A/N: I deleted the original first chapter, because it was completely pointless. I've also trimmed the rest of this story a bit.

I don't own "Star Trek: Voyager."

Dr. Amadeus Zimmerman had it fairly good. Still known as "the Doctor" or "Doc" to most of his old Voyager friends, he'd spent the last five years carving out a new career for himself in scientific research and hologram rights. After Voyager's triumphant return home, the Doctor began a new career aboard the Jupiter station, the place of his creation. He worked as a researcher, contributing his knowledge and experience from the Delta Quadrant to the Federation's medical advances, and becoming part of a new "family"- this one a tad more literal, as it included his "father" and "sister." Dr. Lewis Zimmerman still wasn't an easy man to get along with, but he'd certainly warmed up to his creation, and any arguments they still had were mediated by Haley.

It was surprisingly mundane work compared to the first seven years of his existence. So the Doctor took the opportunity to rewrite his holonovel from scratch, with some help from Reg Barclay and a sentient holographic lounge singer on DS9 named Vic Fontaine.

The setting changed from a Voyager knockoff to "the U.S.S. Hugo," a small science vessel exploring the edges of the Beta Quadrant. The style of the ship and uniforms was altered, to avoid tying it to any particular time period. The ship's captain became a Vulcan named T'Pen, who initially disrespected the protagonist not out of malice, but simply the conviction that it was illogical to think a hologram could be sentient. The ship's engineer, a male human/Orion hybrid, suffered Reg Barclay's anxiety and B'Elanna's temperament. The female lead, Anis Frey, was a combination of Seven of Nine, Kes, and Freya (a character in the "Beowulf" program the Doctor had bonded with). Frey was a beautiful Bajoran woman rescued from enslavement under Cardassians, who befriended the Hugo's EMH as he regularly treated her for permanent damage she'd sustained during her ordeal, and trained her in socialization. The protagonist wound up losing Frey's love to a Betazoid war hero named Kadro, who had traits of both Chakotay and Tom Paris.

Most of the characters were sympathetic, and wound up respecting the Doctor character—particularly Kadro (who filled a role comparable to Paul Henreid's Laszlo in "Casablanca"). By portraying the romantic rival as aggravatingly noble, and letting him "win the girl," the Doctor was able to give the protagonist the frustration, character flaws and failures of a human; far more important for his story's message than romantic wish-fulfillment. The only characters directly based on real people were the villains: the Hugo's Bolian first officer, and the human security chief loyal to him—inspired by Broht and Forrester, the bigoted publishers of "Photons be Free." Oh, another, minor villain, a hologram-rights extremist named "Ivan." The new holonovel, called "Children of Light," became the hit calling for social change that the Doctor had hoped for.

The Doctor was so preoccupied with his new achievements in his career, hologram rights, and his love life that it completely escaped his notice that an old shame was beginning to rear its ugly head. It wasn't until five years after Voyager's return, when he received a subspace letter from Tom Paris. Attached was an article from an entertainment news bulletin. And when the doctor opened the attachment, the nightmare began.

The Doctor's eyes bulged in horror, as they read the article on his monitor. He barely noticed Haley, the Jupiter Station's service hologram, enter his office.

"Amadeus, here're those samples."

Haley was one of the first people to start referring to the Doctor by his new chosen name. A fellow creation of Dr. Zimmerman's, Haley had also graciously allowed her template to be used for her "brother's" lead heroine, in "Children of Light."

Haley, seemingly oblivious to the Doctor's current state, chattered on. "Vic and I decided to have the wedding at his club, on DS9. He wants you to do a duet with him. I said you'd love that idea!"

"Yes," the Doctor said, his voice distant. "love it…"

"Amadeus?" Haley came up behind him to see what he was reading. "What's that?"

Grimacing, the Doctor replied, "Karma."

Haley looked at him.

"Five years ago, just a couple of months before Voyager returned to Earth, I wrote a holoprogram called 'Photons be Free.'"

"Oh!" Haley seemed to remember. "That's the program you wanted to recall, and the publishers tried to argue against your personhood. Reg was involved in your trial."

"Well not all of them were recalled." The Doctor sighed heavily, remembering the discussions during that welcome-home party on Voyager. "Ensign Kim's mother was teaching in San Francisco at the time, and her students loved 'Photons be Free.' As a comedy." He muttered through clenched teeth, "And a few of the little cretins managed to download illegal copies."

Haley's dark eyes were alight with fascination, as she read over his shoulder. "Wow," she whispered. "I always knew that program was not-too-good, but I had no idea, I never actually played it myself!" She giggled, and began reading an excerpt out loud: "'Characters so lazily designed, they look like they just rolled out of bed; major characters and plot twists coming and going at random; missing chapters…' My goodness, you really made a doozy didn't you!"

