One-two-three-four, tap-tap-tap-tap, the drums, the noise, the pounding in his head. One-two-three-four, coming closer, ever nearer, calling, what could he do? It hadn't always been like this, had it? He could hear himself think once, couldn't he? It seemed so long ago, but only days had past...
It had been nighttime, and the ceremonies had begun. To look into the time vortex, a terrifying prospect for most, but he, the Master, had felt invigorated. So much power...
It was his turn, and he was guided forward to stand before the rift. His eyes widened. It was chaos! There was no order or meaning to- wait- he gasped- there! In the eddies and swirls of the time stream, a rhythm! A drumming! The drums, they had always been there, why hadn't he heard them till now?
One-two-three four, the Master swung his legs. He heard that rhythm constantly now. Tap-tap-tap-tap, went the pattern of the drums on the seat in front of him. Where was he again? Oh yes, class, history class. He glanced up to the view-screen at the front of the class where their instructor was writing something. One-two-three-four- there! The drums where in the rhythm of the teacher's hand as it formed words! He laughed aloud. The drumming really was everywhere. Why couldn't anyone else hear it?
The class was staring, the Master hunched over his desk, ignoring them, still snickering to himself. Let them think what they want now, they'd see soon enough. He would show them.
One-two-three-four, he swung his shoes harder, causing the rhythm, his rhythm, to sound itself louder on the desk in front of him. His classmate was complaining to him in whispers, and he turned his head to look up at his messy-haired friend.
"Doctor, can't you hear them?" No, no of course he didn't. They had talked about it before. No matter. The Master would show them, he would make them hear.
He would show them all.
