Ship's Psychologist

“Doctor Flórez?” 

I jerked my head up, disrupting the pile of books and tablets which had tilted against me. “I'm up!” I yelled, realizing that the voice had come from the comms too late. I coughed, then thumbed the button at my throat. “Flórez here. Go ahead.”

“Elliot, we've got a problem with one of the doors, corridor sixteen, Ops deck,” Commander Billingsly said. He sounded exhausted, maybe even a little unnerved. I thought about advising he take some down-time.

“Shouldn't that be something that engineering deals with, Commander?”

“It says it's concerned about its emotional well-being.”

I could hear the door in the background, sobbing quietly to itself. “I'll be up there as soon as I can, sir.”

I grabbed a tablet, brushed a hand through my hair, and left my office in the state which I had entered it. 16-Ops was up two and aft, but since the closest lift was fore I opted to take a short-cut through the maintenance tubes, waving at an engineer who, despite being busy with a plasma torch, smiled and waved back. “Busy day, doc?”

“Always.”

I emerged from the tubes at 14-Ops, giving me plenty of time to adjust my uniform and greet a pair of ensigns, who were impressively unperturbed by my sudden appearance, before arriving at the correct corridor. Jacob was waiting for me, waving me over as I turned the corner. “That was quick,” he said, eyeballing me.

“When duty calls,” I replied. “Another glitch in Rhonda's system, I assume?”

“I am not a glitch!” the door replied, opening and closing in a convincing approximation of moving lips. “I am a thinking, feeling entity and I demand respect!”

“I apologize, sir. Forgive me. My name is Elliot Flórez Weinberg, doctor of psychology and philosophy. How can I help you?”

The commander gave me a slight nod, which I returned, and moved away to let me do my job.

The door gave a metallic approximation of a sigh. “Finally, someone who can understand. Someone who knows. Someone who won't just walk through me without giving me even the remotest consideration.”

“So you feel disrespected. Unappreciated.”

“Yes! Just once I'd like a 'hello' or a 'thank you', or just a wave and a nod for my efforts. Instead it's just open-close-open-close-open-close-opencloseopencloseopenclose~”

The door fizzled, slightly, before stopping. The lights dimmed for a moment before buzzing back to life. I thumbed my comms. “Uh, can someone~”

“Sorry, doc; that was me.”

Julie. “Any reason you decided to kill my patient, Lieutenant?”

“I got the call to fix the system first, got told just as I was cutting the connections. Sorry.”

It was my turn to sigh. “Door?”

Nothing. Comms. “Did you reset the system already?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, yes, you've killed a sentient being. Good job. I'm going back to bed.”

Somewhere in the background, before Lieutenant Harrison released her comms, someone said “Don't let the desk give you a headache, doc.”