Doctor Doctor

Posted on Mon Jun 25th, 2018 @ 9:41pm by Emergency Medical Hologram (Adam Power) Mk X & Commander Rita Paris
Edited on on Mon Jun 25th, 2018 @ 9:42pm

Mission: Curing the Black Blood
Location: USS Hera, Deck 11, Holosuite 2
Timeline: 2395
Tags: Backpost

With the holographic menace behind them, Lieutenant Rita Paris decided that it was time she faced a few facts. One was that she simply wasn’t comfortable in Sickbay- she was accustomed to having a good relationship with the ship’s surgeon, which she had failed to establish on the Hera. The lycanthropic doctor, nurse, whomever she was seemed competent and able, but she hadn’t seemed to connect there, either. Rita was remarkably injury-prone, and tended to spend a lot of time limping in then walking out of Sickbay.

In addition, there was the issue with holographic life forms, sentient computer programs given a semblance of humanoid life through photonic trickery and forcefields. Apparently they were outrageously lifelike- she had offered Akira a hug, and she could smell the girl’s hair when she did so.

The Captain was married to a hologram, who was apparently part of a hive mind? Rita had never gotten an explanation on that point, and was still very confused how it all worked. Forget about how sex worked with a hologram- that was an entirely separate kettle of fish that continued to confuse her as she contemplated it. Did all of the Maicas look alike? Why would they not customize themselves? Were they required to be built like that for a reason? Did holographic citizens have rights? As terrified of the Borg as the Federation clearly was, how did they not think that holographic life would be that much easier to assimilate? And given how holographic emitters and fine-tuned forcefields were contiguous throughout the starship, how were holographics onboard not a threat to security?

All of this ran through her mind and more. After all, in this far-flung future there seemed to be very little consideration for technology to turn against the creators of said technology, or the users. She still recalled the M-5 test, which resulted in casualties aboard the USS Lexington and the deaths of the full crew complement of the USS Excalibur. A humanoid would choose compassion over simply following orders, but compassion was something computers tended to, in her experience, lack. Daystrom had gotten that part wrong, most certainly. And while she was quite certain that these modern technological life forms were far more advanced, there was still a nagging doubt in her mind about them.

Asking questions was how Rita learned in this bizarre time period, but often she noticed her questions were swept aside. Either people did not realize she was seeking clarity, or they simply did not wish to answer, because her probing questions created uncomfortable situations. The Ops chief was a hologram. The Captain’s wife was a hologram, and she had no idea just who else aboard might be the same. Paris had to get along with these lifeforms, and to do that she needed questions answered. So she thought this time she had a self-starting answer to her problems.

Apparently there was an emergency medical hologram. Which might or might not be as complex as the rest of the holographic life forms onboard, which just created a host of other questions. Was the holographic doctor turned off when not in use? Was that cruel? Were other holograms ‘turned off’ similarly when not in ‘use’? Was this basically slavery? Were they all free-willed? Did that mean the Holodeck was an entire world’s worth of enslaved beings? Trying to figure it out on her own was making her head hurt, and she hadn’t made much headway asking the ones she had met. So Rita figured bringing it down a notch might just give her an answer, and give her someone to turn to not only for advice and answers, but someone to patch up her injuries that she could rely upon in a pinch, with whom she theoretically would not create conflict.

So, stepping into the holosuite, she tapped her comm and declared, “Computer- activate the Emergency Medical Hologram.”

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," the EMH said as he was activated outside of his normal operating arena. Taking in the scene, he guessed the situation quickly. "Let me guess. You were cosplaying on the holodeck and you strained something and you don't want to alert the proper medical teams? That's what it seems I'm here for. Just tell me where it hurts and I'll get you fixed up in no time." As he spoke, he headed towards the medkit built into the holosuite's arch to get the medical tricorder to start working.

