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INT. WHIRLING-IN-RAGS – HALLWAY – NIGHT
The hallway is dim, the hum of the ancient radiator filling the space with a low, metallic drone. Harry DuBois, still unsteady but upright, leans against the peeling wallpaper, squinting at something in his palm...a small, unfamiliar device he doesn’t remember picking up. Kim Kitsuragi stands beside him, arms crossed, one eyebrow slightly raised.
HARRY
(muttering, turning the device over)
"Okay, this is definitely not mine. But it feels important. Like it’s… vibrating with destiny. Or maybe just broken. But I have the feeling it’s a… breakthrough."
KIM
"Harry, we just got back from the precinct. We’re here to make sure you didn’t leave anything you already had behind, not take anything ‘vibrating with destiny’. You didn’t have that earlier. Where did you..."
A sudden crackle of energy from the device. Harry yelps and drops it. The air shimmers like heat off asphalt. Then...
A man materializes in front of them.
Tall, bald, dressed in a strange, form-fitting uniform with a gold insignia. His expression is one of polite confusion. He looks solid, real...but something about the way the light hits him is… off.
EMH
(glancing around, then at his own hands, fascinated)
"Well. This is unexpected."
HARRY
(blinking, then grinning wildly)
"Kim. Kim. Kim. We’ve done it. We’ve finally cracked the case wide open. This...this is the breakthrough. The big one."
KIM
(deadpan, hand drifting toward his holster)
"Harry, that is a man. Not a breakthrough."
EMH
(clearing throat, professional)
"Actually, I’m an Emergency Medical Hologram. Though I seem to be… somewhat displaced from my usual parameters."
HARRY
(whispering, awed)
"Hologram. Kim, he said hologram."
KIM
(squinting at the EMH)
"And what, precisely, is a ‘hologram’?"
EMH
(frowning slightly)
"A photonic construct designed to..." (pauses, recalibrating) "...think of me as a… very advanced projection. With full tactile capability." (taps his chest) "Solid. For all intents and purposes."
HARRY
(nodding sagely)
"Right. So. You’re a ghost. But fancy."
KIM
(pinching the bridge of his nose)
"Harry, please don’t call our unexpected guest a ‘fancy ghost.’"
EMH
(smiling faintly)
"I’ve been called worse."
A beat. The radiator clanks.
HARRY
(leaning in, conspiratorial)
"So. Doc. You got any drugs on you?"
KIM
(immediately)
"No."
EMH
(dryly)
"I’m a doctor. Not a pharmacy."
HARRY
(sighing, wistful)
"Figures. Even the future’s holding out on me."
Kim exhales, long-suffering. The EMH tilts his head, studying them both with clinical curiosity. Somewhere in the distance, a reveller’s laughter echoes from the cafeteria.
The night is young. And very strange.
INT. WHIRLING-IN-RAGS – HALLWAY – NIGHT
Harry grins widely, and grabs a pot of coffee from a hotplate.
HARRY
(grinning, gesturing grandly)
“3 days clean and sober. Coffee doesn't count as drugs! Welcome to Revachol, mate. The coffee’s terrible, but it’s free. Well, not free free...Garte’s gonna put it on my tab...but metaphysically free."
Harry sloshes coffee into three mismatched mugs...one chipped, one stained, one with a faded cartoon duck on the side. He shoves the duck mug toward the EMH with the enthusiasm of a man who has just discovered a new best friend.
KIM
(flipping open his notebook, pen poised)
"Yes. Let’s start at the beginning. You said you’re an… Emergency Medical Hologram. What does that mean, exactly? And how did you end up here?"
EMH
(accepting the mug, peering into its murky depths before setting it aside)
"An EMH is an artificial intelligence programmed to provide medical assistance in the absence of a living physician. As for how I arrived here…" (frowns, taps fingers against his thigh...a habit, not a glitch) "My last active memory is responding to a biohazard alert on a starship. Then...this." (gestures to the peeling wallpaper, the flickering bulb overhead)
HARRY
(leaning in, eyes alight)
"Star-ship. Kim. Starship." (whispers) "He’s a space ghost."
KIM
(ignoring Harry, focused)
"So you’re from the future?"
EMH
(dry)
"Or another universe. Temporal mechanics isn’t my specialty. But given the technological disparity...yes, likely the future."
