[When we last left Rachel, she was exiting her TARDIS in search of a puppy sized elephant. This is not where this story resumes. Like Douglas Adams's short run on the writing staff of a certain British telly program which was quite popular in the 70's, some things are lost and unaired. The chronicle of how the elephants Rachel currently holds may someday resurface in a lonely thrift shop on Charon, but that might be addressed later.]
"Have I mentioned how much of a letdown these elephants are?" Rachel grumbled, poking one with her sonic sharpie. It jumped and landed with a charming *clump* in the hatbox, causing the second to whistle in its sleep. The third puppy proboscidean was trapped in a cycle of trumpeting in a panicked fashion until it fainted and awoke again - Rachel's quickly decided this one would be MK's, so she named it Picante. The lethargic specimen was Dumbledwarf, and the first unfortunate victim was Cumbersnout. Rachel's initial period of delighted amusement had slowly diminished with the responsible reality of caring for the three's needs. "This is why I don't have kids. Though it is kinda funny to toss their excrement into space, I wonder how science will explain THAT!" She smiled at the ridiculous notion. "Cosmic Elephants will make a great reality show on Discovery or something." "Scribe!" the onboard interface broke into her visions of episodic focuses and specials. "The temporal window for reconciling this temporal anomaly is dwindling rapidly. You should -." "HEY!" Rachel yelled, looking up at the holographic image. "I am the important adventurer here in a time machine that goes anywhere in the universe - You are the computer solvey thing that does all the calculations and nyan cat rainbows of science. I do my thing, you make sure I can keep doing it, kapisch? I click 'Don't send' or 'register later'."
"This is the twenty-third time this topic has been postponed, even for a Timelady of your reputation, this is most irregular." Rachel waved away the information, got up off the floor, then stopped. "What is my reputation? I forget sometimes. Is amnesia a side effect that came with the last regeneration?" "Negative," The core replied, "The origin of the condition which you are querying has a greater probability of stemming from alcohol intoxication on your base planet." "Touche." Rachel smirked. "Speaking of which, I want to restock our supplies, it is a 'creative necessity.' Stop off at a planet or time that has an excellent beverage selection." "There are three destinations which remain viable in my coordinate system - Tea with Jane Austen on Aug. 27, 1815; 'Charon's Trachea' on Pluto's orbital satellite, Stardate: Cellist-4561.7; or 'Unicorn Dreams' on Hubron in the Nether Days." Rachel considered these. "Seeing that I HAVE to see Jane Austen eventually to receive this title personally, I'll do that later. I choose 'Unicorn Dreams'." The TARDIS sighed softly, condensing tendrils of resignation as the lighting pulsed rhythmically.
"Your destination, Scribe. Powering down to maximize geocentric pinpointing throughout the vortex entry areas. Protocol dictates that the traveler operate in a responsible and level-headed manner during this procedure. Internal opinion based on observation of your behavioral patterns over the course of your reactivation as a passenger indicate strongly that you will ignore this as a suggestion." "Thank you for your understanding. You're really great too."
As Rachel exited her time vehicle, the first impression she noticed was the Silence. She ignored the taut air of tension and soon forgot it in the light of the next thing she noticed. The ground was strewn with notebook paper, mechanical pencils, broken laptops, and highlighters. There were people among the ruins, if they could be called as much, shells and shadows of higher life forms. Rachel approached one despondent fellow and kicked him lightly on the shin. He moaned and looked up. "What is it? There's been only horrendous news in here, the more knowledge I have, the greater the burden of despair." "Do I even want to ask what your problem is?" She waited a beat out of a sense of courtesy - she had opened this dialogue by kicking him after all. "Are you new here or are you one of those delusional believers in the legend of the Scribe? You know that the Scribe's coming is as likely as black forest cake for everybody - 'tis but a deception!" Rachel, who had been thinking about taking her chances with some friendlier person, became interested. "How many people do you see believing in that stuff?" The man waved his hand, "Too many, even though the Scribe's predicted arrival date has come and gone three weeks. This person is supposed to arrive and defeat the Silence that rules over this land. Many have tried and failed to craft the solution to the problem. It counters our best efforts, the words we sow have no space in which to grow and bear fruit. We need to accept this barrenness - our writing utensils are worn down, our ends are left incomplete. Those still in denial hold out hope that the Scribe will lead us out of this limbo."
