Adam slowly made his way through the "New Orleans" area of Starbase 118, his pale blue eyes taking in each piece of the facimile of the Earth he had only recently left. He didn't know why, but for some reason he always found himself...pulled towards the distant dark, towards places that dripped of something atavistic and primal. Towards old things. But this place wasn't old. It was new, made to look old--like theater stage makeup. He walked by a small alleyway, where he saw shadowy figures crouched over a small prone form. His body tensed, like it always did when he prepared for conflict. It was something like fear, but without the emotional content--just the body preparing for something. He coughed loudly, something he had picked up at the academy. He had observed in these situations, a flair for the dramatic was sometimes more effective than a simply "What are you doing?" though that would have been his response before he entered the academy, and the variety of personalities that he encountered there. The figures in the alley looked up, seeing his tall, athletic form, and the Starfleet uniform. They scattered. The small prone form moved slightly and groaned. Adam went into the alley, and picked up the small form, carrying him to the artificially sunlit walkway. It was a child, around 9 or 10, and he suddenly realized he was being carried, and he started struggling. "Get off me, get off me!" Adam quickly set him down. "Are you all right?" Adam asked, in a soft voice, almost too soft, as if he were worried he would break something by talking too loud. "I was handling them all right." The kid brushed himself off, and looked defiantly up at Adam. "It looked like you were being beaten." The kid tried to save face a little, and then gave up. He sat down on the front steps of a building by the alleyway. Adam looked down at him. "I wish I was in Starfleet. Then nobody'd mess with me." Adam looked around the area, calculating. He didn't really know what to do. He knew what people were supposed to do, but he didn't feel, one way or another. He said the only thing he could think of. "I envy you. If that's the right word. I don't feel envy, I don't really know necessarily what it is. I only know it by description." "What are you talking about?" The kid said, raising an eyebrow. "You have a childhood, you have a reason to want and be the way you are. I simply do what I am capable at. I have no motivation, other than action itself." He felt he had said enough, and turned to leave. Then he thought of something else, something others were always telling each other. "Don't be afraid." Adam left, feeling something akin to satisfaction, and the kid watched his tall form until he was out of sight.