New challenge: From the Very Secret Personal Logs

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In Star Trek, members of the Enterprise crew had personal logs where they spoke of their day, their experiences, their thoughts and feelings... really just a glorified diary, actually.

Since the crewmembers generally spend their days together, then they experience the same things, with obvious exceptions, but they don't experience them exactly the same way.

Your challenge today, then, is to write about a day (or week) aboard the Enterprise, through the personal logs of it's crew. One event told through a dozen points of view, all completely private because no one else can read another person's log.

(Obviously, the first log and involved events will build the other logs events, but since they don't spend every waking minute together, and indeed some go days without seeing each other, there is room for several plots per story.)

Go go go go go!

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

Personal Log, Commander Spock, Stardate who even cares, nobody's going to listen to this, I'm going to die alone.

I have heard a rumour that I am having sexual relations with Doctor McCoy. This, I can assure you, is most definitely untrue. I believe the rumour began to circulate around the time that it became clear to the crew of the USS Enterprise the Lieutenant Uhura and I were no longer 'going out,' to borrow a humanoid euphemism. I believe the conclusion was drawn, for some reason or other, that our relationship failed because of my sexual preferences.

I am not usually one to utilise expletives, but I really feel the need to say - Why the fuck can I not ever perform a task to the satisfaction of my peers?

Lieutenant Uhura expressed a wish to engage in sexual intercourse with me. She seemed exasperated that she even needed to vocalize this; apparently human beings do not discuss their actions before they carry them out, but I am not surprised by that.

I commenced a vulcan mating dance, and began to perform the vocal ritual, when Uhura left the room, her expression extremely displeased.

She hasn't spoken to me since that night, and I have accepted that our romantic relationship has been terminated. I have not chased after her, as that would be illogical. Clearly our species are too different to interact in ways like this.

Although I have accepted that our relationship is failed, and that I have no friends on the entire ship (the humans seem intimidated by me, and often laugh at McCoy's open heckling), and that I will never be loved not that I care because a vulcan isn't supposed to care and oh great now I'm crying and I don't remember what I'm even talking about I hate my life.

In an attempt to vent my emotions and retain a calm facade, at least through our five year mission, at the end of which I can leave Starfleet and find a hole to curl up and die in, I have written a poem, the style taken after a twenty-first century model written by a group of people called 'emos.' I have even attempted to recreate their language.

u will never no the way i cry at night
bcoz i am a vulcan and vulcans do not feel emotion
that's what u think
and when u see the blood on the floor
gently caressing my body
that will be your excuse

Somehow it does not help me to write about myself being dead.