Lunatics, all of them. Certifiable.
Now don't get me wrong, I love Daniel, I really do, and I'm grateful beyond words for him getting me this job, but I swear to god everyone here is insane. Either that or they're on drugs. What's our country coming to, that these are the people with higher security clearance than I can apparently be trusted with?
My first week on base, I hadn't even finished setting up my lab, I go to the mess hall for lunch and there's Daniel and his team sitting at a table with, like, every dessert in the free world piled on the table in front of them, and the colonel's practically having orgasms over the yogurt. I tried to take a chocolate pudding -- who knew Carter had such a vicious backhand? You'd think it was her first-born the way she snatched it back.
I saw her later that day walking down the hall talking to herself; I mean really talking to herself, she's having a whole conversation with the empty air next to her, pausing in all the right spots for some Harvey or something to respond, and the general just shakes his head fondly with this indulgent little grin. Okay, so she's some physics genius, I'm sure the R&D folks don't care about her sanity, and higher-level quantum mechanics does in fact require a certain disconnection from reality, but still -- this woman's a Major? Usually they keep her locked up in her lab, even the military isn't stupid enough to put a gun in her hand.
I once heard her tell Daniel she found out something about Thor that no one else knows, she's talking like he beamed her up Scottie, and Daniel just looks thrilled and fascinated and ... he takes these things at face value. It wouldn't surprise me if next she claimed to be Aphrodite. Well, to hear Simmons talk she is, but that's not my point. She's a nut!
Newsflash, physichick -- when Oppenheimer said he'd become Shiva, it was JUST A METAPHOR!
I brown-bagged it after that; go to work, go straight to my lab, don't leave the room until it's time to go home. Daniel would bring me stuff to work on, and I made it a point to spend as little time as possible with anyone else on base. I don't even know where they find all this crap -- and most of it is crap. Supposed 4th dynasty papyri that carbon-dates to less than 300 years. Anasazi pottery, unbroken and with the paint still wet. A Ming vase with runic inscriptions (very well done, that one -- I'd love to know how they got the glaze right). My personal favorite was the Etruscan tilework depicting an Olmec jaguar god. I shudder to think how much tax money is spent on this dreck; then again, if the military's going to spend $400 each for wrenches and $2500 for toilet seats, at least this stuff has some aesthetic value.
Then Daniel goes missing, and they bring me a crystal skull they want me to use to find him. They say it's a teleportation device. Right. It's a very pretty paperweight, nice workmanship, but there's no mechanism here. It's just a carved piece of crystal, I guarantee it didn't send anyone anywhere. It's identical to the skull Ballard found in Belize some 30 years ago, but so what? "Don't look into its eyes," they tell me, "that's how we lost Daniel." I don't bother to point out that thousands of people have gazed into the eyes of the one on display in the Smithsonian, and don't you think someone would have said something if tourists were disappearing into thin air from national museums? The look of sheer panic on Carter's face when she caught me staring at it, I think she honestly believed I might vanish just from looking at it. I mentioned she's bonkers, right? She's offended by my insistence on rationalism; she thinks *I'm* the crazy one for not buying into this theory.
O'Neill, now, he wouldn't mind at all if I vanished -- he's had it in for me ever since I complimented him on his funky little tourist-shop imitation-aztec tchotchkes. I don't know what his problem is; all I said was those are good quality counterfeits, he gets all huffy and says they're not fakes, they're entirely, completely 100% authentic and they're his and who was I to suggest ... well anyway, we're not gonna be friends. And the big guy, the one that looks like a linebacker, I don't know if Teal'c is a first name or last name, it's all he goes by, he says he saw the skull create an energy field. Now I know for a fact that's not possible, and every instrument in the lab backs me up, the thing is crystal for god's sake, it's not radioactive. But he insists, and they all believe him. Even the general wants me to play along. Humor him, he says. Okay, fine, I can do that. This is the caliber of people we're depending on to keep the world safe for democracy.
