beverly crusher, md (
ethnobotany) wrote in
ten_fwd2015-10-03 01:37 pm
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we're gonna party like it's 1920 in New Orleans ( OPEN )
The holodeck party had been designed as a funeral-type gathering, originally for Fatima and Beverly to let go of some of the trauma they had incurred at the hands of COMPASS. It had evolved since then, turning into a larger party without losing its original purpose. Spread mostly by word of mouth, the party ended up being larger than Beverly had expected, but likely just what Fatima had wanted. All were welcome, as long as they didn't cause trouble.
The setting was the streets of New Orleans in the 1920's. In the middle of one large street was where the party would be held. There were tables with all manner of replicated food. Annie had offered to find out what would be good to set up and they had used her information to find something that nearly everyone would like. Drinks were the same. Plenty of Earth varieties and plenty of others. Surely everyone could find something to enjoy.
There were plenty of holographic people around as well, dressed to the '20's fashions, or as close as this far in the future could get. Some of them introduced the music and the dance floor. It was more of a dance street than anything, but it counted. Everyone was welcome to join them and the party turned into a bit of celebration amidst everything else. The music itself kept changing, rotating through what the Enterprise systems had on file. One minute it might be classical. The next it was something entirely different. Everything imaginable would probably have played by the night's end.
Or whenever the party actually ended.
A little bit away from the main drag, the holodeck had been programmed to create an alley between two brick-walled buildings. Unrealistically, the alley was clean and dry. Illuminating it were three trash cans along one of the walls, filled with kindling and crackling with golden flames. Holographic flames, of course, as much as Fatima had wanted to use the real thing. By the cans was a small table, with slips of stiff parchment and pens in every possible color there was.
It had taken some doing, but Fatima had programmed the holodeck to include a chalk drawing on the wall over the cans. It was a swirling pink and purple and blue rendering of the Milky Way galaxy. In yellow stars, a simple message was written out:
Write the names of those you left behind…
Cast them into the fire to say goodbye…
The party had been originally been conceived as a funeral, after all. A way to let go of the past and face the future, no matter how uncertain. There wouldn’t be any bodies, but there was still a place to say goodbye.
The setting was the streets of New Orleans in the 1920's. In the middle of one large street was where the party would be held. There were tables with all manner of replicated food. Annie had offered to find out what would be good to set up and they had used her information to find something that nearly everyone would like. Drinks were the same. Plenty of Earth varieties and plenty of others. Surely everyone could find something to enjoy.
There were plenty of holographic people around as well, dressed to the '20's fashions, or as close as this far in the future could get. Some of them introduced the music and the dance floor. It was more of a dance street than anything, but it counted. Everyone was welcome to join them and the party turned into a bit of celebration amidst everything else. The music itself kept changing, rotating through what the Enterprise systems had on file. One minute it might be classical. The next it was something entirely different. Everything imaginable would probably have played by the night's end.
Or whenever the party actually ended.
A little bit away from the main drag, the holodeck had been programmed to create an alley between two brick-walled buildings. Unrealistically, the alley was clean and dry. Illuminating it were three trash cans along one of the walls, filled with kindling and crackling with golden flames. Holographic flames, of course, as much as Fatima had wanted to use the real thing. By the cans was a small table, with slips of stiff parchment and pens in every possible color there was.
It had taken some doing, but Fatima had programmed the holodeck to include a chalk drawing on the wall over the cans. It was a swirling pink and purple and blue rendering of the Milky Way galaxy. In yellow stars, a simple message was written out:
Cast them into the fire to say goodbye…
The party had been originally been conceived as a funeral, after all. A way to let go of the past and face the future, no matter how uncertain. There wouldn’t be any bodies, but there was still a place to say goodbye.
Ishka OTA
But even if Ferenginar was fine, was better than it had ever been, she had ties to the Federation now. And the Starfleet Nog served in would be feeling this for a long time yet. And she couldn't forget that she'd gotten caught up in it in a very personal way for a time.
Still when she contemplates what to write on the parchment, the words never quite materialize. Something has changes. But what was she really leaving behind?
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On one of her return trips, she noticed Ishka. Even after all of her experience, both at home and in Zelien, with different species, she had to admit, this one threw her for a loop. The first thought to pop into her mind was of a picture book her mother used to read to her, about a family of trolls, living together in an enchanted forest. The stranger looked just like one of those trolls.
Except without the neon pink hair.
She smiled politely, before turning to one of the trash cans. She could do this. She could let Jefferson go.
With a deep breath, she tossed the paper with his name on it into the fire.
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Call it a species trait. Ferengi lived their lives focused on acquisition. This is more... liquidation. And no one like a liquidator.
She glances around at the crowd. Coming and going from this spot. "Seems a common problem." No one else seems quite stuck on what they're even letting go of.
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Or something.
"No," she agreed, watching the piece of paper crinkle and brown. "Guess I figured a symbolic gesture would just be a good way to get started."
She paused. And frowned. "Not working so well so far."
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"Q picked a strange time." The war was over. Ferenginar was improving. Ferenginar was in the best hands she could imagine. And now she was here.
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Still. A strange time wasn't necessarily bad. And not that Fatima knew a damn thing about this woman's race, but she didn't exactly seem...broken. Not in the same way that some other people she'd met were.
Politely, Fatima extended a hand. "Fatima Merali. Earth, 2009."
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She wasn't sure what business she was going to want customers for yet, but there would be one. So she shook the hand. "Ishka. Ferenginar, stardate 52902. Was supposed to be retiring on Risa right now."
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Thus proving that the mutliverse had a weird sense of humor.
Fatima shook her hand. She had a firm handshake. Liam had always told her that no one respected a woman with a soft hand. "It's nice to meet you. I wish I knew what Ferenginar or Risa were. I think I'm still kinda playing catch-up here."
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Although she was slowly learning that wasn't a foregone conclusion here.
"Why didn't they want you in business?" she asked.
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"Zekky had just changed all that though." Not that it had actually stopped her before. But it was better for it to be legal. It should have never been the way it was.
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Still. It was weird to think of aliens being as stupid as humans.
"Well, 'Zekky' sounds pretty rad," she said.
Look who found her late old tags...
And Risa. It was time for Risa.
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And even if it sounded a little hackneyed, it did sort of have the same sentiment behind it.
"How many rules are there?"
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She shook her head. "You'll have to teach me some of the others sometime."
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A few of her own too.
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Grainne knew Ferengi from her time on Quadratus, or at least pictures. Many of the races in this universe were familiar from Quadratus, though there were major differences, too, like the Federation.
Curious, she stepped closer when she realized the lady hesitated over her paper. That simple action plucked a string in Grainne's heart, a familiarity.
"It's hard, I know. It's all right."
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Maybe it would have made sense.
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