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Metamorphosis
Metamorphosis
Metamorphosis
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Metamorphosis

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

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Unexplained gravitational disturbances summon Captain Picard and the Starship EnterpriseTM to the planet Elysia, and the android Lieutenant Commander Data to a date with destiny. For on this alien world, he is drawn into an impossible quest, leading him to consequences both heartwarming and disastrous, as he finally dares to pursue his fondest desire: to become human.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 22, 2000
ISBN9780743420594
Metamorphosis
Author

Jean Lorrah

Jean Lorrah is a science fiction and fantasy author. She has produced several Star Trek novels and often collaborated with Jacqueline Lichtenberg. Several of her books include The IDIC Epidemic?, Sime Gen, and The Savage Empire series. 

Read more from Jean Lorrah

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Rating: 3.8935493765490943 out of 5 stars
4/5

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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This was a dark little fable. The genius of the author is to totally leave it to the reader as to whether Gregor has become a vile animal or is suffering mentally and as a consequence is shunned by his family. The tale has its funny moments, but its overall a dark story.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Metamorphosis is an intriguing book, in a way it seems to be about Kafka's life, like George Samsa, he was unable to run away from the room he was trapped within, that room being circumstances & depression. Yet at the same time, the book is also about isolation and society. It takes place in an undated time and an unspecified place with the vast majority of the story taking place in the Samsa apartment. It's well worth reading.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Having not read this since college, I found it much more meaningful this time around. Whatever Kafka's intent, I found the tale to be symbolic of the family dynamic when a once integral part of the family becomes helpless or worthless through illness, dishonor, etc. The death of Gregor restored life to the family.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    My rating: 4.5 of 5 starsSource: BBC Radio 4 Extra'I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.'Imagine you go to bed one night with nothing out of the ordinary occurring only to wake up to find you have transformed into a monstrous insect overnight. Your family can no longer communicate with you, they no longer can even stand to look at you. You've become repulsive and abhorrent for seemingly no apparent reason. What do you do?Everyone has heard of The Metamorphosis, Kafka's literary masterpiece, a book that is obviously more than meets the eye. The story possessed a dream-like quality where nothing is ever considered appropriately, as Gregor accepted his transformation into insect form a lot more readily than one might normally. Many have attempted to form their own interpretations of the story but I personally can't see it being anything other than a metaphor. While there are bound to be several different opinions on this, this is what I came up with:Up until that life altering morning Gregor led an uneventful life where he worked constantly to support his family and in turn they steadily grew unproductive the more they began to depend on him. Gregor travels so often for work that communication between him and his family begins to cease and most importantly his family stops being appreciative of all he does for them and instead begins to simply expect it. That fateful morning he woke and began to contemplate his job and how terrible he finds it and if he didn't have his parents to worry about he would have "given in my notice a long time ago, I'd have gone up to the boss and told him just what I think, tell him everything I would, let him know just what I feel." The more and more he dwells on this the more he realizes what he does for them, what they don't do and how his work ethic in order to support his family has in turn alienated them from him. By becoming the sole breadwinner of the family he transformed himself into an outsider, the transformation only becoming a physical interpretation when he realizes that himself.I've never read Kafka before having always found myself intimidated by his works. When I discovered that the BBC Radio had produced a recording of this being read by Benedict Cumberbatch I jumped on the opportunity and I am so glad I did. I had listened to a clip of the audiobook that was released by Blackstone Audio and narrated by Ralph Cosham... that audiobook sat on my phone for so long I forgot about it because it sounded dreadfully dull. Benedict Cumberbatch truly brought this story to life and made this a real treat for me.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I came across this book by accident, having learned that it was considered classic, and having missed it during my schooling days, and on whim finding it free on Project Gutenberg, and realizing that it's small story worth reading in few sittings.Opening premise in first line sends a shock wave. It's strange, mildly amusing, and not yet clear where the story will go. However, story is captivating from get-go. For once, this classic lives up to its such designation. For another, despite my surprise at myself, I wasn't bothered about reason of this metamorphosis nor did absence of that took anything away from the story. Usually, ridiculous hypothetical premise of story which is not resolved till end is buzz-kill for me, but Kafka's work transcends that feeling, perhaps by not pretending to be anywhere close to science fiction and by tugging heart at right places. It is science fiction in its premise, but it is not, otherwise.Of course, somethings in story bother you. I am amazed that rest of world wasn't throbbing Samsas' house to see the transformation, and that they could keep it as mildly horrifying novelty, despite their maid, Gregor's senior clerk, and their tenants having observed themselves. How could neighbors, police, scientists, and crowd be kept at abeyance from such rare happenstance? Another convenient coincidence was Gregor's end, brought out without much premonition.What's most amazing is that while story isn't really fast paced, it just seems to keep you on hook. Story from perspective of vermin, of course, helps a lot. Challenges of adjusting to new life, phases of grief displayed by family in handling him, poignancy of whole situation tugs your heart and brought tear drops in my eyes near the end. I am tempted to be angry at his family, but I cannot be seeing what they did under such extraordinary circumstances. I cannot be unsympathetic to Gregor though, for he is such a gentle soul, struggling himself yet always keeping his virtues and noble character to guide his actions.It's simple story, with multiple interpretations, all likely wrong, but which will keep you haunting long after you have read it.