В «Звёздном пути» число 47 стало вечной пасхалкой для выпускников колледжа Помона

Needless to say, I survived my oral surgery Monday morning. This surgery involved removing gum tissue that was slowly enveloping a back molar, much the way the Blob swallowed a mechanic. My hour in the chair began with a comically large syringe to inject my gum with an anesthetic and continued with a mild panic attack, a side effect of the numbing agent. The periodontist suggested a break. We talked about baseball. Once sufficiently calm, I retreated to a Zen space while the periodontist sliced, diced and sewed me up. He told me I’d done well. I was given an ice pack and told to ice for 20-minute periods throughout the day. Also comically large was the size of the check I had to write. This will be offset by whatever minuscule fraction the insurance company deigns to contribute. On my way home, picking up my meds, I noticed the clinic was also giving flu shots. Well, why not? I was there. That bonus task accomplished, I went home with an ice pack on one cheek and a Band-Aid on one arm. I didn’t do anything significant the rest of the day. (Do I ever?) As directed, I ate soft foods, chewing on the opposite side of my mouth, and took a Tylenol every few hours, read a little and napped. I iced only once when my jaw ached. I’d expected worse, frankly. I slept better than usual. As I write this Tuesday morning, I feel like myself, mostly. However, my left cheek is temporarily, but noticeably, swollen. In the bathroom mirror, my face looked dismayingly Nixonian. If we speak in person, I will turn my good side to you. If you must, you can call me Puff Daddy. Or Puff Davy. This might be why they told me to ice my cheek. Update: The periodontist just phoned to check on me. He encouraged me to drink cold drinks and to eat “frozen yogurt or ice cream.” Is this for legitimate medical purposes? I will save the receipts, just in case. While I’d said here Sunday that I might skip today, writing a low-stakes column gives me an excuse to run a long, leftover item on a recent topic. Keep reading for that. 47 Borgs As noted here Aug. 23, Pomona College likes to draw a connection between alumnus Joe Menosky (class of 1979) and “Star Trek: The Next Generation” (1987-1994). The show sometimes made use of the number 47, a campus in-joke that touts it as the universe’s most common random number. And the alien race known as the Borg may have its origin in the nickname for the college’s Oldenborg Center for Modern Languages, or so the college says. One “Trek” fan emailed to offer a tactful correction. “As a lifelong Trekkie,” Jacob Realo writes, “I want to tell you how everything you wrote in your piece was incorrect.” Blunting his triumph somewhat, Realo does confirm the existence of a series named “Star Trek” and did not dispute that I write Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. I will take my victories where I find them. More specifically, he hones in on the alleged Pomona College connection to the Borg and 47. About the Borg, Realo says a “Next Generation” showrunner once explained that the name was derived from “cyborg.” On its face, I’d say there’s a good chance of that being the case. But let me offer a caveat. That explanation doesn’t preclude a writers’ room discussion in which Oldenborg was batted about, does it? TV writing is a group project, after all. And if I were trying to establish that my TV show was serious science fiction, linking the Borg to cyborgs is classier than linking it to a nickname for one writer’s college dorm. However, about 47, Realo is on shakier ground. He takes on faith a “Trek” producer’s joke that 47 is “42, corrected for inflation,” a riff on how writer Douglas Adams posited that the ultimate answer to life, the universe and everything is 42. That’s cute, but it hardly explains why they used 47. Menosky, it turns out, gave an interview to Pomona College Magazine in 2005 on that subject. “I was a freshman in Wig Hall, and Eric Level (the resident adviser), was a 47-fascinated math major who passed (the lore) on to the rest of the dorm,” Menosky told the magazine’s Noah Buhayar. Menosky and Level corresponded after graduation and kept up a running tally of “sightings” of 47 in the world. (Parenthetically, I do that myself and I’m not even an alum, just a neighbor. When a Riverside parking structure’s sign a few weeks ago announced in lights that the number of empty spaces was 47, I snapped a photo. If a baseball player’s number is 47, if that’s my order number, if that’s the charge percentage on my Fitbit, I notice and smirk.) Buhayar wrote that when Menosky joined the “Trek” staff in 1990, “he began slipping the number into scripts. More importantly, he convinced his co-writers to do the same. Before long, the number became an ‘in-joke’ with the staff.” Menosky explained: “It seemed like placing 47s rather than just spotting them would be a way to continue the reference for any alumni who happened to watch the series.” Pause on that a moment. “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” a hit TV series, included references to 47 largely as a wink to any graduates of a small liberal arts college who might happen to tune in and notice. The mind boggles. The number was slipped into the show so naturally — a wine vintage, a sick room ward number, the number of seconds a medic said someone was unconscious, etc. — that the higher-ups didn’t notice. Finally, though, a producer was tipped off and further references to 47 were banned. “But by then,” Menosky added, “the 47-Trek connection was already all over the internet.” In the years since, 47 has turned up in various “Star Trek” series, movies and games, making the in-joke part of the Trek tradition. The number is indeed everywhere. brIEfly The Apple Store was an original tenant at Rancho Cucamonga’s Victoria Gardens when the outdoor mall opened in 2004. Apple was a first for the Inland Empire, signifying a coming of age for the IE. (It’s still rare: With an Apple Store in Promenade Temecula, the IE now has two.) At Victoria Gardens, where the original storefront space has been undergoing a remodel, the Apple Store reopens at 10 a.m. Sept. 12. David Allen gets a charge out of things Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Email [email protected], phone 909-483-9339, and follow davidallencolumnist on Facebook or Instagram, @davidallen909 on X or @davidallen909.bsky.social on Bluesky.