The technology in this place was fascinating. Not only was it interesting but in general Dan found it helpful to concentrate on something positive to get his mind off the fact that he had been kidnapped. Add that to the fact that he had found his bunker from back home and that he was naturally inclined to keep to himself, Dan had socialized very
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What is a radio?
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It's, um. It looks like a metal box. Usually people use it to listen to music.
[Of course radios have other uses too, but he doesn't want to make things too complicated to start off with.]
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[Seems silly to make up a new word when music box pretty accurately describes a metal box people use to listen to music, but there are a lot of things people do around here that make no sense.]
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Imagine that you wanted a lot of people to listen to something. It could be yourself talking, or maybe a song. Anything that a person can hear. Using special equipment you can send that sound to anyone who also has a radio.
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A rallying point in an incomprehensible language. Growing up, he'd heard way too many speeches like that on the wireless to be comfortable with it turning up here.
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"Just because it's an alien language doesn't mean they're our aliens," Dan mentions. He doesn't mean it in a nagging way, he's only thinking of the possibilities at this point. "Hell, I just called them 'our aliens.' I hope they don't, I don't know, smite me or whatever it's called."
Underneath his desk Dan takes a cautionary knock on wood. It couldn't hurt.
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The radio being on (in fact having a radio at all) had been some farcical tribute to Braxiatel, supposed the unqualified psychologist in the back of his mind. It was supposed to have been calming, and with the situation he was currently in, Narvin could have very well used a bit of calm.
What he got instead was voices he couldn't understand, a burst of static and an ear-splitting screech of feedback that was a stab to the eardrums no matter how Time Lord his biology was. Beyond that, however, the fact that even he had no idea what the voices had been talking about frustrated him. He didn't even have a clue as to origin ( ... )
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"What was it you were listening to when that whole..." was there even a word for it? "business happened?"
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"Is that an argument for or against your insanity?" Narvin hoped 'for'. It was better to be insane on Gallifrey than sane and trapped in whatever this Taxon place was. It wasn't difficult to be insane on Gallifrey.
"Classical," he replied laconically. "Debussy, I think." It might have been at least a century or so since Narvin actually sat down to listen to music, so he was a little rusty in his recognition. "In any case, I don't remember many compositions having a burst of static and feedback, unless they were being wildly experimental, I suppose."
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"Sounds like the same thing was broadcast no matter what station people were listening to." If Narvin felt inclined to ask, Dan was listening to familiar music from back home. Not that 80s pop was his favorite thing, but it helped keep him grounded.
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River is looking a little frazzled, but compared to other possible reactions to strange voices and feedback she's doing pretty well.
"They use other avenues. With mouths."
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