Learning by Play
Posted on Tue Jun 17th, 2025 @ 8:31am by Cadet Freshman Grade Miran Lalor [Lalor] HRH & Cadet Freshman Grade Raye Crosby-Triannth & Avalon [ADMIN NPC]
Mission:
Season 6: Echoes of the Zynari
Location: USS Elysium – Holodeck 3
Timeline: MD 5 16:30
878 words - 1.8 OF Standard Post Measure
USS Elysium – Holodeck 3
Mission Day 5
Time: 1630 Hours
Program: “New Paris Nights” – Cityscape Adventure with Light Combat & Cafe Hopping
________________________________________
It was supposed to be a fun night out—virtual, of course. Miran Lalor had chosen the program: a stylized cyber-noir recreation of Paris in the 2380s, lit with violet neon and glowing skyline towers. Raye Crosy had helped customize it—changing some of the NPCs into slick dancers and alleyway hoverbike racers. The other girls had added their touches too: shimmering sky-fountains, sparkling juice carts, a few mysterious locked doors.
They wanted thrills. They got something else.
It started with the music.
The background score glitched mid-note and morphed into an eerie, whimsical tune—like windchimes mixed with laughter underwater. The sky, which had been a vivid artificial dusk, rippled like cloth and turned into a swirling canvas of pastel colors. Clouds danced in spirals.
“Uh… did someone touch the settings?” Raye asked, frowning as her dance-fight partner turned into a balloon with sunglasses.
Miran raised a brow. “Not me. Did the holodeck crash again?”
“Nope,” said one of the girls—Tali—her eyes wide. “Look.”
The streetlights had begun blinking in sequence. Not randomly—but in a wave, one after the other, like a trail.
The fifth girl, Lia, stepped toward it. “It’s… leading us somewhere?”
Miran looked at the group. “Do we follow it?”
Raye shrugged. “We’re teenagers. If this were a horror sim, we’d be dead already. Let’s go.”
They walked.
Down a narrow alley that hadn’t been there before.
Into a plaza filled with floating chairs that bobbed like jellyfish.
There was no combat now, no café hopping. No programmed NPCs.
Instead—the Zynari appeared.
Not directly—not yet. But the girls felt them.
Laughter behind their ears. Breezes that smelled like birthday cake and ozone. Murals on walls that showed the girls themselves—but in scenes that hadn’t happened yet.
Lia pointed to one. “That’s… me. With a gold crown? And a lizard?”
“I don’t own a lizard,” Tali said, but then she noticed another mural. Herself. Crying. Laughing. Flying?
“It’s a vision wall,” Miran murmured. “Or a game.”
Then the air shimmered—and they arrived.
Zynari didn’t step through doors or materialize in neat beams. They coalesced out of light, sound, and movement. One moment there was nothing; the next, five shapes hovered in front of the teens.
Each one a little different. All semi-transparent. Bodies drifting like mist caught in gravity. Glowing with starbursts of green, pink, and gold. Faces... not quite faces. More suggestions of expressions. And shifting always. Curious. Playful. Innocent and ancient all at once.
“Whoaaa,” Raye breathed, her hand reaching halfway out before pausing. “What are you?”
The Zynari closest to her flickered and produced a melody—notes that transformed into the word: “Friends?”
Miran stepped forward, her voice steady. “Are you the ones playing with the ship?”
A series of images erupted in the air—like dream-bubbles. Socks raining. Floating mugs. A sparkle-covered turbolift.
Laughter filled the holodeck, but it wasn’t mocking. It was... delighted. Joyful.
The girls laughed too, some nervously, some in awe.
Tali tried speaking. “Why? Why all the pranks?”
The nearest Zynari twirled in the air, forming images with a sweep of its glowing arms: a lonely corridor. A drifting comet. A ghostly ship. A sense of watching—waiting—for someone to notice them.
Miran’s expression softened. “You were bored.”
The beings pulsed in affirmation. Then sent another message—not through sound, but through feeling. A pulse of longing. Connection. Curiosity. A sense of wonder at the lives the crew led. Children. Games. Music. Celebration.
They mimicked Miran’s memory of a family dinner. Raye’s memory of a birthday cake. Lia’s memory of snow.
Then, they mimicked fear.
The Zynari flickered, dimmed slightly.
Not their own fear—but the crew’s. Confusion. Frustration. A few threads of panic from recent days.
They weren’t just pranksters.
They were learning.
Miran stepped forward and knelt slightly to meet the closest one’s gaze. “You don’t have to cause chaos to get our attention.”
The being shimmered—and for the first time, it took on her form. A glowing version of Miran. Echo-like. And it smiled, childlike.
Raye laughed. “Okay that’s creepy—but kinda cool.”
“You want to play,” Miran said softly, realization dawning. “To be known. To understand.”
The air pulsed again.
Yes.
The word didn’t come from any mouth. It echoed across their minds like a bell.
The girls spent the next hour learning with them.
Games of emotion. Of memory. Of shape. The Zynari transformed into musical instruments, floating puzzles, and mirror images of the girls that changed based on what they felt. They weren’t perfect mimics—but they tried.
And when the holodeck ended—when Avalon politely insisted it was time to shut down for system recalibration—the Zynari didn’t vanish.
They left gifts.
A string of floating stars for Tali.
A projected mural of Lia’s dreams for her future.
A crown of glittering mist for Raye.
A memory of laughter for each girl.
And for Miran?
A single whispered word, just for her.
A promise:
“Learning.”
Then they were gone.
