Showing posts with label Lion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lion. Show all posts

Tuesday 16 November 2021

The Oncoming Storm



 
The Gathering Storm - 1974 
(Richard Burton, Robert Hardy)


"It fell upon Mr. Chamberlain in one of 
The Supreme Crises of The World
to be Contradicted by Events
to be Deceived and Cheated 
by an Evil and Wicked Man
because he had Hope -- 

Hope of Peace
The Most Noble Instinct of Man."








    "Since we last met, The House has suffered a very grievous loss in the death of one of its most distinguished Members and of a statesman and public servant who, during the best part of three memorable years, was first Minister of The Crown.

    The fierce and bitter controversies which hung around him in recent times were hushed by the news of his illness and are silenced by his death. In paying a tribute of respect and of regard to an eminent man who has been taken from us, no one is obliged to alter the opinions which he has formed or expressed upon issues which have become a part of history; but at the Lychgate we may all pass our own conduct and our own judgments under a searching review. It is not given to human beings, happily for them, for otherwise life would be intolerable, to foresee or to predict to any large extent the unfolding course of events. In one phase men seem to have been right, in another they seem to have been wrong. Then again, a few years later, when the perspective of time has lengthened, all stands in a different setting. There is a new proportion. There is another scale of values. History with its flickering lamp stumbles along the trail of the past, trying to reconstruct its scenes, to revive its echoes, and kindle with pale gleams the passion of former days. What is the worth of all this? The only guide to a man is his conscience; the only shield to his memory is the rectitude and sincerity of his actions. It is very imprudent to walk through life without this shield, because we are so often mocked by the failure of our hopes and the upsetting of our calculations; but with this shield, however the fates may play, we march always in the ranks of honour.

    It fell to Neville Chamberlain in one of the supreme crises of the world to be contradicted by events, to be disappointed in his hopes, and to be deceived and cheated by a wicked man. But what were these hopes in which he was disappointed? What were these wishes in which he was frustrated? What was that faith that was abused? They were surely among the most noble and benevolent instincts of the human heart — the love of peace, the toil for peace, the strife for peace, the pursuit of peace, even at great peril and certainly to the utter disdain of popularity or clamour. Whatever else History may or may not say about these terrible, tremendous years, we can be sure that Neville Chamberlain acted with perfect sincerity according to his lights and strove to the utmost of his capacity and authority, which were powerful, to save the world from the awful, devastating struggle in which we are now engaged. This alone will stand him in good stead as far as what is called the verdict of history is concerned.

    But it is also a help to our country and to our whole Empire, and to our decent faithful way of living that, however long the struggle may last, or however dark may be the clouds which overhang our path, no future generation of English-speaking folks — for that is the tribunal to which we appeal — will doubt that, even at a great cost to ourselves in technical preparation, we were guiltless of the bloodshed, terror and misery which have engulfed so many lands and peoples, and yet seek new victims still. Herr Hitler protests with frantic words and gestures that he has only desired peace. What do these ravings and outpourings count before the silence of Neville Chamberlain's tomb? Long and hard, hazardous years lie before us, but at least we entered upon them united and with clean hearts.

    I do not propose to give an appreciation of Neville Chamberlain's life and character, but there were certain qualities, always admired in these Islands, which he possessed in an altogether exceptional degree. He had a physical and moral toughness of fibre which enabled him all through his varied career to endure misfortune and disappointment without being unduly discouraged or wearied. He had a precision of mind and an aptitude for business which raised him far above the ordinary levels of our generation. He had a firmness of spirit which was not often elated by success, seldom downcast by failure and never swayed by panic. When, contrary to all his hopes, beliefs and exertions, the war came upon him, and when, as he himself said, all that he had worked for was shattered, there was no man more resolved to pursue the unsought quarrel to the death. The same qualities which made him one of the last to enter the war, made him one of the last who would quit it until the full victory of a righteous cause was won.