"And they've turned it into an entire cult ritual," the Doctor spoke as if diagnosing a terminal illness. "Mass heckling….costume contests… Is this how the general populace spends its time?" His voice rose in irritation. "I bring up Wagner and Bach and people stare at me blankly, but they flood to this rubbish like lemmings?"

Haley was now reading from her own PADD, having pulled up information on the program and its cult status. She suddenly burst out laughing. "Doctor, did you notice that one of the wall panels in your program lists the ingredients for Bolian pudding?"

"What?" The Doctor spun in his chair. "I only used the stock imagery in Voyager's holodeck database!"

"Should've checked your stock programs more carefully before using them," Haley said. "Now it's a ritual for guests to flick spoonfuls of pudding at the panels when they find it. And you have another one in Engineering that lists the rules of Kadis-kot, so for that one they throw Kadis-kot chips."

The Doctor slowly spun away from her, jaw-dropped. "The audience wasn't supposed to be examining the background décor, they were supposed to be caught up in the drama of—"

"Captain Jenkins' first kill?" Haley's face was still tight with amusement as it scanned the information on her PADD. "Apparently that's the most famous scene. Oh my…there's a whole fan script! Take a look." She handed the Doctor her PADD.

"PHOTONS BE FREE," AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION GUIDE!

WHAT YOU'LL NEED:

* 1 cup of Bolian pudding and spoon (not for eating! Bring extra if you think you might get hungry)

* At least one Kadis-Kot chip (for throwing)

* One or more "Implants" (bracelet, necklace, earring, etc. in the style of a Borg implant. Must have blinking feature, to flash along when Three of Eight. Make your own, or purchase at the holo-suite)

* Costume (Be creative! Or just wear a "Vortex" uniform if you're a boring sap.)

* Last and most important, your mobile emitter! (Award for the most creative.)

"This sounds like something Tom Paris would cook up," the Doctor said wrinkling his nose. "What's that last part, 'your mobile emitter?'"

Haley nodded. "After Captain Jenkins frying that crewman, the other most famous thing about your program is the giant mobile emitter your protagonist has to haul around like a backpack."

"It was supposed to be a metaphor!"

"Well it's a metaphor that's inspired contests," Haley took back her PADD and scrolled down, then read: "'Guests are encouraged to create their own mobile emitters, and try to out-do the Doctor's in absurdity. Prizes are awarded to those deemed most outrageous. The Mobile Emitter Contest is usually the final event, after the Costume Contest and the relay races."

"How do multiple people do these showings?" stammered Reg Barclay, who'd suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Wasn't 'Photons be Free' a single-player program?"

"There are ways around that," the Doctor said. "A person can play a program like this and have others tag along. Some of the famous programs also get 'showings,' where a few people play while it's displayed live on a large screen for an audience."

Haley added, "And in this case, the audience is encouraged to heckle and throw things."

Barclay made a face. "That sounds chaotic."

"Oh no," Haley shook her head. "The heckling is all very organized. They give you a script of wisecracks to make, and when to make them. For example, whenever the players enter a new deck on the 'Vortex,' you're supposed to say 'Lights?' or 'Computer, lights!'"

"Why was that environment so dark?" Barclay asked the Doctor. "It looked like it was always on Red Alert."

"Drama, I'm sure," Haley glanced the Doctor's way teasingly, before returning her attention to her PADD. "Anytime a character 'not' based on a famous Voyager officer appears, you have to comment on their mustache or tattoo or what-not. This is my favorite: in Sickbay, you have to keep your eye out for the wall panels that display Bolian pudding ingredients. First person to find it screams 'Pudding!' and everyone flicks spoonfuls at the panel. Same in Engineering, but with Kadis-kot chips."

"How do the characters in the program react to that?" Barclay wondered.

"Hilariously, I'll bet," Haley said.

"Yes," the Doctor grumbled, "Hilarious."

He had the "fan script" up on his monitor now.

[Narrator appears, in a purple paisley smoking jacket, writing in a book with a quill]

HOST: "Dear diary…"

[Prize awarded to the guest who offers the funniest finish. Examples: "I finally lost my virginity to a Ferengi dabo girl"/ "I've learned that tribbles do not make good toupees"/ "I got a new dress, purple paisley, wearing it right now!"]

NARRATOR: You are about to take part in a thrilling first-person narrative!

AUDIENCE: Thrilling!

