Not having been there, I can't fully comment on the reasons behind Tristan's erroneous materialization. While he and Skippy DID, in fact, materialize in San Fransisco, Their temporal coordinates were off by just over 6 years, causing them to materialize just outside of Chinatown on Christmas eve, 1999. Additionally, there was another problem.
Of the four Time Travel Capsules used by Killing Time (I count four as, regardless of how many Lestor possessed, he never kept more than one in use.), Tristan's was the only one which had a chameleon circuit that operated as advertised.. Wherever he materialized his TARDIS, it always seemed to take on a form that was a proper disguise.
So it was very perplexing to him as to why it materialized in very late twentieth century San Fransisco as a police box from London circa 1965.
Still, no one seemed to notice it, so he paid it little mind.
There is an interesting thing about the two intersecting factors in the trans-temporal coordinates of San Fransisco in late 1999.
The city of San Fransisco, California is well known for being open and accepting of the unusual. In fact, there is a story that four Sontarans were stranded in the city for nearly a decade and only half a dozen people even noticed.
Additionally, in the year 1999, especially towards the end of it, some many people were focused on the end of their millennium (and whether it actually WAS the end of their millennium. For the record, yes, it was, as most humans forgot their calender was created with a bizarrely labeled "Year Julio" prior to year 1.) that few of them pain any attention to things out of the ordinary, as they were paying too much attention trying to find things that were out of the ordinary.
And so it came to pass that a Gallifreyan Time Lord and a fez-wearing, English-speaking, time-travelling kangaroo went COMPLETELY unremarked upon when wandering through the streets of San Fransisco.
Given the era and location they in which they'd arrived, Tristan and Skippy thought it would be best to hold their strategic planning session (as they insisted it be called, regardless of the fact that the next time we saw Tristan on Bruce, he was wearing a red and white checkered toga and a traffic cone on his head) in a local pub. Said session lasted from 24, December until 28, December without stop. During that time, allow me to state that a copious amount of fermented fruit and grain beverages were consumed by the pair.
After their "planning session", the pair returned to the location of Tristan's TTC. It has been said that when a person (or Time Lord or kangaroo, I suppose) had consumed too much alcohol, they might see double. This statement proved to be true when they stumbled back to Tristan's TTC and suddenly found themselves in the presence of two, identical London police boxes across the street from each other. Given their mental state, they weren't exactly certain which was their TARDIS. They wound up picking one through chance, assuming the other must be a proper police box.
When Tristan tried the door, it stuck a bit, though it did finally open and the pair entered.
I am aware I have not, as yet, describe the interior design of Tristan's TARDIS. It is, however, important to know some basics at this point, as the vast, stone-worked TARDIS console room with the cathedral-like pillars and flying buttresses were in direct contrast to his console room, which, in fact, was nearly identical, frankly, except his buttresses had long been grounded.
So, while this was clearly not his TTC, Tristan decided to take it for a bit of a joy ride.
Setting the randomizer, the engines began their characteristic whine as Skippy decided to have a bit of an exploration of the unfamiliar TARDIS while Tristan watched the scanners as the TARDIS materialized in a garden in Leadworth, England in early 2010. Surprisingly, upon materializing, there was a loud and insistent knock on the door.
Upon opening doors, Tristan was greeted by a tallish, ginger woman in a very odd variation of a police woman's uniform, complete with a skirt that could best be described as a belt.
"Five minutes? You're late aga...Wait...You're not the Doctor!"
"Ummm... yes! Yes I am! Had a minor problem with the engines. Small explosion. Had to regenerate. Sorry to confuse you," Tristan said, thinking quickly.
Clearly, the ginger woman with the Scots accent didn't know what regeneration was, and her figure and attire convinced Tristan he should explain it to her. After, she expressed relief over the fact that "the Doctor", in his new regeneration, had realized that bow ties were not, in fact, "cool".
She then dive-tackled Tristan, lips first.
A lesser Time Lord would be tempted to take advantage of this situation.
Tristan was not a lesser Time Lord.
He wasn't tempted.
He didn't hesitate and took FULL advantage of the situation.
In point of fact, the two of them didn't get off the floor, let alone dressed, for nigh on two days.
Finally, sweaty, exhausted and sticky, the ginger woman and Tristan finally stood up and got dressed.
"Alright, that was fun, Doctor. Give me a mo to get my luggage."
"Uhhh..." was Tristan's only response.
"Well, it's been nearly two years, but this time I'm ready to go with you."
Panic began creeping in on the margins of Tristan's mind. She was fun, sure, and rather sexy, but he had no desire to travel with this unknown woman who thought he was someone else.It was at this point that fate intervened.
Skippy finally returned to the console, having finished his exploration.
"Oi! So this place is an older...Why do I smell sex? Who's this, then?"
It seems though the sight of a TARDIS' dimensionally transcendental interior did not phase her at all, and the implications of near immortal Time Lords and their ability to regenerate into completely different forms seemed perfectly normal, the appearned of a fez-wearing, english-speaking, time-travelling kangaroo struck this ginger woman a bit harder than it did anyone in San Fransisco a decade earlier.
She fainted, hitting her head on the corner of the console.
"Yes, she's breathing, but I don't know as she's going to remember much of the last few days," Skippy said, "But..."
"Who cares? Help me get her out of here."
The two of them tossed the woman out the door and back in the garden before performing an emergency dematerialization.
"Let's go back and get my TARDIS. This one's nothing but trouble," Tristan's panic was finally starting to subside."
"Right. No worries...
"You DO realize you made her pregnant, right?"
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Where Paying Men Have Gone Before
After arriving back at the post box disguising my TARDIS, sapphire and I entered and I set the temporal coordinates to the nearest large source of artron energy, which, of course, was Ms. Kronus' regeneration into the more known form of Sabrae from a few minutes before.
We drew in the energy and then we were off after our year long stay in Chicago (which, for the record, was MUCH longer than the 35 years we spent on Vloom Major Gamma).
We finally materialized on Vulcan at the correct trans-temporal point and the TARDIS disguised itself as a ski chalet, laughing the entire time.
Upon exiting on to the surface of the arid planet, we were greeted by a tall, dark-haired male Vulcan in a grey robe who immediately introduced himself as the bloke we were looking for.
"I am Sarek. Your coming was foretold to me by the strangest Earth mammal I've ever met. He seemed intelligent, though he was not a human and wore only the most curious head wear I've ever seen. He said his name was 'Skippy'."
This, of course, not only made our job easier, but has also saved me the trouble of trying to remember a complicated search for a single individual on an entire planet.
And so, we re-entered the TARDIS and set the coordinates back to Earth in California in 1962, just like I remembered Skippy telling me to do . This of course, was COMPLETELY off, but I didn't know that then.
During the journey, I noticed something, but didn't wish to be rude about it: Sarek had begun acting...impulsively. He was sweating quite a bit and had begun grunting. On roughly 236 occasions, he attempted to sneak up behind sapphire and lick her. I believe this made her a touch uncomfortable.
My Time Travel Capsule, apparently bored for the moment with her jokes, materialized on the corner of a street in Los Angeles in the form of a telephone booth of the proper era and locale. I believe sapphire nearly fainted at this occurrence. As soon as we opened the doors, however, Sarek sprinted out shouting "Pon-Farr...BOOBIES!!!"
I feel the need, at this time, to point out something about Vulcans, in relation to humans, or, indeed, Time Lords: The buggers are FAST!
Before we'd even had the chance to react, he was gone. Far beyond even my ability to see him.
So, I went back in the TARDIS and pieced together a few odd and ends to build a scanner to try and track our errant (and, apparently, horny) Vulcan down.
The scanning device was roughly the size of a mobile telephone from the mid 1980s on Earth, which is to say, not very inconspicuous. It was keyed into the specific bio-data for a Vulcan male and actually did a fairly good job, as it was about to triangulate his position down to about 50 square meters.
The problem was it's... unforeseen side functions.
Since it was keyed to specific racial bio-signals, it could differentiate not only a Vulcan, but a Time Lord and any race of human, as well. This, I thought, might prove useful in the future. And it likely would have, except that any time a new life form came within 20 paces of the device, it would shout out one of 100 known racial epithets for that individual's race/species. THIS caused a problem.
For nearly sixty minutes, sapphire and I run, following the signal to Sarek while trying to silence the scanner from shouting various N-words, C-words, S-words and Q-words so as to avoid confrontation with the natives of Earth.
Finally, out of breath and hearing the scanner shout "HONKY-KRAUT!", we turned and saw the other person we were looking for.... Justin Beiber.
I grabbed him and said "Have you seen a tall bloke with pointy ears around here?"
"Uhhh,... Yes.... He went into that motel," The future dictator indicated one across the street.
"Okay. I need you to come with me."
Grabbing him by the shirt collar, I dragged him across the street and into the motel, up and down the halls until I heard the disturbing sound of Sarek giggling. I kicked the door in and pulled my unwilling follower into the room with me, sapphire a few steps behind us.
There, in the room, we saw Sarek, completely naked, with a blonde woman who was clearly a prostitute. They were sitting together in a bath tub filled with what I am fairly certain was Pepto-Bismol, wearing paper sailor hats and clipping each other's toenails.
After a great deal of discussion, we managed to convince Sarek to stop what he was doing for the moment and take a few minutes to talk logic and the future with the future ruler of the galaxy, in the hopes of dissuading him from taking over. In exchange, we would keep his new found friend company in the hallway until he was done, then let her back in and take them both home when they were finished.
An hour or so later, discussions had been had, SOMETHING was done in that tub and all of us were aboard the TARDIS. Sarek's hooker friend, who initially called herself "Bambi", turned out to be a girl named Amanda and she decided to go back to Vulcan with Sarek. After dropping them off, we took Beiber back to Los Angeles in 1962.
It was only when I said "Good bye, Justin" that we found out we were mistaken.
"Ummm... my name's Eugene," he said," I'm not a musician, I'm a television writer."
We drew in the energy and then we were off after our year long stay in Chicago (which, for the record, was MUCH longer than the 35 years we spent on Vloom Major Gamma).
We finally materialized on Vulcan at the correct trans-temporal point and the TARDIS disguised itself as a ski chalet, laughing the entire time.
Upon exiting on to the surface of the arid planet, we were greeted by a tall, dark-haired male Vulcan in a grey robe who immediately introduced himself as the bloke we were looking for.
"I am Sarek. Your coming was foretold to me by the strangest Earth mammal I've ever met. He seemed intelligent, though he was not a human and wore only the most curious head wear I've ever seen. He said his name was 'Skippy'."
This, of course, not only made our job easier, but has also saved me the trouble of trying to remember a complicated search for a single individual on an entire planet.
And so, we re-entered the TARDIS and set the coordinates back to Earth in California in 1962, just like I remembered Skippy telling me to do . This of course, was COMPLETELY off, but I didn't know that then.
During the journey, I noticed something, but didn't wish to be rude about it: Sarek had begun acting...impulsively. He was sweating quite a bit and had begun grunting. On roughly 236 occasions, he attempted to sneak up behind sapphire and lick her. I believe this made her a touch uncomfortable.
My Time Travel Capsule, apparently bored for the moment with her jokes, materialized on the corner of a street in Los Angeles in the form of a telephone booth of the proper era and locale. I believe sapphire nearly fainted at this occurrence. As soon as we opened the doors, however, Sarek sprinted out shouting "Pon-Farr...BOOBIES!!!"
I feel the need, at this time, to point out something about Vulcans, in relation to humans, or, indeed, Time Lords: The buggers are FAST!
Before we'd even had the chance to react, he was gone. Far beyond even my ability to see him.
So, I went back in the TARDIS and pieced together a few odd and ends to build a scanner to try and track our errant (and, apparently, horny) Vulcan down.
The scanning device was roughly the size of a mobile telephone from the mid 1980s on Earth, which is to say, not very inconspicuous. It was keyed into the specific bio-data for a Vulcan male and actually did a fairly good job, as it was about to triangulate his position down to about 50 square meters.
The problem was it's... unforeseen side functions.
