Chapter 16
A portion of the crew was assembled on the hangar deck. Others were watching or listening from their duty stations or from their quarters. Officers were in their place. I was in mine. The body was in its place, a photon torpedo tube, half shell.
“So here we are, the lot of us, assembled here for a purpose, a purpose as yet unknown, or at least unspoken, and my first speech comes with this: a death. This is the body of a man. It is not the person. This is not Thomas Smith. I didn’t get to know the man who once possessed this body. My understanding is, no one here got the chance to know him. I can only assume, like the rest of us, he wanted to be here. Actually, it’s more than an assumption. I genuinely believe that none of us would be here unless some part of us, something deeper and with greater access to wisdom than we usually touch with our conscious mind, didn’t want us to be here.
“And, so, again, here we are, facing a hard truth about our shared reality. Whether you believe this is a dream or a fantasy, or a parallel universe, there is a hard truth confronting us here. There is a tangible barrier, and we have a name for it, and if you cross it, that’s it. I don’t know anything about this man’s other life. I don’t know if he returned to that other life or is off having adventures elsewhere, or if he is starting over from scratch, or, worse case imaginable, this was it. I don’t know. I don’t know if I should place meaning on it, or just default to it ‘is what it is.’ I could make it meaningful. We all can. This body, this empty vessel, serves as a reminder that this is not who we are, but that we all go here, and whatever it was that brought us together, we are here for a reason which we will discover together. We can use this moment as a reminder to be kinder, to get to know each other so that if… no, let’s be very clear here, ‘when,’ this thing we’re touching on here, death, it is inevitable, it’s coming for us all… Let this be a reminder that when death comes for us we can meet it directly and smile and say, I was a part of something bigger than me.
“I’ve been advised to keep this short. We’re about to embark on a mission, to explore strange new worlds, and I dare say ‘strange’ will be an understatement, and this body here can serve as a reminder or an omen. Every one of you here has a story, something you’re bringing to the table, something that will help us understand this space we’re about to explore. None of us have a clue what we’re going to encounter, but there is evidence that humanity has reached a threshold; we are at childhood’s end, and we will grow up and join those who desire to welcome us with open arms, or we will return to the endless night from which we rose. We grow up, or we become this here: an empty vessel.
“You have all been commissioned, and given the knowledge you need to thrive here, and we need you, I need you. I need you to know this is for real and you need to know your job and if you don’t think you can do it or you don’t think you can learn it or you don’t think you can play well with others, now is the time to let us know and checkout without prejudice. In twenty four hours, we will break orbit and proceed towards our destiny. We go in full knowledge that there will be risk involved. Which, interestingly, I was just reminded the other day by a new friend, that risk is our business. Until the end. We say goodbye to one of our own. Thomas Smith, God speed.”
I heard the OOD call everyone to display arms as I turned and touched his comm. badge. “Enterprise, one to transport, Captain’s override, destination null.”
I stepped back as the transporter beam took the body away. It struck me that the beam was less colorful than what I had witnessed with Loxy during a normal, live body transport. The energy points that mapped out what looked like human chakras were missing. This body was just matter, nothing more. I don’t know if anyone else noticed, and I wasn’t about to bring it up, though it gave me secret hope. The table and casket went with him.
“Crew dismissed,” I said. And I walked to the nearest exit, through the space where the body had previously been.
I was paged to Jung’s office, where he met me at the door as if he were expecting me. “Oh, come in, my boy. Come in, have a seat,” he said.
His office more resembled a private home bar than the office or library I imagined it would be. I followed him past the couch and the lounge chair, and sat at the ‘bar.’ There was a viewer over the sink that had live scene of a picturesque farm during a light falling of snow. It looked peaceful outside that ‘window’ while inside it was warm with light, and near the couch a wall monitor offered a fireplace. The bar was a circular in design, with three elevated chairs. There was an ashtray on the bar that held Jung’s pipe, and the fresh smell of tobacco was in the air. Jung pulled a bottle out, reflected over it, put it back, and retrieved another. He hardly paid me any mind as he peeled the foil and then proceeded to open the bottle. He poor us both a glass of peach flavored wine.
“I don’t drink,” I said.
“Today you do,” Jung said, pushing the glass towards me.
I pushed it back.
“Sorry you opened a bottle, but I don’t drink,” I said.
“If House invites you to drink with him, decline. If I pour you something, consider it a prescription.” Jung said. “So, now, your choice is a glass of wine, or I prescribe you a psychotropic. Which would you prefer?”
