Ten Forward Social Lounge

Data is familiar with Ten Forward. Theoretically, he's familiar with all areas aboard the Enterprise, regardless of whether or not he should ever have reason to visit them during his service. Knowing one's way around the vessel they serve on is a necessary designation of memory space, by his reasoning.

Therefore, his issue with finding himself in Ten Forward is less with the location itself, and more with the fact that by his recollection, he'd been on the bridge .04 seconds ago. Internal chronometer diagnostics show no error, and diagnostics on a broader scope indicate no discrepancies in his software or hardware. But the current situation itself indicates that he must be experiencing some form of malfunction.

On that account, Data spends a few seconds surveying his surroundings with all the grace and blatant curiosity of a mildly affronted bird.

He can only conclude that this is Ten Forward. Those are Starfleet personnel. Yet not all of the individuals present reconcile with his knowledge of current personnel or civilian passengers. And there's undoubtedly a difference between his own uniform and the uniforms that the Starfleet personnel are wearing. Data aims to get the attention of the nearest person with a tap on the shoulder and a gentle "excuse me," the first of what may become a string of interrogative questing through Ten Forward to the nearest wall intercom; it would appear his combadge is no longer properly calibrated. He could theoretically re-calibrate his badge if necessary, and will likely do so regardless, but in a relatively urgent situation, haste could be said to take priority.

"Query." And here he pauses, surveying the lounge as though he'll mysteriously notice something that escaped his initial observations. Inconclusive. Nothing to miss. "How did I get here?"

It has long been considered a human condition to forget one's purpose when one reaches their intended destination, and that in itself bears a certain fascination. If he were capable of minor memory lapses of that nature, he would hardly need to question it. Not being capable of such lapses, however, leaves him lacking in logical explanations. His hope is that contacting the bridge or one of the bridge crew will put things into order.


If all else fails, he's likely to return to the scene of the incident later on in the day (or... the night), presumably with a more temporally-current uniform to his name. Be warned, however, that this is the point where interrogative questing has flipped over into his usual habits of personal questions and blatant human observance. He's open for conversation, but incredibly long-winded. That's a relatively standard risk when he's present.