NARRATOR: Your mission; to uphold your medical and ethical standards, as you struggle…

AUDIENCE: To program some hair!

"You okay Doc?" Haley asked.

The Doctor made a face. "I'm just starting to wonder if this is real, or if it's all just a prank. It wouldn't put it past Mr. Paris."

Barclay began shaking his head nervously. "N-no it's, no prank. I've heard of these showings. I don't know much about them, but I can confirm that Tom Paris didn't make this up."

The Doctor sighed, and dared another glance at the "fan script."

CAPTAIN JENKINS: [kills the other patient] "That patient is dead. Now you're free to treat Lt. Marseilles."

AUDIENCE: "That works!" Also acceptable: "Can I have his holodeck slot?"

The Doctor said out loud, "This was supposed to be a moment of intensity, when the darkness of the narrative hits the player in the face like a splash of water!"

But even as he said it, he recalled all the stories he'd heard of players bursting into hysterical fits of laughter when Captain Janeway's counterpart nonchalantly phasered the injured crewman in the opening scene. One news article had mentioned an Andorian officer with mild health problems requiring a visit to Sickbay after his laughing fit had done internal damage.

Huffing, the Doctor scrolled down towards the end of the script.

AUDIENCE: [When being "decompiled"] "Its it over?" Alternatively, begin applauding and cheer, "It's finally over!"

AUDIENCE: [During closing narration]: "What was in that pipe?" Optional: "Can I have a puff?"

"Did you look through the image gallery?" Haley asked.

The Doctor replied, "I'm afraid to."

"Here!" Before he could stop her, she was reaching over to his monitor, activating the article's image collection.

The Doctor, Haley and Reg were now scrolling through photos taken from various "Photons be Free" showings all over the Alpha and Beta Quadrants.

Pictures depicted players in costumes, screaming insults and throwing pudding and game-chips at the walls, to the irritation of the holographic characters. Holodeck players—young college students, middle-aged parents with their young children, even people the Doctor recognized as relatives of the actual Voyager crew—were all smiling and laughing enthusiastically, as they showed off their unique "mobile emitters" and costumes of the characters. He saw teenagers and Starfleet cadets, dressed as the narrator with his robe and pipe, or as Captain Jenkins brandishing her exotic guns, several even going as Jenkins' first victim (complete with a phaser blast on the chest), or inanimate objects in the background that they for whatever reason found amusing. Hairy, bearded men disturbingly sporting Three of Eight's low-topped biosuit and "Borg jewelry;" young girls dressed as Lt. Marseille, grinning behind exaggerated faux mustaches; a housewife walking around inside a giant blown-up hologram of the wall panel displaying the ingredients for Bolian Pudding.

"This is a disaster!" Reg whispered, wide-eyed.

"As I said to Haley, this is 'karma,'" the Doctor grumbled. "It's what I deserve, for insulting my friends, and for skipping the editing and re-write processes a proper writer suffers through. I'm now doomed to be stalked by an army of low-brow B-movie fans, just like Tom Paris."

"Tom Paris has 'B-movie fans?'" Barclay asked, misunderstanding the Doctor's comment.

"I think I'm about finished here," the Doctor closed the article. "You said you had those samples, Haley?"

The Doctor did all he could to purge "Photons be Free" from his mind for the rest of the day, but his impeccable memory files made it difficult. And then, just as he was closing down for the day, his monitor beeped. Answering the call, he was mildly surprised to find Tom Paris on the screen.

"Hey Doc!" Voyager's former conn officer, now piloting escort ships through tricky territories for Starfleet, stood in his and B'Elanna's living room. "You get the letter I sent you?"

"I received the article," the Doctor replied. "Very funny."

"But you didn't read my letter?"

The Doctor thought it over. "I suppose not. I didn't realize there was one. I must've been so distracted by that article…"

"So you didn't read about my idea then?"

"For…?"

"The Reunion." Tom jogged his memory files. "The Voyager anniversary reunion?"

"Oh, of course! I'd almost forgot. That's coming up, isn't it."

"Yeah. And I wanna do a 'Photons be Free' showing for it. Admiral Janeway loves the idea, and she's agreed to let me host. I've already booked the holosuite in San Francisco."

"On second thought, I might be busy that evening," the Doctor said irritably.

"Doc," Tom begged, "Come on. We need someone to play 'the Doctor,' lead the group through the program. And who better than," he shrugged, and gestured at the screen, "the Doctor?"

"No-thank you."

"Why not? It'd be a great way for us to look back at our mission. Your program's like a perfect parody of the Voyager journey!"

"I doubt Seven wants to see herself humiliated again by 'Three of Eight,'" the Doctor countered.

