The Profound Cosmic Donut
Sarah Terry
((The I’vish Gallery, Shi’Kahr District, Starbase 118))
She almost laughed when he mentioned the button down. Her gaze flickered over to Director McLaren - did everyone from Intel just wear black all the time? - but no, she was in an emerald green dress, so maybe it was just Ross.
Ross: Singing is very impressive. I always envied people with musical talent. I'm pretty boring I guess... ::as if the clipboards hadn't given it away already:: I like to read. Sometimes I run - and I used to swim, but it's hard to find a good old-fashioned pool. And then... yeah ::he shrugged:: I just like to be out and meet new people. I find most of them have a story worth listening to.
She raised an eyebrow at his comment about being boring. People who were actually boring rarely admitted to it freely - or seemed aware of it at all. And besides, as someone who had basically grown up a trained show pony, she knew there were far worse things one could be. Before she could counter his claim though, her eye suddenly caught on a work of art behind him and she gasped with excitement.
Voss: Oh, they have a Pekev? He’s my absolute favorite Vulcan artist! ::pointing out the painting:: It’s been ages since I’ve seen one in person, and photographs just don’t do the texture justice. Do you like abstract art? What do you see when you look at it?
He groaned quietly and she watched as he squinted his eyes at the canvas. There was no telepathy required to see he wasn’t a particular fan off the bat, but she respected an honest opinion. She turned from him to the painting itself, and they both took it in quietly for a moment.
This was particularly large for a Pekev, and it had an almost overwhelming presence on the wall. The sand that covered the canvas glittered subtly under the gallery lights in shades of crimson, ochre, and burnt sienna, occasionally shot through with thin spines of white radiating from the center like a kaleidoscope.
Ross: Looks a bit like... a funky donut, doesn't it?
That nearly took her out. She tried to cover her mouth so she didn’t laugh too loudly. The man truly did have baked goods on the brain. They stepped closer to the piece, so they could appreciate the “donut” in detail.
Voss: He was inspired by the way sound vibrations can create patterns. So he was a composer as well - he’d play his pieces through a Chladni plate to see how the music moved the sand and then he’d try to capture that movement in the painting.
Ah, that got him to look a little closer. It never failed to amaze her how a piece of art could come alive before someone’s eyes as soon as they really looked. As soon as they trusted themselves to see. He put his hands behind his back as he leaned in intently.
Ross: No, you're right. I can see it. ::he pointed at the upper right corner:: That's an interference pattern. And down here - he must have changed the frequency abruptly. It's a distortion.
Three whole hobbies, huh? She smirked. There was definitely more to him than that.
Voss: ::with a teasing grin:: Interference? Distortion? Funny, that doesn’t sound like reading, running, or swimming.
He gave a wry smile.
Ross: Yeah, I guess I did hide another hobby. I'm kind of the communications guy. But frequencies and wavelength do kind of feel like the clipboards of nature, don't they?
She laughed, and made a show of crossing her arms and pursing her lips in exaggerated thought.
Voss: The clipboards of nature, hmm? ::wait… did she actually see it the teeniest, tiniest bit? Maybe that drink was really hitting her after all:: I mean, I suppose you could make the case that sound categorizes and orders the natural world.
He smiled.
Ross: Yeah, in the end it's all patterns. Galaxies, orbits - particles and waves. As a child I was always obsessed with codes. My dad taught me Morse code... language as rhythm, rhythm as code, you go binary, and then suddenly it's maths again. Like one big pattern we can only assume but never really see, because we'll always be part of it.
Well, well, well. She wasn’t the only one who could get caught up in the beautiful, mesmerizing, interconnected mess of majesty that made up the world. A warm feeling settled over her as he awkwardly shrugged off his small burst of poetry, and she smiled.
Ross: I guess that's what I see... Inside that weird donut. How about you, Mrs. cosmic grandeur?
Her eyes brightened at the joking challenge in his voice and she turned back to the painting. She stood up a little straighter as if she were squaring up against it, and dramatically swished her curls back over her shoulders.
Voss: What do I see inside the weird donut? Well to me, Pekev’s work always aims for the undercurrent. The primordial force that rumbles underneath and inside everything - that emanates between us and the world, compounding and growing with everything it touches. ::gesturing to the large swathes of dark, twisting sand:: And it isn’t a passive process. It shakes us, unmoors us, sets us adrift as we fight against it. ::pointing to the white spines next:: Desperate lashes against what we perceive as our enemy, because we don’t understand it. Because we don’t ::taking a few steps back:: have the perspective we need to see the pattern. If we can take a breath, if we can trust in the world around us, we see it isn’t a fight, but a dance. There’s give and take and push and pull, not to hurt us, but to move us. To place us where we’re meant to be. ::She shot him a grin:: Is that grand enough?
Ross: ?
Voss: ::giggling:: Wouldn’t my parents be proud? Or hey, you know, maybe it really is a profound, cosmic donut and it’s a sign that we need to go back for more snacks. I think all artistic interpretations are valid.
Ross: ?
They started back toward the appetizers, when suddenly the crowd began to move in a different direction. Lyra looked to find the source of the migration, and saw the station’s commanding officer, Gogigobo Fairhug, moving toward the platform stage at the back of the room. All the playful bravado immediately fell out of her, and she suddenly turned pale.
Voss: Oh four, I’m not going to have to say something, am I? Lieutenant Marsh said the new ensigns might be introduced and I don’t… what am I supposed to do? Wave? Say hi? Salute? I’ve never even met Commander Fairhug!
Ross: ?
His words calmed her down a bit, but she still looked a little green around the gills as they headed toward the seats by the stage. Before they reached their destination though, she touched his arm to stop him for a moment.
Voss: Hey, I… I just wanted to say thanks. For coming over to talk to me. :she looked bashful:: I’m kind of abjectly terrible at striking up conversations, so… I really appreciate it. And I probably/definitely owe you donuts now, so hopefully a win-win for everyone?
Ross: ?
She smiled. It was still a little strange and uncomfortable to verbalize feelings like that, especially embarrassing ones like admitting you probably would have spent the evening silently staring at the walls and praying the floor would swallow you if no one had come to your rescue. On Betazed, you didn’t have to say things out loud - everyone felt it, knew it, dealt with it. But there was something uniquely edifying about having someone understand without needing to be in her head. Maybe she had to take Pekev’s advice and trust the dance a little more. It seemed to be taking her to the right place.
-End of Scene for Voss-