Since it was keyed to specific racial bio-signals, it could differentiate not only a Vulcan, but a Time Lord and any race of human, as well. This, I thought, might prove useful in the future. And it likely would have, except that any time a new life form came within 20 paces of the device, it would shout out one of 100 known racial epithets for that individual's race/species. THIS caused a problem.
For nearly sixty minutes, sapphire and I run, following the signal to Sarek while trying to silence the scanner from shouting various N-words, C-words, S-words and Q-words so as to avoid confrontation with the natives of Earth.
Finally, out of breath and hearing the scanner shout "HONKY-KRAUT!", we turned and saw the other person we were looking for.... Justin Beiber.
I grabbed him and said "Have you seen a tall bloke with pointy ears around here?"
"Uhhh,... Yes.... He went into that motel," The future dictator indicated one across the street.
"Okay. I need you to come with me."
Grabbing him by the shirt collar, I dragged him across the street and into the motel, up and down the halls until I heard the disturbing sound of Sarek giggling. I kicked the door in and pulled my unwilling follower into the room with me, sapphire a few steps behind us.
There, in the room, we saw Sarek, completely naked, with a blonde woman who was clearly a prostitute. They were sitting together in a bath tub filled with what I am fairly certain was Pepto-Bismol, wearing paper sailor hats and clipping each other's toenails.
After a great deal of discussion, we managed to convince Sarek to stop what he was doing for the moment and take a few minutes to talk logic and the future with the future ruler of the galaxy, in the hopes of dissuading him from taking over. In exchange, we would keep his new found friend company in the hallway until he was done, then let her back in and take them both home when they were finished.
An hour or so later, discussions had been had, SOMETHING was done in that tub and all of us were aboard the TARDIS. Sarek's hooker friend, who initially called herself "Bambi", turned out to be a girl named Amanda and she decided to go back to Vulcan with Sarek. After dropping them off, we took Beiber back to Los Angeles in 1962.
It was only when I said "Good bye, Justin" that we found out we were mistaken.
"Ummm... my name's Eugene," he said," I'm not a musician, I'm a television writer."
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Disclaimer Not Included
Upon entering the building, sapphire and I were accosted by a security guard demanding to see our access badges.
"We're new," I said, "It's our first day."
"Ah," he replied, "You must be the new advertising team."
"Yes," I said, quickly trying to think of the most inconspicuous name to use as an alias, seeing as "The Madman" would likely raise a few suspicions...
"I'm Jurgen Nordflugadsendenflegson-Ramirez. And this is my assistant, Miss Sapphire....uhhh....Pussygalore."
"And how do you spell that?"
"Just as it sounds. Can you point me to the advertising office?"
The security guard took us to a lift where we were taken to the tenth floor, walked by an aisle of desks, at one of which, sat the ginger Time Lady, now seemingly more awake, drinking a can of something with the same logo from the side of the building. The tag on her desk read "Sally Kronus" and the quick perusal of her attire showed on her left wrist she wore a Gallifreyan Time Ring. We walked past her and she took no notice of us, obviously engrossed in the opening of what appeared to be the fourth can of this beverage today.
The advertising office was as one would expect an advertising office to be: filled with non-creative people in suits trying to be creative and fooling the masses into thinking they NEED the product being advertised. Generally, they fail miserably,as one thing most advertising executives require is the ability to view the world, indeed, the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash in a way no one else could. Kind of like me.
So, for the next several months, sapphire and I made a TREMENDOUS amount of money working for this beverage firm, coming up with ideas such as having people compete amaturely made air crafts in something called a Flugtag, etc.
All this time, we waited for the TARDIS to self repair and keeping an eye on the so-called "Ms Kronus".
She had a very mundane routine. Coming in, daily, at the same time (7:30 AM), proceeding to drink can after can of this red-bull-labelled beverage, starting in a nigh-comatose state and, by noon, seemingly fully conscious. By the end of her day, it appeared she was vibrating at a level which may allow her to traverse dimensions on her own.
She continued this pattern for the full year sapphire and I were in Chicago. We never allowed her to see us, as she may have been sent by the High Council, or worse, the Celestial Intervention Agency to try to find us.
This continued until one morning, it was decided that the advertising team should go to the production floor to see how this drink was actually manufactured.
The team walked past Ms Kronus' desk at just the right time in her regimen for her to be looking up long enough to get a glimpse of me. I saw the glimmer of recognition in her face, but not QUITE grasping who I was or what I was doing there. I felt it best to not talk to her about it until after the work day was done. I didn't realize she'd gotten up to try to follow.
In the production area, sapphire and I were being shown the large vats of this beverage on the main floor level. From above, we heard the shout.
"It's YOU! I've FINALLY found you!"
Looking up, I saw Ms. Kronus standing on the rail of one of the catwalks above the vats, trying to get a good look at me.
Unfortunately, in her excitement, she slipped and flipped into an open vat of this beverage.
The manufacturing was shut down and she was fished out of the vat, but by that time, she was already gone.
Looking at her lying on the floor in front of me, I wasn't exactly certain how to handle this. I knew she was a Time Lady, and if anyone tried to examine her (assuming this was her last regeneration), questions would be asked.
If it WASN'T her last regeneration, I wasn't certain it was wise for me to stick around. The question proved moot as two things happened at once
First, Ms Kronus' regeneration began.
At the exact same time, I hear the sounds of a TARDIS materializing above me.
As the energy exploded from the regenerating Time Lady, the now, paradoxically flying post box was drawing in the excess.
I watched the features of her change.
Her hair and eyes darkened and lengthened. Her size decreased, and she became leaner.
And black, ethereal wings sprouted from her back due to a reaction Gallifreyans seem to have from high exposure to the ingredients to this beverage (which is why it's banned on Gallifrey)
In surprise, I shouted "Great Rassilon! This stuff gives you WINGS! "
As I could tell people were starting to turn toward her, I needed to react quickly, so I activated her Time Ring, allowing her to fade out and return to its point of origin.
At this point, I grabbed sapphire and ran.
"We're new," I said, "It's our first day."
"Ah," he replied, "You must be the new advertising team."
"Yes," I said, quickly trying to think of the most inconspicuous name to use as an alias, seeing as "The Madman" would likely raise a few suspicions...
"I'm Jurgen Nordflugadsendenflegson-Ramirez. And this is my assistant, Miss Sapphire....uhhh....Pussygalore."
"And how do you spell that?"
"Just as it sounds. Can you point me to the advertising office?"
The security guard took us to a lift where we were taken to the tenth floor, walked by an aisle of desks, at one of which, sat the ginger Time Lady, now seemingly more awake, drinking a can of something with the same logo from the side of the building. The tag on her desk read "Sally Kronus" and the quick perusal of her attire showed on her left wrist she wore a Gallifreyan Time Ring. We walked past her and she took no notice of us, obviously engrossed in the opening of what appeared to be the fourth can of this beverage today.
The advertising office was as one would expect an advertising office to be: filled with non-creative people in suits trying to be creative and fooling the masses into thinking they NEED the product being advertised. Generally, they fail miserably,as one thing most advertising executives require is the ability to view the world, indeed, the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash in a way no one else could. Kind of like me.
So, for the next several months, sapphire and I made a TREMENDOUS amount of money working for this beverage firm, coming up with ideas such as having people compete amaturely made air crafts in something called a Flugtag, etc.
All this time, we waited for the TARDIS to self repair and keeping an eye on the so-called "Ms Kronus".
She had a very mundane routine. Coming in, daily, at the same time (7:30 AM), proceeding to drink can after can of this red-bull-labelled beverage, starting in a nigh-comatose state and, by noon, seemingly fully conscious. By the end of her day, it appeared she was vibrating at a level which may allow her to traverse dimensions on her own.
She continued this pattern for the full year sapphire and I were in Chicago. We never allowed her to see us, as she may have been sent by the High Council, or worse, the Celestial Intervention Agency to try to find us.
This continued until one morning, it was decided that the advertising team should go to the production floor to see how this drink was actually manufactured.
The team walked past Ms Kronus' desk at just the right time in her regimen for her to be looking up long enough to get a glimpse of me. I saw the glimmer of recognition in her face, but not QUITE grasping who I was or what I was doing there. I felt it best to not talk to her about it until after the work day was done. I didn't realize she'd gotten up to try to follow.
In the production area, sapphire and I were being shown the large vats of this beverage on the main floor level. From above, we heard the shout.
"It's YOU! I've FINALLY found you!"
Looking up, I saw Ms. Kronus standing on the rail of one of the catwalks above the vats, trying to get a good look at me.
Unfortunately, in her excitement, she slipped and flipped into an open vat of this beverage.
The manufacturing was shut down and she was fished out of the vat, but by that time, she was already gone.
Looking at her lying on the floor in front of me, I wasn't exactly certain how to handle this. I knew she was a Time Lady, and if anyone tried to examine her (assuming this was her last regeneration), questions would be asked.
If it WASN'T her last regeneration, I wasn't certain it was wise for me to stick around. The question proved moot as two things happened at once
First, Ms Kronus' regeneration began.
At the exact same time, I hear the sounds of a TARDIS materializing above me.
As the energy exploded from the regenerating Time Lady, the now, paradoxically flying post box was drawing in the excess.
I watched the features of her change.
Her hair and eyes darkened and lengthened. Her size decreased, and she became leaner.
And black, ethereal wings sprouted from her back due to a reaction Gallifreyans seem to have from high exposure to the ingredients to this beverage (which is why it's banned on Gallifrey)
In surprise, I shouted "Great Rassilon! This stuff gives you WINGS! "
As I could tell people were starting to turn toward her, I needed to react quickly, so I activated her Time Ring, allowing her to fade out and return to its point of origin.
At this point, I grabbed sapphire and ran.
Just a Bit Off Course
As we had been tasked by Skippy, I set the time/space coordinates in my TARDIS for Vulcan in 2223. Not entirely certain the purpose behind this mission (owing to the fact that most despots listen to reason about as often as a country musician listens to Beethoven), never the less, we set the controls and entered the vortex.
Interesting thing about the time vortex: sometimes objects enter it at random, such as the left sock one can never find in the dryer. Navigating the vortex is often a trans-temporal version of dodge-em cars, attempting to maneuver past bits of random debris forever floating about in the vortex. This may seem a bit useless, but collisions in the time vortex are ACTUALLY as bad as the High Council would have you believe (unlike the previously mentioned materializing a TTC within another TTC).
Shortly into our journey, I made a slight miscalculation and collided with a chunk of time-lost Stilton Cheese, which, in turn, ruptured the fluidic links within the TARDIS and vented most of the artron energy, forcing us to make an emergency materialization.
We materialized in the form of a blue post box in the city of Chicago in the earth year 2001.
The console room, in fact, the TARDIS as a whole, was filled with grey-white smoke and sparks of multiple colours. and so, sapphire and I had to flee.
Having appraised the damages, I knew that my Time Travel Capsule could self repair, and, once that was complete, the artron energy could be replenished by finding an appropriate rift in space/time. I knew we had enough energy for one brief trip.
We estimated the repairs would take approximately one Terran year, which, while mildly annoying, became more of a challenge when sapphire and I realized we had no earth currency. We needed to find work.
Wandering the streets of Chicago with no money is not something I would recommend to anyone. We spent a few nights sleeping on the streets, which is generally frowned upon, especially dressed as we were, myself in a black and red waistcoat and ascot and sapphire in a short red dress.On the fourth day, our fortunes improved when I suddenly sensed the presence of another Time Lord in the area.
Now, mad though I may be, I do know that our actions within the Killing Time Alliance would likely attract the attentions of the High Council of Gallifrey, and they would likely be a bit put off by Time Lords mucking about in fixed points and such, so I decided we should act in caution and try to keep an eye on this unknown Gallifreyan from afar. I knew if I sensed them, they would likely have sensed me, so this task would be fairly difficult to achieve.
After several hours, we caught sight of a youngish Time Lady. She was about average size and build with short, ginger hair with tight curls. She would a bright green dress and seemed to take no notice of us, as she appeared to be barely awake and in a hurry. The barely awake part seemed a bit odd, since Time Lords tend not to sleep much.
