Post by krow on Feb 28, 2014 10:15:26 GMT
-Begin recording-
A Human man in his early eighties walks into frame and settles himself into a large armchair with an exaggerated sigh. The smartly dressed man crosses one leg over the other, runs a hand through his salt and pepper beard before smoothing what little hair he has left over his balding pate. He reaches over to the table next to his chair, picks up a glass and a bottle, fills the glass, and takes a sip. He leans back, relaxing slightly and begins to speak in a deep voice.
"My name is Doctor Mitchell Peterson. And this is my first and only video log. Got it? I'm not doing this again no matter what you people say. Let me see here... Well. I should start at the beginning. I was a young intern at the Bajoran Institute for Science, what, fifty years ago? Seems like half that. Anyway, I was there when the Changeling known as Odo was brought there. I remember Doctor Mora Pol's work with the being, and I assisted him with many of the tests. When the Dominion started kicking our asses a few years later, I bounced from place to place working as a doctor. A battlefield surgeon wasn't really what I had in mind when I got my degrees, but the Prophets work in mysterious ways. After the war I returned to work as a research scientist. Mostly molecular biology with some odds and ends here and there. Anything Starfleet needed, really. It was my dream job. Whenever someone asked, 'what the heck is this thing' they sent it to me and my team. Then about ten years ago it dropped into my lap. A Starfleet ship, I forget what kind, found an odd little container drifting around right smack dab in the middle of the badlands. They didn't know what to make of it, other than it had a bio-mass inside. Further scans led them to believe it was an infant Changeling. So they handed it over to the only one with any real experience with the creatures. And no, I won't call them Founders. That's a silly name. Although Changeling isn't really much better, if you ask me."
The man chortles to himself, takes a drink and lights a large cigar before taking a puff. His face is momentarily obscured by a blueish smoke cloud as he exhales.
"That's more like it. Where was I... Oh! The container. Anyway, the brass decided to dump the thing with us. They had us really crack down on security first. And I mean all the stops. The war was long over but after the little trick the shifters pulled on Earth, I could understand the precautions. We analyzed the container itself, but couldn't get a proper date on the metal. It was out there for a long time, that's for sure. But it could have been anywhere from hundreds of years to thousands. It was very old. Then we cracked it open and found a bouncing baby blob in it. Very much alive. It wasn't sentient. Heck, it was barely an animal. More like an overly energetic slime mold. It was a curious little thing. Always slithering this way and that. Growing, shrinking, feeling around and poking things. We learned a lot about it during those first few months. Theories about the entities that were previously just guesses were confirmed with the new tech we'd cooked up since the war. About the connection between the Changelings and subspace, about their rest cycles, and so much more. It was incredible. Then we started teaching it. Trying to gently coax it into self-awareness. Eeeeever so gently. Dr. Pol's method was brutish if you ask me. We had the time, so I decided to take it upon myself to show the little blob compassion and kindness. To see what came of it."
Mitch uncrosses his leg and scratches his chin before puffing out a series of perfect smoke rings at the camera.
"Call me an old softie I guess. But it paid off in spades. The thing quickly advanced to the level of a well trained dog then abruptly stopped progressing. At this point we let it freely roam parts of the facility. Keeping a close eye on it, of course. It would follow people around as they went about their business. Me especially. I wouldn't mind, except the damn thing didn't ever get out of the way. Hilarity and bruises ensued before we learned to watch our feet. Dogs will get out of the way. They don't want to get stepped on. The Changeling didn't care if you stepped on it. So we had to be careful when carrying lunch trays. The curiosity it showed was astounding. Any new object it hadn't had a chance to examine would draw its interest every time. It would poke, prod, flow into, and squeeze anything it could find. Then it started copying items. Which was a whole new level of annoying, I tell you. Ever try to put your slippers on at four in the morning to get a drink and find yourself with a warm Changeling massaging your toes? It was just plain damn weird. Sometimes it would just vanish for days then someone would grab a beaker from the back of the cabinet, and boom. Fistfull of goo. It was a game for it. Hide and seek. Except, more like a game of hide and scare your pants off."
Mitch shudders slightly and shakes his head.
