. The officer was still down and out, and Geordi had already used his secret weapon: the grotesque Eskimo-eating platypus joke his mother used to tell him.
Barclay stood up reluctantly and followed Geordi from the room, thinking that if the Chief Engineer didn't give up soon, * he * would.
Geordi led Barclay directly to the Holodeck and positioned him in front of the doors.
"Okay, get prepared to be…happy!" said Geordi hopefully as he pushed a couple of buttons. "Okay, go on in!"
Barclay walked warily into the dark room, and Geordi watched him go in.
That's funny, thought Geordi. I remember this program being very different.
A few moments later, Barclay walked out red in the face and absolutely shrieking with laughter. He collapsed and slid down the wall outside the Holodeck, pounding his fist on the floor in his merriment.
"I didn't-" he managed to get out between hysterical giggles. "know that * anyone * could be that terrible at playing the trombone!"
The end. So what do you think? Please, oh please say that it's an okay start. And please write me a review. ( Your buddy, Lyra Silvertongue.
"So, Data, what seems to be so urgent that you had to see me * now *?" Counselor Troi settled herself in her chair and picked up a mug full of steaming hot liquid.
"Counselor, it is nothing urgent, but…I am curious about this human state called 'depression.' I wish to learn more about it. I observed Lieutenant Barclay in this state this afternoon, but…I am puzzled. How can humans consider this behavior 'normal'?"
"Well, Data, that's a good question, and I'm glad you asked. Humans-" she paused. "Humans, and many humanoid creatures might go through a 'cycle' during a certain period of time. For instance, a month, six months, a year, and so on. During this 'cycle,' their moods, or…or the way they see the world may change. Lieutenant Barclay is most likely just going through * his * cycle of moods and has reached the point where he is depressed. It's really quite natural."
Data remained quiet during all of this, thinking. "If humans go through this 'cycle,' and I am modeled after humans, could it be possible that * I * have a 'cycle?'"
"Of course, but I hardly think that your cycle would be quite as dramatic as the ones that humans go through! In fact, I think it would be quite subtle. So," she put down her mug "does this answer your question?"
"Yes, counselor. Thank you. However, this matter requires further study. I think I will do that now." He exited without another word. Troi sat for a moment, considering the entire thing, anticipated Data's next move in his research, then went to send a message to Reginald Barclay.
Geordi peered over the heads of the people chatting in Ten-forward. The computer said he was here, but-ah! There! Oh, he was looking out the window, not a good sign. Geordi slowly made his way over to Reggie Barclay, and sat down beside him.
"Oh, Reg," he sighed.
Barclay was drooped over completely, the picture of emotional upset: shoulders slumped, with his forehead and hands propped against the window of Ten-forward, staring out into space.
"It's so empty, isn't it, sir?" he asked slowly, sensing the chief's presence.
"What, space?" Geordi responded quickly. "No, I don't think so, really. I mean, it * is * full of stars, and planets, and ships, and even though it's devoid of air I think it's really quite full-"
"No," Reg said dully. "Life." One of his hands slipped down the 'glass,' fell to the floor, then reached up to rub his nose. Then it resumed its position on the window.
Geordi was eager to cheer up this officer, but he didn't really think he was that good at this sort of thing. "Aw, cheer up, Reg. I'm sure that things could always be worse."
Reg sighed. Guinan took this opportunity to serve drinks (not ordered, but the right ones, as usual), placing them quietly on the table behind the two officers. Geordi picked up his drink and took a sip.
"Come on, Reg. Tell me. What's got you down?"
Tapping a final digit into the console, Data called to the computer,
"Computer, run program Data gamma."
He stepped inside and looked around. There really wasn't much to see. He walked to the chair that sat in the middle of the dark room and sat down. "Computer, show screen." A screen popped into view in front of Data and began showing him some very familiar images: pictures of Doctor Noonien Soongh, and of his brother, Lore. It also flashed some images of the lower points of his career in Starfleet, and a few random pictures of very sad things. "Computer, put in scent programmed." A breeze of chill air swept into the room, smelling mainly of dust. The air soon seemed overly cool and thin, and the room was clouded with a musty sort of atmosphere. There was just one more thing.
"Computer, play sound file."
Terrible music played in from all around Data. Few other people could stand it, he was sure. He had had to pull it out of one of the hardest-to- reach records of the Enterprise computer.
Just then, Commander Riker walked in. He had been ordered by the Captain to bring Data up to the bridge for an urgent situation involving the climate of the ship (the ships engineers had all passed out because of the temperature in engineering, and the relief staff couldn't even enter that section of the ship), but Data had apparently removed his commbadge. It was, needless to say, a shock to walk in and find Data in a dim, musty room, staring at gruesome images on a screen, and listening to…well, to Riker it seemed that it was the only thing in the Holodeck that wasn't depressing.
"Data! If I may ask, what are you doing in here, without a commbadge on, looking at these…rather disturbing images? Though I have to say, you can't beat the music."
"Computer, terminate screen and programmed scent." The computer obeyed, and Data stood up and walked over to Commander Riker. "Sir, I apologize for removing my commbadge, but I did not want to be disturbed. I am attempting to stimulate depression."
"Well, that would explain all that sighing you were doing when I came in. Wait. You were trying to stimulate depression in * yourself *?" Riker, still listening intently to the music, began to tap his foot.
"Yes, sir, in myself. You see, I was observing Lieutenant Bar-"
"Shh! Data, don't you know good music when you hear it?" asked Riker, snapping his fingers to the beat. "What * is * this stuff? I want to listen to this more often. You know, I like to play some stuff that's sort of similar to this. I-"
"Sir, this music is a recording of * you *, six months ago. Or rather, a recording of your trombone."
"Oh. Well that explains why I like it so much. Come on, Data, we have to get going if you're going to help us with the situation in engineering."
"What situation in engineering must I deal with?" Data asked as they walked out of the Holodeck. He felt it quite fortunate that the First Officer hadn't put two and two together-that Data was using his music to depress himself.
"Well, you see, Data, there was this….."
"Come on, Reg. I think I know of a way to cheer you up," Geordi said, thinking maybe that this last desperate effort would in some way pluck up the engineer's spirit. He had been trying for the past half-hour to improve Reg's cheer, but to no avail. The officer was still down and out, and Geordi had already used his secret weapon: the grotesque Eskimo-eating platypus joke his mother used to tell him.
Barclay stood up reluctantly and followed Geordi from the room, thinking that if the Chief Engineer didn't give up soon, * he * would.
Geordi led Barclay directly to the Holodeck and positioned him in front of the doors.
"Okay, get prepared to be…happy!" said Geordi hopefully as he pushed a couple of buttons. "Okay, go on in!"
Barclay walked warily into the dark room, and Geordi watched him go in.
That's funny, thought Geordi. I remember this program being very different.
A few moments later, Barclay walked out red in the face and absolutely shrieking with laughter. He collapsed and slid down the wall outside the Holodeck, pounding his fist on the floor in his merriment.
"I didn't-" he managed to get out between hysterical giggles. "know that * anyone * could be that terrible at playing the trombone!"
The end. So what do you think? Please, oh please say that it's an okay start. And please write me a review. ( Your buddy, Lyra Silvertongue.