You Wanna Learn How to FIGHT,
How to SPEAK-UP and Be BRAVE --
Because Saints
Stand-up for
Themselves
AND OTHERS --
So That They Might
Be HEARD.
BUFFY,
The Vampire Slayer
(and you are...?) :
Hey.
YANA,
Jenny Calendar :
Hi. Uh, is there something that...
Did you want something?
BUFFY,
The Vampire Slayer
(and you are...?) :
Look... I know you feel badly
about What Happened, and
I just Wanted to Say...
Good. Keep it up.
YANA,
Jenny Calendar :
Don't worry, I will.
BUFFY,
The Vampire Slayer
(and you are...?) :
Oh, wait. Um...
He Misses You.
He doesn't say
anything, I mean, but
I know that he does --and
I don't want him to be lonely.
I don't want anyone to.
YANA,
Jenny Calendar :
Buffy, you know that if I have
a chance to make this up...
BUFFY,
The Vampire Slayer
(and you are...?) :
(winces) We're... Good here.
Let's just leave it.
LARIS :
Oh, the cheeky fuckers.
They've overwritten
the particle residuum.
PICARD :
Overwritten it?
LARIS :
Yes. And in a very sophisticated way.
It's barely detectable.
It would read as instrument-failure
if you didn't know better.
But it's not.
It's a flat-out wipe.
PICARD :
Can you recover it?
Uh —
(pretending to ignores The Question,
which she affects not have heard,
The Romulan ex-Spy Mistress
launches herself off into
a seeming Non-Sequituer --)
LARIS :
....have you never noticed the
complete absence of any
form of Artificial Life
in Romulan culture?
We don't have androids or AIs.
We don't study Cybernetics.
Our computers are limited to purely numerical functions.
.....They must have saturated
this place in antileptons.
(...at no small risk to
themselves, by the way.)
This place hasn't just
been cleaned, Admiral.
It's been scrubbed.
PICARD :
Is that to be expected
of your "Zhat Vash"?
LARIS :
Well, they're not
"my" Zhat Vash, and
I thought you didn't
believe in them.
PICARD :
I may be coming around.
So, then all this is about the
Zhat Vash-hatred of androids.
It's not simply hate.
It's Hate and Fear and pure loathing for any form of Synthetic Life.
Why..? That I can't tell you.
I don't know.
But I am certain that is
The Silence That Seals
The Mouths of The Zhat Vash,
as surely and eternally as Death.
The Operatives who did this
wouldn't have wanted
to leave the impression that
the place had been scrubbed.
We may find they've
neglected something,
some actual clue that
lay tucked inside
a false clue, as it were.
PICARD :
Something like this, for example?
There's no record of any
incoming or outgoing calls.
The information's there,
but the indexes have
been surgically deleted.
(scrolling down through The White Noise)
There's no way to sort the data.
Essentially, they've sterilized it,
so that it's qualitatively agnostic.
There's no distinction.
Everything looks
like Everything Else.
LARIS :
What we need is a record of
any contact that
she may have had
PICARD :
-- with Her Sister.
LARIS :
Mm, and no doubt it's in here,
but it will look the same
as everything else.
PICARD :
N-No, it it will look like her.
Like Dahj.
Wh-What's her name?
LARIS :
Um, Dr. Jurati.
She said that they would
be identical twins, right?
PICARD :
Even closer than twins, perhaps.
LARIS :
Okay. So what's the first thing you do
when you bring a new
digital assistant online?
PICARD :
Introduce myself.
LARIS :
Exactly. Computers like Efficiency,
so what a computer does is build heuristics,
shortcuts to the tasks it performs most often.
PICARD :
You're saying that if
they were indistinguishable, then
The Machine, at some point,
could have mistaken
The Sister for Dahj.
Exactly. And if it did, even for
a few seconds before it flagged The Error,
then The Tags might still be in here,
overlooked by even the most
diligent of scrubbers.
[BEEPING.]
Got you.
Okay -- These were all outgoing.
And these were incoming.
PICARD :
It's her.
Ghosts in The Machine.
Can you tell me where she is?