We followed her for about 8 blocks before she entered an industrial looking building that seemed to hold manufacturing and executive areas. Above the main entrance was the symbol of a red bull. She walked in and we followed.
Interesting thing about the time vortex: sometimes objects enter it at random, such as the left sock one can never find in the dryer. Navigating the vortex is often a trans-temporal version of dodge-em cars, attempting to maneuver past bits of random debris forever floating about in the vortex. This may seem a bit useless, but collisions in the time vortex are ACTUALLY as bad as the High Council would have you believe (unlike the previously mentioned materializing a TTC within another TTC).
Shortly into our journey, I made a slight miscalculation and collided with a chunk of time-lost Stilton Cheese, which, in turn, ruptured the fluidic links within the TARDIS and vented most of the artron energy, forcing us to make an emergency materialization.
We materialized in the form of a blue post box in the city of Chicago in the earth year 2001.
The console room, in fact, the TARDIS as a whole, was filled with grey-white smoke and sparks of multiple colours. and so, sapphire and I had to flee.
Having appraised the damages, I knew that my Time Travel Capsule could self repair, and, once that was complete, the artron energy could be replenished by finding an appropriate rift in space/time. I knew we had enough energy for one brief trip.
We estimated the repairs would take approximately one Terran year, which, while mildly annoying, became more of a challenge when sapphire and I realized we had no earth currency. We needed to find work.
Wandering the streets of Chicago with no money is not something I would recommend to anyone. We spent a few nights sleeping on the streets, which is generally frowned upon, especially dressed as we were, myself in a black and red waistcoat and ascot and sapphire in a short red dress.On the fourth day, our fortunes improved when I suddenly sensed the presence of another Time Lord in the area.
Now, mad though I may be, I do know that our actions within the Killing Time Alliance would likely attract the attentions of the High Council of Gallifrey, and they would likely be a bit put off by Time Lords mucking about in fixed points and such, so I decided we should act in caution and try to keep an eye on this unknown Gallifreyan from afar. I knew if I sensed them, they would likely have sensed me, so this task would be fairly difficult to achieve.
After several hours, we caught sight of a youngish Time Lady. She was about average size and build with short, ginger hair with tight curls. She would a bright green dress and seemed to take no notice of us, as she appeared to be barely awake and in a hurry. The barely awake part seemed a bit odd, since Time Lords tend not to sleep much.
We followed her for about 8 blocks before she entered an industrial looking building that seemed to hold manufacturing and executive areas. Above the main entrance was the symbol of a red bull. She walked in and we followed.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Is That a Police Box In Your Pocket, or Are You Just Happy to See Me?
After dispatching the Dalek bowling league, the five of us returned to the main doors of my TARDIS, treading VERY gingerly about Sabrae, due to her continued lack of coffee. When we stepped out of the giant, frosted mushroom my Time Travel Capsule had decided to imitate, and onto the surface of Bruce, we heard the now unique sound of Lestor's TARDIS.
At this time, I have to step away from the narrative and explain some things to any non-Gallifreyans reading this.
As I mentioned earlier, Lestor had a rather...obsessive fixation with acquiring new TTCs. There doesn't seem to be an end in sight to this particular obsession, either.
I have also mentioned that Gallifreyan TTCs (anything newer than a Type 25, anyway) possess telepathic circuits. This allows the TTC to interact with its Time Lord on an almost instinctual level about some things. On most types, this can include the Chameleon Circuit, though conscious control of that is nigh-impossible. The sub-conscious of the Time Lord can easily influence the form a TARDIS will take. If sufficient psychic energy is used, during the initial interface, the Chameleon Circuit can be set to a permanent state, which can, in extreme cases, effect not just the appearance of the exterior of a TARDIS, but also the sound of it's engines.
It is for this reason, I recommend against commencing the initial interface with your TTC's telepathic circuits while having sex in a stolen, 60s era London police box.
This is advice Lestor chose not to follow.
When his TARDIS materialized, it was in the physical form of said police box, with his name emblazoned across the top and an image of Kandy, stark naked, emblazoned on the sides. The door held a sign which read "Lestor's TITIS...BOOBIES!" on it.
The engines, rather than the characteristic sound TARDIS engines make, instead seemed to moan "Oh! Oh! OH GOD! RIGHT THERE!!!"
We all watched as the doors opened and Lestor exited, zipping his trousers, followed by Chandi, attempting, unsuccessfully, to fasten her brazier before it sling-shot off, ricocheting off the remains of Sabrae's unfortunate caffeine-withdrawl victim.
After a moment, Skippy spoke.
"Right, we've lost a bit of the plot here. We've gotten the Jupiter 2 thrown off course, but there is more to do if we are to stop Beiber's forthcoming tyranny.
"Lestor, you need to get Irwin out of The Madman's cupboard and take him with you to Los Angeles in 1983. You need to prevent the maiden voyage of the sub-orbital transport Spindrift from happening, or at least prevent it from arriving at its destination in London.
"Madman, you and sapphire need to travel to the Earth year 2223, to a planet on the other side of Mutter's Spiral called Vulcan. They favour logic over everything there. You're going to look for someone named Sarek. He's had some dealings with Terrans. Get him and bring him back to Earth in 2046. This is a point in Bieber's timeline where he is old enough to be convinced of his folly, but still not so old that he forgets to wear trousers.
"Tristan, you and I will be going to San Fransisco in 2006, for...planning sessions."
At this time, I have to step away from the narrative and explain some things to any non-Gallifreyans reading this.
As I mentioned earlier, Lestor had a rather...obsessive fixation with acquiring new TTCs. There doesn't seem to be an end in sight to this particular obsession, either.
I have also mentioned that Gallifreyan TTCs (anything newer than a Type 25, anyway) possess telepathic circuits. This allows the TTC to interact with its Time Lord on an almost instinctual level about some things. On most types, this can include the Chameleon Circuit, though conscious control of that is nigh-impossible. The sub-conscious of the Time Lord can easily influence the form a TARDIS will take. If sufficient psychic energy is used, during the initial interface, the Chameleon Circuit can be set to a permanent state, which can, in extreme cases, effect not just the appearance of the exterior of a TARDIS, but also the sound of it's engines.
It is for this reason, I recommend against commencing the initial interface with your TTC's telepathic circuits while having sex in a stolen, 60s era London police box.
This is advice Lestor chose not to follow.
When his TARDIS materialized, it was in the physical form of said police box, with his name emblazoned across the top and an image of Kandy, stark naked, emblazoned on the sides. The door held a sign which read "Lestor's TITIS...BOOBIES!" on it.
The engines, rather than the characteristic sound TARDIS engines make, instead seemed to moan "Oh! Oh! OH GOD! RIGHT THERE!!!"
We all watched as the doors opened and Lestor exited, zipping his trousers, followed by Chandi, attempting, unsuccessfully, to fasten her brazier before it sling-shot off, ricocheting off the remains of Sabrae's unfortunate caffeine-withdrawl victim.
After a moment, Skippy spoke.
"Right, we've lost a bit of the plot here. We've gotten the Jupiter 2 thrown off course, but there is more to do if we are to stop Beiber's forthcoming tyranny.
"Lestor, you need to get Irwin out of The Madman's cupboard and take him with you to Los Angeles in 1983. You need to prevent the maiden voyage of the sub-orbital transport Spindrift from happening, or at least prevent it from arriving at its destination in London.
"Madman, you and sapphire need to travel to the Earth year 2223, to a planet on the other side of Mutter's Spiral called Vulcan. They favour logic over everything there. You're going to look for someone named Sarek. He's had some dealings with Terrans. Get him and bring him back to Earth in 2046. This is a point in Bieber's timeline where he is old enough to be convinced of his folly, but still not so old that he forgets to wear trousers.
"Tristan, you and I will be going to San Fransisco in 2006, for...planning sessions."
Identity Crisis of the Daleks
The metallic and unbelievably non-dulcet tones I mentioned earlier belonged to one of 7 Daleks that were...standing is the wrong word...parked immediately outside the doors of what, to them, appeared to be a nine-foot mushroom covered in icing sugar (and I SWEAR, my TARDIS was laughing again).
As the Daleks began to advance on my Capsule, We could hear the the sound of another TTC engine materializing just beyond and we saw the familiar bird-emblazoned pyramid of Sabrae's TARDIS fade into existence.
As the doors slid open, one of the metal conquerors slid to intercept her.
"Hey!" she shouted at me, completely ignoring the death-machine approaching her, "I am out of coffee. I was about to go get some and you called me here. So you had BETTER have some damned dark-roast in there!"
"Umm...Sabrae, hun," sapphire said, as calmly as possible, "we are dealing with something a bit more important than that right now. You can go out and get your coffee later."
Sabrae's wings dropped and a look crossed her face that could best be described as "Yeah, I'm going to run the OTHER way into that pack of rabid badgers backed against that wall".
"You don't have coffee, do you?"
I shook my head.
It was at this point that Dalek had gotten in front of Sabrae completely.
It was also at this point that Sabrae proceeded to rip the eye-stalk off of it and use it as a bludgeon to pulverize it into a dented, cracked, pile of scrap with some bloody fleshy lump, all the while shouting vulgarities about there being no decent caffeinated beverages in all of the Gallifreyan-influenced systems in the cosmos.
The rest of the Daleks wisely backed away from her.
"We are the Daleks..." one of them began.
"No you're not," I interrupted.
"Yes, we are! All non-Dalek life is inferior and must be exterminated!"
"I agree with that last bit," I said, "But not the first. You're not the Daleks."
This seemed to slow them down for a moment.
"Daleks are the most perfect life-forms in the Who...Universe, right?"
"Yes!"
"Well look at you lot! You're in metal cans. You've got one eye, so no depth perception. You've got no HANDS let alone opposing thumbs! You're CLEARLY the inferior species to me, so that makes US the Daleks, not you."
The Daleks proceeded to look at each other and were silent for several minutes...
"No! We are the Daleks! We will prove it!"
"Right, well come on in, then and I'll show you how to prove you're the Daleks."
The six remaining Daleks, sapphire, Sabrae, Tristan and Skippy all followed me into the depths of my TARDIS until we reached the lowest level...
The bowling alley.
"Right," I said, "If you are REALLY the Daleks, and hence the supreme species, then you should have no trouble beating me at a simple game like this, but, of course, you can't, since it is, as I said, WE, who are the Daleks. You're merely gnomes in a crunchy outer shell."
"We will be supreme! We are the real Daleks!"
I will not bore you with the details of what happened at this point. Suffice to say, what I said about the Daleks not having opposing thumbs is true.
As such, Daleks are TERRIBLE bowlers.
The fact that they lost them game confused them enough to convince them that they were, in fact, NOT the Daleks, and therefor, we were.
This made them blink out of existence altogether.
As the Daleks began to advance on my Capsule, We could hear the the sound of another TTC engine materializing just beyond and we saw the familiar bird-emblazoned pyramid of Sabrae's TARDIS fade into existence.
As the doors slid open, one of the metal conquerors slid to intercept her.
"Hey!" she shouted at me, completely ignoring the death-machine approaching her, "I am out of coffee. I was about to go get some and you called me here. So you had BETTER have some damned dark-roast in there!"
"Umm...Sabrae, hun," sapphire said, as calmly as possible, "we are dealing with something a bit more important than that right now. You can go out and get your coffee later."
Sabrae's wings dropped and a look crossed her face that could best be described as "Yeah, I'm going to run the OTHER way into that pack of rabid badgers backed against that wall".
"You don't have coffee, do you?"
I shook my head.
It was at this point that Dalek had gotten in front of Sabrae completely.
It was also at this point that Sabrae proceeded to rip the eye-stalk off of it and use it as a bludgeon to pulverize it into a dented, cracked, pile of scrap with some bloody fleshy lump, all the while shouting vulgarities about there being no decent caffeinated beverages in all of the Gallifreyan-influenced systems in the cosmos.
