Fic-Trade-Thing
May. 23rd, 2008 01:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teddogTitle: Downtime
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: None.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I think it's Paramount's.
Notes: This was a trade fic for Steff. It's... odd. Odd idea, odd way of carrying it out. But she liked it and that's all that matters.
In science class, every step to the scientific method had a shape related to it. The hypothesis was the triangle. Three sides. Three piles in the bedroom.
Scott never really paid much attention to science class unless his mind deemed something related to his hobbies in mechanics. Experiment setup, that was okay. So were experiments that dealt with operating devices or getting to the core of how those devices ran. It wasn't as perfect as taking apart equipment in a workshop, but there was enough meat that his mind accepted this as an adequate way to pass the time.
Paperwork, if it didn't involve straight up math and numbers, slipped into a gray area. Science reports weren't as dry as English papers, but went on in tangents that felt like a waste. Too much energy spent on too little a reward; there was no point of writing in detail about your variables when you proved that a series of events in an unstable environment resulted in a stable conclusion.
So, why such a silly idea came to Scott's mind now was beyond him.
Pile number one sat in a collection of plastic garbage bags. Sheets of paper hung out of the bags that were too full to be closed, spilling over into the center area where Scott sat.
The second pile was various boxes stacked on top of each other. They were securely sealed with tape and carefully marked with a list of contents written on the top of each box.
The last pile, and the smallest, was a little set of suitcases. Nothing fancy, just your basic model designed to take contents from point A to point B, keep them safe and secure all while being affordable.
Scott leaned back and took in the scene. The sorting hadn't taken very long, just over half a week. He still had three days before shipping off to Basic Training. Three days too long to hang around here. He was ready to leave now.
It was strange to think that these three piles contained his own life. He could have sworn that there was barely enough to fill one suitcase at the family home, and yet he was left with a surplus of stuff. There was no other word for it; it was just random stuff. Failed mechanical experiments, old school papers, things that you would bring home and toss in a corner, only to remember it when you finally have to clean the room fully out.
The problem with downtime is it makes you think too much at a time when you're better off not thinking at all.
The plastic bags had already been sorted about ten times through, just to double check if there was anything of value in them. There wasn't, everything was long past its usefulness. It would be heading out to the rubbish at next pickup, never to be seen again.
The boxes, Scott had the desire to search through them one last time and make sure that there was nothing worth chucking in them. It would be years before he could see them again, since they'd be deep in storage until after training.
The bags, those would come with him. Basic Training didn't come with all parts included; you were forced to take along some part of your past with you in the form of clothes and other necessities. The rest you were forced to leave behind, to be dealt with as you wanted.
The very thought was frightening, leaving behind his home, family and the very ideals he grew up with. He still felt the urge to cling to those ideals. Even though they never felt quite right, it was something that couldn't be ordered away in Basic Training.
One day, in due time, he also hoped to grow to accept their passing.
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: None.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I think it's Paramount's.
Notes: This was a trade fic for Steff. It's... odd. Odd idea, odd way of carrying it out. But she liked it and that's all that matters.
In science class, every step to the scientific method had a shape related to it. The hypothesis was the triangle. Three sides. Three piles in the bedroom.
Scott never really paid much attention to science class unless his mind deemed something related to his hobbies in mechanics. Experiment setup, that was okay. So were experiments that dealt with operating devices or getting to the core of how those devices ran. It wasn't as perfect as taking apart equipment in a workshop, but there was enough meat that his mind accepted this as an adequate way to pass the time.
Paperwork, if it didn't involve straight up math and numbers, slipped into a gray area. Science reports weren't as dry as English papers, but went on in tangents that felt like a waste. Too much energy spent on too little a reward; there was no point of writing in detail about your variables when you proved that a series of events in an unstable environment resulted in a stable conclusion.
So, why such a silly idea came to Scott's mind now was beyond him.
Pile number one sat in a collection of plastic garbage bags. Sheets of paper hung out of the bags that were too full to be closed, spilling over into the center area where Scott sat.
The second pile was various boxes stacked on top of each other. They were securely sealed with tape and carefully marked with a list of contents written on the top of each box.
The last pile, and the smallest, was a little set of suitcases. Nothing fancy, just your basic model designed to take contents from point A to point B, keep them safe and secure all while being affordable.
Scott leaned back and took in the scene. The sorting hadn't taken very long, just over half a week. He still had three days before shipping off to Basic Training. Three days too long to hang around here. He was ready to leave now.
It was strange to think that these three piles contained his own life. He could have sworn that there was barely enough to fill one suitcase at the family home, and yet he was left with a surplus of stuff. There was no other word for it; it was just random stuff. Failed mechanical experiments, old school papers, things that you would bring home and toss in a corner, only to remember it when you finally have to clean the room fully out.
The problem with downtime is it makes you think too much at a time when you're better off not thinking at all.
The plastic bags had already been sorted about ten times through, just to double check if there was anything of value in them. There wasn't, everything was long past its usefulness. It would be heading out to the rubbish at next pickup, never to be seen again.
The boxes, Scott had the desire to search through them one last time and make sure that there was nothing worth chucking in them. It would be years before he could see them again, since they'd be deep in storage until after training.
The bags, those would come with him. Basic Training didn't come with all parts included; you were forced to take along some part of your past with you in the form of clothes and other necessities. The rest you were forced to leave behind, to be dealt with as you wanted.
The very thought was frightening, leaving behind his home, family and the very ideals he grew up with. He still felt the urge to cling to those ideals. Even though they never felt quite right, it was something that couldn't be ordered away in Basic Training.
One day, in due time, he also hoped to grow to accept their passing.
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no subject
Date: 2008-05-25 08:16 pm (UTC)The feel of detachment, too, is pretty apt to that time of his life. He'll probably be a lot more all-over-the-place when he actually does have to leave, but even a kinda crappy childhood is at least something you know and understand; leaving that for something new and known is scary, no matter how much you wanna go.
Overall, very good!