The Past and the Future

Posted on 31 Dec 2014 @ 11:03pm by Lieutenant Oren Idris Ph.D. & Lieutenant JG Kalos Jang Ph.D.

3,149 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Episode 07 - Sojourn
Location: Starbase 84, Antique book store
Timeline: MD15 - 1400 Hours

[ON]

Although Oren considered himself a man of the modern world and would dismiss the notion that his profession has made him nostalgic under threat of mutilation, there was just something to be said about the silence and isolation of an antique store. There were no flashing screens other than the clerks interface, and the only humming noise came from beneath them instead of the vast array of machinery that seemed to cover everything else on the station (and everywhere else). If it wasn't a comm panel, it was a currency exchange station, and if it wasn't that, it was another damn comm panel, as if the only satisfaction in life could be derived from talking to others. That was a philosophy Oren was very much against in his current state of mind. 'Why should I need anyone?' he told himself with a bitter expression forming on his youthful face. 'They all always leave anyway. Why should I care? I'm totally fine on my own and my brain just knows it.'

He glanced down at Landi, who was looking up at her master from her place at his side. 'At least I have you,' Oren though. For a little while, anyway.

He continue the mental debate as he scrolled through the bookstore's inventory through yet another interface, vaguely wondering in the back of his head just how much profit someone made when they made the first one. He made a mental note to read up on it.

Although the majority of the books in the store were digital, filling shelves upon shelves of paDD from differen't eras, Oren was on the lookout for something specific and was first making his way through old, paper copies. Just in case. As he scrolled through haphazardly, he came across several files he couldn't access.

"Excuse me," he told the clerk. "Some of your inventory seems to be locked away. Is there a problem?"

"Oh," the Rigelian began, looking at the control panel in front. "That is for mature customers only." Oren frowned.

"I am a mature customer," he said, though his voice lacked the conviction one would expect at such an accusation.

"Do you have identification?"

Oren deflated. "No..." he sighed, defeated. In his hurry to not stay in one place alone for too long, he'd accidentally left his quarters without any ID. He decided against going back, instead continuing to look through the inventory.

Kal wasn't really the type to go looking for paper books. He always liked reading, but the digital reader on his PADD was certainly good enough for him. Everything he ever wanted to read at the push of a button. Richard Stark's Parker series, from Old Earth, back when it was interesting? There. The chilly Andorian crime tragedies of Shrath? Push a button. The dry, intellectual and philosophical mysteries of the Vulcan author T'Vala? No problem.

However, when he was growing up, his father endlessly expounded the virtue of books as art, as hard copies being something to be proud of and adding value to the work as a whole. It wasn't something you got by just converting the words into bits of data and beaming them every which way. Kal wasn't convinced, but he tried his dad's way every now and again.

He'd been perusing some paperback books when he overheard Oren's exchange with the clerk and couldn't help but look over. Kal was in his civilian clothes, as he often preferred when he wasn't working. He was wearing a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a pair of charcoal gray pants. Something about Oren looked familiar, and then he recalled seeing him around the department. "Sorry," Kal said to him. "Aren't you on the Galileo?"

Oren looked up at the voice, or more precisely, it's owner. He smiled instictively at the man before replying. "Yes. Oren Idris," he introduced himself, proceeding blush slightly. "I'm sorry. You look familiar, but..." He shrugged helplessly, unable to place the tall man.

"Kalos Jang," Kal replied, still holding one of the books he was looking at. "I'm in Nanoengineering. Call me Kal. I think I've seen you around the department. What's in the mature section you're looking for?"

Oren glanced down at the terminal again. "I'm looking into body modification and the literature on scarification seems to be censored because of the illustrations and images," he explained with a small shrug. "But it's not a big deal," he clarified. He'd just been curious about new techniques.

"Scarification? I've known some guys who did that. It can look cool, so long as you know what you're doing. I knew a guy who had a playing card scarred on his wrist, because he liked to gamble, right? Ace up his sleeve. Awful. But, anyway, he got this friend of his to do it and they nicked an artery. Stupidest thing I ever saw."

"Yeah, it's best to avoid places too close to the bone like that. I had a scarification tattoo on my back, but I heal really well, so it looked so bad I had to remove it and just go for the classic ink," Oren explained, wincing at the mental picture of Jang's friend's arm turning into a fountain.

"I'm thinking of getting a new one, so I just wanted to look through some books for inspiration."

Kal nodded, thinking. It seemed stupid for a Starfleet officer of all people to not be allowed to look at some books because of a technicality. "You got your combadge on you?"

"Not if I can help it," Oren replied off-handedly. He never carried his combadge around. It was like having a giant beacon on you, letting the higher ups know exactly where you were and if there was one thing Oren hated, it was someone watching over him, even if it was as indirectly as through motion tracking.

"I only wear it on duty and even then it's usually in my pocket."

