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Okay, LaForge, don’t lose your head. It’s just a proposition. A pretty confusing, pretty amazing proposition.
It happened because of a poor (or, Geordi thought, maybe not) choice of words in Engineering. The warp core had experienced a near breach of the dilithium chamber. All personnel rushed frantically to stabilize it, but it continued to no avail. LaForge was on the brink of ordering all hands to evacuate.
Then, all of a sudden, his best friend, Lt. Cmdr Data, had done his usual thing— thought of something ingenious. In essence, he successfully caught the warp core in a transporter beam, freezing its molecules for the last seconds needed to defuse the reactor and bring all levels back to normal.
The entire crew at first was struck silent, shocked they didn’t reach their demise. Then, a wave of celebration took hold. Crew members hugged one another, laughed and shouted, thanking the stars they were alive. It was during this flustered joy of newfound survival that Geordi spun Data around, grabbed him by both arms, and exalted, “Data, I could kiss you!”
He could remember in detail that reaction that was so endearingly Data’s— first a look of sheer puzzlement, then the cursory scan from left to right that he usually used when accessing a hundred different databases of information. But before the android could respond, Geordi was already reeling in the excited team and handing out orders. The crew hummed along to secure the repairs. Data resumed work. And after that moment, everything seemed to start returning to normal.
But are things ever normal on this ship?
Geordi stayed in his quarters that night. He had enough excitement that day; he wasn’t up to going to Ten Forward and talking to more people, answering the barrage of questions about how it was done. It was tempting, of course— as are most moments when he gets to gush over Data’s problem solving abilities— but the tiredness in him won out.
He was reading a steampunk novel with his feet kicked up on the coffee table. It was based on the real life of Ada Lovelace, one of the first engineers in the ancient world. She made the first operating computer. Except in this world, she also apprehended Victorian crime syndicates by using the computer to crack cases. He was just getting to the end of the chapter when he heard the familiar chime of the door signal.
“Come on in,” he said, still looking down at the book.
Light flooded in from the hallway. It wasn’t just because the hallway was bright— it didn’t seem to dim at all during simulated night time— but because Data was standing there. Geordi’s visor renders most modest machinery in an array of varying lights with his infrared vision. Data, composed of the most intricate machinations Geordi has ever appreciated, literally beamed with gold. A constant halo followed him wherever he went, and to Geordi, it was absolutely brilliant. He almost regretted that he was the only person who could see Data like that.
“Hello, Geordi.”
“Data,” Geordi said, a smile immediately flickering across his face. He set the book down on the couch. “If I didn’t know better, I’d tell you to go back to sleep. Don’t forget we got a shift at sixteen hundred hours.”
Data raised his eyebrows. “You are aware that it is impossible for me to forget. May I have a seat?”
“Of course.”
Data took a seat opposite to him on one of the lounge chairs. He folded himself up neatly, lacing his fingers in the space between his knees. His stature was calm and composed. And yet the lights of his neural networks firing in Geordi’s infrared vision betrayed some kind of heightened awareness on his part, like he was in the middle of something that required much deliberation. That positronic brain of his is working overtime, Geordi thought.
The engineer ventured forward. “Everything alright?”
“Yes, it is ‘all right’.” He paused. “May I ask you a question of a personal nature?”
Geordi chuckled. “Data, you and I are best friends. You can always be personal with me.”
“At eleven hundred hours in Engineering, shortly after the stabilization of the warp core, you said that you ‘could kiss’ me. I was curious if that is still something you would try.”
Geordi froze. He has navigated through a lot of awkward conversations with Data before. Questions like, How is my poetry? What does it mean to be caught “with one’s pants down”? Why does Riker insist that I go to Risa? But he had to accept that this proposition was in a league of its own.
And the fact that Geordi had been secretly wishing something like this would happen was not really helping. He couldn’t navigate rationally through what could very well be an innocent and misled proposition when he had, well, biases of his own. However, he certainly didn’t want to take advantage of Data. Geordi didn’t want anything to do with it if Data was merely trying to fulfill some expectation or comply with another person’s wishes. He had to explain the idiomatic language while also maybe confessing to the truth within it.
