Not Evil As Such
Title: Not Evil As Such
Rating: G
Characters: The Doctor, Human!Harry Saxon
Warnings/Spoilers: None. See note.
Wordcount: 814
Summary: The internet is down! It must be aliens!
Notes: Human!Harry is stolen from Aria's Doctor Who Season Four series; however, just as that series is AU from canon, this is AU from Aria's 'verse. All you really need to know for this story is that Harry's on Earth, running a used bookstore and causing trouble in his spare time. (If you haven't read Aria's series, you really should go and do that immediately.)
A series of heavy grinding wheezes echoed through the storeroom. Harry's eyes didn't move away from his computer.
A few moments later the storeroom door opened, and the Doctor strolled out. "Hello, Harry!"
"You know, most people use the front door. The hours are posted and everything." He finally looked up, managing to convey his utter disinterest in all things Doctorish with one glance through his eyelashes. "What brings you here?"
"I did say I'd be checking up on you." There was a hint of warning in the Doctor's voice.
Harry blinked innocently. "Good timing. I'm on my lunch break. Playing sudoku." He indicated the computer screen with a sweep of his hand.
The Doctor peered at the screen. "Yes, so I see." He frowned. "Where'd you find a grid with 6561 squares?"
Harry shrugged. "Sometimes you have to make your own amusements."
The Doctor perched on the edge of Harry's desk, fiddling with his cup of pens. "I assume you're playing sudoku because half the internet is down."
"Of course. Because I spend most of my lunch breaks updating my status on Facebook."
The Doctor ignored the sarcasm. "Facebook, Twitter, several of the other social networking sites. Even some of the Google sites are down."
"You know, I remember a time when the Doctor would show up and it would mean impending doom for the entire world. Daleks, Sontarans, Cybermen. Now you're dropping in because suddenly people can't whine on the internet?"
The Doctor had on his not-amused face, Harry noted. He hadn't learned yet that Harry took that one as a personal challenge. "Millions of people use those sites as their primary means of communication."
Harry snorted. "Frankly, Doctor, anyone who can express their deepest thoughts and desires in 140 characters or less shouldn't be allowed any means of communication."
The Doctor, a long-winded pontificator in good standing, looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head sharply. "That's really not our job to decide. This is not a joke, Harry. It could have potentially serious repercussions."
Harry sat back in his chair. "Thousands of people had to pick up the phone to call their loved ones instead of texting a few words. A few hundred people actually went outside, perhaps, and made eye contact with other real people. They got a chance to smell the...hyacinths?"
"It's--" The Doctor started, and Harry cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand.
"Whatever. My point is, it's not exactly attempted world domination, now is it?"
The Doctor put down the pen-cup, finally, and looked carefully at Harry. "Well, I suppose not," he conceded doubtfully.
Harry spread his hands. "There you are, then. Nothing to worry about. Have you got any idea what's causing it?"
The Doctor picked up a snow-globe paperweight and began tossing it from one hand to the other. "Oh, there are lots of theories. Evil communist Russians. Evil socialist Europeans. Evil capitalist Republicans. Aliens."
"Evil aliens?" Harry suggested helpfully.
The Doctor cocked an eyebrow at him. "Hm. Maybe. Maybe not evil, as such."
Harry reached over and rescued the paperweight, setting it firmly down on his desk. "Maybe not alien, as such."
"It always comes down to a matter of opinion, doesn't it?" The Doctor sighed and ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up even more wildly than usual. "The real question is why. Why would someone cause all this trouble?"
Harry cocked an eyebrow at him. "Cui bono, Doctor? What's the end result?"
"Well, I suppose..." The Doctor trailed off, focusing in on Harry. "I'm here, for a start."
"You know, you really are incredibly self-centered," Harry pointed out unnecessarily. "But yes, you are here." He grinned widely at the Doctor.
The Doctor made an effort to look disapproving, but it was half-hearted at best. "Really, Harry. If you were bored, you have my mobile number."
"Oh, and how mundane would that have been, exactly?" Harry stood up. "Are you ready?"
"Shouldn't you close the shop or something?"
Harry grinned at him again. "Already did. I figured you'd be showing up right about now. People can get their used books somewhere else for a bit."
The Doctor looked at his computer again. "Are you going to fix this?"
Harry shook his head. "They'll deal with it eventually. Look at it this way, it's boosting the economy. Hundreds of specialists working overtime, gathered round their terminals, swearing in unison. It's heart-warming, really."
The Doctor cast one last doubtful look at the computer, and then shrugged, heading back to the storeroom. "So, do you really have a Facebook?"
"I used to." Harry followed him. "It's probably still out there somewhere. Status permanently set on 'Still not Prime Minister.'"
The storeroom door clicked shut behind them. Moments later the asthmatic grinding sound resounded through the shop again, but no one was there to hear it.
