Chapter Two
He watched unseen. Present in observing, yet observing what was no longer present. It was as if he were watching a performance of things that had already happened, and in a sense, he was doing exactly that. At this point, the boy had not been ready yet. But he was beginning to understand. Soon, the boy would realize his destiny, that he was far more advanced than the creatures with which he had, at this juncture in time, surrounded himself. But not yet. However, the next occurrences in his life were some of what taught him, and he'd begun to see.
The alien had not worried at this point. He'd had all the time in the universe and he could have waited forever.
* * *
Robin Wallace walked down the hallway towards her defense class in Holodeck C. Her dream was to be in Security, which was good because she didn't have much of a head for Medical or Engineering. Neither did she like the idea of Command since she was timid about making life-and-death decisions in a split second. Making split-second life-and-death decisions, however, was the one and only thing about which Robin Wallace was timid.
Just then, Wesley came striding around the corner from the opposite direction, headed for his quarters. Whenever Wes walked, he had been told, he bore the distinct look of someone who was hurrying somewhere, preoccupied. So at this moment he had been trying to look tall and confident, strutting around like Will Riker does, smiling and winking at every pretty female. If Wes Crusher winked at all the women, they'd think he'd lost his marbles. As soon as he caught sight of Robin coming from the other direction, he reverted to his normal walk, blushing slightly.
"Hi, Wes!" Robin smiled beautifully. To Wesley, everything Robin did was beautiful. Robin had met Wesley two weeks ago in her Astrophysics class. He was really good with that sort of thing, and before long he was helping her with it outside the classroom. They had become fast friends. There was a growing attraction between them, Robin could tell, but it was still in its very early and awkward stages. She turned to walk with him, back the way she had come. "Where are you headed so quickly?"
"Hi, Robin," Wes smiled back at her. Great. I look like I'm hurrying again. "I was just going back to my quarters for a couple of minutes before my shift starts on the bridge."
"It must be so great working on the bridge," Robin mused.
"Yeah, sometimes," Wes breathed. "But it usually gets boring. I'm never there when anything exciting happens."
"Yeah, right," Robin elbowed him. "You've gotten into your share of scraps. I knew your name before I knew your face: 'Wesley Crusher saves the Enterprise... again!'"
"I don't do it that often," Wes sort of hated that subject. It sort of... separated him. People tended to give him a nice wide berth, too, as if they thought he might throw up a portable forcefield on the spot, sparks flying from his fingertips like some sort of wizard or something. He decided to change the subject. "Robin, weren't you going in the other direction?"
"Yeah, but I don't feel like being on time for defense class," she grinned mischievously. ...and beautifully. "Don't mind my company, do you?"
"Not at all! So I guess we're both escaping something," Wes laughed.
"What are you escaping?"
"Karen Nolan."
"Who's Karen Nolan?" Robin was surprised to hear a twinge of jealousy in her voice. Wesley was thrilled to hear a twinge of jealousy in her voice. For a split second, Wes considered and rejected the idea of telling Robin that Karen was some very beautiful and mysteriously intriguing older woman who was after him. Had he more time to think about his fabrication, he might have. But Wes was an awful on-the-spot liar, which is not an altogether bad quality in a person.
"Some thirteen-year-old girl who's got a crush on me. She's not obnoxious or anything, I just feel like I'm tripping all over her. Whenever I turn around, she's right there watching me, following me, doing everything I do..."
Robin turned to look over her shoulder, behind Wesley. Wes stopped walking, wondering what Robin was doing.
"Well, she's not there now," Robin smiled, "I guess we're alone."
"I guess we are."
Robin leaned towards Wes, taking hold of his upper arms. Wes felt himself slip his arms around her waist without remembering having told his arms to do that. He could hear his heart beating in his head. She's going to kiss me!
He closed his eyes and heard a gratingly horrible sound. The sound of Billy Nolan's voice.
"Hey, Crusher!"
Robin and Wes turned around, surprised and embarrassed.
"Oh, did I interrupt something?" Billy grinned.
Wes glared at him. Boy, did you ever.
"Excuse me, ladies, but I have to be off to a man's class. First day of Defense, I can't be late. You should try it sometime, Crusher, if you think you can handle it." Billy placed a hand in the center of Wes's chest and shoved. Wes stepped back with one foot to keep from falling backward, but made no countering move other than to glare murderously at Billy's retreating back.
"Oh, and Crusher, I hope you haven't lost Karen."
Robin and Wes watched him go. Wes's face burned with humiliation and anger.
