SquidgeWorld Archive

Title: Cracker Jack Box
Author: Poodle
Rating: PG
Summary: As a cadet at the academy, Data faces the dreaded psych-test with some interesting results.

Cracker Jack Box
By Poodle~

~*~*~*~

"Strike three, you're out!" The man's exasperated voice boomed through the open door as he stormed into the room.

Data tilted his head inquiringly. "Query--"

"Beat it! Scram. I've had it with you. That's the third test in a row you've blown. I'm as game for a good joke as the next guy, but I've got work to do. Out!"

A second instructor entered, hard on the heels of the first. "Jim, you can't throw his out. We've got to complete these tests by 1600. He's the last cadet and--"

"Cadet. Hah! I do the psych-tests on Starfleet Academy cadets. I'm not an engineer. I don't do personality profiles on computer memory chips or whatever nonsensical thing those eggheads in Research and Development drum up."

"His record says he's a cadet." The second instructor looked haggard. "We've got to test him. They've run numerous psych-profiles on the guy. These results should prove accurate." He shook a tape in Jim's direction. "These tests we've been running should have given us the desired results."

"Well, they didn't." Jim's countenance reddened. "I don't know whose idea it was to play this little gag. But I'm in no mood for their buffoonery."

"Buffoonery?" the android repeated curiously, drawing the man's attention.

"Who?" Jim demanded. Seizing the arms of the chair where Data sat, he bore down into his face. "Who's behind this charade? Who sent you in here? It was Weston, wasn't it? Fess up, Android, before I do a memory wipe on that--"

"Jim." The other instructor laid a restraining hand on his colleague's arm. "His record appears official. These transcripts are completely in order. They state that he *is* a cadet."

"I don't care what they state. They're fakes. Weston has this guy wasting our time so we won't meet our monthly quota. He told me he'd get even for that New Year's Eve prank I pulled last--"

"We have to test him," the man argued. "All cadets must face their deepest fear."

"Cadet, nothing. This guy's an android." Jim glared in Data's direction. "Aren't you?"

Data blinked. "That is correct. But it is also correct that I am a Starfleet Academy cadet."

Jim burst into laughter. "See, Lloyd, the guy admits it. Research and Development has really come up with a good one this time. And Weston is taking advantage of it."

Lloyd cleared his throat. "I don't think Research and Development came up with this guy. His record states that his origin is unknown."

"I don't care if they found him in the bottom of a Cracker Jack box. I want him out of here. On the double!"

"Inquiry. Cracker Jack box?" The term intrigued Data almost as much as the professor's animosity. He had met many fascinating humans since entering the Academy, but none whose countenance displayed such varying hues of red. "And could you also explain the concept of buffoonery?"

"This guy's a real riot." Jim's expression was far from pleased.

"A noisy, violent public disorder," Data droned, "Caused by a group or crowd of persons." His brow furrowed. "I do not believe I classify as such."

"Real cute. Now beat it."

"Beat it?" The android accessed his memory banks. "Beat the odds? Beat the clock? Beat--"

"Put a lid on it!" Jim's face continued to redden. "Scram."

"We have to test him," Lloyd argued.

"We've given the guy three separate tests already. No reaction. He couldn't be frightened, or even anxious, if his life depended on it. He's not a person; he's a thing. I don't test things. I test people. Now, I've had just about enough of this joke. Out!"

Data looked confused. "But it is imperative that I be--"

"He *is* a person, Jim. His transcripts state he's a sentient being."

The man's eyes bulged. "Weston's gone too far this time if he thinks I'm going to buy this gag. Sentient being, my ass. He's an android. A machine. I can't give this guy a personality analysis because he's got no personality."

"But, Jim, if we don't test him he can't--"

"I don't care. I have wasted all the time I intend to on this guy."

Data's head spun back and forth between the two men hovering over him. "If my performance has been unacceptable I will endeavor to improve."

"Would you listen to this guy?" Jim said. "Performance. Is that what this is to you, a performance? Let me tell you a thing or two. People don't come in here and perform. They react! Spontaneously. And do you know why they react?"

Data opened his mouth to speak.

"They react, because..." Jim continued.

Data shut his mouth.

"Because they feel. These cadets have been examined thoroughly by the top psychologists in Starfleet. We know just what makes them tick. When they get to us, we're ready for them. We don't fail. Do you understand me? We *don't* fail."

"But I have been examined, as well," Data responded softly.

"Yeah, tell me another one. Weston sent you in here, didn't he?"

"Actually, Professor Mandel has been in charge of my orientation since I entered the Academy."