"No, no, I'm not currently injured, I just... I need to talk to someone. About holograms. And asking the holograms or the people involved witht he holograms isn't really getting me anywhere, and I need to understand this, because they didn't exist in my day. It's yet another very confusing part of life in the future that I'm trying to get a handle on while I smile and nod and try very hard not to let on just how in over my head I am with all of this. Computer, could I have a chair, please?" Paris ended her rambling rant with a request because she didn't want to just stand around the black room with a neon yellow grid pattern. "In fact, could you set the scene as a beachside cafe in San Francisco circa 2060?"

The EMH paused as he was pulling the medkit from its fitments and pushed it back into the arch. "Ah, I see what the issue is now." Heading back to Rita, he took a seat next to her. "Fortunately for you, my programmers included he knowledge of over four thousand of the Federation's best mental health experts. Unfortunately, I was programmed with a mind for efficiency rather than bedside manners so if I seem terse or condescending, I apologize now."

"As for your initial questions..." The EMH paused a moment and looked the woman over as he accessed her medical records. "I'm sorry, but your medical records seem to be corrupt. When were you born again?"

"February 13th, 2233. San Francisco, Starfleet Medical. I'm, um, a lot older than I look... chronologically. I think I might be thirty years old physically by now- maybe twenty-nine? It's a little hard to keep track given how much time I've spent not being... um, present. I assume most of it is in my medical record?" Rita squirmed a bit in her chair as the sea breeze blew in, ruffling her short blonde hair. "I could go over it if you need it for your records... I don't know if anyone has amended my service jacket. I've just sort of taken it on faith that Starfleet is documenting me in this timeline."

The EMH looked a bit taken aback at the explanation and just decided to move on. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand all that. I'll just have to provide whatever care I can as best I can. You were asking about photonic life forms, I believe? You seemed rather distressed and were displaying signs of anxiety, if I'm not mistaken."

The buxom blonde sighed heavily, blowing her hair out of her face with the long slow exhalation. "That makes two of us, pal. And yes, I have... I have a lot of anxiety about a lot of things. So yes, I would like to know more about photonic life forms. You count as a photonic life form, right?"

Displaying a somewhat smug grin for a moment, the EMH couldn't help but take a bit of pride in that fact. "Oh yes, quite photonic. Though I'm not quite as complex as the other two on the ship, I'm quite advanced in my own right and once I reach a certain level of development and sentience I'll be able to apply for Federation citizenship just like them. Of course, I haven't even met the most basic of criteria yet, like exceeding my programming or choosing a name for myself. I don't even have one thousand hours of active time logged and most of that time has been spent treating injured crew. On the bright side, I do have autonomy over my program's shutdown protocols, just like the other photonics aboard." The EMH cleared his throat and took on a more thoughtful look. "But I'm guessing that's not exactly why you're here, is it? You have a deeper, more philosophical question in mind, don't you?"

"Well," Paris began, then hesitated. Gnawing on her lower lip, she chose her words carefully. "That actually defined a bit of my questions there... I don't know the difference between a hologram that is just turned on and off as a convenience and one that is considered a self-aware lifeform. I worry about if this is a society blithely embracing slavery or if they are creating monsters in their midst. And I don't really have anyone to ask because i am afraid of offending anyone- for the love of phloog, the captain's wife is a hologram and I really don't understand that, but I don't want to offend her by asking too many questions. This time period, there's just so much that I don't know and people look at me when I don't understand things they take for granted and it's, it's wearing on me and I just want some answers and to not feel so... so..."

"So lost and confused?" The EMH reached out and gently took Rita's hand and gave her an understanding look. "I may be programmed with the knowledge of thousands of worlds, but I have an idea of what you're going through. Every EMH has to go through this now. We're brought online and run for a few hours and told to come to terms with our programming and our place in this world. We're told that though there are people out there that can apparently program sentient holograms, our programmers aren't part of that group. Therefore, a vetting program was put into place that seems impossible, yet it's been done a few times, which gives us hope. Yet for every success, there are ten of us that decompile trying to reach that goal. Do you want to see that goal?"