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    This is a hard book to nail down. That despite the fact that the basic (infamous) premise is revealed in the first sentence. It was about all I knew about Kafka or The Metamorphosis when I started the book--that the "hero" wakes up as a cockroach: As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. He was lying on his hard, as it were armor-plated, back and when he lifted his head a little he could see his domelike brown belly divided into stiff arched segments on top of which the bed quilt could hardly stay in place and was about to slide off completely. His numerous legs, which were pitifully thin compared to the rest of his bulk, waved helplessly before his eyes.I'd read this work published in 1915 was a seminal work of the early 20th century. I'd read it was important to the Existentialist movement, surreal and absurdest and despairing. So what surprised me about this short novella--it's only about 22 thousand words--is how funny it is. I just found this all pretty hilarious. Is that bad, and wrong? It has been described as horror--but I mean, just the way Kafka describes poor Gregor trying to get around on his little legs--or trying to squeak out explanations to his supervisor or his family... I found nothing very heavy in this--or anything all that philosophical--at least not in any ponderous or pedantic way. It felt more light humor than anything--and really, an engaging introduction for me to this writer who'd I'd definitely read again.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Project Gutenberg ebook
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A perennial favorite. Frustrating, sad, and fascinating. It begs to be dissected and analyzed, while at the same time, it just needs to be accepted as is.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    "Die Verwandlung" ist wohl eines der meistinterpretierten Bücher im deutschsprachigen, als auch im englischsprachigen Schulwesen. Hier entführt uns Kafka in eine Geschichte, in der der Handelsreisende Gregor Samsa, der alleine für seine Familie sorgen muss, sich plötzlich in einen Riesenkäfer verwandelt, sodass die Familie auf sich selbst gestellt ist. Von allen Interpretationen gefällt mir immer noch die am besten, dass sich Gregors "Inneres" nach "außen" gekehrt habe. Kafka hat gerne lange Sätze geschrieben, sodass es für ungeübte Leser am Anfang schwierig erscheint, der Geschichte zu folgen. Man kann über "Die Verwandlung" denken, was man möchte, aber diese Geschichte lässt einem aufgrund ihrer Surrealität äußerst viel Raum für Interpretationen und das allein zeugt von einer gewissen Qualität.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    When Gregor Samsa woke one morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a monstrous insect.This is one of the most famous opening lines in literature, and the general concept of The Metamorphosis, which hovers on the borderline of being a short story or a novella, is one of literature’s most famous and fascinating stories. No explanation is given for Gregor Samsa’s terrible fate; he and his family must simply endure it. Almost the entire novella takes place within the Samsa family’s apartment, and over a mere 61 pages Kafka develops an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia, alienation and sheer misery at the unjustness of the world.This is a book many students are forced to read in high school, probably because of its short length, like The Great Gatsby, with no consideration for the fact that high school students probably aren’t yet equipped to appreciate the themes it explores (again like The Great Gatsby). There are dozens if not hundreds of scholarly interpretations as to what The Metamorphosis is allegorising; mental illness and depression are popular ideas. If I had to throw my hat into the ring I’d suggest it’s about the struggles of adulthood, the sometimes crushing sense of responsibility, the loss of innocence; much is made of the fact that Gregor, in his early twenties, has been working as a salesman to support his recently impoverished family, and following his transformation his inability to work and provide for them leaves him with a terrible sense of guilt. On the very morning of the metamorphosis the head clerk arrives from his office, demanding to know why he has not turned up for work, and it’s almost a scene of black comedy as Gregor attempts to leave the bed and open the door, to reassure his superior that he is fit and able and enthusiastic. The fact that he has turned into a monster is of secondary concern to his job security.This particular edition has a couple of Kafka’s other short stories at the back, presumably because the publisher wanted to pad the length out. None of them struck me as particularly memorable. The Metamorphosis, on the other hand, deserves its status as a literary classic – an enduring symbol of alienation in human society.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    At first, I can't bear reading this book. It was about a person who turned into a bug. It was disgusting. I hate bugs. But towards the middle and end part you begin to feel sympathy for Gregor. Who wants to be a bug? It was something he did not choose. i just felt bad for him and how his family treated him. It actually made me cry in the end. This one classic book everyone should read.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I’ve spent the last couple of years catching up on famous pieces of literature that, for whatever reason, I never got around to before, especially those that are ubiquitous cultural touchstones. A lifetime of making casual references to Sherlock Holmes, Jekyll and Hyde, The Last of the Mohicans, and so forth, without actually having read the works in question, always left me feeling like a bit of a poser each time I caught myself doing so. And for some reason, that guilty feeling was never stronger than when I would refer to something as "Kafka-esque," knowing I had never read any Kafka. It made me feel like such a huge poser that I actually crossed over into being a poseur, which, as everyone knows, is far worse.