Rachel began to understand, "Are you a writer?" The man laughed mirthlessly, "I used to be, we all did, but now our true colors are shown - we were nothing but pretenders. Who are we to believe we have something to say that can change anything? I dabbled in fiction, now I am converted to realism."
Rachel stared him down, "If you were an instrument, you would be a kazoo. Yeah, everyone is happy that you have something, but when you try to use it, all you really do is blow. I don't really like your one note drone, so I'm going to talk to someone else. Keep on working at it, maybe one day you'll have something to trumpet about." With her thoughts made clear, Rachel turned and walked away. She miscalculated a sheaf of notes, however, and turned her left ankle. "That is going to smart tomorrow. " She muttered, limping. "Nice way to exit stage right..."
[Note: Now that I am invested in this, I'll continue this in another post tomorrow. I haven't a set ending in mind, but I would hate to have my friend not succeed or something. Be forewarned that I am afraid of happy endings - they feel like a cop-out on originality and sincerity to the reader.]
Friday, August 24, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
Kiley - FanFic
[Initial Disclaimer: I have had a bad history with short stories being taken for deeper meaning. If you find any, be sure to tell me - maybe I can learn why my mind associates things the way it does. But, as the reading of things reveals just as much about the reader's perspective coming into the story, it might be your mirror instead. I don't understand the full meaning behind this phrase, it sounds good so I'll leave it intact]
{Introduction: This is inspired by my friend @RachelKiley from Twitter, who recently took a leave of absence for an undisclosed reason. Her last tweet was, "Lighting Twitter on fire and watching it burn. See you in September, unless the smoke clears. #itwont" Although this appears to be on the surface a Joker/Green Day quote hybridization, I tend to overthink things to a fanciful degree and my mind ran with the following threads. I wish that most of it was accurate, or if nothing else, that Rachel derives some odd pleasure of having not only two Tumblr pages dedicated to her memory, but a rough fan fiction as well.}
It was yet another dark night at Casa de Kiley, and Rachel distracted herself by indulging in a non-canonical script. Sighing contentedly, she reached to her left for her wine glass to further lubricate the gears of her imagination, only to notice it empty. This was a problem - to get up and lose her train of thought's momentum, or go without the lovely co-authorship of the Muse of Alcoholic inspiration. "Why is the wine always gone?" She sparrowed to herself. Glancing reluctantly at the kitchen area twelve feet, five inches distant, she levered herself off the keyboard of her laptop, washing the room with the glow of the awakened screen. As she made her brief pilgrimage, she tripped over something in the dimness of her apartment floor. Hopping on one foot for balance, she grumbled, "Should probably clean up more often around here. I'll do it on Saturday. Is this Tuesday night? I've never gotten the hang of-" She was interrupted by a sound of a sudden breeze sweeping through the room. The faint outline of a box materialized, then faded. Rachel's respiratory system skipped half a dozen beats, then resumed at double pace to compensate. The noise began again, this time crescendoing in the box coming into focus, revealing itself to be... Brown in color? Apple rich nonetheless, but wasn't it supposed to be police blue? Rachel was quite put out by the oversight, but her curiosity was revived by when the doors hissed open. "Welcome Scribe, your TARDIS is fueled & ready."
