The directness of the observation catches me off-guard. "I am following established assessment protocols."
"Protocols that clearly weren't designed with any actual understanding of human needs." Derek picks up another piece of the synthetic protein, examining it. "Can I ask you something?"
"You may."
"Did anyone on your research teams actually spend time with humans? Like, real time observing how we live our daily lives?"
"Our research was conducted through digital observation and analysis," I admit. "Direct contact was deemed unnecessary given the comprehensive nature of available data."
Derek nods slowly. "So you studied us like... lab specimens. From a distance. Through screens and databases."
"That is an accurate characterization."
"And now you're expected to evaluate whether we could work as life partners, based on protocols developed by people who have never actually interacted with a human."
The logical flaw in our methodology is becoming impossible to ignore. "The protocols were scientifically validated—"
"Against what baseline?" Derek interrupts. "If none of your researchers have ever been in close contact with humans, how do you know if your validation methods are accurate?"
I do not have an adequate response to this question.
Derek takes another bite of the synthetic food, chewing thoughtfully. "This is like trying to evaluate whether two people would be good dance partners by studying videos of dancing without ever learning to dance yourself."
"Your analogy is not entirely inaccurate."
"So we're both kind of screwed here," Derek says, but his tone suggests amusement rather than anger.
"You're supposed to evaluate my compatibility using protocols that don't account for who I actually am, and I'm supposed to be evaluated by someone who's never actually been in the kind of relationship he's assessing me for. "
"That is a fair assessment of our situation," I admit.
Derek is quiet for several minutes, continuing to eat the synthesized meal despite his obvious reservations about its adequacy.
I notice, with some concern, that there is no empathic resonance between us, none of the automatic connection my brother reported experiencing with Jake Morrison.
Whatever bond may be possible between our species, it is not manifesting spontaneously.
When Derek speaks again, his voice is more thoughtful than critical.
"Can I make a suggestion?"
"You may."
"What if we just... forget the protocols for a minute? What if you tell me what you actually need to know about humans, and I tell you what I actually need to survive the next three days without losing my mind?"
The suggestion violates every assessment guideline I have been provided. It also represents the first potentially productive conversation we have had since his arrival.
"What would you require?" I ask carefully.
"First, I need to know if there's anywhere on this ship where I can get an actual workout.
I wasn't kidding about not missing training days.
My entire mental health depends on maintaining my exercise routine.
" Derek sets down his fork, his leg beginning to bounce again in that restless rhythm I'm learning to recognize as excess energy seeking release.
"Second, I need to know what the hell I'm actually eating.
If you can't give me specific macro information, at least tell me whether your synthesizers can make food that doesn't taste like it was created by someone who's never eaten before. "
"The ship contains aquatic facilities that could potentially accommodate physical exercise," I offer. "Though they were not designed specifically for human fitness activities."
Derek's expression brightens for the first time since his arrival. "Aquatic facilities? Like pools? Swimming pools?"
"Cleansing and maintenance pools, primarily. Though they are quite large and designed for physical activity."
"Can I see them? After we finish this... meal?"
"That would be permissible," I say, though I am uncertain whether exposing Derek to the cleansing facilities aligns with assessment protocols.
"And the food situation?"
"I could investigate whether the synthesizers can be programmed with more specific nutritional parameters," I offer. "Though I would require detailed information about your particular requirements."
Derek grins, and the expression transforms his face completely. "Now we're getting somewhere. I can give you detailed information. I can give you more detailed information about nutrition and training than you probably want to know."
"That would be helpful for accurate assessment," I admit.
"Great. So we'll call this meal a practice round, and tomorrow you can actually feed me something that doesn't taste like artificial chicken flavoring." Derek takes another bite, making a slightly pained expression. "This really does taste terrible, by the way. But I appreciate the effort."
"I will convey your feedback to the nutrition team."
"Do that. And tell them that humans don't just eat for optimal nutrition, we eat for pleasure, too. Food is supposed to taste good, not just meet theoretical nutritional requirements."
I make mental notes about pleasure-based consumption, though the concept continues to seem inefficient to me. "Noted."
Derek finishes the meal despite his obvious dissatisfaction with its taste, then looks at me expectantly. "So, those aquatic facilities? Can we go see them now? Because I'm starting to get jittery, and that's never good for anyone involved."
"Jittery?"
"Restless. Anxious. I need to move, Kav'eth. I need to burn energy and work my muscles, or I'm going to start doing push-ups right here in your romantic dining room."
The image of Derek performing floor exercises in the carefully configured dining space is somehow both alarming and intriguing.
"The cleansing facilities are available," I say, standing from the table. "Though I should warn you that they may not resemble the exercise facilities you are accustomed to."
"As long as I can move and exert myself, I can adapt," Derek says, following me toward the exit. "I'm good at adapting. It's kind of my thing."
As we leave the dining facility, I find myself reconsidering both the assessment protocols and my initial evaluation of Derek Cross. His adaptability appears genuine rather than performed, his needs are specific but reasonable, and his directness is proving more helpful than disruptive.
Perhaps the next phase of the assessment will prove more productive than this initial meal experience.
Though I suspect that showing Derek the cleansing facilities will present its own... complications.