Posted Sept. 8, 2020, 5:55 p.m. by Ensign Winston Greiss (Engineer) (L Lay)
“Alright, here we are,” Winston said as both he and Clint arrived at the door to his quarters. “Excuse the mess. I haven’t been expecting any guests for a week or so.”
The door opened on a scene of chaos, Boxes of computer components ranging in era from the 2340s to even barely functional scraps from only the dawn of the 22nd century were all spilled across the floor, parts, and pieces seemingly tossed around as if someone had been rummaging through the bins. Other containers seemed to hold tangles of wires, leading up from the knotted mass towards the ceiling of the room on a pulley system, plugging the cords into monitors of every type on Greiss’s desk. The displays were as varied as the monitors they were projected on. Technical readouts of obsolete ships, automated construction algorithms working in the background, Romulan ale substitute recipes, articles and papers on the dynamics of warp fields, and an Orion swimsuit calendar were just some of the things Winston had on his massive array of screens, but while disparate and unrelated, it could be understood that every item was arranged exactly how it was supposed to. The same could be said of the room, as while wires and circuitry lay strewn about, upon closer inspection, one could discern that these parts and pieces had been carefully arranged in a manner most convenient for Greiss, messy as it seemed. Not only that, but the room smelled quite pleasant, and no waste or food characteristic of such a disorganized space was present.
The lanky engineer grabbed one of the monitors that stood from his desk on a hinged arm and swung it towards him. Tapping about on a few buttons, Greiss lowered his shoulders, his posture slouching slightly, his timidness perhaps leaving him as soon as he had entered the door. “He should respond in a minute or two if I can encode this frequency right.”
~Ensign Winston Greiss, Engineer.
© 1991-2024 STF. Terms of Service
Version 1.15.11
RSS Feed