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case. It's the multi verse that's coming to an end.." and as such, it
would make sense that we might run into manifestations from other
dimensions."
"So he..." Picard involuntarily glanced upward, assuming that the
dreaded specter of his past was still prowling about on the roof of the
car, "is from another dimension.." a parallel universe.." where I was
never rescued.." where I continue to be Locutus?"
At that moment the whistle screeched and the train lurched forward.
Picard spotted a Vulcan standing stoically in the corner. If one is
looking for sound, logical thinking, a Vulcan is a good individual to
go to. I must admit that even we Q find the Vulcans among the more
impressive of races. Not on our level, of course. But of all the
races I've encountered in my time, they certainly have the greatest
potential not to make complete idiots of themselves.
The Vulcan was of medium age, his temples slightly graying. He
appeared to be meditating. "Excuse me! Sir! You there!" Picard
said. "Do you know where we are? Where we're going?"
He looked at Picard with quiet assessment, and then said,
"We are not going anywhere."
"I beg your pardon?"
"We are in a circumstance that is clearly impossible," the Vulcan
continued. "On the surface of it, we have been pulled from our homes,
our lives, our livelihoods to this unknown place and crammed into a
strange conveyance for no discernible reason. That cannot be. Such
things simply do not happen. It is not logical."
"Yes, but.." that is what's happening," Picard replied gently, feeling
he needed to bring the Vulcan up to speed.
The Vulcan shook his head, looking ever so slightly amused. "That is
circular reasoning, sir. The fact is that such things do not happen;
therefore, this cannot be happening either."
Data, naturally, had to stick his golden nose into it. "That is also
circular reasoning."
"Perhaps. But it is logical. The notion, however, that what I am
currently experiencing has a basis in reality, is absurd at its core.
It is far more reasonable to assume that this is a hallucination of
some sort, or a dream. Perhaps a mind-meld gone wrong, or an illness
which has befallen me that I do not comprehend. The simplest
explanation is generally the correct one."
"Occam's Razor," said Data.
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "Sutak's Fifth Principle."
"Beethoven's Ninth," I chimed in, but no one found it amusing.
"It would appear that great minds think alike," Data observed. He was
looking at the Vulcan instead of me when he said this.." the little as
swipe
things to attend to," I said. "My family isn't in this boxcar, so
there's no reason for us to remain."
But Picard didn't seem quite so sanguine about leaving. He had decided
to make it his personal challenge to convince everyone to attend to the
situation. So, he assumed his "soapbox" voice and called out, "All of
you.." listen to me! You do not have to submit to this! We can
commandeer the train! We can mobilize, we can defeat this thing, we
can..."
"What are you saying?I?" someone screamed. "Nothing is wrong."
"Nothing is wrong? You've given over control of your lives to unknown
oppressors who are shipping you to a place you don't know, for reasons
that are equally murky. How can you say nothing is wrong?"
"There is no problem. Nothing is wrong. Everything is going to be
fine."
Similar sentiments were expressed throughout the car. "It's fine.
There's nothing wrong. Don't make trouble!"
To his credit, Picard continued the argument. "Listen to me!" he
said. "This is a fact: as incredible as it may sound, some force, some
entity is threatening the very fabric of the universe! We are, all of
us, being subjected to an ordeal, the reasons for which we cannot
comprehend. The only thing we can do is to rise against it and let
whoever, or whatever, is behind this know that we will not tolerate it!
That we are not cattle to be pushed and prodded about. We are people!
Sentient beings with a right to control our own destinies! Now who is
with me?"
I had to admit, it was a most stellar performance, and under ordinary
circumstances, such rhetoric would have been sufficient to get even the
most recalcitrant of individuals to bellow, "We're with you, Picard,
and we will follow you into the very jaws of hell!"
Instead, the only response he got was blank stares and confused looks.
And then the Vulcan, with the air of authority that only Vulcans can
lend to a pronouncement, said, "There is nothing wrong. None of
this.." is happening." If Mary Baker Eddy had heard him, she would
have risen from the grave and kissed that Vulcan on the lips.
"Why are you denying the obvious?" Picard shot back. "The senses can
be deceived.." can they not?" said the Vulcan, and he looked me
square in the eye. I was taken aback. I wasn't entirely sure why the
Vulcan should be addressing me so specifically. After all, a little
while earlier I had been musing on the very subject of how
untrustworthy one's senses could be, particularly in a situation as
totally alien as this one. I was beginning to feel that everybody was
picking on me.
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