Jim huffed. "Well, you can just hurry your little android butt back to Professor Mandel and tell her I said Weston's prank is finished."

"Jim." Lloyd laid a hand on the man's arm. "We can't send this guy out of here. I'm telling you, these records are legit. He has to be tested. He is a genuine cadet."

"He's a machine!"

"I am a machine," Data interrupted softly. "But I have been declared to be sentient."

The man burst into boisterous laughter. "They can declare me to be an elephant it they want to, but that won't make it so. Get lost, buddy."

Data began to rise then paused, uncertain. "I am to leave?"

"We can't send him out of here." Lloyd looked dismayed. "This guy's whole career is dependent upon this test."

Data's head whirled around to face him.

"He's a thing, and I say he goes," Jim said.

"I say he stays."

"Perhaps another test," Data began lamely.

"I have wasted all the time I'm going to," Jim thundered. "Out!"

"What will I put on these transcripts if you just throw him out of here?" Lloyd threw up his hands.

"We've tested him thoroughly and I'm qualified to say he's not sentient. He's a thing. So write it down and send him to Research and Development."

Data noted the sudden pallor of Lloyd's skin. "You can't mean that, Jim," the man argued. "I mean, what if this guy's really," he swallowed, "Alive? Your analysis carries a lot of weight. It might cause these people to reevaluate this guy's entire profile. He could end up stored in a closet somewhere."

"That's not my problem," Jim responded through clinched teeth. "I'm not about to lose any sleep over whether or not some robot is gathering dust in a warehouse."

Data's eyes widened at the word -robot.' "I am an android," he corrected gently. "Not a robot."

"Robot. Android. What's the difference?" Jim huffed. "Either gathers dust just as quickly."

"An android is constructed in the form of a human being. I was programmed to emulate human behavior and thought."

"As I said, what's the difference?" Jim stormed. "Robot. Android--"

"The difference is that I am not a robot," Data added hurriedly. "But an android."

Jim sniffed. "Semantics. Automation, robot, whatever you are, beat it."

Data felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He looked up into Lloyd's face. The human's eyes were locked on his colleague. "We can't send this guy out of here. For Pete's sake, he's sentient! What if they decided to deactivate him?"

Data blinked at the word -deactivate.'

"He's not sentient! He's a tool. A thing. A device--"

"I am not a device." Data's voice rose quietly above the tirade.

"He's a sophisticated bucket of bolts, a--"

"I am not a device." Data's voice rose a little louder.

"A newfangled gizmo. A mechanical thingamajig. A--"

"I am not a device!" Data's voice cut the discourse.

The room fell deathly quiet.

Two pairs of human eyes locked on him.

Data stiffened in the chair.

Jim's face darkened. "Give me one good reason, robot, why I shouldn't have you locked in a storage room somewhere."

The android swallowed. He looked uncertain.

"Well!"

"Because." The golden brow creased in thought. "Because--"

"He doesn't' have a reason," Jim snapped. Ushering Data to his feet, he pushed him toward the door. "He's a sophisticated answering machine that doesn't have an answer. Out!"

Data's perplexity grew to apprehension. He twisted free from the human's grasp. "But where will I go?"

"That's not my concern. My job is to test people, not things. And you're a thing. If the Academy begins graduating devices as officers, we'll all be laughed out of our positions. And I, for one, want tenure. Scram!"

Data stood immobile in the doorway. "You are suggesting that it is inappropriate for me to remain in Starfleet?" he said numbly.

The man shrugged. "I don't know. They're always looking for new gizmos in Research and Development. Ask those eggheads if they can use a newfangled automaton. For all I care, you can serve on every ship in the fleet. Maybe they can disassemble you and use your parts on every starship between here and the Romulan Neutral Zone. Just leave me out of it."

Data swallowed. "In such a condition it would be impossible for me to gather and assimilate new information. I would be useless. Such a state would be..." He turned his thoughts inward. "Boring." The word fell from his lips.

"Boring! Did you say boring?"

"Humdrum. Monotonous. Uninteresting--"

"*Boring?*"

"Unexciting."

"What does a device know about boring? You're a thing, fella. Give me one good reason why we shouldn't disassemble you."

"Because," Data's voice was barely audible. "I am alive."

"*What!*"

Opalescent, golden eyes met the man's stare levelly. "I am alive," he repeated clearly.

The man's mouth dropped. "Prove it."

Silence fell.

The android's head tilted slightly. "Curious. It would seem that I am unable to either prove or disprove the accuracy of my statement. I can only claim that my perceptions attest to the fact that I am, indeed, alive."

