Diagnostics, Chess and Diagnostics

Posted on Sat Jun 15th, 2024 @ 7:53pm by LMH & Ensign Noah Balsam

Mission: Mean Green Queen
Location: Holo-Lab
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 1000

[Holo-Lab]
[1000 hours]
[Day 1]

Fingers drummed on the back of his PADD. It was a large engineering model, more robust than the standard. Down at it, Noah Balsam peered while he swiped fingers along the datastream. His first mission of the day had been an informal one in the Shuttlebay. There, Irynya had discovered some kind of replicator bypass which would pose a mystery for off-duty. But now it was time for Diagnostics. The young Ensign had quickly fallen into the portfolio of the Computer Core personnel's Diagnostician. And he was mostly fine with that in the longterm.

But he was excited for the big LCARS update later that afternoon. And his mind was pulled between the strange device Irynya had found, the piece of as-yet untouched technology he'd found at the Hukatuse Tagumik, and the pregnant hope of some real updates to the LCARS system.

"Index," Noah mumbled almost distractedly. The androgyne in unisex white clothing appeared a respectful few meters away. It stared at him, motionless for the moment, only blinking with an artificial regularity. But the ever-animated Noah turned his head to quickly smile his too-wide and bowed smile at her. "Morning Index. Cuh-can you please set the Holo-Lab to diagnostic mode?" Index fluttered her eyes and there was an audible chirp that the deed was done.

Noah's fingers set into motion on his PADD and requested the appearance of the Longterm Medical Hologram. While much of the crew simply "summoned him" like an old style LMH, Noah preferred to send a request- even if that request was largely a formality. The LMH was an aging piece of software not often found on Starfleet ships these days. There were no patches or updates. So Noah had, in a way, become the doctor to The Doctor.

"Computer, produce two comfortable wingback chairs and a table with a three-dimensional chu-chess set. Set the chairs to oppositional." The computer chimed and two medium-brown leather wingbacks appeared opposite a small table with a elfin-flowing glass sets of gradually smaller tiers. The squares were clear and frosted, as were the pieces. Now, Noah waited.

Though it wasn't a long wait it was, for all rights and purposes when technology typically responded near instantaneously, a real wait. The chess set and chairs, set in such a way as to give both the Academic appearance of thoughtfulness that chess often evoked and the comfort of an old study, were already in place before the LMH appeared bodily right next to Noah.

There was no sound at his arrival and, in the deep tenor voice that had once belonged to Simon Tarses, the LMH spoke and thus announced his presence. "Chess," he stated simply before a slight uncanny turn of his head to look at the ensign beside him. "You are aware that I am programmed with all of the knowledge needed to beat you in the shortest number of moves." The statement was not a rebuke nor was it teasing. It simply was true. A statement of fact.

This was, after all, not the first game of chess that the two had shared.

Noah's smile blossomed wide and a little bowed. "I know. I-I'm taking that into account." He brushed at the back of his head to ruffle his tresses. "M-maybe I'll surprise you. How-how are you LMH Mark VI?" Noah moved to stand next to the chair he'd imaged for himself. Waiting for the LMH had never bothered Balsam: perhaps his advocacy for infolife overshadowed Starfleet's penchant for proper orders of things and gave too much deference. But programmed or "learned" the Mark VI LMH had more knowledge and more experience than he. "Any headway on a name?"

That and he felt a sort of kinship with the LMH. He'd known Infolifes.

Moving with the economical and uncanny grace that can only be found in a holographic reproduction of humanoid movement, the LMH moved toward the wingback that was traditionally his. Even as he walked, though, he seemed to stumble, his step stuttering with an almost athletic kind of double step then righting itself. When he reached the chair he sat and looked at Noah with an almost catlike smugness on his face, waiting for his companion to comment on the stumble.

Rather than give an opportunity for Noah to speak, though, he answered the profered question of names. "I have considered 567,792 names since our last game and have discarded all but three of those for testing. T'wroth..." The first name, sounding almost like a combination of Klingon and Vulcan was at least easy to distinguish as a name. The second was a series of clicks and throat noises that lasted for nearly 4 seconds, an inordinate amount of time for anyone to deliver a name. Despite the familiarity of the Xindi insectoid dialect the universal translator did not provide the LMH's response in a form that Noah would be able to reproduce. "... and Peter," the LMH concluded.

