milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The green bagel on Barry's plate was a dead giveaway. It was St. Patrick's Day. And the bar was being funny.

Barry, in costume today but with the cowl down, found himself remembering the breakfasts before half the cops went to either watch over or march in the parade. Every year, Sgt. Fay, Sgt. O'Neil and Officer Murphy would bring in their wives' soda bread and hold a taste test. Barry never could tell the difference, but all threee swore by each wife's taste of Eire.

He took the bagel and his coffee to the back of the bar, and sat to think. To think about how he has a granddaughter who's also a hero. To think about how Bart seems so mercurial. And to think about Sara. Was she really flirting with him? Was he really flirting back? Should he be doing this? Is it too soon? Will it ever not be "too soon?"

He was confused. He didn't like confused. So he just sat back to eat his bagel.

[ooc: usual work-enforced slow-time advisory.]

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"Hmmm. Like a storage tessaract. We had one of those in the 30th century. We never had much in it, but it beat my old walk-in closet.

"Any civilization that tries to minimize timelime corruption is one I approve of. Maybe you should take Bart. He's awfully cavalier about it.

"But who are the Federation? I know I've heard the term Prime Directive, but I can't place it."

"I'll mention Bart to Romana, if you want. That might be the best place to start. I'm not really sure having Bart go interplanetary as well as inter-temporal is necessarily a good idea, since unlike my colleague Dr. Venkman, I don't carry syringes of psychoactive medication around with me on a regular basis."

He rubs at the bridge of his nose. "The United Federation of Planets is the interstellar government postulated for most of Earth's sector of the Milky Way galaxy in the television show, movie series, and other entertainment formats collectively known as Star Trek. It started its run in 1966 in my world. Lasted three years but developed a massive fan following, and there are so many variations on it by my time that I don't think it'll ever die... the Prime Directive says that members of the Federation aren't supposed to interfere in the social or technological development of non-member civilizations at a lower stage of advancement, which is of course bupkis. Any explorer interacting with a previously unencountered civilization is going to interfere with their development even if all he does is stand in the bushes and go 'ooh, shiny'. I remember my anthro 102 classes well enough to remember that... The creator of Star Trek was a man named Gene Roddenberry, and frankly, so far as I know the only reason he even stuck the Prime Directive into the TV show was so that he could make a moral point about the U.S.'s involvement in the Vietnam War."

"There's at least one character from Star Trek here in the bar. I've met the ship's doctor from the starship Enterprise twice now- he's a man named Leonard McCoy, about so tall, blue eyes, Southern accent. He pointed me at some studies on human telepathy from his time that're absolutely fascinating, so I gave him my Milliways research and a copy of Tobin's in return. I don't think he knows about the multiversal nature of this place, though."

"You could have stopped at Star Trek. I'm not as up on pop culture as you are, but I did watch that as a kid. Liked it, but never feel in love with it. Guess I think that it got the aliens wrong, in retrospect.

"I liked the idea behind the Prime Directive, but I seem to recall that Capt. Kirk kept ignoring it. Never spent time thinking much about it.

"You say Dr. McCoy is here? And he hasn't signed up for my medical registry. Shame on him. He'd be a good man to have aboard.

"I have one doctor so far. One. Lots of healers of the magical kind, which is fine as well. But I think we need more MDs. if you see McCoy again, ask him to sign up?"

Ray smiles wryly. "Sorry. Lecture mode took over for a second there. I can't always help it."

"I've only seen Dr. McCoy twice so far. He's looked like hell both times, so that's probably why he hasn't signed up for anything. If he comes around again I'll let him know."

"Well, don't pester him then.

"But having a man of his skills would be good. Given the population here and the tendency towards mayhem, we need more medical care."

"Pester? Me?" Ray sounds injured for all of half a moment; then he grins. "No, it's okay. I'll let him know if it seems appropriate."

"Good. And the same would go for any other doctors, or healers, or nurses, you meet. I have 12 names. And one is a self-proclaimer pretender and one is Mike the turtle. I like Mike, but I don't want him doing surgery."

Ray considers this, then shakes his head. "He's probably pretty good at taking people apart, but I don't know how his anatomical skills for putting people back together are," he says. "I'd offer to help but the most I can do is two-man CPR, bag-valve-mask use, and mask-based oxygen administration. Real standard basic first responder stuff."

"I hope we don't need that, but it's good to know you can. Add it to the sheet, so I have it.

"What I really want to find is a pediatrician."

"I'll keep an eye out," Ray promises. "This for anyone in particular, or just because there's some under-eighteens in the place?"

"You haven't met Claire, i take it? She had a baby here, just last month. Eska assisted, in fact.

"I can't help but feel that we can get by without a real doctor for most things. But a newborn, even in the best situation. needs medical attention. Shots, tests, and so forth. So I'm hoping to find a doctor specifcally for little Seth."

"The only small children I've met so far... well, there was really only one. Millie. Snow White's kid. Snow said she'd been born here and spent her whole life here, and that's about six months." He shrugs. "I assumed someone was already doing the neonatal care routine, but I guess it could've just been luck. Who's Seth?"

"Seth is Claire's baby, Ray. I thought that was obvious.

"And Snow's kids are not your average children, so I think they don't need a doctor. Besides, she knows what she's doing."

Ray winces. "Sorry," he says, and finishes up his coffee. "Should've known that."

"You're sometimes as absent-minded as father-in-law. He had three Nobel Prizes and couldn't find the fridge."

"I could deal with that," says Ray. "Assuming the absentminded came with the Prize... it's a little weird back home sometimes. I mean, yeah, Trans-Ocean 66 came home and kicked everything off, but we were the ones who scientifically proved the existence of spirits and ghosts. You'd think people would've noticed that, instead of just ... adapting."

"I somehow think that to the minds of most men on most worlds, the supernatural will remain as such. But you get to wear a porton pack and kick some ectoplasmic butt, whereas my father-in-law gets papercuts. So don't complain.

"I'm going to see what's going on around the bar. Happy Green Day."

Ray nods. "Take care," he says. "I'll see you around."

When Flash gets up to make his rounds, Ray stares at the table, looking thoughtful for a while. Then he goes back to quietly practicing his Japanese pronunciation.

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