Trip report, WWW Winter 2005, December 1-11, 2005, Chicago Jake
HEDO TREK: The Search For Bliss
Science Officer's Log; Star Date 2005.12.1: THURSDAY
We have received special orders from Star Fleet Command. It seems that human culture in our 23rd century has lost all ability to enjoy fun, frivolity, and humor. Our culture has become dull, drab, and boring! We have lost our Bliss. As an android, I find this a desirable development, but apparently the humans seem to regret the loss of hilarity and illogic in their culture, and wish to find a way to retrieve it. We need to look to our hedonistic past to find what we have lost. Research into the sources of fun in our history is needed. The computers have identified the height of human fun and hedonism to be at a small resort in Jamaica, West Indies, around the turn of the 21st century, as the epitome of human fun and frivolity, and we have been ordered to travel back through time to Hedonism II to investigate. Our mission is to return with sufficient data to enable human culture to regain the humor, fun, and enjoyment of life that has been lost for so many centuries.
A quick Schrdinger polyphasic slingshot maneuver around the gravitational field of the sun has brought us back in time to the place in question. After taking up an orbit on the far side of the moon to avoid detection, the Captain has asked for volunteers to beam down to the planet and investigate. Due to my excellent powers of observation and superior intelligence, I believe that I am the logical candidate to perform the investigation, so naturally I volunteered. The Captain was quite skeptical at first, and had doubts about my ability to understand human behavior, but I eventually convinced him that I was up to the task, and he relented.
Needing to blend in, I programmed the ships replicator to create an appropriate outfit for me, based on its historical records of Hedonims II in the year 2005. But it only delivered an empty tray. What could that mean? I suppose that I will just have to beam down and improvise.
I materialized on the grounds of Hedonism II in the mid-afternoon at the nude pool. It was full of carbon-based humanoid inhabitants, apparently experiencing pleasurable activities. Their oral orifices were certainly exhibiting the type of concave curvature that is normally associated with pleasure in their species. Most of them were imbibing a liquid substance with various names and colors, but it always produced the same sense of euphoria and elation. I shall have to look this up in the chemical database back on the ship.
I met up with a humanoid named Captain Gary. He is not a starship captain, but rather a captain of a ship that sails on the liquid oceans of the planet. Fascinating. Apparently his mate was in a dormant stage for the evening, so we had dinner together. He told me of many strange and fascinating tales that take place here. Some are difficult to believe, but I have several days to ascertain their veracity.
Science Officer's Log; Star Date 2005.12.2: FRIDAY
I decided that there was little time to be lost, so I applied myself to learning the source of the humanoids fun and craziness that was supposed to be so evident here at Hedonism II. Although the pleasure that the humanoids were experiencing was undeniable, its source remained a mystery. Certainly, some of it seemed based upon the mysterious liquid they were imbibing, and some on an herb that they inhaled; however, they primarily appeared to be deriving pleasure merely from each others presence. How can the presence of another being cause pleasure in ones self? I shall have to ask our ships counselor to explain this to me when I return.
Tonight there was a special event in the resorts galley: an exceptionally lavish buffet of edible foodstuffs. It is fascinating how the humanoids derive pleasure from the mere bodily function of ingesting sustenance. Of course, they tend to accompany it with copious quantities of the intoxicating liquids as well, plus a certain rhythmic vibration in the atmosphere that they call music or reggae. Its effect on their nervous systems is most profound.
I composed a brief report for the Captain on my preliminary findings, and logged into the ships computer so that I could deliver it to him. I want him to be aware of the excellent progress that I am making down here.
Science Officer's Log; Star Date 2005.12.3: SATURDAY
Apparently the Captain was not pleased with my report. He does not believe that I have a true understanding of human emotions and motivations. He has decided to send down Lieutenant Hazelita to assist me. Lieutenant Hazelita is a fine officer, as well as part empath, and will be a worthy addition to this mission. She is not trained in the finer points of logic as I am, but I am sure that I can teach her.
There was a special event today: a ritual known in this century as a wedding. This is where two humanoids cleave themselves to each other, in effect becoming one entity rather than two. I was very interested in observing the physics of this bonding process. The two humanoids who were to be joined appeared to be extremely euphoric at the prospect. This may be part of the mystery of humanoid joy and happiness; the sharing of each other and each others essence. But then again, many of the witnesses of the event were sobbing profusely. I found myself confused. Perhaps the Captain is partially correct, and I do not understand humanoid emotions very well. Further complicating matters, after the joining ceremony, the couple only appeared to be joined at the hands and lips.
I did notice an individual today who is known as Delroy. He appears to be in charge of dispensing the liquid that everyone enjoys so much. Based on his extremely bald and shiny head, much like our beloved Captain, I assume that he occupies a very high and powerful position in the local society.
I also met a humanoid male who goes by the moniker of STFU John. He was very well know by all the inhabitants of the resort, and uniformly respected, although with much familiarity. I went back to my cabin to log into the ships database and check on the meaning of STFU. Apparently, there was an institution on Earth in this century known as St. Francis University. I assume that this particular humanoid must be a graduate of that institution. This also explains his alternate cognomens of Father John and Padre.
