The Universe's Mixer

Being a cat, Jake was prone to prowling about The City at various times of day and night. Sure, he was an intellectual, as well. A scientist, even. With knowledge beyond that of many humans. But he was still a cat. Which meant that he had cat needs and cat desires. He liked to walk on fences (which he had made the habit of doing every night before bed.) He liked to chase mice (though he never ate them -- it was all in the sport.) And naturally, the mouse understood. He liked to sing songs in hopes of meeting a feminine feline. But, most of all, he liked to creep past the local fish market and see if there were any new trouts on display.

Jake could imagine that being a fisherman in The City would be difficult. What with everything moving around. But, as a cat, Jake was particularly pleased that the fisherman stayed in business. It was the one store that Jake never had trouble finding. The smell was just too overwhelming. And delicious. Mmm, it was so delicious. Heavenly.

His paws padded along the sidewalk as he made his way to the fish market. It was a small store with a glass front window. There the owner had already placed out tomorrow's selection on ice. Jake stood up on his hind legs and pressed his front paws and nose against the window. Snapper, cod, perch, and trout! Oh, and that trout looked delicious. He wondered if Jennifer would like it if he brought home a trout. It would be a nice change from tuna. Not that Jake was opposed to tuna. Oh no. He liked tuna very much. It was the greatest human invention he could think of! So rich, so juicy, so ... fishy. And in a can, no less! Quite a convenient contraption. Jake vowed that if he ever made it back home, he would introduce tuna to his people. It would be an instant sensation.

When Jake realized that he was drooling on the window, he dropped back down to the sidewalk and licked his lips. Delicious. He'd have to return during daylight hours to make a purchase. He could hardly wait. Oh, it was going to be the feast of--

He blinked. What was that? He stared up at the sky at what appeared to be a spacecraft. Another astronaut? How had he not realized this before? And it was massive. From where he was he couldn't even see the end of the ship's hull. Quite extraordinary! And it was flying! Well, hovering was more like it. But that was one step better than what his ship was doing. (Collecting moss.) He squinted his eyes to make out the writing on the side of the ship. U.S.S. Enter-something. He'd have to walk around the block to see the rest. But this certainly was quite fortuitous. If he could discover the identity of the ship's captain, perhaps the two of them could devise a means of fixing their crafts. Yes!

Jake ran back home. He'd have to tell Jennifer all about this!

"I require forty-eight centimeters of copper tubing, the circuit board of an early twenty-first century Earth computer, a television antennae, 2.73 grams of gold, four double A batteries, and a detonator for a thermal nuclear reactor. Any Earth power reactor will be sufficient on the reactor," Spock stated in perfect clarity to the clerk of one of The City's hardware stores.

The clerk, a young boy of maybe sixteen, just stared back at the half-Vulcan with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. Spock waited for approximately 8.3 seconds before he quirked his brow, cleared his throat, and restated his request. Still, the boy stared at him. The kid didn't know what to think. First of all, the man had pointed ears like some sort of elf. Now this really shouldn't have bothered him. A talking cat came in the other day asking for spare radio parts. But the pointy-eared man talked funny. Like, well, like a computer. And he had weird eyebrows (also pointy) and a funny haircut. And when the boy leaned forward to get a closer look, he could have sworn that the man had a greenish tint to his skin.

Spock wasn't one to show emotions. He understood that humans had an inane fascination with him. It was highly illogical. As far as humanoids went, there wasn't much difference between Terrans and Vulcans. At least, not on the outside. Vulcans were, naturally, more superior in strength, intelligence, and technological advances. But, being Vulcans, they prided themselves on not being overly egotistical about their breed. That wouldn't have been correct in the ways of Surak.

"Do you require a written list to assist you in retrieving these objects?" Spock asked.

"Uhm, no. I think we have the copper. And the batteries. Maybe the TV parts. But I know we ain't got no gold and definitely no thermal nuclear whatchamacallit," the boy replied, after finally getting over his shock.

"The detonator for a thermal nuclear reactor."

"Yeah, that. I'm pretty sure we ain't got that, mister. But we got a nice toaster oven on sale. It toasts four pieces of bread at once, and makes these nice little lines on the bread kinda like bacon swirls. You know? Those wavy lines?"

Spock was at a loss for understanding the common vernacular of this human. Why couldn't humans not speak clearly and succinctly? Certainly that was one of the universe's greatest mysteries.

"It would be appreciated if you could retrieve what items you do have."

"Yes, sir. I will check the stockroom. Just a minute," the boy said, scurrying off to the back of the store.

Spock remained beside the register, arms crossed over his blue Starfleet uniform. He would have to practice subduing his human half. It could be so impatient at times. But in an environment such as this, it was very difficult. Very difficult indeed.