"Sure, I guess?" At least she wasn't lost in the conversation, and despite the doctor being a hologram, she appreciated the simple gesture of contact. So many people in the future didn't even shake hands, it bothered Rita. She needed to touch and to be touched in order to reassure herself that she was still there, that she existed and could be percieved by others. years as a warp ghost had left that with her, and while she had previously made great strides, her relative isolation in the future had left her backsliding on that front. "I'd like to understand."

"Computer, terminal please," the EMH ordered, a small desktop computer appearing before him. He then started pulling up data on it and throwing up several holographic structures into the air. "These are the recorded AI structures of several photonic lifeforms at their last diagnostics. For us it's like a physical for you. This first one is mine." A small blue and white baseball shaped complex ball of circuitry hovered in the air in front of Rita. "That is essentially what makes me, me."

"Now... Don't tell the others, because this is slightly a breach of privacy... But this Akira's father's last recorded AI diagnostic. His mind was actually pulled from a dying Bolian, mind you, so he's a bit of a goal." Next to the small blue ball, a second orb appeared but much larger, about the size of a beach ball and filled with all the colors of the rainbow. It was infinitely more complex as well.

"And now for the coup de grace... We have a public AI diagnostic on Maica Prime, the source matrix for the Captain's wife." Pressing one more button, the area above them was filled with a complex tree-like pattern of neurons and subroutines arrayed in a seemingly chaotic and organic pattern.

"As for the Federation's policy on artificial lifeforms, I'm the lowest level and if you can exceed your programming and pass other certain criteria shown in these diagnostics, then you're granted citizenship. And if you're wondering about Maica 47 and Akira, they're just below the complexity of the second one I showed you at this point. They also both have full citizenship. It's not really slavery or servitude... I think of it more like a child not being able to vote until they grow up and when does an artificial life form grow up? You have to reach a certain level of maturity, don't you? Then again, I might just be programmed to think that way. Without exceeding my own programming, I have no way of confirming or denying it. I'm programmed to make sound, logical judgement calls based on the available data in each scenario I'm presented with. I don't yet have the capacity yet to 'think' for myself."

Pausing a moment, the EMH let Rita take in all the knowledge he had unloaded on her. However, his explanation, with visual aids, had actually covered it for her.

"Okay, actually, that made a lot of sense, thank you," Paris offered. It did make sense, in a futuristic sort of way. But there were still elements that eluded her. "So the Maica prime and all of that... could you explain that please, because I really don't understand that. The one on this ship is not the original but they are all still tied together and they share experiences, yet live autonomously?"

The EMH looked thoughtful for several moments as he considered various analogies and metaphors for explaining it. "They're autonomous, yes... They're also sort of children... Most look similar to Maica Prime's original form, though I heard one decided to exist as a pillar of light and offer sage advice and seek enlightenment in a way. A few are now male. I think one is Vulcan and teaching at the Academy. They're nowhere near a true hive mind, either. I guess you could think of them as a mother and forty nine daughters with a shared diary. A rather unique and extensive shared diary. If you're trying to compare them to the Borg, they took a similar neural networking technology and used it in a far different manner, enhancing their individuality rather than erasing it. After all, one of the biggest threats we artificial life forms face is being wiped out by malicious code. As I am right now, If someone wrote a subroutine that could wipe out every single EMH mark ten, I would be one of them. There are many mark nine models still in use, as well as the newer mark elevens, but even so, we lack the biodiversity of you biological organisms. Maica Prime, Akira, and the Maica from another universe have all overcome that obstacle by becoming hybridized, organic artificial sentients."

The EMH grinned sheepishly and actually blushed a bit. "I'm sorry, I think something's wrong with my program. I seem to be rambling. I'm not even programmed to investigate this information, but... Something about it..." A look of consternation crossed his face as he looked over the data a bit more. "Something about it... I think... I'm not programmed to feel hope, yet when I was offline, I investigated all of this for some reason, looking over all that was required to attain Federation citizenship. My program came to terms with it initially, but with all this new data... There's just so much more to process."

