Day by Day

Posted on 30 Nov 2014 @ 8:52pm by Commander Andreus Kohl

1,164 words; about a 6 minute read

[ON]


Andreus Kohl's Personal Log, supplemental entry...

I think I might be stuck in a time loop. Admittedly, this isn't the first time I've said this to you, oh personal log of mine. I know I've said it before, and I know I've been proved wrong every time. But this time, this time, I think I'm right.

Maybe I'm not accustomed to life on a starbase. I mean, when I become a slave to routine aboard Galileo, we're always flying past a different star, which proves it's a new day. But this? Shore leave on a starbase? Every day is the same. Worse, I've trapped myself in a behaviour spiral. My decisions today are an extreme reaction to my decisions from last night, and then my decisions tonight will be an extreme reaction to my decisions from today. I live in constant guilt over how I've chosen to spend my time, and so I try to make up for lost time as quickly and intensely as possible.

There's also past habits to contend with. When I practiced medicine, I abstained from drinking anything harder than synthehol while I was aboardship. I'm not one of those elitists who claims he can feel the difference between alcohol and synthehol. A buzz is a buzz, a drunk is a drunk. When I practiced medicine, though, there was always a fear that I could be called to duty at a moment's notice. Perhaps there would be a red alert, or the chief medical officer might be killed on an away mission. A person's life might rely on my treatment - the chief medical officer's life perhaps- and I couldn't bear the thought of being incapable of acting, just because I wanted a bit of drink.

Of course, then, because I abstained from real alcohol for weeks or months at a time, I started to crave it. It became one of those things - the knowledge that I was depriving myself, that decision alone, made me crave it all the more. I suppose what I craved was that truly and absolute loss of control. I suppose that's the only noticeable difference for me. With synthehol, even if it makes you forget and lose your senses, you always remember at the back of your mind that you can wipe away it's effects. Wipe it clean. But with alcohol, it's debilitating effects can sneak up on you. It can pounce, and drop you, and once you've fallen, you can only escape by riding it out - or sleeping it out.

And so, even now that I've stopped practicing medicine for the most part, shore leave still means an alcohol binge-fest in my heart of hearts. It's what I know. It's my time to stop worrying, or thinking, or living by a schedule. And so I've been drinking. But then, when I wake up the next morning (or later that afternoon), I feel guilty about it. I think about the impressive hospital aboard the starbase, and I sober up to take full advantage of the rehabilitation facilities. I'm still recovering from the nerve damage, of course, impairing the function of my legs. And then... now... also... there's the back. I twisted it, pulled it, tore it when I was caught in the cave-in with the rest of the away team to the mines of Lyshan Three. I returned to my duties immediately afterwards. There were injuries to treat, and the ship was suffocating on tribbles. Of course I returned to my duties. But now, my back...

Which means I'm working with a rehabilitation specialist every day. It's funny, almost. My first shore leave from Galileo, I fell in love with a physiotherapist, and now I've spent every shore leave since engaged in my own functional rehabilitation. But that's a galling thought, as well. Spending my shore leave in treatment. And so, after my appointments, or before my appointments, I go to the bars. Or I bring a drink to the pool. I feel bad about spending my shore leave in hospital, and then I feel bad about spending my shore leave in a pub, and I bounce between them both. Every day the same.

Time loop.

Computer, end log.

--

Andreus Kohl's Personal Log, supplemental entry

I don't- I don't know how I feel about it yet. About the promotion, and about the new position in particular. It's as if Captain Holliday handed me a box wrapped it paper, and he told me it was mine. It's as if he told me this box would change everything, change my life, and he told me it was mine.

Except...

Except, all he did was peel off one corner of the paper, and he showed me a peak at what was beneath. He showed me a glimpse of the box, and he handed me the box, and then he told me to go put it in a cupboard. He told me to put it in a cupboard, because it wasn't time to open the box yet. It's shore leave, he said. Go have fun, he said (in not so many words). Don't open the box. He told me to wait.

How am I supposed to know how I feel about the box, about the changes it brings, until I can rip it open and pull it out? How am I to know?

Computer end log.

--

Andreus Kohl's Personal Log, supplemental entry

I had a dream last night.

Okay, okay, I can only imagine how fanciful that must sound. How poncy. "I had a dream..." Lalala.

But, anyway. I had a dream. I don't know what it means, but I'm sure it means something. I'm sure of it. I dreamt I was in a hedge maze. I think it may have been on Earth, maybe it was during my last shore leave? But it was also on Argelius. Or at least, it was on the grounds of an Argelian temple. A Temple of Whereness. Not the one where I was born, but another one. Another one from the same order.

I was already wandering the maze when I became conscious of the dream. It was a maze... or it was a labyrinth. Maybe it was a labyrinth, leading me closer and closer to the centre, and the monster waiting for me. Only the monster wasn't a monster. He was beautiful. He was a man. The labyrinth led me right to him. I don't know what planet he was from; it certainly wasn't Earth nor Argelius Two. We spoke of art, and food and the right to bear arms. We looked for our way out of the labyrinth, but then the labyrinth became a maze. We became lost. We were lost, but we were together.

And then, the man, he told me something. He told me he was the soul of the Borg drone that crippled me. And then I woke up.

[OFF]

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