"He's going to get quite a surprise when he finds me in that 'man's class' he's off to," Robin grinned and glanced over at Wesley. He was still glaring down the corridor towards where Billy had gone. "Don't worry about it, Wes. He's a jerk," Robin touched her fingers under his chin and kissed him quickly on the lips. "See you later!"
She took off down the corridor, leaving Wes in complete shock. His eyes were wide and sparkling and his mouth hung slightly open. He watched her walk down the corridor and around the corner but he still stood there for a long moment.
She kissed me!
* * *
"Enter," Data called from inside his quarters. Geordi walked through the doors to find Data sitting at his computer desk, studying Spot, his cat.
"Hi, Data," Geordi smiled. "You wanted to see me?"
"I took your advice regarding my poetry, and attempted to write about a specific object of some importance to me. I also attempted to use "poetic license" by concentrating my efforts on the image rather than the meter. Although I must admit, I found this particular method more difficult."
"That was always easier for me," Geordi was no longer surprised that Human shortcuts were very often longer for his android friend. Iambic pentameter came much more easily to androids than imagery did.
"Geordi," Data used his well-practiced "mildly surprised" expression, the only facial expression the android had been able to perfect, "I was not aware that you wrote poetry."
"Well, I don't. Not really. But I had to try it for a class once."
"If you do not mind, I would like to read your poems sometime."
"If I still have them," Geordi began, "but first let's hear yours."
"I have chosen Spot as the subject of my poem."
"Great! Fire away," Geordi leaned back in the chair. Data was no longer confused by Geordi's colloquialisms. Perhaps in earlier days Data would have asked Geordi what to fire at, but Data was now familiar with that particular phrase. Geordi couldn't help being relieved that Data was not at the Ops station on the bridge when he heard that particular colloquialism for the first time. A war might have ensued.
Data began his poem.
"A domesticated carnivore of Felis Domestica,
With striped or brindled orange hair,
Resembling Abyssinian, Somali and Angora,
Felines of this type are hardly rare.
She can quietly stalk on her carpal pads
Because her claw tendons are retracted.
Her pupils narrow and irises widen
When bright light is refracted.
When prey is near, she--"
"Data!" Geordi interrupted. Data stopped abruptly and looked up, naiveté reflected in his yellow eyes.
"Is something wrong?" the android asked, unaware of any deviation from normal poetry.
"You're defining a cat!"
Data blinked. "Am I?"
"Yes! Data, it's a good poem, but..." Geordi hesitated as if not to hurt Data's feelings, even though he didn't have any, "wasn't your original intention to be creative? Metaphorical?"
Data began to compute. He cocked his head and his eyes moved very slightly, as if listening to a voice in his head. "Metaphor. The application of a word or phrase to an object or concept it does not literally denote in order to suggest comparison with another object or concept. Often applied in literature when--"
"Maybe I can give you an example," Geordi interrupted. Data was used to being interrupted. He had made many studies of when to cease giving information, but it seemed that it was never correct, whether too much or too little. Humans were confounding that way. Data had been trying to perfect that concept since being commissioned to the Enterprise. Everyone had given up hope.
Geordi continued, "In one of my poems I used this one: 'The blazing chariot of the sun pulled by horses of flame burned a fiery path across the raging sky.'"
Data was wordless for a moment. "I am impressed, Geordi. I did not know you could describe such a scene. You have never witnessed it the way a sighted being can see it."
"That's just it. It's not the way people see it, it's the way I see it. But it's pretty close to the same thing, I've been told. Heat detection," Geordi tapped his VISOR.
"Of course."
"You could do personification. That's giving living traits to a non- living thing. Making it like a person," Geordi spared Data the trouble of looking that one up in his positronic dictionary. "If I were to change the image I just gave you, um... The fiery monarch of the sun rose to his feet and all his subjects of shadow fell to their knees before him."
"Again," Data's eyes were wide, "I am impressed. As the sun rises, shadows are foreshortened. The image is apt, and powerful. Yet you thought of it in seconds."
"Nah, it's really nothing," Geordi came just short of blushing. Then he sat up straight and pointed a finger at Data, "And if you tell a soul, I'll disassemble you!"
Data's face was solemn, "It will be our secret, Geordi." He paused and created an approximation of dejection. "Perhaps you have a Human capacity for imagination that I have not yet mastered."
"You'll get it, Data," Geordi comforted, "It's just something that comes with practice."
Data's eyes seemed to turn inward, pondering. "Perhaps you are right. I will try again."
"I'll leave you to it," Geordi stood. "See ya, Data."
"Goodbye, Geordi," Data always seemed to say that with such finality, "and thank you."
