Think this through a little...

The mess hall is busy the next morning. Neelix just returned from a trading post with crates of something that, thought bright green, tastes just like scrambled eggs. Crewmen and officers are waiting in line for their omelets, and more are coming in. Having skipped the delicacy (green?), you settle for some fresh fruit and a slice of toast. Tom and Harry Kim joined you, eager to hear about last night’s events in your quarters. So, you finish telling the story and look up over your cup of coffee.

“Wait,” Tom says, still shaking his head. “Are you telling me Seven asked you out?”

You shrug. “That’s…kind of what it sounds like.”

“I can’t believe it…” Harry says, staring out the window at the receding starfield. “Three years, and I haven’t been able to get her to join me for a meal. Now…” he shakes his head.

Tom leans forward. “So, what kind of simulation are you going to run?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” you say before sipping your coffee. “First, I was thinking that it might be fun to do something outdoors. Maybe run a rock-climbing program, hiking through Yellowstone, kayaking on Vulcan. That way, it there’s less pressure to converse. Which, you know, might be a good thing. But there’s a problem…”

“Really?” Tom asks. “That sounds great. Seven’s quite athletic.”

“I know,” you say. “And I…don’t have ten kilos of Borg implants that are going to make my rock-climbing partner look like a chump. And that’s assuming she can get past the irrelevance of just being in nature for the sake of being there. Maybe a game of racquetball or something like that would be good, and maybe she COULD find something redeeming about a game, but she’d definitely kick my ass.”

“So?” Harry says. “Wouldn’t you want her to win? Let her feel good about herself?”

You and Tom share a glance.

“No, Harry,” Tom explains. “You might want to LET her win, but if she wins because she CAN…whatever trace of human female is left in her would kick our young hero to the curb.”

You nod, smiling at Tom’s well-placed, if antiquated, metaphor.

Harry slumps onto the table. “I let Seven beat me at Tri-D chess once…”

Tom laughs. “No, Harry. You didn’t…”

“Anyway,” you say, leaning forward. “It seems to me that I should probably take her someplace where I could actually expose her to something new. Someplace where I could be the expert and SHE could follow my lead.”

“Earth,” Tom says.

“Yeah,” you say. “But, even if I narrow it to my lifetime, there’s a lot of options. I’m just trying to think of something that’d be fun, that would give us a chance to interact with some characters, and something that would be different. Maybe show her someplace I spent some time. Or maybe something more generic. Like a carnival.”

"You want a hand writing the program?" Tom asks.

You nod.

“We can do it over lunch.”

“Great,” you say, as the three of you stand and bus your trays.