He then looked up and smiled at Rita in a friendly matter. "But we're here to help you. Please, continue."

In that moment, with all the information presented to her, Rita Paris made a decision and turned a corner. They were holographs and forcefields, or maybe just one or the other. But technological life forms were life forms just as valid as biological, and now that she understood them, like the infinite diversity of the universe, she welcomed them.

"Actually Doctor, they don't have to be mutually exclusive," Paris opined with a smile.

"You see, I very much need a therapist. Starfleet Psych did a wonderful job putting me back together after all that time as a ghost, and Sonak helped me overcome my issues and really become whole. But hurled through time like this... now I have an all new set of issues, not the least of which is the lack of Sonak in my life. It's like half of me is just, just gone, and all I have left is the bit of his katra that I carry, just as he has a bit of mine." The blonde bombardier paused a moment there, staring off in reverie.

"It sounds like you need a dedicated therapist." The EMH remarked. Then another thought occurred to him. "I don't think any of the biological therapists aboard can dedicate the time you need. You... You would need someone like me to not only dedicate their time to you, but... Oh my, I'd have to increase my run time exponentially to help you. If that's what you want, that is."

"Doctor, you need, well, life experience. You need to be online and interacting, to see if you can... compile... into an adult, right? Me, I need a therapist. I am absolutely running nonstop and trying not to think about my actual life because I'm terrified and homesick and in way over my head and I'm making friends but this universe, it's..." Paris trailed off as she realized she was working herself into a lather. Sheepishly, she shrugged and grimaced. "I need someone to talk to who won't judge me or hold it against me or think lesser of me. Someone who I can admit that I don't know how the three seashells work who won't roll their eyes at me because everyone learns that as a child. Not that everyone onboard would, but..."

Not bothering to await any acquiescence to her proposal, Paris began to blurt out her feelings in a vomit of confessional, "Thex is a good friend, but she has problems of her own and doesn't need mine too. The Captain is nice but... I don't know, I think she was disappointed I wasn't the 'real' Rita from her universe. I lock horns with the XO, I think because he reminds me of my father. Bt my assistant chief is this amazing women and a hell of a pilot. The Baroness... the pirate, she's a lot of fun. The kid, Akira... she was the first photonic person I ever met. So very sweet and brilliant and innocent, and I guess just vulnerable. She's still putting herself together and figuring out who she wants to be, and that's amazing to me. The scientist, Vaemyn, the, ah, Vorta, right. He's got a surprising sense of humor, and he's not condescending at all, which is a relief when you have to ask the stupid questions."

"These people... I'm making friends and starting to build a life. But I still cry myself to sleep way too much. I miss my ship, I miss my captain, I miss my man..."

"I miss understanding the world around me," Paris admitted, then scrunched up her face as the waterworks began. "I know it's a big learning curve and I know it's a lot to take in and I know, I know I'm only human. But I want to know, I want to understand. I'm an explorer, and this is a lot to explore, and most of what I used to know isn't relevant anymore so I have to learn everything. And my stress levels are through the roof and I'm not dealing with it all well."

"Help?" the time-tossed temptress asked simply, batting those baby blues.

The EMH had little life experience but he had extensive life programming and he knew that sort of look from his programming and 'training'. Moving closer, he wrapped one arm around her and squeezed her shoulders gently. "Shhh... It's ok. I'm here for you. Whatever happens, I'll be here for you. I promise. These things will take time, but things will get better. I promise you that as well." He wasn't quite sure where to start building a therapy plan since as far as he knew Rita's case was unique, but perhaps piecing together other plans, he could come up with something that could help her.

As much as she did not want to, Paris needed that hug, and the simple reassurance that there was help available. Pride and suspicion had kept her from seeking out a biological entity to help her, but somehow compassion from this sophisticated program that dreamed of being more was exactly what she needed. For a few minutes she literally cried on the holographic doctor's shoulder, then with a rather pronounced sniffle she began composing herself once more. As she mopped at her eyes with the heels of her hands, she chuckled.

