A Walk to Clear the Mind

Posted on Fri Jan 22nd, 2021 @ 12:47am by Lieutenant JG Damien Blackford

Mission: MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Location: Starfleet Academy
Timeline: 2394 - Final Academy Year
891 words - 1.8 OF Standard Post Measure

Damien sighed as he pushed away from his desk, rubbing his eyes, looking down at the terminal in front of him. It all looked like a massive jumble of words and he wasn’t even sure if he actually understood what he was writing. It was an essay, due in the morning, for his Deflectors, Weapons, and Security Systems class. Theory work had never been his strong suit. He leaned back in his chair, remembering how his essay on Non-Traditional Situations had nearly caused him to fail last year. Had it not been for the kindness of his professor giving him an extension, and offering him after class help, he probably would have ended up flunking out.

He stood up, walking over to the nearby replicator, stifling a yawn as he spoke. “Coffee.” The replicator buzzed and whirred into life, a small mug materialising a few seconds later. Picking it up, he carried it over to the counter, grabbing the milk out of the fridge. Adding a small splash, along with sugar, he took a small sip, letting the drink warm him up as he walked back to the desk, sitting back in front of the terminal. He let out another sigh as he looked back over the words, shaking his head in an attempt to try and wake himself up. Nodding to himself, he reached over, grabbing the book that lay next to the terminal, and flicked through it. Whilst all this information was easily available on a PaDD, there was something about feeling a book in his hands that just felt a bit better.

Flicking to the relevant page, he quickly scanned the words and the accompanying diagram, before turning back to his terminal. His fingers hovered above the keyboard before he realised that he had already completely forgotten everything that he had just read. Letting out a small groan, he picked the book back up, and reread the page, then reread it again, eventually realising that no matter how many times he read it, it just wasn’t going in. He let out another sigh, closing the book, then saving his work, and shutting the terminal off. No matter how much he wanted to, he wasn’t going to be able to finish. Not yet, anyway. Picking his mug up, he took another sip of his coffee, before glancing at the clock on the wall, which read a quarter to eleven. Biting his lip, and taking another sip of his drink, he thought for a few minutes, before coming to a decision. Finishing off the drink, he placed the mug in the sink, along with a plethora of other dishes. ‘I’ll do them tomorrow.’ He thought to himself.

Grabbing his jacket, he pulled it on, before heading out. It was a warm summer night, and thankfully it wasn’t raining tonight. He looked around, before setting off at a brisk pace down the street. This was what he needed. Fresh air. He’d been cooped up inside for too long. His brain had had enough and was switching itself off. And Lord knows that he needed this break. He’d been working for long enough and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to burn out.

He walked along the quiet streets, eventually coming to a stop at a small outlook that looked over the San Fransisco Bay. He walked up to the nearby railing, leaning against it, and taking in the view. He let a small smile cross his lips, watching as the moonlight reflected off of the water, watching as ships slowly moved across the water, some civilian, some belonging to the Federation Naval Patrol. He let out a soft chuckle as he watched the ships move. It seemed crazy, that in an age of intergalactic space travel, and having the ability to transport from one place to the other in an instant, people would still travel around on what many would consider being an obsolete mode of transport.

But maybe that’s why people did it. It let them connect to an age that was, by all accounts, long gone. In an age when most anything could be accomplished by pushing a button, or done by computer, tasks that required actual human input, gave them a sense of accomplishment. It was one of the reasons his mother had always preferred to cook using real food. They used a replicator as well, but she had always made sure that their traditional Sunday roast was done by hand. And Damien had to agree. There was something about eating home-grown that tasted better than replicated.

He spent a few more minutes at the railing, just watching the ships pass, not really thinking about anything in particular, and allowing his brain to just shut off for a while. It needed the rest. But, soon enough, it was time to head back. Not only did he need to finish his essay, but there was also a chill starting to creep in.

He let out a sigh, pushing off of the railing, and heading back. It didn’t take him long to get back, and once he was back inside, he headed back over to the terminal and booted it back up, grabbing the book and opening it once more. “Alright.” He muttered to himself. “Let’s do this.”