Advance Forever, Salty Stars

Posted on Sun 27th Nov, 2016 @ 8:55pm by Lieutenant JG Kellian Michaels
Edited on Mon 28th Nov, 2016 @ 6:37am

1,358 words; about a 7 minute read

"Computer, load program KMRT-32," Kellian said as the holodeck doors shut behind him. The arch tweeted. Before Kellian's eyes a young man appeared wearing jeans, a navy blue t-shirt emblazoned with the words, "The reverie alone will do, if bees are few." and scuffed-up sneakers--though the guy who'd worn them had always called them trainers. The t-shirt message was randomly generated every time. A beat-up brown sofa that looked like it had once graced some college dormitory common room also appeared, as well as a glass jar on the floor with several small, silver coins in it. On the jar was a square of yellow paper that read, 'Psychological Help--5p. The Doctor is In.'

"Hello, Rafe," Kellian said. He dropped a coin into the jar and flopped onto the sofa.

The hologram of Rafael Thomas, his best friend from college, looked about the holodeck, which was unadorned save for couch and jar, and rolled its eyes as Kellian deposited the nickel. "Oh, my God, this again. Why don't you find real people to play with?"

"I do," Kellian said, "but today I wanted to talk to you. 'Needed' would be more accurate." He was glad to see that the 'reality check' part of Rafe's programming remained intact, even with the starbase's power malfunctions. Rafe had designed the program to never let Kellian forget that the room was a holodeck and that the Rafe he spoke to wasn't real--a fact for which Kellian felt unendingly grateful. The thought of losing himself in a holodeck fantasy or of wanting to do that made his skin crawl.

"It's nice to feel needed." Rafe joined Kellian on the sofa and mimed a yawn. "So, why are we here today?"

Kellian grimaced. "I had to look at a corpse this afternoon."

Rafe's blue eyes went wide as saucers beneath his mop of brownish-reddish, curly hair. "No shit, Sherlock! A corpse? Really? And what's your job again? Oh, yes, criminal investigator. You're in the wrong profession if you can't bear looking at corpses, you silly bloke."

"It wasn't that! The damned doctor showed off the guy's junk. He'd been...I don't know. Maybe trying to cancel out the pain in his feet." Kellian shuddered. "I hope it wasn't something somebody else did to him."

Holo-Rafe winced. "I forebear from imagining how sore the man's feet must have been, to warrant...Okay, I'll admit, that idea does make me rather, um, queasy. I don't need details, thanks."

"Wasn't planning to give you any," Kellian shot back. "I'd like to un-see it. I just hate the invasion of privacy, you know? What if someone had done that to Mom? Showed her off like that, I mean?"

"There wasn't enough left of your Mum to show off. And besides, the bloke is dead, so no invasion of privacy is possible. He's not around to care."

"Fuck that! I care. If they had done an autopsy on Mom like that--"

"They did do an autopsy on her."

"You know what I mean! If there'd been enough left to--"

Rafe sighed. "If her body had been whole they wouldn't have commented on her pelvic area save to note that she'd given birth once. And even if there had been something else remarkable, her privacy wouldn't have been invaded. You're upset because you feel your privacy was invaded. Come on, mate. You've worked a sexual assault case or two before, and they didn't affect you like this. What was different today?"

"Today, the doctor performing the autopsy looked kind of like Mom--tall, slender, dark hair, although Mom's was shorter and brown, not long and black," Kellian said. "All of a sudden, I felt as if I was ten years old again and not wanting to see that kind of stuff. I still feel as if I'm ten--that upset--and I hate it. I am 29 years old, Rafe. I should be past this. But--you know how you can be fine for days, weeks, even, and then it hits you like a sledgehammer from out of nowhere? It doesn't happen as often as it used to, but I'm getting tired of it."

"Have you considered going to see a real Counselor instead of one who hasn't earned his doctorate yet?"

Kellian sighed. "You earned your doctorate two years after you wrote this program; you're legit. As for seeing a real counselor...I'm supposed to, by the end of this month. But he's a Betazoid. I can't be honest with him, and he'll know the second I start to lie. It'll raise questions I must not answer. And God only knows what that will do to my career."

"Sucks to be you!" holo-Rafe scoffed. "Go see the bloke, anyway. Have you ever considered, I don't know...telling him there are some questions you will not answer truthfully?"

"The whole point of counseling is to be honest, isn't it?" Kellian retorted. "Why would I even go into that situation, knowing it would be pointless?"

"So be as honest as you can be. As a Counselor, I would appreciate that. Sure, I'd have questions. I'd be no end of curious. But I'd think a Betazoid would be able to tell you're not a criminal, and that's really all he would care about, regarding your secrets."

"I'll think about it."

"Do more than think, Kellian," holo-Rafe said, his tone suddenly deadly serious. "I told you when I gave you this programme that it would not last forever if you used the psych subroutine past a certain point, that it's not meant to be your permanent place to hide. It's meant only to give you an outlet to be yourself. You used the psych subroutine a lot, just now. It sounds to me like you're having some grief issues."

Kellian rolled his eyes. "I'm always going to have grief issues, Rafe. That kind of thing doesn't just go away. Please don't self-deactivate the program. You're the only person I've told everything to--which I wouldn't have done if I hadn't been drunk off my ass that night. I only use the program when I'm upset about something."

"My point exactly," Rafe said. "I'm trying to decide if it's a good thing that you're going out and seeing people and learning to be the you that you have to be now, or if it's bad that you're not taking time to be the real you."

"Real people are still better than holograms, right?" Kellian countered.

Holo-Rafe nodded.

"That's the yardstick you gave me, and it's the one I'm using. Maybe, to be me, I have to integrate the me I was with the me I am now. But, yeah, point taken. I've got to see the Betazoid guy, anyway."

"You'd better," holo-Rafe said. "And what about drinking?"

"I still don't touch the stuff," Kellian said. "It scared the crap out of me when I realized what I'd told you. I can't afford to be that loose-lipped again, ever--at least as long as Dad's still alive."

Rafe nodded. "Smart bloke. Though I really think the lot your father was involved with have surely got bigger fish to fry, by now."

"I can't take the risk." Kellian sighed as he noticed the time. "I'd better go. Thanks, buddy. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, matey, and thanks for the beer money. Why the hell didn't I programme a couple of pints on end-tables for us, in the first place?"

"I don't know. I'll have to ask the real you about that the next time I write him. It's the only flaw in an otherwise brilliant program."

* * *

Star-speckled sky like
Salt in a wound.
Ignore the feeling; exult in the beauty.
Grass as tousled as my hair.
Waves dance the salty stars toward me
In ceaseless repetition,
Giving me chance after chance
To respond.

Advance forever, salty stars.
Ache in me rawly; I don't care.
Wash over me, waves, as if I were
Stone in a pond
And just as unmoved.
This moment can last forever,
If I say so.
No matter that darkness continues
To fall.

 

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