After Mission Hangover

Posted on Fri Jul 31st, 2020 @ 7:27pm by Lieutenant Junior Grade David Jameson

Mission: Ishimura
Location: Jameson's Quarters
Timeline: 2243
524 words - 1 OF Standard Post Measure

After the medical check and observation was over, David had gone by the mess hall and picked up something to eat. He had had a strange craving for a Greek salad - not his usual, but it it just sounded good ....and somewhere in the back of his mind was an idea that having a salad meant chocolate was okay for dessert... Of course, David couldn't think of any reason chocolate wouldn't be okay anyway, so he'd ordered fudge brownie along with the salad.

Maybe a meal so far from his usual explained restless sleep and confused dreams, he thought as he yawned and ran a hand over his face, brushing fingers through the his fringe of hair... it felt too short somehow, which was weird. He stared at his hand a moment, as if he'd never seen it before, then blinked and shook his head. Zoning out. What did he expect? Yesterday had been a rough day and he hadn't slept well last night. A glance at the clock told him there wasn't much point in trying to go back to sleep at this point, so he stretched and forced himself up. He'd feel better after a shower and some coffee.

A short time later, David stepped out of the bathroom and tossed the towel in the 'fresher. Still a little groggy, he started to get dressed. Socks, pants, he reached into his top drawer. Where was that bra...?

Wait. WHAT??

David stared into the mirror and lifted his hands to pat his flat muscular chest, confirming the distinct lack of mammaries. ...why was I looking for a bra...?

He shook his head. Maybe the dreams weren't from a bad choice for dinner. Could it have something to do with the light that had knocked them all out? There were instances in the literature of unexpected forms of data streams being uncovered, even of recordings of consciousness, like experiential time capsules to preserve the memories of great figures, or even just family members, for posterity. What if they'd accidentally activated something like that? If they had and it wasn't fully compatible for interfacing with a human brain, that might explain the weird dreams and impressions. He vaguely recalled a guest lecturer in archaeology describing the after effects of a touch-transfer device that shorted as an 'interface failure hangover'. He felt a little more trippy than hungover, but the description wasn't entirely off - the hangover aspects of tired, fuzzy-headed, god-what-happened-last-night all applied.

Was the rest of the away team experiencing this? He'd ask at the morning briefing, but that was an half hour off yet so he had time to do some research and get citations and ideas in order. And do something with his hair... Honestly, Elena, you look like something the cat dragged in...

Huh? David shook his head. He looked at the brush in his hand, then set it down and rubbed his eyes, blinking away the after image of a petite woman with a crown of curly dark hair.

Coffee. He needed coffee. Strong black coffee and lots of it. That always helped with hangovers.