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"The Birthday Party"
Rating: G
Genre: “Sincerest Form of Flattery Challenge”, humor When Charles Tucker the Third, better known as “Grampa” to every young person under the age of twelve standard years in the local community for reasons inexplicable to every adult in the vicinity, announced that he would shortly be celebrating his one-hundredth birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was general consternation and puzzlement in the small village of Shi’Mek. Tucker was very wealthy and extremely peculiar, but this was expected of a human and not generally remarked upon in polite company. His mate, the Lady T’Pol, had served as the village’s local congressional representative for nearly three decades. Her years of service to the community were usually considered sufficient justification for ignoring her spouse’s occasional lapses in socially acceptable behavior. In this instance, however, because the well-preserved human had sent invitations only to the young people of the town, being very publicly and most verbally of the opinion that “only Vulcan kids have any idea of how to throw a good party”, the adults were quite understandably concerned over the potential detrimental effect that the human might have on their children’s developing young minds. The children, on the other hand, were all very excited over the prospect of a genuine human style “birthday party”, and enthusiastically volunteered their services. The youngest of Tucker’s group of admirers was a boy named Sarek, all of five standard years of age and much admired by his peers for his uncanny ability to get into trouble. By a week before the scheduled festivities, he’d already spread rumors of exotic things such as “fireworks”… small confined explosions deliberately set off for the sole purpose of creating esthetically pleasing patterns of lights in the night sky… and a “piñata”… an apparently violent and atavistic practice involving pummeling an artificially constructed animal until it fell to pieces and discharged its artificial entrails, traditionally composed of edible substances of questionable nutritional value. There would also be, according to the children’s efficient rumor mill, enormous amounts of an entirely sucrose based confection called “birthday cake”, and volumes of an imported frozen confection called “ice cream”… both made from soy beverage rather than animal products to avoid offending anyone’s delicate sensibilities. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx A mere twenty-four standard hours before the greatly anticipated event, Tucker was in the courtyard of the home he shared with his mate, sitting with her looking out over the rock strewn plain that stretched behind the main house. The suns were just beginning to set, and the late evening winds blew the fine sand into intricate patterns on the dunes. “I will miss the beauty of this desert,” remarked T’Pol quietly. “I am told that there is nothing that can compare to it anywhere else in the known universe.” Tucker smiled at her solemn expression. His hair was sparse and white, his skin leathery and wrinkled from years of exposure to the blazing suns of his wife’s homeworld, but his smile remained the same. T’Pol, for her part, was grey at the temples and had a few more of what her mate ironically referred to as “laugh lines”, but her frame remained straight, slim, and strong. “Yeah,” he replied. “I’m very fond of it… of the whole village, actually… but I think I need a vacation.” “You’re certain about the plan, then?” “I am. You?” She reached out and interlaced her fingers with his. “I am,” she confirmed. He squeezed back and grinned at her. “It’ll be a terrific joke, anyway… don’t you think?” She raised a brow. Her expression revealed her opinion about the likely outcome of attempting to play a “joke” on Vulcans. “If you say so, husband,” she replied blandly. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx There were only about thirty children under the age of twelve standard years in the entire village, due primarily to the uniquely Vulcan habit of having only one child every seven years, but the courtyard of the Tucker home was much more crowded than expected the following evening. No self-respecting Vulcan parent would allow their impressionable child to attend the gathering without appropriate supervision. For that reason, once all the invited guests had arrived, the festivities resembled a performance with an audience… a most solemn audience… much more than they resembled an actual party, at least until the guest of honor arrived. He exited the house with a broad smile on his face, wearing a conical hat made of metallic gold paper on his head and blowing on a device which coiled and uncoiled like a rock lizard’s tongue and made a most appalling noise. He passed hats and blowers out to the children, who, after token looks toward their parents, began blowing most enthusiastically. A few of the parents actually put their hands over their ears. Following the expenditure of tremendous amounts of excess energy enthusiastically destroying a paper mache sehlat with a stick while blindfolded, the children were re-energized with the candy that fell to the ground. Their parents were careful to check the wrappings of the candy before allowing their children to consume items which had recently been in contact with the stones of the courtyard. This small dose of sweetness would not be the only source of sucrose for the evening, however. After a human style lesson on the fine points of the “Happy Birthday Song”, the long awaited birthday cake, complete with a veritable forest fire of candles, was brought out by the local congressional representative to enthusiastic applause prompted by the birthday boy himself. Tucker’s lung capacity proved inadequate to the challenge, and several of the younger children assisted with fire control measures. The juiciness of their attempts didn’t seem to deter the other children, although it was noted that the pieces of cake which were later distributed to the adults largely went uneaten. As the children filled their bellies, Tucker stepped out of the courtyard to the fireworks display. He bent to the fuses, lit them rapidly, and stepped back into the courtyard. When the first sparkle appeared in the sky, and the first “crack” caused every head to turn, he smiled. He spent the entire five minutes of his carefully orchestrated explosive display watching the faces of the children rather than the sky. Their jaws hung open. Some of the adults even looked mildly entertained. Following the last explosion, Tucker stood at the head of the table. “Is everyone having a good time?” he asked the children with irrepressible enthusiasm. The children, high on sugar and overloaded with excitement, didn’t spare a single glance toward their parents before chorusing in the affirmative at high volume. “I certainly am!” he continued. “I just want to say a few words, though…” A few of the children shouted, “Story! Story!” (Tucker, you see, was famed for his stories.) He smiled and shook his head. “It’s late, and I just wanted to tell all of you how much I have enjoyed being a part of this community for all these years… but as you can see, humans don’t last quite as long as Vulcans, and I’m kinda overdue for an overhaul…” He turned to T’Pol and extended two fingers. She reached out and made contact. “This is my public announcement of retirement from public service,” she said in a firm voice. A murmur of consternation went through the crowd. Her eyes remained fixed on her husband’s. “You’ll find everything in order with our executor,” continued Tucker rather ominously. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of armbands. “I wish to make an announcement,” he said as he handed one to his mate and placed the other around his forearm. She put hers on as well. “I regret to announce that, although over seventy years is much too short a time to be among you, this is the end. We are going. Goodbye!” Then he reached to his forearm simultaneously with his mate, and they both vanished into thin air. No haziness. No transporter whine. They were just… gone. Everyone in the courtyard stood looking at the place where the two of them had been with their mouths open. Even the adults displayed a positively unseemly amount of emotion. It was, considering the audience, a most spectacularly successful practical joke, and they all had Agent Daniels to thank for it. Tucker even managed to find reference to the event in the year 3156, once the rejuvenation treatments widely available in that time had restored his ability to read the exasperatingly tiny print on the library padd his mate had bought him for his birthday. End |
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