“Data— I don’t… where to start with this…” He got up from the couch, paced slowly around the dining room table. “Data, the expression, ‘I could kiss you’—” he held out his hands, “— that’s a thing that people say when they’re, like, overjoyed with someone and want to express it.”
Data tilted his head, considering this. “So it was not a proposition; it was a figure of speech.”
“Well, I mean, yes, but…” he shook his head. His heart was pounding. “I mean, I wouldn’t… if it isn’t…do you want to kiss me?”
Data blinked. “It would be very intriguing.”
“Intriguing in what kind of way?” Geordi said, crossing his arms.
“I find that the habit of kissing others interests me. It seems that it creates a connection that other gestures cannot similarly achieve. I have wanted to endeavor to understand it, yet I do not possess much experience. In addition, Geordi, the idea of kissing you is very amenable to me because you are my friend.”
Geordi’s arms dropped to his sides. “Friends don’t usually kiss, Data.” He walked back toward the direction of the couch.
Data’s eyes followed him. “I have three hundred and forty six cultural examples of kissing between friends across systems in this star sector.” He analyzed Geordi’s facial expression and determined that another line of reasoning might be in order. “I also find it worthy of acknowledgement that most people and entities who have kissed romantically were, by definition, initially engaged in a strong friendship.”
Geordi, completely winded by all of this, returned to the couch and sunk down into it. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but was completely incredulous. Every time he thought he’d get closer to understanding Data, it only led to more questions. He wants to kiss me because I’m his friend? Because kissing is interesting? He rubbed his forehead with his fingers.
Data looked at Geordi with his brows furrowed. “I have still not ascertained a certain answer from you about whether you would be interested. However, if I can correctly draw an inference from your physical cues, you appear to be hesitant, and so I will take that as a declination. To use a manner of speaking, we can ‘act like this never happened’.”
Data got up from his chair.
Through Geordi’s visor, he could see that brilliant, beaming light approaching the door. Come on, LaForge!
He got out of his seat, his legs feeling like molecules in a transporter beam– practically coming apart at every minute. Just as the door opened, he grabbed Data by the arm. The android turned around, looking at him with curiosity. Minding the open door, he took one step further into the quarters to shut it again.
“Data,” Geordi said, almost breathlessly, “Data, yes, I would like to kiss you.” I’ve been wanting to kiss you. For a while. “But I just need to know if you’re certain.”
Data considered that and shifted his head slightly. “Since the occurrence,” he began softly, “the memory file of your words in Engineering has replayed in my mind four thousand, seven hundred and sixty-three times. I am reasonably certain that I desire to see their outcome.”
I desire to see their outcome. And what kind of desire was that, exactly? Was he simply interested in conducting another experiment in humanity? In testing a hypothesis? In all likelihood, Geordi was just a safe person with whom he could practice, a well-trusted lab partner. But he could also not ignore the possibility that there were other reasons, reasons more like Geordi’s. I desire to see their outcome. What a strange and wonderful word for him to use— desire.
Geordi wanted to ask Data about this, but decided it was, however interesting, ultimately not significant. They both want to kiss. So what if it’s for different reasons? If it turned out to be just another attempt to mimic human nature, then Geordi was happy to help. It didn’t matter what he felt about Data– he was his friend, and he’d help him with anything.
“Alright then,” Geordi said. He realized how close Data was to him then. He took off his visor and set it on the table nearby. Everything was dark now, and he felt as though he were adrift. Suddenly, as if reading his mind, Data gently held Geordi’s arms as if to anchor him– to provide him with a sense of space.
“May I?” Data said. Geordi flinched– the voice was practically next to his ear. Apparently Data’s face was already brushing against his.
Geordi was able to get over the tingling in his spine and stammer out a “Yes.”
Seconds passed suspended in time, unbearably long and full of uncertainty. And then, all of a sudden, he felt Data’s lips against his. They were unmistakably Data’s, the bioplast firmer than human skin, but it had a surprising softness to it, and there was a warmth there from the capillaries of biofluid running underneath.
Geordi noted that he had a particular scent. It was like ozone, the chemical compound created when lightning heats the atmosphere during a rainstorm. The kiss was clumsy, with their noses pressed into each other’s cheek, but my God, Geordi thought, it was electrifying.
Data gingerly pulled away.
