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INT. JULIAN BASHIR'S SHUTTLE - NIGHT
JULIAN BASHIR has made himself at home in the sparse, minimalistic shuttle he is currently piloting. He is alone, having settled in for what passes as night in space. He has been putting off making this recording for some time now, and some of his apprehension comes through despite his best attempts at putting on a smile.
JULIAN BASHIR
When I was a younger man, fresh out of med school - though no less handsome than I am now…
He pauses to laugh, more at himself than at his attempted joke.
JULIAN BASHIR
I was absolutely convinced of the effectiveness of this one pick-up line. I must have used it on dozens of girls on Deep Space Nine. I can’t remember a single time it worked, but at the time I was positive it had nothing to do with any shortcomings on my part. You see, on my final exam I mistook a preganglionic fiber for a postganglionic nerve, and this story was an extremely useful opportunity to show how much I knew about medicine, and also slip in the fact that I graduated as salutatorian.
Here’s the thing though - I got that answer wrong on purpose. Not that any date would care, and nor did I, on a conscious level. I was mostly preoccupied with where the date was heading towards. I was young.
But I think somewhere in all of that, a part of me wanted them to know my secret. I used to think that maybe I’d meet someone who’d understand, maybe I was far enough away from Earth that I could…
Computer, delete recording.
COMPUTER
Confirm, delete entire recording?
JULIAN BASHIR
Yes, delete it.
COMPUTER
Recording deleted.
He takes a moment to compose himself. He starts again, but he’s lost the spark from the first time around.
JULIAN BASHIR
When I was a younger man, fresh out of med school…
Another pause. He’s run out of steam for this particular anecdote.
JULIAN BASHIR
When Doctor Sharma first contacted me about this project, I was surprised that they’d even managed to get it off the ground. Starfleet has never been very good at-
He catches himself.
JULIAN BASHIR
Starfleet has been extremely clear on their stance regarding beings who might not be considered… people. Human enough. Human enough to deserve rights.
I guess the current attitudes regarding synthetic life forms make a mere genetic enhancement or two seem less frightening. At least I’m made of a hundred percent organic material, right? Nothing like Starfleet’s propensity for weaponsing everything in the end, even philosophical questions of personhood.
No, computer, scratch that.
COMPUTER
Confirm, delete entire recording?
JULIAN BASHIR
Yes.
COMPUTER
Recording deleted.
He takes a deep breath, pushing down firmly on his building annoyance.
JULIAN BASHIR
When Doctor Sharma first contacted me about this project, I was extremely grateful for the opportunity to be able to share some of my own personal stories about what being a genetically enhanced individual is like. I hope that the members of the Federation who hear about my life will come to see my genetically enhanced existence as a variation on the theme, rather than an entirely different category.
You see, in my time working with Starfleet, I’ve worked with telepaths and empaths. I’ve met entire species for whom eidetic memory is a normal part of their biology. I’ve met species that look like a human-sized plate of jelly, who reproduce by concentrating very hard and splitting themselves in half. I’ve even been in a relationship with a 300 year old worm. These were all people with far stranger abilities than my own, and yet they’re still regarded as, well, people.
Not that I should complain. I mean, my personal existence has now been legal due to technicality for over twenty years!
He catches himself again.
JULIAN BASHIR
About ten years ago, I spoke at a genetics conference. It was a big step - the first genetically enhanced person actually invited to speak on the topic of genetic enhancements! I spent days preparing… not my speech, I got that one out in under an hour. Probably could have delivered the thing with my eyes closed. I could give you a sample of it now if you’d like - only joking, I wouldn’t put you all through that. No, I spent those days preparing for the question and answer session. I ran through scenario after scenario in my head. I had to be informative. Not too clever so that I wouldn’t intimidate anybody, not so silly that they might realise I was pretending… everything had to be just right.
He pauses, in disbelief that he could have been so naive.
JULIAN BASHIR
I didn’t get any questions on genetics.
What I got was a room full of people who wanted to know what my favourite food was. Whether I could taste things more intensely, whether I preferred blander flavours because of it. I had a man down the back of the room type something out on a PADD and ask “hey, can you read this out from all the way back here?” They asked me questions about my body, whether I’d had any enhancements of my - my functions. I wish I’d had the presence of mind to assure that woman that yes, as a matter of fact I am very functional indeed. It’s funny how you always think of these things after the fact.