    I had the singular experience of passing in a day from being one of his most prominent opponents and critics to being one of his principal lieutenants, and on another day of passing from serving under him to become the head of a Government of which, with perfect loyalty, he was content to be a member. Such relationships are unusual in our public life. I have before told the House on the morrow of the Debate which in the early days of May challenged his position, he declared to me and a few other friends that only a National Government could face the storm about to break upon us, and that if he were an obstacle to the formation of such a Government, he would instantly retire. Thereafter, he acted with that singleness of purpose and simplicity of conduct which at all times, and especially in great times, ought to be a model for us all.

    When he returned to duty a few weeks after a most severe operation, the bombardment of London and of the seat of Government had begun. I was a witness during that fortnight of his fortitude under the most grievous and painful bodily afflictions, and I can testify that, although physically only the wreck of a man, his nerve was unshaken and his remarkable mental faculties unimpaired.

    After he left the Government he refused all honours. He would die like his father, plain Mr. Chamberlain. I sought the permission of the King however to have him supplied with the Cabinet papers, and until a few days of his death he followed our affairs with keenness, interest and tenacity. He met the approach of death with a steady eye. If he grieved at all, it was that he could not be a spectator of our victory, but I think he died with the comfort of knowing that his country had, at least, turned the corner.

    At this time our thoughts must pass to the gracious and charming lady who shared his days of triumph and adversity with a courage and quality the equal of his own. He was, like his father and his brother, Austen, before him, a famous Member of the House of Commons, and we here assembled this morning, Members of all parties, without a single exception, feel that we do ourselves and our country honour in saluting the memory of one whom Disraeli would have called an "English worthy."

    §
    The Lord Privy Seal (Mr. Attlee)


    I desire to add a few words on behalf of the Labour party to the eloquent and moving tribute which the Prime Minister has paid to one who was so lately our colleague in the Government, and to one who only six months ago was himself the Prime Minister. It is an old and gracious tradition of this House, when death comes to one who has taken a leading place in Parliament, that controversy should be stilled while leaders of all parties speak in recognition of the loss which has been sustained in common by all Members. At the present time, when war has brought together in support of one Government all the great parties of the State, it might seem, perhaps, unnecessary that anyone should speak from this Bench except the Prime Minister, who can speak for us all. Yet there is, I think, good reason to continue our ancient usages. It is characteristic of the way of life which we are fighting to preserve not to allow political differences to prevent mutual respect and friendship. It is a mark of our democracy to attain national unity, not by uniformity, but by diversity. For all but a few months of his political career, Neville Chamberlain stood for policies in home and foreign affairs to which we of the Labour Party were opposed, and often very bitterly opposed. But this is not the time or the occasion to pass any judgment on those controversies. We are too close to them to gain a true perspective. But opposed as we were to his policy, we never doubted that Mr. Chamberlain was honestly and sincerely following the course which he believed to be right in the interests of his country. We never doubted his deep devotion to the cause of peace.

    It is remarkable that one family, in so short a period, should have produced three statesmen of outstanding achievement with such diverse gifts as Joseph, Austen and Neville Chamberlain. Neville Chamberlain brought to the service of this House most remarkable qualities—great industry, an orderly mind, clarity of exposition and readiness in debate, backed by great tenacity and determination. It was always obvious when he spoke that he had not just read a brief but had mastered his subject. Rarely, if ever, was he found wanting in knowledge. Few Ministers were more skilful in piloting through Committee a difficult and
    1621
    complicated Measure, and he was a great administrator.

    It was his fate to be called to the office of Prime Minister at a time of very great difficulty. For nearly 18 years I encountered him as a political opponent—a redoubtable political opponent—but although we disagreed profoundly on politics, he never allowed those differences to affect the friendliness of our private relations. In the last months of his life I worked with him as a colleague and I was then better able to appreciate to the full his qualities. I saw the magnanimity with which he worked with those who had been his severe critics. I recognised his devotion to the common cause and his abhorrence of the evil thing which is seeking to destroy our civilisation. Above all, I admired the courage with which he faced the physical disabilities which came upon him, the devotion with which he strove to the last to serve his country and the faith in ultimate victory which sustained him. I wish, on behalf of the Members of my party, to express our deep sympathy with his widow and family in their bereavement.