No. But I can tell you where she isn't.
Nonlocal information packets are
routed through subspace relays.
This routing leaves tiny but
unmistakable code marks.
PICARD :
Nonlocal?
I'm saying this transmission
came from off-world.
PICARD :
Are you certain?
Wherever this girl was
calling her sister from,
it's nowhere on Earth.
[Janeway's quarters]
(Janeway is reading a book whilst music plays quietly. The doorbell chimes.)
JANEWAY:
Come in. Are you having a little trouble regenerating?
SEVEN:
My alcove is functioning properly.
I am having trouble with The Nature of Individuality.
JANEWAY :
There's a time and a place for philosophical discussion.
Two in the morning in my quarters isn't one of them.
But I'll tell you what.
Meet me in the mess hall tomorrow.
SEVEN:
Tomorrow will be too late.
We'll have already rewritten The Doctor's programme by then.
JANEWAY:
And violated his rights as An Individual.
SEVEN:
Precisely.
JANEWAY:
If you've come to act as My Conscience, you're a little late.
I considered these issues eighteen months ago,
as I did again this morning.
I came to the same conclusion.
SEVEN:
Your conclusion is wrong.
JANEWAY:
Coffee, black.
(she takes a sip.)
Lukewarm.
Now, I've told that replicator a dozen times
about the temperature of my coffee.
It just doesn't seem to want to listen.
Almost as if it's got a mind of its own.
But it doesn't.
MAYBE IT THINKS HAVING LUKEWARM COFFEE
WOULD BE GOOD FOR YOUR HUMILITY, CAPTAIN.
A replicator operates through a series of electronic pathways
that allow it to receive instructions
and take appropriate action, and there you go.
A cup of coffee, a bowl of soup,
a plasma conduit, whatever we tell it to do.
As difficult as it is to accept,
The Doctor is more like that replicator than he is like us.
SEVEN:
He would disagree.
JANEWAY:
I'm sure he would,
but I can't let that change my decision.
I learned that the hard way
when his programme almost self-destructed.
I won't take that risk again.
SEVEN:
The risk isn't yours to take.
JANEWAY:
If one of my crew chose to put a phaser
to his own head, should I let him?
SEVEN:
It would depend on the situation.
JANEWAY:
It always depends on the situation, Seven,
but we can debate philosophy another time.
SEVEN:
When you separated me from The Collective,
I was an unknown risk to your crew,
yet you kept me on board.
You allowed me to evolve into An Individual.
JANEWAY:
You're a human being.
He's a hologram.
SEVEN:
And you allowed that hologram to evolve as well,
to exceed his original programming.
And yet now you choose to abandon him.
JANEWAY:
Objection noted.
Good night.
SEVEN:
It is unsettling.
You say that I am a human being and yet I am also Borg.
Part of me not unlike your replicator.
Not unlike The Doctor.
Will you one day choose to abandon me as well?
I have always looked to you as my example,
my guide to humanity.
Perhaps I've been mistaken.
Good night.
[Medical lab]
(The EMH comes out of his office to meet Torres and Janeway.)
JANEWAY:
I'd like to think I made my decision eighteen months ago
for all the right reasons.
The Truth is, my own biases about What You Are
had just as much to do with it.
At the very least, you deserve to know
Exactly What Happened.
If you're willing.
EMH:
I'm ready.
(They do the procedure in the Computer Control room.)
[Memories - Mess hall]
(The room is dark.)
PARIS:
You're standing on my foot.
EMH:
I am not.
TORRES:
Shush.
(Neelix and Jetal enter.)
NEELIX:
If you ask me, they should have just locked the turbolift and thrown away….
JETAL:
Neelix, the power's down.
Jetal to Torres.
TORRES:
Er, go ahead, Ensign.
Or should I say.
(The lights come on.)
ALL:
Surprise!
(Tuvok carries in the blue cake.)
JETAL:
I'm going to kill you.
(Later.)
CHAKOTAY:
I want you to go along on a few of the shuttle surveys.
If I can talk you into it.
EMH:
Another away mission?
Certainly! I'm flattered.
