Pathways - Jeri Taylor [206]
Nonetheless, his natural physical prowess insured that he won most of his races, to the utter delight of his teammates and the student body, and particularly his irrepressible roommate. And he had to admit that he found running a particularly satisfying activity; now that he had adapted to the thicker and cooler air of Earth, it was bracing to sprint around the track, hurdling the barriers in a measured cadence. He found the layout of the track appealing; its symmetry pleased the eye, its neatly configured lanes with their precisely placed fences forming a unified pattern.
Tuvok and a human from UCLA had been neck-and-neck for most of the race and were heading for the last hurdles. A lusty roar from the crowd urged both runners on; Tuvok tried to shut out the din, which he found distracting, and to concentrate on his form, leaning forward as his first leg cleared the hurdle, his rear leg at nearly a right angle from his body. He worked to keep his body relaxed, the rhythm of his stride intact, the hurdle just a smooth part of the whole. Finally they were sprinting for the finish, the last forty-three meters, and Tuvok focused his mind, cleared it of everything except a tiny pinpoint of light and ran for that light, watched it get larger and larger and larger—
And he crossed the finish line one half step ahead of the UCLA runner.
The crowd erupted in a frenzy and Scott came tumbling out of the stands, orange hair falling in a mop over his freckled forehead, to fling himself on Tuvok in some kind of ecstasy, pounding him on the back and babbling almost incoherently.
“Tuvok, you did it, old pointy-ears did it, I knew you would, you’re the best, Vulk, the best of the best of the best. Hey—this is my roommate! I taught him everything he knows!” This to the gathering crowd of well-wishers who pressed close to congratulate Tuvok.
“Hey, hey, roomie, give us a smile, what do you say? A great, big, toothy Vulcan smile—c’mon!” This was a frequent plea from Scott, a game which seemed to provide him never-ending amusement and which Tuvok frankly found baffling. Surely Scott knew that a smile would never be forthcoming, and consequently, what could be the continuing allure of this doomed request?
After four years, Tuvok still found humans puzzling in general. They were rambunctious, eager, generous, disorganized, unruly, passionate, argumentative, compassionate, ebullient—in other words, as far removed from the ideals of cthia as could possibly be imagined. On several occasions, he had been granted audience with Sarek, the Ambassador Extraordinary Emeritus of Vulcan to Earth (and the entire Federation of Planets), and had sought greater understanding of this puzzling species.
Sarek had been less than helpful. It was clear that he was comfortable among the Terrans, and had even taken one as his wife. Sarek had some affinity for these people, but he was never able to articulate it in a way that Tuvok could grasp.
“You cannot hold them to Vulcan standards,” the venerable old man told Tuvok. “Of course by such measurements they will fail. You must see them only in relationship to each other.”
“I think they must resemble Vulcans in the time before Surak.”
“No, no, no, not so bad as that. They are exuberant, but not violent. They are undisciplined, but not chaotic. They have much to recommend them.”
Tuvok decided to risk a query which was potentially embarrassing. “One thing I do not understand is what they call ‘jokes.’ By placing someone in a humiliating position, they seem to derive such pleasure that they laugh aloud. Can you explain that?”
“Give me an example.”
“On the first night that I was here, I dressed for sleep and got into bed. As I put my legs under the sheets, my feet encountered a barrier, and I discovered that the bedclothes had been folded in such a way that it was impossible to extend my legs fully. This was an oddity, certainly—but then I witnessed my roommate doubled over with laughter,