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"I said oh my, what a marvelous tune
It was the best night, never could forget how we moved
The whole place was dressed to the nines
and we were dancing, dancing
like we're made of starlight"
- Taylor Swift, "Starlight"
/
This holoprogram was the most beautiful place Haley had ever seen. Strings of rainbow-colored paper lanterns shone above her head, their reflections gleaming on a polished wooden dance floor. The balmy breeze of a tropical Earth evening brushed her face and swirled the folds of her skirt. Somewhere among the 20th-century jazz notes of the orchestra, with its sultry saxophone and gentle piano, among the laughter and conversations of their fellow guests, she could hear a cricket chirping.
"Mr. Barclay, you … I never imagined … "
"Y-you really like it?" The tall Starfleet officer blushed and smiled.
"It's wonderful!" She twirled in her new white halter-topped dress, which had automatically replaced her everyday purple twinset the moment she entered the holodeck. One of her private secrets was a fascination with clothing, perhaps because she was only programmed with one outfit. It relieved her to know that, in this crowd of holographic dancers dressed in glossy satins, rustling taffeta and floating linen, she was not the plainest person in the room.
"Would you … like to dance?" The Lieutenant bowed and held out his hand.
His confidence, oddly, made her nervous. She ducked her head. "It’s not really part of my programming … ”
"Oh, that’s okay," he said. "It’s just walking in patterns, really. I’ll lead."
He took her hand, placed his other hand on the small of her back, and drew her close.
It was easy, she found to her surprise. All she had to do was repeat the steps – one two three, one two three – and catch the motions of his body leading her through turns, changes in direction, and out of other people's way.
"You're so … comfortable here," she observed, intrigued by his transformation, which was perhaps the most wonderful thing about this place. On the holodeck, the awkward engineer was a different man: he held himself straight and tall, his eyes sparkled, and a smile was never far away from the corners of his mouth. He even spoke more easily; he had a beautiful voice, she noticed, deep and rich as the bass instrument in the orchestra. If she didn't know better, she could swear the rhythm of the music pulsing through her body was a heartbeat, and it was growing faster.
"I suppose I am." He shrugged, just a little bit shy again now she had pointed it out. "I wonder why."
"Because it's just the holodeck?" She did not realize until she had spoken that a tinge of anxiety, perhaps even bitterness, colored her voice. It was only a passing thought, not worth spoiling the beauty of this evening, but it troubled her nonetheless: Is it because none of this is real to him? Because I'm not real?
"No, no, that – that can't be it." He shook his head earnestly, strands of thick brown hair falling into his forehead. "The only reason I'm comfortable with holograms is because I can program them to like me." He blushed. "I'd n-n-never do that to you."
"Why not?"
"Because … you're different," he said, looking down into her eyes, as if he could somehow find the answer to her question there. "You're self-aware, you can learn from experience – look at how well you're dancing already!" He whirled her around in a graceful underarm turn, illustrating his point. "A-and … when I saw you earlier today … with all that, that food Dr. Z refuses to eat … he couldn't have programmed that look into your eyes, Haley. N-nobody could."
Only a few hours ago, Lieutenant Barclay had found her in the kitchen with her head in her hands, staring at an untouched tray of salad, as close to crying as a hologram could be. It was frustrating, trying to use the skills Lewis had given her to take care of him, only for him to ignore everything she tried. If he would only listen for a change … not that green vegetables could actually save someone’s life, but Voyager's EMH’s treatment might, and Lewis wasn’t listening to him either. Not only did Haley feel helpless on her own behalf, but on the Doctor’s too - and that was without even going into the Counsellor’s ... peculiar plan.
If any other colleague of Lewis' had seen her like that, they would have laughed, maybe even teased her creator for programming her with an excess of devotion. Mr. Barclay, however, had put his hand on her shoulder and suggested, quietly, that she take the night off. She’d been concerned about leaving Lewis alone, but with the Doctor and Counsellor Troi there, he had more qualified supervision than even Haley could provide. For once in her life, she didn’t have to worry.
"You mean … you think I'm real?" she asked.
"Of course." Mr. Barclay nodded earnestly. "Y-you’re ... you're one of the most real people I’ve ever met.”
She had always known that she was, technically, made of light … but she had never felt like it until this moment.
"Zimmerman to Haley, where are you?"
They both froze.
"In the holodeck," answered Haley.
They moved apart as if Lewis could see them. Lieutenant Barclay looked as guilty as she felt. What was she doing, dancing under paper lanterns while her creator might be dying?
"Are you all right?" she asked. "Is anything the matter?"
"Stand down Red Alert, Haley," Lewis replied over the comm; she could just imagine him rolling his eyes. "Nothing's the matter. Not more than usual, anyhow ... now clear the holodeck so I can repair the Mark One."
Mr. Barclay beamed, and so did Haley. Counsellor Troi's plan had been giving her feedback loops all day as she worried over the consequences; the EMH would not take kindly to having his program sabotaged, even if he was never in any actual danger. There was still a chance that the procedure could go badly wrong. But now that Lewis was finally coming through for his “malfunctioning” creation, surely he would allow said creation to do the same for him? Surely, thought Haley, there was hope for them yet?
"Oh, and by the way," said Lewis, "Make me a salad, would you? The one you made the other day wasn't half bad."
Haley couldn't help it. She gasped with delight, stood up on tiptoe and threw her arms around the man in front of her, who staggered a little from the impact.
"Who's that with you?" Lewis demanded.
"J me, Doctor," the Lieutenant replied. "I, uh, I was showing her a new project I'm working on."
"At this time of night? Must be quite the project." She could hear the smile in her creator's voice.
"I'll be happy to explain, Lewis," she said. "Just as soon as I finish making your salad. Haley out."
As they ended the program and headed for the exit, she realized two things: firstly, that Mr. Barclay was still holding her hand … and secondly, that she did not mind in the least.