“I don’t require a psychotropic,” I said.
“Wine it is,” Jung pushed it back towards me. He took his glass and his pipe to his chair. The side table next to his chair had what I first assumed was an advanced medical device, maybe a newfangled hypo-spray adapted from TOS, but it turned out it was simply an electronic cigarette, filled with a red substance that I learned later was a strawberry cartridge. In an open case were several other cartridges including chocolate, coffee, menthol, vanilla, and apple. He saw my interest and asked: “Would you like to try it?”
“I don’t think I need another vice,” I said.
“Um,” he said, musing over his glass. “And what vice do you believe you have?”
“Is this a therapy session?” I asked.
“Do you want it to be?” Carl asked.
I leaned back into the couch, still holding my drink. I set the drink down. I noticed the disapproving look Jung was holding, so I picked it back up, sipped it. It was okay, as far as wines go. “Let me guess, Rossi informed you I saw her.”
“She did,” Jung said. “Care to read her assessment?”
“Not, particularly, no,” I said.
“Afraid?” Jung asked.
“Nope, just don’t believe doing so would be helpful,” I said. It was clear to me Jung wanted me to expound. He has that way of soliciting information without speaking. He set his wine down long enough to light his pipe. Once the pipe was going, he resumed holding his wine. “As Captain, she would know I would be privy to anything she wrote, and so either she wrote something completely innocuous, or she exaggerated her opinions, but even if it she wrote something professionally accurate, whatever she wrote about me is likely to stick in my brain and interfere with my future dealings with her, and while we’re speaking of her, why did you assign me to her?”
“Because we have more of a friendship than a counseling relationship,” Jung said. “Hence the reason you and I are sharing a glass of wine and basically bullshitting each other as oppose serious heavy lifting.”
“We’re friends?” I asked.
“That’s how I see us. How do you see us?” Jung asked.
“You’re kind of grandfather-ish, without the feel of family,” I said. “Better than family.”
“There you go,” Jung said. “So, what did you think of Rossi?”
“Besides being oppositional?” I asked.
“That’s the wrong word,” Jung corrected me. “How about challenging?”
“You mean antisocial?” I corrected.
“Oh, John, please. You know better than to make that lay mistake. She’s more asocial than antisocial. There’s a difference,” Jung said.
I nodded. “You’re right. Forgive my transgression,” I said.
He sucked on his pipe, blew a ring ceiling-wards; technically, skywards is in all directions? “She is way more introverted than you, and is not likely to be seen at ship social functions or even at the bar. You might catch her at the park in front of Fleet headquarters, feeding the ducks,” Jung said. He took a time out to sip his wine. “I am actually surprised you don’t want to read her assessment.”
“Please,” I said. “Let me guess, John is too permissive, too promiscuous, and outside of an ethical counseling relationship, lacks any semblance of social boundaries.”
“Project much?” Jung asked.
“You’re saying she didn’t say anything like that?” I asked.
“I am curious. Your excuse not to read her report is that you don’t want to be unduly influenced, and yet, you’re clearly already influence, so wouldn’t you rather be more influenced by her actual assessment than your assumptions?”
“That, actually, sounds reasonable,” I said. I paused wondering why I was holding a glass of wine, remembered and took a sip before continuing. “But I think, if she remains my counselor, she will function better if she knows I am not scrutinizing her reports.”
“And you’re worried about your boundaries?” Jung asked. “Or worried that other people will question your boundaries?”
“Do you suppose I have a sex addiction?” I asked.
“Nice, just throw it right out there,” Jung said. “What do you think?”
“Rogerian therapy doesn’t work on me,” I said.
“And you wonder why I picked Rossi as your counselor?” Jung asked. He inhaled deeply on his pipe, blew it out in one long, sustained exhale. “I am not doing Rogerian, I am asking you your opinion.”
“I don’t meet the criteria for sex addiction per the DSM V, however, I do worry about the frequency of sexual thoughts, and how easily I am distracted, and I am fairly promiscuous by anyone’s definition, and extremely permissive when it comes to what people chose to do sexually.”
“It’s called being sex positive. Don’t you watch ‘sexplanations?’” Jung asked.
“Oh, I love that Doctor,” I said. And I do, I think she’s quirky and fantastic and absolutely brilliant. OMG! “That’s my point. I will watch that because I love the Doctor and after I am hot and bothered I will chase her down with ‘theonlyluca’ on mute.”
“Nice juxtaposition” Jung pointed out. “The talking woman followed by the silent woman.”
“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” I said. Can a glass of wine be a scything object?
