Posted Jan. 16, 2023, 4:24 p.m. by Ensign Dr. P'Mala Dawes (Doctor) (Shaun Tee)
P’Mala Dawes crept into Holodeck 2 dressed in Victorian garb–again. This time, in a simple black wool dress with gray grosgrain ribbons and a matching gray apron that looked striking against her navy hair and green-tinged skin.
Through the portal, frozen, was The Wattle & Daub, an inn and pub in the port city of Southampton, England, 1889. In the pub, P’Mala was just a barmaid–Pamala. The owner and proprietor was an old Scots man named Henson. She’d played in the novel for a couple years and hadn’t gotten too much more out of him.
She took her place behind the bar, took a big gulp of air, and said, “Computer, begin program.”
Like an 20th century jukebox, the oil lanterns in the pub snuffed to light and P’Mala picked up a cloth and slung it over her shoulder. As if on cue, Henson burst through the door from his backroom office in a huff.
“Pamala! You best go home. It’s empty as balls out here this afternoon, lass.”
And as if on cue, three sailors burst through the door and P’Mala fetched them beer.
“You were saying?” she retorted.
“Not to change the subject,” Henson said, changing the subject, “But have you heard anything yet from that advertisement we put in the Echo? We can’t have a pub without any entertainment, since Westley left, and I’m not going to sell that old piano for a gramophone machine just yet.”
“Nothing yet.” P’Mala said. “Excuse me, I got to give these blokes a topper.”
She rushed to refill the sailors’ pints and wipe down the bar.
Why is it that when I’m off duty, I resort myself to manual labor? she grumbled to herself, but the bell over the door jangled again, signaling another guest, and the shift was in full swing, leaving her preciously little time for introspection.
-Ensign P’Mala Dawes
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