Eleventh Doctor Ficlet: "Journey"
Apr. 12th, 2012 04:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alexandraerinTakes place after the series 6 finale, during the time when the Doctor is bouncing around on his own, trying to keep a low profile after having faked his death.
"Journey"
The Conveyor sat on the platform, sleek and silent and unmoving. It had no wings, or wheels, or thrusters, but there was something distinctly vehicular about it. It was a long, trapezoidal craft with no windows or viewports of any kind, though its designers had been mindful of the human preference for such and left indents in the hull in the spaces where such would have gone.
"Excuse me," the man in the Stetson hat said as he slipped his way to the front of the crowd waiting just outside the roped-off area around the Conveyor. "Pardon me. Just coming through. Excuse me."
He reached into an interior pocket of the long coat he wore over his tweed jacket and fiddled with something. There was a green light just visible in the darkness.
"Are you a cowboy?" a small voice said behind him
"Excuse me?" he said, looking around... and then down into the face of the child. His face broke out in a wide grin. "Ah, hello!"
"Only, I didn't think there were cowboys in space," the child said. "Are there?"
"What, actual cowboys?" he said. He gave the question due consideration. "That does happen, I suppose... you know, some people call me the space cowboy."
"Oh, do you like the old folk songs, then?" a woman by his elbow says. She began to sing, softly. "'Some people call me the space cowboy, some people call me the gangster of love...' My dad was a folk singer, you know. Used to sing Empire State of Mind to me every night. I'd sing the chorus."
"Was he? Well, nobody's ever called me the gangster of love," the man said. "Nor Maurice, neither. They call me the... er, Smith."
"The Smith? What, d'you shoe horses?" the woman asked, looking up at the hat.
"John Smith," he clarified. "And who are you?"
"Paulanne Mary," she said. "Just call me Paulanne, though. Everybody does... except my dad. He named me."
"Tell me, Paulanne," the man who called himself Smith said. He gestured around at the crowd. "What are we all waiting for?"
"The Conveyor," she said.
"But isn't that the Conveyor there?" he asked, gesturing to the silent craft.
"Yes."
"But it's... there," he said. "I mean, it's here."
"It's everywhere," she said. "Haven't you heard the adverts?" She put on a deep voice. "'Here. There. Everywhere. The Conveyor!'"
"What, do you mean to say that it exists in multiple places in time and space at once?"
"Sounds unbelievable, doesn't it?" Paulanne said. "I mean, I know we look around and space seems like it's this solid, linear thing, but it's actually more like..."
"You know, I'm actually somewhat familiar with the theory," Mr. Smith said.
"The thing is, the theory behind it has been solid for centuries. Millennia. Supposedly we've known that space is curved as far back as the twentieth century, even. But nobody's been able to get it to work until really quite recently... they've always said the maths behind it are quite sound, but somebody would build a model and fire it up and... nothing."
"You sound like you know a bit about the subject."
"Yeah, well, when your dad's a folk singer, theoretical physics can be a way of acting out," Paulanne said. "The idea behind the conveyor is that the way space and time are folded, bits on entirely different planets can actually be touching or even overlapping. They seal off the inside and then do something.. quantum... and the bit that was here is suddenly on, I don't know, Feldspoon. The only reason we have to wait is that there are so many stops for the Conveyor... there's literally no travel time, just waiting for your stop to come up and for people to get on and off it."
"Sounds brilliant," Smith said. "Why do you think it took so long to get right, exactly?"
"Well... every time someone thought they'd had a breakthrough before, when it didn't work again people would say 'maybe it's not meant to be' or 'maybe there are some things we're not meant to know'," Paulanne said. "Which, you know, sounds a bit superstitious to me... like someone was up there stopping it from happening."
"Or out there," Smith said.
"Yeah... mad, right?" Paulanne said. "But then when it happened, when they perfected it... it wasn't anything new. And physics don't just change, so now it really does feel like somebody was stopping it... and then they changed their minds."
"Or else they went away," Smith said.
"The whole thing scares me a bit, really," she said. "Nobody's ever done anything like this before, and we're using it for mass transit?"
"Typical, isn't it? Barely ten years from Kitty Hawk to the first commercial flight."
"It seems like so much could go wrong."
"Like what? It's not like it can crash, or even catch a flat," Smith said. "It's plugged into the power grid, so there's no worry of running out of fuel."
"Yeah, but if the inside of the Conveyor can literally be anywhere, isn't that another way of saying that it's... nowhere in particular? I can't help thinking, what if something went wrong and it got stuck there? And then I think, what kind of people would you meet in a place like that?"
"Oh, people are pretty much the same all over," Smith said. "Though... that's not necessarily a point in their favor, come to think of it. You can find the worst of people in the best places, and vice-versa."
