[BTR] [Fic] One day he crossed some line, and he was too much in this world.
{{OOC: This is not high art. Or, really, much art at all. I don't care. It just needs to exist to be scaffolding.}}
{{OOC PS: ...also, it's backdated to just after Trickster Week. WHAT? It didn't want to be written, okay?}}
J has no idea whether the TARDIS has some sense of covert operations beyond what's granted by her chameleon circuit or whether she just has truly fantastic timing, but in either case, she picks a perfect moment to materialize in the shape of a workbench in the back of Lynn's shop: he's the only one in the store, and whatever Lynn is doing out back - probably welding something - is noisy enough in its own right, and the mask she's wearing just guarantees that she won't hear an alien timeship touching down in her workroom.
J picks his hands from the thing he's working on - nothing terribly important, certainly not as important as it is complex; it's just a clock, mostly to provide anyone who comes looking with a red herring. The TARDIS is settling in; after a moment a compartment on the side of the desk opens, leaving a clear path to the inside.
:: has.brought{(materials)&&(schematics)&&(limiter)} :: she transmits, directly into the raw nerves of his psychic mind, and he startles despite himself. :: direct(enter) ::
J wipes off his hands. It seems respectful; moreover it seems as though this is a time at which he should offer respect. The distaste the TARDIS has shown him doesn't seem to be decreasing, whether or not she's inviting him to crawl around in her innards.
The first time he stepped inside the TARDIS - a TARDIS, he has to remind himself now; there wasn't only one of them, and it certainly hadn't been this one - it had been the luckiest moment of his life. He'd been snatched back from the jaws of death, and though he didn't realize it until later, he'd come to a place in his life which mattered.
Now, meaning and direction are arraying themselves like a gauntlet around him as he slips through the door, and he's stepping into a TARDIS which has agreed to help him die.
It's almost fitting.
The bridge is as he remembers it, not that he has much time to look around. A door phases into existence to his right, and the TARDIS directs his attention to it immediately. :: is{lab} ::, she says. :: require(obtain(set:{materials})) ; i.direct() ::
"All right," he says, and walks on through.
The lab is more self-explanatory than any room he's seen in the TARDIS before - but, then again, given the work being done there and the time at which it was used, maybe distractions had been unwelcome. A machine, reaching up almost to his hip, has been pushed into the corner; clustered around its base are various tools, bits and bobs, and he kneels to sort through them.
:: is.required({ALL}) ::, the TARDIS says.
J nods, gathering them up and hoping that none of them are volatile. "And this is the main body of the limiter?"
:: is.affirmative;; ::
"A limiter," he repeats. "But this only blocks the field transferrence, doesn't it? Limits the effect. It would have to stay on in order to be effective over the long term?"
:: is.affirmative{} ::, the TARDIS responds.
"There are people who would deactivate it," J says. Against all laws of what he would want and what would be better for them. There are times when he wonders when he started recruiting people with faith.
The TARDIS makes a small, annoyed noise.
"Is it possible," he asks, "to sever the connection to the morphogenic imprint entirely? Or to eradicate the imprint in the field?"
The TARDIS thinks for a few seconds, which J has the feeling means it's a complicated question. After a moment she answers :: condition{is.possible == YES} ; technology«require(erasure) == !exist.in-scope{TARDIS} ; technology«require(severance) == exist.in-scope{TARDIS} && {schematic|construction} == DIFFICULT ::
"Difficult's no problem," he says. "I've got some time to learn."
The TARDIS may catch the joke, or she may not. In any case, she responds by attaching another door to the room he's in, and directing him through it.
:: entity{you}.require(technology.set{as-follows}) ::, she says, and he tucks the limiter under his arm and goes as directed.
The next few minutes are comprised of him digging through bits and pieces one Doctor or another has seen fit to stow in here - some familiar, most decidedly not, and he pauses, once in a while, to close his eyes and breathe away the pangs. This is so close to what he wanted to be doing, so close to what he imagined in those centuries of scouring the universe, looking for someone who didn't want to be found...
And so far away that there's no reckoning, any more.
At last he has a pile of components and the unfinished limiter, and he looks up toward the ceiling. The TARDIS has been watching all of this, inscrutable as always, and he spreads his hands. "Now what?"
:: {schematics} ::, she says simply, and just like that, there's information in high-definition exact-detail nuance and form inside his head, every part and component slotting into his understanding.
He almost staggers.
The low sear from the TARDIS's psychic communication was distracting enough, but this falls in like a shelf of hot knives, the data cutting its way into his mind and settling there, sharp edges and stabbing heat. He grabs onto one of the pillars until it passes, resting in an uneasy heap of foreign thought.
"...thanks," he says.
The TARDIS scans him, and he winces away. But apparently what she sees passes inspection. :: suggest.{you(build)} ::, she transmits.
That's probably a dismissal.
After he's gathered up the materials, after he's walked back onto the bridge and the doors to the interior have sealed off again, but before he puts his hand on the door, he turns back to the glowing central pillar. "Thank you," he says again, but the meaning is different; it's for this, for things before, for things she never did. The people to thank for those aren't here.
The TARDIS doesn't respond.
He steps outside.
The TARDIS wastes no time in beginning to dematerialize, and while there's more he might have had to say... it's the theme of all of this. It doesn't matter.
