"That's a screwdriver."
The lanky man with the greasy off-blonde hair opposite me waggles the silver rod with the glowing blue tip at me with a little more vigour.
Ah, the Doctor. Of course. Now, which incarnation is it? The Sonic design suggests the Tenth.
"No it's not."
I bring my hands together at my chest, bowing my head and sighing quietly.
And a remarkably placid response to the Oncoming Storm.
"Look… Mister..?"
"Doctor."
...It's
strange. But who am I to judge?
"Mister Doctor, you're intruding in my office and I happen to know that you don't have either an appointment, press credentials or… Really, any other reason to be here. I'd prefer to humour you rather than calling security, but a dialogue requires two people?"
He narrows his eyes slightly, a decidedly mistrustful expression on his face. But he lowers his screwdriver. I mean, he's still using its sonic imaging setting to probe his environment, but at least he's not pretending it's an offensive weapon.
Not that it would be much use against the Renegade. Sonics don't do organic materials regardless. And I bet the Psychic Paper does nothing for him either.
He takes a moment to look around my office. My public office, I should say. This era's technology is easily advanced enough to allow me to work from wherever I happen to be, but a large and richly decorated room still helps underline my authority.
"So what's this about… Then?"
And there's nothing more intimidating than a nice big office, after all. Slap some impressive power decorations and the average office worker will be quaking in their boots.
"If you just want a prospectus, you could have picked one up from reception."
He nods, shoulders slumped as he schleps in the direction of one of the exhibits.
Almost certainly the Tenth, I bet. No mention of trainers or trenchcoat, but we can all guess it's him.
"Where did you get that?"
I make a point of smiling as he nods at the Cyrus Industries cyberman helmet.
I mean, they get left laying around after just about any time the Cybermen show up...
"Oh, there's quite a collectors' market in things like that. Only a
handful didn't get sucked back into the void after the fight at Canary Wharf in the early twenty-first century, and…" I shrug. "Most people can't tell the difference between the
parallel universe ones and the
Mondas version."
"You've been
studying it, have you?"
Well
of course he is. Why wouldn't you look into such advanced technology?
"Oh, well…" I make a careless gesture with my right arm. "Briefly, but while it was advanced for its time, the cyber-interface technology isn't all that impressive now. And goodness knows there's no modern market for the sort of emotional suppression technology they used to keep the poor bastards sane in those things. You know, they had no sensation in their skin at all?"
I shake my head.
"Compassion is Irrelevant." Nice touch that they've been left behind by human advances...
"I don't think they'd have lasted. Logic only goes so far, and the human brain is.. designed for a homeostatic system working just so. You can't just shut down chunks of the endocrine system and still expect it to work."
"You'd be surprised how many people don't realise that."
The Doctor's probably feeling conflicted right now. This guy is acting like a corporate overlord, but he's so damn
sensible!
Oh marvellous, he's a mumbler.
He keeps looking around the other exhibits. "Not doing any work on them yourself?"
That suggests he's had encounters with
other Doctors. Which is an amusing idea to think about.
"Like I said, they're out of date."
"No, I mean, the Mondas ones."
Because the corporate overlord
surely has to be a bad guy, right?
"Oh yes." I nod. "Their cybernetic interface technology is far more advanced than everything currently on the market." He freezes. "With cloned organic limbs being so cheap these days it's not really worth it for pure cybergrafts, though…" I shrug. "Some people are into that. You're supposed to call them 'mechanoids' these days. I don't see what's wrong with 'cyborg', personally, but they're the clients."
"That technology is extremely dangerous."
Ah, yes. The fashion trend of being cool robot people.
So Cyberpunk.
"And that's why we work to understand it before we sell it to anyone. We're not amateurs, here. Oh, and of course, there are cybernetic interfaces for commercial use. Proprioception aids for controlling machines…" I shake my head. "Bit of a mind-bender, but some people can think themselves into a mental state where they can accept feedback from a machine as if it was their own body."
He raises his eyebrows, fidgeting, wiggling his body back and forth.
So, no danger of being
overridden by some Cyberman invasion attempt, eh?