"I just talked to Seven and Chakotay, they're already putting their costumes together. They're gonna out-do Three of Eight and Katanay in Borg jewelry and tattoos. Everyone's gonna be dressed as ridiculous and skanky as possible, that's part of the tradition. B'Elanna's helping Miral make her mobile emitter right now. Come on Doc,"

Five years after Voyager's return, Miral Paris would be five exactly. (Janeway always made an effort not to schedule the reunions on the exact date of the anniversary, so the girl wouldn't have her birthday usurped.) The Doctor could only imagine what kind of "mobile emitter" the kindergarten-aged daughter of Voyager's chief engineer might concoct. Truth, he was curious. And though his old torch for Seven of Nine had (mostly) burned out years ago, he was also rather anxious to see how she planned to "outdo" Three of Eight.

"I'll think about it," the hologram finally replied.

Tom took this as a definite yes. "You won't regret it Doc!"

The Doctor sighed as the pilot signed off.

"Photons be Free," the Doctor muttered. "Ironic title, for my new ball and chain."

There seemed to be no way out of this. The showing was happening, and if the Doctor refused to take part, all it would accomplish would be disappointment from his comrades. Well, he figured, might as well start refreshing his painfully-accurate memory on everything he'd done wrong with that program, to prepare himself for the inevitable heckling.

He pulled up the old review from Antonio Kusanagi, probably the most famous and respected holo-critic of the era.

I have played a lot of sloppily-written holonovels in my thirty-three years as a holo-critic. Damn sloppy holonovels. But 'Photons be Free' takes the cake.

Where can one even begin with this incredible turkey of a program? The clumsily written plot? The lazy visuals? The infantile attempts at 'drama?' The numerous ways this program is so astoundingly offensive to so many different groups? If I had to summarize this program in one sentence, I'd say that it plays like a wish-fulfillment story written by a five-year-old, with visuals designed by the drunk baby-sitter.

I normally begin reviews with a synopsis: "Photons be Free" chronicles the 'struggles' of an emergency medical hologram, aboard a Federation ship lost in the Delta Quadrant, the U.S.S. 'Vortex.' Any similarities to current famous, Federation ships lost in the Delta Quadrant are purely coincidental, of course. From here on, it is difficult to summarize the plot of "Photons be Free," since there is no plot. After a ten-minute introduction (in which the author summarizes the entire story's thesis for the audience, rendering the entire rest of the program pointless-all while dressed like Sherlock Holmes in his private study, for some reason), we spend the rest of the program following the Doctor through one bizarre "plot twist" after another. After stumbling past a murder, an adulterous affair, and an unusually short "chase scene," our hero finally meets a "tragic end" as his program is decompiled, for…reasons.

The only consistent storyline is the abuse the protagonist receives from his shipmates, for no apparent reason other than that they see him as "a tool." At this point I'll note that this type of prejudice is indeed an injustice against sentient holograms, and must be addressed; but this is not the way to address it. The prejudice that holograms (and most oppressed peoples through history) suffer is far more subtle than what is presented here. Being treated as a "tool" is dehumanizing, perhaps one of the worst crimes against humanity (or holograms) there is. But it doesn't look like this. Do people normally go out of their way to insult and harass what they see as inanimate objects? Once in a while under stress, perhaps; but every waking moment of every day? This program is, if anything, harmful to hologram rights. Such an over-the-top, cartoonish presentation is likely to make organic players roll their eyes and dismiss the hologram rights movement altogether.

The other problem that hinders the author's message is his own hypocrisy. "Photons be Free" is littered with prejudices and insulting portrayals. To start with, the obvious fact that it's based on the Voyager crew. Maybe this was all some deliberate, stealth insult the Doctor had planned, to pay back shipmates for years of insults from them. If so, he could've done so without forcing the rest of us to lose two hours of our lives for it. Racism and sexism also run rampant in this program. For someone calling for holograms to be seen as individuals, the author sees no problem generalizing other groups. The Bajoran first officer is an outrageous caricature, that might've had a place in the racist cartoon shorts of the early twentieth century (had the Warner Bros. known about Bajorns). The superiority complex we Humans are stereotyped to have (perhaps not unfairly) is cranked up to eleven with the Human characters. The portrayal of women is downright medieval; all of the female characters are either heinous vipers, or succulent vixens. In general, the portrayal of all the Vortex crewmembers—who are written so flatly that they make the screen you're reading this review on seem three-dimensional—reveal the Doctor's own bigotry against organics. All non-holograms are vicious, permanently ill-tempered trolls—except, of course, the human sex-kitten who sympathizes with the Doctor, because she's just bedazzled by how amazing he is.

