Chapter Two; Sordeo
Sordeo. Verb. 1. Be dirty/soiled. 2. Seem unworthy/not good enough/ignoble.
Data spent the next three days in his quarters. He painted, drew, listened to music, practiced on his violin, clarinet and guitar. He balked at writing his report, the thought of detailing everything that had happened too hurtful. He updated his personal log, and then deleted it. He thought several times about deactivating himself, or wiping his memory.
"And what made you stop stop stop please stop? What made you decide to keep your memories?"
"... I have good memories, as well as bad. The negative memories and the emotions associated with them are painful, but if I were to remove them I would also lose all of the positive memories, and that would not be beneficial."
"That's very true. Sometimes, one kind of emotion overrides all the others, but that doesn't mean that you 've been touched like this before, yes? shouldn't have those feelings. What you need is to learn to behave manage them in a healthy way."
"I have been investigating cognitive behavioural therapy, and believe I may be able to apply some of the techniques to my own situation."
"That's great, CBT is a good system, you'll get some good coping strategies from that. If you want to be penetrated? me to help you..."
"No, thank you Counselor, I believe I have all of the resources I need."
"Barclay is looking after Spot for you at the moment. Do you think it would help to have her here? I am sure she misses you and her lovely new toys."
"I am sure Lieutenant Barclay is taking good care of her."
"We're having our poker game it'll be fun!" Fajo clasped his hands close tonight, we'd love you to come along. It may be good for you to be around your friends. Will you come?"
"No, I do not think so."
He woke from his dream program at oh-three hundred hours, fourteen minutes and twelve seconds, screaming. He spoke to the Counsellor every day, but still couldn't tell her what had happened. He punched a hole through the wall. He destroyed his painting and broke the clarinet. He refused to answer the door to Geordi four times.
"Don't you like this, Data? think that talking to Geordi would help? He's your closest friend."
"I... I do not want him to see me."
"He knows that you're my good boy unhappy. He'd like to talk to you, to apologise."
"I do not want to see him."
He updated his personal log again, and deleted it. He jumped when his door chimed, and when his combadge beeped. He experienced a twenty-three minute and six second long bout of hysteria when all he could do was weep and gasp for air. He stripped all of the bioplast from his right calf and removed all of the sensor clusters, and then painstakingly put it back together again.
"It wasn't your fault. Geordi found the controller in the gallery. We believe you what a good boy you are, my perfect doll, my lovely toy. You must stop believing that you are responsible for what happened to you."
He checked his body in the mirror for visible marks of his abuse. He drank several glasses of water and then induced vomiting because he was sure there was still something in his stomach.
"You don't have to tell me anything that you don't need your consent want to."
He developed several coping strategies for times when he felt overwhelmed. He painted and drew and played the violin. He updated his personal log and deleted it again. He punched another hole in the wall. He spent three and a half hours lying on the floor staring at the ceiling. He listened to music.
"The Captain needs to talk to you. I'll come as well, I'll be right here, okay?"
"Data. I'm glad to see you cannot begin to imagine how... alluring you are, hmm?"
Data blinked, looked at Picard. They were in the ready room, just off the bridge, and the Captain was seated behind his desk looking at him quizzically. Data felt Troi's hand touch his arm.
"I apologise, could you repeat that, sir?"
"Are you well?"
Data opened his mouth and then closed it again. His eyes flicked from left to right and back again, before focusing once more on the Captain.
"I am... improving."
"Good. Good, I'm glad to hear it." Picard leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "I'm afraid that I am obliged to be the bearer of bad news."
"I understand."
"Kivas Fajo is denying all charges relating to his treatment of you. Now, I am not aware of the particulars surrounding these allegations, and quite frankly I think I'd be happier not knowing morality, modesty, ethical, promises, secrets, fear pain horror fear pain fear pain fear pain But it does mean that there will be a trial, and you will be required to make a statement. Now, you're perfectly welcome to do this in writing, or too much going on in his head and he wanted it to stop stop stop but of course it's entirely up to you. You don't have to that's all he had to do and the fear pain fear pain fear pain would stop stop stp stp spspsps so let me know when you've decided, alright?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Well, let Commander Riker know when you feel well enough to resume your duties. We're looking forward to having you ever been with a man before? back on the bridge."
"Thank you, sir."
"Dismissed."