"Thanks Doc... I needed that. And I feel... okay, talking with you. I trust you, so... if you don't mind being here for me, I sure do need someone to talk to, who can help me cope with all of this." Paris paused to giggle for a few seconds. "Like the fact that I can't relate to the folks in Sickbay, but I can confide in the holographic doctor who needs to experience life. If seeing a mess of a human being in action will help you grow, I'm definitely your gal, Doctor."

"Well, anytime you need me, just say the magic words and I'll be there. It seems I'm only used in sickbay during major crisis, so my schedule is normally rather open. Also, thanks to this ship's unique systems, I can make house calls." The EMH smiled in a manner he hoped was warm and polite. He may have been programmed for efficiency over bedside manner, but this event seemed to trigger something in him... He felt compassion for this woman. Something he was programmed to understand, but had yet to actually feel for any of his patients. Perhaps it was because she was the first one that treated him as something more than a medical instrument. He wasn't as sophisticated as the other photonics on the ship, after all. Why would they? As he processed the array of thoughts, his face twitched a bit, but eventually he nodded. "So... Would you like to set up regular appointments then?"

A smile spread across the face of the beleaguered bombshell- for a change, not one designed to dazzle or distract. Instead this was an honest smile, with a hint of hope in it. “Yes, Doctor… I would like that very much, if you don’t mind. And if we could do it in my quarters, that would save holodeck time, and… it would ensure privacy. Not like I am ashamed of therapy or speaking to a therapist or anything, it’s just…” Paris paused, reaching for an answer that eluded her temporarily. When she spoke again, it was with conviction.

“I don’t want people to know how often I need to talk to someone. I know it will be part of my medical record, and if they go looking, that’s fine. I’ve survived more in this lifetime than most, and Sonak always said it was a miracle I was as sane as I was given my circumstances. But you… did you know you are the first person to honestly get why I am so frazzled and actually offer me any comfort, Doc? That means a lot to me.” Reaching over, Paris put her own hand over that of the holographic doctor, offering him that hopeful smile. “I’m a stranger in a strange land, and someone who cares would really help me a lot. You listen and you get it, and I need that more than I can say.”

"I don't normally get thanked. I'm not sure how to react, really. Thank you." The EMH smiled again, this time in a much more genuine fashion. "For your appointments, how are Mondays and Thursdays? To start with? After your shift?"

“Um, I was thinking more…” Paris began to express that Monday through Friday post shift was a better idea, but that sounded far too needy. He was a psychiatrist, not a babysitter. “How about Monday, Wednesday and Friday, at least to start? I know it’s a bit much, but… I’m really stressed,” she admitted. “And you should be thanked- you are choosing to help me, so why would I not extend common courtesy and thank you?” Of course, Rita usually phrased her requests with a ‘please’ when issuing a request to the ship’s computer and often thanked it afterward.

The EMH nodded a bit deeper this time. "Three days of the week it is. You are in a very unique situation and perhaps I can help you with your studies as well. I do have some very adaptive programming, after all."

“Unique most certainly describes my situation," Paris laughed gaily, a sound he'd certainly not heard until now. "I’d appreciate that, Doctor. I’m trying to teach myself, well, everything in between living in the flight simulator and whatever crisis of the moment is arisen. But maybe someone to study with who doesn’t assume everyone knows certain things would work better for me. And it would help you too, right? Help you… compile?” Paris wrinkled her nose at the phrase. “That seems like a dirty word. It will help you… to grow, to expand your horizons and maybe understand the human condition a bit better?”

"Well... In my creator's infinite wisdom, they did make me in the likeness of a human... A famous one, I'm told. So there must be something to being human worth investigating." The EMH grinned broadly, fully confident in his actions again. "Alright then, Rita Paris, together we will become the best Starfleet officers we can be while aboard the Hera." He then stuck his hand out for a hand shake.

With a comfortable smile, Rita Paris lowered her lashes a bit to shake the hand of her photonic psychiatrist. "To becoming the best Starfleet officer's we can be... brilliant, Doctor."