Starship Josh: The Uncharted Territories
[The Bridge is a wreck. The viewscreen is trashed, the commander's chair is upended, and the chained door to the subconcious has "SuperEgo is a dumby-face" spray-painted on it in big orange letters. Warning lights are flashing on and off. Commander SuperEgo enters, looking beaten and disheveled.]
SuperEgo: What... [Blinks at the harsh lights] What the hell? What's going on? Someone give me a status report!
[Silence. Somewhere, something is dripping. The silence makes the sound seem much louder.]
SE: I don't...what's going on? Visual! Give me a scan!
[The viewcreen flickers on, unsteady and blurry. SuperEgo stares, uncomprehending.]
SE: That's...that's not our room. Where are we? What happened? [Squints] Visual, look down! [Scan moves down] ...wait. Where the HELL are our pants!?!? MEMORY!
[Silence]
SE: [Looking worried] Memory? Memory! Can you hear me?
[Static, then female voice stir over intercom.]
Memory: Kaptein ? Jeg har en banan.
SE: [Blink] What?
Memory: Jeg ikke forstår. Det hadde rett her, siden en andre.
SE: I don't understand! That's not French! What's going on? Memory!
[Voice floats out of debris on one side of room.]
Ego: It's not good, sir. It won't work!
SE: SubCommander! Where are you?
E: Here, sir, under what's left on the morality meter and the inhibition-control relay.
[SuperEgo rushes over and starts moving wreckage.]
SE: Ego! For the love of all that's holy, what's going on?
E: Nick's birthday party, Sir.
SE: [Pauses, looks horrified.] What? Nick's...that' impossible! This much damage isn't done after a Songy party!
E: I'm afraid it's the truth, Sir.
SE: Well, what happened?
E: I couldn't really say, Sir...I was in control when we went to dinner at Kobe, returned home for Brit to change, and when Jesse gave us a ride to the party. After that...Well, Sir, I'm afraid I'm not sure. I vaguely recall Id laughing, but beyond that everything is a blur.
SE: And Memory?
E: No good. Whatever she's speaking, it's not French. I think we may have sailed into uncharted waters, sir.
SE: Don't you start using nautical expressions on me, SubCommander! Don't you dare! Memory!
Memory: Je ja'ta', 'naDev SoH ghoS, 'ach ghobe' naDev lIj DIchDaq tah!
[Both look up, blinking. Both look at each other.]
E: Was that...Klingon?
SE: [Shakes head, goes back to clearing debris off Ego.] No time for that now. What about visual memory?
E: [blinks] Didn't think of that, sir. Good idea.
SE: Well, that's why they pay me the big money. Visual! Put what you have up onscreen!
[Viewscreen flickers again. The two watch as SuperEgo keeps working.]
SE: [Grimaces] Cleavage in a white shirt, with no view of the face. Typical Id. Do we have a view of her face? That could be anyone.
E: Not anyone, sir. That configuration looks new. I don't think it's anyone we know, sir.
[SuperEgo stops clearing and looks down at Ego, hands on his hips. Arches an eyebrow.]
E: [Clears throat.] Umm...I think, sir. Can't be sure.
SE: [Shakes head, resumes clearing.] You've been spending too much time around Id. What else, Visual?
E: "STOP! Josh's cup" with a backwards "J" at the bottom of a cup. Did we write that in the bottom before we started drinking? Seems dangerous.
SE: I think we wrote it on the bottom of the OUTSIDE of the cup, SubCommander.
E: Oh. That makes more sense.
SE: More Cleavage shots. Damn it, Id! We need faces!
E: Bonnie...Kris...Brit...Angie, Tori, Jen...and I think that's Tai.
SE: [Glares down at Ego.]
E: [Gulps] Sorry, sir...I have been on Id patrol more often lately, sir.
SE: [sighs] No, no...that's all right. And it appears that's the end of the file.
E: Sorry, sir.
SE: No, it's all right. Sensory control, keep scanning. Movement control, get us up and moving. I want a detailed look at our surroundings.
E: [Watching screen.] A notebook with some poem and the rules of "Circle of Death..."
SE: Oh, joy.
Memory: 一根香腸提高我！
SE: [Blinks, looks up] Thank you, Memory. What else, Ego?
E: A damp carpet, the smell of cleaner...
M: Vis steekt!
SE: Someone made a mess, no doubt.
E: The fridge...hands, can you open tha...Holy shit!
SE: [Whistles] That's a LOT of booze.
E: Yes, sir. Let's see...our phone, wallet, and key on the counter...a girl sleeping on a mattress, I'm not sure who, and...that's it, sir.
SE: [Grunts, shifts last of debris.] All right, that will do. Up, SubCommander.
[SE helps Ego up.]
E: Thank you, sir. OH! There's Nick!
SE: Excellent! Let's ask him to fill in the blanks, shall we? Maybe our third ever blackout from drinking need not remain a mystery, eh?
[Some time later...]
[SE and E sit on the bridge. Ego is clutching his hand over his mouth, clearly horrified. SuperEgo's face is tight, his eyes screwed shut, rubbing his temples.]
SE: Oh, Lord, why couldn't our third ever blackout from drinking remain a mystery?
E: We did what?!?
SE: I guess we'll have to call them the four rules, now.
E: We did WHAT?!?!?
SE: Three rules, depending on how much we took off before, possibly.
E: WE did WHAT?!?!?!?
SE: Oh, there's even pictures of us passed out. Fantastic. Hmmm...seems you were right about the female guest list, SubCommander.
E: ...did...we...what?
SE: SubCommander!
E: [Blinks, looks at SuperEgo]
SE: Plot a course. Let' go get some breakfast.
E: [Numbly nods, getting to his feet.] ...sir. Yes, sir. [Runs off.]
SE: [Shakes head.] Good lord. Some party.
Memory: You can say that again, Sir.
SE: Thank you, Memo...wait, what?
Memory: Жаль?
No comments:
Post a Comment