This is my real Current Projects Update
Seeing as I'm stuck here on desk/lab/Rift duty while my leg heals, I may as well do the project update I didn't get to do yesterday.
Yes, I'm sure you all think it would be hilarious to see me trying to chase Weevils while on crutches, and yes, I am quite in the mood to spray a Weevil or two in the face. Still, it isn't going to happen, so don't hold your breath.
Yesterday evening when I woke up from my Percocet nap, I rang up an old classmate of mine from King's who happens to work at University Hospital. Mandy knows I'm working "special ops for the Government" (she still thinks I'm with UNIT) so she was willing to see me this morning to take a look at my leg without being too curious as to where I got the injury. Stitching up one's own leg in an emergency, while dashing and heroic if I do say so myself, is no substitute for proper medical attention. She had to re-do the stitches, which was no fun at all but will keep me from having some ugly scars later on, and all she asked in return was "gossip". No, Mandy, I'm no longer wearing the engagement ring; yes, Mandy, it's all right, Tom and I are still friends. Yes, Mandy, I know about the "bus in the tunnel" incident; no, Mandy, I can't tell you much about it except it's sorted. No, I didn't know Constance and Brian got married, and I certainly didn't know they've already divorced when he caught her having it off with a big burly nurse in the dispensary! LOL!
See? I didn't even have to retcon her! :)
So: Projects.
The protozooids are communicating! They blink in binary! It was silly of me not to realise it before. After all, blinking is just on/off, one/zero, right? Here's what they're saying so far:
0100010001100101011000010111001000100000010100110110101101111001001000000100011101101111011001000111001100101100001000000111000001101100011001010110000101110011011001010010000001110011011001010110111001100100001000000111000001101100011000010110111001101011011101000110111101101110001011100010000001010100011010000110100101110011001000000110000101101100011001110110000101100101001000000110100101110011001000000111001001110101011000100110001001101001011100110110100000101110001000000101010001101000011000010110111001101011011100110010110000100000011011000110111101110110011001010010000001100001011011100110010000100000011101110111001001101001011001110110011101101100011001010111001100100001
Also, I've made some determination as to why we had a zombie attack the other day. I'm not best pleased. It seems that when I did the examination of the Donna mummy I inadvertently released microscopic particles of genetic material into the morgue drawer area. Since Donna's genetic material was fused with... well, you know... there was just enough residual regenerative energy to reanimate the corpses. NOT to regenerate them -- there wasn't anywhere near enough energy to do that. We were indeed defending ourselves from zombies, not living beings. Which offers cold comfort to me, as I may well have been responsible for reanimating them.
Or I could just blame our "visitors" who were examining the mummy with me. Or I could just say "bloody Torchwood", shrug it off and get on with my life. I think that's best. See? I'm learning; oh lord, how I'm learning!
Yes, I'm sure you all think it would be hilarious to see me trying to chase Weevils while on crutches, and yes, I am quite in the mood to spray a Weevil or two in the face. Still, it isn't going to happen, so don't hold your breath.
Yesterday evening when I woke up from my Percocet nap, I rang up an old classmate of mine from King's who happens to work at University Hospital. Mandy knows I'm working "special ops for the Government" (she still thinks I'm with UNIT) so she was willing to see me this morning to take a look at my leg without being too curious as to where I got the injury. Stitching up one's own leg in an emergency, while dashing and heroic if I do say so myself, is no substitute for proper medical attention. She had to re-do the stitches, which was no fun at all but will keep me from having some ugly scars later on, and all she asked in return was "gossip". No, Mandy, I'm no longer wearing the engagement ring; yes, Mandy, it's all right, Tom and I are still friends. Yes, Mandy, I know about the "bus in the tunnel" incident; no, Mandy, I can't tell you much about it except it's sorted. No, I didn't know Constance and Brian got married, and I certainly didn't know they've already divorced when he caught her having it off with a big burly nurse in the dispensary! LOL!
See? I didn't even have to retcon her! :)
So: Projects.
The protozooids are communicating! They blink in binary! It was silly of me not to realise it before. After all, blinking is just on/off, one/zero, right? Here's what they're saying so far:
0100010001100101011000010111001000100000010100110110101101111001001000000100011101101111011001000111001100101100001000000111000001101100011001010110000101110011011001010010000001110011011001010110111001100100001000000111000001101100011000010110111001101011011101000110111101101110001011100010000001010100011010000110100101110011001000000110000101101100011001110110000101100101001000000110100101110011001000000111001001110101011000100110001001101001011100110110100000101110001000000101010001101000011000010110111001101011011100110010110000100000011011000110111101110110011001010010000001100001011011100110010000100000011101110111001001101001011001110110011101101100011001010111001100100001
Also, I've made some determination as to why we had a zombie attack the other day. I'm not best pleased. It seems that when I did the examination of the Donna mummy I inadvertently released microscopic particles of genetic material into the morgue drawer area. Since Donna's genetic material was fused with... well, you know... there was just enough residual regenerative energy to reanimate the corpses. NOT to regenerate them -- there wasn't anywhere near enough energy to do that. We were indeed defending ourselves from zombies, not living beings. Which offers cold comfort to me, as I may well have been responsible for reanimating them.
Or I could just blame our "visitors" who were examining the mummy with me. Or I could just say "bloody Torchwood", shrug it off and get on with my life. I think that's best. See? I'm learning; oh lord, how I'm learning!