He watched unseen. Present in observing, yet observing what was no longer present. It was as if he were watching a performance of things that had already happened, and in a sense, he was doing exactly that. At this point, the boy had not been ready yet. But he was beginning to understand. Soon, the boy would realize his destiny, that he was far more advanced than the creatures with which he had, at this juncture in time, surrounded himself. But not yet. However, the next occurrences in his life were some of what taught him, and he'd begun to see.
The alien had not worried at this point. He'd had all the time in the universe and he could have waited forever.
* * *
Robin Wallace walked down the hallway towards her defense class in Holodeck C. Her dream was to be in Security, which was good because she didn't have much of a head for Medical or Engineering. Neither did she like the idea of Command since she was timid about making life-and-death decisions in a split second. Making split-second life-and-death decisions, however, was the one and only thing about which Robin Wallace was timid.
Just then, Wesley came striding around the corner from the opposite direction, headed for his quarters. Whenever Wes walked, he had been told, he bore the distinct look of someone who was hurrying somewhere, preoccupied. So at this moment he had been trying to look tall and confident, strutting around like Will Riker does, smiling and winking at every pretty female. If Wes Crusher winked at all the women, they'd think he'd lost his marbles. As soon as he caught sight of Robin coming from the other direction, he reverted to his normal walk, blushing slightly.
"Hi, Wes!" Robin smiled beautifully. To Wesley, everything Robin did was beautiful. Robin had met Wesley two weeks ago in her Astrophysics class. He was really good with that sort of thing, and before long he was helping her with it outside the classroom. They had become fast friends. There was a growing attraction between them, Robin could tell, but it was still in its very early and awkward stages. She turned to walk with him, back the way she had come. "Where are you headed so quickly?"
"Hi, Robin," Wes smiled back at her. Great. I look like I'm hurrying again. "I was just going back to my quarters for a couple of minutes before my shift starts on the bridge."
"It must be so great working on the bridge," Robin mused.
"Yeah, sometimes," Wes breathed. "But it usually gets boring. I'm never there when anything exciting happens."
"Yeah, right," Robin elbowed him. "You've gotten into your share of scraps. I knew your name before I knew your face: 'Wesley Crusher saves the Enterprise... again!'"
"I don't do it that often," Wes sort of hated that subject. It sort of... separated him. People tended to give him a nice wide berth, too, as if they thought he might throw up a portable forcefield on the spot, sparks flying from his fingertips like some sort of wizard or something. He decided to change the subject. "Robin, weren't you going in the other direction?"
"Yeah, but I don't feel like being on time for defense class," she grinned mischievously. ...and beautifully. "Don't mind my company, do you?"
"Not at all! So I guess we're both escaping something," Wes laughed.
"What are you escaping?"
"Karen Nolan."
"Who's Karen Nolan?" Robin was surprised to hear a twinge of jealousy in her voice. Wesley was thrilled to hear a twinge of jealousy in her voice. For a split second, Wes considered and rejected the idea of telling Robin that Karen was some very beautiful and mysteriously intriguing older woman who was after him. Had he more time to think about his fabrication, he might have. But Wes was an awful on-the-spot liar, which is not an altogether bad quality in a person.
"Some thirteen-year-old girl who's got a crush on me. She's not obnoxious or anything, I just feel like I'm tripping all over her. Whenever I turn around, she's right there watching me, following me, doing everything I do..."
Robin turned to look over her shoulder, behind Wesley. Wes stopped walking, wondering what Robin was doing.
"Well, she's not there now," Robin smiled, "I guess we're alone."
"I guess we are."
Robin leaned towards Wes, taking hold of his upper arms. Wes felt himself slip his arms around her waist without remembering having told his arms to do that. He could hear his heart beating in his head. She's going to kiss me!
He closed his eyes and heard a gratingly horrible sound. The sound of Billy Nolan's voice.
"Hey, Crusher!"
Robin and Wes turned around, surprised and embarrassed.
"Oh, did I interrupt something?" Billy grinned.
Wes glared at him. Boy, did you ever.
"Excuse me, ladies, but I have to be off to a man's class. First day of Defense, I can't be late. You should try it sometime, Crusher, if you think you can handle it." Billy placed a hand in the center of Wes's chest and shoved. Wes stepped back with one foot to keep from falling backward, but made no countering move other than to glare murderously at Billy's retreating back.
"Oh, and Crusher, I hope you haven't lost Karen."
Robin and Wes watched him go. Wes's face burned with humiliation and anger.