Noah blinked. And blinked again before his eyebrow rose. "That...uh..." He squinted, chin tilted, "That miiiight be hard for p-people to say if they need to request your assistance. Eh-especially.. well... um." he shrugged off that thought. "Was that...." Noah pursed his lips, "Jarada?" Noah settled back in the chair and crossed his knees. "Wh-when I was in second form, I tried to convince everyone my name was," and he made a popping, knocking sound with his tongue against his teeth. He shrugged, "Anyway. I like Peter. Do you want to move first?" Noah took up his PADD again and struck several keys deftly.

"Do you like baggy, tapered, slim or tailored cuts?"

There was only the most miniscule of pauses and then the LMH selected a pawn and moved it forward. As he did so his head inclined slightly toward Noah in the approximation of a listening posture. Once the pawn was in place his hands returned to his lap and he sat, somewhat stiffly, on the chair. "This is another question of preference. There are various reasons for a person to choose the cut of their attire. Starfleet uniforms, however, are tailored and is that not the attire in which I will be seen when called upon?" And indeed, the LMH was wearing an unranked medical uniform in the previously standard issue style tailored to the dimensions of its original model.

His head turned and he looked to Noah then back at the game, the move evoking the tiniest feeling of uncanny valley. "It was not Jarada," he said then, answering Noah's earlier question. "The language was Nama, an old Earth language from the African subcontinent. It didn't have exactly the words I wanted to describe myself so I adjusted some to more accurately depict myself."

"Mmm, well," Noah disagreed gently. "Officers have some uh, l-leeway with fits. Like there is a one piece jumpsuit..." He shrugged, "N-not going to lie, it might be my favorite. I like the pockets. Two piece standard. And-and the skant." His brows rose and he smiled wide, "For-for people with nice legs, not my chicken legs." He waved that idea off. It wasn't practical to go crawling through Jeffries' in a Skant. "I-I'm asking because I can add a Doctor's Coat to your matrix. Or scrubs. And-and if you need some moving room in your uniform I can make that."

Noah raised his finger, "Buh-but, I do need to update your uniform. We-we just had a uniform change." His eyebrows rose as his fingers circled his PADD, "The neck is w-way better. Anyway." Noah blinked at the Infolife, "Personally I-I think you'd look very professional in a Doctor's coat..."

Inclining his head again, this time in more of a thinking posture, the LMH considered the idea--or at least gave the appearance of doing so considering the speed at which he could evaluate all of the options. "I see," he said finally and then added, "I believe that was a compliment so thanks are also in order. Thank you." The Infolife's lips turned upward in a small smile, appreciative in its nature. "I believe having the full range of appropriate doctor's accoutrements would be desirable," he commented. "It is important not only to be competent but to appear competent so as to alleviate any concerns patients may have. Wearing the appropriate attire as dictated by the moment seems like a natural way to ensure patients feel confident in my abilities."

His smile turned thoughtful then. "It does seem like an odd thing for patients to question. I am a hologram and programmed with as many medical procedures and practices as any of our crew, including those of mixed genetics and less common background, could desire. Take for example Captain Kodak..."

Whether it was a glance from Noah or simply the LMH's programming reminding him that medical details about crew are private, he paused mid sentence, seeming to realize that he was rambling. "My apologies Ensign," the LMH continued. "I seem to have... gone down a rabbit hole."

Noah pursed his lips at that, his eyebrows popping, "That's not something a s-simple construct of light would do." He smiled in a sort of winning amusement at that. "Maybe you're finally using that breathing room to expand your program." His fingers had been moving along his PADD and with a final strike the LMH phased from top to bottom for a moment. He was now clad in a modern uniform with blue shoulders which were under a classic white doctor's lab coat. "Also, it m-makes you stand out as the one to go to in a crisis. Just look for the coat." Noah smiled.

