New Beginnings from Old Wounds

Posted on Sat Aug 15th, 2020 @ 2:16pm by Lieutenant Bonnie "Bon-Bon" Durnell

Mission: Welcome Aboard!
Location: Earth

**Warning: possible political post**
(This may offend some readers)

New Beginnings from Old Wounds

She was alone. She stood in the place she had visited many times over, a place of quiet reflection. Before her displayed in lights, in a hallway few traversed, statues, dozens upon dozens of statues. Each endowed by their creators with a talent she was in awe of, a talent for creation of something from nothing. She had longed to create something of her career from a lusterless talent only to fall flat with each new endeavor.
In her quiet retrospection she almost didn’t hear his approach despite the heavy thud of his right heel as it struck the marble flooring of the otherwise silent museum, an old familiar wound. He stopped a foot or so behind her and waited for a moment before clearing his throat and speaking. “Thought I might find you here.” His resonant voice, deep yet reassuring. She didn’t respond. He knew why she was here, in this specific location, but as she wouldn’t open the door, he changed tack.
“You know there was a time there were thousands of these symbols spread all around the American continent. Each one meant something to the people of the village where they were originally erected and to the people who paid to have them erected.”
She scoffed, “Paid? Who would pay to have a memorial erected of a general from the losing side? History is written by the victors, everybody knows that.” She gestured to the man on a horse brandishing a saber who stood 20 feet tall in front of her.
There was his open door. “History is written by the winners, but often paid for with more than blood by the losers. In this case after the war, during the Southern rebuild, many of these Statues were erected as memorials so that the people would remember their fathers and brothers who had perished fighting for what they believed in.”
“You mean slavery?” She prompted.
“Yes, to put it bluntly.”
“What changed?”
“In time these memorials were no longer seen as memorials. In fact almost one hundred years after the war a group of Southern women paid lots of money to have over 1500 of these erected more as symbols of white superiority and oppression than of a memorial to the fallen. Basically the message got lost somewhere along the way.” He frowned and shrugged slightly, “In fact it took another 150 years and several more wars before these symbols began to fall. And then the race riots,” he saw her shoulders slump and could tell she had heard that story too often. “But I digress.”
“We’ve changed though, right? The Federation is above hatred and bigotry now.” She turned to face him, tears streaming down her light ebony skinned face.
He wiped away her tears with a broad palm of his dark meaty hand. “How I wish. I’ve not seen prejudice towards people like us in a long time, but only because I believe it’s been directed at others: the Romulans, the Synths and hell even the genetically modified who in many cases have no fault for how they are.”
“So then there isn’t any reason to hope for change if things are just going to get redirected.” She looked defeated.
He pursed his lips and looked for a way of reassurance, his gaze lingering on the statue towering behind her. “Actually, without a desire for change these symbols would still be towering above our citizens, instead they are here collecting dust in the Smithsonian, where they belong. But that change didn’t come without a price nor did it come without a story to tell. It did start, however, with hope.” He paused and swallowed before continuing on. “So this change you’re looking for, do you think you can find it within yourself?”
She pushed her semi-wavy hair out of her right eye. “I’m not sure I have the resolve.”
“He caressed her cheek, “Oh Bon-Bon, you’ve always had determination in spades and with enough you’ll eventually find your resolve.”
He placed a reassuring hand upon her shoulder and felt as she stood tall her pride beaming from within.
“Just one question though?” she asked while leaning back.
“Shoot.” He responded curiously.
“Was it really necessary to give a history lesson just to tell me to go out and pursue my career?” She asked in earnest.
“No, but an opportunity to learn should never be passed.” He paused before delivering his catch phrase. “Vigilance above all things, learn…”
She cut him off, “learn everything there is to learn.” She then smiled a half smile and turned with watery eyes, “I love you papa.Thank you.”
Stepping back she then tapped her combadge, “Spacedock, tell Admiral Star I’m on my way. One to beam up.” And she was gone in a haze of shimmering light leaving the proud man alone with his thoughts.

Bonnie Bon-Bon Durnell
Daughter of Hunter Durnell Smithsonian Historian, Earth Sciences