TITLE: Dear Annie (Letter #2)
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Fusion."
NOTES: Thank to everyone who took the time to say they liked Hoshi's first letter. Feedback does a body good . Thanks again to Captain Average for the beta.
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Dear Annie,
As promised, here I am again, remembering to catch you up on the events of the day...month...whatever. I'm glad my last message reached you in good health, and I'm thrilled to hear your news about Sarit, she deserves all the good luck in the world! Tell her I said she'll knock 'em dead at Bar Ilan.
As for what's happening out here, well, I never knew that mapping could be so exciting. Not the job of mapping, exactly, but who we had helping us. Would be believe renegade Vulcans?
Apparently, they took off in this ship with the goal of integrating emotion with logic. T'Pol says this is pretty dangerous, and if even half of what the rumor mill and the official log say are true, T'Pol may well be right.
Of course, I was out of the loop for most of the goings on, what with no new languages to learn. But, when I wasn't helping with the mapping or routing calls to and from Vulcan and Earth, I did get a chance to speak to their comm officer, and I gave him some help in upgrading their communications capabilities.
Don't laugh, I did admit you were right about those extra electronics courses way back when. And they came in handy before this, remember? I *know* I told you about the incident with the donkey and the waterfall.
So, I chatted up their comm officer, and if seven months ago you'd told me I'd meet a Vulcan who could chat, I'd have laughed you out of the room. Their small talk abilities still leave a little to be desired, but I did learn a bit about them. They've got some intriguing ideas. Just imagine: the formidable Vulcan intellect matched with emotional range. And it seems like most of them are managing pretty well, although there's a rumor about one...but it's only a rumor.
The past few days have been a real roller coaster, though. Here we were, a batch of humans out in the middle of deep space, working with a ship full of Vulcans getting in touch with their emotions.
And, didn't *that* put the fox in the henhouse. (Oh, good grief, I'm starting to sound like Trip. I think it's the curse of the linguist, not only to pick up language, but to pick up dialect as well.) In any case, Trip described these Vulcans as "more fun than a barrel of monkeys" (although I'm pretty certain *that* was intended to be sarcastic) and had a grand time doing male bonding activities with their engineer. This included, my informants tell me, sitting around with Malcolm in the mess hall asking about Vulcan sex. Why they wanted to know, I leave as an exercise for the reader.
And they weren't the only ones acting odd. First, the Captain snookers T'Pol into spending time on the Vulcan ship, then he acts like a broody hen (see, there I go with the animals again, definitely too much time with a certain dashing engineer) when she starts spending time with one of them. Maybe he's the one who wanted to know about Vulcan sex. As far as I can tell, most of the male population of this ship is interested in Vulcan sex.
Do I sound a little bitter? I shouldn't be, I suppose. It's not as if T'Pol encourages them, and the lure of the exotic and the unattainable has always been strong for the male of our species. Look at Eric and whatshername.
I suppose the theme around here *has* been strong emotion of one variety or another. The Captain and I seem to be getting jealous, most of the men are polishing up their lust, the Vulcan engineer had a brush with regret according to Trip, and T'Pol is getting in touch with some emotion or other, but definitely not any of the good ones. I'm not sure what happened, but it left her in sick bay, and she's looked absolutely terrible ever since.
I'm worried about her, actually. I mean, this is the woman who came back from being held hostage by the Andorians and *then* by the Coridians and the only reaction was a briefly raised eyebrow and a comment about their "incivility." And after a few days with other Vulcans, she looks like she's seen the coming apocalypse.
I tried to talk to her--she's helped me with my claustrophobia, I wanted to return the favor--but I got a brush-off. I'll try to be around in case she decides to talk about it. I can't force her to talk to me, all I can do is worry.
All of this got me thinking about emotions. How did they evolve? What purpose do they serve? What exactly do Vulcans give up by suppressing their emotions? Sometimes, it seems like it might be nice to avoid embarrassment, regret, sadness, anger, irritation, but I'm not sure what I would do without joy or pride or that feeling I get in my stomach when speaking to a handsome man.
I guess that's the heart of the problem in Vulcan/human interaction: our emotions weave their way through everything we do. They don't control us (as the Vulcans seem to think), but they tie our lives together, they make our experiences more intense, sometimes in a good way, sometimes bad.
If I were Vulcan, Eric couldn't have hurt me so badly, but I also wouldn't feel the triumph when I save everybody's butts around here. If I were Vulcan, I would just meditate away loneliness, but I wouldn't feel the awe when we see a portion of space no human has ever seen before.
That's what being human is all about, isn't it? Trade-offs.
See, there I go getting all philosophical and dumping doom and gloom on you again. Probably residue from late night bull sessions in your dorm room. Well, make sure you give everyone my love, and if you want more detail on these Vulcans, let me know and I'll send you a copy of the long letter I sent to Tracy. I knew she'd kill me if she didn't get a full report. As long as she cites me in the inevitable journal article!
Speaking of Tracy, did you hear from Jake? Can you believe he and Misha have a baby? Those boys still seem like babies to me. I told them to take better care of the baby than they did of the goldfish.
Time to get some sleep, I think. Tomorrow *should* be quiet, since we're still en route to our next destination, but you can't take anything for granted in deep space.
I suppose that's half the fun.