“Well, it really is the only way to watch Luca,” Jung said. “I have tried to watch her with the sound, but I find her discourse confusing. She doesn’t want to be seen as a sex object, and ranted that entire episode where she went to that job interview and was surprised it was a porn job as opposed to a hosting a television show, but she is definitely using sex to keep her numbers up.”
“Right?!” I said. “Not that anything’s wrong with that. If had exploitable attributes I would be uploading videos to youtube. But, the only attribute I have is brain, and no one wants to hear me rant, even on mute. Maybe if I had been smarter, I could have been making money with minecraft videos. That one guy, walking to the far lands, not even trying to build anything that was just absolutely brilliant! I was so sad when he lost his dog.”
“So, back to the sex thing,” Jung said. “You know, Freud and I parted ways because of the sex thing. Clearly it’s a huge driving force with you, but it’s true for most people, and not what Freud thought it was. Are you aware that I had multiple affairs, some were even with patients? I even brought one of my loves home to live with me and my first wife, and we called her the second wife.”
“No way,” I said.
“Look it up,” Jung said.
“You slept with a patient?!” I asked.
“Oh. Yeah. Several. The ethical guidelines in my time are not what they are in yours, and I can prove those clients actually got better because of the intensity of our relationship,” Jung said. It was clear he was thinking, brainstorming, and he clearly chose to be verbal as he free flowed his associations and observations of where I was from where he was. “One of the things that interests me though is there are all kinds of professional ethical guidelines for counselors and medical doctors in your time, but these guidelines aren’t applied to lawyers and judges. Isn’t that peculiar? If anyone is going to be emotionally vulnerable or compromised, it’s going to be with a lawyer. People in your time have really made too much ado about sex. Sociologically speaking, there is no sex addiction. Just ask Durkheim. An increase in promiscuous behavior in any society is evidence of a lack of social connectedness. There is evidence that in your world line that there has been a clear decrease in social connectedness, more pronounced in Western societies than in Eastern, but epidemic in the United States. Any law or punitive measure, or ‘medicalizing’ this perceived condition of the individual straying from perceived, societal norms only increases the rates at which you will find ‘disease’ in society, because the punishment increases isolation and social disease, by definition. Men, in Western society, whether right or wrong, have always been responsible for building society. In a society where there are few outlets to forge true relationship, there will always be an increase in perceived ‘base’ drives, because this is one way to increase connections. And a necessary one. Without a base, you can’t have a top the pyramid. And Maslow’s pyramid is a great model, but people aren’t aware that the actual top of the pyramid is transcendence, and sex is the base.”
“So basically, you’re saying the cure for sex addiction is having more sex?” I asked.
“Relationships are the number one cure for sex addiction. Just ask any married couple,” Jung said. “The longer they’ve been married, the less sex they have. And what’s worse is your DSM V has medicalized it by labeling it ‘hypoactive sexual disorder,’ or, more often blaming the woman directly, labeling her with ‘female sexual interest/arousal disorder.’ There is nothing wrong medically or psychologically with the women of the 21st century that can’t be better explained by being overworked, underpaid, insufficiently nurtured, and stigmatized and objectified by marriage, society, and the medical community. And I can prove it. Follow any woman who has been given this diagnosis, and if you do nothing else to her but give her a divorce and her life back, her libido goes through the roof! These women can’t get enough sex once they get out of this box we painted them into. But see, that’s the other lament, right? The medicalizing of mental health through the DSM V is about profitability in pharmaceuticals, not about actually curing conditions. Case in point, codependence is a well-defined term and the only reason it isn’t in the DSM V is because you can’t throw a drug at it. Only therapy diminishes the symptom set.”
Jung sounded a little irritated, but I perceived it as passion; I just had to wonder, was he usurping my own rant, or did we share sentiments. Is this a dream? Someone shares my laments? “People in your time are more interested in a relationship with their cellphones than each other, and yet they wonder why intimacy has decreased? And while marriage sex is on the decline, the rates of affairs have gone up. Men and women alike are both having more affairs, and the doctors treating the women for sexual dysfunction aren’t taking this into account because the women aren’t going to acknowledge affairs in the office in front of their husbands. And, again, the reason for infidelity is because of a lack of social connectedness and intimacy in our everyday lives. And it’s not just a simple problem. It’s complex, with media and tech and diminished activities in natural setting, and social constraints induced by fear that resulted in overreactions. Yes, there was a reasonable need by society to decrease work place harassment, because most of that shit was just bad, but at the same time, instead of increasing conversations about it, society addressed it in a militant way that shut down all conversation which left people even more isolated, resulting in more infidelity and promiscuity, while driving the harassment underground. And because we responded militantly instead of opening dialogues for true change, the women who were morally right to cry foul were shunned on multiple levels, once by the peers, second by the court system that victimized them a second time, third by their families, and then finally by society. Nobody won anything because it was a fight and not a discussion. Harassment is alive and well, just less visible with one exception: there is now this entity called politically correct which has become the new way of harassing folks into submission fearing anything that might result in a conversation that leads to understanding and improvement. Interestingly, as more and more women take leadership roles, and more and more men become servants, women are assuming the lead in the underground harassment area, and men are more likely to remain silent because society still can’t allow that men might be equally susceptible to harassment or abuse, because they are still perceived as the ‘stronger’ sex.