The rest of the Daleks wisely backed away from her.
"We are the Daleks..." one of them began.
"No you're not," I interrupted.
"Yes, we are! All non-Dalek life is inferior and must be exterminated!"
"I agree with that last bit," I said, "But not the first. You're not the Daleks."
This seemed to slow them down for a moment.
"Daleks are the most perfect life-forms in the Who...Universe, right?"
"Yes!"
"Well look at you lot! You're in metal cans. You've got one eye, so no depth perception. You've got no HANDS let alone opposing thumbs! You're CLEARLY the inferior species to me, so that makes US the Daleks, not you."
The Daleks proceeded to look at each other and were silent for several minutes...
"No! We are the Daleks! We will prove it!"
"Right, well come on in, then and I'll show you how to prove you're the Daleks."
The six remaining Daleks, sapphire, Sabrae, Tristan and Skippy all followed me into the depths of my TARDIS until we reached the lowest level...
The bowling alley.
"Right," I said, "If you are REALLY the Daleks, and hence the supreme species, then you should have no trouble beating me at a simple game like this, but, of course, you can't, since it is, as I said, WE, who are the Daleks. You're merely gnomes in a crunchy outer shell."
"We will be supreme! We are the real Daleks!"
I will not bore you with the details of what happened at this point. Suffice to say, what I said about the Daleks not having opposing thumbs is true.
As such, Daleks are TERRIBLE bowlers.
The fact that they lost them game confused them enough to convince them that they were, in fact, NOT the Daleks, and therefor, we were.
This made them blink out of existence altogether.
I'm About to Tell You Nothing About Cucumbers
It can be said that the inside of a TARDIS that is traveling within the time vortex has no existence within time, since, it is both in another dimension and traveling through time. There is merit to this statement, although it can also be said that that peanut butter is a form of birth control. The latter statement is both wildly inaccurate and completely irrelevant to my tale.
Because time is, essentially, non-existent within the confines of a Time Travel Capsule, it is therefore completely pointless to explain how long it took to convince Tristan to put some clothes on. Allow me to simply say it took a great deal of non-time.
Finally, he was convinced to go back into his TARDIS and came back out in a loose-fitting suit, trench coat and scarf.
Skippy, in the mean time, had explained that he had met Tristan in a bar and they got to chatting. Tristan explained that he was a Time Lord and Skippy, in turn, told him the purposes of the Killing Time Alliance.
It was at this point that Tristan, now fully dressed, returned and explained the rest of the story.
Tristan, it seems, had a very strong charismatic nature, the likes of which is the exact opposite of that possessed by a Terran pig. I have since heard it said that he can talk his way into anything from the secure areas of Shada to a Talasian Nun's underpants.
Historical note: Talasian Nuns are so strict in their devotion to their vows of chastity that they are, in fact, welded into underpants made of white dwarf material. This makes talking one's way into them rather difficult. It also makes the undergarments weigh roughly 6 metric tonnes, and, as a result, Talasian Nuns generally don't participate in foot races.
After Skippy had explained the purposes of Killing Time to Tristan, the Time Lord took it upon himself to use his talents to help. First order of business, of course, was finding a base of operations that wasn't a TARDIS. While it is said that materializing a TTC withing another TTC is extremely dangerous and should only be done in extreme emergencies, this is false. The reason such materializations are TRULY discouraged is due to an early accident where Omega, on the urge to visit his old friend, materialized his TARDIS within Rassilon's.
This happened while Rassilon was wearing a feather boa, fish-net stockings and bright yellow wellies, dancing a jig and singing about "Putting the lotion in the TARDIS".
Such materializations have been discouraged ever since.
And so, Tristan, with precisely one credit to his name, entered into a game of chance called "poker".
Poker is an excersize in trying to take money from another being by means of trickery, deceit and small, pasteboard cards with number on them. Not at all as noble an endeavor as urinating on a priest.
After 4 hours of this game, Tristan had gone from one credit to being the owner of a planet.
Tristan has, to this day, never told us what the planet had been called prior to his ownership of it, but after winning it, he proceed to use his TTC to ensure all stellar charts that had or will ever be made referred to this planet as "Bruce"
And so, we sent a signal to Lestor and Qandi (which was difficult, as, in the intervening time, Lestor had procured 7 new TARDISes), and Sabrae to meet us on Bruce.
Tristan, however, had failed to actually INSPECT his winnings before offering to let us use it as a base.
Upon materialization, I opened the doors to my TARDIS and was immediately greeted by the word "EXTERMINATE!" intoned in a voice not at all reminiscent of Plascido Domingo.
Because time is, essentially, non-existent within the confines of a Time Travel Capsule, it is therefore completely pointless to explain how long it took to convince Tristan to put some clothes on. Allow me to simply say it took a great deal of non-time.
Finally, he was convinced to go back into his TARDIS and came back out in a loose-fitting suit, trench coat and scarf.
Skippy, in the mean time, had explained that he had met Tristan in a bar and they got to chatting. Tristan explained that he was a Time Lord and Skippy, in turn, told him the purposes of the Killing Time Alliance.
It was at this point that Tristan, now fully dressed, returned and explained the rest of the story.
Tristan, it seems, had a very strong charismatic nature, the likes of which is the exact opposite of that possessed by a Terran pig. I have since heard it said that he can talk his way into anything from the secure areas of Shada to a Talasian Nun's underpants.
Historical note: Talasian Nuns are so strict in their devotion to their vows of chastity that they are, in fact, welded into underpants made of white dwarf material. This makes talking one's way into them rather difficult. It also makes the undergarments weigh roughly 6 metric tonnes, and, as a result, Talasian Nuns generally don't participate in foot races.
After Skippy had explained the purposes of Killing Time to Tristan, the Time Lord took it upon himself to use his talents to help. First order of business, of course, was finding a base of operations that wasn't a TARDIS. While it is said that materializing a TTC withing another TTC is extremely dangerous and should only be done in extreme emergencies, this is false. The reason such materializations are TRULY discouraged is due to an early accident where Omega, on the urge to visit his old friend, materialized his TARDIS within Rassilon's.
This happened while Rassilon was wearing a feather boa, fish-net stockings and bright yellow wellies, dancing a jig and singing about "Putting the lotion in the TARDIS".
Such materializations have been discouraged ever since.
And so, Tristan, with precisely one credit to his name, entered into a game of chance called "poker".
Poker is an excersize in trying to take money from another being by means of trickery, deceit and small, pasteboard cards with number on them. Not at all as noble an endeavor as urinating on a priest.
After 4 hours of this game, Tristan had gone from one credit to being the owner of a planet.
Tristan has, to this day, never told us what the planet had been called prior to his ownership of it, but after winning it, he proceed to use his TTC to ensure all stellar charts that had or will ever be made referred to this planet as "Bruce"
And so, we sent a signal to Lestor and Qandi (which was difficult, as, in the intervening time, Lestor had procured 7 new TARDISes), and Sabrae to meet us on Bruce.
Tristan, however, had failed to actually INSPECT his winnings before offering to let us use it as a base.
Upon materialization, I opened the doors to my TARDIS and was immediately greeted by the word "EXTERMINATE!" intoned in a voice not at all reminiscent of Plascido Domingo.
Me Kangaroo Will Tie You Down, Sport
I will save you all the tedious blathering from the Terran regarding her sudden entry into a Gallifreyan TTC about it being bigger on the inside, an amazing piece of technology and it not being at all what she expected the lower colon of a primate to look like.
Suffice to say, the conversation didn't begin till after a round of showers. And, I should point out at this time that, for all the modification made to my TARDIS prior to it being my TARDIS, you would think that SOMEONE in the grand scheme of growing a conveyance that is half the size of Gallifrey, itself, would think to put in more than two bloody shower stalls. Since sapphire and I shared one of them, that left the other to be shared by Lestor and our stow-away.
A word on our stow-away:
It seems Terrans don't always value a higher education in those who care for their animals while they are kept in tiny, environmentally inappropriate cages.
Our stow-away, after the perfunctory blathering mentioned earlier, finally came to enough of her senses to tell us her name. Understand from this point on, her name is ALWAYS spelled correctly in this missive.
Her name was Candi.
While Kandi was openly hostile when she first arrived, we did manage to convince her to shower before she attempted to destroy my console room. After three hours sharing a shower stall with Lestor, she had calmed right down.
In fact, she volunteered to go with him to "break in" a new TARDIS.
Lestor insisted on leaving Irwin with us, as he thought the flight may be too dangerous.
So I enclosed Irwin in a time bubble and put him in the boot cupboard.
Since we had already begun the unraveling of time on the hopes of preventing the rise of Beiber the Unholy, sapphire and I decided to take a side trip to Vloom Major Gamma.
There are, no doubt, many of you for whom Vloom Major Gamma is an unknown world. There is a very good reason for that.
Vloom Major Gamma is a planet that exists outside of standard space/time.What most astrophysicists call "Event 1", other call "The Big Bang". This is a misnomer. It was more of a massive cosmic conniption which resulted in several trans-temporal anomalies across the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash. Vloom Major Gamma was the most amusing.
Vloom Major Gamma Was trapped in a pocket time stream. Well, technically, two of them.
There is an interesting time-envelope surrounding the planet of Vloom Major Gamma which causes it to exist on its own, but also, when any life form is within the time-envelope, any clothing they are wearing shifts forty seconds into the future. Additionally, the planet has one, 50 meter-wide landmass that spirals a few times around near its equator, its in a cosmostationary position between 3 suns, 473,000 miles of nothing but coastal beaches, and has no precipitation.
In essence, Vloom Major Gamma is a world of nude beaches.
And the lovely thing about arriving there with a time machine is that one can, in fact, leave on one's lunch hour, spend a month at Vloom Major Gamma, and still be back with enough time to grab a coffee.
So, for roughly 35 years, sapphire an I relaxed on the beaches of Vloom Major Gamma, though there were many strained muscles and such to be had.
After 35 years on a nude beach, we decided we'd had a lovely lunch break and decided to head back into the TARDIS to continue our mission. Of course, 35 years on a nude beach will get sand into very uncomfortable places, so we needed another shower.
The first confusing bit was the sudden existence of the third shower in the TARDIS.
The second was the fact that the shower opened to show the interiro of another Time Travel Capsule and out came Skippy, but he was not alone.
The third confusing bit was the naked bloke, dripping with water, who followed Skippy out of the new TTC.
Without any hesitation or hint of embarrassment, the naked, dripping bloke bowed slightly and said, "Hello. I'm here to help out. My name is Tristan."
Suffice to say, the conversation didn't begin till after a round of showers. And, I should point out at this time that, for all the modification made to my TARDIS prior to it being my TARDIS, you would think that SOMEONE in the grand scheme of growing a conveyance that is half the size of Gallifrey, itself, would think to put in more than two bloody shower stalls. Since sapphire and I shared one of them, that left the other to be shared by Lestor and our stow-away.
A word on our stow-away:
It seems Terrans don't always value a higher education in those who care for their animals while they are kept in tiny, environmentally inappropriate cages.
Our stow-away, after the perfunctory blathering mentioned earlier, finally came to enough of her senses to tell us her name. Understand from this point on, her name is ALWAYS spelled correctly in this missive.
Her name was Candi.
While Kandi was openly hostile when she first arrived, we did manage to convince her to shower before she attempted to destroy my console room. After three hours sharing a shower stall with Lestor, she had calmed right down.
In fact, she volunteered to go with him to "break in" a new TARDIS.
Lestor insisted on leaving Irwin with us, as he thought the flight may be too dangerous.
So I enclosed Irwin in a time bubble and put him in the boot cupboard.
Since we had already begun the unraveling of time on the hopes of preventing the rise of Beiber the Unholy, sapphire and I decided to take a side trip to Vloom Major Gamma.
There are, no doubt, many of you for whom Vloom Major Gamma is an unknown world. There is a very good reason for that.
Vloom Major Gamma is a planet that exists outside of standard space/time.What most astrophysicists call "Event 1", other call "The Big Bang". This is a misnomer. It was more of a massive cosmic conniption which resulted in several trans-temporal anomalies across the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash. Vloom Major Gamma was the most amusing.