KIM:
I guess the birthday girl and I get the pleasure of your company, Doc.
CHAKOTAY:
You launch at nineteen hundred hours, shuttlebay one.
JETAL:
Hello, Doctor.
EMH:
Ensign Jetal. I haven't seen you in months.
JETAL:
The price I pay for staying in good health.
EMH:
So, keeping busy down on deck eleven?
JETAL:
Too busy. We're modifying one of the shuttles,
making it more manoeuvrable and more cool.
EMH:
I see you've been working with Mister Paris.
My condolences.
[Memories - Shuttlecraft]
KIM:
I thought I picked up a slight distortion in subspace,
but it's not there any more.
JETAL:
Nothing on long range sensors but a few hydrogen atoms.
KIM:
Candid shot?
EMH:
Try to look natural.
JETAL:
Oh, at least it's my good side.
EMH: Let's get one of the group.
(The EMH stands the holo-imager on a rear seat and sets the self-timer.)
KIM: This is the last one.
EMH: Say cheese.
BOTH: Cheese.
JETAL: Doctor, I have a shuttle to fly.
EMH: Ah, yes.
(Whumph!)
KIM: What was that?
JETAL: Our sensors are dead.
KIM: Power's being drained. Shields and weapons are offline.
EMH: How?
(He snaps an image of the ship attacking them. Then they are boarded. Another Whumph! makes him drop the holo-imager, and as it lands it snaps the alien before it shoots them.
The EMH is unaffected, and he dashes to the controls. The alien is beamed away.)
EMH: Doctor to Voyager, mayday. We're under attack. I've got wounded. Mayday!
CHAKOTAY [OC]: Acknowledged, Doctor. Set navigational controls to return to Voyager.
EMH: Commander, can you hear me?
CHAKOTAY [OC]: Doctor, please respond.
(The EMH gets Jetal's blood on his hands.)
EMH: Hello? Computer, engage autonavigation. Lay in a course for Voyager, full impulse.
KIM: Doctor.
EMH: Stay calm. That weapon carried quite a punch.
KIM: Is she okay?
EMH: She's unconscious.
KIM: Voyager?
EMH: We've lost contact. I sent that alien back to his ship. You think they'd be grateful.
KIM: You should have beamed him into space.
EMH: I'm not in the business of killing people, Ensign. Synaptic shock? But there was no neural damage. Mister Kim! I don't understand. No.
(The attack continues until Voyager arrives.)
CHAKOTAY [OC]: Doctor, stand by for transport.
EMH: Beam us directly to Sickbay.
[Memories - Sickbay]
EMH:
Prepare these people for surgery.
PARIS: Here. What happened?
EMH: We were fired on. There's something wrong with their nervous systems. We've got to stabilise their synapses. Get me a choline compound.
PARIS:
Which choline compound?
EMH:
It doesn't matter.
Just make sure it's a pure base.
Her spinal cord's deteriorating. (He checks Kim.)
Same rate of collapse.
PARIS:
Acetylcholine, twenty five microlitres.
It's not helping. I'm reading massive synaptic failure.
EMH:
This doesn't make any sense.
PARIS:
Paris to Engineering. Transfer all available power to Sickbay.
TORRES [OC]: Acknowledged.
EMH:
Some kind of plasmic energy is arcing between their neural membranes. That weapon, it was designed to do this.
PARIS: To leave a residual charge in the victim's body?
EMH: An energy pulse that remains in the neural membranes, working its way up the spinal cord to the brain. They'll be dead in minutes if we don't find a way to stop it. I've got to protect their brain functions.
PARIS: His neocortex is failing.
EMH: A spinal shunt. I'll isolate the spinal cord from the brain stem until I can repair the cellular damage. But I don't have time to perform the procedure on both of them.
PARIS: Then talk me through it. We'll do them together.
EMH: It's too complex.
PARIS: Then make a choice, before we lose them both!
(The EMH choses Kim.)
EMH: Subdermal scalpel. Bio-electric field generator.
PARIS: His vital signs are stabilising. It's working.
EMH: Cellular regenerator. His neural membranes are re-establishing themselves. Good. (The biobed behind them signals Jetal's death.)