HARRY
(slamming his palms on the table, coffee sloshing)
"Finally. Someone who gets it. Doc, you gotta help me convince Kim that cryptids are real. We got the phasmid on film, but he still won’t admit the dolores dei might’ve been an alien..."
KIM
(firmly)
"Harry. Focus." (to EMH) "You mentioned you’re a doctor. Are you functional? Can you… treat people?"
EMH
(straightening, professional pride kicking in)
"Of course. My program includes expertise in over 47 million medical procedures. Though I’ll need to scan your equipment to determine compatibility..."
HARRY
(already rolling up his sleeve, exposing a fading bruise)
"Great. First question: Why do I feel like death? And don’t say ‘alcohol.’ I’ve been good."
EMH
(scans Harry with a skeptical once-over)
"Chronic sleep deprivation. Malnutrition. Mild dehydration. And..." (pauses, squints) "...are those electrical burns on your fingertips?"
HARRY
(grinning, proud)
"I may have licked a fuse box."
KIM
(without looking up from his notes)
"He did."
EMH
(pinching the bridge of his nose...a startlingly human gesture for a photonic being)
"...I can see my services will be urgently required here."
The radiator clanks again. Somewhere, a door slams. The EMH’s eyes flicker...just for a second...like a faulty bulb.
KIM
(noticing, sharp)
"Are you… stable?"
EMH
(recomposing, but there’s an edge of concern now)
"For the moment. But if I’m not meant to be here… I may not last indefinitely."
HARRY
(slurping coffee, undeterred)
"Then we better work fast. Welcome to the RCM, Doc. You’re our new forensic consultant." (grins) "Also, space ambassador."
Kim sighs. The EMH looks torn between fascination and dread.
The night stretches on. Harry takes a long, dramatic gulp of coffee, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and spreads his arms like a carnival barker about to reveal the main attraction.
HARRY
"Alright, Doc, strap in...because this is where it gets good." (points at Kim's notebook) "Kim, you might wanna take notes. Or draw little stars in the margins. Whatever helps."
KIM (dry, already writing)
"I’ll manage."
HARRY (leaning in, conspiratorial)
"So. Picture this: A corpse. Hanging from a tree in the backyard like some kind of… anti-Christmas ornament." (pauses for effect, then frowns) "Wait, no. That’s not festive. More like a… warning. Yeah. A warning ornament."
EMH (raising an eyebrow)
"A warning ornament."
HARRY (nodding sagely)
"Exactly. And not just any corpse...this was The Hanged Man. A mercenary. A killer. A real piece of work. And someone strung him up there like a piñata full of bad decisions."
KIM (patiently correcting)
"Harry means we were investigating a homicide. A former mercenary was lynched in the courtyard. We were staying here at the Whirling-in-Rags while working the case."
HARRY (waving a hand)
"Yeah, yeah, lynched, whatever...point is, we solved it. Well, mostly. There was also a drug empire, a failed revolution, and a giant icebreaker ship full of sad guys with guns. Oh, and a phasmid." (grinning, nudging the EMH) "You’d love the phasmid. Tall, weird, super polite."
EMH (processing this)
"...I see." (pauses) "And this… phasmid. It’s a local lifeform?"
KIM (nodding)
"An extremely rare, possibly mythical cryptid. We have photographic evidence, but… well, it’s been a week." (glances at Harry) "A long week."
HARRY (ignoring the subtext, gesturing wildly)
"And now...just when we thought things couldn’t get weirder...you show up! A holographic doctor from space!" (gasps, eyes widening) "Wait. Wait. Doc, you ever heard of Dolores Dei?"
EMH (blinking)
"I… can’t say I have."
HARRY (grabbing the EMH’s shoulders, intense)
"Think. Shining lady? Miracle worker? Maybe an alien?"
KIM (sighing, pulling Harry back by the collar)
"Harry, please don’t manhandle our interdimensional guest."
EMH (adjusting his uniform, bemused)
"It’s… quite alright. Though I should note...if I am destabilizing, physical contact might not be the best idea."
HARRY (immediately poking the EMH’s arm)
"Whoa. You feel real. Like, weirdly real. Are you sure you’re not just a guy in a costume?"
EMH (deadpan)
"Quite sure."
