[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)
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDelete