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“So it looks like we’re going to be calling this “New Jersey” home for awhile.” Garak scans the itinerary pointing the the map of Earth with a frown. “Kelas dear, I thought you said the tech restrictions on Earth were 3 not 2.”
“Did I?” Parmak looks up from the floor where he lay prone on Garak’s worn rug. “Well, think of it as a chance to get back in touch with our spiritual roots, away from all the trappings of technological comfort.” He goes to bridge then winces midway. “Ah... Elim I seem to be stuck on my hair again...” Garak looks over from the sofa dispassionately.
“Oh are you now? I don’t see how. Not when I had taken such pains to put that ridiculous overflowing mess that you call a hair up in such a perfect coif. I can’t possibly see how it were to be trapped unless you had thoughtlessly undone it again.” He continues scanning the information assigned not sure why he ever agreed to this in the first place. Alright, it was admittedly because he feels as if he’s stagnating here with nothing but his father’s- no, not his father’s but Tain’s endless disappointment and haranguing and it might make him an absolute exile of a Cardassian but truth be told if the man were to meet with an accident in the course of his work Garak might not feel terribly bad about not being able to get back from Earth for the final rights.
He looks up as Parmak hits the floor with a thud.
“You are a petty man, Elim,” Parmak complains as he sits up and rubs his back. “Is that where the State has assigned our jobs? New Jersey?” Garak sighs and looks at him and Parmak smiles back embarrassed. “Ah, right, I believe you explained this to me over dinner the other night, hadn’t you?” He thinks a moment. “The ah... government has adopted a policy of survival of the fittest to allow the most capable and driven to rise to the top and prosper. Is that right?” Garak looks over the long synopsis of current US culture and history circa 1989.
“Well, at least in theory,” he offers starting to have second thoughts for what must be the umpeenth time that day alone. “You know, Kelas, perhaps I might be better served remaining here with my current station instead I mean we live well enough, don’t we?” Not according to his mother who despairs for him still unattached at his age and living some profligate lifestyle with the notorious Kelas Parmak of all people. He’s not sure still if she’s relieved or not the two of them remain strictly friends.
“Oh Elim, we’re dying here,” Parmak declares taking his hand in a rare moment of dramatic effect. “I know Earth has its share of problems, strife, a completely untamed and savage wilderness but I can feel it calling to me.” Alright, so maybe Garak didn’t need much convincing from Kelas to give a move to Earth a try. For one so heavily invested in fashion, Earth, backwater though it may be has somehow become the galaxy’s height of fashion and “pop culture”. Tain calls it trash, but Garak calls the bright colors, big hair, and shoulder pads home. He can feel it singing to him in his bones and if it takes a move to be near one of the biggest fashion centers then well...
“Poke it with a Stick and See if it Moves: The Queer Alien’s Guide to Earth?” Parmak reads the name out loud in his heavy Kardasi accent staring at the volume on the coffee table. “They still use print on Earth?” he asks looking far too excited by that prospect and Garak again has second thoughts about sharing a place with him. On Cardassia Parmak has little access to the rampant consumption culture that is Earth, humans creating all sorts of unnecessary items from pet rocks to ancient cutlery and trade them ad infinitum until death or said items dissolve. Parmak already has far more PADDs, isolinear rods, and “souvenirs” than one man should ever need.
“Yes, Kelas, they have print texts among other things.” He trails off, finding himself distracted once more as Parmak starts leafing through the text, paying special mind to the pages Garak has folded the corner of.
“You really ought to have more care for such priceless items, Elim,” he scolds him as he reads something in the beginning that catches his eye. “Now that’s strange, are you sure this isn’t a misprint?”
Garak is sure that it isn’t; he can think of any number of things off the top of his head that make absolutely no sense. It makes him all the more thankful that his old associate Pythas Lok acquired the volume while on assignment six months ago. He spares a glance for the page, seeing how far in Parmak is.
“Ah, if I may hazard a guess, I believe you’ve touched upon the odd matter of homosexuality.”