KIM (rubbing his temples)
"Harry, please." (to EMH) "Ignore him. The point is...we wrapped up the case. The killer’s in custody, the district’s… marginally less on fire, and we were just finishing our reports before heading back to Precinct 41." (pauses, thoughtful) "But now, with you here…"
HARRY (grinning, slinging an arm around the EMH’s shoulders)
"Now we’ve got a whole new mystery!" (to Kim) "We gotta take him back to the station. Think of the science, Kim! The breakthroughs! The look on Jean’s face!"
KIM (considering, then nodding slowly)
"...It would be irresponsible to leave him here."
EMH (raising a hand)
"While I appreciate the enthusiasm, I should point out that I have no idea how long I’ll remain corporeal. Or… functional."
HARRY (waving it off)
"Pfft. Details. We’ll figure it out. Worst-case scenario, you explode into a bunch of sparkles, and we tell everyone it was performance art."
KIM (mutters)
"God help me."
The EMH looks between them...one barely coherent detective vibrating with manic energy, the other a long-suffering lieutenant already mentally drafting his incident report.
EMH (smirking, despite himself)
"Well. This should be… interesting."
The radiator clanks in agreement.
[ENCYCLOPEDIA] *The human nervous system was not designed to process this many revelations in one evening. You are currently operating at 180% metaphysical capacity. Side effects may include: existential vertigo, spontaneous theorizing, and/or the sudden urge to hug a hologram.*
HARRY (rubbing his temples, muttering to himself)
"Okay. Okayokayokay. Space doctor. Time glitch. Probably not a hallucination, because Kim sees him too...unless this is a shared hallucination, which would be wild, but statistically..."
KIM (cutting him off, to the EMH)
"Before we proceed, I need to confirm: Are you dangerous? Unintentionally or otherwise?"
EMH (folding his arms)
"Unless you count my bedside manner, no. My programming prohibits harm to sentient lifeforms."
[DRAMA] He’s telling the truth. Or at least, he believes he is. There’s a stiffness to his delivery, though...like he’s reciting a manual. What isn’t he saying?
HARRY (pointing dramatically)
"Aha! But...what if your glitchy space-ship tech starts, I dunno, melding with our reality? Like a… a reality tumor?"
[SHIVERS] The wind howls outside. The Whirling creaks in response. Revachol herself is listening. She doesn’t know either.
KIM (pinching the bridge of his nose)
"Harry, please don’t call it a ‘reality tumor.’"
EMH (frowning)
"Even if my matrix destabilizes, the worst that would happen is my program terminating. No… tumors."
[ELECTROCHEMISTRY] Boring. If he’s gonna vanish in a blaze of glory, he should at least leave behind some cool radiation. Maybe something you can smoke.
HARRY (ignoring the voice, snapping his fingers)
"Wait! The RCM motor pool! We’ve got that one junker with the weird radio...the one that picks up the ‘floating numbers station’! Maybe we can tune you in!"
[LOGIC] That’s not how any of this works.
[INLAND EMPIRE] …But what if it IS?
KIM (skeptical)
"Harry, that’s a broken speedometer."
HARRY (undeterred)
"Allegedly."
The EMH’s form flickers again...this time more noticeably. A faint buzz of static, a momentary transparency. He looks down at his hands, brow furrowed.
EMH (quietly urgent)
"We may need to expedite this. My pattern integrity is degrading faster than I anticipated."
[HALF LIGHT] He’s gonna blow. Get out. GET OUT.
[VOLITION] Stay. Help him. This isn’t just about science...it’s about a life, artificial or not.
HARRY (suddenly serious, meeting the EMH’s eyes)
"Alright, Doc. Let’s get you to the precinct. Kim’s got a disco of a motor carriage outside." (grins weakly) "Just… try not to phase through the floorboards, yeah?"
KIM (already heading for the door, resigned)
"I’ll start the engine. Try not to explain reality tumors to him on the way."
The EMH exhales...a pointless gesture for a hologram, but oddly comforting.
EMH (smirking)
"Noted."
[ENDURANCE] Your knees ache. Your head pounds. You’re three days sober and running on coffee and cosmic absurdity. But you’ll make it. You always do.
The trio moves toward the exit, the Whirling’s lights flickering behind them like a send-off from the city itself.
EXT. WHIRLING-IN-RAGS – PARKING LOT – NIGHT
The motor carriage coughs to life under Kim’s steady hands, its headlights cutting through the mist like dull knives. Harry flops into the backseat, knees jammed against the divider, while the EMH slides into the passenger side with an air of bemused detachment...like a man trying to politely ignore the fact that he’s sitting in a fossil.