"You every try that yourself?"
"Oh, no. I'm all organic." I raise my right hand. "Not that that's a statement on the quality of our products. If you want to see anything in action we have lab tours… You know, in the lab, not my office."
It's rare that the Doctor encounters any physically augmented folks like this, isn't it? Limitations of the TV budget, after all...
"Yeeeeah, I think I might take you up on thaat."
"Okay." I nod. "Um. Was there anything else? I… I do have a job here."
Honestly, you'd think he'd recognise the Doctor, whatever the regeneration. If only by reputation. That or he's
hiding his giddy glee.
Then he stops moving, stops fidgeting, stares at me directly and if I wasn't, you know, me, I might find it a little intimidating.
"Are you doing anything else with their technology?"
Yeah, that's pretty effective against most folks. But against a God of Conquest...
"We study everything we get, but…" I shrug. "It's not like we have an unlimited budget. Samples of Mondas technology are rather expensive."
"I want to see everything you've got. Everything you've done. And I want to know who's buying it."
And
this is the point at which most bad guys in a '
Doctor Who' serial realise they are in deep doo-doo.
"Do you wander into people's offices and demand commercially sensitive information a lot?"
He frowns, then his face relaxes as he contemplates the question.
Heh. Now, see, most of the time, that approach
works.
"Y'know, I do, actually. It's a bit of a habit."
"You might want to watch that. I'm pretty easy going, but it is a crime in a lot of places. You're going to get in trouble."
Heh. The joy of a corporate-controlled future era. Not that Earth hasn't had a
lot of those over the years in
this universe.
"Oh?" He reaching into his jacket pocket with is left hand and pulls out a card holder. He then flips it open, revealing-.
I blink as I block a weak mental probe projecting from a small blank piece of paper.
Ah, as expected, the Psychic Paper bounces off his mental fortress.
"Am I?"
"If your identification is a blank piece of paper, yes. Telepathic intrusion is a crime in a lot of places as well."
On the other hand, that tells the Doctor that this guy has some serious mental defences. It's not often that
doesn't work.
"Well." He slips the card back into his pocket. "You'd know."
I tap my amulet. "I prefer to hide my appearance. I naturally look rather… Intimidating."
Huh. Guess that explains why the Doctor didn't comment on his looks before.
"Oh yeah?"
I point to my office door. "See how big that is?" He glances back. "That's for me. Humans aren't speciest, but a big scary bloke is a big scary bloke. It makes things a bit awkward, so it was this or a clown mask, and… Last time I wore that, people screamed."
It's the height. A normal-sized clown is scary enough for some. One towering over you, leering down at you with his masked features? Those who understand are already
cringing, aren't you?
"A'right. How about that tour, then?"
"Sure. Um, but I'm management, so why don't you go back down to the lobby and I'll have an actual scientist come up to take you around?"
That'll throw the Doctor off his game, certainly. It's not often he gets such a
reasonable response to barging in.
He nods, still clearly suspicious, then with a last look at the cyberman parts turns around and heads out of the office.
I wait until the door is firmly closed before-
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee."
Heh. Of course he's suppressing his
squeeing. Commendable that he managed to hold it in until the Doctor left.
-I remain completely calm and professional, despite the Doctor investigating me. I mean, this is how you know you've arrived, right? I mean, whaw. And I think I'm good. The cyberman parts are suspicious as heck, but there's nothing actually illegal going on here in that regard. And the low down deal I've got going on with the Adipose is the sort of 'embarrassing if it got out but not actually illegal' thing that acts as a fake goal if he doesn't give up.
The
Adipose, huh? Well, they technically weren't a
hostile species. The person in charge of their plan
panicked, if I remember right, since the whole deal was illegal under galactic law.
Because if he finds out that I'm working on samples of Susan Foreman's hair then I'm proper fucked.
...Well, the timelines do match up, kind of? The Doctor
did leave his
Granddaughter on Earth in the twenty-second century after thwarting a Dalek invasion. The question is, is she still around or did she live out something closer to a human lifespan?
