[video]

[candothat]

[There is a rather impressive—and impressively accurate—cross-section of the U.S.S. Enterprise, made wholly of Lego, directly in front of the device’s camera lens. This charming view is quickly replaced by Chekov as he picks the device up and sets it on a (remarkably tidy, for those few who have had the misfortune of experiencing Pavel in his natural habitat) desk, adjusting it for a moment before addressing the network.

He looks quite grim.]

One thing I will miss about that curse, I think, will be the horses.

The dirt, the guns and bullets—I am happy without those. Projectile weapons are clumsy and messy and not so kind as a simple phaser blast. But the horses! I was on a horse, once, in the City, and I did little more than fall off of it. Riding one without falling off was good. Better, maybe, than piloting a personal shuttlecraft, although I would not tell Sulu so.

I like machines, but I like animals better. Yes, ships have their personalities and attitudes and you need to learn what your ship is like before you can be very good at knowing what she needs, but they are not so affectionate as animals. I would be happy if I had a good horse—just like the one that I had when the curse was here—instead of a good ship. [After saying this out loud, he amends:] Only, of course, if I could take that horse to space in a ship. I miss space already and I have been gone from it for only 115 days. Being a cowboy—as much as I would like the horse, I would miss space too much.

[He’s not addressing the network anymore. In fact, he’s not addressing anyone. This doesn’t seem to bother him.] Maybe if I were to find a captain who would let me have a horse onboard… I think that that would be ideal, although there are rules regarding nonhuman lifeforms that would be hard to get around…

[And back to the network on a wholly different subject.]

I was thinking of things that science typically takes for granted today and wondering if they apply in the City. The law of conservation of mass… how would that work, here, in a place where new settings can appear overnight and new animals can show for a day and then be gone again? Settings, I understand; maybe the deities can alter what is already present to make their curse landscapes. Animals, though, cannot appear in a dimension and then—

[He pauses, train of thought apparently switching directions.]

There is the uncertainty principle. I usually think of it only as it relates to quantum physics… very small things. Not an entire horse, or entire people. Perhaps the City is a large experiment—Schrodinger’s paradox, that is what Mr. Laszlow mentioned not so long ago. It is not the same, of course, because all of this—all of what we are perceiving—is macroscopic, and it is very difficult to bring quantum theory to bear on such a scale.

Anyway, I do not feel like a collapsed wave function. That surely counts for something.

Also, I would like to have the horse that I had during the curse. I liked her, and I think that she liked me.


[ooc: Look, don't ask me. I was trying to do other stuff and he felt like posting about horses.]

Comments

[hexuality]

[CHEKOV WHY SO ADORABLE]

Of course. You could come over for tea, maybe? And you can ask anything you like. I'm still a student, of course, so I'm still learning but I grew up entirely in the wizarding world, so I'm not completely hopeless.

[candothat]

[The Chekov has evolved into an adorable creature primarily to throw off its natural predators... and to get out of trouble. It's an adaptive creature.]

I would like to do that, thank you, and you will know more than enough, I'm sure.

[hexuality]

You like learning about loads of things, don't you?

[candothat]

You have caught me. Some of these things are less useful than others, but yes.

[hexuality]

Everything's useful somehow, Pavel. I don't think it's a bad thing, wanting to know everything.

[candothat]

I will remember to say that the next time I am told that I will never need to know how to call a Luhvian quail.

[hexuality]

You do that.

What's a Luhvian quail?

[candothat]

A small bird that lives on Luhvia. They are supposedly a delicacy, but they're far too tiny to be worth eating. Also, you call them like this:

[He makes a sound that's somewhere between alarm sirens and a strident whistle.]

1/2

[hexuality]

[Wow. That's... wow. Impressive? Is that the right word?]

Did you, er—

[How...]

Teach yourself?

[hexuality]

I mean, you never know, do you; you could be stuck on Luhvia and need to eat and you're sunk unless you call over a few quails, right?

[candothat]

[Yes, do be impressed by Chekov's useful and amazing skill set.]

No, no--one of the xenobiology professors at Moscow University liked them and kept a few as pets. He did not eat them.

[Which, really, should go without saying if they were pets, but.]

I suppose so.

[hexuality]

So what've you studied, Pavel? I mean, I know you mentioned Starfleet Academy before but... I mean, so—you went to Moscow University too?

[Look. She's only been to one school ever in her life.]

[candothat]

Yes, I went to that and others before Starfleet, which made my mother very unhappy. Moscow first, Oxford University second--although I did not take many proper classes there--and, for a small time, Heidelberg University.

[hexuality]

... remind me how old you are, again?

[candothat]

Seventeen! I was accepted into my first university when I was eight.

[hexuality]

[Merlin's balls.]

I wasn't even in school when I was eight. Bloody hell, mate.

[candothat]

No? What did you do?

[Because there's nothing outside of school and work, obviously.]

[hexuality]

I was taught at home by my mum until I left for Hogwarts when I was eleven.

[If she sounds a little defensive, she doesn't realise it. D: ]

[candothat]

Your mother must be very intelligent to have taught you herself.

[Any defensiveness goes undetected.]

Eleven? Is that very young in your world? I have been told that, normally, the age to leave for school is eighteen.

[hexuality]

She taught all of us before we went to school, so yeah, I think we all turned out alright. Especially my oldest brothers, they're all brilliant, top marks and everything.

[She pauses.]

Well, it's a boarding school. I guess Muggles do it differently, but most Wizarding schools I know have us living there—we go at eleven, usually, and graduate at the end of our Seventh Year. Then it's off to apprenticeships or whatever else you've got planned.

[Though thinking about a future is hard with the war.]

[candothat]

You are also brilliant, of course.

When you are still very young and you go to this Wizarding school--are you allowed you see your parents? Most families, where and when I am from, would not send their children to live elsewhere at eleven, not if they were not allowed to visit.

What will you do once you complete school?

[hexuality]

I get by.

[She takes after her brothers in all respects. But she's immensely modest in things that aren't Quidditch or dueling.]

Oh! Well, er, no, our parents don't visit, but we can go home for holidays and things. Summer, Christmas, and Easter, you know? And it was alright for me because I always had at least some of my brothers there until my Sixth Year. As for when I graduate, erm...

[She pauses, then laughs.]

I'd like to play Quidditch. Professionally, I mean. Maybe make the national team for England for a World Cup.

[candothat]

[There are different kinds of brilliance.]

That's good, if your homes are close to this school, and I am glad that you had your brothers with you when you were very young.

[Ginny, now you're talking about sports. National team? World Cup?]

Then you are one of the best at Quidditch.

[hexuality]

It's nearly half a day's worth of travel from home to the school, but we write letters.

[She laughs again, touched.]

I'm flattered, Pavel, thank you. But Charlie's the best of us at Quidditch—we all play, of course, except Bill and Percy, but I try to learn all I can.

[candothat]

Letters? Paper letters?

[How strange and quaint, although he clearly can't quite imagine on relying such an antiquated means of communication.]

That means you are practicing to be the best.