Vloom Major Gamma Was trapped in a pocket time stream. Well, technically, two of them.
There is an interesting time-envelope surrounding the planet of Vloom Major Gamma which causes it to exist on its own, but also, when any life form is within the time-envelope, any clothing they are wearing shifts forty seconds into the future. Additionally, the planet has one, 50 meter-wide landmass that spirals a few times around near its equator, its in a cosmostationary position between 3 suns, 473,000 miles of nothing but coastal beaches, and has no precipitation.
In essence, Vloom Major Gamma is a world of nude beaches.
And the lovely thing about arriving there with a time machine is that one can, in fact, leave on one's lunch hour, spend a month at Vloom Major Gamma, and still be back with enough time to grab a coffee.
So, for roughly 35 years, sapphire an I relaxed on the beaches of Vloom Major Gamma, though there were many strained muscles and such to be had.
After 35 years on a nude beach, we decided we'd had a lovely lunch break and decided to head back into the TARDIS to continue our mission. Of course, 35 years on a nude beach will get sand into very uncomfortable places, so we needed another shower.
The first confusing bit was the sudden existence of the third shower in the TARDIS.
The second was the fact that the shower opened to show the interiro of another Time Travel Capsule and out came Skippy, but he was not alone.
The third confusing bit was the naked bloke, dripping with water, who followed Skippy out of the new TTC.
Without any hesitation or hint of embarrassment, the naked, dripping bloke bowed slightly and said, "Hello. I'm here to help out. My name is Tristan."
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Blondes, Boobs, and Babboons
After being given the under aged kangaroo, we were ushered out of Sabrae's TARDIS, as she claimed she had things to do, and had no wish to hang about with filthy animals (though I'm not entirely certain, by the tone of her voice, she was referring to the zoo.), and so we were back in my office with her TTC dematerializing and causing enough temporal wind to knock the toy dinosaurs off my desk. I looked down at the upturned fez containing the mini-marsupial in my hands, then to sapphire (who was grinning a bit of an amused grin which said "yes, I know it's wrong, and I know you're my Master, but this is bloody HYSTERICAL". Lestor, on the other hand, was barely paying, lost in the daydreaming of a new TARDIS, mostly to ignore the incessant pulling of his trouser leg by the overly excited Terran youth attempting to get a peak at the young kangaroo and siad youth's rapid-fire repetitions of "Mr. Magic Space Man! Mr. Magic Space Man! Mr. Magic Space Man!". To be fair, I think both Lestor and I may have been considering test-firing the antique staser rifle hanging on my wall using Irwin as the target.
Still, we had a mission to accomplish, and, apparently, a paradox to create.
So, I set the time coordinates for the London Zoo in the Earth year 2015 and started off.
I have mentioned earlier that my TARDIS, sexy though it may be, had a bit of an...episode... upon my first interface with the telepathic circuits. Indeed, my somewhat unique thought patterns imprinted upon the Time Travel Capsule and appeared to have over-written a bit of her own programming, giving her a somewhat capricious nature and odd sense of fun. This sense of fun was often expressed via the use of the chameleon circuit.
It is for this reason, when we materialized, we did so in the form of a full grown baboon.
When a TTC creates, via the chameleon circuit, a form for its exterior, that form will utilize an exit which would appear inconspicuous in the object the TTC is disguised as. For example, an automobile for would have its exit in the door or boot, a grandfather clock through the pendulum door, etc.
In the case of a baboon, there are two possibilities. In the case of my delusional TARDIS, the inconspicuous exit chosen was out the bum.
I will save you the details of our transition through the real world interface in order to...be squeezed...out the exit and into, confusingly enough, the kangaroo enclosure. (As I said, my TARDIS has an odd sense of fun), but the need for a shower after was...urgent.
Once we were able to stand up, we looked about for a place to place the future Skippy which would be as unnoticed as possible. It was, oddly, not that difficult, when one considers that it is fairly simple to hide a kangaroo amoung other kangaroos, even if said first kangaroo refuses to get out of the fez it has grown to believe is its mother.
The difficult part, however, was when we heard the enclosure door opening.
Apparently, the night zookeeper, a young blonde woman in her mid twenties who can best be described as having a bust which can be used as a life-saving device in the event of a water landing, had spotted us materializing and was rather...shocked by the sudden appearance of a baboon in the kangaroo enclosure, followed by being nigh catatonic by the sudden...expulsion of three fully grown adults from said great ape, had finally come to her senses and was trying to accost us for questioning. We, of course, would have none of it.
The next few moments are a blur to me, but I will describe them as best as I can.
Myself, sapphire and Lestor bolted for my TARDIS. I arrived first, followed by sapphire. The two of us crammed ourselves into the baboon's...door, and managed to get to my primary console room (I do recall hearing the laughter of my TARDIS again at this point.
Lestor, who had fallen slightly behind, did manage to get to the TARDIS and was climbing in, while Irwin, whom we had strapped to a chair to prevent his interference, was squirming to escape.
When Lestor was just about into the console, I released the handbrake and hit the dematerialization circuit and we re-entered the time vortex, having made a clean get away...
Or so I thought.
Upon turning around, I noticed, clinging to Lestor's ankle, the blonde zookeeper, who had, it seems, in an effort to keep at least one of us from returning to the baboon's lower intestines (as far as she could tell), grabbed Lestor and been drug along into the TARDIS with him. She was now part of Killing Time, weather she wanted to be or not.
Still, we had a mission to accomplish, and, apparently, a paradox to create.
So, I set the time coordinates for the London Zoo in the Earth year 2015 and started off.
I have mentioned earlier that my TARDIS, sexy though it may be, had a bit of an...episode... upon my first interface with the telepathic circuits. Indeed, my somewhat unique thought patterns imprinted upon the Time Travel Capsule and appeared to have over-written a bit of her own programming, giving her a somewhat capricious nature and odd sense of fun. This sense of fun was often expressed via the use of the chameleon circuit.
It is for this reason, when we materialized, we did so in the form of a full grown baboon.
When a TTC creates, via the chameleon circuit, a form for its exterior, that form will utilize an exit which would appear inconspicuous in the object the TTC is disguised as. For example, an automobile for would have its exit in the door or boot, a grandfather clock through the pendulum door, etc.
In the case of a baboon, there are two possibilities. In the case of my delusional TARDIS, the inconspicuous exit chosen was out the bum.
I will save you the details of our transition through the real world interface in order to...be squeezed...out the exit and into, confusingly enough, the kangaroo enclosure. (As I said, my TARDIS has an odd sense of fun), but the need for a shower after was...urgent.
Once we were able to stand up, we looked about for a place to place the future Skippy which would be as unnoticed as possible. It was, oddly, not that difficult, when one considers that it is fairly simple to hide a kangaroo amoung other kangaroos, even if said first kangaroo refuses to get out of the fez it has grown to believe is its mother.
The difficult part, however, was when we heard the enclosure door opening.
Apparently, the night zookeeper, a young blonde woman in her mid twenties who can best be described as having a bust which can be used as a life-saving device in the event of a water landing, had spotted us materializing and was rather...shocked by the sudden appearance of a baboon in the kangaroo enclosure, followed by being nigh catatonic by the sudden...expulsion of three fully grown adults from said great ape, had finally come to her senses and was trying to accost us for questioning. We, of course, would have none of it.
The next few moments are a blur to me, but I will describe them as best as I can.
Myself, sapphire and Lestor bolted for my TARDIS. I arrived first, followed by sapphire. The two of us crammed ourselves into the baboon's...door, and managed to get to my primary console room (I do recall hearing the laughter of my TARDIS again at this point.
Lestor, who had fallen slightly behind, did manage to get to the TARDIS and was climbing in, while Irwin, whom we had strapped to a chair to prevent his interference, was squirming to escape.
When Lestor was just about into the console, I released the handbrake and hit the dematerialization circuit and we re-entered the time vortex, having made a clean get away...
Or so I thought.
Upon turning around, I noticed, clinging to Lestor's ankle, the blonde zookeeper, who had, it seems, in an effort to keep at least one of us from returning to the baboon's lower intestines (as far as she could tell), grabbed Lestor and been drug along into the TARDIS with him. She was now part of Killing Time, weather she wanted to be or not.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
That's Paradox, Not a Pair of Docks
After an extended discussion (which I should be proud to say did not involve whinging and such, but I can't be, as it did) I finally gave up trying to learn about the bits missing from my memory from Sabrae. She just found the entire situation far too amusing, which was compounded by the fact that, though we were born twins, she was now several million quintillion years younger than me... a fact she has been quick to point out on a number of occasions.
Before I was able to explain anything about the purposes of Killing Time, she turned round and headed back into her TARDIS, indicating we should all follow her.
As we wandered the seemingly endless corridors and rooms of her ship, she made small talk, mostly. Telling us about how she had been given her TTC and how she managed to over-ride the chameleon circuit, allowing her to force the pyramid form on it, even though it kept trying to shift to blend in to its surroundings. Remarkable, actually, as this particular form is the only one I can imagine would definitely not fit into ANY surroundings.
I could sense, by the increased beating of his hearts, that Lestor was wanting to take this TARDIS off her hands.
As the corridors and rooms stretched on, we came upon, what I had PRESUMED was her swimming pool, though, it was about the size of a small lake. It was here that we stopped.
"Okay," Sabrae said, amused. I learned quickly that she displayed her amusement with a light flutter of her as yet unexplained wings.
"We need to stop here a moment."
She let out a sound that can best be described as the song of a small bird held in the air pocket of a gigantic brass bell held in the water. At the sound, half a dozen gargantuan tentacles sprang from the water, but didn't appear to be moving in any kind of overtly threatening manner (though even in the most passive way, unknown gargantuan tentacles are pretty bloody threatening). She reached over and gently stroked one of them as though showing affection to a pet.
"This is Charlie. He tends to get a bit upset if I walk by without showing him love. Last time I did that. he knocked my TARDIS off course and we wound up destroying Ceti Alpha VI. Wasn't pretty."
After some cooing to the...thing...in the pool, we continued on. After another mile or so of walking, we ended up in her den.
On a table, there was an up-turned fez. She took it and brought it to me.
Surprisingly, inside, was a tiny, almost premature-looking kangaroo joey.
It is at this time, I need to explain to the non-Terran readers of this tale that under normal circumstances, Terran marsupials do NOT generally favour wearing fezzes.
In fact, most even remotely sentient life forms on Earth tend to shun fezzes, save for a few lower-intellect ape-decendants.
In short: fezzes are NOT cool.
"What's all this, then?" I asked, trying to determine the opposite of nonplussed without sounding like I was an addition equation.
"This," Sabrae said, her wings fluttering slightly, "is something you need to take to the London Zoo in 2015."
"Why?"
"Because he needs to learn English, you dope."
Before I was able to explain anything about the purposes of Killing Time, she turned round and headed back into her TARDIS, indicating we should all follow her.
As we wandered the seemingly endless corridors and rooms of her ship, she made small talk, mostly. Telling us about how she had been given her TTC and how she managed to over-ride the chameleon circuit, allowing her to force the pyramid form on it, even though it kept trying to shift to blend in to its surroundings. Remarkable, actually, as this particular form is the only one I can imagine would definitely not fit into ANY surroundings.
I could sense, by the increased beating of his hearts, that Lestor was wanting to take this TARDIS off her hands.
As the corridors and rooms stretched on, we came upon, what I had PRESUMED was her swimming pool, though, it was about the size of a small lake. It was here that we stopped.
"Okay," Sabrae said, amused. I learned quickly that she displayed her amusement with a light flutter of her as yet unexplained wings.
"We need to stop here a moment."
She let out a sound that can best be described as the song of a small bird held in the air pocket of a gigantic brass bell held in the water. At the sound, half a dozen gargantuan tentacles sprang from the water, but didn't appear to be moving in any kind of overtly threatening manner (though even in the most passive way, unknown gargantuan tentacles are pretty bloody threatening). She reached over and gently stroked one of them as though showing affection to a pet.