“Was that acceptable?” he asked. Always so formal.
Geordi nodded in assent, at a loss for words. This time, Geordi took Data’s jaw in his hands and pulled him close. They delved into another kiss, less stiff and awkward than the last. Geordi’s lips pulled and molded against Data’s, teaching him wordlessly.
They stopped when Geordi needed air. He could not see Data’s expression, but he noted the sound of breathlessness in the android’s voice when he said, “Fascinating.”
Geordi suddenly laughed. Fascinating indeed. “How’d that feel?” he asked.
“When I was in contact with your skin, I felt a three hundred percent increase of sensitivity in my tactile sensors, and the rate of my biofluid pumping increased to one hundred and fifty beats per minute. My respiratory rate has also increased considerably. Geordi, I feel…” He stopped himself. “It is enjoyable.”
Geordi chuckled and pulled Data in again. But before their lips touched, Data asked softly, “Is it enjoyable for you?”
It finally struck Geordi that this was not an experiment for Data. He was not merely curious about his own reactions and what the human experience would seem like for him. He wanted to know if Geordi was getting pleasure from it. I mean, he always knew Data was considerate, but this was opening a channel for something… reciprocal.
Geordi lightly traced his fingers down Data’s neck. “Yes, it’s very enjoyable. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to give you some pointers to make it even better for both of us.”
“That would be very helpful, Geordi.”
“I want you to try moving your lips more. Feel what I’m doing and try to mirror me. And Data,” he chuckled, “It’s okay to apply a good thirty percent more pressure to my lips. You won’t hurt me, I promise.”
“Noted.”
They kissed. This time, Geordi was consciously showing Data what to do, tilting his head slightly for him and letting his lips tenderly push and pull Data’s, until he could feel Data mirroring it back, that same lovely rhythm. Geez, he was a fast learner. He probably has his eyes open, Geordi thought. He learns by watching. That thought was inexplicably hot– for Geordi to be gazed at.
This time Data seemed conscious of Geordi’s diminishing breath and pulled away first. “How long may we continue? I would gladly practice this many more times with you.”
Geordi’s laughter bubbled forth. “I’m telling you right now, Data, I could do this all night. And that would be an understatement.”
“Very well,” Data said, and his lips brushed against Geordi’s again.
“But,” Geordi cut in, with his last iota of good sense and reason, “Our shift starts in five hours. I think it might be impossible, but I need to get some rest.”
Data blinked. “The desire for further time with me is an inhibitor to sleep?”
“When you’ve got something— or someone— on your mind, yes, it makes sleeping hard. But let’s… keep doing this. If it’s what you’d like, too.”
“I would like it.” Data said. “I have not experienced input like this before. I believe it is creating new neural pathways in my positronic brain. It… is a fascinating experience.” He gingerly handed Geordi his visor.
When Geordi put his visor on, he could see the effect that he’d had on Data. His biofluid was pumping fast, like he’d said, and there was an especially warm light in his prefrontal cortex. If he were a human, Geordi would definitely infer that he was experiencing a state close to bliss. Or attraction.
Before Data left, he turned around to look at Geordi. “Thank you, Geordi. I will see you again in five hours and twenty seven minutes.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” Geordi smiled. The light around Data disappeared behind the door.
Alone in his quarters again, Geordi lightly ran his hand down the side of his lower face. He found his way back to the couch, with his book still tossed to the side. As he sat down, he contemplated the last ten minutes in a haze. No way I’m going to sleep tonight, he thought.
“A fascinating experience,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head. The possibilities in that phrase were countless. What exactly did he mean by that? As his engineer and basically doctor, Geordi knew more about Data than anyone else on the ship. He understood that, though Data himself insisted he lacked human emotions, that he was becoming capable of experiencing complex input and having a reaction that is close to feeling.
Geordi often considered that Data’s experiences are always filtered and evaluated through the human lens. But if it was authentic for him— if he feels fascinated— who are we to say that’s real or not? Data’s mechanical processes are just as valid, just as tangible and meaningful as our own processes in our neural pathways. Geordi knew better than most that humans are just bundles of energy, electricity snapping back and forth. Data is not human— but he is a person. A person that enjoys kissing Geordi.
With reluctance, he turned off the overhead lights and got into bed.