Computer, Load Recreational Program Seven
Posted on March 15th, 2001 by Phillip Shaeffer

“Computer, load recreational program seven.”

A few minutes later, Doctor Shaeffer sat hunched over his terminal, forehead creased with concentration as he sought an opening, an opportunity for advance. The game was not going well- he appeared to have only a few moves left. The fingers of his right hand drummed idly on the desk as his eyes searched the screen…

A-ha. There, he found the weakness he sought. He moved one stack onto the exposed King of Diamonds, and turned over the card beneath it. Perfect, he thought happily, the fourth Ace! He finished the game quickly, stacking the cards on the piles of their respective colors. As the last King fell into place, the cards began spiraling around the edge of the display.

Technology beyond the wildest dreams of our forebears, he thought, and I’m using it to play Solitaire. Phillip laughed a little as he reached back, locked his hands, and stretched. I should find somebody on the ship who plays chess or Double Fanucci…

He was startled when his door suddenly hissed open. A young-looking starbase technician peeked in, looking quite alarmed to see him. “Uh, uh, I’m sorry sir,” she stammered. “I didn’t think anybody would be still on board- I was told the crew were on shore leave and I needed to access a panel just inside your doorway for some quick maintenance and I didn’t mean to disturb you and I can come back later if you want me to…”

Phil stood and smiled. “No, no, no, that’s quite alright. I was just on my way out anyway.” Besides, he thought, I probably shouldn’t spend my leave playing cards in my cabin. The technician was obviously relieved as Phil pushed his seat in and headed through the door.

 

Six hours later, Doctor Phillip Shaeffer was back in Chicago, his old college town, sitting in a favorite bar with an old friend, Nicholas Rodina. The ink was still fresh on Nick’s doctorate in xenobiological chemistry. Nick grinned as he worked on a tall mug of beer. “You seem a little quiet tonight, Phil. Something on your mind?”

Yes, Phil didn’t say. “No… not really.” Everything I’d thought about Star Fleet service was wrong. “I just feel a little nostalgic, being back in our old dive again.” Star Fleet personnel aren’t phaser-happy warmongers blowing away aliens. They’re good people searching for truth. Like us. “Sure brings back memories, doesn’t it?” I like and admire the brave men and women with whom I work. I wish I could interact with them better.

“Yeah, it sure does,” laughed Nick. “Remember when Bannerman was so hung over he vomited during his calculus final? And the time that…” Phil laughed and smiled as the conversation went on, but his heart just wasn’t in it. He couldn’t help thinking that it was a good thing Nick was too inebriated to tell; he didn’t want to hurt his friend’s feelings.

A week later, he stood in his old office at CERN. Apparently the room had not been reassigned; the desk was still where he’d left it and the furniture showed no signs of having been used. A periodic table of the elements still hung on the wall; it had been there since long before Phil acquired the office, and in all likelihood would remain for decades to come. He seated himself in his old chair and stared at the periodic as he thought of the research he’d conducted here.

I’ve learned more in my brief time aboard the Atlantis than I did my thirty months here. We all thought that Truth could be found here in an ivory tower, far away from the Real Universe. We believed that we were so much wiser than anybody else… We were wrong. All the answers we seek… all the knowledge we crave so desperately… It’s all Out There. We bind ourselves within a nutshell, and count ourselves as wise because we spend our lives studying that tiny space…

I’m a fool. Shaeffer suddenly rose and walked out of his old office. This wasn’t where he needed to be.

 

Sitting at his desk in his quarters aboard the Atlantis, Phil painstakingly composed a memo to the Admiral.

To: Admiral Zuriyev

From: Dr. Shaeffer

Subject: Proposed research project

Sir, as per your orders, all research on the world-line transitional phasing device has been discontinued. The data has been erased from my personal terminal and all terminals on which I have conducted preliminary research. I consider the project indefinitely suspended. I have attached a project synopsis and summary of my findings to this message (see below). Please notify me if you require and further information on this topic.

Phil leaned back and smiled. “Computer, send message.” As the computer chirped its compliance, he couldn’t help but laugh at himself- Who would have thought that Phillip Shaeffer would ever respect an Admiral? Still smiling, he walked to his window and gazed out among the stars. Even now, many crew were returning to the ship… their home… My home, now. This is the greatest adventure of my life, he thought, and it has only just begun.