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100 Reasons why Spock is better than Data

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89. Spock played his Vulcan lyre with a bunch of hippies--and retained his



Man...I don't know how these lists keep cropping up. :dev:

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Footsteps echo in the judgment chamber. Curious yellow eyes, set into a golden face, absorb the detail from Earth's Post-Atomic Era. "Intriguing" is his only word.




The new arrival emerges from shadow, dressed in a blue uniform shirt, with ears tapering to graceful points. "I am Commander Spock. Who are you, and why have you brought me here?"


"My name is Data, and the more appropriate question is, who has brought us here?"


There is a flash, and a puckish figure dressed as a Starfleet captain appears on the judge's throne. "Me. You know me already, Data, but Spock doesn't. I'm Q, your basic omnipotent life form. I've brought you through time, and Data through space, for amusement--mine, and a few of my friends."


The judgment chamber suddenly fills with post-apocalyptic spectators, jeering, shaking their fists, consumed with unslaked blood lust. Most of them wear soiled and tattered "WWWF Ground Zero" t-shirts.


"And so amusing you are," Q continues. "The humanoid who aspires to be a machine, and the machine who aspires to be a humanoid. Befitting that, I've come up with three very entertaining contests. Best two out of three wins."


Q snaps his fingers. Part of the darkness recedes to reveal a long row of three-dimensional chess boards. "First, the test of intellect. Twelve simultaneous games of chess, blindfolded, with a two-hour limit for all your moves. Don't ask what I'll feed you to if you go long."


Another snap, and a stage is floodlit, with a rumbling from surrounding tables that rivals the bestial snarls of the spectators. "Second, and my favorite, the test of sense of humor. Whoever gets the best response during a ten-minute stand-up comedy routine wins this one. You'll have as your audience an assortment of Borg drones, English soccer hooligans, and several dozen clones of an obscure 20th-century comedienne named Roseanne." Q rubs his hands gleefully. "I can hardly wait."


One more snap summons a pair of captain's chairs. "Last, the test of leadership. You'll command identical starships in combat against each other. First one to kill or capture the opposing captain wins." The howls of glee rise to a crescendo around him. "They wanted a little blood. I'm happy to oblige."


"Q, abduction and coercion are highly immoral," Data says. "We will not perform at your command."


"I am a Vulcan, bred to peace," Spock likewise avers. "I will not kill to satisfy your whim."


"Moralizing to the last," Q sniffs. "Well, I can't disappoint the spectators. If you won't fight, I'll just have to leave you here with them for all eternity, as they argue over which of you would have won."


Spock and Data consider their options, and immediately reach a joint conclusion. "Mister Spock, I regret to inform you that your gluteal folds are grass."


"Correction. It will require 47.3358 man-hours to reassemble your pieces."


"Wonderful!" Q cries. "Let the games begin!"



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