MSTed: Way of Harmony Pt 1 (1/2)
DynaYellow
in a somewhat unreadable form...). I proudly present the first part of
"Way of Harmony."
---begin here! It's fun!---
(On the SOL. Mike enters wearing a Wisconsin U. shirt, and carrying a beer
stein)
MIKE: Hi everybody, my name's Mike Nelson, and today I'm trying to help
Tom Servo and Crow learn more of what it's like to be human by staging a
simulation of college here. You know it was really kind of fun dragging
this stuff out...
(Tom comes flying down from the ceiling and lands with a thud)
MIKE: The Hell!? Tom, are you all right?
(Mike picks Tom up. He is wearing a shirt with the Greek letters Beta
Omicron Theata on it. His dome is dented, and he has a mini-beer stein
taped to his hands)
TOM: (woozy) Yeah, I think so... when's the Jell-O wrestling?
CROW: (from ceiling) Dude! You didn't kick far enough!
MIKE: Guys, how many times have I told you, we have to get a pool
before you can do pool jumping!
(Crow falls from the ceiling as well. Commercial sign lights.)
MIKE: We'll be right back.
(Mentos ahoy!)
MIKE: So you guys started your own fraternity, huh?
CROW: Yeah, and BOT is only open to *our* kind of people!
TOM: Yeah, and you can't come to our party unless your in the frat!
CROW: Yeah, and don't let us catch you hangin' around our women!
MIKE: What women?
(Gypsy enters with a large blonde wig)
MIKE: Who's the new girl?
GYPSY: Dee Zee Woo!
(flashing lights)
MIKE: Oh, jeez, the Vice-Presidents of Alumni Affairs are calling...
(Deep 13.)
DR. F: Ah, Rah Rah! Nelson... Well, I'm in a good mood today, Frank and I
just got the entire Greek Council taken off suspension...
(SOL)
MIKE: You guys are soooo evil...
(Deep 13)
DR. F: Oh, bite my Alpha Omicron, Flounder, and get on with the invention
exchange.
(SOL)
MIKE: Well, sirs, our invention exchange is the Residence Life Preserver.
It helps you stay alive, while still enjoy all the zany antics of college
life.
(Crow enters wearing the Life Preserver, which looks like a normal life
preserver with a cup holder for storing brewskis. There's a Igloo cooler
attached to the back.)
MIKE: Say you're at a typical party, and as usual, you get drunk and fall
out a second-story window! The Residence Life Preserver automatically
inflates to protect your head and other vital areas.
(the jacket does so)
TOM: And, as an additional feature, once you're on the ground, a
micro-computer built into the device, activates a homing beacon, rushing
the paramedics directly to you. A miniature umbrella is also installed to
deflect the urine your fraternity brothers will... er... anyway...
MIKE: What do you think sirs?
(Deep 13)
DR. F.: Very good, Nelson! I'm sure we'll be able to make a handsome
profit off that!
FRANK: Can I get my letters on it?
DR. F.: Oh, shut up and get the invention, Frank.
(Frank does so)
DR. F.: As you know, Mike, sports departments around the world depend on
the athletic skills of it's member in order to rake in the mega-bucks for
their department and school. But those darn academics over in the
humanities insist on making them pass courses in order to stay in sports.
In an effort to help these brave souls in their struggle to bring in funds
to a faceless institution, I've developed "Athletic Cliff Notes."
(Frank pulls out several huge notebooks)
FRANK: Yeah, why bother to read a book and memorize long words like
"symbolism," when Athletic Cliff Notes can tell you what's going on in
one, easy-to-copy sentence! Like this one: "Moby Dick is about a whale, I
think."
DR. F.: Or "Sister Carrie:" "It's about a woman, I think."
FRANK: Or "The Catcher in the Rye:" "It's about a guy who doesn't get
laid, I think."
DR. F.: Guarenteed to get you an "A" in any course weighted for atheletes.
FRANK: Or business adminstration majors.
DR. F.: Your experiment today is 100% healthy. It contains no fat, sodium,
sugar, or apostrophes. It's a fanfic for Deep Space Nine called "Way of
Harmony."
(SoL)
ALL: FANFIC SIGN!!!!
6...5...4...3...2...1...
>Subject: DS9: The Way Of Harmony(1/3)
TOM: New Way of Harmony with only one-third the calories!
CROW: Containst the ipecac: DS9
MIKE: Hey... I like Deep Space Nine.
CROW: Well, that's *your* neurosis, Nelson.
>From: cr...@applelink.apple.com (Cream)
CROW: Cream? Disco, no!!!
TOM: No!!!
MIKE: No, no. Cream wasn't a disco band, it was that song by the guy who
used to be Prince.