“Where are we going with this? Ah, yes. Ultimately, the true problem isn’t sex or frequency but a lack of communication. Society has lost its ability to communicate with each other. Any perceived loss or threat on the social arena leads to extreme behaviors. In the west, and I’m generalizing, men have been the bridge builders, and women have been the keepers of society, but we are now so individualized, and so adamant in our boundaries of what constitutes our paradigms that if anyone holds one contrasting view, communication ceases. You call yourself permissive, John. I call you open minded. You call yourself promiscuous, but I see it as building connections. All dialogue has to start somewhere, and if there isn’t any intellectual intercourse to be had, well, then you will always default to what’s left, which is usually sexual intercourse. When people engage in physical intimacy, they build emotional energy, and when they build emotional energy, they establish a foothold for shared intellectual activity. If you start the other way around, start with intellectual connection first, utilizing the 21st century Western paradigm model, then society will most likely self-destruct, because the heart and soul has been removed from the conversation.”
I realized my glass of wine was gone. I had finished it during his speech. He sipped his wine.
“Consider every fantasy you ever had, John. Was it about connection, or just sex?” Jung said, pausing to sip his wine, or see if I would respond. I held my tongue. “I can allow for both, but the driving feature of your entire life was looking for connection. The box called society has failed most people, but, instead of giving up on society, you have simply been exploring alternative ways of being. The standard social response to noticeable decline in functioning is to hold firm to past morals and ideas and fear change. You, Sir, recognize, on some level, that though our past ways served us, we have got to change if we are going to survive. So, here we are. And now, I will indulge the speculative part of my brain, my intuition and access to collective unconscious. Out there, scattered over billions of worlds, will be every age and idea of humanity, places where worlds are thriving and where worlds are failing, but each of them will hold something unique and vital that we need to incorporate in our new paradigm. That is why we are here. We need a new paradigm. We have been called to explore and build bridges so that humanity can find a way over this last hurdle. Maybe this is all a dream. Maybe we going so deep into the inner worlds that we have pushed through any previous barrier. Or maybe, this is exactly what we think it is and we need to buckle up for the ride of our life. Because, either way, John. If you have even the remotest interest in someone, if you’re drawn to someone out of passing interest or just plain lust, there’s connection there that needs to be explored. Even if you get a thousand rejections, that’s okay, too, because, well, that also needed to be explored. We build bridge by testing the ground and surveying the landscape. Does that answer your question about any perceived character flaws you might have?”
It took me a moment to even reflect the question back so I could have more time to think about the question. “So, you don’t think any less of me for being promiscuous?” I asked.
“OMG, John, you’re fucking normal and your problem is no one ever told you that because your family of origin had such a perverse relationship with sexuality. Not judging them. Just saying. Your difficulty lies in your own judgment, and I doubt anything I tell you will alter your own perception, nor will it alter your behavior,” Jung said. “There are lots of good studies that show the benefits of sex, even some studies done by Cornwell University showed that one ‘one night stand’ or one casual encounter a week was better than no encounters in terms of reducing stress and improving overall health and ability to perform at work and school. Kissing absolutely boosts your immune system, no matter how you measure it. Immune systems get bored when they aren’t challenged, and kissing is a great way to introduce foreign material, and physical contact stimulates the body and mind. But, who am I, just an old man who probably thinks about sex way more than he should. Don’t take my word for it. Watch Dr. Zhana Vrangalova, a tedtalk lecture, and listen to her tell you all the benefits of being polyamorous. Then practice some REBT, because if you’re going to encourage humanity to move beyond the boundaries and definitions that have failed the species, then we need to reconsider everything, even the modern relationship. No ownership of property means no ownership of people, and marriage was traditionally about ownership. But if you’re not ready, if that’s too radical, then you can move in small steps, and aim for monogamish.”
