Well, our dearest Puck, this is your last chance.
This time, or you are going to tell us everything or no one will believe you anymore.
Well, honestly, in any case, do not worry, you're in good company.
So what? What do you want to say to me? What do you want to say to us?
This time, or you are going to tell us everything or no one will believe you anymore.
Well, honestly, in any case, do not worry, you're in good company.
So what? What do you want to say to me? What do you want to say to us?
Ah, here we go again. However ... however ... I do not know exactly why, but I just think that this time we will be able to know. And to understand. And not only because I was told personally by Puck, or, even worse, by that braggart of my ancestor.
Come on. Let us have confidence.
Let's set off on reading....
Have you read, my friends? The conclusion. THE CONCLUSION!
Come on! COME ON!!
The conclusion
What am I doing here?
Trip, foolish man, what are you looking for? There are no answers to your questions, and there are not even any questions. You are an idiot. It's your brain which is running amuck, don't you understand that? Too much pressure for you, poor little man.
Do not be ridiculous. Go back to engineering, to your reliable engines. They are really trusty, not your mind. Not reality or dreams or... Vulcan girls. Trip, listen to what remains of your melted brain. Go back to... Oh look. Apropos of Vulcan girls.
Mh, nothing to do. Whatever the circumstance, I won't ever able to give up. If there's even the slightest possibility to take her by surprise... When will I be capable of growing? Oh well. The temptation is too alluring. She doesn't seem to have noticed my presence. I might be able to catch her off guard. It's... amusing... when I manage to do that.
I call her slightly loud. "Hey, T'Pol."
Oh holy mackerel! I am the worst ass that can there be! At the exact moment that I call her, I realize why she is here, just like me, in the corridor which leads to Sickbay. She simply preceded me. She was standing before the Sickbay door, firm, looking at it, as if unable to decide whether to come in, as I would have done, if I had been the one to arrive first.
She turns quickly and fixes me with those dark and large eyes of hers.
My God! If they have been dangerously appealing at breakfast, now they are terribly enchanting, now that surprise is opening them wide - surprise and something else... a nuance of... of embarrassment. Yes. It shines through them and makes them even more entrancing.
A Vulcan who displays embarrassment and even a tiny bit of shame. Incredible. But I have become aware today that T'Pol is a very special Vulcan, no doubt about that. I am sure I'm not deceiving myself because I know why she is here. And I know that she knows that I know.
She is here for the same reason as me.
And, sure as hell, her Vulcan mind is waging a big war against the illogic of her behaviour.
I approach and halt in front of her. She raises her face to watch mine and her eyes don't leave mine, as if she wanted to sustain my look while vainly trying to appear deadpan. And because of that, because of the fight I am able to see in them, they sparkle even more enchantingly, damnit!
Oh come on, man! Don't you think you should try to get her to relax? After all, we are friends, aren't we?
I speak softly, being careful not to invade her space, even if we are very close and...well... even if she doesn't withdraw.
"Excuse me, T'Pol. I didn't want to frighten you."
"Vulcans don't..."
I chuckle, interrupting her well-known refrain. "Sure, sure, I know. Well, in this case, excuse me twice."
Then, I become serious. "Are you well, Sub-Commander?"
That hint of shame and of embarrassment in her eyes seems to grow, as if she was aware of her insecure appearance, and as if my question had revealed to her that I recognized her incertitude.
But, hey! Damn! Since when am I so able to decrypt T'Pol's feelings? Once I thought that she hadn't any feelings, the imbecile that I was. And now... Oh bah, never mind. A true gentleman mustn't let a woman be embarrassed, and even more if this woman is T'Pol and if this gentleman is me, because... because... Oh, for Pete's sake! After all we have a date!
I try to settle the situation. "T'Pol, I meant you are here before the door of Sickbay. So maybe you have something, who knows."
I don't know if I am a good liar, but surely she is not.
Her voice appears quiet, but I am sure she is not feeling quiet. "Commander, I have a headache."
Oh well, she is not a good liar, that's for certain, but to make up for it, I am an idiot. "T'Pol, I didn't know that Vulcans suffered from headaches." The worse of the idiots! What a really good way to soothe her discomfort.
I open my mouth to say something intelligent and she decides to show me my idiocy, in all its extent.
I think nobody can combat against a Vulcan female who is learning, with all the Vulcan cleverness of her, to return like for like.
Her eyes shine almost cheerfully as she speaks. "Commander, and you? Are you here because you have indigestion? No, too early I think. So. You have injured yourself, haven't you, in the end?"
Bravo, my dear Chief Engineer, bravo. Did you want to smooth her supposed solitude? So, now pick up the outcome of your sowing.
The best defence is attack. I am finally able to understand the meaning of this Human saying. Do you want to catch me in the act, as you are in the habit of saying, my dear Commander? Okay, and I return to you tit for tat.
Tit for tat?
Suddenly I become aware of my thoughts. Of my words.
Of my acts.