    §
    The Secretary of State for Air (Sir Archibald Sinclair)

    I should be grateful if the House would allow me on behalf of the Liberal party to add a very few words to the impressive tributes which have already been offered by the Prime Minister and by the Lord Privy Seal to the memory of Mr. Chamberlain. The Liberal party opposed his policies but respected his character and integrity. More than once, even in the heat of our most controversial Debates, we have paused to pay tribute to his humanity as a social reformer, to his courage, to his high sense of public duty and to his unsparing devotion to the cause of peace. Time and events have obliterated the most acute differences in policy, have united all parties in this House in the pursuit of a common aim—the aim of preserving British freedom from the menace of foreign tyranny—and have enabled us, his erstwhile opponents, to share the present grief of Mr. Chamberlain's family and of his loyal supporters and friends. So, I join with the Prime Minister and the Lord Privy Seal in mourning the loss of a generous and warm-hearted colleague, of a cool, wise and resolute counsellor,
    1622
    and of a brave and faithful public servant, who, with his father and his brother, shared a name which will for ever remain illustrious in the annals of Parliament.

    §
    Mr. Lambert (South Molton)

    As one of the few Members who served in the House of Commons with three members of the Chamberlain family, may I add a few words to the tributes which have already been paid to Mr. Neville Chamberlain. I remember so well Sir Austen Chamberlain making his maiden speech. On that occasion Mr. Gladstone, always the soul of chivalry, complimented him on having made a speech, which was "dear and refreshing to a father's heart," and Mr. Joseph Chamberlain was moved by that expression. Sir Austen Chamberlain never became Prime Minister, nor did his distinguished father. That office fell to Mr. Neville Chamberlain, and he inherited a troubled heritage. No one can say that for the past few years our foreign policy has been conducted with vision or with vigour, but that was not entirely due to Mr. Chamberlain. When he assumed office he endeavoured strenuously, and at great personal inconvenience, to secure peace. He was baulked only by a cold-blooded and unscrupulous perjurer. But his name remains as that of one who strove for peace. How fervently we must wish that he could have been successful. Had he been successful, tens of millions of people in Europe would have blessed his name. But the great action at Munich—and I think it was a great action—has brought criticism. I would remind those who criticise, that Munich, at least, gave some tens of thousands of our young British boys another year of life and enabled this country to build up its armaments.

    Those days are past and history will record its verdict. After the Debate of May of last year, although Mr. Chamberlain had a comfortable majority, he did not hesitate for one moment to sacrifice his great position on the altar of national unity, and I am sure that my right hon. Friend the Prime Minister, who has paid him such an eloquent tribute, will agree that he never had a more loyal and unselfish colleague. Intrigue was foreign to Neville Chamberlain. We mourn him; we shall
    1623
    miss him, and if I had to search for an epitaph for him it would be: "Neville Chamberlain, a selfless patriot, who gave his life to his country."



Thursday 25 March 2021

DEAD A.I.s

 
 

 
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...?) :
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 —
 
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.
 
 
LARIS :
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.
 
 
LARIS :
The information's there, 
but the indexes have been surgically deleted.
 
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.
What we need is a record of any contact that she may have had 
 
PICARD : 
- with her sister.
 
 
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? 
 
 
Um, Dr. Jurati.
She said that they would be identical twins, right?
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.
 
 
 
LARIS :
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? 
 
 
LARIS :
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? 
 
 
LARIS :
I'm saying this transmission came from off-world.
 
 PICARD :
Are you certain?
 
 
LARIS :
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)