Post by Holodoc on Mar 24, 2002 11:23:21 GMT -5
An excerpt from a draft of the novel "Men of Light" I'm working on. It's actually something I hope will become a reality in a miniseries of three books when all is said and done. Will my abbreviated attention span rise to the occasion?
Enjoy, and feedback welcome.
Morval remembered the one time he was activated for medical use. The Chief Medical Officer aboard the USS Will Rogers had been knocked unconscious when the ship momentarily lost its Inertial Dampers during a squabble with the Maquis. The EMH’s activation was triggered when the doctor’s lifesigns dipped. Morval tended to the officer and several engineers, referring to a vast database at his disposal. He promptly diagnosed and treated them all, saving several lives.
At the time, concepts such as exhiliration and pride were incomprehensible swells, which manifested into what the crew interpreted as arrogance. In time, the hologram learned to temper his behavior, and found that he had begun to develop a rapport with his peers. He was active for two days, until the CMO was well enough to return to his post.
As per the dictates of his programming, Morval deactivated himself, oblivious to that concept and what it entailed.
Morval’s next experience was in the hololabs of a Federation mining outpost. He was disoriented by the sudden change of scenery, but that was to be expected according to the dictates of his programming. Therefore, he made no gesture to indicate this; his perceptual subroutines continually received confirmation that the phenomenon was normal.
What wasn’t normal was that he forgot what to say. He recalled distinctly that there was a treatment protocol he had to follow, beginning with a phrase or greeting. He was certain of this. But there was repeated confirmation that all was normal; even his momentary disorientation returned a normal flag.
How disturbing.
All these commiserations filtered through Morval's neural pathways over the course of a few seconds. The expressions on his face shifted rapidly, and would have afforded the engineer on duty much amusement, had the officer not observed this each time a reprogrammed hologram was brought online.
Morval underwent a series of cognitive and intelligence tests. He found it odd that they weren't so much about medicine as they were geared towards chemistry and geology. 'Perhaps it's for the best,' he thought at the time, 'I can't seem to recall any medical procedures. I should run a self-diagnostic of my surgical subroutines…' Again the indication that everything was normal.
A tricorder was placed into his hands. Morval panicked for a moment internally. He forgot how to use one, and this particular model he had actually never seen before. He looked up at the instructor, eyes wide with anxiety.
The human, a Commander by rank, smiled. "Open it," he said calmly.
Morval opened the tricorder, then sighed with relief. This was familiar. He looked up and smiled back.
©D. David
Enjoy, and feedback welcome.
Morval remembered the one time he was activated for medical use. The Chief Medical Officer aboard the USS Will Rogers had been knocked unconscious when the ship momentarily lost its Inertial Dampers during a squabble with the Maquis. The EMH’s activation was triggered when the doctor’s lifesigns dipped. Morval tended to the officer and several engineers, referring to a vast database at his disposal. He promptly diagnosed and treated them all, saving several lives.
At the time, concepts such as exhiliration and pride were incomprehensible swells, which manifested into what the crew interpreted as arrogance. In time, the hologram learned to temper his behavior, and found that he had begun to develop a rapport with his peers. He was active for two days, until the CMO was well enough to return to his post.
As per the dictates of his programming, Morval deactivated himself, oblivious to that concept and what it entailed.
Morval’s next experience was in the hololabs of a Federation mining outpost. He was disoriented by the sudden change of scenery, but that was to be expected according to the dictates of his programming. Therefore, he made no gesture to indicate this; his perceptual subroutines continually received confirmation that the phenomenon was normal.
What wasn’t normal was that he forgot what to say. He recalled distinctly that there was a treatment protocol he had to follow, beginning with a phrase or greeting. He was certain of this. But there was repeated confirmation that all was normal; even his momentary disorientation returned a normal flag.
How disturbing.
All these commiserations filtered through Morval's neural pathways over the course of a few seconds. The expressions on his face shifted rapidly, and would have afforded the engineer on duty much amusement, had the officer not observed this each time a reprogrammed hologram was brought online.
Morval underwent a series of cognitive and intelligence tests. He found it odd that they weren't so much about medicine as they were geared towards chemistry and geology. 'Perhaps it's for the best,' he thought at the time, 'I can't seem to recall any medical procedures. I should run a self-diagnostic of my surgical subroutines…' Again the indication that everything was normal.
A tricorder was placed into his hands. Morval panicked for a moment internally. He forgot how to use one, and this particular model he had actually never seen before. He looked up at the instructor, eyes wide with anxiety.
The human, a Commander by rank, smiled. "Open it," he said calmly.
Morval opened the tricorder, then sighed with relief. This was familiar. He looked up and smiled back.
©D. David
