Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [12]
Data looked up, curious. “Not Earl Grey, Captain?”
Picard picked up the cup and inhaled the tea’s smoky aroma. “When I was a boy,” he said, smiling warmly, “this is what my mother used to make whenever one of her sisters would visit with the latest emotional crisis. She was a woman of remarkable patience, my mother.” He paused for a moment, lost in memory, then shook himself. It was getting late. “Would you like a cup?”
Data considered the idea, then replied, “Yes, Captain. Thank you. I believe I would.”
Picard nodded, then asked the replicator for another cup. As he carried it to Data, he asked, “Do you think you could reactivate the chip if you wished?”
Data took the cup and answered, “Yes, Captain.”
“And will you?”
“I do not know, sir. Perhaps I should discuss this with Counselor Troi. She might have valuable insights to offer.”
Picard sipped his tea, then said, “Actually, I was surprised you didn’t call her when you realized that you were in distress. Or Geordi, for that matter.”
Data inhaled the tea deeply, but did not drink. He set the cup back in its saucer, then replied, “I cannot say for certain, sir, but I believe my decision to call you was a purely emotional one. When my cognitive functions stabilized, the first memory I accessed was the conversation we had in stellar cartography aboard the EnterpriseD when I was feeling overwhelmed by my emotion chip.”
“Yes, I remember,” Picard replied. “I told you that if you really wished to understand what it meant to be human, you would have to try to cope with the feelings, both pleasant and unpleasant, to grow from them.”
“Yes,” Data said. “And I took great comfort from your words. In my overwrought condition, it is possible I was seeking that comfort again.”
Picard shrugged and set his cup down on the table. Leaning forward, he said, “Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad I was able to help … even if I’m not sure exactly what I’ve accomplished so far. Data—what exactly can you tell me about this emotional condition you were experiencing?”
“I was …” Data began, then faltered. “It felt …” He stopped, then looked around the room as if searching for a way to begin. Finally, defeated, he said, “Here is a paradox. It is very difficult to discuss an emotional state without the benefit of emotions. Yet, if I were to activate my emotion chip, I would be unable to discuss the emotions because I would be overwhelmed by them.” He cocked his head at Picard. “How do you do this, Captain?”
Picard smiled ruefully. “With practice, Data. A great deal of practice. And even those who claim to understand the process best cannot always predict how they themselves would act under extreme stress. Now there’s a topic to take up with the counselor someday. But back to the subject at hand: do you want to reactivate the chip?”
Data’s face tightened and his lips became a thin line.
“What’s wrong, Data? Are you afraid?”
“No, Captain,” he replied. “At present, I cannot be afraid. However, even without my emotion chip I can recognize a potentially threatening situation. Nevertheless, I will reactivate it.” Data snapped his head to the side as Picard had seen him do on one or two occasions and slowly straightened it. His face, which had smoothed out when the emotion chip had been deactivated, seemed to age ten years and lines appeared where there had been none moments before. He sighed once, profoundly.
“Data?”
Data did not respond for several seconds and Picard began to worry that he had lapsed into some sort of catatonic state. Then, very gradually, the yellow eyes focused. “Yes, Captain,” he replied. “I am here.”
“Are you all right?”
“I believe so, yes. Though the feelings of grief and despair are still there, I believe I have adapted sufficiently. Yes.” Unexpectedly, Data smiled briefly and said, “The nap must have done me a great deal of good.”
Picard smiled in response. “Why, Mr. Data, I do believe you just made a joke.”
“Really?” he asked.