Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [139]
Everything about the young man’s life is something I want to remember. The first time he ever smiled at me was like a gift from the universe. It’s not difficult to understand how some Federation religions attributed supernatural, almost deific attributes to infants.
Well, obviously I’m not prone to sentimentality. That was a dreadfully metaphysical statement. Perhaps my program is adapting once again.
At least, I hope it will adapt once again. I’m not fond of the idea of being unable to properly voice my own thoughts.
Occasionally, I wonder what’s happening on Voyager. They must still be trying to beam me aboard. To them, it’s only been ten minutes and five seconds since I left.
I find myself beginning to hope they never find a solution. There are elements of Jason’s life that I have realized that I do not want to miss. His first steps… his first word… his first cunarcycle… his first day at school. I have heard the occasional statement of the “rose-colored glasses of first parenthood.” I can only suspect that this is the condition from which I suffer. (Although, I remain curious how a person of my holographic nature can suffer from a condition that plagues organics, but that is a question for another time.)
I can hear Jason chattering away in his crib. I should go check on him.
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- Stardate 53501.3196839080
Day 600
Jason said his first word today.
It was more a burble than speech, but the “papa” was unmistakable. Even Mareeza agrees. I keep trying to remind myself that it’s just a matter of time before Voyager beams me back. I’m probably not going to be here when Jason loses his first tooth, or when he has his first day of school, or even when he has his first date. All of that will be left for Mareeza.
It’s enough to tempt me to try to find a place to hide from the transporter, but as I haven’t encountered a substance since my arrival that will impede a transporter beam, I must resist the temptation and face reality. That day is coming, whether I like it or not.
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- Stardate 53501.3206681034
Day 630
Today, Mareeza and I finally decided that Jason was old enough to see what his “Uncle” Akree did for a living. Yes, we took him to see what could be referred to as the “national pastime” of the Central Protectorate-a cherusa kelo game. It’s an odd sport, something of a mixture of Earth baseball and Talaxian grumpta ball.
To read the local journalists, you’d think Akree was the best to ever play the game. I’ve seen phrases like “Playoff God” and “Kelo hero” being thrown around as though they were everyday compliments. The most amusing comment, however, was from the sportswriter who said, “You probably won’t see anything like Akreedor Torelius ever again.” It’s enough to make you think that when Akree retires, the game will cease to exist.
Akree, you see, is the main guard for Mountain. It is his job to make sure that the volleys from the hurler don’t get by him and impact the freysa-that’s a piece of fibrous material used in a manner similar to the backstop in Earth baseball, although here it’s part of the game instead of an insurance against spectator injury. If it does impact the freysa, the other team’s interceptor automatically gets to move to the first cherusa gap. Of course, if the interceptor manages to beat Torelius to the ball-they call it a kelo-then the interceptor is allowed to throw the kelo wherever he chooses within the playing field, and he’s allowed to run around the gaps until he either chooses to stop, or the kelo beats him to a gap-in which case he is “out.” If the guard stops the volley five times, the interceptor is “out.” If the interceptor gets around all seven gaps, his team scores a point.
Yes, it can be confusing. It’s almost as though a very inebriated Romulan tried to reinvent Earth baseball, but forgot about the bat. Most of the time it makes sense, but you have to stand on your head and look sideways