A/N: I couldn't help but get a little geeky here. It's Spock! If I didn't explain transporters well enough and you are just as nerdy as me, check out "Physics of the Impossible" by Michio Kaku. He has an entire section devoted to transporter technology written beautifully in layman's terms with a sense of humor. Cheers!
Chapter 5- People and Photons
Spock and I walked together to his quarters. My brain was still buzzing with the memory of the way McCoy felt and a semi-permanent smile was plastered on my face. I tried my best to preserve the moment in my memory just as it felt: the swirling electricity that bounced between us, the slightly antiseptic smell of his skin from being in the sickbay all day, the way the entire room seemed to collapse around us. That one magical moment was better than crystal meth.
Spock walked quietly beside me with his hands behind his back smirking as much as he could possibly allow himself without actually doing so. He could have easily hidden his inner world from me, he had several times before; which led me to believe he had every intention of me seeing it. "What are you smiling about?" I asked playfully.
"I might ask the same of you, Doctor." He retorted slyly.
"But I am a human and humans smile, Vulcans don't." I challenged.
"Vulcans have the same musculature surrounding the mouth as do humans, so we are not precluded from doing so." He replied in his usual 'you aren't going to win this' tone. I stood in the lift for the short ride to the next floor down pondering what Spock would look like with a full on, toothy smile. They say that smiles were a universal greeting, but I found the mental image of him grinning almost as frightening as I did the grimace of Klingons. If anything it proved that smiles may have been the currency of goodwill on Earth, but that certainly wasn't true across the entire universe or even among humanoid species.
"Spock, why didn't you dance tonight? Do you not know how?" I inquired.
He seemed surprised by my curiosity. "On the contrary. I was taught to dance as a child on Vulcan, both in the traditional styles as well as some Earth methods taught to me by my mother- without my father's knowledge, of course." He seemed pleased at his clandestine activities. "I do not dance because it is the activity of children. Adults do dance, but only for very sensitive rituals. We do not dance for pleasure as humans do."
"I see." I sighed taking a seat at his desk. "What was it like on Vulcan? If you don't mind discussing it." I quickly added. It only dawned on me halfway through the sentence that he may not feel like reminiscing when his planet no longer existed.
"I do not mind." He answered standing at attention by his bed. "What would you like to know?"
"What was your education like? It seems the educational system was regarded as one of the toughest." I began.
He looked at the floor and gave an almost imperceptible shrug. "It was more difficult than that of the Romulans or even the humans. We were required to study many hours a day in front of banks of computers that quizzed us on many topics. This system assured that logic and reason were strengthened over emotion and it lasted until my 17th year. At that time, I went before the Council and was accepted to the Vulcan Science Academy."
"Is that like a college?" I interrupted.
He paused and deliberated before answering, "It would have been similar to what in your time was the National Academy of Sciences."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "That is a pretty big deal, then. Pretty much only Nobel Prize winners were inducted. That is quite an accomplishment, then."
"Yes," he said dryly, "that was also the assessment of the Council. They believed it nearly impossible for a human-Vulcan hybrid such as I to accomplish that honor. Despite my sustained effort to excel, I was still viewed as the weak bastard son of a human mother. So, I turned my back on the Council and was the first Vulcan to join Starfleet."
"Were you?" I asked in awe. "Did you find it difficult?"
A small sigh escaped his lips and that for me was a clear indication of the weight of his struggle. "Being the first of anything is difficult, Doctor." He replied vaguely. "But I do believe that more was expected of me than of the other cadets."
"So you gave it to them." I guessed.
"I performed at the highest level possible." He corrected.
It was sad to me that he would feel the need to work himself to death to impress who? Starfleet? Himself? The culture he left behind? "It seems as though Vulcans considered you a pariah because of your mother's heritage. Did that change when you enlisted?"
"Only in the respect that now it was my Vulcan heritage that was feared and despised." He calmly stated as though it didn't bother him in the least. "Of course not everyone viewed my genetic makeup as problematic, but enough did that I questioned my decision. I often pondered the possibility that I would have been just as well had I joined the Science Academy. Was it better to be ostracized by your own people or by a culture with which you only had the most tenuous connection?"
"So what did you decide?" I asked quietly.
He shifted his weight and swallowed. "I am uncertain, but what I do know is that I would no longer exist if I stayed on Vulcan. I likely would have perished with the rest. I have attained a measure of respect in Starfleet that I would like to believe is based on my performance record. At the very least, Starfleet gave me the opportunity to prove my worth as an individual, no matter my genesis." His eyes again settled on me, but they were resolute. "May I ask you a question, Doctor?"
"Sure." I agreed. It seemed a small request considering the amount of forthrightness he had afforded me.
"Why are you joining Starfleet?" He seemed genuinely curious.
