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2025-06-09
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Novel Subroutines

Summary:

"Working late again?" Geordi approached, his voice carrying the easy familiarity of their long friendship, though underneath lay an uncertainty he couldn't quite name.

Data's golden eyes lifted, and for a microsecond  —  so brief a human might have missed it  —  his expression held something unguarded. "Geordi. I was... composing."

"Poetry?" The chief engineer settled into the adjacent chair, noting how Data's grip on the PADD had tightened almost imperceptibly. "Mind if I listen?"

A pause. In all their years of friendship, Data had never hesitated to share his creative endeavors. His pursuit of humanity included an earnest exploration of artistic expression, from painting to music to verse. But now, something flickered across his features  —  an approximation of vulnerability that seemed both calculated and utterly genuine.

"This particular composition is... different," Data said finally. "It concerns emotional states I am attempting to understand."

Notes:

this is my first real Daforge fic (my first one was a poetry thing) So I hope this turned out okay

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The soft hum of the Enterprise's engines provided a familiar backdrop as Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge made his way through the corridors toward Ten Forward. His shift had ended hours ago, but sleep remained elusive  —  a recurring pattern that had intensified over the past several weeks. The source of his restlessness waited for him in the observation lounge, though neither of them had acknowledged the deeper currents that had begun to flow between them.

Data sat precisely where Geordi expected to find him, silhouetted against the starfield, his pale fingers moving across a PADD with characteristic precision. The android's posture suggested concentration, yet something in the subtle tension of his shoulders indicated an internal process more complex than routine data analysis.

"Working late again?" Geordi approached, his voice carrying the easy familiarity of their long friendship, though underneath lay an uncertainty he couldn't quite name.

Data's golden eyes lifted, and for a microsecond  —  so brief a human might have missed it  —  his expression held something unguarded. "Geordi. I was... composing."

"Poetry?" The chief engineer settled into the adjacent chair, noting how Data's grip on the PADD had tightened almost imperceptibly. "Mind if I listen?"

A pause. In all their years of friendship, Data had never hesitated to share his creative endeavors. His pursuit of humanity included an earnest exploration of artistic expression, from painting to music to verse. But now, something flickered across his features  —  an approximation of vulnerability that seemed both calculated and utterly genuine.

"This particular composition is... different," Data said finally. "It concerns emotional states I am attempting to understand."

Geordi's VISOR detected the slight elevation in Data's internal temperature, the minute fluctuations in his bio-electric field that might indicate what humans would call nervousness. "Data, you know you can share anything with me, right?"

The android's head tilted in that familiar gesture of consideration. For 3.7 seconds, he remained motionless  —  an eternity in Data's processing capabilities. When he spoke, his voice carried a quality Geordi had never heard before: uncertainty laced with something that might have been hope.

"I have been experiencing... irregularities in my programming when in your presence, Geordi. Subroutines activate without conscious command. My sensory inputs become hyperacute, yet simultaneously filtered through what I can only describe as a selective focus that prioritizes your proximity, your expressions, the modulation of your voice."

Geordi felt his breath catch. "Data..."

"I attempted to analyze these phenomena through artistic expression." Data's fingers moved across the PADD with minute tremors  —  so small they might have been imperceptible to organic sensors, but Geordi's enhanced vision caught every subtle movement. "The result was... unexpected."

The silence stretched between them, filled with the weight of unspoken possibilities. Outside the viewport, stars wheeled in their ancient patterns, indifferent to the quiet revolution occurring in the observation lounge.

"Would you... would you like to hear it?" Data's voice carried a careful modulation that somehow conveyed both scientific curiosity and something far more personal.

Geordi nodded, not trusting his voice.

Data's eyes fixed on some point beyond Geordi's shoulder as he began to recite, his voice taking on the careful cadence he used for his poetry:

"In circuits vast where logic dwells,
Where algorithms trace their perfect lines,
A fault appears  —  or is it truth?  — 
That short-circuits rational design.