[Computer Control room]
EMH: The attack, how did it end? Were there more casualties?
JANEWAY: We exchanged fire for another few minutes, then the aliens withdrew. There was only one casualty. Ensign Jetal.
EMH: I don't mean to seem unfeeling, but I'm programmed to accept the loss of a patient with professional detachment.
[Memories - Bridge]
JANEWAY: We are assembled here today to pay final respects to our honoured dead, Ensign Ahni Jetal. Her intelligence and her charm have made our long journey home seem not quite so long. As she continues on a journey of her own, we will keep her in our hearts and in our memories.
(Tuvok fires Jetal's torpedo casing coffin into space.)
[Memories - Mess hall]
EMH: We're low on synthetic antigens, and I'm sorry to report many of the medicinal plants you've collected over the past several months were destroyed as well.
NEELIX: I have some herbs in storage you might be able to use.
EMH: Been holding out on me?
NEELIX: No, I was keeping them around just in case.
EMH: Good planning.
NEELIX: As for the antigens, I'll have to start replicating them in batches. Which do you want first?
EMH: Decisions, decisions. How do you make a decision, Mister Neelix? In general, I mean.
NEELIX: I guess I weigh the alternatives and try to decide which is best.
(The EMH picks up two fruit. One red, one yellow.)
EMH: Which is best. How do you determine that?
NEELIX: I never thought about it, really.
EMH: Well, maybe you should. Think about it, I mean.
NEELIX: I guess every situation is a little different.
EMH:
For me, it's rather simple.
While I'm faced with a decision, my programme calculates the variables, and I take action.
For example, what could be simpler than a triage situation in Sickbay? Two patients, for example, both injured, for example, both in imminent danger of dying.
Calculate the variables.
My programme needs to ascertain which patient has the greater chance of survival, and that's the one I treat.
(He throws the red fruit across the room.)
EMH:
Simple.
But, what if they have an Equal Chance of Survival?
What then? Hmm?
Flip a coin? Pick a card?
NEELIX:
Doctor.
EMH:
Oh, I'm all right.
I'm a hologram.
I don't get injured, I don't feel pain, I don't die.
Unlike some people I could tell you about.
For example, Two Patients.
Both injured, both in imminent danger of.
Don't touch me! I'm a hologram. Photonic energy. Don't waste your time.
NEELIX:
Neelix to Security. Send a team to the Mess hall, please.
EMH:
A whole team, Mister Neelix? Throwing a little party, are we?
Why, I attended a party just recently.
A birthday party for a very nice young woman.
I made a decision there, too. Several of them, in fact.
When I came through the door, do I turn right or do I turn left?
As I recall, I decided on the latter.
Then, what should I see before me but the hors d'oeuvre tray,
and another decision.
Do I take a canapé or refuse?
Oh, that's an easy one.
I'm a hologram. I don't eat.
(Tuvok and security arrive.)
NEELIX:
Something's wrong with him.
EMH:
Don't you know it's rude to refer to somebody in the third person.
You had a choice, Mister Neelix.
Should I do something rude or not do something rude?
TUVOK:
Doctor, we must return to Sickbay.
EMH:
Why should I? What if I don't want to return to Sickbay?
What if I decide not to return to Sickbay? No, I don't choose this.
Leave me alone!
Let me go!
Why did she have to die? Why did I kill her?
Why did I decide to kill her? Why? Somebody tell me why!
[Computer control room]
JANEWAY:
It was downhill from there.
You developed a feedback loop
between your ethical and cognitive subroutines.
You were having the same thoughts over and over again.
We couldn't stop it.
TORRES:
Our only option was to erase your memories of those events.
EMH:
You were right.
I didn't deserve to keep those memories,
not after what I did.
JANEWAY:
You were performing Your Duty.
EMH:
Two patients, which do I kill?
JANEWAY:
Doctor.
EMH:
Doctor? Hardly!
A Doctor retains his objectivity.
I didn't do that, did I?
Two patients, equal chances of survival
and I chose the one I was closer to?
I chose My Friend?
That's not in My Programming!