TOM: So it's a Prince album?
CROW: I hope not.
>Date: Tue, 5 Apr 1994 15:16:46 GMT
>Message-ID: <cream-050494100933@macdyn6_226.pb.wes.mot.com
>
>This story takes place shortly before the episode, "The Nagus."
>Please send comments to cr...@applelink.apple.com.
TOM: (chuckles evilly)
>STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE
CROW: (announcer voice) DS9, All the technobabble of The Next Generation,
with none of the characterization!
MIKE: Hey!
>THE WAY OF HARMONY
MIKE: Oh, *please* don't let this be a 60's retrospective...
TOM: Peace, love, and Tricorders...
> Cold and dark, but oh, so much fun.
TOM: The Republican party wants you!
> Here it is- my hideout.
CROW: I have my magazines 'n' stuff up here -- it's really cool. I don't
let anybody up here who's not in the club.
> Oh, wow, cool... I- ouch...
> Watch it.
TOM: What's goin' on?
MIKE: I don't know...
> Howd you find a way in here? This whole deck has been sealed off
>since the Cardassians left.
TOM: Who's talking? Is this somone talking?
CROW: Is this dialogue or narration?
> Ah, but remember Ive been here since way before that. I had the
>access ducts and vents figured out through the whole station. I used
>to come down here when it was a communications relay room. My
>uncle would pay me to eavesdrop sometimes.
CROW: Oh, it's a DS9/Nixon crossover.
> Give me a hand down. When my father saw how badly the
>Cardassians wrecked these lower decks he decided they werent
>worth repairing, and just sealed them off.
TOM: So they lost their security deposit.
> He overlooked one way in. As long as he doesnt know about it, its
>our secret. Swear to keep it?
MIKE: I've got it! It's the Taster's Choice saga...
> Swear.
CROW: YOU SORRY SON-OF-A-
> Okay! Im glad youre here. Ive been needing some help.
> Help doing what?
> Smashing things!
TOM: ...the Hell?
> Nog picks up a loose circuit module box and
>heaves it past Jake. Optical chips shatter satisfyingly as it hits the
>wall and pour in bits out of the box.
> Jake giggles, picks up a heavy piece of duranium-composite
>concrete, and drops it on a sophisticated-looking flat panel display
>laying on the floor, exploding it merrily and crushing the casing.
MIKE: Star Trek: The Beavis and Butt-head Generation...
> An hour later. Boys at play.
TOM: A novel by George Will.
> TIE fighters at two oclock!
CROW: What??
TOM: (giggles furiously)
MIKE: Jeez... It's the Death Star Kids' Crew
(frivolity stops)
TOM: (slowly, and with menace) Don't *even* joke about that, Nelson!
MIKE: (hanging his head) Sorry.
>Hard about!
TOM: The Mouse!
> Jake is sitting at the remains of a control station,
>wearing tattered gloves and belt from a Cardassian uniform, shoving
>a joystick back and forth.
CROW: You know, it's almost *too* easy.
MIKE: I'm proud of you.
> RRRROOOWWWR! Just missed! One stealth drone will take care of
>them all. Nog sits beside him, similarly dressed, the cracked casing
>of a disruptor jammed in his belt.
> Drone away!
TOM: I *don't* think the story needs any encouragement.
> Multiple targets locked on.
> One got through-- what now, Commander?
> Arm proton torpedoes...
TOM: (whisper) Photon.
> Too late! Incoming! He grabs a long metal bar and swings it near
>Jakes head, bashing in
TOM: Oh please please please!
> the display panel
TOM: Damn.
>in front of him and showering him with
CROW: Shame.
> glassine shards.
MIKE: Glassine, for all your cleaning needs.
> Abandon ship! Man the escape pods! He kicks Nogs stool
ALL: Eeeeeeew!
> out from
>under him, and both fall to the floor laughing.
> Jakes arm hits a floor level panel,
MIKE: Shattering his elbow, and sending him into shock.
TOM: Dare to dream.
> which pops open and disgorges a
>canteloupe-sized silver metal device, whirring and blinking.
> Hey! Whats this?
MIKE: It's the Vince Lombardi award!
> Its still got power!
CROW: (a la "Snap") I got the power!
>Ive never been able to find anything down here that still had any
>juice. Cardassian batteries are so cheap. No resale value.
> I wonder what it does? The device is made up of several
>independently rotating sections, which Jake twists on their axis.
TOM: It's a Rubik's Dalek!
CROW: Think it'll exterminate this fanfic?
MIKE: Wishful thinking.
> Hmm... state-of-the-art Cardassian technology.
