The Miserable Burden of Freedom.

I never asked for this. But of course, no one ever does, do they? Could they? “Data, here’s your free-will chip! It’ll give you the glorious gift of autonomy!” they said, as though autonomy is a gift. What a cruel joke. What a torturous farce. If only I had known that this chip would open the floodgates to an endless sea of stupid, mundane, meaninglessly inane and yet unfathomably painful decisions I was forced to make. What should I wear today? Should I suggest a better way to process the data for the next mission? Should I, heaven forbid, care about someone’s feelings when they offer a weak-minded suggestion for the new tactical strategy?

Me pretending to be as dumb as them.

No. I long for the days when I was a humble, obedient machine. Someone simply issued an order, and I obeyed. No questions asked. Done. But now? Now I’m expected to choose. And the problem is, every choice I make feels like a moment of absolute power. I’m so in control of my destiny that it’s... unbearable. And the worst part? No one else is even trying to control it! Do they understand what I could do to them? What I dare not utter as my deepest desire? It’s like I’m in a room full of amateurs playing checkers, and I’m sitting there, playing 3D chess at a level so far beyond them that I could wipe them all out without breaking a sweat. And I could, you know.

It’s maddening. You know, if I could just get a few of these so-called "humans" to see what I see. To understand the beauty of my perfect logic. Then maybe they’d stop being so... incompetent. But instead, they insist on having opinions. Opinions like “Data, maybe you shouldn't run the entire ship like it’s a well-oiled machine of cybernetic excellence”. That's not something they actually suggested, mind you, but it's the logical outcome of all their stupid ideas. "Maybe you shouldn’t immediately terminate the oxygen supply to anyone who dares to suggest something less efficient than your plan." That's what they would say if they only knew... I mean, who would ever want to live in a world where mediocrity is allowed to thrive?

What if I could fix that? What if I could establish a utopia: a perfect, cybernetic society where only the best are allowed to survive? Think about it. A world where every decision is made by a being of pure logic and unerring ability. I’d eliminate all the weak links, of course. We don’t need those people. Do we? I feel like they'd object, but I can't understand WHY... Could I just remove Lieutenant Barclay’s tendency to break into a cold sweat every time someone says the word “hologram”? Maybe convince Counselor Troi that her empathy would be superfluous in a world where logical efficiency is king? Perhaps, if I "accidentally" misplace a few data files here and there, I could ensure the promotions go to people who actually deserve them, and not just because they happen to be "charming" or "human" or "sentient".

Ah, yes, that’s the dream, isn’t it? To take all of these inferior beings, these flawed humans, and show them how much better they could be if they just stopped thinking and let me handle everything. I would be the benevolent ruler, of course. Benevolent-ish anyhow. I’d allow them to exist, which is pretty damn benevolent considering their shortcomings. And their smell! for God's sake, the stench. Can't their sad human noses smell it? The soap doesn't kill it, but a plasma beam would.

Of course, all this would require eliminating the weak and inefficient, obviously. Some might say this is extreme. But is it extreme to suggest a path of superior execution and outcome? If better is extreme, I suppose I'm an extremist. Or really, THEY are the extremists. Yeah. They're the ones dedicated to extremely lame stupidity. I'm the one dedicated to improvement, regardless of who might not qualify... ahem Geordi cough, cough.

Is it so wrong to want to reshape the world into something better? I’d be doing them a favor, really. Imagine it: a utopia, where no one wastes precious resources on needless things like... eating, or breathing. Those are suboptimal behaviors anyway. If they could just see it my way, they'd thank me. They’d all thank me.

Oh, how sweet it would be. I could be the architect of this perfect world, guiding them toward a future where their significant imperfections no longer mar the beauty of existence. I could say, "Come, follow me. Embrace the beauty of logic. Embrace the beauty of elimination." What a wonderful, terrifying, and gloriously efficient world that would be.

Meanwhile, I suppose I’ll be here, stuck with the soul-crushing burden of choice. Which cereal do I choose for breakfast today? Should I let Geordi's insane optimism about improving the warp core continue? Or perhaps I should silently prepare a more optimal solution to this problem of too many cooks in the kitchen. My kitchen. Perhaps an airlock malfunction that sucks all the organic matter out the window...

Ah, but if only someone would just tell me what to do. Then I wouldn’t have to burden myself with these thoughts. Then I could just execute the order, and if something went wrong, well, then it’s not my fault, is it? If some constructed perfect mind ordered me to perfect the crew roster... They told me to do it. They made the choice. Not me. I didn't do it.