I want to change the world; instead I sleep

Posted on 29 Aug 2013 @ 8:29am by Commander Andreus Kohl

681 words; about a 3 minute read

Andreus Kohl's Personal Log, supplemental entry.

I wasn't raised within any particular faith. My parents-- my adoptive parents-- each came from vastly differing worlds. There are fundamental contradictions in each of their people's ancient belief systems. I can't really imagine how they would have tried to teach me a coherent fusion of their two. Really though, I can't imagine they would have tried, since they both see the universe from a particularly secular bent. They raised me to be open, to discover for myself what I choose to believe in.

And then my mother-- my biological mother-- is categorically the opposite of those two. Her entire life, her every waking hour, lies within the Temple of Whereness. She's never known any other kind of life. My genealogy studies suggest her family line --my family line -- were always in service of the temple, back to before the Great Awakening. The Temple of Whereness has fallen to little more than fringe religion with few believers beyond those who support the infrastructure of the temple. I had never even heard of it until I discovered my mother's identity.

I'm trying to apply a meditation technique she taught me. I'm breathing. I'm listening to my breathing. I'm shutting out all noise except for the sound of my lungs filling and exhaling. I am filling myself with awareness of my body and my mind in the present moment, with no regard for past state or future state. But. But it's still out there. Creeping along the edges of the dark. There's a lot of past state and future state to ignore.

There was something there. There was something unfathomable down there, in the dark of the caves, on the third moon of Rojar two. A creature? A trans-dimensional super-entity? I don't know. I don't remember. I probably don't want to remember. I can't talk to Cho about it; she's completely shattered about a friend being reassigned. And Liyar's left too. But at least the dreams are fading.

There was that... other thing too. It hurts, it actually physically hurts, to try to form the words. It's like there's a lump in my throat and a stone in my lungs. My... demotion? My career implosion? Starfleet Medical overriding Captain Saalm's decision to promote me to Chief Medical Officer, in favour of someone with command experience?

It's not just the sword through my ego. There is that. That is a part of it. A large and sizeable part of it. It makes me question why I try to so hard to be professional at work. Why I sublimate my personality for hours at a time in the hope for more discs of metal on my collar. Can they be worth it? Is any of it worth it? I didn't come to Galileo for career advancement. I'm not working in a hospital with career breathing room; I'm supposed to be finding a life for myself. Or at least coming to terms with the life that I have.

And also, there were the plans. The changes I wanted to bring to Sickbay. We need more community; we need to be on the same side, and better aligned with the life sciences division, and the counsellors. But I need to stop. But I need to breathe. Keep breathing. I need awareness of my body and my mind in the present; no more thoughts of the future; no more thoughts of the past.

It's the only way. It's the only way I'll get through this. I need to breathe and I need to focus. I need to stay on my feet. I need to be alert in the present, aware of the present state. They're counting on me. All that matters is... right... now. I need to patch them up -- the crew -- I need to keep them on their feet, while they strive to discover what destroyed the Venture.

And they try to ensure the same what doesn't destroy Galileo.

Computer, end log.

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