HARRY (leaning forward, breath coffee-hot)
"Alright, Doc. Full disclosure time. What were you up to right before you popped into our sad little world? Mid-space-surgery? Space poker night? Singing opera?"
EMH (adjusting his sleeves...a nervous tic, maybe)
"Neither. I was responding to a containment breach on the USS Voyager. A bio-neural gel pack had ruptured in the secondary hull, releasing a neurotoxic enzyme into the ventilation system."
[ENCYCLOPEDIA] Bio-neural gel packs: Organic computing systems. Imagine if your brain was a slimy cauliflower and also ran a star-ship. You’d probably drink even more.
KIM (frowning, keeping his eyes on the road)
"So you were… decontaminating?"
EMH (nodding)
"Precisely. I’d just finished stabilizing the affected crew when the ship hit a temporal anomaly. Next thing I knew, I was standing in your hallway."
[SHIVERS] The wind howls through the cracked window. Somewhere out there, in the black between stars, a ship is missing its doctor.
HARRY (grinning)
"Temporal anomaly. That’s just a fancy way of saying ‘time ghost,’ right?"
EMH (dry)
"No."
KIM (ignoring Harry, focused)
"And this… Voyager. It’s a military vessel?"
EMH (hesitating)
"Exploratory. Mostly."
[DRAMA] Mostly. But not entirely. There’s a wariness in his voice...like a man who’s seen war.
The motor carriage lurches over a pothole. The EMH flickers again, his edges blurring for a split second before snapping back into focus.
HARRY (suddenly serious)
"Whoa. You good, Doc?"
EMH (examining his fading fingertips)
"Apparently not. Whatever’s anchoring me here is… unstable."
[INLAND EMPIRE] He’s a message in a bottle. And the ocean’s evaporating.
KIM (gripping the wheel tighter)
"We’ll get you to the precinct. Our techs might not know star-ships, but they’re good at… making things work." (pause) "Usually."
HARRY (leaning back, staring at the ceiling)
"Y’know, Doc, if you do vanish, at least you got to see Revachol first. We’ve got culture. Crime. Crime culture."
EMH (almost smiling)
"Charming."
[ELECTROCHEMISTRY] You should’ve asked if he has space drugs. SPACE DRUGS, HARRY.
[VOLITION] Shut UP. He’s dying.
INT. KIM'S MOTOR CARRIAGE – NIGHT
The motor carriage rattled along the rain-slick streets of Revachol, its engine groaning like an overworked pensioner. The EMH sat stiffly in the passenger seat, his holographic fingers tapping an absent rhythm on his knee. Harry is sprawled across the backseat, one arm dangling out the window, catching droplets of rain.
HARRY
"So, Doc...ever heard of something called the Pale?"
EMH (frowning slightly)
"Can't say I have. Geological formation?"
KIM (eyes still on the road, but listening closely)
"Not quite. It's... an omnipresent metaphysical phenomenon. A kind of fog that surrounds our world. The deeper you go into it, the more reality... unravels."
EMH (leaning forward, intrigued despite himself)
"Fascinating. And this Pale...it has observable effects on matter? On time?"
HARRY (grinning)
"Oh, buddy, you have no idea. The Pale eats memories. Dissolves borders. Some people think it's alive." (pauses, then adds, conspiratorially) "And we just found out that at least one cryptid...the Insulindian Phasmid...has been living in it for centuries."
The EMH's eyebrows shot up.
EMH
"A lifeform capable of surviving in an anomalous environment like that? That would imply an entirely unique biological..." (cuts himself off, recalibrating) "You have proof?"
KIM (nodding)
"Photographic evidence. Clear as day. It's... unsettling, honestly."
HARRY (waving a hand)
"Nah, she's polite. Tall, glowing, real into existential small talk. Point is..." (leans forward, suddenly serious) "...if the Phasmid can exist in the Pale, and the Pale messes with time and space... maybe you didn't just time-travel. Maybe you Pale-traveled."
A beat of silence. The motor carriage hit another pothole.
EMH (slowly)
"You're suggesting this... Pale of yours might have interfaced with the temporal anomaly that displaced me."
KIM (glancing at Harry, then back to the EMH)
"It's not the stupidest theory we've entertained this week."
