Pavel Andreievich Chekov

[The scene: a roof. Which roof is unclear, but, judging from the book and notebooks visible in the dim glow of the network device's screen, Chekov was probably stargazing. Of course. What else would a sensible person be doing on a roof in the middle of the night?]

I have asked this question to individuals, but I am curious: what, generally, is the opinion on becoming attached to others here? From what I have heard and read, most seem to think that suffering the loss of someone they have become close to when they leave the City is a small price to pay for companionship. Then there are a few--or maybe there are not so few as I think--who would prefer to stay unattached to avoid being hurt. Is this assessment correct?

And those who, in theory, believe that it is wisest not to grow close to people... are they successful, or do they form attachments in spite of what they believe to be best for themselves?

[His tone is one of genuine curiosity. This is not a rhetorical question.]

I am of two minds on the subject, but I dislike the thought of being alone for however long I may stay here enough to make remaining unattached distasteful. And, when I am not theorizing and simply talking to others, it is impossible not to form friendships. Even though friends will leave and forget all experiences in the City, I keep making them, and it seems very foolish and maybe reckless when I think about it--making friends, I mean--but I feel it is better to accept loss.

It is like home, in some ways. I have always been moving and now, at home, I am in a position where having friends die is very possible and has happened. Is it different, losing a friend to death and having a friend leave the City? Logically, death should be more difficult to accept, I think, but I am not finding that so.

[A contemplative pause.]

The curse where we were turned into dogs--there was a little girl who was good enough to feed me, and I would like to thank her now that I am a person again. I think she was ten, maybe, and very pale, with light hair.

As to this last weekend's curse, no, Lucy and I are not married, although she is very kind and I mean no insult to her when I say that I am pleased to be unmarried again. Sincere apologies to anyone who was anticipating the reception.


[Filtered to the Deities // Unhackable]

Hello. When you have a moment, I would like to discuss another exchange with you, please.


[COMMENTS]

[The video shows a brightly-light room, currently occupied only by Chekov (alert and chipper in spite of the late hour) and a machine on the coffee table that looks like someone's attempt to meld a computer and a microwave. The mangled electronic(s?) is clearly not the topic of this network broadcast.]

I have been thinking about the City--why it is here, who controls it truly, what powers are capable of plucking us from our own dimensions and placing us here without a detectible temporal ripple. After a month, all I can conclude is that it would be foolish to conclude much of anything other than the following: the City is strange and illogical. The stars do not move in an ascertainable pattern, I can see nothing that dictates when a curse will or will not strike an individual, the gods are crazy...

[He sighs in his usual overdone fashion--a good indicator that he's not all that frustrated--and then smiles.]

But the company is good. When I read on the network, that is what I see the most. The curses are bad, the City is terrible, we are all trapped... but the company is good.

Oh--speaking of good company, if you have not met Doctor McCoy, I think that you should. He is from my world and not only is he one of the best doctors in Starfleet, but he is also exceedingly personable and eager to meet new people.

[Anyone who is at all versed in the art of reading Chekov's facial expressions will know that this is Not True and he doesn't mean it in the least. He then hops back to something resembling seriousness.]

But I was worried, when I came here, that I would not function well in the City. It is difficult to imagine living for months or years in a place--learning all that there is to learn, meeting people and building a new life among them--with the knowledge that it will disappear. I cannot imagine living possibly years of my life only to forget them. I think, though, that no one forgets when they leave, not wholly. That is not how the brain works. We must retain something of the City even after we return home...

[This seems to be wandering into more serious territory than Chekov cares to explore. He pulls a face and moves to cut the video feed.]

But I should not talk out loud after thinking too much. These are, I am sure, all thoughts that have been on the network before. I have to share them, sometimes, because there is only room for so many thoughts in my head at once.

[The feed ends abruptly.]


[COMMENTS]