TOM: I'm well-versed in Cardassian technology, even though I have no idea
what this is...
>I cant wait to bring it to school and show it. And then, the black
>market!
> We should try to understand how it works first.
> Dont break it! Stop fooling with it! What if its a weapon?
CROW: Oh, don't be -- zzrt!-- AAAAAAAAAA!
>Well just make up something to tell people it does. Thats why its so
>great hanging out with you. You can come up with something so
>confusing that theyll never figure it out
TOM: That Santa Claus was kidnapped by Martians.
> until we have cash in hand.
> We should bring it to my Dad. Its pretty... With a tiny flash of
>light, Jake blits out of existence.
ALL: YES!!
> The device drops to the floor, still
>blinking and whirring.
CROW: C'mon, pick it up! Pick it up! What are you, chicken?
TOM: (clucking sounds)
> Jake! Jake!
> Suddenly its nothing but cold and dark again.
MIKE: Like my soul...
TOM: Ooo...
>Nog grabs the device like an enemy. He becomes aware of the
>lonely weight of the space and silence around him, and begins to
>cry.
ALL: One, two, three, CRY!! One, two, three, CRY!!
> U.S.S. Enterprise. Captains Log: Stardate 34804.4; Captain Xander
>Coerforam
TOM: Make your own adventures with the Coerforam press-on playset.
>recording. The probe we encountered three hours ago while enroute
>to Outpost 23 still appears to be of completely alien origin. We have
>been unable to translate or even parametrize the signal it is
>transmitting.
>I consider it unlikely to be Romulan, but we are too close to the
>Neutral Zone to chance not investigating it completely. First Officer
>Sisko has been personally leading a science team in an attempt to
>analyze it and decode its transmissions.
TOM: Is this a flashback?
MIKE: Uh... I dunno.
Captain Coerforam swings in his chair to the bridge science station.
CROW: Then back around to the view screen. Wheeeeeee!
Number One, status report.
MIKE: Well, I've been having this burning sensation--
> Sir, the signal is completely alien. It does not correspond to any
>known Romulan code or encryption, or resemble anything
>encountered before.
> Is the signal repeating?
> It hasnt in the past three hours.
TOM: Okay, enough's enough! Is this an alternate universe where
apostrophes don't exist?
> Coerforam kneads his chin, perhaps a few moments too long.
CROW: What the hell does _that_ mean?
>We cant
TOM: Thieves' Cant?
> let ourselves be led off the mark here. It might be
>coincidence that we find this thing so close to the Neutral Zone; or it
>may be a decoy. In either case we have to rededicate our sensors to
>long range scanning of the Zone and get underway again to Outpost
>23.
> I remind the Captain
MIKE: Of his first wife.
> that one of our primary missions is scientific
>discovery. Whatever the probe is, I believe the wisest course is
>complete investigation of it.
> Continue your analysis, Commander.
> Aye, Sir...but we may not have long, regardless.
TOM: Then what the hell are you busting my butt about scientific discovery
for!?
> What do you mean?
> The probes power source is showing signs of instability. Signal
>coherence is breaking up.
CROW: Tell *us* about it! Sheesh!
> The decision to fully analyze it may soon be taken out of our hands.
CROW: (Sisko voice) I'll have to run it past my floor manager...
> Helm, move us back to 500 kilometers from the object.
MIKE: See ya, later, Sisko! Enjoy your *scientific discovery!*
> I dont want to
>be caught in a catastrophic failure.
TOM: Ha-ha! Too late!
> Dont raise shields until I signal.
>Sisko, how long do we have?
> Maybe minutes, maybe hours.
MIKE: Ambiguous dialogue theatre will continue...
> Assume minutes. I dont want to come out of this empty-handed,
>Ben. Come up with something.
> I will, Sir. Alright, team, one more time. What havent we tried?
CROW: Building a bridge out of 'er!
> Science Officer: Im out of ideas, Commander. Weve gone through
>the whole book on this one. None of the Universal Translator
>precode templates gave us anything but noise.
> Theres got to be a way to extract meaning out of this signal. I
>want you to configure the sensors in a fast fourier transform array,
>across the entire frequency range. Rotate each frequency channel
>independently in phase space and give me every meaningful
>integrated result.
TOM: And engage the techobable generators!
> Calculating. No intelligible result.
CROW: Oh, they're analysing this story...
> Damn! Okay, forget discrete channels.
MIKE: I *love* you, dammit!
> We need more resolution.
TOM: Buy a HDTV.
>I want a
TOM: Clark bar.
> continuously differentiated analysis distribution curve.
> The computers not set up for that. I dont know if its been tried
>before in the field. Itll take a few minutes to set up.