"This is Charlie. He tends to get a bit upset if I walk by without showing him love. Last time I did that. he knocked my TARDIS off course and we wound up destroying Ceti Alpha VI. Wasn't pretty."
After some cooing to the...thing...in the pool, we continued on. After another mile or so of walking, we ended up in her den.
On a table, there was an up-turned fez. She took it and brought it to me.
Surprisingly, inside, was a tiny, almost premature-looking kangaroo joey.
It is at this time, I need to explain to the non-Terran readers of this tale that under normal circumstances, Terran marsupials do NOT generally favour wearing fezzes.
In fact, most even remotely sentient life forms on Earth tend to shun fezzes, save for a few lower-intellect ape-decendants.
In short: fezzes are NOT cool.
"What's all this, then?" I asked, trying to determine the opposite of nonplussed without sounding like I was an addition equation.
"This," Sabrae said, her wings fluttering slightly, "is something you need to take to the London Zoo in 2015."
"Why?"
"Because he needs to learn English, you dope."
I Have a WHAT, Now?
As I'm going to tell you four entries ago, it was sapphire who named me The Madman. There is a very practical reason for this, beyond the fact that she and Lestor believed I was, in fact, mad...
After having been one with the time vortex, I became somewhat confused. My memory played a few tricks on me, such as it's favourite: Hide the Identity.
You see, while I remembered that I was a Time Lord from Gallifrey, and my family had a home near Mount Perdition, I had know idea WHO that family was, nor what they had decided to call me.
So, when, after my continued commentary about fez-wearing marsupials and omniscient, northern Atlantic sea-mammals, sapphire said, while trying to hurry Lestor away from window shopping for a TARDIS, "You can come back, The Madman is starting to freak me out.", I began to respond to that name.
This is a tangent, but an important one.
Standing in my office, now looking at two different Time Travel Capsules, with Lestor and a rather strange, yet small Terran coming out of one, and a young, unknown, yet oddly WINGED Time Lady coming out of the other, I was a bit confused.
Skippy proceeded to clarify the situation completely by vanishing.
"THERE you are," the strange, apparently avian Time Lady in front of me said.
"And there you are," was the only response I could think of that didn't involve the use of creamed corn.
"We've been looking for you for a while now. We haven't seen you in weeks."
"That's odd," I replied, "I've seen a tremendous amount of me."
"Madman," sapphire asked, from the sound of it, as perplexed as I was, "Who's this?"
"Madman? Why Madman?" the stranger asked.
"That's my name. The Madman."
"No it isn't. That's just stupid."
I stared at this mysterious Time Lady a moment. She wasn't tall, but was lean, with dark hair and eyes. Skin that was pale and seemed to shine some. She wore a black dress with boots. Her wings, in addition to not making a bloody PIECE of sense, were also black and somewhat ethereal.
The entire look struck deep into my mind and jarred something loose in my memory...
Which proceded to go deeper into hiding, not even giving me a hint who this person was.
"Wait a minute," the stranger said, with more than a hint of amusement in her voice, "You don't know who you are, do you?"
"Of course, I do, you sad excuse for a llama. I'm The Madman. I've already said."
"No, I mean your name."
I had to concede a point here. I, as I said, had no bloody idea what my name might be.
"Oh, now THAT is FANTASTIC!" the stranger laughed.
There is a point in the thought process where, as has often been depicted in film a startling realization occurs and the proverbial "light bulb" turns on. For me, there has never been a light bulb, but really more a heard of rampaging Ners-cattle stampede out of my ears. Of course, this wasn't happening at the moment.
"Why?" I asked, somewhat annoyed, "What's it matter to you?"
The stranger laughed louder.
"My name is Sabrae. And I'm your SISTER, you knob!"
To say this information hit me like a tonne of bricks would be unfortunate and degrading to the Sontaran battle fleet it ACTUALLY hit me like.
"Okay," I said, somewhat close to the general idea of conceiving the thought of trying to recover, "What's my name, then?"
"Oh," Sabrae laughed, "No, I'm not telling you that."
After having been one with the time vortex, I became somewhat confused. My memory played a few tricks on me, such as it's favourite: Hide the Identity.
You see, while I remembered that I was a Time Lord from Gallifrey, and my family had a home near Mount Perdition, I had know idea WHO that family was, nor what they had decided to call me.
So, when, after my continued commentary about fez-wearing marsupials and omniscient, northern Atlantic sea-mammals, sapphire said, while trying to hurry Lestor away from window shopping for a TARDIS, "You can come back, The Madman is starting to freak me out.", I began to respond to that name.
This is a tangent, but an important one.
Standing in my office, now looking at two different Time Travel Capsules, with Lestor and a rather strange, yet small Terran coming out of one, and a young, unknown, yet oddly WINGED Time Lady coming out of the other, I was a bit confused.
Skippy proceeded to clarify the situation completely by vanishing.
"THERE you are," the strange, apparently avian Time Lady in front of me said.
"And there you are," was the only response I could think of that didn't involve the use of creamed corn.
"We've been looking for you for a while now. We haven't seen you in weeks."
"That's odd," I replied, "I've seen a tremendous amount of me."
"Madman," sapphire asked, from the sound of it, as perplexed as I was, "Who's this?"
"Madman? Why Madman?" the stranger asked.
"That's my name. The Madman."
"No it isn't. That's just stupid."
I stared at this mysterious Time Lady a moment. She wasn't tall, but was lean, with dark hair and eyes. Skin that was pale and seemed to shine some. She wore a black dress with boots. Her wings, in addition to not making a bloody PIECE of sense, were also black and somewhat ethereal.
The entire look struck deep into my mind and jarred something loose in my memory...
Which proceded to go deeper into hiding, not even giving me a hint who this person was.
"Wait a minute," the stranger said, with more than a hint of amusement in her voice, "You don't know who you are, do you?"
"Of course, I do, you sad excuse for a llama. I'm The Madman. I've already said."
"No, I mean your name."
I had to concede a point here. I, as I said, had no bloody idea what my name might be.
"Oh, now THAT is FANTASTIC!" the stranger laughed.
There is a point in the thought process where, as has often been depicted in film a startling realization occurs and the proverbial "light bulb" turns on. For me, there has never been a light bulb, but really more a heard of rampaging Ners-cattle stampede out of my ears. Of course, this wasn't happening at the moment.
"Why?" I asked, somewhat annoyed, "What's it matter to you?"
The stranger laughed louder.
"My name is Sabrae. And I'm your SISTER, you knob!"
To say this information hit me like a tonne of bricks would be unfortunate and degrading to the Sontaran battle fleet it ACTUALLY hit me like.
"Okay," I said, somewhat close to the general idea of conceiving the thought of trying to recover, "What's my name, then?"
"Oh," Sabrae laughed, "No, I'm not telling you that."
Newish, Blueish, and Irwin, Which Doesn't Rhyme, but is Accurate, None the Less.
While I was accidentally setting off the worst genocide Earth's 20th century (or maybe last Thursday) would ever know, Lestor had gotten to work on his intended mission: the grounding of the Jupiter 2.
First thing Lestor did was get himself a new TARDIS.
I should tell you something about Lestor...
He's clever. He's resourceful. He's dedicated to his mission. And, he's a complete nutter when it comes to Time Travel Capsules.
By this point in the existence of the Killing Time Alliance, I had known Lestor for, by standard LINEAR temporal reference (the very thought of THAT makes my brain itch) roughly 4 days. During that time, Lestor had gone out, for various reasons, and gotten ahold of NINE brand new TARDISes. In all of the histories of the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash, I will never have seen anything like it.
So, as I said, Lestor went out and got himself a new TARDIS. I'll admit, it was a sporty one. No idea the type, mind you, but is was shiny and blue with all the incumbent buttons, levers, switches and puddles required for it to be, in a very real sense, a TARDIS that would make Omega, himself, put on a frilly dress and dance about in it.
From there, Lestor went to seek out a companion to help with his rather complicated mission.
Owing to the nature of fixed points in time, if one wishes to UNDO said fixed point, it's kind of imperative to, when looking for assistants, choose one whose very EXISTENCE is not dependent on said fixed point occurring. The resultant paperwork of trying to explain why this person (or, to be politically correct, this entity) exists when for example, their entire galaxy was wiped out billions of years ago, is enough to make the most BUREAUCRATIC Time Lord High Council member vanish into oblivion in a fit of frustration and writer's cramp.
It was for this reason, the Lestor decided to search for his companion in a time PRIOR to the launch of the Jupiter 2.
He materialized in what was then called Central Park (as opposed to now, when it is still called Central Park, but the pronunciation carries with it the implication of that name being short for "Central Park: Run Before They Shoot, But Avoid the Piles of Horse Dung") in New York City (strictly speaking, the first city to go by that name, so, technically, New York City), and was immediately greeted by a Terran child of ten years, who referred to Lestor as "Magic Space Man", as though the child had never traveled in time before.
Lestor, as I've said, is clever and resourceful. He reasoned that, for his mission, it was possible that someone would be needed to enter spaces that he, Lestor, was unable to fit. So, he did what any resourceful Time Lord would do in this situation: he decided to take the child with him, since logic dictated that having a ten year old Terran child sabotage an inter-stellar space vehicle that was being propelled by atomic motors fueled by the extremely unstable deutronium, nothing could POSSIBLY go wrong.
This realization made him ask the child the most relevant question to his mission...
"Excuse me, do you know the closest place I could obtain a type 35 or better Time Travel Capsule?"
I am told the child stood silent for a few moments.
"What's your name?" Lestor finally asked the child.
"Irwin"
"Well, Irwin, we're going to save the Whole Kind....the universe, Irwin. We're going to save the universe."
"I get to go with you, Mr. Magic Space Man?'
It is only through his dedication to his mission that Lestor didn't eject Irwin into the time vortex on the precisely 4,276,541,623 times such an act occurred to him.
Together, Lestor and Irwin then traveled to 1997. Lestor's first idea, mirrored the subtlety I attempted in Austria.
He believed that if he could prevent the media from attending the launch, the launch would them be scrubbed.
This idea does have some merit to it, as, in the last few years of Earth's 20th century, the motto was "If it's not on camera, it didn't happen"
To this end, he leaked a story to the major press institutions via his TARDIS that the vessel being launched was, in fact, NOT the Jupiter 2, but the Gemini 13.
This plan, however, didn't succeed. The very next day, the press retracted the story, and continued on, as normal.
This led to Lestor's back-up plan.
Materializing his TARDIS inside the Jupiter 2, he had Irwin pull the coolant feed lines from the suspended animation beds. This, unfortunately, alerted the ship's robot to their presence, though it appeared to mistake Irwin for the youngest member of the colonist's family, though it knew Lestor was, in fact, not meant to be there, as it's alert of "DANGER, ROBIN WILSON" was heard all the way at mission central.
Lestor did not have time to dispose of the coolant hoses, which, as it turns out, was a good thing.
The Jupiter 2 launched on schedule (Terran space mission safety inspectors tended to drink a great deal of intoxicants in that, now altered time stream), but it disappeared from sensors 2 minutes before launch.
Lestor and Irwin managed to get Lestor's TARDIS in the vortex before they were caught, and, after browsing a few new TTCs, proceeded to materialize in my office, 4 feet away from the pyramid with the purple and the black bird...
First thing Lestor did was get himself a new TARDIS.
I should tell you something about Lestor...
He's clever. He's resourceful. He's dedicated to his mission. And, he's a complete nutter when it comes to Time Travel Capsules.
By this point in the existence of the Killing Time Alliance, I had known Lestor for, by standard LINEAR temporal reference (the very thought of THAT makes my brain itch) roughly 4 days. During that time, Lestor had gone out, for various reasons, and gotten ahold of NINE brand new TARDISes. In all of the histories of the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash, I will never have seen anything like it.
So, as I said, Lestor went out and got himself a new TARDIS. I'll admit, it was a sporty one. No idea the type, mind you, but is was shiny and blue with all the incumbent buttons, levers, switches and puddles required for it to be, in a very real sense, a TARDIS that would make Omega, himself, put on a frilly dress and dance about in it.
