The Doctor (#12) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
axefight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-06-19 06:05 pm
axefight) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-06-19 06:05 pm
(open) old man yells at tree, and other things
who: the Doctor and YOUUUU
what: find the Doc in various locales, up to the usual nonsense. a thing explodes.
when: 19-24
where: the university; a rooftop; the jungle
warnings: nada, most likely
the university, afternoon.
[ for the most part, since starting his job here, the doctor's managed to pass himself off more or less as a normal college professor, teaching a normal class about time travel (and occasionally exobiology and space farming and thermodynamics and--), spending his evenings grading normal papers. normally. it works out - he's a skilled orator and he honestly enjoys this work (specifically, the part where he gets to listen to himself talk passionately for hours on end in front of a captive audience), and is more or less content to devote a chunk of his work week to doing so. besides, he actually needs a little money right now, appalling as that notion is. so he has taken a certain amount of care not to make waves yet. by, say, blowing anything up.
except for this one afternoon, when he accidentally blows something up.
it starts as a whizz, a bang, and a deafening POP! followed by a cloud of white smoke billowing out of his open office door. from inside, you can hear the hssss of a fire extinguisher, as the doctor, his hair comically swept back, puts out a small fire from an inscrutable piece of machinery laying atop his desk. the thing looks like it was cobbled together out of garbage. which it was.
work in progress!
several students' papers may be beyond repair, unfortunately, though. ]
some rooftop somewhere, night.
[ the following night, if you happen to be hanging out on a rooftop, for whatever reason - brooding or something, i don't know - you may find this old fellow with his handmade machine. this time in working order.
although what 'working order' actually means in this case is anyone's guess. the device looks like the unholy amalgamation of a tape deck, an umbrella, a carburetor, three whisks, and a panasonic orbitel television, among other things. little bits of it spin. it softly boops every minute or so. it's playing what appears to be five games of pong layered atop each other at once on its screen. nobody is winning.
the doctor's pacing around in front of it, his thinking face on. every now and then he stops to stare at his creation, tapping his fingers to his arms. whatever information it is displaying doesn't appear to be what he's looking for. it's been going on for a while. ]
the jungle, whenever.
[ because if a place is clearly dangerous, walled off and under watchful guard, of course he's going to head straight out into it. he's not too far from the inhabited city, at least, this time. but he's clearly unarmed and unarmored, and at the moment - yelling at a tree.
or rather, scolding a thing that's in the tree. some sort of cat-like being, from the looks of it, with something shiny and silvery held tightly in its jaws. the doctor clearly wants this thing back, but alas, isn't really a climbing-trees type. just gonna have to resort to his skill with negotiation. ]
Listen to me - don't eat that! You cannot eat that! You can't even use it - you haven't got thumbs! And even if you had, a little brain like yours--
[ the cat thing chomps down harder on it, glaring. ]
--Look, I've got a fish sandwich! Let's trade! Honestly...
etc.
[ if you've got something else in mind, go for it! or pm me to plot things out. ]
what: find the Doc in various locales, up to the usual nonsense. a thing explodes.
when: 19-24
where: the university; a rooftop; the jungle
warnings: nada, most likely
the university, afternoon.
[ for the most part, since starting his job here, the doctor's managed to pass himself off more or less as a normal college professor, teaching a normal class about time travel (and occasionally exobiology and space farming and thermodynamics and--), spending his evenings grading normal papers. normally. it works out - he's a skilled orator and he honestly enjoys this work (specifically, the part where he gets to listen to himself talk passionately for hours on end in front of a captive audience), and is more or less content to devote a chunk of his work week to doing so. besides, he actually needs a little money right now, appalling as that notion is. so he has taken a certain amount of care not to make waves yet. by, say, blowing anything up.
except for this one afternoon, when he accidentally blows something up.
it starts as a whizz, a bang, and a deafening POP! followed by a cloud of white smoke billowing out of his open office door. from inside, you can hear the hssss of a fire extinguisher, as the doctor, his hair comically swept back, puts out a small fire from an inscrutable piece of machinery laying atop his desk. the thing looks like it was cobbled together out of garbage. which it was.
work in progress!
several students' papers may be beyond repair, unfortunately, though. ]
some rooftop somewhere, night.
[ the following night, if you happen to be hanging out on a rooftop, for whatever reason - brooding or something, i don't know - you may find this old fellow with his handmade machine. this time in working order.
although what 'working order' actually means in this case is anyone's guess. the device looks like the unholy amalgamation of a tape deck, an umbrella, a carburetor, three whisks, and a panasonic orbitel television, among other things. little bits of it spin. it softly boops every minute or so. it's playing what appears to be five games of pong layered atop each other at once on its screen. nobody is winning.
the doctor's pacing around in front of it, his thinking face on. every now and then he stops to stare at his creation, tapping his fingers to his arms. whatever information it is displaying doesn't appear to be what he's looking for. it's been going on for a while. ]
the jungle, whenever.
[ because if a place is clearly dangerous, walled off and under watchful guard, of course he's going to head straight out into it. he's not too far from the inhabited city, at least, this time. but he's clearly unarmed and unarmored, and at the moment - yelling at a tree.
or rather, scolding a thing that's in the tree. some sort of cat-like being, from the looks of it, with something shiny and silvery held tightly in its jaws. the doctor clearly wants this thing back, but alas, isn't really a climbing-trees type. just gonna have to resort to his skill with negotiation. ]
Listen to me - don't eat that! You cannot eat that! You can't even use it - you haven't got thumbs! And even if you had, a little brain like yours--
[ the cat thing chomps down harder on it, glaring. ]
--Look, I've got a fish sandwich! Let's trade! Honestly...
etc.
[ if you've got something else in mind, go for it! or pm me to plot things out. ]
no subject
For... founding Rome...?
[ It's all he's got. Do you found places on hills? ]
no subject
Ohhhh, that's an idea.
no subject
[ WHAT IS THIS! Being teased by authority??? help ]
no subject
Yes, I know - now you can say it was your idea. And then you can thank me later. [ a deep nod. ] You're welcome.
no subject
I'm sorry... I still don't get it. How did you know about my brother?
no subject
hmmhmmHMM... ]
Good question.
I know a lot of things. Do a lot of reading.
no subject
[ Aside from balancing ledgers, perhaps, and even then Romulus doesn't know that for a fact. He's got very little idea what goes into the actual bookkeeping for a merchant's estate.
Even then, he's a very curious sort. He'll follow what trains of logic he can until he's forced off the tracks if possible. ]
no subject
Oh, people write about everything.
Especially - ahem - in the future.
no subject
[ Gee, Romulus. Good on you for finally figuring that this might be the case, at least... ]
no subject
[ glances... at the HIGHLY TECHNOLOGICALLY ADVANCED (if shitty) machine sitting on his desk. ]
In a manner of speaking. Haven't you noticed...?
[ that practically everyone here is from 'the future'? ]
no subject
[ C'mon, Doc, you can't expect him to think "future" instead of just "completely and entirely out of his own scope," can you??? ]
no subject
Yes, currently.
But a rather unusually high percentage of the people here are from your planet. Different points in time.
no subject
Well, that doesn't make sense.
no subject
Most of the people I've met here are from about two thousand years after your time. Hardly anything, in the grand scheme.
And others are from other planets entirely.
no subject
Then... all of this is really possible? Even where I'm from?