Science Officer's Log; Star Date 2005.12.4: SUNDAY
Today was another typical day during daylight hours: the humanoids lounged around the beach, the pool, and some were actually in the ocean. They appeared to delight in doing as little as possible. Can this be a clue to the source of their pleasure? In our century, it is considered pleasurable to accomplish as much as possible, with maximum efficiency. But here, I heard much talk about an effect known as sand gravity. I contacted our ships engineer via communicator and asked him if the gravitational constant of silicon dioxide was greater than for other types of matter. He disconnected rapidly, after hurling a very rude epithet at me. Humanoid behavior never ceases to amaze me, in any century. Perhaps the Captain is right after all. I attempted to find Lieutenant Hazelita to ask her opinion, but she was getting a massage, whatever that is.
This evening, there was another special event, the welcome reception where the leader of the weeks festivities welcomed the members of the clan, and various prizes were awarded. However, even though a few items were given away, far more items were donated by the attendees themselves. These were toys and other gifts intended for the larval stage inhabitants of the island, people the humanoids have never met and do not even know. For some reason, giving things away seems to bring more pleasure than receiving things. Another mystery to add to my list. Humanoids are a fascinating case study.
Later in the evening was the virgin initiation where newcomers to the clan were initiated into the sect. The details of this event are too horrific to describe, but I will say that most participants did survive the ordeal. The high priestess who administered the rites was very gentle, but firm, and no doubt is highly experienced at performing this dangerous and esoteric ritual.
Much later, I observed several humanoids in the main galley attempting to perform a song called I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas. I saw this as a way to gain their confidence, since I had access to many ancient Earth tribal song lyrics via my data-link to the ships computer database. I sang along with them, providing the correct lyrics for them. However, their recent ingestion of large quantities of the euphoric liquids made them unable to absorb my corrected lyrics, or to care. Despite their inability to upload my information, they remained ecstatically happy. Fascinating.
Science Officer's Log; Star Date 2005.12.5: MONDAY
Today on the beach I witnessed a most surprising event. A small shuttlecraft came buzzing over the beach at several hundred feet of altitude. As it passed over the beach, a single humanoid exited the craft in mid-flight! He plummeted toward the ground at terminal velocity for several seconds, and then he opened a parachute and softly wafted to the sand. He hit the ground running, and proceeded to rip off his harnesses as he ran. He ran right up to the nude beach bar, arriving naked and grinning, and ordered a Red Bull and Vodka from Delroy, the bald-pated Captain of the bar. Since he seemed to be a master of fun and enjoyment, I determined that I needed to interview him. His name was Mario, and he was a famous NASCAR driver (whatever that may be; I shall have to check the ships database again tonight) and an international playboy. I am sure that he will have much to teach me.
Later tonight was an event called the Magical Mystery Bash on the nude beach. A group of technicians on a stage manipulated some devices that produced the sonic vibrations that the humanoids find so pleasurable, and the attendees pledged to spend hard-earned credits on merchandise that was donated to the event for free. The illogic here is so deep that it makes my positronic circuits spin. But, they all seemed to be enjoying it! Fascinating. I must remember to ask Lieutenant Hazelita to help me figure out how this all works.
Science Officer's Log; Star Date 2005.12.6: TUESDAY
There seemed to be a lack of female humanoids on the beach today. A little investigation provided a partial answer: they were partaking of a new pleasure called a sybian in one of the attendees staterooms. Nobody would tell me exactly what a sybian is, but based on their veiled descriptions, I gather that it is some sort of holodeck-type pleasure simulator. Perhaps the humanoids of this century are not that different from those of our own after all.
Tonight at dinner was an event called Naughty School Girl Night. The female humanoids were dressed in very unusual uniforms, which I am told hearken back to the days of their pre-adult larval stages. The male humanoids found this extremely arousing. Exactly why larval-stage garb for females would provide sexual stimulation for adult-stage males completely eludes me. Perhaps the Captain did make the wrong choice in sending me on this mission. Nevertheless, I shall include it in my report for the counselor to evaluate.
Science Officer's Log; Star Date 2005.12.7: WEDNESDAY
Todays special event was called the erotic gift exchange. The humanoids exchanged a variety of mechanical devices with each other meant for physical pleasure. I understand how sexual pleasure works in humanoids, and how mechanical devices can enhance the pleasure. But I am at a loss as to how giving away these devices to others is considered pleasurable. Nevertheless, the humanoids found no end of hilarity in the event.
I also became aware of two sub-groups of humanoids within the resort attendees today. One sub-group called themselves the Inner Circle and the other called themselves The Snobs. A quick check of the ships lexicographical database indicated that both of these epithets are pejorative in nature, and should be rejected by those to whom they are applied. Yet these groups seemed to be embracing, even celebrating, them! Fascinating. Perhaps this is another example of how 21st century humanoids find pleasure and fun in situations where our century does not. Another item to add to my analysis.