"I-I imagine the Captain has some different biology. I mean I can design a system to-to change its shape and appearance. I-I wouldn't even know where to start to make cells do that." His eyes widened, "Especially all of a body's cells. There's nothing like it in Human biology. But from what I heard-" he scrunched his face- "He's not like a Founder Changeling either." In the background Noah had begun to upgrade the LMH's system to accept the newer and sometimes conflicting aspects of the LCARS update.

"Oh, no, Chameloid biology is actually quite different from the Founders," the LMH commented with surprising enthusiasm that bordered on intensity before pausing. "Did that sound right?" he asked. "The level of appreciation for the subject I mean. I have been practicing with some of the emotional inputs and understand that many species respond well to a change in tone related to a subject that the speaker enjoys or is particularly versed in. Naturally I am versed in medical information more than others so it seemed an ideal place to practice."

"Yeah-yeah, I..." Noah tilted his head to think as his mouth had begun without him. "That sounds true. It sounded fine to me." He pursed his lips. It seemed the LMH was attempted a definitive tone, like he was sure. "I mean I b-believed your expertise so-so mission accomplished."

"Ah," the Infolife responded, "Well, the differences between Chameloids and the Founders are of demonstrated empirical interest. Lieutenant Ryan-Walsh was intending to publish quite extensively on the topic and Starfleet Medical has expressed a particular desire to better understand the Chameloid genetic makeup."

"I know, when I was doing my uh, well cadet time in the transporters, that we can scan for Changeling mutagenic DNA strands in the pattern buffer. So if a Changeling tries to board our ships by transporter, we'll know. It's something a-about that they can't hold their fake shape in the stasis state of a transporter. Now we can detect that." He shrugged, "Tuh-too bad we got the technology like a decade after the Dominion War huh?"

"I suppose that is true," the LMH replied, the comment delivered not in any kind of thoughtful or considering manner, but rather as if he was merely agreeing with fact. War and discussion of the benefits or drawbacks of technologies that might aid in it, were still beyond the realm of his current programming.

Noah glanced at the board. "Your turn." He sat back. His eyes narrowed. "Wait Lieutenant Walsh like... our..." Noah blinked. Slightly hard memory there. "Walsh? He left a few months ago?"

Without taking much time to look the Infolife moved a second pawn into place, seeming not to consider at all the opening move Noah had made. "Yes," he commented in simple answer to Noah's question. "Although I suppose you could be referring to his parents as both are medical professionals as well, but they do not practice within Starfleet Medical and as Lieutenant Ryan-Walsh had first hand knowledge, he is the most logical choice to publish on the topic." The LMH paused ever so slightly--just more than a breath--before continuing. "That was, I believe, the source of his reassignment. Did you know him well?"

Noah stiffened some at the confirmation. He blinked. "Um. He was my roommate's... friend... and I just called him Kennedy. We were friends. I shared rooms... uh with him. Before Margarar. I thought." Noah shrugged, "He left so fast when he got the assignment, I-I didn't get to ask him. It was almost literally I left for my shift and when I got back, the stewards were taking his stuff out of the CMO's quarters." Noah's eyes skirted the game. He moved his piece to challenge the LMH's first pawn, while leaving his own pawn as the retaliatory strike. An eye for an eye take.

"Ah-anyway... now you have me wondering... about the Dominion I mean. Not Kennedy..." Noah settled back with distraction. His brows were knitted. "I-I guess I don't like that he didn't really patch things up for Irynya. I-I mean I know she's Risian and they have whole rituals for... um... relationships ending and stuff. Still. It kind of landed on me and some of Iry's friends to help pick up the pieces."

As if on cue, the LMH took Noah's reciprocal pawn and placed it next to the board before folding his hands neatly in his lap. He looked at Noah for a moment as if doing so might clarify something for him. "I recall that he and Lieutenant Irynya were in a romantic relationship," he said more confirmation than commentary. "But I am unfamiliar with Risian relationship practices. From the perspective of emotional support and the Lieutenant's mental health, though, it is likely a good thing that you and the other friends were available to support her."

