Meeting Chekov or is it Checkoff?

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“So, when did you get enrolled?” The Russian student asks, waving his hand in my way. “Helloo; anyone zere?  Nod if you can hear my woice.”

  I shook my head.

“Did I miss anything?” I ask; but then I recognized him as the Russian guy who’s in the gifs on tumblr saying ‘I can do zat!’ like he is a holy fudging genius—which he is, to be very honest—and then my jaw drops. He’s also one of the hottie dorks/nerds/cool guys in Star Trek. No actually; cross that out, he’s just too adorable.

    The Vulcans sent me here to StarFleet academy; figuring I had only a minor concussion that got me some unknown knowledge that came from listening to other people’s conversations. They said I was going there anyway. Which is not the  answer; it’s not logical to figure I can listen into conversations. What do they think I am? Do they think I am half Vulcan, half human? They might be over paranoid for all I care!

   “Nothing zat’s awaliable for signing up.”  The Russian student said. He held his hand out. “I amChekov, Pavel Andreievich, it’s only Chekov.”

 “Funny.” I shook his hand. “I’m Clenaut; it’s pronounced Kle-aunt.”

We stopped shaking hands.

“Check off or Chekov?” I ask.

“Chekov.” Chekov said.

“Not like Check?” I drill at him more with two questions. ”Like you are checking off a bucket list?”

 Chekov laughs; we were going to a dashboard training class with some other students.

“Sort of, Klenaut.”

  There are a couple other adults there but I didn’t recognize anyone among them. I’ve been here for a month!  And can you guess what I have not seen? I have not met Kirk, yet.  Guess my timing is a bit off.  What a downer; except for the Transporting classes, they are totally a breeze.  It seems to me that Chekov is ready to be on the USS  enterprise.

  “How long hawe  you been in zee academy?”  Chekov asks.

  “A month.”

 “Only a month?”

 “Yes.”

We sat down at a desk right across from the teacher’s desk; it seems to be solar powered because  the screen flickers.

“So; I would like to know.  .  .  if this academy  had Klingon’s enrolled.”

 Chekov laughs my comment off as though I was kidding. The bell rings its usual annoying, dreadful screech.

 “A   kold day on Earth zat will ever happen.” Chekov said; as the teacher pulls up a tab on the large computer.

 I smile.

 “Logically, it’ll happen on a hot earth day after loads of tension and battle.” I shift my attention from the young Russian to the teacher who was giving some valuable instructions to using these newly installed dashboards into the newer model of an enterprise.  I make a doodle of the enterprise then the picture of that blind African American from Picard’s generation.  

  The Teacher, Mr. Lenny Joules, taps on my desk.

 “Do you have something to share with the class, Miss Clenaut?” Mr.Joules asks, tapping on my picture.

I look up to see Mr Joules with that unusual side burn.

  “No.” I said.  Then I see a problem with the screen. There is a long, zig-zag-goon resembled shape right across the screen beginning at the left hand corner. “But  .   .    .You can’t work with a computer screen that is cracked in half with a really out dated browser. It is not logical to work with .  .  .”

 “Browser?” Mr.Joules raises an eyebrow at me. “This is not a browser. It’s a Search engine. “

 The entire class shares an awkward silence.

“It’s been forty-three years since we last used Browsers.” Mr..Joules adds.

 “It still isn’t logical to be using old software.” I argue back.

Mr.Joules put the picture on the big screen that I had doodled.

“And that is the USS enterprise.” Mr.Joules uses my artwork as an example. “It’s been slated to be under the command of Captain Pikes; one day, later this year, some of you will be onboard that ship.” Some girls could be drooling at the picture of that dude with a ring-shaped visor until Joules glides it off the screen. “I expect that all of you live to see that day.”

 He meant that last part to me.

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