Rachel, still clutching her empty wine glass, stepped inside. There she found all the flashing lights and burbling noises a Gallifreyan could desire. However, given that Rachel was of the human variety, these were seen as not nearly enough. Which brought her to the most pressing point on hand. "Where is the Doctor?" Her eyes swept the interior, finally resting on a holographic image of a young woman. "Are you injured?" The voice chirped politely, its features shifting to appropriate concern. Rachel paused, "No, it's just that I expect the madman to come as a package deal with the box." "Who?" The image responded. "Yes! Exactly." Rachel filled in eagerly. The glowing lady looked genuinely perplexed by this turn in the conversation, then rallied. "Please state the name of the subject in question to proceed." "Oh," Rachel said, shoulders resting. "I was rather hoping that you could tell me that. I would be the envy of all the Whovians on earth. Something that only Alex Kingston, Steven Moffat, and now I would have known. Maybe even Russell T. Davies too, but given Moffat's run on the show, it might have been changed since the 'Silence in the Library' in season 4. Wait, that was written by Moffat wasn't it. Hmm... Wonder if it is like an inheritance on the show through the years to pass from head writer to head writer." Throughout this soliloquy, the holograph became blurred due to the amount of computation through its logic engines to provide answers. Finding none to its satisfaction to be reputable sources, the hologram cleared its resolution with a hum and pressed forward. "Scribe, shall we begin our odyssey?" "That is another thing - Why are you calling me that." Rachel waved her glass at the floating interface in a vaguely threatening manner. The machine replied dutifully. "It all will make sense two days from now when you meet Jane Austen and give her relationship suggestions for the characters in her novels. She will be amused by your twenty-first century ideas and grant you that title. A future timeline version of you will think this to be an excellent honor and demand that her TARDIS call her that in all continuities, including this one." "Wait, What?!" Rachel adjusted her glasses. "Hold up - Doesn't that mess with the 'wibbly wobbly timey wimey thing' with the time vortex as mentioned in 'Blink' by the 10th Doctor?" "Yes, but the future version of you was/is intoxicated at the moment of departure. She/you decided that the novelty of introducing present you to your destiny is worth the risk of screwing continuity. 'Rules are made to be broken, and I have a TARDIS or whatever.' is/was your exact quote." "Sounds about right," Rachel admitted, "First thing I want to do is capture my very own puppy sized elephant. I'll use it for the return of 'Lydia Bennet Diaries' as Mary Kate's new pet. That will give the tumblr masses something to gif about. Maybe John and Hank will want their own too. So, when can we start?" "Already arrived, in anticipation of your request. Future you named it -" Rachel interrupted. "Please stop talking like that, you... whatever you are - This is my first time 'round and I don't want any spoilers!"
[Endnote: This seemed to be all I could be bothered to capture today. If Rachel likes it, I might continue along this vein. I only have a few ideas where I would like to go with this. However, since I have never met her, I can only guess how Rachel would respond or what she would do with a TARDIS.]
"This is not how the World ends." - Jonathan Hickman; S.H.I.E.L.D. (2010)
{Introduction: This is inspired by my friend @RachelKiley from Twitter, who recently took a leave of absence for an undisclosed reason. Her last tweet was, "Lighting Twitter on fire and watching it burn. See you in September, unless the smoke clears. #itwont" Although this appears to be on the surface a Joker/Green Day quote hybridization, I tend to overthink things to a fanciful degree and my mind ran with the following threads. I wish that most of it was accurate, or if nothing else, that Rachel derives some odd pleasure of having not only two Tumblr pages dedicated to her memory, but a rough fan fiction as well.}
It was yet another dark night at Casa de Kiley, and Rachel distracted herself by indulging in a non-canonical script. Sighing contentedly, she reached to her left for her wine glass to further lubricate the gears of her imagination, only to notice it empty. This was a problem - to get up and lose her train of thought's momentum, or go without the lovely co-authorship of the Muse of Alcoholic inspiration. "Why is the wine always gone?" She sparrowed to herself. Glancing reluctantly at the kitchen area twelve feet, five inches distant, she levered herself off the keyboard of her laptop, washing the room with the glow of the awakened screen. As she made her brief pilgrimage, she tripped over something in the dimness of her apartment floor. Hopping on one foot for balance, she grumbled, "Should probably clean up more often around here. I'll do it on Saturday. Is this Tuesday night? I've never gotten the hang of-" She was interrupted by a sound of a sudden breeze sweeping through the room. The faint outline of a box materialized, then faded. Rachel's respiratory system skipped half a dozen beats, then resumed at double pace to compensate. The noise began again, this time crescendoing in the box coming into focus, revealing itself to be... Brown in color? Apple rich nonetheless, but wasn't it supposed to be police blue? Rachel was quite put out by the oversight, but her curiosity was revived by when the doors hissed open. "Welcome Scribe, your TARDIS is fueled & ready."