Love,
Hoshi
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Fusion."
NOTES: Thank to everyone who took the time to say they liked Hoshi's first letter. Feedback does a body good . Thanks again to Captain Average for the beta.
******************************
Dear Annie,
As promised, here I am again, remembering to catch you up on the events of the day...month...whatever. I'm glad my last message reached you in good health, and I'm thrilled to hear your news about Sarit, she deserves all the good luck in the world! Tell her I said she'll knock 'em dead at Bar Ilan.
As for what's happening out here, well, I never knew that mapping could be so exciting. Not the job of mapping, exactly, but who we had helping us. Would be believe renegade Vulcans?
Apparently, they took off in this ship with the goal of integrating emotion with logic. T'Pol says this is pretty dangerous, and if even half of what the rumor mill and the official log say are true, T'Pol may well be right.
Of course, I was out of the loop for most of the goings on, what with no new languages to learn. But, when I wasn't helping with the mapping or routing calls to and from Vulcan and Earth, I did get a chance to speak to their comm officer, and I gave him some help in upgrading their communications capabilities.
Don't laugh, I did admit you were right about those extra electronics courses way back when. And they came in handy before this, remember? I *know* I told you about the incident with the donkey and the waterfall.
So, I chatted up their comm officer, and if seven months ago you'd told me I'd meet a Vulcan who could chat, I'd have laughed you out of the room. Their small talk abilities still leave a little to be desired, but I did learn a bit about them. They've got some intriguing ideas. Just imagine: the formidable Vulcan intellect matched with emotional range. And it seems like most of them are managing pretty well, although there's a rumor about one...but it's only a rumor.
The past few days have been a real roller coaster, though. Here we were, a batch of humans out in the middle of deep space, working with a ship full of Vulcans getting in touch with their emotions.
And, didn't *that* put the fox in the henhouse. (Oh, good grief, I'm starting to sound like Trip. I think it's the curse of the linguist, not only to pick up language, but to pick up dialect as well.) In any case, Trip described these Vulcans as "more fun than a barrel of monkeys" (although I'm pretty certain *that* was intended to be sarcastic) and had a grand time doing male bonding activities with their engineer. This included, my informants tell me, sitting around with Malcolm in the mess hall asking about Vulcan sex. Why they wanted to know, I leave as an exercise for the reader.
And they weren't the only ones acting odd. First, the Captain snookers T'Pol into spending time on the Vulcan ship, then he acts like a broody hen (see, there I go with the animals again, definitely too much time with a certain dashing engineer) when she starts spending time with one of them. Maybe he's the one who wanted to know about Vulcan sex. As far as I can tell, most of the male population of this ship is interested in Vulcan sex.
Do I sound a little bitter? I shouldn't be, I suppose. It's not as if T'Pol encourages them, and the lure of the exotic and the unattainable has always been strong for the male of our species. Look at Eric and whatshername.
I suppose the theme around here *has* been strong emotion of one variety or another. The Captain and I seem to be getting jealous, most of the men are polishing up their lust, the Vulcan engineer had a brush with regret according to Trip, and T'Pol is getting in touch with some emotion or other, but definitely not any of the good ones. I'm not sure what happened, but it left her in sick bay, and she's looked absolutely terrible ever since.
I'm worried about her, actually. I mean, this is the woman who came back from being held hostage by the Andorians and *then* by the Coridians and the only reaction was a briefly raised eyebrow and a comment about their "incivility." And after a few days with other Vulcans, she looks like she's seen the coming apocalypse.
I tried to talk to her--she's helped me with my claustrophobia, I wanted to return the favor--but I got a brush-off. I'll try to be around in case she decides to talk about it. I can't force her to talk to me, all I can do is worry.
All of this got me thinking about emotions. How did they evolve? What purpose do they serve? What exactly do Vulcans give up by suppressing their emotions? Sometimes, it seems like it might be nice to avoid embarrassment, regret, sadness, anger, irritation, but I'm not sure what I would do without joy or pride or that feeling I get in my stomach when speaking to a handsome man.
I guess that's the heart of the problem in Vulcan/human interaction: our emotions weave their way through everything we do. They don't control us (as the Vulcans seem to think), but they tie our lives together, they make our experiences more intense, sometimes in a good way, sometimes bad.
If I were Vulcan, Eric couldn't have hurt me so badly, but I also wouldn't feel the triumph when I save everybody's butts around here. If I were Vulcan, I would just meditate away loneliness, but I wouldn't feel the awe when we see a portion of space no human has ever seen before.
That's what being human is all about, isn't it? Trade-offs.
See, there I go getting all philosophical and dumping doom and gloom on you again. Probably residue from late night bull sessions in your dorm room. Well, make sure you give everyone my love, and if you want more detail on these Vulcans, let me know and I'll send you a copy of the long letter I sent to Tracy. I knew she'd kill me if she didn't get a full report. As long as she cites me in the inevitable journal article!
Speaking of Tracy, did you hear from Jake? Can you believe he and Misha have a baby? Those boys still seem like babies to me. I told them to take better care of the baby than they did of the goldfish.
Time to get some sleep, I think. Tomorrow *should* be quiet, since we're still en route to our next destination, but you can't take anything for granted in deep space.
I suppose that's half the fun.
Love,
Hoshi