Science Officer's Log; Star Date 2005.12.8: THURSDAY
One of the participants of the recent wedding, the male humanoid named Ian, was distributing a foodstuff called Gummi Road Kill at breakfast today. This consisted of small replicas of deceased fauna, rendered in a sugary gelatinous substance. The recipients of these tidbits found them delightful, despite the grisly implications of their morphology. I am at a complete loss. I attempted to contact Lieutenant Hazelita for her opinion, but she was getting another massage.
Later, Captain Gary invited myself and Lieutenant Hazelita on a sailing trip. We gladly accepted, since this would offer an unprecedented opportunity to interact with the 21st century humanoids on a one-to-one basis. We joined Captain Gary and his mate on a small sailing craft and proceeded to traverse the waters of the bay near the resort. Aside from the understandable pleasures of gliding across the surface of the water, the humanoid couple also enjoyed displaying their reproductive organs to the crews of nearby craft. The crews of the nearby craft seemed to enjoy the display, but rarely reciprocated. Most interesting.. And very difficult to understand.
At dinner tonight, as most nights, the female humanoids delighted in adorning themselves in fancy raiment. I could not determine if they did this to impress the male humanoids, or each other. Regardless, one of the females went out of her way to provide her crewmates with some molted feathers of a native avian creature. This particular creature, known on this planet as a peacock, has extremely beautiful plumage which drops off every year. As the females were adorning themselves with these feathers, one of the other females (not a member of this particular clan) took the opportunity to berate them for the killing of the peacocks, merely for their own selfish enjoyment! The females were obviously upset by this ill usage, and a damper was thrown on the evening. Another fascinating example of humanoid pleasure, and displeasure as well. When I returned to my cabin for the night, I checked the ships database. The feathers were indeed molted by the peacocks each year as part of their natural lifecycle, and none were harmed.
Science Officer's Log; Star Date 2005.12.9: FRIDAY
Our time here at Hedonism II is drawing to a close, and I am no closer to understanding humanoid pleasure than I was at the beginning of the mission. I wanted to ask Lieutenant Hazelita for her opinion of the situation, but she had fallen asleep in a beach chair, with a contented smile on her face. She seems to be doing a much better job of assimilating into the culture than I have been doing, and has made many friends in the short days that we have been here. I am leaning more and more toward agreeing with the Captain that he may have been correct to doubt my abilities in this area.
At the pool today, I noticed a new game being played. A huge number of small white spheres were being tossed about, with no regard for where they landed or whom they might hit. To be sure, they were small and light and of minimal momentum, so nobody seemed to mind or suffer any damage. They all had small notes written upon them, mostly commands, such as suck Jims dick or fondle Denny or hug a Joe or some such directive. The humanoids seemed to delight in throwing them, catching them, and actually doing what they said. Fascinating. I was on the verge of finalizing a theory that humanoids like NOT being told what to do. But here they seemed to enjoy being told WHAT to do. I am again at a loss.
Tonights dinner theme was Pirate Night. Apparently, this region of the planet was once dominated by a culture that took what was not theirs from others, fought and struggled and hacked off each others body parts, revered their colleagues with missing limbs and eyeballs, and considered it all good clean fun. The Captain is definitely correct: I do not understand humanoids, and I never will. I will have to consider putting in for a transfer to the ore mining colonies of Aldeberan V.
Science Officer's Log; Star Date 2005.12.10: SATURDAY
The resort largely emptied out today, as the humanoids were scheduled to return to their domiciles and their nestlings, and to their regularly assigned duties. Observing them all saying goodbye to each other was the most confusing event I have witnessed yet. I could not determine if they were happy, or sad! Some were laughing, some were crying; many were doing both at the same time. They hugged each other, kissed each other, and took photographs of each other with clothing on, even though they had spent most of the week together with no clothing at all.
By evening, Lieutenant Hazelita and I were almost alone in the compound. I took the opportunity to discuss my confusion and misgivings with her. She seemed to have no problem understanding the humanoids sense of fun and pleasure, and indeed was experiencing it as thoroughly as they were themselves. Her explanations of the phenomenon were beyond my logic and understanding, although she promised to allow me to study the data she has collected in her tricorder after we return to the ship. I spent the rest of the evening pondering the meaning of my experiences and her explanations, but I am afraid I did not reach many useful conclusions.
Science Officer's Log; Star Date 2005.12.11: SUNDAY
Our mission complete, we beamed back to the ship today. The Captain met us in the transporter room, and asked us what we had learned. I admitted to him that I had very little understanding of all that I had experienced, and indeed that I believe I understand humanoids even less now than before the mission. He nodded and told me that the confusion I feel is probably part of the answer to my questions, and that I should learn to embrace it. I am not yet sure what he meant by that. He looked at Lieutenant Hazelita and asked her if the mission was a success from her perspective. She smiled, nodded, and tapped her tricorder knowingly. The Captain was satisfied.
The helmsman announced that the ship was prepared for the slingshot maneuver back to our own time. The Captain asked me if I would like to give the order to proceed. Apparently he is not upset with my failure after all. He is a wise man; perhaps there is hope for me yet. I looked at the helmsman and said, Make it so!
Respect to all, Chicago Jake ( jcesarone@ripco.com )