    So I finally sat down to read Kafka’s most famous work, the short novel Metamorphosis, and it’s everything I had ever meant to express by invoking the man's name: absurd, dark, grotesque, and humorous only in the blackest possible sense of the word.

    I was, of course, already familiar with the very famous first line of the book, translated in my edition as, "One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin." I think I had imagined, before reading, that the book would jump from that absurd beginning immediately in some other direction, but it doesn’t. It’s a good 10% of the way into the book (I read it on the Kindle; no page numbers) before Brundle-fly - sorry, Gregor-roach - even manages to flip over and get out of his bed, and it sets the tone for the rest of the book: unflinching, matter-of-fact in its depiction of surreal things, and compulsively readable at the same time that it’s psychologically uncomfortable and viscerally repelling.

    I won’t spoil the ending for anyone reading this who is as big a poseur as I was, but I will say this: if Dan Savage woke from troubled dreams one morning to find himself transformed in his bed into Franz Kafka, he’d have started a viral video campaign called "It Gets Worse."
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Such a weird story. It's completely unclear, he's changed into another creature and he's still absorbed in his day to day.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    One of the most famous opening lines in literature: "As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect." Well, this will certainly be a day unlike all others.A classic work of expressionism. A metaphor for what happens to an individual when he lives a life he loathes, for extreme alienation and rebellion. What the reader brings to the text will inform his or her interpretation, and that makes the work all the more extraordinary.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    We have all been up stuck up on the ceiling and had an apple lodged in our back. Kafka writes one of the most important stories ever written.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Gregor Samsa lives with his parents and younger sister and lives a perfectly normal life until one morning when he wakes up and finds he is now a human-sized roach. The story is an examination of how a family might react to such an event and how one might feel if this happened to him. I loved trying to imagine life as a roach.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    perfect read for late at night creepy and a great allegory for those in 12-step recovery (AA, NA, Alanon, etc.).
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I've had nightmares because of work, but I''ve never had Gregor's out of body exxperience where he wakes up one morning and finds that he's become a giant beetle. Kafka's surreal novel - perhaps the first to employ magical realism - .is a tour du force. Gregor, who has been supporting his family (why is left unclear), now must remain locked in his room because his appearance is too unsettling to everyone. Faced with the necessity of survival, his parents and sister now find employment and gradually become more self-suffcient. As this happens, Gregor finds his life draining away. When he finally dies, his family becomes fully actualized.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    This has to one of the most unique stories ever written and is testament to Kafka's genius in conjuring up such powerful nightmarish, weird, absurd and enigmatic, but ultimately deeply moving and human in few pages.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    read this twice, once in college and again in 2009. It is a creepy book but that is not the point. The point is that it examines identity and alienation. It is a classic of existential literature.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This--WHACK!--is a bug.

    Only Julie would get this.

    ------------------------------

    I forgot how funny this book is. Tragic, too, of course...but tragically funny!
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Read many years ago, so I'm recalling my thoughts having refreshed my memory.
    Three, three and a half, four stars, depending on what aspect I view the story from.

    The writing, as with all Kafka works that I've read, is arresting.
    The story in this case, weirdly imaginative, catching one up in its absurdity while at the same time invoking repulsion and empathy.
    The gist, to my mind, is a depiction of role transitions we go through in life.

    I don't remember actually enjoying this work, and consider Kafka's The Castle superior in the lingering impressions that play in one's mind. From the latter, I still use the word Kafkaesque where applicable ;-)
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    An unsettling, psychological story with an ending that had me stunned completely. See, this is the book that should have ended with "ah, humanity!" - like Bartleby the Scrivener did. Also, my first Kindle read! Am I finally a 21st century reader now?
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This short story is beyond weird. I mean it super is, but it really kept my attention. It's like nothing I remember reading before. I won't soon forget it.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Most people are probably somewhat familiar with Franz Kafka. When we hear that something is Kafkaesque we think of the surreal and the absurd, but with a darkness. The Metamorphosis is possibly his most well known story. The tale of a travelling salesman who wakes one morning and finds that he is a giant beetle or cockroach. How many of us know the rough outline without ever having read the actual work?

    I do have a vague memory of reading it at some point in the past. But years and years ago. I know I didn’t appreciate it then. Reading it now I was left with an overwhelming sense of sadness. Gregor is a pitiable person even before he is transformed into vermin. His family are even worse. For a while the reader may hold out some hope for his sister, but that never comes to pass.

    Why and how Gregor became an insect is never discussed, never explained. That is not the point of the book, it isn’t even vaguely important to the characters. What is important is how it changes Gregor’s relationship with his family. Up until his transformation he had been the sole bread-winner, he can no longer support even himself. He has become a burden on the rest of the Samsa’s, but his thoughts and memories seem to suggest that even while he was supporting them his parents never truly valued him.