Your laughter breaks through binary code,
Your presence overwrites my core;
I need not learn how to love,
For I feel it when I see you.

What humans call the heart's domain
I find in servo's gentle whir,
In positronic dreams I never knew
Could harbor such sweet disarray."

The final words hung in the air between them like a bridge neither had expected to build. Geordi felt the poem settle into something deep within his chest  —  a resonance that seemed to align perfectly with feelings he'd been carrying but never dared to name.

"Data," he said quietly, and the word seemed to contain multitudes.

The android's gaze finally met his, and in those golden eyes Geordi saw something that transcended the binary limitations of artificial existence. It was raw, uncertain, and utterly real.

"I am aware that my capacity for emotion remains a subject of scientific debate," Data said with careful precision. "However, the subjective experience of these... irregularities... feels indistinguishable from what humans describe as affection. Deep affection."

Geordi reached out slowly, his hand covering Data's where it rested on the PADD. The android's skin felt warm  —  not the synthetic approximation of human temperature, but something that seemed to pulse with its own unique vitality.

"You know what I think?" Geordi's voice was barely above a whisper. "I think feelings don't need to be programmed to be real. And what you're feeling... what we're both feeling... it's as real as anything else in the universe."

Data's free hand rose with careful deliberation, fingers tracing the curve of Geordi's cheek with a gentleness that spoke to profound reverence rather than mere mechanical precision. "I find myself wanting to understand this feeling through more than mere analysis."

"What did you have in mind?"

Instead of answering immediately, Data leaned forward with that peculiar combination of mathematical precision and awkward humanity that characterized all his emotional explorations. The distance between them diminished until Geordi could feel the subtle electromagnetic field that surrounded the android's positronic matrix.

"I believe humans call this... a kiss," Data said softly, his voice carrying wonder at his own boldness.

"Yeah," Geordi breathed. "They do."

The moment their lips met, Geordi understood that he had been wrong about artificial versus organic emotion. What passed between them carried the weight of genuine feeling  —  Data's careful, wandering exploration of this new form of connection, and Geordi's own surprising recognition that his feelings for his closest friend had evolved into something deeper without his conscious awareness.

When they separated, Data's eyes held a light that seemed to come from within rather than merely reflecting external sources.

"Fascinating," the android whispered, and for once the clinical term carried no detachment. "The subjective experience creates feedback loops I had not anticipated. The physical sensation generates new subroutines that seem to... amplify the original emotional irregularities."

Geordi laughed softly, his hand still resting against Data's cheek. "Leave it to you to analyze our first kiss."

"Is that... inappropriate?"

"No, Data. It's perfectly you." Geordi's smile carried warmth that seemed to resonate in Data's optical sensors. "And I wouldn't want you any other way."

Data's head tilted in that familiar gesture of consideration, but now it seemed less calculated, more natural. "I believe I am beginning to understand why humans find poetry inadequate to describe their emotional experiences. The reality far exceeds the artistic approximation."

"Does that mean you'll stop writing poetry?"

"On the contrary," Data replied, his voice carrying a note of something that might have been contentment. "I believe I now have access to far richer source material."

As they sat together in the gentle starlight, hands intertwined, Geordi reflected on the unexpected paths that led to moments of perfect understanding. Data's pursuit of humanity had always been methodical, scientific  —  but this felt like something different. This felt like discovery of a truth that had existed before either of them had been ready to recognize it.

"Data?" Geordi said softly.

"Yes, Geordi?"

"That line in your poem  —  about not needing to learn how to love  —  I think you got it exactly right."

Data's fingers tightened gently around his, and in that simple gesture, Geordi felt the confirmation of something that transcended the boundaries between artificial and organic, between programmed responses and genuine emotion. Love, it seemed, was less about the substrate that generated it than about the recognition that passed between two beings who saw in each other something worth treasuring.

Outside the viewport, the stars continued their ancient dance, witness to yet another small miracle of life in the vast darkness of space

 

Notes:

don't forget to feed the writer