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ptahrrific) wrote2008-08-11 10:52 pm
ptahrrific) wrote2008-08-11 10:52 pm
Entry tags:
Doctor Who/Fake News: A Thousand Words, part 1
Title: Truthiness And Relative Dimensions In Space: A Thousand Wørds (1/5)
Rating: PG
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: Anything through New Who S3 is fair game.
Summary: Young Stephen is introduced to the TARDIS, while adult Stephen walks right in and makes himself at home.
Table of contents, and footnotes, here.
A Thousand Wørds
Part One
Earth: 1964.
The Doctor is in his fourth incarnation. Stephen Colbert is 44. Sarah Jane Smith is 29.
"You just had . . . to make fun . . . of their hats . . . didn't you?" panted Sarah Jane as she raced into the TARDIS.
"It wasn't my fault!" protested Stephen, managing to sound remarkably frustrated for someone who was completely out of breath. "I tried to be diplomatic . . . I really did . . . but they had really stupid hats!"
"They also had guns!" cried Sarah Jane, slamming the door behind them.
"Being heavily armed . . . does not preclude them . . . from making terrible fashion choices!" shouted Stephen over the racket of the TARDIS dematerializing. As the ship settled into the relative calm of flight, he leaned against the wall, clutching his chest. "Phew! Haven't run that fast . . . since Helen Thomas came after me."
"You have to do a lot of running with the Doctor. You remember that bit, right?"
"Of course I remember it," said Stephen testily. "I'm just . . . not as young as I used to be. Gonna go lie down for a bit."
"Not a bad idea," put in the Doctor. "By this point you've both been up for more than twenty hours. Off you go, Sarah Jane. Now, Stephen, we'll need to find you a room . . . ."
"Oh, that's fine. I'll just take my old one."
⇔
The Vortex.
The Doctor is in his tenth incarnation. Stephen Col-bert is 17. Jack Harkness is much too old for you.
Stephen couldn't stop turning his head.
The corridors of the TARDIS were so familiar to Jack by now as to be almost boring; but the kid, who had never even been off his own planet, seemed eager to take in every detail of every wall as though it were the frozen sapphire waterfalls of Midnight.
Not only was his enthusiasm adorable, it was catching. Jack still didn't know why the Doctor was so irritated by Stephen's presence, but somehow he no longer felt too worried about it.
"And this," he declared, swinging open the door the Doctor had specified, "is your room!"
⇔
The Vortex.
The Doctor is in his fourth incarnation. Stephen Colbert is 44.
"This is my room?"
"Depends," said the Doctor with a shrug. "Do you want this one?"
Stephen looked around the sterile white chamber, trying not to look as crushed as he felt. "You didn't rearrange the rooms somehow, did you?"
"I wouldn't know."
Oh, right. Stupid timeline-crossing continuity-breaking paradox thing. "Are you going to rearrange them, then?"
"I wasn't planning on it. Why? Do you think I should?"
"No! This room is in the same place as the room you gave me, and you should keep it there! But all my stuff is gone! Where's the Delphon-English dictionary? Where's the megadodo skull? Where's the lumpy purple thing with the blinky lights? Where is the mirror?"
"Oh, don't be silly," said the Doctor briskly. "As far as the TARDIS is concerned, you've never been here before. I'm sure you can get everything together in good time. Meanwhile, you'll get along fine with what's here."
"Doctor, I don't think you understand," said Stephen gravely. "There is no mirror in my room."
"There's bound to be a few somewhere on the ship. We can hunt them up tomorrow, see if there's one that catches your fancy . . . ."
"Well," allowed Stephen, drawing out every other word as though he were pulling taffy, "I suppose I could wait all the way until tomorrow . . . it's only a mirror . . . I could sleep without one . . . ."
"That's the spirit!" said the Doctor cheerfully. "Good night!"
⇔
The Vortex.
Stephen Col-bert is 17. Jack Harkness is older than at least one variety of dirt.
Stephen's mouth dropped open. He put a foot across the threshold, then hesitated, struck by the irrational feeling that it would all disappear if he went any farther. "This . . . is all for me?"
"That it is," said Captain Jack, grinning in a way that made Stephen feel sort of wibbly in the knees. "Go on, check it out!"
With the Captain watching, Stephen darted around the room, opening drawers and picking things up to examine them more closely. "This is awesome!" he gushed. "How did the Doctor know I was coming?"
"He didn't."