    This, supposedly, is a worry that Kafka himself had, that he was disgusting and a drain on his family. In some ways it seems like a analogy of someone suffering from depression, but it could also be about modern life and the alienation of capitalism and the city, or even about ageing. There are many many interpretations, and all, I would think, valid in their own way.

  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    Philosophy, animal studies, etc., etc. This was not my cuppa.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This is a wonderfully absurd comedy (really? The main character starves himself to death because his family is in economic despair and no one loves him). Or perhaps a heavy tragedy (really? The man wakes up as a huge bug and then skitters around the house trying not to scare his mother). Either way it's genius. A quick read that accurately conveys the awkwardness that one would feel if s/he woke up to realize that s/he was a bug.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    A great classic.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    A truly strange story. I actually found it more sad than anything else, people stuck in impossible situations just trying to find some sense of normalcy again, forever out-of-reach. I read it a bit as a metaphor for having an chronically ill or disabled member of the family, someone who suddenly is not the active, capable breadwinner they once were, presenting a double-burden to the family which had built its lifestyle around their contributions. A really thought-provoking weird tragedy.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Metamorphosis is a novella written by Franz Kafka. It's a tragic parable about a man who wakes up as an insect and the subsequent exclusion from society and eventually, his family.
    This is so wonderfully written and paced and the message, so strong in its dark tones, is very balanced with the narrative, making it a pleasure to read.
    In trying to find a similar work, I can think only of Orwell's "Animal Farm", with its strong message also perfectly intertwined with it's narrative. The difference is I find Kafka's writing style more alluring, more poignant.

    I opened it, planning to read only a bit of the beginning and ended up reading all of it without getting up from the chair.
    I suspect I'll be reading this many more times.

Book preview

Metamorphosis - Jean Lorrah

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STAR TREK®

THE NEXT GENERATION

METAMORPHOSIS

JEAN LORRAH

Foreword

I would like to thank Gene Roddenberry, the creator of Star Trek, which has been such an important influence in my life; Hans Christian Andersen, Melinda Snodgrass, and Jacqueline Lichtenberg, all of whom provided a measure of inspiration for this novel; and Dave Stern, editor at Pocket Books, who supported my efforts to finish this novel during a very difficult time in my life.

I have been a Star Trek fan since 1966, when Classic Trek first appeared. I learned to write through fanzines, and have made many wonderful friends through Trekfandom. By this time I doubt anyone can dispute that Star Trek: the Next Generation carries on the dream that Classic Trek first brought to life.

Readers may be familiar with my Classic Trek novels, The Vulcan Academy Murders and The IDIC Epidemic. To the many who have asked, yes, I do hope to write more Classic Trek novels in the future. However, I do not see any discrepancy between Classic Trek and Next Generation; they are both part of the same vision. The spirit of Trek continues—I hope you can feel it in this novel and in my previous Next Generation novel, Survivors.

If you have not read Survivors, don’t worry. These books are written like Star Trek episodes: If you have missed some you can still enjoy others. When you catch earlier episodes in reruns, though, you may discover new depths in the ones you have seen before. So after you have read Metamorphosis, if you are curious about the story of Tasha Yar and Darryl Adin, referred to here, you may decide to seek out Survivors, available wherever Star Trek books are sold.

If you have been a Star Trek fan for years, you may already know about fandom. If you have just joined us via the new series, welcome! Paramount sponsors a fan club with a bimonthly newsletter to tell you all the latest news about the movies, the TV series, the actors, and the creators:

The Official Star Trek Fan Club

P. O. Box 111000

Aurora, CO 80011

But Trekfandom is not limited to the fan club. If you write or draw or make music or costumes or want to interact with other fans, you want the original fandom: friends and letters and crafts and fanzines and trivia and costumes and artwork and filksongs [sic] and posters and buttons and games and conventions—something for everybody.

The way to that fandom is not through me, or any other author of Star Trek novels. You want that wonderful organization, The Star Trek Welcommittee. Be sure to include a stamped self-addressed envelope, as this is a volunteer organization of people who love Star Trek and are willing to answer your questions and put you in touch with other fans. Their current address:

The Star Trek Welcommittee

P. O. Drawer 12

Saranac, Ml 48881

In both Trekwriting and my other professional science fiction, I have a strong belief in the interaction between authors and fans. Authors want your constructive comments. They cannot collaborate with you, write the stories you want to tell (you’ll have to do that yourself), or critique your novels (they’re too busy writing their own). Neither can they write you long, involved letters about how to write books; you can find that information at your local library. You can’t learn to write that way anyway; you must learn by doing. Get involved in fanzines and develop your skills as so many of us did. Writing workshops can be a great help, too—the authors conducting them have set that time aside specifically for that purpose, and will welcome you.

All authors are happy to receive comments about their books, and most will answer questions—within reason. Authors have lives, families, jobs, just like you, and book deadlines on top of all that.