Besides, soon she's gone, and he's left standing with a stack of alien technology in his hands.
{{OOC PS: ...also, it's backdated to just after Trickster Week. WHAT? It didn't want to be written, okay?}}
J has no idea whether the TARDIS has some sense of covert operations beyond what's granted by her chameleon circuit or whether she just has truly fantastic timing, but in either case, she picks a perfect moment to materialize in the shape of a workbench in the back of Lynn's shop: he's the only one in the store, and whatever Lynn is doing out back - probably welding something - is noisy enough in its own right, and the mask she's wearing just guarantees that she won't hear an alien timeship touching down in her workroom.
J picks his hands from the thing he's working on - nothing terribly important, certainly not as important as it is complex; it's just a clock, mostly to provide anyone who comes looking with a red herring. The TARDIS is settling in; after a moment a compartment on the side of the desk opens, leaving a clear path to the inside.
:: has.brought{(materials)&&(schematics)&&(limiter)} :: she transmits, directly into the raw nerves of his psychic mind, and he startles despite himself. :: direct(enter) ::
J wipes off his hands. It seems respectful; moreover it seems as though this is a time at which he should offer respect. The distaste the TARDIS has shown him doesn't seem to be decreasing, whether or not she's inviting him to crawl around in her innards.
The first time he stepped inside the TARDIS - a TARDIS, he has to remind himself now; there wasn't only one of them, and it certainly hadn't been this one - it had been the luckiest moment of his life. He'd been snatched back from the jaws of death, and though he didn't realize it until later, he'd come to a place in his life which mattered.
Now, meaning and direction are arraying themselves like a gauntlet around him as he slips through the door, and he's stepping into a TARDIS which has agreed to help him die.
It's almost fitting.
The bridge is as he remembers it, not that he has much time to look around. A door phases into existence to his right, and the TARDIS directs his attention to it immediately. :: is{lab} ::, she says. :: require(obtain(set:{materials})) ; i.direct() ::
"All right," he says, and walks on through.
The lab is more self-explanatory than any room he's seen in the TARDIS before - but, then again, given the work being done there and the time at which it was used, maybe distractions had been unwelcome. A machine, reaching up almost to his hip, has been pushed into the corner; clustered around its base are various tools, bits and bobs, and he kneels to sort through them.
:: is.required({ALL}) ::, the TARDIS says.
J nods, gathering them up and hoping that none of them are volatile. "And this is the main body of the limiter?"
:: is.affirmative;; ::
"A limiter," he repeats. "But this only blocks the field transferrence, doesn't it? Limits the effect. It would have to stay on in order to be effective over the long term?"
:: is.affirmative{} ::, the TARDIS responds.
"There are people who would deactivate it," J says. Against all laws of what he would want and what would be better for them. There are times when he wonders when he started recruiting people with faith.
The TARDIS makes a small, annoyed noise.
"Is it possible," he asks, "to sever the connection to the morphogenic imprint entirely? Or to eradicate the imprint in the field?"
The TARDIS thinks for a few seconds, which J has the feeling means it's a complicated question. After a moment she answers :: condition{is.possible == YES} ; technology«require(erasure) == !exist.in-scope{TARDIS} ; technology«require(severance) == exist.in-scope{TARDIS} && {schematic|construction} == DIFFICULT ::
"Difficult's no problem," he says. "I've got some time to learn."
The TARDIS may catch the joke, or she may not. In any case, she responds by attaching another door to the room he's in, and directing him through it.
:: entity{you}.require(technology.set{as-follows}) ::, she says, and he tucks the limiter under his arm and goes as directed.
The next few minutes are comprised of him digging through bits and pieces one Doctor or another has seen fit to stow in here - some familiar, most decidedly not, and he pauses, once in a while, to close his eyes and breathe away the pangs. This is so close to what he wanted to be doing, so close to what he imagined in those centuries of scouring the universe, looking for someone who didn't want to be found...
And so far away that there's no reckoning, any more.
At last he has a pile of components and the unfinished limiter, and he looks up toward the ceiling. The TARDIS has been watching all of this, inscrutable as always, and he spreads his hands. "Now what?"
:: {schematics} ::, she says simply, and just like that, there's information in high-definition exact-detail nuance and form inside his head, every part and component slotting into his understanding.
He almost staggers.
The low sear from the TARDIS's psychic communication was distracting enough, but this falls in like a shelf of hot knives, the data cutting its way into his mind and settling there, sharp edges and stabbing heat. He grabs onto one of the pillars until it passes, resting in an uneasy heap of foreign thought.
"...thanks," he says.
The TARDIS scans him, and he winces away. But apparently what she sees passes inspection. :: suggest.{you(build)} ::, she transmits.
That's probably a dismissal.
After he's gathered up the materials, after he's walked back onto the bridge and the doors to the interior have sealed off again, but before he puts his hand on the door, he turns back to the glowing central pillar. "Thank you," he says again, but the meaning is different; it's for this, for things before, for things she never did. The people to thank for those aren't here.
The TARDIS doesn't respond.
He steps outside.
The TARDIS wastes no time in beginning to dematerialize, and while there's more he might have had to say... it's the theme of all of this. It doesn't matter.
Besides, soon she's gone, and he's left standing with a stack of alien technology in his hands.