"Smart enough to get the perfect color, shape, texture, and temperature of an Apple, but not smart enough to know how badly biting into an excited Changeling will scar a man. Anyway... Moving on. After about six months of shenanigans and tomfoolery, it happened. I walked into the lab to find an intern sitting on one of the tables. A Trill girl. Only problem was, I had just passed her in the hall going the other way about fifteen second earlier. She hopped off the table, almost fell on her ass, and said, 'this is weird'. I still remember it, because she took the words out of my mouth. Apparently the little blob had been hiding how much it knew over the last few months and practicing taking our forms in private. It wasn't a very convincing copy, but she learned fast. How to make the clothes fold just so. How to get all the little hairs right. It was amazing. Odo never learned this fast. He spent years living with people and he could never even get the nose right! And it was making perfect copies within weeks. Just goes to show you catch more flies with honey."
He takes another puff and follows it with some Whiskey. The old doctor tilts his head and thinks for a moment before continuing.
"I say 'it' because Novo never really picked a gender like Odo did. It would switch back and forth on a whim. So pronouns are just a headache. Oh, it got named Novo by the way. Some young Scientist thought he was being clever and smart by using old earth Latin. It means 'new' apparently. Oh yes, he's so clever. But it stuck. And Novo seemed to like it. It became... Well, I never married. I'm not that kind of guy. So I don't have any kids running around. Novo is the closest thing to a kid I have. It attached itself to me and became my shadow. I schooled it. Taught it about anatomy, math, science, and finally history. Which... I may have done too soon. Novo was always a little timid underneath all the eager curiosity. But after hearing about the War and what it was, Novo withdrew into itself. It became quiet, reserved, and horribly shy. The psychologist said it was based on a deep seated fear of not being accepted by the only people she knew, but I know better. Novo is a very peaceful creature. It wouldn't hurt anyone, and knowing it's a member of a species that was responsible for the deaths of billions? Personally, I think Novo hates itself."
He stays quiet for a long time, his dual vices almost forgotten in his hands before he rouses himself and continues yet again.
"Novo loves the Federation and everything it stands for. It idolizes us and thinks serving is Starfleet is the highest honor any living being can attain. The kid practically had stars in its eyes when it talked about it. After four years of living with us on the Station, it decided it wanted to see the world. I had schooled it as best I could. The kid is a sponge for information. Photographic memory, and all that. So I talked to Starfleet. They agreed that keeping a sentient and peaceful being like Novo on a Space Station against its will was out of the question. So after some hoop jumping, they granted Novo citizenship in the Federation. I had never seen Novo so happy. She... she broke out of her shell and hugged me. Called me dad. I saved lives in the war, but that was the first time I think I ever felt responsible for creating it. I'm getting choked up just thinking about it."
He chuckles and wipes his eyes on a handkerchief then resumes drinking and smoking.
"I needed a vacation, so I went with him to Earth. Her. It. Whatever, you know who I mean! Ever hear the saying, 'like a kid in a candy shop'? Well Novo was in heaven. All the new sights, sounds, and most importantly all the shapes. There was a small problem though. Not everyone liked Changelings, and Novo was used to taking whatever shape it wanted whenever it wanted. I wasn't scared for its safety. I know she can take care of himself. Itself. Bah! But I was worried about its feelings. Which, took quite the beating. Novo started picking only one form for an outing and would only change in private. I showed it the world as best I could. Then the inevitable happened. Novo decided to apply for Starfleet Academy. I had to remind Novo that it had only been sentient for only a few years, and that the Academy had an age limit. Of course, Novo reminded me that it's technically been alive for hundreds if not thousands of years. So I lost that one pretty hard and Novo applied. There was some... misgivings with the Admiralty. But they let it in eventually. Not like they could turn Novo down without looking like racists. Or is it speciesists."
The old man cackles and grinds his cigar into an ash tray.
"I sorta lost contact with the kid after that. I heard from it from time to time saying little things like how the classes were going et cetera. But Novo was far too busy to give me too much thought. Four years later, I watched a young redheaded Human girl graduate with honors. I'm not ashamed to admit I cried like an old woman. But she had changed... Something happened to her at the academy. Her curiosity and mischievous impishness was gone and replaced with something I couldn't really place. I couldn't really ask her about it. She was so distant in the little time we had before she left on her first assignment. Then she was gone. Left to go work on some Starbase as security of all things. I haven't seen her since. I just hope maybe someday she'll go back to the Novo I know and love. Oh dear, look at me. I started calling it a her. I do that sometimes. I guess maybe because I always wanted a daughter more than a son. Anyway, that's all I have to say on the matter. My little blob is in Starfleet's hands now."
Doctor Mitchell Peterson downs the last of his drink and stares down into the glass for a few minutes before letting out a long sigh. He calmly gets up, straightens his jacket, and walks out of frame.