Almost everyone who writes Trek novels also writes other science fiction; if Trek novels by a particular author appeal to you, you might very well enjoy that author’s other work. Chances are, the themes he or she chooses to develop in Trek are the same ones he or she treats in other books. Ask at your booksellers for other books by your favorite Star Trek authors.

If you would like to comment on this or any of my other books, you may write to me in care of my publishers, or at P. O. Box 625, Murray, KY 42071-0625. If your letter requires an answer, please enclose a stamped, self-addressed envelope.

Keep on Trekkin’!

Jean Lorrah

Murray, Kentucky

Historian’s Note

Metamorphosis takes place in the second season of Star Trek: the Next Generation, beginning immediately after The Measure of a Man. Data had to fight for his very existence in that episode; the experience has lingering aftereffects.

No, sir... I never wanted to compound one . .. illusion … with another. It might be real to Q, perhaps even to you, sir. But it would never be so to me. Was it not one of the captain’s favorite authors who wrote, ‘This above all: to thine own self be true’? Sorry, Commander. I must decline.

—Lieutenant Commander Data,

to Commander Riker’s offer of

humanity. Hide and Q

You may find that having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true.

—Commander Spock,

Amok Time

Legends … are the spice of the universe, Mr. Data, because they have a way of sometimes coming true.

—Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

Haven

Chapter One

THE U.S.S. ENTERPRISE swung in orbit about Starbase 173, with only a skeleton crew on duty. On the holodeck, a party marked the homecoming of Lt. Commander Data—a celebration as intense and cheerful as if it had been months or years that he had been separated from their ranks, instead of less than seventy-two hours.

The holodeck was set to duplicate parkland on an Earthlike planet; one entered by crossing stepping stones over a stream, leading to a path through a patch of woods. Beyond that there were open lawns with blue sky, green grass, and a fresh breeze stirring the trees dotted here and there in the landscape. From a distance, as if a band were playing somewhere just out of sight, music drifted pleasantly, not loud enough to interfere with conversation.

Of the participants, however, the one least cheered by the music and laughter was the guest of honor. Data smiled, and tried to keep up conversation with his friends, but there were some who knew him too well to miss noticing that at least a part of his good cheer was artificial.

As artificial as I am, he thought as he deliberately turned to answer a question from Wesley Crusher, just to avoid addressing the concern radiating from Geordi La Forge.

How does this work? Wesley asked excitedly, peering into the startube that Data had just presented to him. From their acting ensign, the question did not mean How do I start it? or even How do I change the display? but What is the principle behind its operation?

I suggest you examine it at leisure and when you have figured it out, explain it to me, Data replied, never forgetting his responsibility for Wesley’s education.

The boy grinned. I’ll figure it out. Did you build this, Data?

No, I used the matter transformer.

But did you design it? I’ve never seen anything like it, Wesley added, holding the tube to his eye and twisting its rings to bring various starfields into focus. It’s as if it knows the direction I turn it, and actually shows me stars too far away to be seen with our instruments!

Dr. Kate Pulaski came up to them as Wesley spoke. She gave a puzzled frown. Surely it’s a trick—a hand-held instrument that could read distant stars would be invaluable.

It is up to Wesley to determine how—or whether —it does what it appears to do, Data replied.

Ah—another lesson, the doctor said.

Data’s lessons are fun, Wesley said, grinning.

Technological, you mean, Pulaski said. I’m not certain you’re getting the well-rounded education you ought to have, Wesley.

I take history and music and literature classes, the boy protested. I just like science better, that’s all.

Data took the opportunity to offer Dr. Pulaski the gift he had chosen for her, carefully wrapped in soft paper. When he had recently resigned his post, in an attempt to thwart Commander Bruce Maddox’s plan to take him apart, his friends had given him a going-away party, complete with a present from each of them. When he had returned so soon, he had pondered what to do about those presents. It seemed inappropriate to keep them, since he had not gone away, and yet impolite to return them. So he had settled on giving each of his friends a present in return. They were displayed at one end of a picnic table with a bright checkered cloth, while food and drinks were laid out at the other end.

Of the crew, he had known Dr. Pulaski for the shortest time. She was also the person he understood least, and he knew that the feeling was mutual. Therefore, unable to choose a gift with personal significance, he had opted for something he knew to be universally admired: a bellflower from Artemis Three, or as close as he could come to reproducing one. The live plants did not thrive outside their natural environment, and so were never exported. For the past two centuries—since the discovery of the delicate and precious blooms whose soft chiming was said to relieve stress—artists, artisans, and horticulturists had striven to copy the bellflowers. Some came very close, and their work commanded great respect and huge prices.