From there, Lestor went to seek out a companion to help with his rather complicated mission.
Owing to the nature of fixed points in time, if one wishes to UNDO said fixed point, it's kind of imperative to, when looking for assistants, choose one whose very EXISTENCE is not dependent on said fixed point occurring. The resultant paperwork of trying to explain why this person (or, to be politically correct, this entity) exists when for example, their entire galaxy was wiped out billions of years ago, is enough to make the most BUREAUCRATIC Time Lord High Council member vanish into oblivion in a fit of frustration and writer's cramp.
It was for this reason, the Lestor decided to search for his companion in a time PRIOR to the launch of the Jupiter 2.
He materialized in what was then called Central Park (as opposed to now, when it is still called Central Park, but the pronunciation carries with it the implication of that name being short for "Central Park: Run Before They Shoot, But Avoid the Piles of Horse Dung") in New York City (strictly speaking, the first city to go by that name, so, technically, New York City), and was immediately greeted by a Terran child of ten years, who referred to Lestor as "Magic Space Man", as though the child had never traveled in time before.
Lestor, as I've said, is clever and resourceful. He reasoned that, for his mission, it was possible that someone would be needed to enter spaces that he, Lestor, was unable to fit. So, he did what any resourceful Time Lord would do in this situation: he decided to take the child with him, since logic dictated that having a ten year old Terran child sabotage an inter-stellar space vehicle that was being propelled by atomic motors fueled by the extremely unstable deutronium, nothing could POSSIBLY go wrong.
This realization made him ask the child the most relevant question to his mission...
"Excuse me, do you know the closest place I could obtain a type 35 or better Time Travel Capsule?"
I am told the child stood silent for a few moments.
"What's your name?" Lestor finally asked the child.
"Irwin"
"Well, Irwin, we're going to save the Whole Kind....the universe, Irwin. We're going to save the universe."
"I get to go with you, Mr. Magic Space Man?'
It is only through his dedication to his mission that Lestor didn't eject Irwin into the time vortex on the precisely 4,276,541,623 times such an act occurred to him.
Together, Lestor and Irwin then traveled to 1997. Lestor's first idea, mirrored the subtlety I attempted in Austria.
He believed that if he could prevent the media from attending the launch, the launch would them be scrubbed.
This idea does have some merit to it, as, in the last few years of Earth's 20th century, the motto was "If it's not on camera, it didn't happen"
To this end, he leaked a story to the major press institutions via his TARDIS that the vessel being launched was, in fact, NOT the Jupiter 2, but the Gemini 13.
This plan, however, didn't succeed. The very next day, the press retracted the story, and continued on, as normal.
This led to Lestor's back-up plan.
Materializing his TARDIS inside the Jupiter 2, he had Irwin pull the coolant feed lines from the suspended animation beds. This, unfortunately, alerted the ship's robot to their presence, though it appeared to mistake Irwin for the youngest member of the colonist's family, though it knew Lestor was, in fact, not meant to be there, as it's alert of "DANGER, ROBIN WILSON" was heard all the way at mission central.
Lestor did not have time to dispose of the coolant hoses, which, as it turns out, was a good thing.
The Jupiter 2 launched on schedule (Terran space mission safety inspectors tended to drink a great deal of intoxicants in that, now altered time stream), but it disappeared from sensors 2 minutes before launch.
Lestor and Irwin managed to get Lestor's TARDIS in the vortex before they were caught, and, after browsing a few new TTCs, proceeded to materialize in my office, 4 feet away from the pyramid with the purple and the black bird...
My First Mission, or Okay, I'm Sorry I Screwed Up Half a Century on Your World
In my now delusional and bemused TARDIS, sapphire, Lestor and myself sat in the library trying to decide on the first step towards our stated goal of preventing the Rise of Bieber.
We knew it was a fixed point, so it would require a heavy rewrite of the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash, and it was a confusing thing to determine where to begin.
And then, Skippy showed up.
"There are two things you need to remember about Bieber: He claims to be a musician and he is some kind of scientifically engineered super-mutant. It would be best to attack this from both those angles."
I should, at this point, tell you a bit about Skippy and his propensity for human speech.
As is well known, any available Gallifreyan Time Travel Capsule is capable of translating any known language into a language understandable by the TTC's associated Time Lord and all of their companions. There is, however, a flaw to this translation ability: the language must be known.
Kangaroos on Earth have an odd evolutionary history. While it's true that they DID in fact, originate on Earth, they evolved the ability to traverse physical space by way of hopping onto a passing huon, causing them to instantly enter said huon, be transmitted, as if by radio waves to ANOTHER huon outside of Mutter's Spiral, and there, become highly educated in university, which is run by the narwhals (you REALLY don't want to know about them). The problem is, the language they learn is impossibly old, and therefore, TTCs can't translate them.
Skippy, however, has circumvented this problem by becoming fluent in a human language. Sadly, that human language is English, which gives him a rather heavy obsession with cricket, even though he had no idea how to play.
"In the earth year 1912, a young bloke from Austria invented a new form of music..." Skippy continued.
"MC Dolfo. Yeah. Makes me head hurt," sapphire interrupted.
"Yes, well Dolfo's invention of free-style rap is a fixed point in time. It leads others with no musical ability nor taste to believe they can call themselves musicians merely because they can speak in rhythm. That would be an excellent point to start on the musical end of things. Madman, you and sapphire should prevent that. Remember, this is the first fixed point we're unraveling, so you need to be subtle about things."
"What about me?" Lestor was a bit eager to get started.
"In 1997, the United States launched the first extra-terrestrial human family into space for the purposes of interplanetary colonization. The family arrived, but they died shortly after due to the effects of the alien world on their biology. This is what caused the beginning of Earth's Corporate Mutants for Peace and Love, which, in turn, brought about Bieber. You need to prevent the launch of the Jupiter 2, or, barring that, prevent them from arriving at their intended destination. You'll need a companion for this. You should seek one out."
"I'll need a new TARDIS, as well. Mine's not meant for this type of thing. Not enough blue in it."
And so, Lestor went off in search of a companion and a bluer TARDIS.
I set the coordinates for Austria 1911 and sapphire and I undertook our mission.
Upon arriving and materializing outside the home of the future MC Dolfo, I hatched a plan to unravel history subtly. Grabbing a razor and shear, I climbed up the wall via corner bricks while sapphire kept the TARDIS' engines primed. I snuck in through the window, where I found a youngish bloke with long hair and a goatee sound asleep.
The best plan, I thought, was to remove this bloke's street credibility as a serious rapper.
So, in his sleep, I gave him the worst haircut and silliest moustache ever to exist, before jumping out the window to my waiting TARDIS.
On my way down, I heard a woman shouting from another room in the house: "Adolf! What's that noise?"
Back in the TARDIS, Skippy informed me that, while I HAD prevented MC Dolfo from ever inventing free-style rap, his anger over my alterations into his appearance lead him into politics.
Sorry bout that.
We were all wondering how Lestor was fairing on his mission when, in my office, we heard the sound of a TARDIS materializing. On our arrival, we were greeted by a pyramid with purple trim and some kind of black bird emblazoned on it. Clearly, lacking the blue Lestor was looking for, we knew it wasn't him, so we waited.
After a moment, the door slid open to reveal the console of another TARDIS. And out stepped a young Time Lady in black, with pale skin. A bit translucent-looking, but this is all a description in retrospect (or, given trans-temporal perspective, I've not seen her yet). Really, the only thing any of us noticed at first was that, somehow, this Time Lady had wings.
We knew it was a fixed point, so it would require a heavy rewrite of the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash, and it was a confusing thing to determine where to begin.
And then, Skippy showed up.
"There are two things you need to remember about Bieber: He claims to be a musician and he is some kind of scientifically engineered super-mutant. It would be best to attack this from both those angles."
I should, at this point, tell you a bit about Skippy and his propensity for human speech.
As is well known, any available Gallifreyan Time Travel Capsule is capable of translating any known language into a language understandable by the TTC's associated Time Lord and all of their companions. There is, however, a flaw to this translation ability: the language must be known.
Kangaroos on Earth have an odd evolutionary history. While it's true that they DID in fact, originate on Earth, they evolved the ability to traverse physical space by way of hopping onto a passing huon, causing them to instantly enter said huon, be transmitted, as if by radio waves to ANOTHER huon outside of Mutter's Spiral, and there, become highly educated in university, which is run by the narwhals (you REALLY don't want to know about them). The problem is, the language they learn is impossibly old, and therefore, TTCs can't translate them.
Skippy, however, has circumvented this problem by becoming fluent in a human language. Sadly, that human language is English, which gives him a rather heavy obsession with cricket, even though he had no idea how to play.
"In the earth year 1912, a young bloke from Austria invented a new form of music..." Skippy continued.
"MC Dolfo. Yeah. Makes me head hurt," sapphire interrupted.
"Yes, well Dolfo's invention of free-style rap is a fixed point in time. It leads others with no musical ability nor taste to believe they can call themselves musicians merely because they can speak in rhythm. That would be an excellent point to start on the musical end of things. Madman, you and sapphire should prevent that. Remember, this is the first fixed point we're unraveling, so you need to be subtle about things."
"What about me?" Lestor was a bit eager to get started.
"In 1997, the United States launched the first extra-terrestrial human family into space for the purposes of interplanetary colonization. The family arrived, but they died shortly after due to the effects of the alien world on their biology. This is what caused the beginning of Earth's Corporate Mutants for Peace and Love, which, in turn, brought about Bieber. You need to prevent the launch of the Jupiter 2, or, barring that, prevent them from arriving at their intended destination. You'll need a companion for this. You should seek one out."
"I'll need a new TARDIS, as well. Mine's not meant for this type of thing. Not enough blue in it."
And so, Lestor went off in search of a companion and a bluer TARDIS.
I set the coordinates for Austria 1911 and sapphire and I undertook our mission.
Upon arriving and materializing outside the home of the future MC Dolfo, I hatched a plan to unravel history subtly. Grabbing a razor and shear, I climbed up the wall via corner bricks while sapphire kept the TARDIS' engines primed. I snuck in through the window, where I found a youngish bloke with long hair and a goatee sound asleep.
The best plan, I thought, was to remove this bloke's street credibility as a serious rapper.
So, in his sleep, I gave him the worst haircut and silliest moustache ever to exist, before jumping out the window to my waiting TARDIS.
On my way down, I heard a woman shouting from another room in the house: "Adolf! What's that noise?"
Back in the TARDIS, Skippy informed me that, while I HAD prevented MC Dolfo from ever inventing free-style rap, his anger over my alterations into his appearance lead him into politics.
Sorry bout that.
We were all wondering how Lestor was fairing on his mission when, in my office, we heard the sound of a TARDIS materializing. On our arrival, we were greeted by a pyramid with purple trim and some kind of black bird emblazoned on it. Clearly, lacking the blue Lestor was looking for, we knew it wasn't him, so we waited.
After a moment, the door slid open to reveal the console of another TARDIS. And out stepped a young Time Lady in black, with pale skin. A bit translucent-looking, but this is all a description in retrospect (or, given trans-temporal perspective, I've not seen her yet). Really, the only thing any of us noticed at first was that, somehow, this Time Lady had wings.
The Laughter of Young Time Travel Capsules
Having been extricated from the vortex, I was physically a Time Lord of early adolescence, appearing to be in my mid to late 30s to the semi-sentient Terrans who believed they ran their planet. I was, in fact, 372 times older than creation, itself, but my TARDIS license says I'm 748. Regardless.
As I said, I met sapphire and her brother, Lestor. They helped me re-acclimate to the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash.
I explained what had happened in my past (though, from a purely trans-temporal perspective, my "past" can best be explained to any other sentient or semi-sentient life-form as "You remember that time in university when you drank so much you weren't sure what year it was or planet you were on? Yeah...that was my fault.") and I told them what my mission was to be, as foretold by Skippy.
