Lt. Commander Doz Finch - Sight for Sore Eyes
Doz Finch
((Science Lab 6, Deck 7, USS Gorkon))
The ability to see things didn’t always bottle down to mere eyesight. It didn’t have to be anything material, physical, familiar to the skin of a person's hands. It could often be another perspective, a new angle, a reframing of the mind. She valued that in a person, but that only made it all the more important that she herself saw things differently when the time called for it. There, in the science lab, whether the El-Aurian knew it or not, he’d succeeded in helping her to do just that.
Finch: Why don't we collaborate? Craft some designs together in a longer term project. Upgraded enhancers, just without all of the—::she looked at the mans head, then ARIA and wiggled her fingers.::—cellular embedding.
Taelon: I’d, um, love to. And.. you said you’d like to keep these ones. So we can try to find a solution that preserves as much of the original pieces as possible?
Taelon’s tone was polite but touched by disappointment, like a fisherman reeling a heavy line only to come up with an old boot covered in seaweed. Compromise. Life was full of them.
Finch: If we can! That would be lovely. ::She chuckled.:: Look at me, worried about a pair of ocular enhancers.
The man smiled - his usual gentle, shy expression - and he gently tapped Doz on the hand, mirroring one of her own gestures of endearment.
Taelon: Objects are important because we make them so. And…well, my original suggestion was going to be to melt them down and use the material in the new ones, so - your solution is better.
She bent her lips inwards with a press as the man, flushing, turned to his android companion, gesturing to its sunglowing bone-like headcrests. The edges of the older woman's mouth lifted into rosy corners as she admired its appearance once more, enjoying its golden accents and features as it elegantly rolled, and then touched, the end of the scientist's finger.
Taelon: It’s like, um, the gold used here, for example…it’s very old? It was my mother’s, and her mother’s before that, and her mother, and so on…we each shape it to our own needs, but the gold, and the spirit in it, survives. But, um, reforming something someone made with care…it’s understandable you want to keep them as they are.
Finch: ::She spoke gently, almost in a whisper.:: Oh, love, how gorgeous.
His inner child glowed like a furnace. The passing and moulding of material, etched into history, an heirloom in his own way. A memory on his terms. It really was gorgeous, she meant that, in all the way beautiful stories and rituals were. And it made her think about home for a moment — about the Falklands, and about Earth.
Finch: Where I come from, there’s sentimentality in the final design of a thing. With our eyes, we can see the love, and the attention, and the care that went into the making of…whatever it is. A building, a sculpture…even a pair of old enhancers.
Taelon: Response
There was a brief but natural lull in the conversation as only the sounds of the ship, humming in harmony with ARIA, moved like fluid through the translucent hairs of her ears. Then the occasional tinkling of a nearby tool self-diagnosing trickled in, the swoosh of a power line through the wall, all dancing in a waltz. Moments later, she looked up again with a face full of thought and intrigue.
Finch: What you said during the ceremony, you know, on Palanon, it didn’t half stay with me, Mister Taelon. About clinging to the past — I suppose that it’s one of the things I tend to do a bit too much of.
Taelon: Response
Finch: ::She nodded, a cheerful smile growing.:: I’ll go away and have a little think about your idea! It’s likely something best mulled over with tea. And with enough of it, ::she paused, looking up into the tall man’s blue eyes,:: I just might see things differently.
Taelon: Response
Fin