The two of us, McCoy and I, stood by the doorway and just looked at him. He had his rested on his arms, positively miserable. He hadn't even looked up at us upon our entry, which I found not only illogical but consequently rude. But he was my best friend, and he was hurting.

"Considering his longevity...It's trully an eternal trying." McCoy muttered.

He angled himself more in my direction.

"You wouldn't understand that, would you Spock?" He crossed his arms and looked at me, "You see, I feel sorrier for you than I do for him. Because you'll never know the things that love can drive a man to."

I raised my eyebrow, indicating what he would take as human nonchalance.

"The ecstasies, the miseries...The broken rules...The desperate chances! The glorious failures...The glorious victories." His tongue lazily rolled around the inside of his cheek, "All these things you'll never know. Simply because the word love isn't written into your book."

I looked at the doctor the same way I always did, the same way that he expected me to. He was incorrect, as it were. The word love was written into my book. I fully comprehended it's meaning, etymologies, and effect on the human being.

But love is just a word when you think like a machine.

Out of the vast stores of my computer-like brain, those words- the words to an old song I knew once- were pulled to the front of my conscious. They hung there, suspended like an odd chemical.

"Goodnight, Spock." McCoy said, bringing my attention back to focus.

"Goodnight, Doctor."

McCoy turned slowly back to where Jim was sitting, his head miserably folded into his hands

"I do wish he could forget her." The doctor muttered loftily, before exiting out the door.

I was about to follow, but I turned around and looked back at Jim. I also wished he could forget her.

I slowly walked over to my friend.

I had every intention of giving him a solitary clap on the shoulder, an action that would be considered in bad taste had I been home on Vulcan.

However, as I got closer and saw the pain on his face, my hand seemed to change course.

Tempted to just peer into his emotions for one second, my spindly fingers came to rest on the side of his head, near the temporal region.

Immediately, I was swept up into a deep, mucky pit of sorrow.

My heart cavity felt heavy, as if someone had replaced the organ with a wet brick. My hands trembled and my throat caught with every breath, as if my very body didn't want to live anymore.

The emotion triggered a huge flashback, as before my eyes I seemed to fall away from reality, backwards in time to that fateful day.

The day I met Ensign Perry.


I sat in my chair in the new computer library. Starfleet has just been sent updated cataloguing software. It was going to be illogically painstaking, but all of the old files had to be completely re-entered into the new system.

I looked down at my communicator. The digital numbers blinked back at me.

A crewman was supposed to meet me there 10 minutes prior, to begin loading the data. As First Officer of the USS Enterprise, I really had no time to spare.

I turned as I heard the door open. I wasn't in a very agreeable mood, Vulcan's are very strict about punctuality.

The Ensign stepped into the lab. She was shorter than most, with dirty blonde hair that was worn down long with very blunt looking bangs, reminiscent of 1960's earth. She was struggling under a heavy silver box, filled with hundreds of tiny memory banks that she would have the thrilling job of transferring.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, sir." She huffed, plopping the box down on the table in front of me. She looked at my face, eyes suddenly a bit wider, "First Officer Spock."

I tilted my head slightly.

"Have you gotten your orders?" I asked.

She nodded rapidly, sending her bangs flying at strange angles.

"Yes, Mr. Spock. Cataloguing all of this onto the new systems. Every star, planet, moon and civilization, Alpha to Zeta." She hastily rubbed her hands onto the bottom of her red dress.

I stood from my chair.

"Correct. Allow me to take you through the process..." I motioned her to sit in a chair in front of the blinking, beeping computer panel, "Your name, Ensign?"

"Ensign Susan Perry, sir." She replied, sitting.

Three quarters of an hour later, I finished explaining the process. Perry's face looked scrunched and mildly confused.

With a pang of human annoyance, I handed her one of the files.

"Do it."

She looked at me with big eyes. They were a very peculiar shade of blue, very dark and strangely intense.

She accepted the file and pushed it into the computer.

To my surprise, within seconds her tiny fingers were flying around the panel. She had the entire thing converted in under 3 minutes, and in 2.3 more she had uploaded the entire contents under the system.

"Correct, Mr. Spock?"

I didn't need to lean over her, I had been watching the whole process expertly.


I turned and picked up 2 more files from the box, handing her one and placing the other in my own panel.

For another hour or so we worked, speaking only when she had to ask a question and I only when I had to answer it.

Just as I had finished uploading the Canfargian System, she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her fingers.

She looked at me and grinned.