Noah in turn swiped the LMH's pawn, returning them to a state of equilibrium. "Yeah," was Noah simplistic and flat-intoned reply. "Hmm, you could ask her on her next physical. If Dr. Wang doesn't do it. They're interesting."

A shrug rippled across the LMH's shoulders, but the timing was off and it seemed he knew it because he correctly wrinkled his nose in consternation. Whether it was some well programmed sense of Noah's discomfiture at the subject or something else, the LMH seemed happy to change the subject. "May I inquire what it is about the Dominion that you are wondering?"

Noah was grateful for the shift in conversation. Something about how his friend had left touched something unexpectedly raw and still healing. "Oh uh. What're they doing over there. On the other side of the wormhole." He paused for a few moments. "I know it was before my time. The whole thing was. Still... they're supposedly way way more powerful than the Federation... they killed something like 850 million Cardassians. Are they and the Breen still allies?"

The LMH studied the board, seeming to consider his next move and, after a moment, shifted another pawn, this at the edge of the board, forward from its starting position. "That is difficult to say," he commented as he moved, looking up once he had removed his hand from the pawn. "I suppose it is possible that Starfleet Intelligence has some sort of knowledge. Likely, in fact. Do you fear a return of their forces?" The question, asked with such nonjudgmental--almost innocent--tones would have seemed deceptive on anyone else. On the LMH it was as innocent as it seemed. He merely wanted to know the answer.

Noah pondered both that and his next move, falling silent with a pensive expression. He tapped one of his fingers upon his folded hands. "Hmm." He uttered to fill space. He lurched forward and freed his queen's knight, ready to threaten the LMH's new pawn advance.

"Not... really? I'm more afraid of something like, uh, the Breen." his eyebrows popped while he sat back, "See... um.... i-it's kind of strange. It seems like Starfleet can't get back into exploring as its main mission. But at the same time, nothing's really threatening us right now? The Borg are..." he shrugged, his mind flashing to the piece of technology still sitting on his desk, "At least s-so messed up that they aren't an issue... Romulans aren't what they were when I was a kid." He frowned at that. "Klingons... still sort of our allies?" He tilted his head with an eye squint. "Cardassians... not what they were." He tilted his head, "The Tholians helped us stabilize the wormhole. So..." He shrugged.

"Ah," the LMH vocalized, electing to free his queen's night as well in a speedy reply to the ensign. "I suppose after any conflict there is a generation... perhaps generations... of peoples who remember it and who are overly cautious. Numerous other conflicts reflect something like this. It is almost as if we get so used to a threat that we have trouble believing there is none when it is removed." At the first use of the word we the LMH's eyebrows popped up ever so slightly. Of course he did not count himself amongst the statement he just made. His programming was such that fear and the type of illogical desire for a boogie man made no sense. At best an attempt to display it would be a parody. Still....

"Did I do that right?" he inquired, a curious inflection to his tone. "The use of we, I mean. To described shared experience and mutual connection?"

"Yes," Noah confirmed. "You did it right." Or at least he thought the LMH had tried well.

"There-there's an old saying. At least for Humans. We have paleolithic instincts and god-like technology." He grimaced at that and shook his head while he leaned over to move his next piece. "Even living post-scarcity on some of our planets still isn't enough to, uh, overcome those instincts. Things like..." He pondered while he sat back. He toppled his hands one over the other, "The Uncanny Valley. Which's been the biggest hurdle for us Humans coming into the galactic community. Its something we can learn to know doesn't always apply. Buh-but the instinct is still there. At least at first."

Noah's nose wrinkled, "I-I guess an instinct of fear is better than some other instincts. The Klingon reaction to the Uncanny Valley is usually to destroy it or suh-subjugate it. I guess we can't all be Vulcans. They acknowledge the uncanny valley and analyze if its the right, uh," he shrugged and blinked, "Uh response." He shrugged again. "Anyway. So what else have you been practicing?"

For a moment it looked as if the LMH might follow Noah's prompted change of topic. This was, after all, how he had been programmed. He could hold a conversation well, but it was the moments where he didn't follow the expected, most comforting, pattern of conversation that glimpses beyond the ceiling of his programming were found. "Do you believe the crew has any difficulty working with me because of the... Uncanny Valley?" he asked.

