Lal?”
“I am functioning within normal parameters,” she replied stiffly.
“Lal,” Data said gently, “you are fine.”
Lal peered at Data for a moment and seemed to process the information, then turned back toward Picard. “I am fine,” she said.
Picard felt the side of his mouth curl up in amusement. As difficult as he found it to credit the view of Lal being Data’s child, he could certainly see something resembling a father-daughter dynamic in their relationship. She seemed receptive to his efforts to teach her, with an eagerness that belied her emotionless existence.
“I am endeavoring to assist Lal in improving her conversational skills,” Data explained.
“A worthwhile venture, but not a simple one,” Picard said. “Good conversation requires not just skill, but art.”
Art,” Lal said. “The production, quality, or expression of beauty or significance according to aesthetic principles.”
“That is correct,” Data said.
“But people speak to each other with great frequency, merely for the purpose of imparting information,” Lal said, confusion tingeing her voice. “How can that require art?”
“There are different forms of conversation,” Picard said. “I did not mean to say that all such forms require art. But depending on the setting and the interests of the participants, personal dialogue can engage and even stimulate the mind. It can possess movement, like dance; it can flow, like writing; it can arouse visualization, like painting or drawing.”
“I … do not understand,” Lal said. “People converse … to create works of art?”
“Not precisely, but I have observed examples of that which the captain is describing,” Data said. “In fact, Lal, are you intrigued by the premise of conversation as art?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then perhaps Captain Picard has just demonstrated an example of it,” Data said.
Lal looked to one side, neither toward Picard nor toward Data, as though gazing into the middle distance. “Yes,” she finally said, turning back to the captain. “Tell me more.”
“How about we simply talk?” Picard said. “As many a philosopher has noted, the best education lies in the doing.”
“Indeed,” Data said. “In his Ethika Nikomacheia, Aristotle wrote, ‘For the things we have to learn before we can do them, we learn by doing them.’”
“And because he wrote this, it is so?” Lal asked.
“Not necessarily,” Picard said. “One can certainly seek wisdom in the words of others, but be wary. As the English writer Somerset Maugham observed, a ‘gift for quotation’ is but ‘a serviceable substitute for wit.’”
Data and Lal glanced at each other, as though searching for guidance. “That would seem paradoxical,” Data said. “You decry quotation by repeating another’s words.”
“And that,” Picard said, “can be described as dry humor.”
“I … do not understand humor,” Lal said. “I do not understand humor of any kind, dry or wet.”
“I do not believe that there is such a thing as wet humor,” Data told Lal. “But do not concern yourself that you do not understand humor. I do not understand it either. In this especially, we can make our journey together.” The two androids sat quietly for a moment, perhaps contemplating the concept of human comedy.
“So, Lal,” Picard said into the silence, “how do you find the Enterprise?”
“I do not need to find it,” Lal replied. “It is right here. We are aboard it.”
“Lal, I believe you are interpreting the word find differently than Captain Picard intends it,” Data said. “When he—”
“Bridge to Captain Picard,” came the voice of Commander Riker.
“Go ahead, Number One.”
“Captain, we’ve received a distress signal from New Providence,” Riker said.
“That’s one of the Federation’s outermost colonies, is it not?” Picard asked.
“Yes, sir. It’s on Jouret Four,” Riker said. “The message provided little detail before it cut out, but indications are that they might be under attack.”
“Attack?” Picard asked, glancing over at Data. “By whom?”
“Unknown,” Riker said. “But we’re the nearest starship.”
“Best possible speed to the Jouret system,” Picard said, standing up from the sofa. “Inform Starfleet Command. I’m on my way. Picard out.”
Data rose from his chair as well, and Lal followed his lead. “Captain,” Data said, “though much closer, Jouret Four lies in the general direction of our encounter with the Borg.”
“I know, Data,” said Picard, anxiety welling within him. The Enterprise crew had first encountered the Borg fifteen months earlier, but more than seven thousand light-years from Federation space. Starfleet had begun preparations to protect against a possible invasion, but had anticipated a lead time of at least three years to allow for the design and production of new armaments and defenses.
“Captain, if the Borg have already reached the edge of Federation territory,” Data said, “then their vessels