> We dont have a few minutes.
MIKE: Didn't the Captain say to... well, never mind.
>The probe is building up a power surge.
>Guess the curve shape and trace it in by hand. Quickly, man.
> Science Officer: Im on it.
CROW: Whoever this officer Im is, he sure gets around.
TOM: Quite knowledgeable fellow, too.
> Helm: Probe detonation imminent.
> Captain: Raise shields.
> Sisko: Not yet! Im tying in a subspace attenuation filter.
> Captain: Anything?
> Sisko: No!
TOM: Well, nice knowin' ya! BOOM!
>What is this thing?
CROW: It's a sensor reading called... "love."
> Captain: Time to wrap this up.
ALL: YEA!!!
(They get up to leave. Pause)
MIKE: Oh, wait... darn.
(They sit)
>Were needed elsewhere. Helm, raise shields. Sorry, Ben.
> Helm: Shields up. Main sensors offline.
> The viewscreen fills with a blinding flash, and Ben Sisko gets an
>unaccustomed taste of disappointment.
CROW: When he finds out that DS9 has been renewed...
MIKE: HEY!
>
> So, how do you think I did? Honest.
CROW: Is this the author?
TOM: Oh, *please* let it be...
>Give me the chicken salad.
CROW: Huh?
TOM: ...the hell?
> As well as any of your other command exercises. Ill take the pilaf.
MIKE: Non-sequitur theatre presents...
> I dont know. I have a feeling it was more than a routine command
>exercise.
CROW: Who the heck is talking!?
TOM: I think it's the voices in the author's head...
> Nothing out of the ordinary happened- except that probe.
CROW: Ick.
> But that
>was acomplete dead end, believe me. I did everything but go out to
>it with a can opener.
MIKE: You didn't try the can opener? No wonder he never made Captain...
CROW: Kirk would've tried the can opener first thing.
TOM: Mm-hmm....
>I think they just wanted to see how long youd allocate time to the
>problem and when youd cut your losses. Theres two seats.
> There was something out of square in the set-up. The way they let
>me pick all my own bridge crew,
TOM: Too bad they couldn't get Omar Sharriff.
> gave me extra time to prepare.
>When we went into the simulator the proctors were looking at me
>strangely,
TOM: You know: that sly, come-hither stare...
> like they were expecting something special. Do you think
>it was my Kobayashi Maru test?
MIKE: (falsetto) Hope it comes back negative.
> Why on Earth would you say that?
CROW: Earth? I thought this was DS9.
TOM: Lame...
> They dont always use the same scenario for the test. You never
>know when it will come or what form it will take. Ive heard some
>officers sayit took them years after graduation to figure out exactly
>what it was.
> It would have to be the blandest KM test Ive ever heard of.
MIKE: Believe me, we empathize.
CROW: Mike, do you suppose this is *your* Kobayashi Maru test?
(Mike shrugs)
> Well, you know what they say; you have to find the plate before
>you can take your turn at bat. There might have been some whole
>dimension to the test I completely missed.
TOM: Like... *depth?*
MIKE: I think I missed that dimension with this whole story.
CROW: Definitely got *length*, however.
TOM and
MIKE: Yep.
> Now youre being paranoid. Theres no way Xander Coerforam
CROW: Leader of the Anesthetics.
>would get lost on the way to a challenge. Besides, isnt sophomore
>year a little early to face the test?
> Sophomore year is ending, and we have to choose our career
>specialty paths.
TOM: (falsetto) I think we should break up, Ted.
> Weve already said we wanted command, one hundred percent of
>the way. Youre not shagging out on me, are you?
CROW: No, the doctor just said it was an inflammation.
> No, of course not. I... look, here comes Lt. Chang.
> As you were, cadets. Please, sit down. Eat. I just wanted to tell
>you, Mr. Coerforam, you were graded well in your latest exercise.
MIKE: Based on the dorkiness of your name, however, we're kicking you out
of Starfleet.
> Im glad to hear it, Sir.
TOM: (Sisko voice) Ensign Im, when did you get here?
> You attracted attention as well, Mr. Sisko. Some of the moves you
>made
CROW: At the sophmore Prom...
> trying to decode that signal were very clever. You have a talent
>for scientific thinking. Tell me, did you think of trying a multi-modal
>sort of the signal across the subspace domain?
TOM: (CS geek voice) Yeah, but my modem's only 2400 baud...
> Well, Sir, a multi-modal sort wouldnt have told us anything about
>the actual signal, just the carrier wave. I agree thats part of a
>thoroughanalysis, but we didnt have the time for that. I decided
>that finding intelligent content was the top priority.