HARRY (grinning)
"High praise, coming from Kim."
The EMH stared out the window, watching the neon signs of Revachol blur past. His form flickered again...just for a second...but this time, he didn't seem to notice.
EMH (quietly)
"If that's true... then returning to my ship may be more complicated than I thought."
HARRY (slapping the back of the EMH's seat)
"Hey, look on the bright side! If you're stuck here, you can help us solve crimes. Or teach us space medicine. Or finally explain what the hell a 'quantum' is."
KIM (dryly)
"Let's focus on stabilizing him first, Harry."
The EMH exhaled...another pointless, human gesture.
EMH (smirking slightly)
"Agreed. Though I would like to see this Phasmid photograph."
HARRY (laughing, leaning back again)
"Oh, Doc. You're gonna love her."
The motor carriage rumbled on, carrying its strange cargo deeper into the night. Somewhere above them, beyond the clouds, beyond even the Pale, a starship drifted...missing its doctor.
EXT. REVACHOL CITIZEN'S MILITIA PRECINCT 41 – NIGHT
The motor carriage sputtered to a stop in front of the precinct, its headlights cutting through the misty dark like two tired eyes. The building loomed...sturdy, unglamorous, a relic of better-funded days. A single flickering bulb above the entrance buzzed like an irritated insect.
HARRY (throwing open the door, nearly tripping on the curb)
"Home sweet home! Also known as the place where dreams go to die... but in a professional way."
KIM (exiting smoothly, adjusting his gloves)
"Try not to scare him off before we get inside, Harry."
The EMH stepped out, studying the precinct with a critical eye. His form wavered slightly...less substantial now, as if the night air itself was eroding him.
EMH (muttering)
"Fascinating. Early 20th-century architecture, but with... modifications." (eyes the cracked concrete, the jury-rigged electrical wiring snaking up the wall)
HARRY (slapping the EMH on the back...his hand passing partially through for a split second)
"Wait'll you see the inside. We've got a real coffee machine. By which I mean a kettle and some questionable instant powder."
KIM (heading for the doors)
"Let's get him to the tech lab. Maybe Mack can..."
HARRY (gasping, grabbing Kim's arm)
"Wait. Before we go in...we need a cover story." (turns to the EMH, deadly serious) "Doc, if anyone asks, you're a... a foreign consultant. From... (snaps fingers) Samiara! Yeah. Very prestigious. Very hush-hush."
EMH (raising an eyebrow)
"And my name?"
HARRY (grinning)
"Uh... Doctor..." (floundering)
KIM (deadpan)
"Doctor Samaritan. Since you're helping us."
EMH (dry)
"Creative."
HARRY (pointing at Kim)
"See, this is why you're the brains."
As they pushed through the precinct doors, the usual chaos greeted them...officers arguing over case files, the distant clang of a cell door, the smell of stale coffee and cheaper aftershave.
JEAN VICQUEMARE (from across the room, spotting them immediately)
"Oh God. DuBois is back. And he's brought another stray." (squints at the EMH) "Who the hell is this?"
HARRY (spreading his arms, theatrical)
"Jean, meet Doctor Samaritan! World-renowned... uh... Pale-ologist. Here to consult on our latest metaphysical crisis."
JEAN (pinching the bridge of his nose)
"I hate my life."
EMH (murmuring to Kim)
"Is he always like this?"
KIM (sighing)
"Unfortunately."
The EMH's form flickered again...more violently this time. A few officers nearby gasped, one crossing himself.
HARRY (grabbing the EMH's arm...this time fully gripping solid hologram)
"Okay, no time to lose. Mack! MACK! We need the tech lab now!"
As they hurried down the hall, the precinct's fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the EMH cast one last glance back at the chaos...the shouting, the paperwork, the sheer humanity of it all.
EMH (quietly, to himself)
"...Remarkable."
INT. RCM PRECINCT 41 – TECH LAB – NIGHT
The tech lab was a cramped, cluttered cave of humming machinery, half-dismantled radios, and at least three separate coffee cups growing new ecosystems. Mack Torson sat hunched over a gutted motor carriage engine part, grease smeared across his forehead like war paint. He didn’t look up as they barged in.
MACK (grunting)
"If it’s about the mimeograph again, I already told you...no. It’s haunted. We’re burning it tomorrow."