The Enterprise computer contained the DNA pattern of the bellflowers, but Data did not want a cut flower that would die in a few hours. He had quickly abandoned any idea of mutating a living plant, opting instead for as near-perfect an artificial replication as possible. A product of the holodeck, the artificial bellflower would seem as real and solid and beautiful as a naturally grown plant with one exception—it would last forever. And unlike an actual holograph, there was no need to turn the plant on or off. It was a perfect permanent fake. Data had wrapped the asymmetrical shape in the softest of tissue.

Other crew members gathered around as Dr. Pulaski removed the wrapping. Loosed from the muffling material, the bellflowers began to chime, drawing ooohs from the audience, and the attention of an uninvited guest.

Mystery, a Siamese cat who considered the entire ship her domain, had been wandering about, garnering stroking or bits of food here and there. There were many pets on the ship, but they were supposed to remain in the living quarters. Mystery, though, might show up anywhere at any time, despite concerted efforts to confine her to areas appropriate to animals. No one knew how she got through or around doors, detectors, or forcefields; hence her name.

Now the cat jumped up on the table to examine the source of the new sound. Pulaski ignored her, looking from the flowers to Data. They’re absolutely beautiful! she exclaimed in genuine amazement.

I hoped they would please you.

"But, they can’t be real, she said, gently fingering one of the leaves. Oh, Data—you wouldn’t reproduce something so lovely that would only wither and die?"

It’s a replication, Doctor, Geordi explained, created through transporter matter conversion.

Really? Wesley asked, tapping one of the blooms. "It even smells organic."

Mystery put up a hesitant paw, and set the flowers chiming again.

If I have succeeded in my attempt, Data said, the flowers should seem real to all human senses.

Dr. Pulaski gave Data a smile with a touch of sadness in it. But you can tell the difference, can’t you, Data?

Only if I access other means of analysis than the normal range of human senses.

To which, the doctor said flatly, you usually confine yourself. I don’t understand why you should want to limit your abilities that way.

I do, said Geordi, laying a hand on Data’s shoulder.

So do I, put in Commander Will Riker. After being forced to argue the case against Data’s right to make his own life choices, the Enterprise First Officer had not intended to come to the celebration. Data had gone to get him, understanding his uneasiness, but the usually ebullient Riker had been uncharacteristically quiet thus far, as if he hoped to escape notice.

Geordi tensed. Data knew his friend resented Riker’s claim to understanding. But Data knew Will Riker better than Geordi did, had seen him take in stride new life-forms, customs, and laws, no matter how bizarre. Unlike most humans, Riker did not have to understand before he accepted; he had accepted Data from the moment they first met.

Irony was one human emotion Data understood; it was ironic that the first person to whom the android had confided his desire to be human was the very person forced to argue that he was mere equipment, Starfleet property. Riker had lost the case but won the resentment of Data’s friends.

Even those he had not considered close friends, for Kate Pulaski told Riker, You claim to understand Data, yet you called none of us to testify at the hearing.

Did you think I wanted to win, Doctor? Riker replied.

The woman’s green eyes flashed. Do you think I would have wanted you to? Commander, the disagreements I have with Mr. Data have nothing to do with his autonomy. He is unique in all history—and no experiment should ever be permitted to threaten that uniqueness.

Then you think no more Datas should be built? Geordi asked, picking up Mystery just as she was about to pounce on the bellflowers. He stroked the cat, and she started to purr.

"I have no objection to other androids being built, Pulaski replied. As briefly as I’ve known Data, I know that his particular set of positronic circuits and heuristic algorithms have a distinct and individual personality. So, I assume, would another android, even if built in his image. Each would be a different person, as unique as any human. No, my differences with our friend have to do solely with his desire to be something else, instead of exploring the possibilities of what he is."

Mystery wriggled out of Geordi’s arms and back onto the tabletop. To distract the cat from the flowers, Riker offered his hand. She rubbed against it, purring loudly as she wove her way from his hand to Pulaski’s, and then to Data’s.

There—you see? Pulaski said.

See what? asked Riker, Wesley, and Geordi, almost in chorus.

Data knew; it happened every time he touched the cat, and he could not explain it.

Mystery was perfectly content to rub against Data, to accept petting from him as she would from anyone else, to take food from his hand … but when he touched her, she did not purr. Up to now, no one else had noticed.

Animals know, Pulaski affirmed. Mystery knows Data is a machine.

What do you mean? Geordi asked.

Geordi, I’ve heard you complain about finding her on consoles in the Engine Room, Pulaski said with a slightly smug smile.

Cat hair is not beneficial to delicate components, he replied.

Nor do I like it in my medical instruments, yet not a week goes by that I don’t find that creature curled up on one of my diagnostic units. Nothing I’ve tried will keep her out of sickbay.

Mom gave up on it, Wesley said, after she discovered that Mystery never enters a quarantined area. She says cats have senses we’ll never understand.

She may be right, Pulaski said. Cats like nice, warm machines, but they don’t purr for them. Mystery likes Data, but she knows perfectly well what he is.