Noah pursed his lips at that. It was that conflict between an uncomfortable truth and sparing feelings. The LMH didn't have emotions- yet- in Noah's assessment. "Well tha-that's why we do things like this. It's why I try to encourage you to interact with the crew more. And-and choose a name. Do I think some people are afraid of technology?" He shrugged uncomfortably, blinking his eyes. "Yes. They-they are. Some are. Technophobia doesn't go away very easily. Humans get locked in what wha-what they're comfortable with by middle age... and it gets harder for them. I mean," Noah screwed up his face in a half-face half-wince, "It's not just Humans. Vulcan logic gets more rigid. Uh, for example."

Noah leaned forward and moved. "So... I guess... I'm saying... the more you can grow into your new parameters and experience what people experience the less alien you will seem." Noah's eyebrows rose a moment, as he thought something that was- at least to him- quite profound, "Not only biologics can be technophobic. Photonics who want to stay behind the safe walls of their core programming aren't learning and adapting to new technology, either."

This seemed to make the LMH pause and consider. "Photonics?" he inquired. "Are you referring to the life forms that visited our ship previously or is there another form of photonic life that I am not yet aware of?" The concept of not being aware of something that the ship and its crew might encounter seemed to delight the LMH and he sat forward, clasping his hands with enthusiasm and fixing Noah with a penetrating look as if his next words were the single most interesting utterances in the galaxy.

Noah blossomed his smile, "I'm-I'm referring to you, Doctor," he said. "But maybe them too. They-they didn't stay around long enough for us to find out." Noah smiled again, "I am biological life, you are photonic life. We're both still life."

"Ah," the LMH responded, drawing out the sound in a very well managed mimicry of elucidation as he sat back again and considered the board. His movement was measured as he took up a knight and moved it ahead, eyes scanning the board once again before he finally removed his hand from the piece. There was a pregnant pause as he made his move almost suggesting that the lifeform would have more to say on the matter, but at the last moment his demeanor changed once again. "I have been practicing several types of music as well as poetry from a number of the races aboard the Sojourner. Food, as well, though, I have struggled to understand the concept of food as more than sustenance. It makes sense from within the bounds of physical necessity, but..." here he added a well placed shrug.

Noah twisted his mouth at that. "Well, um, you're not alone. In my xenoculture survey class they talked about some species just see food as fuel. Or food is something to be done in private." Noah winced some at that as he remembered a little admonishment from his mother because he'd gotten only an average grade in that class. Noah had discovered advanced holographic environment geometry at the same time and he'd maybe not put his resources toward his official school work then. "I guess for me?" Noah thought. "It's... sometimes just fuel." His eyebrows rose, "I mean sometimes I forget to eat or sleep or... pee..." He chortled some and looked off.

"But... I'll try to explain this in an infolife context. You know you appreciate a well-executed subroutine or data search with a short lag time? And when your diligence of making those subroutines work correctly pays off? Food gives at least us Humans that same feeling of satisfaction. That is a form of pleasure. Its..um sort of like a reward response," Noah tried to explain.

"Pleasure," the LMH mused, more to himself than anything else. "This, too, has been... difficult. But I do think I take your meaning. There is... appreciation... for when something goes well. Like... a signal that this pathway is right and improved upon the others. But that is... optimization. It serves a purpose to improve my function. It isn't simply for the sake of executing a subroutine well and if my research has been accurate then it seems humans sometimes choose food for the sake of food. Even when food is actually counter to their needs." Seeming to realize he had been rambling, the infolife paused, eyes on Noah in an almost unnerving way. "I cannot seem to replicate this experience."

Noah tilted his head with the squint of one eye: he was thinking. "Pleasure is the, um, optimal emotion. To a lot of us biologics. It's the emotion we most want." He blinked. "Maybe most need." Noah pushed back into the soft leathery confines of his chair. "Time with our friends... time with our hobbies... um." He blinked again, widened his eyes and chuckled, "Uh... se-sexual pleasure. Intimacy. Touch." His eyes skirted past the LMH and then back, "But food... and good sleep... they bring pleasure too. Helping others can. Without pleasure, most biologics don't feel optimal. They improve our function." Noah nodded, "So y-yeah. We sometimes choose food or friends or make our decisions, um, well, counter to maybe what is nutritional or smart or logical because they feel good."