HARRY (slapping a hand on the workbench)
"Bigger than that, Mack. Way bigger. Meet our new friend...Doctor Samaritan. He’s a... highly advanced medical consultant who’s experiencing some technical difficulties."
Mack finally looked up, squinting at the EMH. His eyes lingered on the strange gold insignia on the hologram’s chest, then the faint, almost imperceptible shimmer at the edges of his form.
MACK (slowly putting down his wrench)
"...The fuck is this?"
KIM (stepping forward, diplomatic)
"He’s a specialist. From out of town. And he needs your help."
The EMH, ever the professional, extended a hand.
EMH
"To be more precise, I’m an artificial intelligence currently experiencing pattern degradation due to an unstable connection to this spacetime. I was hoping your equipment might..."
MACK (leaning back, crossing his arms)
"Hold on. Hold the fuck on. Are you telling me this guy’s a robot?"
HARRY (grinning)
"More like a ghost robot. But fancy."
MACK (rubbing his temples)
"DuBois, I swear to God..."
EMH (cutting in, calm but firm)
"Lieutenant Torson, I understand this is... unusual. But my matrix is destabilizing. If I don’t find a way to anchor myself soon, I will cease to function."
A beat. Mack exhaled sharply through his nose, then stood up, wiping his hands on his already-filthy coveralls.
MACK
"Alright. Fine. Whatever. Let’s say I believe you. What exactly do you expect me to do about it?"
EMH (gesturing to the lab)
"Your technology is primitive, but analog. That might actually work in my favor. If I can interface with a stable power source and a signal modulator, I might be able to reinforce my pattern buffer long enough to..."
MACK (holding up a hand)
"Plain language, Doc."
KIM (translating)
"He needs something to plug into. Preferably not the wall socket."
MACK (snorting)
"Yeah, that’d fry him and the precinct’s wiring." (Pauses, thinking, then snaps his fingers.) "Wait. The radio tower array on the roof. It’s got enough juice to broadcast halfway to Seol, and it’s mostly not on fire."
HARRY (clapping his hands together)
"Perfect! We’ll just sneak him up there..."
JEAN (leaning in the doorway, arms crossed)
"Oh, will you?"
Everyone froze.
HARRY (sheepish grin)
"...Jean! Buddy! We were just..."
JEAN (deadpan)
"No. Whatever it is, no." (Points at the EMH.) "That’s not a doctor. That’s not even a person. That’s a glitch wearing a uniform, and I want it out of my precinct before..."
The EMH flickered violently...then winked out for a full second before reappearing, his form now visibly translucent.
Silence.
JEAN (blinking)
"...Okay. That was new."
EMH (voice staticky)
"As I said. Time is limited."
Mack sighed, grabbed a toolbox, and headed for the door.
MACK (grumbling)
"Roof. Now. Before I change my damn mind."
HARRY (grinning, throwing an arm around the EMH’s shoulders...this time mostly connecting)
"See, Doc? Told ya we’d fix you right up."
The EMH, despite everything, almost smiled.
INT. PRECINCT 41 – STAIRWELL – NIGHT
The climb to the roof was a gauntlet of flickering fluorescents and peeling paint. Harry took the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping over his own feet in his enthusiasm. Kim followed at a steadier pace, while the EMH...now noticeably fainter...drifted behind them like a ghost tethered to the world by sheer stubbornness.
HARRY (panting, grinning back at the EMH)
"Almost there, Doc! Just try not to phase through the floor. I don’t wanna have to explain ghost retrieval to payroll."
EMH (dry, but flickering)
"Noted."
KIM (pushing open the final door, cold night air rushing in)
"Here. The array’s on the west side."
EXT. PRECINCT 41 ROOFTOP – NIGHT
The rooftop was a graveyard of broken antennas, jury-rigged wiring, and at least one rusted-out satellite dish that looked like it had survived a bombing. The radio tower loomed over it all...a spindly metal giant humming with latent electricity. Mack was already crouched near its base, wrench in hand, muttering to himself as he inspected the connections.
MACK (without looking up)
"Alright, Doc. You wanna ‘interface’? This is your best shot. Tower’s got enough juice to light up half of Martinaise, and the modulator’s mostly not fried."
The EMH stepped forward, studying the setup with a critical eye. His fingers passed through the control panel at first before he focused, solidifying just enough to trace the circuits.
