(exasperated sigh) Just when I think all is calm on our little Enterprise Alcatraz, Ensign Kevin goes running off, much like a stubborn child who also has ADD and insists on testing out the stove, over and over again. “Ooh, that’s hot! Ouch, that hurts! Ooh, that’s hot! Ouch, hurts! Owie!” This time when he started whining about how The TriBorgs are cooler because they’re more SERIOUS and therefore they must be finer athletes, and I yet again pointed out the fallacy of that assumption, he darted off anyway, scampering in the direction of the last known TriBorg location. That little imp. I’m never sure if I should pat him on the head or strangle him.
Anyway, I decided this time to let him go off and have his “fun.” 
He’ll soon see that being part of The Borg means having no discernible identity whatsoever, no endearing character traits. That being part of a collective means that what the others do, you’re doing as well. So when TriBorg Chuck (who is clearly suffering from the rampant Borg virus that causes brain malfunction and meltdown) wants to go swimming in the
icy Lake Michigan waters on April 6th, you’re ALL going swimming. I kept trying to remind him of The Borgian philosophy: “they think as one, and act as one, tooling about in vast cube shaped ships that look like a compressed pile of industrial junk. In the collective, individuality is surrendered to the greater good of the whole.” 
Yet as the newer recruits are wont to do, Ensign Kevin – oops, I mean “8 of 8” - blithely ignored me for the siren call of the unknown, the flavor-of-the-month, so to speak. So be it. Sometimes the new ones have to figure these things out for themselves.Ensigns Max, Heather et al, this means that YET AGAIN we get to shoulder the burden of being the fun, charming, witty, stylish, dashingly good-looking ones. Good thing we’re used to that!
I guess eventually we’ll go try to pry him from the Borg Cube, as tricky and tedious as that can be, and with no guarantee of success, with many people turning into mere shadows of their former selves. Sometimes it's not worth it - it’s best to move on rather than try to recapture the glory days of past camaraderie. Shrug. Until we make that tough decision, we move on to other matters. I now have pictures from my travels to the Western Galaxy, and will resume documentation in my next postings, as I’m sure has been eagerly anticipated by all.