"Ah. Well. I was hoping he'd take that as proof of ID, but I guess it's not in the cards today. Too bad I don't have my fake ID equipment, anymore. I'd hook you right up."

Oren smiled, suddenly a bit more intrigued by this new breed of Starfleet officer. "Well, I already have one of those too, unfortunately, I'm very forgetful these days," he explained.

"So, you're new," the El-Aurian said, turning to completely face the other man. "What do you do?"

As usual, when given the chance to mention his work, Kal perked up. "Nanoengineering. Just got onboard. What about you?"

"Wow," Oren said first with a wide grin. "We are literally in opposite fields. I'm an Archaeologist and Anthropologist," he explained, taking in the man from the top of his head down to his shoes, noting every detail. It was a habit that he didn't mind much anymore, even if it did make certain people uncomfortable.

Kal wasn't sure for a second if he was being checked out or if Oren was just thorough in meeting new people. "Anthropology, really? That's cool. I read all kinds of old books." He raised the novel he'd been looking at. "Fiction, that's about all I really know about history. You're the guy that knows what it was all really like though, huh?"

"So I like people to think," Oren said with a small smile. "I've never been one for fiction, I like non-fiction, memoirs, autobiographies. Of course, I do indulge in the occasional trashy novel, but who doesn't?" He shrugged his shoulders before taking a step towards Kal. "You're not Human, right?" he asked suddenly.

"Uh, no, I'm not. I know I kinda look it. My mother was Halanan and my father was Farian. They sort of offset some of the characteristic physical traits of each others' races. I used to get mixed up for human sometimes. I used to get into fights all the time over that. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. You don't sound Human when you talk, so I wanted to know. I do understand the fights, intellectually anyway. Getting mistaken for Human is so annoying. Who knew one tiny planet could cause so much trouble, right?" Oren rolled his eyes. He really disliked being mistaken for Human, even if it was occasionally humorous.

"I know, right? I mean, every human I've met, they've all been cool. Good people. But...Earth is just...if a planet could be designated a color, Earth would be beige. It was just so boring." Oren looked overwhelmingly human, even moreso than Kal knew he did himself. "Where are you from?"

"I was born on Bajor, but I'm one hundred percent El-Aurian," the young man replied with a smile that made him look very pleased with himself. For all of his dislike of certain aspects of being El-Aurian, he at least liked telling people he was. If only to remind them that, yes, actual full-blooded El-Aurians were still being born.

That took Kal by surprise. "El-Aurian? I've never met an El-Aurian before." He'd heard of the long-lived race that were scattered around the galaxy, but never encountered one before. He wondered if there was a way to ask how old Oren was without sounding like a dick. "I guess you picked the right profession, then," he said, smiling.

"I think it's wired in my DNA to be a be an information hoarder," Oren agreed with a small laugh. "Hey, can I buy you a drink? Seems like the right thing to do for the new guy. Granted, I can't buy you an alcoholic drink without my ID, but you get the idea." He grinned, motioning to the door in invitation.

"Sure," Kal said. "What the hell, I'm down for that." He paid for the book he'd found and slipped the paperback novel in his pocket as they walked out. "You been serving on the ship for very long?"

"I've been on the manifest for almost two standard months, but technically, I've been on the ship only about two weeks. Before we left the Lyshan system, I had to go to Bajor, so I wasn't on the ship during transit," Oren explained as the headed out onto the promenade, Landi eagerly following her master and his new friend.

"What do you say we get the drinks up at the top of the promenade?" Oren looked up for unnecessary emphasis. "I bet the view is great from up there." Without really waiting for a reply, he was already heading to the turbolift.

"Sure. Haven't tried that before." They got in the turbolift and started up. The lift hummed softly as it shot up towards the top of the promenade. "How do you like working on the Galileo?"

"It's alright," Oren said with a shrug, leaning back on the wall of the turbolift. "My job is pretty solitary though and my field has more in common with the Diplomats than the other scientists, but I try to help out in the Science department where I can," he explained, pushing himself off the wall to rock a bit on his feet, restless.

"I'm sure you'll have much more contact with the others than I do," he supplied, unsure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Despite his love for spending time with others, Oren preferred to work alone, without someone lurking over him. A weekly report was about as much contact with his superiors as he could handle without getting anxious and annoyed.

"I don't know about that," Kal said. "I've always been a bit of a solitary worker, you know? I do what I do and I like it that way. I mean, finding research ideas and collaborating on applications, that's no problem. But once it comes down to design and fabrication, I wouldn't mind if they opened a wormhole into a pocket dimension where I could be by myself."

"I think that's where our two fields may be the same. They're both fields about which other people pretend to know more about that you," Oren pointed out with a smirk. "Except I imagine people are fearful about your field, while with mine, they tend to be very condescending."

"Well, you're just dealing with a bunch of dusty relics. It's not like a real job, is it?" Kal smiled, glancing at Oren out of the side of his eye with the joke.

"Yeah, no, I just play around with old pots and pans. I'm not plotting the future devastation of all society, like you," Oren said back, returning the smile knowingly.