Silence fell as everybody listened intently. Mystery was still winding back and forth between Data’s hands, more rubbing him than being petted. He had discovered this kept the animal with him longer than attempting to impose his own ideas on her. Just now, though, he wished she would go on to someone else, for Dr. Pulaski was correct—the cat moved without a sound.

Riker broke the silence. The fact that Data is a machine was never the issue. He’s alive and sentient, and that’s what makes him a person.

My point exactly! Pulaski exclaimed. She turned to the android. Data, it disturbs me to see anyone trying to be something else, instead of exploring his own potential.

I understand, Doctor, Data said. Still, it would be pleasant to be accepted without question.

Nobody has that luxury, Data, Riker pointed out. Everyone faces challenges.

Of course, Data said with a nod, challenges to one’s ideas, one’s skills, one’s authority—things one can prove or disprove. Were I a flesh-and-blood being, my consciousness would never be questioned.

At least it’s settled now, Geordi declared. No one can dispute it after the trial.

You are wrong, Geordi, Data said. Legal rulings are appealed every day, and frequently overturned. I do not think Commander Maddox will appeal, but there may easily come a time when someone else with the authority to do so may have what he considers a good reason.

Data, that was a landmark decision, Riker reminded him. It’s not going to be overturned.

"Perhaps not overturned, but given the estimates of my life span the probability approaches 100 percent that it will be challenged. What I am has been debated three times in only twenty-seven years: when I was first activated, at my application to Starfleet Academy, and again when Commander Maddox sought to disassemble me. I did not question the necessity the first two times. Now I realize that there will always be those who are not satisfied. Judge Louvois put it very aptly when she said that the question is whether I have a soul. Even she admits that that is something that cannot be proven."

No more for us than for you, Data, Geordi said.

The difference, Data explained, is that if souls exist, you are automatically assumed to have one, and I am not.

So you must keep proving yourself, put in Worf, who had listened in silence to the previous conversation. Among Klingons, an unchallenged life is not worth living.

Data smiled at their security chief. But I am no more Klingon than I am human.

Maybe you’re more than human, Data, Geordi suggested. You’re the only person I know with a halo. Only saints have halos.

What Geordi called his halo was nothing more than the aura of electromagnetic energy generated by his nonorganic components. Only the engineer could perceive it, with the VISOR that gave him vision far beyond the spectrum available to human, or even android, senses.

Geordi had teased Data about it before—but Dr. Pulaski evidently didn’t recognize the attempt at levity. All innocents are saints, she said.

Almost without volition, Data accessed his memory concerning metaphysics and theology, and realized, If I am innocent in that sense—incapable of sin— then I do not have free will, and the verdict of today’s hearing was wrong.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Riker said, If you didn’t have free will, there would have been no hearing. You would have accepted the transfer without question.

As his friends seemed relieved to accept that rationalization, Data didn’t pursue the question further. He stored it for future consideration, though. Was he capable of wrongdoing? Not mistakes; having to make decisions with insufficient information provided frequent opportunity for those. Not disobeying orders; there were times when any officer did so, in the firm belief that some other factor overrode the force of the order.

But deliberate wrongdoing, referred to in a religious context as sin. Had he ever in his life placed his own desire before duty? Was he capable of doing so? He had never been tempted, he realized. I am simply untested in that area of life, he told himself firmly. Still—

Just then Counselor Deanna Troi appeared on the path leading from the woods to the picnic area. She stopped in her tracks, her huge dark eyes even wider with surprise. What has happened? This was supposed to be a happy celebration.

We just found out that Data’s not a Klingon, Geordi said, still trying to lighten the mood.

But Worf is right, Data said. I must accept that the challenge to my sentience is one I can never say I have won permanently. And what shall I do if I discover that Maddox was right? No, I do not believe he was. Let it go for now.However, I did win this round, so I have cause for celebration. Counselor, I have a present for you.

The mood lightened, the rest of the presents were opened, and the party settled down into comfortable conversations among people who knew and liked one another. Data deliberately stayed with Troi and Riker for a time, having observed that humans often understood actions better than words. He knew that some would think he had forgiven Riker, and wondered if there were any way to show them there was nothing to forgive. They were all Starfleet officers, after all; every one of them must at some time have had to perform a duty against his will.

Wesley teased Mystery with the ribbon from one of the presents until the cat grew tired of the game and disappeared as enigmatically as she had come. Pulaski, Worf, and Geordi got into a heated debate over the book Data had given Worf: a copy of Moby Dick complete with nineteenth-century woodcut illustrations. Data knew the adventure/revenge format would appeal to the Klingon, and looked forward to discussing its literary merits with him.

Right now, though, Worf had other things on his mind. Never one to forget his duty, the Security Officer broke off his conversation with Geordi and Pulaski to remind Wesley, We leave orbit at 0600 hours. You’ll need a full night’s sleep if we are to trust you to navigate.

"Come on, Worf—it’s a party," Wesley protested, thus proving to everyone there that he must be tired indeed.

Worf rose to his feet.

