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7:00 AM.
Data woke.
The moment the second hand on the clock struck twelve, Data’s eyes snapped open, as precisely on time as every other day the past semester (except for weekends, which, as dictated by human tradition, he allowed himself to “sleep” until ten). He swung his legs out of bed, and stood. A chips wrapper crunched loudly underfoot, and from the other side of the room, there was an unhappy grunt as Data’s roommate – a tall, dark-haired human by the name of Josh – rolled over and tugged the pillow over his head.
Data tilted his head slightly, processing Josh’s body language and matching it to earlier experiences. Over the past several months, he had gathered that humans greatly disliked being woken, and were particularly irritable if they were pulled from sleep earlier than expected. Data also knew that irritability was best responded to with an apology. “I apologize if I woke you,” he said after a moment, having decided that this was the preferable course of action.
But rather than amiably accepting Data’s apology and returning to sleep, Josh rolled back over to shoot him a filthy scowl. “Yeah, you’ve done your damage already,” Josh snapped. “Can’t you be quiet and let me sleep now?”
Data blinked. “I . . . apologize.”
“Hmph.” Josh wrenched the covers over his head, but Data could still hear the muffled mumble: “Wants to be human, my ass.”
“….Your ass?” Data echoed, confused.
“Shut up already!”
Ah. Data had encountered that particular phrase often enough to be quite familiar with it. Making an effort to keep his movements as silent as possible, he picked up his school bag and slipped quietly out the door.
Data preferred early classes, because in his experience, the majority of human social interaction was performed in the afternoon and evening. By taking early classes, he finished his academic duties long before the start of potential novel social experiences. Furthermore, early classes tended to have fewer people, and thus it was easier for Data to carefully observe the other students in his class.
As per usual, there were about fifty drowsy people in the auditorium built for two hundred when Data arrived in his Extremophiles of the Federation class. Of those who were there, approximately 95% of the students had some form of caffeinated beverage – for a few weeks, Data, too, had carried a caffeinated beverage for appearance’s sake, but he had eventually decided it was too cumbersome to be practical.
He took a seat in the back, which provided him with the best vantage point with which to observe his fellow classmates. Most of the students ignored him, save the mousy girl in the front who peeked up at him and followed him to his seat with her eyes. When he met her gaze, she flinched violently and busied herself with her bag. Data watched her curiously. She had been exhibiting the same odd behavior since the second day of class, and he had not yet been able to find a plausible explanation.
After a few moments, the professor entered. The lecture was centered around the new discovery of some fascinating silicone-based bacteria living in the deep ocean trenches of Vulcan, and Data listened intently, while simultaneously examining the behavior of the classmates around him.
The majority of the lecture passed without incident – but around 45 minutes in, Data heard a rustle behind him, and felt one of the other students press something onto his shoulder. There was a tickling sensation against his neck, and when Data turned to look at whatever it was, he found a cockroach complacently waving its antenna.
Data cocked his head curiously. “Intriguing.” He scooped up the little creature and peered at it. The cockroach scuttled around his hand, but Data effortlessly kept it gently cupped in his grasp, continuing to scrutinize its behavior and body structure. After a moment, he turned to the students behind him. “This is a fascinating find,” he said pleasantly. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
He did not notice their expressions of slack-jawed disbelief before he turned back to examining the little creature that was now chirping contentedly in his hand.
Interactions with his fellow students were not always so easy. For instance, en route to the library that afternoon, he was suddenly accosted by the usual intrusive trio – Cadets Johnston, Harris, and Marchese.
“Oi! Data! Android! Look over here!”
The group had begun their interactions with Data approximately halfway through the first semester, and had continued since. At first, Data had thought they were genuinely gratified by his presence, but further observation of human interaction had led him to the conclusion that their behavior was atypical of friendship, and rather, was intended to be at his expense. As suggested by the articles he had consulted on the matter, he attempted to ignore them.
“Maybe he doesn’t understand Standard too well, guys. Maybe we ought to try his native tongue. Vrrr android beep beep come over here beep vrrr beep we want to vrrrrrrr talk to you beep.”
Unfortunately, the articles had failed to mention there was a certain ineffectiveness of “ignoring the bullies”.
Data walked steadily, making no show of having heard them. Undeterred, the group chased after him.
The first one caught up and grabbed his shoulder into a firm grasp, while another swerved in front of him, cutting him off.
“Data, didn’t you hear us?” Marchese said cheerfully, strolling in between the other two. “Do you need your circuits checked?”
“My circuits are functioning adequately. I simply did not desire interaction.”
Behind him, Johnston tsked disapprovingly. “You hear that, boys? The android thinks he is too good talk to us humans!”
“That is not --,”
“Well, android,” Marchese broke in. “We have something that might make you change your mind about us humans; do you wanna see?”
Harris guffawed.
Based on past evidence and the actions he had seen so far, Data surmised that whatever it was the cadets wanted to show him, it was not meant to be a positive experience. “I would prefer to complete my journey to the library,” he told them, but they pointedly ignored him.
“See, android,” Marchese said, rifling through his bag. “We found you a girlfriend.” He tugged out a tricorder and thrust it roughly into Data’s hands.
