I guess I and the Star Trek writers just have very different views on what an engine room should look like. Here's what their idea of the engine room looks like:
Geordi Laforge stepped out of the turbolift and into the Engineering section. He walked on the soft carpeted floor until he was standing next to the warp core. It was making a relaxing, soft humming sound, and he could see the light-blue reaction happening only a few feet away, through its conveniently transparent walls.
"OK Ensign, looks like we have to scan the warp core vessel for microfractures. Do you think you're up to it?"
"Yes sir." Ensign Jamieson beamed brightly. He was always eager to impress his superior officers.
"OK then, get to work. Report back to me when you're done." Geordi handed him a tricorder and a PADD.
"Yes sir." Ensign Jamieson replied smartly, then turned on his heels and began entering data into his PADD. This was going to be a good day.
And this is what my idea of an engine room looks like:
Ensign Jamieson stepped out of the turbolift and into the Engineering section. He passed the Control room where the techs were monitoring every conceivable operating parameter of the warp core, under the suffocating but competent watch of the Chief Engineer, Geordi Laforge.
"Must be nice", he thought to himself. The Control room was such a peaceful environment, filled with blinking displays and ordered instrumentation. But he didn't rate the Control room quite yet, so he kept going, until he reached Q1: the first quarantine checkpoint. He walked into the scanning booth, putting his feet on the clearly marked yellow footprint markers on the gleaming metal floor plate.
"Sir, please extend your arms and put your hands into the receptacles" said the crewman. Jamieson knew the drill. He put his hands into the scanning receptacles where they would receive an even more thorough detail scanning than the rest of his body. Every possible contaminant would be logged, as would any sign of irradiation. This check was performed every day, every time someone entered or left the engine room. The light above his head glowed green, and a familiar computer voice said: "All Clear."
"Sir, you are cleared to proceed."
Jamieson nodded and continued into the locker room, where he got out his gear. He still remembered the instructions they'd given him on the first day he worked with a live warp core: check every seal, inspect every part. He sealed his suit, snapped his helmet onto the locking ring, and activated his helmet HUD displays. Oxygen, nitrogen, ionizing radiation detectors, vital sign monitor, all on-line. He pushed the button on his arm-mounted control pad and a series of green lights flashed inside his helmet: the auto-diagnostic checked out OK. He could barely hear the heavy clomp of his boots as he walked toward Q2: the second quarantine checkpoint.
"Sir, please extend your arms and put your hands into the receptacles" said the second crewman, in almost exactly the same inflection as the first.
The second scan always took longer, but Jamieson was in no hurry. One always had a sense of trepidation when entering the engine room. If the suit and the two quarantine checkpoints didn't make the gravity of the situation clear enough, the heavy doors on the airlock ahead made things perfectly clear. The light above his head flashed green, and he heard that droning computer voice again. "All Clear."
"Sir, you are cleared to proceed." the crewman's voice sounded in his helmet speakers.
"You sure you don't want to take my place?"
"Only if you'll take my place when I visit my mother-in-law next month, sir." the crewman responded.
"Fuck that," Jamieson grunted. "I've seen your mother-in-law." He marched into the airlock and waited for the secondary door to close behind him. He stood like a statue, looking forward at the heavy duranium primary blast door. The red alarm light over the blast door began to flash, and the two foot thick metal door ponderously rotated on its massive hinges until there was an opening just wide enough for him to pass. He could feel the powerful rumbling in the deckplates now, rattling his teeth.
He moved inside. Even with the active cooling systems and radiation shielding systems in place, the engine room was hot. Hot enough to explain why they called it the Hellhole. But the cooling systems in his suit were working properly, and the noise cancellation systems in his helmet kept the thunderous roar of the immensely powerful reactor down to a merely irritating level, as opposed to a deafening one.
"All right Jamieson", the speaker in his helmet crackled to life. It was Laforge's voice. "I don't think I need to explain to you that if we can't track down and seal that microfracture, we are in some serious shit. Start your scan with the primary containment vessel."
"Yes sir" Jamieson responded. He brought his microfracture scanner up to eye level, and began to work. This was going to be a long day.
Not at all the same.
Anyways, we still had the same humming in the background.