Naturally, they believed me quite mad. It was sapphire who actually named me, which I am okay with, as who WOULDN'T want to be named by an incredibly sexy blonde?
I digress.
For a few days, they continued to think me mad. It likely didn't help that I followed them about relentlessly telling them that the entirety of the secrets to the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash was known only to the narwhals, and they had a wicked sense of humor.
No, I wasn't actually believed by them until a few days later, when they were attempting to run away from me in Lestor's TARDIS, only to find a fez-adorned kangaroo at the console. I'm not entirely certain where Skippy took them, as sapphire's always been silent about it and Lestor, when asked about the experience, has only been able to say "My GOD, it was worse than Jedward!"
When they rematerialized, they took me where I could get myself a TARDIS.
We arrived and I took my favourite: a heavily modified Type 45.
When I say took, I didn't pay for it.
TECHNICALLY, I didn't steal it, either.
I used what little influence I had left from my time merged with the vortex and pulled a temporal copy of it from a pocket dimension that was populated by nothing but identical copies of Phil Spector and pulled it into our universe.
I explained my plans to sapphire and Lestor and the two of them became the first members of the Killing Time Alliance. sapphire decided to travel with me, primarily since I caused some rather...squishy sensations for her and she had a soft spot for my way of thinking. Lestor would undertake missions on his own in his own TARDIS. Together, we'd try and spread the truth of the whole nonsense of reality to other Time Lords while trying to prevent the rise of Beiber the First.
And so, I had my first interface with the telepathic circuits of my TARDIS.
It's laughter wound up traveling through the vortex and caused an unfortunate bloke in a dressing gown on an alternate earth to have to hitch-hike off planet.
As I said, I met sapphire and her brother, Lestor. They helped me re-acclimate to the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash.
I explained what had happened in my past (though, from a purely trans-temporal perspective, my "past" can best be explained to any other sentient or semi-sentient life-form as "You remember that time in university when you drank so much you weren't sure what year it was or planet you were on? Yeah...that was my fault.") and I told them what my mission was to be, as foretold by Skippy.
Naturally, they believed me quite mad. It was sapphire who actually named me, which I am okay with, as who WOULDN'T want to be named by an incredibly sexy blonde?
I digress.
For a few days, they continued to think me mad. It likely didn't help that I followed them about relentlessly telling them that the entirety of the secrets to the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash was known only to the narwhals, and they had a wicked sense of humor.
No, I wasn't actually believed by them until a few days later, when they were attempting to run away from me in Lestor's TARDIS, only to find a fez-adorned kangaroo at the console. I'm not entirely certain where Skippy took them, as sapphire's always been silent about it and Lestor, when asked about the experience, has only been able to say "My GOD, it was worse than Jedward!"
When they rematerialized, they took me where I could get myself a TARDIS.
We arrived and I took my favourite: a heavily modified Type 45.
When I say took, I didn't pay for it.
TECHNICALLY, I didn't steal it, either.
I used what little influence I had left from my time merged with the vortex and pulled a temporal copy of it from a pocket dimension that was populated by nothing but identical copies of Phil Spector and pulled it into our universe.
I explained my plans to sapphire and Lestor and the two of them became the first members of the Killing Time Alliance. sapphire decided to travel with me, primarily since I caused some rather...squishy sensations for her and she had a soft spot for my way of thinking. Lestor would undertake missions on his own in his own TARDIS. Together, we'd try and spread the truth of the whole nonsense of reality to other Time Lords while trying to prevent the rise of Beiber the First.
And so, I had my first interface with the telepathic circuits of my TARDIS.
It's laughter wound up traveling through the vortex and caused an unfortunate bloke in a dressing gown on an alternate earth to have to hitch-hike off planet.
Out of All the Universes in This Gin Joint...
Diving into the Untempered Schism had the unfortunate side-effect of making me one with the whole of time and space. I say unfortunate for a reason.
Have you ever tried to put on a pair of pants that seemed a bit tight and wondered if they made your ass look fat? Well, imagine having an ass that crossed all dimensional and trans-temporal barriers. Essentially, an ass that existed everywhere and everywhen at once. I had that ass.
For an infinite moment, I was everywhere and everything and it gave me the WORST indigestion you can imagine.
During that instant, I witnessed a few things that caused me to realize that the laws of time were a load of dingoes kidneys and I was done with them.
I was able to briefly manifest in certain moments and cause a few ripples in the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash that is the universe, which were, for the most part, designed to get me out of the vortex, as I was already growing bored.
First, I was able to manifest back home on Gallifrey during the dark times. There, I challenged Rassilon, himself to the Game of Rassilon. Due to my influence on the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash, I had accidentally changed the nature of The Game of Rassilon, though, and, at that specific instant, it had changed from a game of survival in a gladiatorial battle area to a rousing game of lawn darts over tea.
I was victorious.
Later on, or perhaps earlier or right now, depending on one's temporal perspective, I ran across a rather interesting fellow Time Lord who insisted on being called The Doctor. Judging by his real name, which is INCREDIBLY embarrassing, I can understand why.
Anyway, I ran across him at the very end of Earth's twentieth century when he was being forced to make an emergency materialization in the city of San Francisco. For no apparent reason, I decided to make him half-human for 72 hours. Basically, I did this for a giggle. So, for 72 Terran hours, The Doctor was suddenly half-human, believing he had been the whole time, then losing all memory of it at the end of that time.
Oddly, it was this particular event that caused him to accidentally blow up his TARDIS several years later, then recreate the universe with a slightly more confusing one, which, in turn, brought me back to the the prime material, cutting me loose from the vortex and returning me to being only a PART of the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash.
Upon regaining existence, I met sapphire, my faithful companion and slave and her Time Lord brother, Lestor.
Have you ever tried to put on a pair of pants that seemed a bit tight and wondered if they made your ass look fat? Well, imagine having an ass that crossed all dimensional and trans-temporal barriers. Essentially, an ass that existed everywhere and everywhen at once. I had that ass.
For an infinite moment, I was everywhere and everything and it gave me the WORST indigestion you can imagine.
During that instant, I witnessed a few things that caused me to realize that the laws of time were a load of dingoes kidneys and I was done with them.
I was able to briefly manifest in certain moments and cause a few ripples in the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash that is the universe, which were, for the most part, designed to get me out of the vortex, as I was already growing bored.
First, I was able to manifest back home on Gallifrey during the dark times. There, I challenged Rassilon, himself to the Game of Rassilon. Due to my influence on the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash, I had accidentally changed the nature of The Game of Rassilon, though, and, at that specific instant, it had changed from a game of survival in a gladiatorial battle area to a rousing game of lawn darts over tea.
I was victorious.
Later on, or perhaps earlier or right now, depending on one's temporal perspective, I ran across a rather interesting fellow Time Lord who insisted on being called The Doctor. Judging by his real name, which is INCREDIBLY embarrassing, I can understand why.
Anyway, I ran across him at the very end of Earth's twentieth century when he was being forced to make an emergency materialization in the city of San Francisco. For no apparent reason, I decided to make him half-human for 72 hours. Basically, I did this for a giggle. So, for 72 Terran hours, The Doctor was suddenly half-human, believing he had been the whole time, then losing all memory of it at the end of that time.
Oddly, it was this particular event that caused him to accidentally blow up his TARDIS several years later, then recreate the universe with a slightly more confusing one, which, in turn, brought me back to the the prime material, cutting me loose from the vortex and returning me to being only a PART of the Whole Kind of General Mish-Mash.
Upon regaining existence, I met sapphire, my faithful companion and slave and her Time Lord brother, Lestor.
So... How it All Began.
As can be assumed, I'm a Time Lord. Born on Gallifrey in the Constellation of Kasterborous, and lightly drizzled with a red wine vinaigrette....Wait... Forget that last bit.
Regardless...
As with all Time Lords, at the age of eight, I would be taken before the Untempered Schism to gaze directly into the time vortex, which sounded like it would be fun.
The night before I was to be initiated, I was in my room at my family's home in the shadows of Mount Perdition, playing with some bit of archaic machinery brought back from late 20th century earth by a mate of my father. (I believe it's called a "digital watch", and it supposedly tells the time, but all I managed to make it do was to alter history and get a B-movie actor elected President of the United States for most of the earth decade of the 1980s.)
In a blinding roar and deafening smell of mackerel, I was startled by the appearance of an Earth marsupial (a kangaroo, I later found out) wearing a fez. He told me his name was Skippy.
Skippy told me that when I looked into the Untempered Schism, I would see something terrifying. Something that would, under normal circumstances, be a fixed point in time, but Skippy had come to me to warn me about it. Because of the exact moment I was to be looking into the Schism, I COULD alter it.
Of course, being a good Time Tot, I followed the Primary Laws of Rassilon, the 23rd of which states "Marsupials in Middle Eastern head-wear are not to be trusted."
The following morning, I was taken before the Schism and stared directly into the whole of time and space.
At first, all I could see were the pretty colours, but slowly, an image began to form.
Terrifying...
Hideous...
Truly the most disturbing vision ANY Time Lord could behold...
Galactic Emperor Justin Bieber the First!
I had to stop this from ever occurring, so I did what no Time Lord had ever done before...
I dove into the Untempered Schism.
Oddly, the time vortex tastes like bananas.
To Be Continued...
Regardless...
As with all Time Lords, at the age of eight, I would be taken before the Untempered Schism to gaze directly into the time vortex, which sounded like it would be fun.
The night before I was to be initiated, I was in my room at my family's home in the shadows of Mount Perdition, playing with some bit of archaic machinery brought back from late 20th century earth by a mate of my father. (I believe it's called a "digital watch", and it supposedly tells the time, but all I managed to make it do was to alter history and get a B-movie actor elected President of the United States for most of the earth decade of the 1980s.)
In a blinding roar and deafening smell of mackerel, I was startled by the appearance of an Earth marsupial (a kangaroo, I later found out) wearing a fez. He told me his name was Skippy.
Skippy told me that when I looked into the Untempered Schism, I would see something terrifying. Something that would, under normal circumstances, be a fixed point in time, but Skippy had come to me to warn me about it. Because of the exact moment I was to be looking into the Schism, I COULD alter it.
Of course, being a good Time Tot, I followed the Primary Laws of Rassilon, the 23rd of which states "Marsupials in Middle Eastern head-wear are not to be trusted."
The following morning, I was taken before the Schism and stared directly into the whole of time and space.
At first, all I could see were the pretty colours, but slowly, an image began to form.
Terrifying...
Hideous...
Truly the most disturbing vision ANY Time Lord could behold...
Galactic Emperor Justin Bieber the First!
I had to stop this from ever occurring, so I did what no Time Lord had ever done before...
I dove into the Untempered Schism.
Oddly, the time vortex tastes like bananas.
To Be Continued...
Watch This Space
No....
Seriously...
Watch it.
It does tricks.
Okay. I'm lying to you. Deliberately wasting your time. And that's what this is all about.
I'm The Madman. The definitive article, you might say. This is the location where I will provide my story as it happened, will happen and is happening. That is to say this:
This is a work of fiction, as far as many of you may be concerned.
More specifically, it is a work of meta-fiction of the Second Life variety.
This is the story of the formation of an amusing alliance of Time Lords and Ladies from Gallifrey from one of an innumerable amount (likely 42, but it could be 25 or 624) of alternate dimensions, and how it all began with the unexpected help of a fez-obsessed kangaroo...
To be continued...
Seriously...
Watch it.
It does tricks.
Okay. I'm lying to you. Deliberately wasting your time. And that's what this is all about.
I'm The Madman. The definitive article, you might say. This is the location where I will provide my story as it happened, will happen and is happening. That is to say this:
This is a work of fiction, as far as many of you may be concerned.
More specifically, it is a work of meta-fiction of the Second Life variety.
This is the story of the formation of an amusing alliance of Time Lords and Ladies from Gallifrey from one of an innumerable amount (likely 42, but it could be 25 or 624) of alternate dimensions, and how it all began with the unexpected help of a fez-obsessed kangaroo...
To be continued...
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