Harris and Johnston laughed. “Sexy, isn’t she?” Johnston jeered.
Data looked at the tricorder in his hands and tilted his head. “I believe that you misunderstand. I do not feel sexual desire towards any individual . . . including inanimate mechanical objects. I am, however, designed for intercourse with humanoid beings --,”
He was cut off by a sudden burst of rancorous laughter.
“Humanoid!” Harris echoed. “What human do you think is going to want you, android?”
“I do not believe I know the desires of every individual of the human species. Furthermore, humans are not the only humanoid species as you suggest. The vast majority of Federation species are humanoid, including Vulcans, Betazoids, Andorians, Tellarites --,”
“Oh, shut up, android,” Marchese cut in, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot; we know what humanoids are.”
“In that case,” Data said. “May I continue to the library? I must sign up for a time slot for my simulated tactical midterm next week.”
Marchese snorted. “Don’t know why you bother, android. No one’s going to want to serve under you.”
Data blinked at him. “I regret that I do not understand what you mean.”
“You may have duped the admiralty somehow, but once you get out of this academy no one is going to want to be commanded by someone who’s been programmed!”
“Yeah!” Harris joined. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be an actual person. Even Vulcans are who they are by choice, but you’re just a bunch of circuits. You can’t make any decisions you’re not planned to make – there’s a reason we have captains, not computers.”
Data lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips in his best approximation of cordial disagreement. “Your dissent is noted, but my commission in Starfleet is the decision of the admirals and other commanding officers, not of cadets.”
“Maybe officially,” Marchese replied. “But if any of us get assigned to be under your command, we’d request a transfer immediately. Hell, we’d rather resign. We’re not following the orders of some damn computer who doesn’t understand what it means to be human.”
“And we’re not the only ones,” Johnston added. “Everyone thinks the admirals were out of their mind to let you join.”
Data considered this for a long moment. “…I see,” he said, finally.
Just then, the doors of the building next to them swung open, and a large crowd of babbling cadets pushed out into the sidewalk. They converged around the small group surrounding Data, pushing and jostling, and when Cadet Johnston’s hand was shaken lose, Data took the opportunity to slip in among the crowd and disappear. He headed off, walking back towards the dorms, with the words of his fellow cadets still echoing in his mind.
“And that is all we have time for today. We’ll start the next chapter on three-way ANOVA statistics when I see you next week.”
At Commander Perkins’ announcement, the quiet rustle of impatient students immediately turned into a cacophony of chatter and bustle as the class stood and began to shove PADDs and notes into their bags. Perkins watched the students, trying to anticipate just how many would be staying to answer questions. Today hadn’t been a particularly difficult lecture – so, two students at the most, perhaps?
About half-way up the lecture hall, there was a sudden disruption as a bag fell out of the hands of a red-haired cadet and spilled its contents all across the stairs. The cadet swore loudly and crouched to scramble after his belongings, even as the other students pressed against him in their rush to get home. But then, another cadet was at his side, this one with pale-gold skin. The second cadet gathered up the fallen items with inhuman speed that made it almost impossible to see his fingers move, and within only a fraction of a second, he was handing the repacked bag back to its owner. The red-headed student blinked in obvious surprise, but nevertheless managed to nod in thanks.
Ah. That must have been the android, Perkins thought to himself. The teachers of the Academy of course all knew about the android cadet; he earned a perfect score on every test and could have probably tested out of the Academy within a few days, but he continued to take the four-year track to graduation with the rest of the cadets in order to develop his interpersonal skills. Perkins frowned – what was that poor kid’s name again? He couldn’t keep referring to him as the “the android”; that was just rude.
To Perkins’ surprise, rather than leaving the room with the rest of the cadets, the android cadet (goodness, what was his name!) began to approach the podium. Surely he couldn’t have a question about the material?
“Excuse me, Commander. May I speak to you?”
“Ah, yes, of course,” Perkins replied quickly. “Are you understanding the material alright?”
“Yes, Commander, thank you.”
“Ah, then, what do you need to talk about?”
“I intend to leave Starfleet, and the drop-out procedure states that I should inform each of my teachers that I will no longer be enrolled in their classes.”
Perkins stared. The cadet stared back at him, yellow eyes expressionless, and then blinked once. “Leave the academy?” Perkins echoed after a stunned moment. “Whatever for? You’re excelling in all your classes from what I’ve heard, and I daresay you have the highest grade in my class – I exempt your scores in order to keep a normal curve for the rest of the students!”
The cadet tilted his head slightly to one side. “My academic achievements are acceptable. However, I have come to the conclusion that I am incapable of integrating with the rest of my classmates and therefore my presence would disrupt the functioning of any crew I may be assigned to in the future.”
Perkins took a deep breath. It had been a long time since he’d been faced with a problem with group dynamics, and frankly, he was out of practice. But he strongly believed in never letting a cadet go without a fight, and android or not, he wasn’t going to treat this cadet any differently. If an interpersonal relations counselor was what this cadet needed, then that was what Perkins was going to be.