Anyway, I couldn't tell them what they wanted to hear about the skull, so who do they bring in to help out but Nicholas Ballard himself. They had to break him out of a mental hospital to get him here, but hey -- if Robert's not crazy enough, let's find a delusional obsessive and really let him go to town. He spins some fantasy about giant misty
Mayan-speaking aliens and O'Neill wants to know did I find that useful. Well, no, I didn't. He snorts at me in complete disgust, sends Nick to a VIP room, and Carter takes the skull to wherever it is she works. A couple of levels down, I think, but of course my security clearance isn't high enough to ever set foot in the place.
I'm not quite sure what happened after that, but a couple of days later Daniel showed up at my office for a visit. He wouldn't say where he'd been, just that no, he didn't teleport, he was invisible. I never did understand that boy's sense of humor. And I never saw Nick again, I guess they must have taken him back to the asylum. They should have all gone with him, and stayed there. It seems Carter and the others must have complained about me, 'cause Daniel knew every word of the discussions we'd had about that damned skull, and he had a really odd tone of voice when we talked about it, like I'd disappointed him somehow. He said skeptical is good, looking for evidence is good, but maybe I needed to use a little more imagination sometimes. I try not to take offense. Consider the source; this is a man who thinks Egyptians didn't build the pyramids.
I didn't see much of Daniel for awhile after that; he got involved in a series of Top Secret Super Secret Ultra Super-Duper Secret Secret things and was gone a lot. I didn't even hear about his appendix until he was mostly recovered. My work assignments were delivered and picked up by this new guy, Nyan. Another one-named mystery. I asked him once where he got his degree, I've never heard a more awkward evasion in my life. I doubt he even has a degree. He's probably somebody's nephew; why else would Daniel accept an assistant who doesn't recognize terms like Inca or Summerian? He drew a blank at the word "Mesopotamia." But he's got a higher security clearance than me, too.
Then just last week, I was in town getting a steak. There's this place, O'Malley's, it's kind of popular on base. It's close enough to get to on a dinner break, affordable even for the lower ranks, they keep long hours. Anyway, there I am eating my dinner, when Danny walks in with Carter and O'Neill, they've got this real focused look on their faces, I don't think they even saw me. They get three steaks apiece -- those 16-ouncers that overflow the plate -- the waitress had to pile half the food on a nearby table 'cause there just wasn't room for it all. And they ate it! All of it! Again with the food, do they have tapeworms or something? They get a whole slew of deserts, too, and this time I know better than to even try to touch any of it. I don't even go over to say hello. I just watch from across the room while they eat a world-record size dinner and then, on the way out, Daniel picks a bar fight with half a dozen local yokels.
Yeah, you heard me right, Daniel. Sweet, gentle, "violence is the last refuge of the incompetent" Daniel. He throws the first punch, and the second, Carter and O'Neill certainly did their share but I'd swear it was Daniel who put that bruiser through the front window -- next thing I know the place is crawling with cops, and EMTs, and there's all these flashing red and blue lights in the parking lot, then the MPs are there, the furniture is kindling, and I just want to slink out of there pretending I don't even know them. I heard later the Air Force picked up the tab for most of the damage, but the three of them are banned for life. It's a shame, too, the next closest decent restaurant is another 10 minutes further down the road.
I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to stay with this job. It definitely has its upside -- I get all the equipment and books and supplies I could ever want without have to waste time dealing with grants committees, interesting projects are delivered right to my desk without my having to go look for them, I get a nice steady paycheck with major medical and dental. But I don't think I'm crazy enough to ever really fit in around here. They're all just weird. Daniel says I should stick it out awhile longer, that my background check's fine, they've had 6 months to observe me and I should be getting a higher clearance soon; and he swears I'll want to stay forever once I find out about the stuff they haven't been able to tell me yet. We'll just see about that.
Any and all feedback welcome.
July 15, 2001 © The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.