"He's going to get quite a surprise when he finds me in that 'man's class' he's off to," Robin grinned and glanced over at Wesley. He was still glaring down the corridor towards where Billy had gone. "Don't worry about it, Wes. He's a jerk," Robin touched her fingers under his chin and kissed him quickly on the lips. "See you later!"
She took off down the corridor, leaving Wes in complete shock. His eyes were wide and sparkling and his mouth hung slightly open. He watched her walk down the corridor and around the corner but he still stood there for a long moment.
She kissed me!
* * *
"Enter," Data called from inside his quarters. Geordi walked through the doors to find Data sitting at his computer desk, studying Spot, his cat.
"Hi, Data," Geordi smiled. "You wanted to see me?"
"I took your advice regarding my poetry, and attempted to write about a specific object of some importance to me. I also attempted to use "poetic license" by concentrating my efforts on the image rather than the meter. Although I must admit, I found this particular method more difficult."
"That was always easier for me," Geordi was no longer surprised that Human shortcuts were very often longer for his android friend. Iambic pentameter came much more easily to androids than imagery did.
"Geordi," Data used his well-practiced "mildly surprised" expression, the only facial expression the android had been able to perfect, "I was not aware that you wrote poetry."
"Well, I don't. Not really. But I had to try it for a class once."
"If you do not mind, I would like to read your poems sometime."
"If I still have them," Geordi began, "but first let's hear yours."
"I have chosen Spot as the subject of my poem."
"Great! Fire away," Geordi leaned back in the chair. Data was no longer confused by Geordi's colloquialisms. Perhaps in earlier days Data would have asked Geordi what to fire at, but Data was now familiar with that particular phrase. Geordi couldn't help being relieved that Data was not at the Ops station on the bridge when he heard that particular colloquialism for the first time. A war might have ensued.
Data began his poem.
"A domesticated carnivore of Felis Domestica,
With striped or brindled orange hair,
Resembling Abyssinian, Somali and Angora,
Felines of this type are hardly rare.
She can quietly stalk on her carpal pads
Because her claw tendons are retracted.
Her pupils narrow and irises widen
When bright light is refracted.
When prey is near, she--"
"Data!" Geordi interrupted. Data stopped abruptly and looked up, naiveté reflected in his yellow eyes.
"Is something wrong?" the android asked, unaware of any deviation from normal poetry.
"You're defining a cat!"
Data blinked. "Am I?"
"Yes! Data, it's a good poem, but..." Geordi hesitated as if not to hurt Data's feelings, even though he didn't have any, "wasn't your original intention to be creative? Metaphorical?"
Data began to compute. He cocked his head and his eyes moved very slightly, as if listening to a voice in his head. "Metaphor. The application of a word or phrase to an object or concept it does not literally denote in order to suggest comparison with another object or concept. Often applied in literature when--"
"Maybe I can give you an example," Geordi interrupted. Data was used to being interrupted. He had made many studies of when to cease giving information, but it seemed that it was never correct, whether too much or too little. Humans were confounding that way. Data had been trying to perfect that concept since being commissioned to the Enterprise. Everyone had given up hope.
Geordi continued, "In one of my poems I used this one: 'The blazing chariot of the sun pulled by horses of flame burned a fiery path across the raging sky.'"
Data was wordless for a moment. "I am impressed, Geordi. I did not know you could describe such a scene. You have never witnessed it the way a sighted being can see it."
"That's just it. It's not the way people see it, it's the way I see it. But it's pretty close to the same thing, I've been told. Heat detection," Geordi tapped his VISOR.
"Of course."
"You could do personification. That's giving living traits to a non- living thing. Making it like a person," Geordi spared Data the trouble of looking that one up in his positronic dictionary. "If I were to change the image I just gave you, um... The fiery monarch of the sun rose to his feet and all his subjects of shadow fell to their knees before him."
"Again," Data's eyes were wide, "I am impressed. As the sun rises, shadows are foreshortened. The image is apt, and powerful. Yet you thought of it in seconds."
"Nah, it's really nothing," Geordi came just short of blushing. Then he sat up straight and pointed a finger at Data, "And if you tell a soul, I'll disassemble you!"
Data's face was solemn, "It will be our secret, Geordi." He paused and created an approximation of dejection. "Perhaps you have a Human capacity for imagination that I have not yet mastered."
"You'll get it, Data," Geordi comforted, "It's just something that comes with practice."
Data's eyes seemed to turn inward, pondering. "Perhaps you are right. I will try again."
"I'll leave you to it," Geordi stood. "See ya, Data."
"Goodbye, Geordi," Data always seemed to say that with such finality, "and thank you."