The Little Brown Shack Downstairs

Posted on Fri 8th Nov, 2019 @ 8:02pm by Elizabeth Anderson M.D.
Edited on on Fri 8th Nov, 2019 @ 9:45pm

793 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: Brown Sector, Deck 2445
Timeline: Backstory, Approximately 30 days past

Having stared at the wall long enough, without changing even a speck of dust, Elizabeth rose to her feet in sudden decision. She'd found many admirable qualities in humans. She'd found wonderful and amazing talents and secret goodness in them. One thing she deplored was their ability to ignore things they didn't want to know about. Now that she'd read about Brown Sector, she had to see it for herself. There was almost nothing in the database, other than bare facts about who had come, when, and why.

It was all very well to record successive migrations of refugees coming in, and it was quite likely that they were better off, at the time, than where they had escaped, but what about now? Were they still better off down in the depths of what Anderson thought of as the city? Or were there better places for them? How were they living down at the bottom of the starbase? She knew that basic supplies were sent down in sufficient quantities, but ... was that all people needed? She had to find the answers to her questions, and having no further appointments today, this was the time to see for herself.

"Computer, what kind of clothing is considered acceptable on deck 2445?"

=^=Clothing is rarely replicated on deck 2445. What has been requisitioned has either been one-piece work uniforms of brown, or mid-calf shifts of brown, black or gray. Knee length tunics in the same colors have been ordered, sometimes in mustard or burgundy. Few colors are evident from the past three decades.=^=

Anderson was surprised. She knew it was called brown sector, but colors didn't cost more to make. If people weren't getting their clothing from the replicator, where were they getting it? Another question to check into.

"Very well. A shift in gray with a tunic in burgundy. You have my measurements, so please deliver to my replicator." Elizabeth couldn't seem to remember that she didn't have to say please and thank you to the computer. On the other hand, she was considered little more than a computer by some, and she appreciated the courtesies.

=^=Two items delivered to Elizabeth Anderson, bedroom replicator. Account charged.=^=

So keep the clothes in good condition, doctor, she reminded herself, entering the bedroom and removing the clothing from the machine. She rubbed the fabric between her hands. Not smooth, nor was it particularly rough. Changing clothes quickly, she noted that the tunic had straps that went over the shoulder, and should fasten in front, but there were no buttons, nor buttonholes. Nor were there sticky bits to cling to each other.

"Computer, how are the straps supposed to fasten to the tunic?" she asked. She knew she could access her own database for the information, but under normal circumstances, she tried to live as much like a biological human as possible. Who knew when it might be important that she be proficient at such things?

=^=Two pins or brooches are required.=^=

"Great. You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?" Elizabeth muttered as she scrounged in her jewelry case.

=^=You did not ask.=^=

With a sigh, the doctor realized the machine was right ... and it was another sign that she had adopted more human traits than she perceived, unless she thought about it specifically. She had nothing in her possession which would work. She'd have to use credits to get them.

"Very well. I'm asking now. Two brooches, matching, silver metal and ..." she paused a moment. Where had the idea come from? "... and put some kind of emblem or artwork one would find on them if they were made in Turkana IV."

=^=Working.=^=

The fasteners took longer than the clothes. Is the extra time because I asked about Turkana IV? Elizabeth wondered. Finally, the replicator chimed, and Elizabeth opened the door, reached in and removed the two pins*. At first, she thought they were stylized flowers, but something was a little off. She turned one over and saw printing on the back. "Here be dragons!"

Turning it back to the front, a soft exclamation sounded in her apartment. "Of course. Dragons, not flowers." After a moment more, she fastened the straps to the tunic with the help of the matching pins. She tucked a few slips of latinum in the front pocket of her tunic and left her apartment, hurrying down the stairs. It was a short walk to the tram that would take her down to the next turbolift.

"Alright, Brown Sector, here I come to find out what you are ... and if you're in need of more than Starfleet is offering you," she muttered, finding a seat.

*Here Be Dragons photo

 

RSS Feed

Comments (2)