"Perceptions, Data?" The man's expression became clinical. "What perceptions?"

"I am cognizant of my own existence."

"So what?"

"I contain consciousness. To disassemble me would dissociate that consciousness from my being. I would cease to exist. Such an act would be tantamount to..." The android's thoughts turned inward, searching deeply for the source of his growing discomfort.

"Say it, Data," the man prompted faintly.

"Murder."

The word fell into the silence. Both instructors turned to stare intently into the android's face.

"And this bothers you?" Jim's face held contemplation.

The android hesitated. "Yes."

"You would argue for your right to exist?"

"Yes."

"As an autonomous entity?"

"Affirmative."

"You do not wish to die?"

"I am curious with respect to this state referred to as death, but I do not wish to die."

"And would you fight to retain your life?" Jim stepped near.

Data's contemplation deepened. "Fight?"

"If I were to attempt to disassemble you, would you defend your right to exist with physical force if need be? Would you harm me to retain your life?"

A frown creased the android's brow. His yellow eyes sought Lloyd's eyes, then returned again and searched Jim's. "I would not wish to harm a human being."

"Does one life, then, contain more value than another?"

"No. The value of all sentient life is equal. The concept of equality is fundamental to the precepts of Starfleet. The forceful taking of any such life, excluding self-defense, is wrong."

"Then, would you kill me, Data, to retain your life?"

The android's face registered his dilemma. He gave no response.

"In that case, you would allow me to disassemble you?" Removing a small, dark box from his pocket, he moved closer. "Is this correct?"

Data stepped back.

"Research and Development might not have constructed you, but they did come up with this little gadget. Do you realize that I could short circuit you with a simple flip of this switch?"

Data's eyes locked on the box.

"Would you kill me, Data, to prevent me from murdering you?" Jim continued to advance.

"If it were possible, I would incapacitate you without inflicting irreparable damage to your person."

"And if it were not possible?"

Data swallowed. The words came from his throat with an effort. "I would kill you."

Jim froze. "Really?"

"That is correct."

Silence oppressed the room.

Jim's eyes cut to his colleague standing in the corner, observing the exchange without comment. "What do you think, Lloyd?" he asked softly.

Lloyd pulled in his breath. "That's a hell of a convincing argument if I ever heard one. I say, he passed."

"Passed?" Data still retained his defensive stance in the doorway.

"You passed, kid." Jim leaned forward, slapping the bewildered android on the shoulder.

"Lloyd, are you finished with Data, yet?" A woman stuck her head through the door, drawing their attention. "We're expected down in two-ten."

"Sure thing, Professor Mandel. He's free to go."

The woman's eyes turned in the android's direction. "How'd you do?"

Data looked confused. "I am unsure. These gentlemen were forced to administer three separate tests. Each failed to render the appropriate results."

Mandel's pencil-thin eyebrows rose. "What's he talking about, Lloyd?"

A smile slowly spread across the man's face. He moved and stood next to Jim. "Data, there was only one test. And you did just fine," he explained gently.

"One? But you stated that there were three distinct tests."

Lloyd ignored the comment. "I've been concerned about his instinct for self-preservation. And, for course, his own greatest fear would be the loss of his autonomy. In his case, I can imagine such autonomy was more difficult to acquire than for the average individual. I would fight for it tooth and nail if it were me. But I was worried that your friend, here, would let it go without a fight." He gave the android's shoulder a pat. "I was wrong. Good show."

Data considered the man's words then brightened. "Ah, I see. Your assertion that I had failed was, in fact, the test. And the proceeding -tests' were merely adjuncts to the primary test. Most intriguing, I--"

"Data, we need to go." Mandel laid a hand on his arm. He turned and met her gaze. She gave him a slight smile. "You can talk with the professor later, if you wish."

"Professors," Data corrected gently, turning to the more boisterous Jim.

The larger, ruddy-faced man broke into a wide grin. "You're all right, kid." He pushed past him into the hall. "Professor," he laughed beneath his breath as he started to walk way.

"Hey, Jim," Lloyd called after him.

The man turned.

"You forgot this." He tossed a small black box through the air.

Jim caught it.

Data recognized the item as the -weapon' Jim said the Research department had developed.

"Thanks, Lloyd." He pocketed the item. "Without this pager, I'd be in deep trouble. I'd lose track of my custodian crews."

"Thanks for your help, Jim."

The large man burst into a grin. "That's *professor* Jim to you, Doc. See ya."

~*End