FARENHEIT 452

     Captain Bob Drone thought the days of burning were over.  Not since the days of the first Enterprise, had he heard of a cache of fanfic being discovered.  You see, Bob Drone was a fireman.  His job was to burn any work that infringed on the lifestyles of people in the 24th century.  "Trek Fanfic", it was called.  Denser than most literature, it needed an extra degree to reach combustion.  Bob Drone had never actually *read* any fanfic; he just torched it.  Leave the reading to the lawyers.
     And now, archeologist and famous starship captain Jean-Luc Picard had reported  newly discovered droves of the stuff, squirreled away under the historic site of the first Lunar settlement.   Bob Drone knew his job.  He and his blow torched hit warp eight, heading for Earth's moon.
 
     "You *know* it's harmful."  Beverly Crusher spoke to her old friend in the "Blue Cheese", a Lunar bar.  "It could start wars.  And who *knows* what it could do to the space-time continuum!"
     "I know."  Picard nodded sadly.  "But if you only saw-"
     "You *looked* at it?"
     "I had to, to determine what it was!"
     "Jean-Luc, you could get into a *lot* of trouble!"
     "D'you think I don't know that?  I've been in far worse spots that this."  He shifted in his seat, glancing around.  "To tell the truth, I don't give a damn about those out-dated rules!  This is a part of history, and it should be preserved!"
     Bob Drone approached the table.  "Sir, it is a well-known fact that fanfic is dangerous.  People who read it become irrational and unbelievably dramatic.  Some even decide to write their own, and become unreasonably paranoid.  This terrible plague on humanity must be abolished!"
     Picard looked up at the fireman, and slowly stood.  "You listen here."  he said quietly.  "Unless you can convince me you know what you're talking about, I will refuse to tell you where I've hidden the cache."
     "Jean-Luc!"  Bevery gasped.
     "No, it's all right."  Bob Drone assured her.  "Obviously, he's been exposed."
     "I'll expose *you*, ya bloody buggerer!"  Picard spat, then straightened up and adjusted his uniform.  "Sorry.  It's just that...If you would just read *one* story, I think you would see why we should *treasure* these archives."
     "You have an *archive*?!"  Bob Drone startled.
     "Not an actual archive, no.  I just was referring the cache as a collection.  This is a unique view into the hearts and minds of our ancestors; their hopes, their dreams!  We can't just...*burn* it!"
     Bob Drone recognized the infection when he saw it.  He also recognized an impasse.  "One.  A *short* one.  And don't make it a parody."  Bob Drone had a slightly rebellious streak, and a weakness for parodies.

     It isn't known which work of fanfic Jean-Luc Picard chose; whether it be an infamous Bjorkland, or Pugh, or Rogers, or even one of those detestable Francis flights of fancy; but Bob Drone came away from the experience and altered man.  As he re-entered the "Blue Cheese", tears streamed down his face.  "Oh, the beauty!"  he wept.  "Oh, the *drama*!"
     Picard looked around, slightly embarrassed.  "Pull yourself together, man!"  he hissed.  "What we need now, is a *plan*!"
     Bob Drone racked his tiny brain.  "I know what I *have* to do!  I must burn it all.  But first,"  he hastily added, "I will find volunteers to read and commit to memory *every* *precious* *word*!  We *will* preserve this wonderful message from our ancestors.  We *will* reclaim our heritage!"
     "Bravo, man!"  Picard smiled.
     "There's a *reason* the Klingon word for volunteer, is Sap."  Beverly groused.
     "I go now."  Bob Drone droned.  "I go to improve our future, by saving our past."  And with that, he left the bar; quite forgetting that Picard still had the bulk of the fanfic.
     "He'll be back,"  Picard stated confidently, sitting down.  "faster than a Viacom lawyer can say *lawsuit*!"
     Beverly Crusher eyed her old friend.  "You're beginning to sound paranoid, Jean-Luc."
     He shrugged.  "Comes with the territory.  Especially after reading all that "slash" fiction."
     "Slash?"  she raised one eyebrow.
     Picard cleared his throat.  "It's nothing.  All very harmless.  Except, of course, for the Picard-slash-Riker stuff.  I've already *burned* that."

THE END

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