LT JG Imril - Breakfast Brainstorm
Chris Taylor
(( Main Mess Hall, Deck 3, USS Artemis-A ))
Imril listened to talk of cats and clothes while starting on their meal. The pink eggs flecked with indigo and black spices went very well with the hash. Which in turn acted as a good entry point for the Ariollan-crafted pastry. They all washed down nicely under the tide of iced Klingon coffee. An Aspergosian might call it a mathematically perfect breakfast.
Bancroft: Collar’s too tight. Feels like I’m constantly being choked. ::quickly, giving Imril side-eye:: And before you say it, no – I’m not into that.
Imril: .oO(Aw, did you and the brian fungus never agree on a safeword?)Oo.
Imril could still (and quite easily) remember the day when they were summoned from Main Engineering into Sickbay and the care of a R’Ongovian science officer and a team of nurses for a lengthy round of scans and blood draws. After being cleared of any psionic or mycelial infections, next came a lovely walk to the Security Chief's office and a Q&A about anything and everything Imril knew about the brain-nibbling side-dish which Roy had only just that day delivered into the care of Chief Jovenan.
But this was too good a morning to spend on brooding over that.
Tho'Bi: I built her a cat tree. …hopefully, it will …distract her from missing her Mama.
Bancroft: I honestly can’t imagine a sentient being missing the walking calamity known as Samantha Richards. ::grinning:: Are you sure the cat isn’t trying to signal to you that it’s being held against its will?
Imril: I’m not hearing any reasons why I would ever want a pet.
Tho’Bi took another bite of his monster sandwich, and began sputtering. Then coughing. Gagging!
Roy closed his eyes and let his head drop to the table in a slow, theatrical thud.
Imril: Tho’Bi! You alright?
Bancroft: ::muffled, from tabletop:: I am off duty. Why do you always have medical emergencies when I’m off duty?
Imril jumped to his feet, a hand raised to slap Tho’Bi’s back. For all his grousing, the Doctor was fast on his feet when it came to choking victim. Around the table and behind the Andorian in an instant, ready to haul him into a Heimlich or some similar maneuver.
Just as Roy took position behind the spluttering Engineer, a blue hand slapped the table top lightly.
Tho'Bi: ::breathless uneven speaking:: I'm fine …not the first time.
He looked up at Roy and then over at Imril and smiled.
Tho'Bi: My mother calls this ::holds up the hulk sandwich:: that ridiculous human sandwich I make with our food ::laughs::
Roy grunted tiredly as he returned to his side of the table, sitting down heavily in his chair. Imril, too, reclaimed their seat. But kept an eye on Tho’Bi for a bit, until they were satisfied that he was breathing normally once more.
Bancroft: Small bites, man. Small bites. Chew your food. What are you, a Labrador? ::beat:: Anyway, Imril – thoughts? Pass it to Tho’Bi when you’re done.
Imril let the dog reference pass right on by, eyes on the padd. They skimmed the text, but soon became lost in the metaphors both parties were speaking in, and the seemingly random (and very non-technical) purple prose. Description without purpose.
Imril: ::shaking their head:: I get the jist of what you’re trying to make here, I think. But what I’m not seeing is how you intend for these devices you’ve thought up to actually do any of what you’re aiming to have them do.
They passed the padd over to Tho’Bi and picked the fork back up for some more food.
Tho’Bi: Response
Bancroft: It’s an Earth dog– never mind. ::to Imril:: So yeah… obviously there are a few… kinks… to work out, but I think the general philosophy behind it is sound. This could really be helpful in cases where patients are non-verbal. Scanners can only tell you so much – a patient’s own voice is one of the most important diagnostic tools we have.
Tho’Bi: Responses
Imril didn’t have one of their ‘mini-figs’ handy, but the process they’d gone through to get them into development and eventual production was something they could readily share.
Imril: Constructive criticism time, from someone who’s successfully turned an idea into real live Starfleet gear. First of all, this is not how you write an R&D proposal. A sitcom spec script for one of those Ferengi streaming channels, sure. Second, it’s not how you respond to an R&D proposal, either. I’m guessing this Doctor Maran was also writing at Oh-Three-Hundred in the morning. They frankly did you a disservice, and doesn't help clear up any of my questions.
Bancroft/Tho’Bi: Responses
Imril offered an apologetic shrug. To be useful to their friend in this case was to be honest. (Honesty of the same straight-forward sort as, for instance, informing your roommate that they’d been sharing living space with a mind-reading mushroom at any point before Security started sweeping Deck Five for psychoactive spores…)
Imril: If Tho’Bi or I tried to move this document up the Engineering chain, it would have come back marked Incomplete. But not with a frowny face written in red ink on it, because that would be superfluous. You don't want superfluous. ‘A Nurse Who Reminds Me Of My Mother’ is superfluous.
Were they saying ‘superfluous’ too much? Yes. That was the point.
Bancroft/Tho’Bi: Responses
If this invention was to get off the ground, let alone reach all the way up to a tangible workbench, then it was best to scrap the existing proposal and work up a whole new one.
Imril: Start from the beginning, Roy. Give us your turbolift pitch.
Bancroft/Tho’Bi: Responses
((OOC: Re: The reference to a R’Ongovian scientist: Following discussion with Carter and my mentor, I’m developing a PNPC who may be introduced when the fungus subplot moves forward.)
[TAG/TBC!]
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Lieutenant JG Imril
Engineering Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240110I12