"It's okay. You lack ambition, that's all. We need people to play in the mud, I guess." The turbolift doors opened and they stepped out. "Keeps you out of the way when the adults are working."

The shorter man chuckled, following Kal out of the lift. "Is that what you call it? Making tiny robots that'll end up murdering all of us," he jabbed.

"See, I like to think that they'll actually be improving you. Making you better than just all that smelly meat that you are. I will, of course, have control over the entire ship by the end of the month. Nonessential personnel like yourself will be jettisoned, unfortunately, but you can't make an omelet without exposing a few eggs to the vacuum of space."

Oren laughed then, unable to help it. "You're ridiculous," he said, shaking his head. "I like you, Kal. You'll fit right in as we all tend to be a little ridiculous." 'Some more ridiculous than other' Oren added mentally, thinking of Kohl's change in position.

"I'll take it," he said. "Good to know where you fit in." Kal looked down at the canine on a leash that Oren was leading and nodded. "So, uh, what do you got there?"

Oren looked down at Landi, as if noticing her for the first time. "Oh, that's Landi. She's an Irish Wolfhound. Earth breed." To give Kal a closer look, he reached down and lifted the dog up into his arms, noting the big difference in weight compared to the last time he'd done so. Soon enough, he knew, carrying her around would be impossible even if he was a larger, stronger man.

"Cute," he said. "Does she help you dig out your fossils?" They walked into a small cafe on the top level of the Starbase promenade, overlooking the people walking amongst the shops. Aliens of all moved along the few different levels of shops on the promenade. Kal was used to that, to seeing more aliens than his people. Even on Farius, Farians were far outnumbered by the alien populations. "I'd be worried she might chew up the artifacts, myself, but you know your business better than me."

"I'm not worried while she's still this young," Oren explained, putting her down again. "Besides, I rarely take her into work." He followed Kal's eyes to the crowd, observing everyone. "Fascinating isn't it? How, despite growing up on different worlds, everyone seems to blend together."

"Yeah," Kal said. "Good thing they invented the universal translator, or else everybody might be down there getting in fights all the time. Can you imagine talking to a Klingon without any clue what he's saying? Just positive you're five seconds away from being stabbed based solely on inflection. Now we know he's just saying, 'I'm going to stab you in five seconds.'" Kal smiled as the two men looked out over the crowd. "What made you decide to become a space anthropologist?"

Not taking his eyes off the crowd, Oren answered. "To tell you the truth, it was pretty immature of me. When I was a boy I met an anthropologist on the colony I lived on. He'd wanted to learn more about El-Aurians and, at the time, there was what I assume is a record amount on the colony. Which was four El-Aurians," Oren revealed. He knew it probably sounded silly, but four El-Aurians in one place were very rare nowadays.

"Naturally, he left with almost no information because no one wanted to speak to him but me, and I wasn't a very good subject because I knew next to nothing about what it actually means to be El-Aurian. I still don't," he admitted, following a Bajoran man juggling a large case and two toddlers down the promenade.

"So he told me stories about other races and, while I couldn't understand most of it since I didn't speak much Federation Standard, I still knew they were nice stories. His job seemed wonderful, traveling around, meeting new races, learning about their culture. My outlook was very immature back then so it all just looked like one big adventure," Oren continued to explain, smiling at the memory of the old man. He'd tried to find him once at Univeristy through different channels, but soon learned that he'd passed away. It made Oren regret not helping him with his research. Perhaps he could've done more to persuade his grandmother and her friends to speak with him.

"As for why I stayed an anthropologist, it just feels natural. I love people, and their similarities. Their differences even moreso. I think we all seem to focus too much on finding common ground when we should be focusing on those differences and learning from them. No accepting all of them, of course," Oren admitted with a small shrug. "But seeing a new perspective. No is wrong in their beliefs, it's all just a different side of one big story. I guess my point is that that is what anthropology is to me. Learning different pieces of one big story and then piecing it all together."

"You make it sound romantic," Kal said. "Traveling from world to world and assembling history, talking to different aliens." Kal smiled and drummed a little on the railing before them. "I love this stuff, man! Space stuff. Listen to us, talking about traveling planets and getting into their cultures and making machines and flying at the speed of light. It's an awesome gig, isn't it?"

Oren smiled in response to Kal's enthusiasm. While he did share it to some degree, he'd come to find that the excitement wore off after some time.

"I'll see how you feel after fifty years," he told him with an easy smile.

Kal smiled back at that. He'd heard El-Aurians were a very long-lived species, but Oren easily looked younger than him. Once Kal saw his eyes, they were a little different, though. Definitely older. "Come on, then, old man. Let's get that drink in you before you tell me about the good old days."

[OFF]

Oren Idris, Ph.D.
Archaeologist/Anthropologist
USS Galileo

Lieutenant JG Kalos Jang
Nanoengineer
USS Galileo

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