"Reminds me of a song my dad used to sing, all about this train, the midnight train. You know what trains are?"
"Yeah, I've seen one or two," Smith said.
"What, in a museum?"
He thought about it for a moment.
"By now, probably," he said.
"The thing about trains is that they were on a fixed track, they could only go between two points... but the midnight train could go anywhere."
"And that scared you?" he asked. "It sounds... freeing."
"I suppose it's all in the way it's sung, all slow and low and haunting," she said. "In this song there are these people, they're called the streetlight people... they're called people, but really they're shadows, hiding in the night. They're looking for emotions, you see, and I always figured it was because they didn't have any of their own. Travelers could give them a smile to spend the night, but they had to hold onto their feelings, or they'd lose... and be lost forever."
"Tell me, Paulanne... you're so scared, what are you doing here on the platform?"
She seemed slightly embarrassed by the question... or, more accurately... by her answer.
"Well, it's the inaugural run, isn't it?" she said. "First time through the cycle with passengers. History's being made! I can't not be here, not after I followed its development for so long. I know I didn't actually have anything to do with it, but it feels like... it would be like... like... not seeing my little ones off on their first day of school. Even if something, you know, goes horribly wrong... I have to be here to see it."
"Do you have any children, Paulanne?"
"Not yet," she said. "Do you, John?"
"Not anymore."
He closed his eyes and seemed to be lost in an argument with himself for some time
"Listen," he said. "Nothing's going to go wrong. Maybe... some people... really were out there keeping you lot out of the space-folding business for what they thought were very good reasons, when instead they could have been keeping an eye on it to make sure that it all ran smoothly and no universes were being destroyed and no shadow people were slipping out around the edges of it all, and maybe it doesn't matter because they're all gone now, and maybe it's time that... someone... started practicing prevention instead of standing around with a worried look on his face until it all goes pear-shaped and it's time to start running down corridors and offering planets..."
"John Smith, what are you talking about?"
"Nothing," he said. "Talking to myself. Hazard of traveling alone. Far too late to be helped now. But trust me, I'm... I'm trustworthy. Generally, sort of. Sometimes. But trust me that you're going to have a safe trip, Paulanne Mary, and when you have your children, you can tell them that you were there when history was made."
He turned and started to edge his way through the crowd again.
"Aren't you coming along?" she called after.
"No, I'll have a better view from the other side," he shouted without looking back.
"The other side of what?" she asked, but he gave no answer.
A light came on above the Conveyor, and a bell chimed.
"Journey"
The Conveyor sat on the platform, sleek and silent and unmoving. It had no wings, or wheels, or thrusters, but there was something distinctly vehicular about it. It was a long, trapezoidal craft with no windows or viewports of any kind, though its designers had been mindful of the human preference for such and left indents in the hull in the spaces where such would have gone.
"Excuse me," the man in the Stetson hat said as he slipped his way to the front of the crowd waiting just outside the roped-off area around the Conveyor. "Pardon me. Just coming through. Excuse me."
He reached into an interior pocket of the long coat he wore over his tweed jacket and fiddled with something. There was a green light just visible in the darkness.
"Are you a cowboy?" a small voice said behind him
"Excuse me?" he said, looking around... and then down into the face of the child. His face broke out in a wide grin. "Ah, hello!"
"Only, I didn't think there were cowboys in space," the child said. "Are there?"
"What, actual cowboys?" he said. He gave the question due consideration. "That does happen, I suppose... you know, some people call me the space cowboy."
"Oh, do you like the old folk songs, then?" a woman by his elbow says. She began to sing, softly. "'Some people call me the space cowboy, some people call me the gangster of love...' My dad was a folk singer, you know. Used to sing Empire State of Mind to me every night. I'd sing the chorus."
"Was he? Well, nobody's ever called me the gangster of love," the man said. "Nor Maurice, neither. They call me the... er, Smith."
"The Smith? What, d'you shoe horses?" the woman asked, looking up at the hat.
"John Smith," he clarified. "And who are you?"
"Paulanne Mary," she said. "Just call me Paulanne, though. Everybody does... except my dad. He named me."
"Tell me, Paulanne," the man who called himself Smith said. He gestured around at the crowd. "What are we all waiting for?"
"The Conveyor," she said.
"But isn't that the Conveyor there?" he asked, gesturing to the silent craft.
"Yes."
"But it's... there," he said. "I mean, it's here."
"It's everywhere," she said. "Haven't you heard the adverts?" She put on a deep voice. "'Here. There. Everywhere. The Conveyor!'"
"What, do you mean to say that it exists in multiple places in time and space at once?"
"Sounds unbelievable, doesn't it?" Paulanne said. "I mean, I know we look around and space seems like it's this solid, linear thing, but it's actually more like..."