"But he had this room set up for me, right?"
"Well, sort of. He has a bit of a habit of picking up humans to tag along with him. Been doing it for centuries now. So he has a lot of rooms ready for us."
"But . . . ."
Stephen trailed off. The room wasn't just set up to meet the needs of a generic human. There were too many things that seemed tailored to his interests—the water bed he had always wanted, the sculpture that looked like a whole fish trapped in amber, the book with a 2007 publication date and J. R. R. Tolkien's name on the spine. It couldn't just be coincidence.
Could it?
"Hang on," he said, belatedly realizing what Jack had implied. "You said 'us.' Are you human?"
"Yep. Well, everyone in my era has a little alien somewhere in the family tree, but I'm more than 99% human."
"Ah, don't worry about that," Stephen assured him, trying not to look too disappointed at Jack's mundanity. "My family tree looks like a Brillo pad. Wait—'your era'? When are you from?"
Jack winked at him. "Fifty-first century."
The disappointment vanished in a fresh wave of excitement. "Seriously? That's so cool! Can I ask you something?"
"I might not be able to answer, but shoot."
A thousand questions crowded into Stephen's mind, about life and technology and politics and how famous he had been; but one of them muscled its way to the fore. "How many new Tolkien books have been published by then?"
⇔
The Vortex.
The Doctor is in his fourth incarnation. Stephen Colbert is 44.
The Doctor shook his head as he strode down the corridor. "Doesn't think he can handle a room without a mirror!" he said to himself. "What will I have been thinking, picking up someone like this? I hope I knew what I'll be doing."
He turned a corner. "And what in the universe could he have meant by 'lumpy purple thing with the blinky lights'? Am I going to have to hunt through intergalactic jumble sales until I find . . . ."
The Doctor stopped in his tracks.
"Unless," he said out loud, voice echoing down the halls of the TARDIS, "it was a . . . but no. No, it can't be. It's absolutely impossible."
He thought about this for a moment, then added, "Which, given my track record, means it's probably true."
Doing an about-face, he retraced his steps at a run.
Moments later, he was throwing open his new Companion's door. "When you said 'lumpy purple thing with the blinky lights', were you—oh."
Stephen was sprawled on the bed on his stomach, eyes closed, breathing soft and even.
He hadn't even taken the time to change out of his suit.
"Well," said the Doctor aloud, but quietly this time, "I suppose it can wait until tomorrow."
Rating: PG
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: Anything through New Who S3 is fair game.
Summary: Young Stephen is introduced to the TARDIS, while adult Stephen walks right in and makes himself at home.
Table of contents, and footnotes, here.
A Thousand Wørds
Part One
Earth: 1964.
The Doctor is in his fourth incarnation. Stephen Colbert is 44. Sarah Jane Smith is 29.
"You just had . . . to make fun . . . of their hats . . . didn't you?" panted Sarah Jane as she raced into the TARDIS.
"It wasn't my fault!" protested Stephen, managing to sound remarkably frustrated for someone who was completely out of breath. "I tried to be diplomatic . . . I really did . . . but they had really stupid hats!"
"They also had guns!" cried Sarah Jane, slamming the door behind them.
"Being heavily armed . . . does not preclude them . . . from making terrible fashion choices!" shouted Stephen over the racket of the TARDIS dematerializing. As the ship settled into the relative calm of flight, he leaned against the wall, clutching his chest. "Phew! Haven't run that fast . . . since Helen Thomas came after me."
"You have to do a lot of running with the Doctor. You remember that bit, right?"
"Of course I remember it," said Stephen testily. "I'm just . . . not as young as I used to be. Gonna go lie down for a bit."
"Not a bad idea," put in the Doctor. "By this point you've both been up for more than twenty hours. Off you go, Sarah Jane. Now, Stephen, we'll need to find you a room . . . ."
"Oh, that's fine. I'll just take my old one."
The Vortex.
The Doctor is in his tenth incarnation. Stephen Col-bert is 17. Jack Harkness is much too old for you.
Stephen couldn't stop turning his head.
The corridors of the TARDIS were so familiar to Jack by now as to be almost boring; but the kid, who had never even been off his own planet, seemed eager to take in every detail of every wall as though it were the frozen sapphire waterfalls of Midnight.
Not only was his enthusiasm adorable, it was catching. Jack still didn't know why the Doctor was so irritated by Stephen's presence, but somehow he no longer felt too worried about it.
