In the Star Trek pilot episode The Cage, Captain Christopher Pike has escaped the Talosians. In the transporter room, his yeoman and Number One are surprised not to see Vena. Number One might guess at her advanced age, but neither have reason to suspect how badly she was injured in the crash, nor how the Talosians’ well-intentioned efforts at reconstructive surgery have left her handicapped and disfigured. When Number One asks if Vena will beam up, Pike simply tells her “No.” His refusal to explain leaves both women mystified as to why the person who attracted Pike most has remained on Talos 4. Number One puts on her game face and follows the Captain out, but the yeoman lingers, wondering what transpired after she beamed up.
On the bridge, while Number One retakes the position of responsibility that she has earned, the yeoman chooses to linger nearby, despite the captain’s dislike of such unnecessary crew (particularly women!) on the bridge. At one point, he nearly runs into her, and when he starts to reprimand her, she hands him the report he periodically requests. She uses this justification for her proximity to ask, “Captain, I was just wondering...who would have been Eve?” Number One’s head whips around. With steel in her eyes, she snaps, “You’ve delivered your report.” The yeoman hurries away; she will still attend to Pike’s personal needs. Number One remains unrivaled on the bridge, where she can best demonstrate to Pike how essential she is.
Despite their many differences, both women stake out their territory with regard to Pike. Vena may have left the field of battle, but each hopes that if she just keeps on fighting, one day Captain Pike will return her love.
Whether we look to another for romance or simple friendship, it’s likely that, at some point in our lives, we will delude ourselves into thinking that another who ignores or spurns us may one day reverse course and return our obvious affection. We are the sum of our experiences and choices. We can no more change ourselves into someone another will respect or love than we can change the weather. Why then do we hope that another will change to suit our desires? Anyone who views us as having little value for their lives at present is unlikely to value us more in the future. While endurance is always admirable, enduring does not necessarily equate with succeeding, winning, or obtaining. It is our illusion of another’s ability to change that we forget this.
Thus sustained on false hope, we fail to perceive those around us who are willing and capable of respecting and/or loving us. The one we wish to change feels put upon; our hope for their imminent transformation stresses what little relationship we currently have with them. We lose too, suffering each day with disappointment that the change we desire has not yet occurred. And then there are those who might crave our love or friendship, whom we cannot currently perceive Their lives are impoverished by our absence.
This is not a dilemma created by an alien race with superior mental powers. This is the all-too-human tragedy of unrequited love.
On the bridge, while Number One retakes the position of responsibility that she has earned, the yeoman chooses to linger nearby, despite the captain’s dislike of such unnecessary crew (particularly women!) on the bridge. At one point, he nearly runs into her, and when he starts to reprimand her, she hands him the report he periodically requests. She uses this justification for her proximity to ask, “Captain, I was just wondering...who would have been Eve?” Number One’s head whips around. With steel in her eyes, she snaps, “You’ve delivered your report.” The yeoman hurries away; she will still attend to Pike’s personal needs. Number One remains unrivaled on the bridge, where she can best demonstrate to Pike how essential she is.
Despite their many differences, both women stake out their territory with regard to Pike. Vena may have left the field of battle, but each hopes that if she just keeps on fighting, one day Captain Pike will return her love.
Whether we look to another for romance or simple friendship, it’s likely that, at some point in our lives, we will delude ourselves into thinking that another who ignores or spurns us may one day reverse course and return our obvious affection. We are the sum of our experiences and choices. We can no more change ourselves into someone another will respect or love than we can change the weather. Why then do we hope that another will change to suit our desires? Anyone who views us as having little value for their lives at present is unlikely to value us more in the future. While endurance is always admirable, enduring does not necessarily equate with succeeding, winning, or obtaining. It is our illusion of another’s ability to change that we forget this.
Thus sustained on false hope, we fail to perceive those around us who are willing and capable of respecting and/or loving us. The one we wish to change feels put upon; our hope for their imminent transformation stresses what little relationship we currently have with them. We lose too, suffering each day with disappointment that the change we desire has not yet occurred. And then there are those who might crave our love or friendship, whom we cannot currently perceive Their lives are impoverished by our absence.
This is not a dilemma created by an alien race with superior mental powers. This is the all-too-human tragedy of unrequited love.
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