"It's enough to make your fingers want to drop off, huh, Mr. Spock?" She chuckled to herself and stretched a little, "Then again I guess it comes with the whole 'Boldly go where no man has gone before' territory."

I looked at her evenly.

"It is highly illogical that one's fingers would come detached in any way from overexertion."

She laughed brightly and turned back to her computer.

I didn't see the humor.


It was several days into the project, and we were deep in the storage areas of the Enterprise. All of the new boxes of files had been successfully uploaded, and we were now moving backward into all the older, unlabeled records.

Ensign Perry's voice echoed from the other side of a tall tower of boxes.

"Okay, try this one....What did the fish say when it ran into a wall?"

I rolled my eyes irritably. She had been trying to explain the concept of a joke to me for 2.47 hours.

"It would be illogical for a fish to run into a wall, Ensign, given that they can't run."

A snicker came from her direction.

"Okay, okay swam! When it swam into a wall."

"Fish have no vocal chords."

"Dam. Get it? Dam?"

There was silence on my end as I continued digging through another large metal box that had nothing of any importance in it.

"Oh! I've got one that will get you for sure!"

I was beginning to get skeptical that she was even looking anymore, when I heard something clatter and her voice mutter an expletive.

"How do you find the bathroom on the Enterprise?"

I shook my head. This was ludicrous.

"I am well aware as to where the bathrooms on this ship are located."

"Just say HOW, Mr. Spock."

I straightened up, with a handful of files.


"You just follow the Captain's log."

I put the files into a bag, and moved elsewhere in the rather chilly, metallic room.

"Why isn't it funny to you?" She asked, also depositing a handful of files.

"Your statements are illogical."

She sat down on a box.

"What's so dispicable about being illogical?"

I pulled out a drawer of one of the metal cabinets and began looking quickly through the labels.

"I am a man of science. I prefer to view things in a logical manner."

"I don't see how it would be logical to prefer logic when you can't enjoy something as simple as a joke..." She brushed her hair out of her eyes, "All though in your defense, the jokes were pretty awful."

"Vulcans adopt a philosophy as our way of life, and that philosophy is to see things in a fair and rational way. Emotions only hinder that, so it would be logical to eliminate them."

She picked up the bag full of files as I added a few more in.

We took the elevator back up to the computer lab, where she heaved the bag onto the table.

I began to dig into the files, but immediately to my right, the intercom crackled to life.

"Paging Mr. Spock to the bridge, Spock to the bridge, acknowledge."

Perry took the file from my hand and gave me a weak smiles as she sat down at her panel.

I pressed the button on the intercom, muttering "Acknowledged."

As I turned to walk out of the room, Perry said my name, causing me to pause breifly and turn around.

"Can I ask you one more question, Mr. Spock?"

I nodded gravely.

"What is brown and sticky?"

A pang of annoyance rang through me. I had more important things to do than play these silly human games.

"I don't know, Ensign, and I don't see the relevance of this question."

Susan's eyebrows raised and a grin tickled the edges of her lips.

"A stick!"

There was a short silence, and either because the joke was the worst thing she had insulted my intelegence with all afternoon, or due to the tickled look she wore, I brief stretch came over my mouth. It was quite unexpected, totally illogical. My teeth were exposed, my eyes crinkled at the corners and some sort of strange gasp was emitted from my lungs.

I had chuckled.

I shook my head in disgust, quickly setting my mouth in it's customary line.

"Continue cataloguing, Perry. I want halfway through Alpha programmed before we reach Colony Beta VI."

I found the bridge in quite a dismal state. McCoy walked over to me quickly, and informed me that both the Captain and Lt. Sulu had been teleported right off the ship, onto a rogue planet.

"Thats highly illogical." I replied, striding over to the panel to check the readings myself.

"I'm picking up something, Spock." Lt. Uhura said, spinning around to face me.

I looked onto her screen.

The messages that were displayed had an extremely irksome illogical prose to them. It irritated me to realize that Ensign Perry would have found the whole thing quite amusing.

"What should we send back, sir?" Lt. Visale asked from his station.

I straightened, thinking for a moment.

"Hmm. Send this lleutenant:" I paused, putting my words in correct comic order, "USS Enterprise to signaler on planet's surface: tally ho."

There was a pause. McCoy looked at me as though I had just kicked an earth child.

"Some kind of a joke, sir?" Ensign Visale questioned, bewildered.

I felt slightly let down that my efforts at human humor were not taken.

"I'll entertain any theories, Mr. Visale, any at all." I replied, taking seat in command.