I remember looking very deeply into her eyes. No, that sounds like I was weirdly into her question. I wasn’t - I was just so shocked, I don’t think I really knew where to look at all, so I… got stuck. They were lovely eyes though, one green and one brown…
That’s the thing, isn’t it? I think that’s why I’m finding this whole… report? Story? Expos é ? Very difficult. I mean, I’ve been consciously masking that part of myself since I was fifteen, and even though the secret’s been out for years, I’m really only here and freely speaking on the proviso that nobody considers me a threat. Speaking of, computer - author’s note.
COMPUTER
Recording.
JULIAN BASHIR
Is this too much information? Let me know, I’d hate for this to become inflammatory.
COMPUTER
End author’s note.
Julian takes a moment to pause and reflect on what he’s just said. When he continues, he is tired.
JULIAN BASHIR
I used to resent my parents for what they did to me. They cut out so many parts of who I was that - to me, at least - they killed Jules Bashir. The person I was. Could have been.
How many people out there have had to mourn their own death?
Then, when I found out what they’d done, it didn’t stop there. I spent my whole life cutting away the pieces of myself that I was afraid of. Pieces that might make me into a threat.
He pauses again, taking some time to clarify a complex thought in his brain.
JULIAN BASHIR
Have you ever had a terrible conversation where you could see yourself talking and talking and talking, as if you were a spectator of your own body? Some part of you knows that you’re just digging a hole for yourself deeper and deeper, but you feel powerless to stop. Or, have you blurted something out without thinking, and then spent the rest of the day berating yourself over the sheer lack of thought that was put into that sentence?
I haven’t gone off on a tangent, by the way. I know you’re thinking I have, but listen. I’ve never been good with people. I love people, and I love having friends, but I hate crowds. I hate big groups. It alway feels like everybody got the script and attended the rehearsal, except for me. Of course, I learned plenty by listening and copying, but there was always something about me that was never quite…
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but whatever it is that he never quite was, he’s not embarrassed about it anymore. It makes him smile.
JULIAN BASHIR
My parents never had my social skills enhanced. How could you enhance such a nebulous concept? I used to hate that part of myself so much, I used to loathe that constant feeling of wrongness when everything else came so easily. But lately I’ve realised… That’s Jules. He’s still here with me.
And now I’ve begun to question some other things - the experience of everything being too loud, too bright, too intense. My clothes, the sticky discomfort of too-tight sleeves that don’t seem to bother anybody else. My incessant need to ramble. I wonder if they really are a product of my enhanced senses, or if they’re… him.
It’s made it easier to think about myself in those terms. In the end, does the truth matter if it’s not something I can ever really uncover?
Look at me, Garak would be proud. He’s a friend of mine, by the way - with some interesting views on what constitutes truth.
I think the truth is complicated, like me. Like all of us. There’s really no line between where I end and my enhancements begin. It used to be easy to think of Jules and Julian as separate entities, one picking up where the other was tragically cut off. But now, I think the two of us are more like a tangle. Or knotwork. A tapestry maybe, if I’m feeling dramatic.
The Federation loves clear cut rules and sharply drawn lines, but I get the feeling that this project is going to disappoint them immensely.
Julian is unsure if this last point was appropriate, but decides to leave it as is.
JULIAN BASHIR
I suppose that’s it from me. The poster boy for a successfully integrated augment.
He wants to end it there, but then another thought occurs to him. One that he hadn’t intended to put into the recording.
JULIAN BASHIR
Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I’d been born in another time. One that was slower, less immediate. One where I couldn’t beam down to a planet in the blink of an eye, or catalogue hundreds of the biological specifications of different alien species, or wake up and go to bed in different quadrants of the galaxy. Maybe even centuries ago, before genetic enhancements were even heard of.
I wonder if years ago, there was a part of me - the concept that might one day become Julian Bashir - running around on a pre-warp planet somewhere. What quiet places might my soul have wandered in before we set foot in space?
He takes a moment to ponder this.
JULIAN BASHIR
Computer. Delete recording.
COMPUTER
Confirm, delete entire recording?
He hesitates. Weighs up his options. Then closes the screen.
The End