IMPRESSIVE REALISM

I’ll give you one guess: yep, it’s an AU.

“You said something about needing a vacation?” Dukat prompted.

“Actually, it was Mila who suggested that I needed one,” Tain replied.

“But won’t this seem too much like your regular work?” remarked Damar.

“On the contrary; it will resemble the most interesting part of my work, but without all of the monotonous preliminary effort, or the dull, repetitive follow-up documentation.”

“But why did you summon the three of us to join you in this endeavor?” wondered Garak.

“Because the four of us are the ones used in the program.” Tain looked rueful. “It seems that we are the most prominently known Cardassians to the general populace of the Federation.”

“That has to disconcert you, a man who prefers to keep a low profile,” Garak surmised.

“Indeed. And this black-market holosuite program is the first occasion that I’ve had to view Federation vidscreen intrusiveness as an opportunity instead of a nuisance.”

“Absolutely astonishing that these humans envision our interrogation-chamber-activities as a potential source of entertainment.” Garak was clearly both perplexed and annoyed, and it was understandable why: such Cardassian techniques were supposed to be feared, not desired.

“Most of them don’t. Just those few who have definite masochistic streaks. Or those who see their own lives as too comfortable and predictable.”

“Baffling.” He remained unimpressed.

“Well, humans have always liked their thrill-rides, but they don’t really want them to crash.”

Damar presented a lopsided grin. “So we’re going to…‘crash’ their programs for them.”

Dukat smiled in turn. “And then we’ll…‘crash’ their party.”

Tain concluded, “They don’t actually want to be tortured; they just want to get the adrenaline flowing.”

“So, of course, they have all of their holosuite safety-protocols engaged,” Garak surmised in disdain.

“And, of course, we’ll turn them off remotely, just prior to our arrival,” Tain agreed.

Dukat’s grin had turned diabolical. “So we’re just going to beam into our own characters in the middle of someone’s program?”

“Exactly.” Tain was smug.

“We’ll need to study the program first, so as to mesh smoothly,” observed Damar.

“I have it right here.” Tain held up the cylinder. “It’s quite impressive realism, as you’ll see. The programmers have captured each of us with uncanny authenticity.”

“But the victims might hear our transporter beam, or see us shimmer,” protested Garak.

Now Tain’s grin was positively demonic. “I already thought of that. I’ve found the precise spot in the program that will be ideal for us to appear. Believe me, given the trauma of the moment, noticing subtleties will be quite beyond the capability of the subject.”

Garak’s own grin was beginning to surface. “And, naturally, you found it a simple matter to trace a number of potential victims who have acquired the program.”

“Naturally.”

Even the usually reserved Damar was starting to enjoy the idea. “I suppose that one might consider this to be a form of…‘poetic justice.’”

The four Cardassians enjoyed their entertainment of subverting humans’ “entertainment” over a dozen times before they tired of it. They also realized that it was prudent to stop before they could be discovered; Starfleet was becoming increasingly alerted to the bizarre phenomenon of numerous humans in various locations suffering psychotic breaks during “harmless” holosuite activities.

Almost as an afterthought, the four programmed a few tens of particular cylinders with their own “enhanced” version of the program, so that the specific individuals who happened to acquire those exact copies of the scenario would “enjoy” a far more realistic experience. This would also “cover their tracks,” as the eventual investigators of this incident would assume that the culprits had simply been tainted, reprogrammed copies all along, and thus never suspect the real Cardassians of having ever truly played their roles, and thereby deflecting suspicion onto any number of billions of possible devious, sadistic genius-programmers.

The one unfortunate backlash to all of this was the tragic day on which Garak heard an emergency infirmary summons aboard DS9: it seems that during a “harmless” off-duty holosuite activity, Dr. Bashir had somehow suffered a psychotic break.