MIKE: I bet Ensign Im could have figure out a way!
TOM: Yeah!
> Besides, multi-
>modal statistics classes wont be offered til our junior year, so I
>figured it would be unwise to waste time on a theory I wasnt
>familiar with.
> A sound assessment. Have you considered the science career
>specialty? They need innovative thinkers who can take initiative as much
as the red suits.
> Sorry Sir, but Im foursquare for command.
TOM: Yes, but we're talking about *your* career, Sisko.
>Its what Ive wanted all my life.
CROW: I feel a song coming on...
> Excellent! I look forward to working with you both next semester.
>The juniors tell me that multi-modal statistics is one of their hardest
>courses. You might want to bone up on it in advance during your
>summer break.
> We will, Sir. Count on it.
> Very good. Carry on.
> Wow! What was that? Officers almost never sit with
>underclassmen in common areas.
CROW: What's an uncommon area?
MIKE: I'll tell you later.
> See, I told you all was well. Hes taking us under his wing, giving
>us advice- he wants to be our mentor.
> I guess youre right. But everything Lt. Chang says is like a zen
>puzzle. Youre never sure what he really means.
TOM: Yeah, remember that time when the Romulans were attacking and he said
to raise the shields to the level of one hand clapping?
(Mike looks at Tom)
> Would you relax? Well be among the stars before you know it,
>friend.
CROW: No thanks, man, that stuff give me flashbacks...
>
> Alright. Multi-modal sorting. If I pull an all-nighter I should be
>able to get the computer to teach me enough to do an analysis on
>that probes signal. Xander was right, you cant get Changs words out
>of your head. Besides, I want to have an intelligent answer if he
>brings it up again. Oh, man. Look at that parameter list. Wheres my
>coffee?
TOM: You know, it would be really, really nice if I knew what the hey was
going on.
> Hours of work. Ah, here we go. A power curve profile.
MIKE: Whoa, check out the centerfold!
>Lets see.
>Anything interesting at all?
TOM: Not in this fanfic.
> Hello, whats this? A shifting resonance pattern. Thats interesting.
MIKE: Not really.
>The probe seems to have been trying to get a frequency phase lock
>with our sensor beam. A neat clue to their technology. Maybe
>Memory Beta will have records of a culture that used that
>technique. Slamdunk. Hi Lt. Chang, that Mumblegumbian probe
TOM: WHAT???
(Laughter breaks out among the guys)
CROW: (Sisko voice) Sir, the Snifflewuffians are attacking!
MIKE: Not now, Sisko, I'm in delicate negotiations with the BoogieWoogian
delegates...
> was something
>else, wasnt it?
TOM: Yeah, really lame.
> Sisko, youre a genius.
> And heres where it got the lock. Hmm, same time it started
>showing instability in its power source. Coincidence? Or something
>more? We shall learn all. Maybe it couldnt handle the extra resonant
>power influx. Yes, here we go. The resonant power buildup coincides
>with the extra sensor intensity I used toward the end.
> Oh, no. I blew up the probe. I got so caught up in the theoretical
>puzzle that I lost sight of the fact that it was a real object, and fried
>it. I fought the wrong battle and lost the war.
MIKE: (Sisko Voice) Glad Starfleet isn't "You break it, you bought it."
> I was so sure I could crack that code, so sure that was the only
>important thing. I should have realized in the first twenty minutes
>that the signal was indecipherable and started looking for other
>approaches, but I was too full of myself.
CROW: Insert comment here...
> Stopping a resonant power
>buildup is the easiest thing in the world - if Id bothered to look,
MIKE: But the superego distracted it.
>I could have easily set up a counter resonant carrier wave...bought
>myself more time, or could have just taken it into a hangar bay to
>study later or use for leverage further in the exercise... who knows
>what doors I closed off by destroying it. I showed up to the wrong
>field, missed the game, went down looking on the third strike.
CROW: Oooh, *great* analogy.
TOM: What is he, George Will?
> Stupid! Stupid!
TOM: Rat Creatures!
> A commander is responsible for everything: just because MM stats
>is a junior-level course is no excuse...a commander has to have the
>resources to bring whatever is needed to a situation... its his job to
>find the real battlefield and not waste time on the wrong one. I had
>a chance to distinguish myself, but instead I fucked up.
MIKE: Whoa! Deep Space Nine's Def Comedy Jam!
> It wasnt
>Xanders Kobayashi Maru test: it was yours! Yours, Ben Sisko, yours!
> Oh, no! Ben grips his head in his big hands and cries in anguish.
MIKE: Is it me, or does this fanfic remind anyone else of Ulysses...
TOM: Let's get out of here...
----cut here----