EMH (nodding)
"It’ll work. But I’ll need direct contact with the primary transmitter."
JEAN (leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed)
"Oh, great. So we’re just letting the ghost robot merge with our comms now?"
HARRY (clapping Jean on the back)
"Relax, Jean! Worst case, we get haunted radio. Think of the ambiance."
KIM (ignoring them, to the EMH)
"What do you need us to do?"
The EMH took a breath he didn’t need.
EMH
"Nothing. Just... stand back."
He reached for the tower’s central node...and the moment his hand made contact, his entire form erupted into a cascade of golden light. The tower groaned, then shrieked as feedback surged through it, sparks dancing along the metal. The precinct’s windows below them flashed like strobes.
HARRY (shielding his eyes, yelling over the noise)
"DOC?!"
For a heartbeat, the EMH was gone...dissolved into the current. Then, like a film reel snapping into focus, he reformed...solid, stable, and blinking in astonishment.
The tower’s hum settled into a steady, healthy purr.
EMH (examining his hands...no flicker)
"...It worked."
MACK (whistling low)
"Well. That’s a first."
KIM (smirking, just a little)
"Welcome to the RCM, Doctor."
HARRY (grinning, throwing his arms wide)
"Boom! Mystery solved! Now...who’s up for waffles?"
Somewhere above them, beyond the clouds, beyond even the Pale, a starship’s comm system pinged...just once...with a signal it couldn’t trace.
EXT. PRECINCT 41 ROOFTOP – NIGHT
The EMH stood motionless for a long moment, his fingers still pressed against the radio tower's humming metal. The glow from the precinct's floodlights painted his face in stark relief...sharper now, more real than he'd been since appearing in Revachol.
HARRY (grinning like a madman)
"Doc. Doc. You're glowing. Like, literally glowing. Not in a 'radiation poisoning' way...more like a... a divine intervention way. Or maybe a really fancy streetlamp."
EMH (raising an eyebrow)
"Fascinating analysis, Detective."
KIM (stepping closer, studying the tower)
"So you're... stable now?"
The EMH flexed his hands experimentally. No flicker. No static.
EMH
"For the moment. The tower's acting as an anchor...but it's a temporary solution at best." He tapped the insignia on his chest. "My program isn't meant to run on 20th-century radio equipment indefinitely."
MACK (snorting)
"Yeah, well, neither is anything else in this precinct, but we make it work."
A sudden crackle from the tower's speakers made everyone jump. A voice...distorted, fragmented...spat out of the static:
DISTORTED VOICE
"...any station... this is USS Voyager... repeat..."
The EMH's head snapped up.
EMH (urgent)
"That's my ship!"
HARRY (immediately grabbing the nearest microphone)
"Hello?! Space friends?! We've got your doctor! He's..."
KIM (swiftly yanking the mic away)
"Harry, no."
The EMH was already at the controls, his hands moving with practiced precision. "Let me."
He adjusted the frequency, the speakers screeching in protest. The voice came through clearer now...but still broken, like a transmission fighting its way through a storm.
VOYAGER CREWMAN
"...EMH... if you're receiving... temporal rift... coordinates..."
The EMH's expression turned grim. "They're trying to pull me back. But the window's closing." He turned to Harry and Kim. "I have to go. Now."
HARRY (blinking)
"Wait...what?! But we just..."
KIM (cutting in, pragmatic)
"How long do you have?"
The EMH's form was already beginning to pixelate at the edges, golden light peeling away like embers in the wind.
EMH
"Seconds."
HARRY (suddenly serious)
"Then listen. If the Pale can spit you out here once, it can do it again. So you better come back, got it? We owe you a drink. A real one. Not crappy instant coffee."
The EMH smirked...just for a moment...before the light engulfed him entirely.
EMH
"Engage."
And then...
He was gone.
The tower fell silent. The night air hung heavy.
JEAN (breaking the quiet)
"...Well. That happened."
MACK (shaking his head)
"I need a drink."
KIM (sighing, but smiling faintly)
"Let's go inside, Harry."
But Harry was still staring at the spot where the EMH had vanished, his expression unreadable.
HARRY (softly)
"Yeah. Yeah, okay."
As they turned to leave, none of them noticed the tiny golden spark still clinging to the tower's wiring...or the way the precinct's radios would, for weeks after, occasionally pick up a faint, impossible signal...
...singing opera.
FIN.