No other students had come up to ask him questions, so Perkins smiled at the cadet and patted his shoulder cordially. “What’s your name, cadet?”
“Data, sir.”
“Well, Data. I have office hours now. Will you come and talk to me about this decision you’re making?”
Data tilted his head curiously again, looking a bit taken aback. “That . . . would be acceptable, sir,” he said after a moment.
“Great. Come, follow me.”
Once they were in his office, Perkins closed the door and gestured to the chair next to the desk. “Sit,” he told Data, and Data obediently sat.
Perkins took the seat opposite him and folded his hands in his lap. “So, tell me, where have you gotten this notion that you can’t be a productive member of a crew?”
“I am currently enrolled in my third semester at the academy,” Data began. “And I have not yet ‘made a friend’. Rather, my classmates’ interactions with me are consistently hostile and indifferent at best.”
“Hostile?” Perkins echoed. “What on earth do you mean?”
“Since my admission into the Academy, I have been the recipient of practical jokes, verbal harassment, and a handful of attempted physical assaults. I believe my experiences with my classmates can be best characterized as ‘being bullied’, which I understand occurs primarily to individuals who do not belong in a given group. Furthermore, a number of cadets have frequently expressed open distaste at the possibility of serving at the same location as myself.”
Perkins let out a low whistle and leaned back in his chair. A surge of anger on behalf of the poor cadet sitting before him had begun to uncurl in the pit of his stomach, and he had to fight to arrange his face into professional blankness. No wonder the poor kid wanted to leave the Academy. “Would you like something to drink, Data – a refreshment?”
Data blinked. “I do not require sustenance, sir.”
“Oh, right.” That would make sense. Well, there went his usual way to relax a tense conversation. Perkins supposed he’d just have to make do without. “So, because you’re being bullied, you think you don’t belong, and shouldn’t be in Starfleet? Is that right?”
Data inclined his head. “Correct.”
Perkins sighed softly. “Data, listen to me. The bullying is not your fault. Bullying is generally not because of some problem with the victim, but a symptom of fault of character of the bullies themselves. And we do not tolerate bullying in Starfleet – I would like to know the names of your assailants, if you’d be willing to tell me. They should be made clear of Starfleet’s stance about treating our comrades.”
“I am not aware of the names of all the culprits,” Data told him. “But most frequently, I encounter Cadets Dylan Harris, Phillip Marchese, Ethan Johnston, Lilith Pearsons, and Jatin Mukerjee.”
Perkins frowned deeply. He’d known Cadet Mukerjee; the boy had seemed bright and friendly during his Thursday morning calculus tutorials. Or rather – he thought he’d known Cadet Mukerjee. He supposed a teacher never quite knew what a student would be like outside of class. Needless to say, he was extremely disappointed.
“Well,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “That’s a start. If you think of anyone else, please, let me know. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And keep this in mind – anyone who bullies you are the ones we don’t want in Starfleet. We want you, Data. You are a promising and intelligent cadet. And just today, I saw you help that other student when he dropped his bag on the stairs today – that was kind and attentive of you, which are two interpersonal traits we value in all our officers.”
Data considered this for a moment. “That is true. However, those are not the only interpersonal skills required of Starfleet officers. I must also learn to earn the respect of those who would be under my command and facilitate cordial and productive group environments that work well in crises. I am not capable of that.”
“Fair enough,” Perkins allowed. “But those skills aren’t easy for even humans. There are plenty of people who have a hard time making friends – I, too, spent almost two years at the Academy without a friend.”
This seemed to get Data’s interest, because he sat up slightly straighter and tilted his head, peering at Perkins in renewed curiosity.
Perkins grinned. “Yeah, social skills aren’t that easy, not even for born and bred humans. If you’re having trouble, that’s understandable, and I don’t want you to give up. Are you receiving any guidance to develop your interpersonal skills?”
“I am not.”
“Well, that sounds unfair to me!” Perkins exclaimed. “Other students are all assigned academic advisors. You’re in the Academy not for the academics as much as the social experience, so it would stand to reason that you should have been assigned a social advisor.”
“That is an interesting notion,” Data said thoughtfully.
“Good. I think you should go the Academy’s counseling center and try to set up weekly appointments with someone there. Most people have trouble in the Academy at some point, but everyone deserves to get support rather than having to leave Starfleet – including you.” Perkins smiled. “I want you in Starfleet, Data, and I’ll make sure you graduate with the ability to be a captain one day. How does that sound?”
“I believe your proposal has merit,” Data replied. “I . . . would like to try to continue my studies in the Academy.”
“Then we’ll make sure you do. If you have any more trouble, you let me know, you hear?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Of course, Data,” Perkins said, with a grin. “I’m glad you’re not going to give up. I see a lot of potential in you.”
Twenty-three years later, Admiral Perkins received a letter from one Lieutenant Commander Data, Second Officer of the Federation flagship, the USS Enterprise-D. Data spoke of his job on the Enterprise, his experiences, and of the multitude of new skills he was learning – he even enclosed a small painting. His letter made it sound like he felt quite at home on that ship, and he finished the letter with a single sentence: “I have many friends now.”
Perkins was very proud.