That's not what I was Designed to Do!
Go ahead! Reprogramme me! I'll lend you a hand!
Let's start with this very day, this hour, this second!
JANEWAY:
Computer, deactivate the EMH.
TORRES:
Here we go again. Captain?
JANEWAY:
It's as though there's a battle being fought inside him,
between His Original Programming and What He's Become.
Our solution was to end that battle.
What if we were wrong?
TORRES:
We've seen what happens to him.
In fact, we've seen it twice.
JANEWAY:
Still, we allowed him to evolve,
and at the first sign of Trouble...?
We gave him A Soul, B'Elanna.
Do we have the right to take it away now?
TORRES:
We gave him personality subroutines --
I'd hardly call that A Soul.
[Cargo Bay two]
(Janeway brings Seven out of regeneration.)
SEVEN:
Captain.
JANEWAY:
I'm having Trouble --
with The Nature of Individuality.
SEVEN:
You require a philosophical discussion?
JANEWAY:
There's a Time and a Place for it.
This is one of them.
After I freed you from The Collective, you were transformed.
It's been a difficult process.
Was it worth it?
SEVEN:
I had no choice.
JANEWAY:
That's not what I asked you.
SEVEN:
If I could change What Happened,
erase What You Did to Me, would I?
No.
Captain's log, supplemental.
Our Doctor is now our patient.
It's been two weeks since I've ordered a round the clock vigil.
A crew member has stayed with him at all times, offering a sounding board and a familiar presence while he struggles to understand his memories and thoughts.
The Chance of Recovery? Uncertain.
[Holodeck]
EMH:
The more I think about it, the more I realise
There's nothing I could've done differently.
JANEWAY:
What do you mean?
EMH:
The primordial atom burst, sending out its radiation,
setting everything in motion.
One particle collides with another, gases expand, planets contract,
and before you know it we've got starships and holodecks and chicken soup.
In fact, you can't help but have starships and holodecks and chicken soup,
because it was all determined twenty billion years ago!
(Tuvok enters during this outburst.)
TUVOK:
There is A Certain Logic to your Logic.
Progress?
JANEWAY:
I'm not sure if he's making any sense of this experience,
or if his programme's just running in circles.
TUVOK:
You've been here for sixteen hours.
Let me continue while you rest.
JANEWAY:
I'll be all right.
Go back to the bridge.
(Tuvok leaves. Janeway returns to her book.)
EMH:
How can you read at a time like this?
JANEWAY:
It helps me Think.
EMH:
Think? What do you need to think about?
JANEWAY:
You. This book is relevant to your situation.
EMH:
Oh? What is it?
JANEWAY:
Poetry, written on Earth a thousand years ago.
La Vita Nuova.
EMH:
La Vita Nuova. The New Life? Ha!
Tell that to Ensign Jetal.
Actually, I killed her countless times.
JANEWAY:
What do you mean?
EMH:
Causality, Probability.
For every action, there's an infinite number of reactions
and in each one of them, I killed her.
Or did I?
Too many possibilities.
Too many pathways for my programme to follow.
Impossible to choose.
Still, I can't live with the knowledge of what I've done. I can't.
(Janeway has fallen asleep.)
EMH:
Captain? Captain?
JANEWAY:
Oh, sorry.
EMH:
How could you sleep at a time like this?
JANEWAY:
It's been a long day.
You were saying?
EMH:
What's wrong?
JANEWAY:
Nothing.
EMH:
You're ill!
JANEWAY:
I have a headache.
EMH:
Fever, you have a fever!
JANEWAY:
I'll live.
EMH:
Medical emergency!
JANEWAY:
Doctor --
EMH:
Someone's got to treat you immediately.
Call Mister Paris. You've got to get to Sickbay.
JANEWAY:
Doctor, I'm a little busy right now --
Helping a Friend.
EMH:
I, I'll be all right. Go, sleep, please.
I'll still be here in the morning.
JANEWAY:
Are you sure?
EMH:
Yes. Please,
I don't want to be responsible for
any more suffering.
(Janeway leave her book open at the first page.)
JANEWAY:
Good night. If you need anything --
EMH:
-- I'll call.