There's something else beyond my increasing acquaintance with humans, with... with the Commander. There's the reason, the illogical and still pressing reason which compelled me to come here to the Sickbay.
The same reason which pushed him.
I lower my eyes for a brief instant, then I lift them to his. I don't want to hide my concern. And my disquiet. I want to be honest with the Commander. With... with Trip. He... yes... he deserves that.
I think... I think that the other T'Pol, the T'Pol of my dream, was wiser than me, in some respects.
Tit for tat?
Suddenly I become aware of my thoughts. Of my words.
Of my acts.
There's something else beyond my increasing acquaintance with humans, with... with the Commander. There's the reason, the illogical and still pressing reason which compelled me to come here to the Sickbay.
The same reason which pushed him.
I lower my eyes for a brief instant, then I lift them to his. I don't want to hide my concern. And my disquiet. I want to be honest with the Commander. With... with Trip. He... yes... he deserves that.
I think... I think that the other T'Pol, the T'Pol of my dream, was wiser than me, in some respects.
But if the outcome of my sowing is this look from her... well, Trip... you should practise farming.
Suddenly I become aware - really aware - of my thoughts. Of my words. Of my acts.
And of hers.
I stop behaving like the eternal child I want to appear. She is clearly indicating that she is relying on me, that she has lowered her barriers. And I must be honest with the Sub-Commander. With... my T'Pol, the T'Pol who I am beginning to know. She... yes... she deserves that.
I think... I think that the other Trip, the Trip of my dream, was wiser than me, in some respects.
"T'Pol, don't you think we should stop delaying?" I know perfectly well that she knows perfectly well what I mean.
Suddenly I become aware - really aware - of my thoughts. Of my words. Of my acts.
And of hers.
I stop behaving like the eternal child I want to appear. She is clearly indicating that she is relying on me, that she has lowered her barriers. And I must be honest with the Sub-Commander. With... my T'Pol, the T'Pol who I am beginning to know. She... yes... she deserves that.
I think... I think that the other Trip, the Trip of my dream, was wiser than me, in some respects.
"T'Pol, don't you think we should stop delaying?" I know perfectly well that she knows perfectly well what I mean.
I nod. Be that as it may, we must know.
I nod at her nod, while I keep on smiling. Then I become serious and I look at the button which activates the door to the Sickbay. I push it and the door opens silently. I turn toward T'Pol, waiting for her. She nods again and moves in unison with me.
We enter the Sickbay together, side by side.
The lights are low inside and all is quiet, except that the sound of a voice. Our attention is drawn by it. It comes from Phlox's usual workspace and the doctor is sitting there with his back toward us. He looks... tousled and is still wearing his nightclothes. Strangely, he doesn't seem to have noticed our entrance. He appears to be totally absorbed in listening to that voice.
It is his own voice. It's a recording.
We halt and listen to the words coming from the computer system. We can only hear the last phrases.
"... because you need to be aware of its real value and of its possible limits, considering that many other doctors might use it in circumstances perhaps similar to those I've had to face.
Extremely Distinguished Professor, it's my unquestionable and irrefutable opinion that, if your treatise was printed on paper like it was in the past, and if the paper was sufficiently fine, and if better and more sophisticated devices weren't already in use in the lavatories, the most proper use for your work wouldn't have been the reading.
Please, may you receive my most dutiful greetings.
Your devoted admirer, Doctor Phlox."
I am unable to understand, and neither does T'Pol. The look she shoots to me, as I threw a quick glance at her, clearly shows the confusion she feels.
We again direct our attention to the doctor.
He is still engrossed.
For some moments everything is silent, and the doctor seems as immovable as a statue.
Then he moves slowly and, without getting up, turns his face towards us.
I feel a hand grasping mine. It's T'Pol's hand.
I don't feel any amazement at her gesture.
No.
I return her grip, staring intensely at the doctor's visage.
A thunderstruck expression is painted on it. He gazes at us, mouth closed, without saying a word.
He looks at us with his stunned and wide open eye.
The only eye able to watch us.
The other cannot.
It's black and half-shut.
We enter the Sickbay together, side by side.
The lights are low inside and all is quiet, except that the sound of a voice. Our attention is drawn by it. It comes from Phlox's usual workspace and the doctor is sitting there with his back toward us. He looks... tousled and is still wearing his nightclothes. Strangely, he doesn't seem to have noticed our entrance. He appears to be totally absorbed in listening to that voice.
It is his own voice. It's a recording.
We halt and listen to the words coming from the computer system. We can only hear the last phrases.
"... because you need to be aware of its real value and of its possible limits, considering that many other doctors might use it in circumstances perhaps similar to those I've had to face.
Extremely Distinguished Professor, it's my unquestionable and irrefutable opinion that, if your treatise was printed on paper like it was in the past, and if the paper was sufficiently fine, and if better and more sophisticated devices weren't already in use in the lavatories, the most proper use for your work wouldn't have been the reading.