As one can see, the offensive content of this program provides more than enough fuel for a negative review. And yet, I haven't even reached the literary and artistic problems with this holonovel, which almost put the tactlessness to shame. Shall I even bother going into detail about the clumsy writing and lazy visuals? Major "plot twists" and characters are introduced out of nowhere, only for them to vanish as quickly as they arrived. The ten minutes wasted on the redundant introduction would have been better used in other areas of the story; for instance, Chapters 2, 3 and 4, which appear to be missing.

And finally, the visuals. I truly can't believe I'm wasting a paragraph on this little annoyance, given the far more pressing problems with the program. But the visuals of "Photons be Free" are honesty painful on the eyes. Characters look like they just rolled out of bed. Commander Katanay's tattoo is slapped onto his face so crookedly it runs over his lip. Lt. Marseille's mustache has no right to exist outside of a porn program. And it's hard to see Three of Eight as the lust object she's meant to be, with that burgundy suit clashing so hideously with her red hair. On that note, Lt. Marseilles seems to have a very specific taste in women; the second mistress who arrives for her "physical" is identical to the first, save a change in uniform color. (Were they meant to be identical twins? Or were we just not supposed to notice?) The background imagery makes no sense. Why is the Vortex permanently on Red Alert? What are those odd colors flashing around the various screens and consoles meant to signify? Did I see the ingredients for some Bolian dish over the biobed of the crewmember that Captain Janeway—sorry, Captain 'Jenkins'—murdered?

I won't even waste time on the ludicrous "mobile emitter," and how hauling around a half-ton backpack can hinder one's ability to focus on a story. Though in this case, the discomfort may be a welcome distraction from the agony of playing this god-awful holonovel.

Oh what a sad, sad program.

Some might argue that the program's quality can be attributed to its author being a hologram, but I know better. Having plenty of experience interacting with holograms, including sentient ones, I know that they are generally just as intelligent as a flesh-and-blood human, often more-so. Voyager's EMH is already renowned for his various accomplishments, famed a multi-talented sentient hologram. Clearly, writing is not one of those talents.

The Doctor slowly closed the review.

Antonio Kusanagi had written a far more positive one of "Children of Light" and commended his literary improvement, even going so far as to postulate that the Doctor's program had been malfunctioning when he'd written "Photons be Free," to explain the difference in quality between the two stories.

What self-deprecating jokes could the Doctor make out of that review, that wouldn't already be covered by his old comrades and the "fan script?" Tal Celes and Liat Tabor, who'd initially been quite offended by Katanay, now had a bank of "racist" Bajoran jokes any time the topic came up in conversation. Admiral Janeway, B'Elanna, and a few other women of Voyager had an infinite amount of PMS jokes up their sleeves to sling at Captain Jenkins and Torrey. Seven and Chakotay were clearly in charge of parodying Three of Eight and Katanay's "visuals." What could the Doctor snark about? The mobile emitter? How sorry he was he'd ever written this wretched program?

Knowing there was only one person who could help him in the department of humor, the Doctor reluctantly re-dialed Lt. Commander Paris's number.

The screen opened to Tom and B'Elanna's living room, where the latter was helping their daughter work on some bizarre sculpture crafted from scrap parts—her "mobile emitter?" Tom held their recently born son, rocking the boy to sleep. The Doctor had delivered Robbie Paris at B'Elanna's insistence, just as he had Miral. The boy looked remarkably like Tom, down to the blue eyes and dirty-blonde hair, save his mother's cranial ridges.

"Hey Doc!" Tom's enthusiasm said that he needed no explanation for the Doctor's call at this hour.

The Doctor grimaced. "Any suggestions as to how I go about this?"

A/N: The inspiration for the "Photons be Free" showings comes from real life public showings of "Rocky Horror Picture Show" (1975) and "the Room." (2003) I won't go into details about the parallels between "Photons be Free" and those two movies. If you're a fan of "Rocky Horror" and/or "the Room," then you can probably figure out the similarities.

All the flaws and mistakes in "Photons" that this story points out are real, except for the wall panels showing Bolian pudding and Kadis-Kot; those I made those up. I wanted something for the audience to throw during the program (a la the spoons from "The Room," and the rice and toast from "Rocky Horror").

Finally, for those wondering, "Robbie Paris" isn't just a reference to Tom's actor; he's supposed to be named after Robert Louis Stevenson. Since Miral's name reflected on B'Elanna's character, I wanted the son's to reflect on Tom's, by giving him a name from Tom's love for sea-centric literature.