He looks down at the map, then up towards the unassuming building.
Geocomtex.
To anyone passing the building on the Utah motorways, this is just another software company. He knows better. He remembers. He closes his eyes and he can still see it. That Dalek. Full of rage and hatred and war. Ready and waiting to kill. It's hatred building with
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Comments 25
A bit like a guardian angel, the Doctor--the proper Doctor, original Doctor, nestled in this poor non-Doctor's head---seems to have a voice of his own. And if he had a form, he'd be standing near where the not-quite Doctor is crouched, hands in his pockets and a disapproving look on his face.
"It's wrong to go in there and it's wrong to be here. We shouldn't know what's there. You know that."
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"They're Daleks. It's a flippin' Dalek and you can't tell me that's not dangerous," she argued. "Someone has to deal with it."
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"Both of you," he shouted out loud. "Quiet!"
He pulled out his homemade sonic screwdriver, smacking it a couple times to get it to work.
"And we do know what's here. And I am here. Maybe you should have thought of that before you left me to rot here."
He smacked the screwdriver one more time in frustration, until it finally lit up.
"It is dangerous. It does need to be dealt with. Not another word!"
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He waved a hand towards the Donna on the other shoulder. "She doesn't know. She thinks too much with her emotions. You and I, we've seen what they can do. We're the only ones who can be more than them."
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