Wesley was weary enough to complain, Most of the crew are taking shore leave on the Starbase—lots of them won’t come back till the last minute. I could’ve gone—

Worf stalked toward the boy, a low growl sounding in his throat.

Wesley scrambled to his feet, picking up the startube. Okay, okay—I’m going. Portal! Good night, everyone. Thanks, Data! and he darted out the nearest holodeck door.

Worf paused a moment, staring after him, then turned to the others. Perhaps this night I ought literally to tuck him in. You have provided our charge with a most fascinating toy, Data. He, too, made his farewells, and one by one the others left until only Kate Pulaski remained, carefully picking up the bell-flower.

It cannot break, Data assured her. Shall I carry it to your quarters for you?

Thank you, she replied. It’s incredible how you can put together something as complex as this, and that gadget for Wesley, in a few hours. The people in Ship’s Supplies can’t turn the designs for my new medical equipment into reality when they’ve had them for nearly a month now!

Do you wish me to see if I can help them, Doctor? Data offered.

No. That was a gripe, not a hint. It’s not your job, and the people in Supplies need to learn to do it. Then, as they walked through the nearly-deserted corridors, she turned back to an earlier topic of conversation. Did you really think I didn’t consider you a person, Data?

I did not think about it.

Don’t give me that. I’ve seen you react to some of the things I say. I’m a blunt woman; I generally speak my mind without thinking much about it first. She sighed uncharacteristically. "You fascinate me, Data. You are so much more than the sum total of circuits, sensors, organic fluids, and heuristic algorithms. I want to understand you as you, not some imitation humanoid."

"I am an imitation humanoid."

Nonsense! she flashed. The humanoid shape is one of the most versatile; otherwise, so many species would not have evolved along the same pattern. You were obviously intended to be as versatile as possible, hence your form.

They stopped before Pulaski’s door, and she took the bellflower from him. Data, she said, "I wish I could wave a magic wand and turn you human for a few days. You need to find out that there’s nothing so special about us, so you can get on with being you." With that, she stepped into her quarters, leaving Data standing by himself in the corridor.

Data did not sleep. The extra free time it gave him allowed him to assuage his voracious curiosity with the computer or on the holodeck. There was never nothing to do for Data.

Yet this night he found himself feeling alone.

Chapter Two

THE NEXT DAY, the U.S.S. Enterprise left Starbase 173 with new orders: update sector maps of an area of Federation space Starfleet Command now planned to open to civilian traffic. It was far off the usual routes, but led to some of the oldest starbases still functioning —those responsible for monitoring the Romulan Neutral Zone.

In his seat at the bridge Ops console, Data diverted his attention from the primary systems monitor to run a brief check on recent Starfleet reports of the area they planned to survey. He noted recurring mentions of border disputes with the Waykani, a nonaligned, technologically advanced race—something the Romulans would undoubtedly take an interest in, as the Waykani controlled territory close to both Federation and Romulan space.

Geordi was using the long journey to run stress tests on the engines, pushing the ship to warp nine for extended periods of time. At those speeds the Enterprise devoured parsecs at a rate faster than Wesley, manning Conn at the station next to Data, could follow the tumbling numbers on his monitor. The young ensign let out a sigh of frustration.

Change the display to give you reports at one-second intervals, Data suggested.

You haven’t changed it on your board, Wesley pointed out.

I can follow it, as can the ship’s computer. There are some things machines can do better than humans, Wesley. Let them.

Wesley gave him a curious glance, but adjusted his display without further comment.

Data’s own board continued to show the Enterprise on course for Starbase 32, all systems normal. All was quiet on the bridge as well; without turning, Data sensed Lieutenant Worf manning the security station at the top of the bridge horseshoe, while directly behind the android, Commander Riker and Captain Picard silently watched the warp-dilated starfield fly past them on the main viewscreen.

The captain had put in only a brief appearance on the bridge yesterday, and today, though he had resumed his normal schedule, he seemed a little more relaxed than usual. Shipboard gossip in the Ten-Forward lounge had it that Phillipa Louvois was responsible for the change in his demeanor.

Data knew only the bare facts of the captain’s relationship with Captain Louvois: She had been the prosecuting attorney at Picard’s court-martial after he lost the Stargazer, and he had not trusted her judgment thereafter … until her decision as judge in Data’s case. It seemed their friendship, and perhaps something more, had now been revived. Data was glad of it; he did not know how to deal with antagonisms among humans, particularly those he considered his friends.

He listened now as Captain Picard took advantage of the lull in activity to bring his log up to date.

"Captain’s Log, Stardate 42528.6. Federation survey ships charted the star clusters through which we are now traveling more than a century ago, reporting no inhabited planets and few with life-form readings. The single exception is a planet called Elysia, charted 107 Federation Standard Years ago by the U.S.S. Clarion. Their survey team reported intelligent and friendly humanoid life. Yet after they had been there only three days, they were abruptly asked to leave.

"The sociologist’s report suggests that the crew unknowingly trespassed on

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