Rachel, still clutching her empty wine glass, stepped inside. There she found all the flashing lights and burbling noises a Gallifreyan could desire. However, given that Rachel was of the human variety, these were seen as not nearly enough. Which brought her to the most pressing point on hand. "Where is the Doctor?" Her eyes swept the interior, finally resting on a holographic image of a young woman. "Are you injured?" The voice chirped politely, its features shifting to appropriate concern. Rachel paused, "No, it's just that I expect the madman to come as a package deal with the box." "Who?" The image responded. "Yes! Exactly." Rachel filled in eagerly. The glowing lady looked genuinely perplexed by this turn in the conversation, then rallied. "Please state the name of the subject in question to proceed." "Oh," Rachel said, shoulders resting. "I was rather hoping that you could tell me that. I would be the envy of all the Whovians on earth. Something that only Alex Kingston, Steven Moffat, and now I would have known. Maybe even Russell T. Davies too, but given Moffat's run on the show, it might have been changed since the 'Silence in the Library' in season 4. Wait, that was written by Moffat wasn't it. Hmm... Wonder if it is like an inheritance on the show through the years to pass from head writer to head writer." Throughout this soliloquy, the holograph became blurred due to the amount of computation through its logic engines to provide answers. Finding none to its satisfaction to be reputable sources, the hologram cleared its resolution with a hum and pressed forward. "Scribe, shall we begin our odyssey?" "That is another thing - Why are you calling me that." Rachel waved her glass at the floating interface in a vaguely threatening manner. The machine replied dutifully. "It all will make sense two days from now when you meet Jane Austen and give her relationship suggestions for the characters in her novels. She will be amused by your twenty-first century ideas and grant you that title. A future timeline version of you will think this to be an excellent honor and demand that her TARDIS call her that in all continuities, including this one." "Wait, What?!" Rachel adjusted her glasses. "Hold up - Doesn't that mess with the 'wibbly wobbly timey wimey thing' with the time vortex as mentioned in 'Blink' by the 10th Doctor?" "Yes, but the future version of you was/is intoxicated at the moment of departure. She/you decided that the novelty of introducing present you to your destiny is worth the risk of screwing continuity. 'Rules are made to be broken, and I have a TARDIS or whatever.' is/was your exact quote." "Sounds about right," Rachel admitted, "First thing I want to do is capture my very own puppy sized elephant. I'll use it for the return of 'Lydia Bennet Diaries' as Mary Kate's new pet. That will give the tumblr masses something to gif about. Maybe John and Hank will want their own too. So, when can we start?" "Already arrived, in anticipation of your request. Future you named it -" Rachel interrupted. "Please stop talking like that, you... whatever you are - This is my first time 'round and I don't want any spoilers!"
[Endnote: This seemed to be all I could be bothered to capture today. If Rachel likes it, I might continue along this vein. I only have a few ideas where I would like to go with this. However, since I have never met her, I can only guess how Rachel would respond or what she would do with a TARDIS.]
"This is not how the World ends." - Jonathan Hickman; S.H.I.E.L.D. (2010)
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