Stardate 1329.1

Dear Spock,

I know it's a bit funny to be writing a letter to the first officer, when I'm the new doctor on the ship and all.  That's because I'm not writing to you, not in the sense that you're going to see this.  Ever since old Professor Higgsworth back at the Starfleet academy - that would be my Psychology (and Xenopsychology) professor from my third year - anyway, ever since he proposed this little letter-writing exercise, I've written faithfully to classmates, shipmates, fellow doctors, and so on.

It's a simple thing, really.  Captains don't like their chief medical officer going on rants about their fellow crew members, and this way I can rant to my heart's content without being a blasted nuisance to the whole ship.  I don't trust all this technology to keep my thoughts private, so I'm writing the old-fashioned way rather than someplace like a log that could be searched if I disappear - in other words, before I'm good and dead, too dead to care what anyone thinks of my personal thoughts.

The question remains why I've chosen the first officer to direct my letter to, specifically.  It was a choice between you and Jim the Captain, really.  I can't pretend I'm hurt by either of you, of course - I was the one who started it in the first place, at least in your case.  Given that Vulcan psych of yours I'm not even sure if you were joking, and quite frankly I don't care.  I probably shouldn't make this much of it.  Jim deserves a rant much more than you do - doesn't listen to a word I say, runs out of Sickbay without his shirt, for heaven's sake.  But I know Jim well enough to know he doesn't mean anything by it.  You, on the other hand - what was it?  "The fact that my internal arrangement differs from yours pleases me to no end."

See, I've studied Vulcans like any other doctor, but I've never actually worked with one.  Not closely.  And if you're any indication, I'm sure glad I haven't.  This lack-of-emotions business creeps me out.  Everything I've heard about Vulcans says it's normal enough, but there's something plain wrong about a humanoid who's that unaffected by gorgeous women, or the ship's problems, or anything at all.  The only reaction I've seen out of you was to my comment about the location of your heart.  That's sad, Spock, and you ought to know it.  Of course, that also means you can be affected, which from all I heard isn't possible for a Vulcan in the first place.

Maybe I'm being a racist fool.  I'd like to think it's because I'm a doctor.  When I think something's wrong, I poke and prod at it until I figure out how to fix it.  That tendency's served me well so far, so I don't intend to get rid of it any time soon.  I'm not going to come right out and claim you need to be fixed and that I'm the one to do it, but I also don't think I'll be leaving this alone.

Anyway, that's all I really have to say for this letter.  I think I'll hid it with my socks.  No one will look there for anything interesting, I'm sure.

- Doctor Leonard McCoy