-End of recording-
A Human man in his early eighties walks into frame and settles himself into a large armchair with an exaggerated sigh. The smartly dressed man crosses one leg over the other, runs a hand through his salt and pepper beard before smoothing what little hair he has left over his balding pate. He reaches over to the table next to his chair, picks up a glass and a bottle, fills the glass, and takes a sip. He leans back, relaxing slightly and begins to speak in a deep voice.
"My name is Doctor Mitchell Peterson. And this is my first and only video log. Got it? I'm not doing this again no matter what you people say. Let me see here... Well. I should start at the beginning. I was a young intern at the Bajoran Institute for Science, what, fifty years ago? Seems like half that. Anyway, I was there when the Changeling known as Odo was brought there. I remember Doctor Mora Pol's work with the being, and I assisted him with many of the tests. When the Dominion started kicking our asses a few years later, I bounced from place to place working as a doctor. A battlefield surgeon wasn't really what I had in mind when I got my degrees, but the Prophets work in mysterious ways. After the war I returned to work as a research scientist. Mostly molecular biology with some odds and ends here and there. Anything Starfleet needed, really. It was my dream job. Whenever someone asked, 'what the heck is this thing' they sent it to me and my team. Then about ten years ago it dropped into my lap. A Starfleet ship, I forget what kind, found an odd little container drifting around right smack dab in the middle of the badlands. They didn't know what to make of it, other than it had a bio-mass inside. Further scans led them to believe it was an infant Changeling. So they handed it over to the only one with any real experience with the creatures. And no, I won't call them Founders. That's a silly name. Although Changeling isn't really much better, if you ask me."
The man chortles to himself, takes a drink and lights a large cigar before taking a puff. His face is momentarily obscured by a blueish smoke cloud as he exhales.
"That's more like it. Where was I... Oh! The container. Anyway, the brass decided to dump the thing with us. They had us really crack down on security first. And I mean all the stops. The war was long over but after the little trick the shifters pulled on Earth, I could understand the precautions. We analyzed the container itself, but couldn't get a proper date on the metal. It was out there for a long time, that's for sure. But it could have been anywhere from hundreds of years to thousands. It was very old. Then we cracked it open and found a bouncing baby blob in it. Very much alive. It wasn't sentient. Heck, it was barely an animal. More like an overly energetic slime mold. It was a curious little thing. Always slithering this way and that. Growing, shrinking, feeling around and poking things. We learned a lot about it during those first few months. Theories about the entities that were previously just guesses were confirmed with the new tech we'd cooked up since the war. About the connection between the Changelings and subspace, about their rest cycles, and so much more. It was incredible. Then we started teaching it. Trying to gently coax it into self-awareness. Eeeeever so gently. Dr. Pol's method was brutish if you ask me. We had the time, so I decided to take it upon myself to show the little blob compassion and kindness. To see what came of it."
Mitch uncrosses his leg and scratches his chin before puffing out a series of perfect smoke rings at the camera.
"Call me an old softie I guess. But it paid off in spades. The thing quickly advanced to the level of a well trained dog then abruptly stopped progressing. At this point we let it freely roam parts of the facility. Keeping a close eye on it, of course. It would follow people around as they went about their business. Me especially. I wouldn't mind, except the damn thing didn't ever get out of the way. Hilarity and bruises ensued before we learned to watch our feet. Dogs will get out of the way. They don't want to get stepped on. The Changeling didn't care if you stepped on it. So we had to be careful when carrying lunch trays. The curiosity it showed was astounding. Any new object it hadn't had a chance to examine would draw its interest every time. It would poke, prod, flow into, and squeeze anything it could find. Then it started copying items. Which was a whole new level of annoying, I tell you. Ever try to put your slippers on at four in the morning to get a drink and find yourself with a warm Changeling massaging your toes? It was just plain damn weird. Sometimes it would just vanish for days then someone would grab a beaker from the back of the cabinet, and boom. Fistfull of goo. It was a game for it. Hide and seek. Except, more like a game of hide and scare your pants off."
Mitch shudders slightly and shakes his head.