“Right, but this says here that humans consider any male who couples with the same sex homosexual regardless of equal attraction or relations with members of the opposite sex. That... doesn’t make any sense.” Garak shrugs.
“Humans are funny about sexual attraction Kelas, you have to remember they’re a primitive race like the Bajorans.”
“Did you see the section on Bajorans?” Kelas is already flipping the pages all over, laughing softly. “Oh Elim, this is amazing; “the author strongly cautions against offering to feel anyone’s pagh, let the invitation be mistaken for a sexual advance.” He titters at that one continuing to flip, and it never ceases to amaze Garak home much delight Kelas can take in everything he encounters. It makes him feel if nothing else that he’s chosen his choice of traveling companion wisely.
“Well, in that case, I think the author will find that’s the only thing “advanced” about them,” he adds with a long sip of warm tea.
“Elim,” Kelas says sounding far too much like some “new age” Earthling when he tells him that such tasteless jokes are beneath them. Garak think he’s never met a Bajoran yet who wasn’t the soul of pitiful pastoral existence, but Parmak has always been sensitive about things like that.
“My apologies, of course I mean no offense, my dear. Have you found anything else of note marked or otherwise which might renew our enthusiasm for our little adventure?” Garak leaves him with that task, resuming his own perusal of their “starter place” and Cardassian sponsor. He’s a man who rather resembles a bulldog lizard in Garak’s opinion and doesn’t seem terribly worldly. Corat Damar; even the name sounds as the humans would say “square to the max”. He snorts, reading more, drinking his tea when some time later Parmak interrupts him again.
“Elim?” he asks and Garak looks up taking note of his completely vulgar positioning. Guls, Parmak is never going to learn propriety. Parmak is kneeling, resting on his forearms, posterior high in the air as he reads and Parmak will swear on his shri’tal that he does these things because they’re comfortable and they feel good but imagine if everyone lived like that! The world would descend into chaos. “What’s a kan-dum?” He pronounces the human word monosyllabically and it sounds awkward. Garak has been working on his English, much further along than Parmak who can’t stop whining that every language on Earth should be as simple to pronounce and read as Chinese.
“Ah, I see you’ve gotten to some of the more salient points of reference,” he says mildly because of course Parmak would hone in on that. The man really should have been born a damn human! “The condom,” he explains correcting Parmak’s pronunciation “is a barrier method of birth control and prevention of sexual transmitted diseases. I feel I should remind you, Kelas that human medicine is far less advanced than ours so they have to rely on what they can. I’m afraid it isn’t possible to engage in sexual relations without one.”
“Now this has to be a misprint, it cannot possibly cost an entire strip of latinum for a “she-ath compatible with the prUt’s natural lubrication. Do they really believe we engage in intercourse so infrequently?” Garak is about to reply that yes, and that Parmak is the strange one for indulging in such an exercise so needlessly often when he sees those eyes get big, Parmak dropping the book with a hand over his mouth. Garak has a guess but-“Pictures, Elim, did you see the pictures?!” Again, rare exclamation by Parmak but he knows exactly which pictures Parmak is referring to. Chapter 12 gives a quite thorough breakdown of male genitalia- he finds it strange that they seem to come in two varieties- and condom application for humans as well. Even Garak has to admit that some of the specimens are quite stunning though he can only imagine what Parmak must be- “And they walk around with all of that everted? All the time?” His eyes are shimmering with that lusty mystified daze Garak has come to privately call the “Kelas look”. He’s about to explain that no, they’re not typically that impressive when not aroused but Parmak is already on his feet with determination blazing on his face. Guls and Ancients, nothing is going to stand in the way of their going to Earth now.
“Kelas?” Garak asks before Parmak disappears completely back into his room. “Is there a reason you’ve suddenly decided that my company offends you?” Normally Parmak responds with terrible sincerity to teasing but right now he’s hardly paying attention as he stands in the doorway.
“Oh Elim!” he says again with a bit of a darkened flush to his ridges, chufa already a faint blue. May the State bless overly sensitive Parmak! “I need to get back to practicing my English!”