The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [22]
“But, Wesley, this book is a novel, written to appeal to a popular audience,” Data argued. “You should be able to tell me whether it excites you, makes you want to read more—whether it contains the proper elements for a work of popular appeal. In such a judgment, your opinion is as valid as anyone’s.”
“Oh,” said Wes, unable to think up any argument to refute this. “Yeah, I guess so. Okay, I’ll read it. What’s the plot?”
“It is an adventure and romance set in the early days of interstellar travel. This scene takes place between a couple on the night before he must leave to captain a ship as it pioneers the paths between the stars.”
“Okay.”
Data handed the teenager the pages. Wesley began to read:
The mountains of the moon were bright now with the sunrise that lasts for many days, bright except where they were dark with all the blackness of shadow that had never been touched by the light, for on the moon some nights never end. Juan watched the sun and then he watched the face of the ingles woman, Maggie, and he thought of many things. Bueno, he thought, good. It is good that she is here with me, for this may be the last time we are together for a very long time. Perhaps forever.
“We have not much time,” he said, seeing that she knew he spoke the truth. The pressure of her hand in his tightened until it was as searing as the sun on the jagged peaks, making him desire her urgently, intensifying his need of her, filling his entire being with an aching agony of wanting. “Maggie, oh, Maggie,” he said urgently.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” She spoke almost fiercely.
Then there was the yielding surface of the spacestation flooring beneath them and the faint hiss of the environmental system air filters and the smell of the cleaning agents and the touch of her fingers against his skin that he would remember forever, for as long as he lived, however long that would be, and for her there was the brightness of the unfiltered sun against the dome splashing the mountaintops with light so intense it was painful and she had to close her eyes and even then it seemed that she could still feel it boring into her until she was blind with it, with the feel of the sun and of him. For him it was darkness and a blaze of warmth together, leading to the beginning of the galaxy, before there was anything at all. Time halted in its passage and he felt the galaxy move, shudder beneath them, revolve and spin out away from him.
Then he was himself again, separate, and he smiled at her wearily. “I love you. I cannot bear to part from you, but I know that I must. Did you feel the galaxy move?”
“Yes,” she said. “For me it was the same. It is always so.”
Wesley reached the end of the handwritten passage and stopped. His face felt hot, whether because of the subject matter or because he was embarrassed for Data, he wasn’t sure; the teenager was glad that the Ten-Forward was dimly lit. This is awful, but what the hell am I supposed to say? he wondered blankly. Data’s my friend, and this is obviously something he really cares about. I can’t hurt his feelings!
“Well?” asked the android, who was watching him intently, a hint of almost human eagerness beneath his habitual calm. “What do you think, Wesley?”
“Well, it’s certainly very … classical … in tone,” the youth said, choosing his words carefully. “Matter of fact, if you hadn’t told me you wrote this, I’d have thought it was a passage from a Hemingway novel.”A bad one, he added silently.
Data seemed pleased. “That ambience was what I was striving for, Wesley,” he admitted. “Ernest Hemingway is Commander Riker’s favorite writer.”
“Maybe you ought to show this to him, then.”
“Perhaps after our current mission is completed. But tell me, Wesley, did it all seem realistic to you? Did you find it stirring?”
Wes’s face flamed again, and he searched awkwardly for words. “Uh … well, Data, I can’t claim to have had a lot of … uh … practical experience yet to compare, frankly.” He cleared his throat. “As to whether I found it … stirring, uh, well … I suppose I did. I mean”—he floundered