Noah nodded slowly. "Your-your core architecture is built around different pathways. So what brings you pleasure is uh probably different than what biological pathways do. So we build on that. But like the rest of us, we have to learn what feels good and what doesn't. And-and we do that with experimenting. And thinking..." He cocked a shy grin, "Or well, um, maybe not thinking just acting... about it." Noah knitted his brows. "And-and what brings some of us pleasure doesn't others. Like..." he shrugged, "I like painting models. And um..." Noah squinted an eye again, "Cuddling with my friend. And designing holograms. But Chief Basheer likes playing Velocity and he likes praying to Mecca." Noah bobbed his head, "Puh-plus I'm pretty sure he's dating a Yeoman. Now, I don't like Velocity. I, uh," he grimaced wide, "Um, suck at it. But I get pleasure, uh, sort of, by if Basheer maybe chooses me to be on his team. Because I'm helping him out and it makes me feel like I'm accepted."

The look on the LMH's face was best described as blank. Not a blankness of not understanding, but more a pause in emoting as if his program was buffering. In reality the connections necessary to respond to Noah's description were vast with the Sojourner's entire database available to him to provide context. Though the moment was brief it was still notable -- a greater shift into the uncanny valley -- until the LMH seemed to unfreeze, remembering that biologic movements and breathing and other things that mimicked their actions helped them to interact with him.

"I..." he began slowly as if formulating the thought even as he spoke it, "enjoy puzzles. Logic. Symmetry. Succeeding in my programming. Learning. And our discussions." The list was offered without a great deal of emotional inflection--the LMH wasn't attempting to practice it's humannness. Instead it was delivered as a simple statement of fact. "What," he asked, "should I try next?"

"Well. Um...." That was an open ended question. And one that Noah only had limited experience in himself. He wasn't the most social butterfly on the ship. But socialization seemed to be what the LMH needed. "There's a puzzle club," Noah suggested. He peaked his brows, "Uh, jigsaw puzzles I think mostly, but they might play things like Kal-toh. Why don't you um try and join a club that meets your interests? And make some friends?" He winced an eye, "Just don't use all the ship's resources to solve the puzzles all at once. You want to um make friends, not beat everyone in naught point five seconds."

If it was possible the LMH's expression turned sly and then, with a flourish he moved back to the board, shifting his queen forward. He held his pointer finger on the top of the game piece, looking across the board at Noah. "Do you mean like this?" He asked, and the tone he used was almost impish. "Your next move will either be..." With an almost alarming speed he rattled off the next four moves between them ending with, "And that will be check and mate." Somehow, even though it had surely to have been programmed, the LMH looked smug.

Noah blinked and grimaced. Yes he too mapped his four ways out of this likely checkmate. He considered throwing the LMH a curve- a bold move to endanger the LMHs king as well. But that would just prolong the inevitable. He smiled agreeably and reached across the table, "G-good game." He said.

"I will endeavor not to draw on the full resources of the ship to beat my opponents in the future," the LMH said evenly, still smiling slightly. "Have you acquired the data you hoped or should I reset the board?"

"Oh r-right. Lets see." Noah bent over the arm of his chair and retrieved his PADD. "You are all updated, upgraded and patched. I'll just do a-a quick Level Five..." Noah bit his lip corner and stroked across his PADDs surface with a sweeping finger. "And you-you pass. Congratulations." he smiled again, "You have a clean bill of health."

The LMH smiled beatifically at the ensign across from him. "Thank you doctor," he said, his tone lacked with the necessary tonality to indicate humor. "Same time next month?"

Noah crinkled his wide smile with its dimples. He nodded, "If-if I don't see you before then. Yes."

A Post By:

Ensign Noah Balsam
Systems Specialist

LMH
Longterm Emergency Medical Hologram