Please, may you receive my most dutiful greetings.
Your devoted admirer, Doctor Phlox."
I am unable to understand, and neither does T'Pol. The look she shoots to me, as I threw a quick glance at her, clearly shows the confusion she feels.
We again direct our attention to the doctor.
He is still engrossed.
For some moments everything is silent, and the doctor seems as immovable as a statue.
Then he moves slowly and, without getting up, turns his face towards us.
I feel a hand grasping mine. It's T'Pol's hand.
I don't feel any amazement at her gesture.
No.
I return her grip, staring intensely at the doctor's visage.
A thunderstruck expression is painted on it. He gazes at us, mouth closed, without saying a word.
He looks at us with his stunned and wide open eye.
The only eye able to watch us.
The other cannot.
It's black and half-shut.
*****************************************************************
Well, my friends. You can not tell me that I did not warn you.
Surely this story, which - as I have said at the beginning - is word by word what my ancestor wrote in his own hand, is very strange and leaves open a lot of questions.
Well, Asso - you might say - it is not anything but a story, a joke.
Sure, sure. A joke.
But ...
If it were true - if it were true - it would explain a lot of things on that infamous television episode that would otherwise remain wholly inexplicable.
Not that I want to repeat, but, for example, the behaviour of the Captain, even more boyish than usual. That of the doctor ...
Yeah, the doctor.
But that black eye ... then it was a dream or not? Eh sure, because in the end, Trip and T'Pol - the Trip and T'Pol who (apparently) are the real Trip and T'Pol, those ones who seems to have dreamed that they were the other two Trip and T'Pol, those ones (apparently) not real - realize that Phlox, that black eye, he has it for real.
But then, who caused it to him? And when? Where? In some other reality where the two of them are already ... well, you understand what I mean.
But then is it possible that that other reality - the reality made of dreams - has got intersected with the true reality? The one in which our two lovebirds are still not together?
And if so, why ?
For what purpose? If a purpose exists.
Who wanted this?
Hey hey, Asso! Do not overdo it! It is a story, a fanfiction, after all.
Oh you're right, my friends. (He he. Maybe).
But, remember what I told you at the beginning, about the mysteries that lie in space.
And - if you like it - follow me, a moment longer. Listen to what he has yet to say, our ineffable Puck.
It seems that my ancestor was hanging around with this Puck quite often (who knows why? Mah!)
"Which mocks logic and minds, Which bilks the wayfarers. But can show the right road, If you are able to listen to it."
Have you heard, my friends? Have you heard, Trip and T'Pol?
But that's not all! Let us listen to a little longer.
Who could ever be the one to whom our Puck wants to allude? Let's hear it.
Mh ... I know these verses. they have been written by a guy. A playwright. Quite famous.
Sh ... sho ... sha ... Shak ... Shake ... Shakesp ... Shakesp ... Damn! I can not remember!
Let's listen to Puck, just a bit yet.
I am
Oh, hell!
Here we go, again.
Useless. The master of dreams here, the master of dreams there ...
And nothing else!
You know what I tell you? I tell you: Go to hell, Puck!
And do not try to apologize, do not dare!
Do you agree with me, you two? Hey, I'm talking to you. Are you listening to me? Trip, T'Pol! HEY!
Did you fall in a trance? What do you have?
Why do you look at him with that disoriented and disconcerted air?
Why do you look at him with that disoriented and disconcerted air?
What is he telling you? Eh? WHAT?
Ah, fine excuses! Really!
A "divertissement"? This story, this "tale", as you, dear Puck, call it, is nothing more than a "divertissement"? Oh thank you! Thank you, my dear! Well, your apologies are not enough! And it is useless for you to make your apologies in the words of Shakespeare (thanks, however, to have enlightened my fleeting memory).
And then, I (and my friends and readers) do not believe that.
"Divertissement" my ass!
You're the one who had fun! You played with our beloved Trip and T'Pol! You ...
Wait a minute! What's that you said? Before, I mean. Not now, with your ridiculous excuses. You said that you are...
...an unaccountable space freak,
Which skips and which turns,
Which mocks logic and minds.
Which bilks the wayfarers
But can show the right road,
If you are able to listen to it.
Oh, damn it! I get it! You wanted to show our two lovebirds their route, the road that they will inevitably follow. You wanted to tell them: Stop it! Enough dancing around each other! You two are in love and, whether you realize it or not, you two will end up together. Indeed, you two are already ended up together. In your dreams. That perhaps are anything but dreams.
Well, frankly, you have chosen a goddam twisty course to do it!
But, on the other hand, what else can be expected from you? From the Puck you are?
Oh, by the way. Do you know, my friends? This Puck has a face damnedly resembling to that of that liar of my ancestor.
And - do you know? - my ancestor was very resembling to me.
You don't believe it?
Well, for what it's worth...
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COPYRIGHT 2013 © Asso - [email protected]
COPYRIGHT 2013 © Asso - [email protected]