"You know, I'm actually somewhat familiar with the theory," Mr. Smith said.
"The thing is, the theory behind it has been solid for centuries. Millennia. Supposedly we've known that space is curved as far back as the twentieth century, even. But nobody's been able to get it to work until really quite recently... they've always said the maths behind it are quite sound, but somebody would build a model and fire it up and... nothing."
"You sound like you know a bit about the subject."
"Yeah, well, when your dad's a folk singer, theoretical physics can be a way of acting out," Paulanne said. "The idea behind the conveyor is that the way space and time are folded, bits on entirely different planets can actually be touching or even overlapping. They seal off the inside and then do something.. quantum... and the bit that was here is suddenly on, I don't know, Feldspoon. The only reason we have to wait is that there are so many stops for the Conveyor... there's literally no travel time, just waiting for your stop to come up and for people to get on and off it."
"Sounds brilliant," Smith said. "Why do you think it took so long to get right, exactly?"
"Well... every time someone thought they'd had a breakthrough before, when it didn't work again people would say 'maybe it's not meant to be' or 'maybe there are some things we're not meant to know'," Paulanne said. "Which, you know, sounds a bit superstitious to me... like someone was up there stopping it from happening."
"Or out there," Smith said.
"Yeah... mad, right?" Paulanne said. "But then when it happened, when they perfected it... it wasn't anything new. And physics don't just change, so now it really does feel like somebody was stopping it... and then they changed their minds."
"Or else they went away," Smith said.
"The whole thing scares me a bit, really," she said. "Nobody's ever done anything like this before, and we're using it for mass transit?"
"Typical, isn't it? Barely ten years from Kitty Hawk to the first commercial flight."
"It seems like so much could go wrong."
"Like what? It's not like it can crash, or even catch a flat," Smith said. "It's plugged into the power grid, so there's no worry of running out of fuel."
"Yeah, but if the inside of the Conveyor can literally be anywhere, isn't that another way of saying that it's... nowhere in particular? I can't help thinking, what if something went wrong and it got stuck there? And then I think, what kind of people would you meet in a place like that?"
"Oh, people are pretty much the same all over," Smith said. "Though... that's not necessarily a point in their favor, come to think of it. You can find the worst of people in the best places, and vice-versa."
"Reminds me of a song my dad used to sing, all about this train, the midnight train. You know what trains are?"
"Yeah, I've seen one or two," Smith said.
"What, in a museum?"
He thought about it for a moment.
"By now, probably," he said.
"The thing about trains is that they were on a fixed track, they could only go between two points... but the midnight train could go anywhere."
"And that scared you?" he asked. "It sounds... freeing."
"I suppose it's all in the way it's sung, all slow and low and haunting," she said. "In this song there are these people, they're called the streetlight people... they're called people, but really they're shadows, hiding in the night. They're looking for emotions, you see, and I always figured it was because they didn't have any of their own. Travelers could give them a smile to spend the night, but they had to hold onto their feelings, or they'd lose... and be lost forever."
"Tell me, Paulanne... you're so scared, what are you doing here on the platform?"
She seemed slightly embarrassed by the question... or, more accurately... by her answer.
"Well, it's the inaugural run, isn't it?" she said. "First time through the cycle with passengers. History's being made! I can't not be here, not after I followed its development for so long. I know I didn't actually have anything to do with it, but it feels like... it would be like... like... not seeing my little ones off on their first day of school. Even if something, you know, goes horribly wrong... I have to be here to see it."
"Do you have any children, Paulanne?"
"Not yet," she said. "Do you, John?"
"Not anymore."
He closed his eyes and seemed to be lost in an argument with himself for some time
"Listen," he said. "Nothing's going to go wrong. Maybe... some people... really were out there keeping you lot out of the space-folding business for what they thought were very good reasons, when instead they could have been keeping an eye on it to make sure that it all ran smoothly and no universes were being destroyed and no shadow people were slipping out around the edges of it all, and maybe it doesn't matter because they're all gone now, and maybe it's time that... someone... started practicing prevention instead of standing around with a worried look on his face until it all goes pear-shaped and it's time to start running down corridors and offering planets..."
"John Smith, what are you talking about?"
"Nothing," he said. "Talking to myself. Hazard of traveling alone. Far too late to be helped now. But trust me, I'm... I'm trustworthy. Generally, sort of. Sometimes. But trust me that you're going to have a safe trip, Paulanne Mary, and when you have your children, you can tell them that you were there when history was made."
He turned and started to edge his way through the crowd again.
"Aren't you coming along?" she called after.
"No, I'll have a better view from the other side," he shouted without looking back.
"The other side of what?" she asked, but he gave no answer.
A light came on above the Conveyor, and a bell chimed.
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on 2012-04-12 11:08 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2012-04-13 03:34 am (UTC)