“Well, if I spend any time on this ship, I doubt very seriously my immune system will get bored, Doctor,” I said. “I can’t turn around without my eyes falling out. I haven’t seen an unattractive female on the ship yet.”
“Everyone here seems fairly healthy,” Jung agreed.
“That is an understatement,” I said. “And it’s not just the humans! The aliens have my attention, too, and though so far I have maintained a reasonably professional front, I worry I won’t be able to maintain it.”
“Just be yourself. And allow others to be themselves, and react however,” Jung said.
That was probably the most reasonable thing to do, because, I really wasn’t going to change my fundamental nature. I never got mad at Kirk for kissing someone new. I never got mad at James Bond. Granted, I gave them more license to play because they were saving worlds. Then again, I was about to start saving worlds, so I had future context for freedom to play. Still… “I always imagined if I arrived somewhere like this, some place that is sacred enough that I call it heaven, that I would be a better person. I also imagined nonstop euphoria, going around dancing like Gene Kelly or smiling up daisies like Danny Kale,” I said.
“If you’re referring to the scene in Wonder Man, I think he was sneezing, not smiling,” Jung said.
“You’ve seen it?” I asked.
“You have alluded to more than one movie and actor, so I made myself a list and have been going through them in my spare time,” Jung said. “As it turns out, I actually saw Wonder Man at the theatre. Back then it was black and white. I am not sure I like these colorized versions.”
“Oh, I am so with you on that,” I said. “See! I shouldn’t care. But I am just annoyed about that here as I was there.”
Jung nodded, put his glass down and focused only on his pipe. “I find that watching movies provide me with greater insight into how society has changed over time. You should be happy you’re annoyed. You’re confronting an archetype.”
“Oh, please,” I said.
“Indulge me. Since we’re talking about sex, go with Wonder Man; which love interest do you prefer? Virginia Mayo or Vera-Ellen?” Jung asked.
“Vera-Ellen, hands down,” I answered without hesitation.
Jung nodded, as if he had predicted my answer.
“What?”
“So, if we go with unconscious keys from the script, you’re Danny, but wanting the dead brother’s girl?” Jung said.
“Or, I just like Vera Ellen. Something about that Christmas outfit,” I said. And now I had the song Santa Baby in my head. “I mean, it’s not like you offered me Diana Dors.”
“Oh, well, god, yeah, Hands down.”
“And what does ‘hands down’ mean,” I said. “I mean, really, don’t we raise our hands to ask please? Pick me? And so like, Diana Dors would be both hands up?”
“Or both hands full,” Jung said.
“Oh, fortune rarely comes with both hands full,” I said. OMG, why didn’t I invite Shakespeare into my world? “And that’s just what I was trying to say. My life goes on in exactly every sense of the word, with the exception that I am here and people are calling me the Captain and they will likely live or die on decisions I make and I should probably be a lot more worried than I am, but I haven’t like freaked out and thrown myself out of an airlock.”
“Are you considering suicide?”
“No,” I said. “It’s just an expression.”
“So, you’re not going to tell me suicide is painless,” Jung said.
“I might tell you I like the song,” I said. “Have I told you I love our conversations?”
“Thank you, John,” Jung said. “I am thoroughly enjoying being here. I am really hopeful for the future. This feels like we have arrived.”
“You know those dreams when you’re in a hallway and you’re looking at the destination but it’s rushing away from you and yet it’s still connected to where you are as if reality was being stretched? That’s not just a dream symbol, or metaphor, but it’s actually the reality we live in. Look in any direction out into space and you will find every part of reality is receding away from you, accelerating away, but it’s still connected and that space-time is actually stretching. Every single one of us is in his and her own special time warp and we’re all rushing away from each other, and have been since the start, and so even though you’re in the room just down the hall, I can’t ever get to your room and visit, because we’re moving away from each other at escalating speeds, and yet, you’re suggesting, we, our crew, are going to build something that will help bind us together? I can’t even get past my own personal pornos of everyone, and you’re thinking transcendence.”
“I think you are more normal than you think you are, and definitely kinder than you think you are,” Jung said. “And I would be surprised if pornos and transcendence aren’t connected fundamentally.”
I went to drink more wine only to remember my glass was empty.
“Care for more?” Jung asked.
“No, thank you,” I said.
“What are you thinking?” Jung asked.
“I’m thinking ‘and I thought my interaction with Rossi was exhausting,’” I said.