Subject: Onset of cabin fever

<<47307.18 6:10>>
<<Sickbay>>


Vincent looked down at his newly regenerated hands. His hands
were a bit pink, probably because they hadn't seen the light of day in
their reborn lives. The doctors told him that they weren't in top
condition, considering the tissue damage that had been done. They also
said he wouldn't be ready for work for at least a day, until his hands
built up the strength once again to handle heavy trays of food. Being
only a couple of hours old, they could barely hold onto a PADD.
His knees had faired a little better. Though they were fairly
singed by the vaporization of the tubing under him, they had faired much
better than he would have thought. Federation medicine was very good at
treating things, as long as you took the right medication.
Vincent's thoughts were disturbed by the female nurse approaching.
She carried an item in her right hands. A pair of modified spectacles he
had asked for to help him with his work. They were modified to work with
PADDs as optical pointers to allow people to do work when their hands are
busy (or regenerated, as in his case). Vincent had heard that in the 21st
century, they had been known as "Mouse eyes", but from the way the pair of
glasses looked, he couldn't see where people could get a mouse out of it.
Vincent took the pair of glasses into his hands. Though they were
fairly light, he had a hard time holding on to them. Slowly, he eased
them into his pocket, not wanting to wear them. He had heard stories
about the eye strain they cause, and the monster headaches from too much
use.
The nurse then handed Vincent a small device. Obvious to Vincent,
it was the interface connector between the Mouse-eyes and the PADD. He
thought about it a moment, then decided that Federation probably had it
encoded so that the computer wouldn't interact with the glasses as well.
Just as well for Vincent, considering he had gotten along thus far without
the computer.
Vincent nodded to the nurse as she finished dictating the doctor's
orders. Satisfied that her patient was ready to be discharged, she told
him to take it easy today, then turned to go about her own duties.
Vincent turned the other way, then headed out the door.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
<<47307.18 8:23>>
<<Vincent's quarters>>

Vincent laid down in his bed, his eyes glancing over the sparsely
decorated room. The walls were gray and bare, and seamlessly merged with
an equally bare floor. The only furnature in the room was a bed, chair,
and small desk. The desk and bed frame matched the dark gray of the
walls. The chair was black in frame, with gray cushions specially
contoured to fit his body without causing unnecessary back strain. The
colors were meant only to be a background for pictures, plaques, and
assorted paraphenalia. Instead, the dark grey enveloped the room,
gobbling up all the light, all the hopes and dreams aboard the ship.
Vincent tapped a button underneath the bed to open the storage
space underneath. With a mechanical *whoosh* the container slid open, to
reveal a small pile of clothes. Vincent shuffled through the clothes from
his position on top of the bed until he found what he was looking for. A
small hypospray glistened in a chrome whiteness that was almost enveloped
by the greyness of its surroundings.
Inside the hypospray was everything Vincent needed at this moment,
but could not have. Not sure as to whether the verbocain would have any
bad side effects, Vincent didn't want to risk another seizure. He
wouldn't have a chance to hide the hypospray then. Dispairingly, he
dropped the hypospray on top of the clothing and pushed the button to
close the container back. Moments later, he turned his attention to his
desk.
Upon his desk was the soul possession Starfleet would let him
carry on board. Enclosed in a small frame, the picture would appear to be
from somewhere on Earth, by the species of oak in the background. In the
middle of the picture stood a young woman. She was well dressed in the
latest in 24th century style. Her hair was light brown, almost hinting at
blond. She would be considered beautiful by many standards, even with the
slight bulge in her belly. The picture, of course, was of Vincent's
mother.
Vincent looked away from the picture and looked around at the
walls surrounding him. Their greyness taunted him, telling him his hopes
and dreams, no matter what they were, would be shattered. All in him
would die, and all that would be left would be a shell of a man.
Groaning, Vincent took the pillow out from under his head and
covered his face with it. He needed the verbocain badly. He needed to
get away from all this pain. The work he could handle, but the free time
was what was killing him. *But, what can you do when you can't even
operate a holodeck* Vincent thought.
Finally, Vincent had had enough. He rolled out of bed and onto
his feet, taking care to look at his new hands in case he may have damaged
them. Satisfied that they were in good condition, he quickly dressed and
pressed the button to open his door. Stepping outside, Vincent turned to
go out for a little walk.

--Ken Doman
ICQ: 8178648
Chivalry is not dead!
It's in a trailer park in Michigan with Elvis and Bigfoot.
Acting chivalrous is a way of hiding the fact that
you haven't a clue as to how to deal with women.