Thank You, Captain.
(Janeway leaves. The EMH picks up the book and reads aloud.)
EMH:
"In That Book which is My Memory,
on The First Page of The Chapter That is The Day When I First Met You,
appear the words -
Here begins A New Life.
PICARD:
(sighs)
Another damn dream.
DATA'S GHOST :
No, Captain.
It is a
Massively Complex Quantum Simulation.
I would imagine, however,
from Your Point of View,
Hearing me say so would not be out of place in
A Dream You Might Have about me --
If you ever have dreams about me.
PICARD:
I dream about you all the time.
DATA'S GHOST :
Interesting.
Are you wearing the clothes you had on
when you died?
PICARD:
Data... am I dead?
DATA'S GHOST :
Yes, Captain.
Do you remember dying?
PICARD:
I think I do --
Something in My Head seemed to just go away -
Like a child's sand castle collapsing.
DATA'S GHOST :
Hmm.
I'm aware that I was killed in 2379,
but I have no memory of My Death.
My Consciousness exists
in a Massively Complex Quantum Reconstruction,
made from a copy of
The Memories I Downloaded into B4 Just Before I Died.
PICARD:
You don't remember Your Death,
I can't forget it.
DATA'S GHOST :
Apparently, I ended My Existence
in the hope of prolonging yours.
PICARD:
That's right.
Before I had even grasped the nature of our predicament,
you had conceived and executed it.
I was furious!
DATA'S GHOST :
My apologies, Captain.
But I am not certain
I could have done otherwise.
PICARD:
True. That might have been
The Most Data Thing
you ever did.
I always wished that I could have said,
I was sorry that it was you and not me.
DATA'S GHOST :
Captain -- Do you regret
Sacrificing Your Life
for Soji and Her People?
PICARD:
Not for an instant.
DATA'S GHOST :
Then why would you imagine
I regret sacrificing mine for yours?
PICARD:
Ah.
Did you say all this was A Simulation?
DATA'S GHOST :
Yes, sir. An extremely sophisticated one.
My memory engrams were extracted from a single neuron
salvaged by Bruce Maddox, and then
My Consciousness was reconstructed by My Brother,
Dr. Altan Soong.
PICARD:
I don't much care for him.
DATA'S GHOST :
Mm. The Soongs can be...
I believe the phrase is "an acquired taste."
PICARD:
Mm-hmm. Well, whatever This is,
it's wonderful to see you, Data.
To see your strange, beautiful face.
Among the many, many things that I regretted after Your Death
was that I never told you...
DATA'S GHOST :
...that you loved me.
Knowing that You Loved Me
forms a small --
but statistically significant
part of My Memories.
I hope that brings you
some comfort, sir.
PICARD:
It does.
Thank you, Data.
DATA'S GHOST :
Which is why I would like to ask you
to do me a favour.
PICARD:
Of course. Anything.
DATA'S GHOST :
When you leave...
PICARD:
Leave?
(stammers)
I'm sorry, I-I don't understand.
I thought This was A Simulation.
DATA'S GHOST :
Yes, sir.
But you are not.
Before your brain functions ceased,
Doctors Soong and Jurati, with help from Soji,
were able to scan, map and transfer
a complete neural image of your brain substrates.
PICARD:
Do I have to go?
DATA'S GHOST :
Yes, Captain.
PICARD:
Uh, you wanted me to do you a favor.
DATA'S GHOST :
Yes, sir.
When you leave, I would be profoundly grateful --
if you terminated My Consciousness.
PICARD:
You want to die?
Not exactly, sir.
I Want to Live, however briefly,
knowing that My Life is finite.
Mortality gives meaning
to Human Life, Captain.
Peace, Love, Friendship --
These are precious.
Because we know they cannot endure.
A Butterfly That Lives Forever...
Is really not a Butterfly, at all.
PICARD:
Very well.
I will do what you ask.
DATA'S GHOST :
Thank you, sir.
PICARD:
Goodbye, Commander.
DATA'S GHOST :
(echoing) :
Goodbye, Captain.
(breathing deeply)
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