"Smart enough to get the perfect color, shape, texture, and temperature of an Apple, but not smart enough to know how badly biting into an excited Changeling will scar a man. Anyway... Moving on. After about six months of shenanigans and tomfoolery, it happened. I walked into the lab to find an intern sitting on one of the tables. A Trill girl. Only problem was, I had just passed her in the hall going the other way about fifteen second earlier. She hopped off the table, almost fell on her ass, and said, 'this is weird'. I still remember it, because she took the words out of my mouth. Apparently the little blob had been hiding how much it knew over the last few months and practicing taking our forms in private. It wasn't a very convincing copy, but she learned fast. How to make the clothes fold just so. How to get all the little hairs right. It was amazing. Odo never learned this fast. He spent years living with people and he could never even get the nose right! And it was making perfect copies within weeks. Just goes to show you catch more flies with honey."
He takes another puff and follows it with some Whiskey. The old doctor tilts his head and thinks for a moment before continuing.
"I say 'it' because Novo never really picked a gender like Odo did. It would switch back and forth on a whim. So pronouns are just a headache. Oh, it got named Novo by the way. Some young Scientist thought he was being clever and smart by using old earth Latin. It means 'new' apparently. Oh yes, he's so clever. But it stuck. And Novo seemed to like it. It became... Well, I never married. I'm not that kind of guy. So I don't have any kids running around. Novo is the closest thing to a kid I have. It attached itself to me and became my shadow. I schooled it. Taught it about anatomy, math, science, and finally history. Which... I may have done too soon. Novo was always a little timid underneath all the eager curiosity. But after hearing about the War and what it was, Novo withdrew into itself. It became quiet, reserved, and horribly shy. The psychologist said it was based on a deep seated fear of not being accepted by the only people she knew, but I know better. Novo is a very peaceful creature. It wouldn't hurt anyone, and knowing it's a member of a species that was responsible for the deaths of billions? Personally, I think Novo hates itself."
He stays quiet for a long time, his dual vices almost forgotten in his hands before he rouses himself and continues yet again.
"Novo loves the Federation and everything it stands for. It idolizes us and thinks serving is Starfleet is the highest honor any living being can attain. The kid practically had stars in its eyes when it talked about it. After four years of living with us on the Station, it decided it wanted to see the world. I had schooled it as best I could. The kid is a sponge for information. Photographic memory, and all that. So I talked to Starfleet. They agreed that keeping a sentient and peaceful being like Novo on a Space Station against its will was out of the question. So after some hoop jumping, they granted Novo citizenship in the Federation. I had never seen Novo so happy. She... she broke out of her shell and hugged me. Called me dad. I saved lives in the war, but that was the first time I think I ever felt responsible for creating it. I'm getting choked up just thinking about it."
He chuckles and wipes his eyes on a handkerchief then resumes drinking and smoking.
"I needed a vacation, so I went with him to Earth. Her. It. Whatever, you know who I mean! Ever hear the saying, 'like a kid in a candy shop'? Well Novo was in heaven. All the new sights, sounds, and most importantly all the shapes. There was a small problem though. Not everyone liked Changelings, and Novo was used to taking whatever shape it wanted whenever it wanted. I wasn't scared for its safety. I know she can take care of himself. Itself. Bah! But I was worried about its feelings. Which, took quite the beating. Novo started picking only one form for an outing and would only change in private. I showed it the world as best I could. Then the inevitable happened. Novo decided to apply for Starfleet Academy. I had to remind Novo that it had only been sentient for only a few years, and that the Academy had an age limit. Of course, Novo reminded me that it's technically been alive for hundreds if not thousands of years. So I lost that one pretty hard and Novo applied. There was some... misgivings with the Admiralty. But they let it in eventually. Not like they could turn Novo down without looking like racists. Or is it speciesists."
The old man cackles and grinds his cigar into an ash tray.
"I sorta lost contact with the kid after that. I heard from it from time to time saying little things like how the classes were going et cetera. But Novo was far too busy to give me too much thought. Four years later, I watched a young redheaded Human girl graduate with honors. I'm not ashamed to admit I cried like an old woman. But she had changed... Something happened to her at the academy. Her curiosity and mischievous impishness was gone and replaced with something I couldn't really place. I couldn't really ask her about it. She was so distant in the little time we had before she left on her first assignment. Then she was gone. Left to go work on some Starbase as security of all things. I haven't seen her since. I just hope maybe someday she'll go back to the Novo I know and love. Oh dear, look at me. I started calling it a her. I do that sometimes. I guess maybe because I always wanted a daughter more than a son. Anyway, that's all I have to say on the matter. My little blob is in Starfleet's hands now."
Doctor Mitchell Peterson downs the last of his drink and stares down into the glass for a few minutes before letting out a long sigh. He calmly gets up, straightens his jacket, and walks out of frame.
-End of recording-