Metamorphosis - Jean Lorrah [65]
But as Data entered the turbolift, Wesley Crusher hurried across the upper bridge to dart in beside him. “Data, can I change my lesson for tomorrow?” “For what reason, Wesley?”
“Working on the gang’s computers, I got an idea for improving our own navigation equations.”
“I know. I plan to study your discovery.”
“No-not the star charts,” the boy protested. “That was yesterday. This is a new idea. Let me show you,” he added as they walked along the corridor leading to both their quarters.
Wesley still occupied the senior officer suite he had shared with his mother, for the other officers now responsible for him wanted him to remain nearby.
Knowing Wesley’s enthusiasm, Data realized that if he allowed the boy to start working at Data’s computer he would have a guest for the next several hours.
So he paused at the door to Wesley’s quarters, saying, “Very well. Show me.”
But although Wesley started the program on his computer he did not immediately sit down and start to work.
“You hungry, Data?” he asked. Data was startled when, before he could speak, his stomach answered with a distinct gurgle. Wesley laughed. “That sounds like a “yes.” Any preferences?” “I am . open to suggestions.”
The boy grinned. “Mom always let me have one dessert per day-but I’d rather have it as an afternoon snack when I can appreciate it than after a meal when I’m not hungry anymore.”
Data assumed that the boy still followed his mother’s regime, for he was obviously healthy, and growing like the proverbial weed. “That sounds like a good idea,” he agreed.
Wesley stood before the food dispenser. “Let’s see—do you like chocolate, Data?”
“I do not know.”
“You’re human now. You’ve gotta like chocolate.
What would be the best way to introduce you? I know … Computer, two hot fudge sundaes!”
When Data tasted the concoction Wesley handed him, he was astonished. Only the chocolate sauce was hot; it was ladled over frozen ice cream, creating an incredible blend of hot and cold, bitter and sweet, matched visually by the dark-brown chocolate against the almost-white ice cream. “A study in contrasts,” Data observed in a pause between mouthfuls. “Wesley, I think you have just taught me something about human art.”
Caught with his mouth full of ice cream, Wesley choked on his laughter, his eyes watering in the struggle to swallow. When he had succeeded, he laughed openly.
“Did I say something funny?” Data asked.
“Not really—except that you’re the first adult to agree with me that chocolate ought to be considered an art form. I’m glad you like it, Data. Next time I’ll introduce you to chocolate mousse.”
It took nearly an hour for Data to study the equations Wesley was working on-something he could have done in minutes as an android. Leaning over the boy’s shoulder, he felt the stiffness in his muscles again by the time he agreed that Wesley should continue that line of research. Then he headed for his own quarters, yearning even more for the relief of a sonic shower. He had hardly reached his cabin, though, when Geordi was at the door. “Well?” his friend demanded with a grin.
“How’d it go on the bridge? At least you didn’t do anything requiring an emergency call to Engineering.” “I suppose it went well enough,” Data said. “There is just so much, Geordi-so much I never gave a thought to. Wesley Crusher may be a senior member of the bridge crew before I am again.”
“Oh, come on now,” Geordi said sympathetically. “It’s not that hard to be human.”
“Perhaps not if you were born to it,” Data responded. “Geordi, how do you remember what you are doing, when you are constantly bombarded by sensory information? I can no longer store extraneous information for later recall-when I look for it, it is gone.
Whenever something new engages my attention, I lose track of what I was doing before.”
“Data, that just takes experience. In a few days you’ll learn to sort out what’s important and what