"And this," he declared, swinging open the door the Doctor had specified, "is your room!"
The Vortex.
The Doctor is in his fourth incarnation. Stephen Colbert is 44.
"This is my room?"
"Depends," said the Doctor with a shrug. "Do you want this one?"
Stephen looked around the sterile white chamber, trying not to look as crushed as he felt. "You didn't rearrange the rooms somehow, did you?"
"I wouldn't know."
Oh, right. Stupid timeline-crossing continuity-breaking paradox thing. "Are you going to rearrange them, then?"
"I wasn't planning on it. Why? Do you think I should?"
"No! This room is in the same place as the room you gave me, and you should keep it there! But all my stuff is gone! Where's the Delphon-English dictionary? Where's the megadodo skull? Where's the lumpy purple thing with the blinky lights? Where is the mirror?"
"Oh, don't be silly," said the Doctor briskly. "As far as the TARDIS is concerned, you've never been here before. I'm sure you can get everything together in good time. Meanwhile, you'll get along fine with what's here."
"Doctor, I don't think you understand," said Stephen gravely. "There is no mirror in my room."
"There's bound to be a few somewhere on the ship. We can hunt them up tomorrow, see if there's one that catches your fancy . . . ."
"Well," allowed Stephen, drawing out every other word as though he were pulling taffy, "I suppose I could wait all the way until tomorrow . . . it's only a mirror . . . I could sleep without one . . . ."
"That's the spirit!" said the Doctor cheerfully. "Good night!"
The Vortex.
Stephen Col-bert is 17. Jack Harkness is older than at least one variety of dirt.
Stephen's mouth dropped open. He put a foot across the threshold, then hesitated, struck by the irrational feeling that it would all disappear if he went any farther. "This . . . is all for me?"
"That it is," said Captain Jack, grinning in a way that made Stephen feel sort of wibbly in the knees. "Go on, check it out!"
With the Captain watching, Stephen darted around the room, opening drawers and picking things up to examine them more closely. "This is awesome!" he gushed. "How did the Doctor know I was coming?"
"He didn't."
"But he had this room set up for me, right?"
"Well, sort of. He has a bit of a habit of picking up humans to tag along with him. Been doing it for centuries now. So he has a lot of rooms ready for us."
"But . . . ."
Stephen trailed off. The room wasn't just set up to meet the needs of a generic human. There were too many things that seemed tailored to his interests—the water bed he had always wanted, the sculpture that looked like a whole fish trapped in amber, the book with a 2007 publication date and J. R. R. Tolkien's name on the spine. It couldn't just be coincidence.
Could it?
"Hang on," he said, belatedly realizing what Jack had implied. "You said 'us.' Are you human?"
"Yep. Well, everyone in my era has a little alien somewhere in the family tree, but I'm more than 99% human."
"Ah, don't worry about that," Stephen assured him, trying not to look too disappointed at Jack's mundanity. "My family tree looks like a Brillo pad. Wait—'your era'? When are you from?"
Jack winked at him. "Fifty-first century."
The disappointment vanished in a fresh wave of excitement. "Seriously? That's so cool! Can I ask you something?"
"I might not be able to answer, but shoot."
A thousand questions crowded into Stephen's mind, about life and technology and politics and how famous he had been; but one of them muscled its way to the fore. "How many new Tolkien books have been published by then?"
The Vortex.
The Doctor is in his fourth incarnation. Stephen Colbert is 44.
The Doctor shook his head as he strode down the corridor. "Doesn't think he can handle a room without a mirror!" he said to himself. "What will I have been thinking, picking up someone like this? I hope I knew what I'll be doing."
He turned a corner. "And what in the universe could he have meant by 'lumpy purple thing with the blinky lights'? Am I going to have to hunt through intergalactic jumble sales until I find . . . ."
The Doctor stopped in his tracks.
"Unless," he said out loud, voice echoing down the halls of the TARDIS, "it was a . . . but no. No, it can't be. It's absolutely impossible."
He thought about this for a moment, then added, "Which, given my track record, means it's probably true."
Doing an about-face, he retraced his steps at a run.
Moments later, he was throwing open his new Companion's door. "When you said 'lumpy purple thing with the blinky lights', were you—oh."
Stephen was sprawled on the bed on his stomach, eyes closed, breathing soft and even.
He hadn't even taken the time to change out of his suit.
"Well," said the Doctor aloud, but quietly this time, "I suppose it can wait until tomorrow."