I gave a small laugh and answered, "I didn't really have a choice."
"There is always a choice." He insisted. "You could have declined Jim's offer. It was a valid option to your circumstance."
"Not really. In order to keep my job, I have to do this and I will. I will admit it, I am scared."
He cocked his head slightly to the left and took a small step toward me. "Why is that, Doctor?"
"I am a little old for boot camp. You of all people should know that I am no athlete! But beyond that, it feels like handing the reigns over to an entity I am not sure I will like or trust. Right now I am free to do as I like without consulting anyone. Once I sign the dotted line, I am giving up control of my life, where I go, what I do, who I associate with. Everything changes." I sighed. "I like being the master of my own destiny." He seemed to understand. "But I have to because I love my job and I have come to deeply appreciate the crew. They have become like a second family to me and I just can't find it in myself to leave them. In short I guess I am joining because in the end it will be easier to endure than the thought of leaving."
"The intensity of the imagined bonds you share is fascinating." He commented with a raised eyebrow. "It is not typical of humans to put aside their own desires for the good of another."
"We do it all the time!" I protested. "That is exactly what being in a relationship involves. Sometimes you have to forget what you want to make your partner happy. It is all give and take. At least that is how it is supposed to work."
"Humans are perhaps the most interesting creatures I have observed. Your kind is inherently selfish and yet altruistic at the same time. The root of any given behavior is illogical and the outcome relentlessly unpredictable." He noted.
"Well yes! If you are trying to paint our entire species with one broad stroke you will be disappointed. If you look at the individual, you will find that humans are in fact very predictable." I explained. "For example, what would Jim do if he came up to the bridge one morning and you were sitting in his chair?"
"That would not occur, Doctor. There is no reason for me to do so unless he assigned the command to me in his absence." He stated simply.
"Ok, maybe you accidently fell into it. It doesn't matter why you were there." I revised.
"Falling into his chair would require a major shift in the ship's equilibrium. In essence I would have to perform a summersault over my station to land in the command chair." He continued. "And such an event is highly improbable."
"Improbable, but not impossible." I persisted. "Really, Spock, you are making this much harder than it needs to be. Who cares why or how you came to be in the chair. What would Jim do?"
"I believe the exact circumstances would dictate his response, Doctor. However, I believe he would most likely place his hands on his hips and widen his eyes momentarily and then proceed to laugh loudly."
"I think he would too." I agreed. "Now what would Sulu do if Chekov began taking food off his plate without asking?"
He thought about it and replied, "It would be rude for Mr. Chekov to appropriate food from Mr. Sulu's tray without seeking permission, however, Mr. Sulu would most likely allow him to do so without retribution."
"Exactly." I concurred. "See? It really isn't that hard. When people act in groups, then it starts going sideways because group dynamics are a little more difficult than individual behaviors. But that is probably best left to sociologists and anthropologists anyway."
"Perhaps I am better suited to natural sciences than social ones." He mused.
"They are very different, but I like them both. That reminds me, I read about temporary psychoses caused by transporter accidents. I get how someone could come unglued if they don't reappear in the same order as they left, but I don't really understand how transporters work. Can you explain it to me?" I requested.
He seemed to stand a bit straighter if it was possible and began his lecture. "If I recall, you stated at the first dinner you had with us that you had studied physics. Is this correct?"
"I did." I agreed.
"Then you may recall a principle of quantum physics called entanglement?" He prodded.
"Yeah. It is the ability of two atoms to vibrate in unison so that if one spins left the other automatically spins right no matter how far apart they are. Action at a distance it was also called." I was surprised I remembered it after all those years.
"Exactly. So the way in which a transporter works is Scotty scans the location and velocity of the atoms that construct your body." I began to object and he anticipated it. "The Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle previously disallowed this, but modern transporter pads have been fitted with compensators. Think of the molecules in your body as Group A. He then assembles a blank group in the location he wishes you to appear in; this is Group C. In between is Group B which is located in the computer. The information from Group A is copied to Group B. Because of entanglement, the blank molecules take on the information from group B and a reconstituted copy is made. Group A is then destroyed so two copies of you do not simultaneously exist and your 'signature' remains in the computer as a result of entanglement."
I struggled to follow, but slowly caught up. "So in very real terms, my body as I know it is destroyed."
"After it has reconstituted, yes." He agreed as though this were a completely normal state to find yourself in.
"So every time I step on the pad, I die." I clarified.
He lowered his voice and answered, "In a manner of speaking, yes."
Now I see why McCoy was so freaked out by transporters!
"The light that you see as a person dissolves are photons which are released as the copy is destroyed." He continued.
"Well, we are all made of stardust. We might as well shine like one as it goes supernova." I mumbled.