Rating: G
Characters: The Doctor, Human!Harry Saxon
Warnings/Spoilers: None. See note.
Wordcount: 814
Summary: The internet is down! It must be aliens!
Notes: Human!Harry is stolen from Aria's Doctor Who Season Four series; however, just as that series is AU from canon, this is AU from Aria's 'verse. All you really need to know for this story is that Harry's on Earth, running a used bookstore and causing trouble in his spare time. (If you haven't read Aria's series, you really should go and do that immediately.)
A series of heavy grinding wheezes echoed through the storeroom. Harry's eyes didn't move away from his computer.
A few moments later the storeroom door opened, and the Doctor strolled out. "Hello, Harry!"
"You know, most people use the front door. The hours are posted and everything." He finally looked up, managing to convey his utter disinterest in all things Doctorish with one glance through his eyelashes. "What brings you here?"
"I did say I'd be checking up on you." There was a hint of warning in the Doctor's voice.
Harry blinked innocently. "Good timing. I'm on my lunch break. Playing sudoku." He indicated the computer screen with a sweep of his hand.
The Doctor peered at the screen. "Yes, so I see." He frowned. "Where'd you find a grid with 6561 squares?"
Harry shrugged. "Sometimes you have to make your own amusements."
The Doctor perched on the edge of Harry's desk, fiddling with his cup of pens. "I assume you're playing sudoku because half the internet is down."
"Of course. Because I spend most of my lunch breaks updating my status on Facebook."
The Doctor ignored the sarcasm. "Facebook, Twitter, several of the other social networking sites. Even some of the Google sites are down."
"You know, I remember a time when the Doctor would show up and it would mean impending doom for the entire world. Daleks, Sontarans, Cybermen. Now you're dropping in because suddenly people can't whine on the internet?"
The Doctor had on his not-amused face, Harry noted. He hadn't learned yet that Harry took that one as a personal challenge. "Millions of people use those sites as their primary means of communication."
Harry snorted. "Frankly, Doctor, anyone who can express their deepest thoughts and desires in 140 characters or less shouldn't be allowed any means of communication."
The Doctor, a long-winded pontificator in good standing, looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head sharply. "That's really not our job to decide. This is not a joke, Harry. It could have potentially serious repercussions."
Harry sat back in his chair. "Thousands of people had to pick up the phone to call their loved ones instead of texting a few words. A few hundred people actually went outside, perhaps, and made eye contact with other real people. They got a chance to smell the...hyacinths?"
"It's--" The Doctor started, and Harry cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand.
"Whatever. My point is, it's not exactly attempted world domination, now is it?"
The Doctor put down the pen-cup, finally, and looked carefully at Harry. "Well, I suppose not," he conceded doubtfully.
Harry spread his hands. "There you are, then. Nothing to worry about. Have you got any idea what's causing it?"
The Doctor picked up a snow-globe paperweight and began tossing it from one hand to the other. "Oh, there are lots of theories. Evil communist Russians. Evil socialist Europeans. Evil capitalist Republicans. Aliens."
"Evil aliens?" Harry suggested helpfully.
The Doctor cocked an eyebrow at him. "Hm. Maybe. Maybe not evil, as such."
Harry reached over and rescued the paperweight, setting it firmly down on his desk. "Maybe not alien, as such."
"It always comes down to a matter of opinion, doesn't it?" The Doctor sighed and ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up even more wildly than usual. "The real question is why. Why would someone cause all this trouble?"
Harry cocked an eyebrow at him. "Cui bono, Doctor? What's the end result?"
"Well, I suppose..." The Doctor trailed off, focusing in on Harry. "I'm here, for a start."
"You know, you really are incredibly self-centered," Harry pointed out unnecessarily. "But yes, you are here." He grinned widely at the Doctor.
The Doctor made an effort to look disapproving, but it was half-hearted at best. "Really, Harry. If you were bored, you have my mobile number."
"Oh, and how mundane would that have been, exactly?" Harry stood up. "Are you ready?"
"Shouldn't you close the shop or something?"
Harry grinned at him again. "Already did. I figured you'd be showing up right about now. People can get their used books somewhere else for a bit."
The Doctor looked at his computer again. "Are you going to fix this?"
Harry shook his head. "They'll deal with it eventually. Look at it this way, it's boosting the economy. Hundreds of specialists working overtime, gathered round their terminals, swearing in unison. It's heart-warming, really."
The Doctor cast one last doubtful look at the computer, and then shrugged, heading back to the storeroom. "So, do you really have a Facebook?"
"I used to." Harry followed him. "It's probably still out there somewhere. Status permanently set on 'Still not Prime Minister.'"
The storeroom door clicked shut behind them. Moments later the asthmatic grinding sound resounded through the shop again, but no one was there to hear it.