Your Companion Will Never Threaten to Stab You and, In Fact, Cannot Speak
The Doctor strolled listlessly through a vast wheat field, staying, however, always within a hundred feet of the TARDIS. It was a huge field, so expansive that if he strained his eyes, he could just barely see the thick forests that surrounded it. The sun was not yet rising over the horizon, but the film of pink blearing out the stars in an otherwise blackish-purple void of night offered evidence of the coming morning.
It'd been a long time since the Doctor had visited a wheat field, mostly because they made him feel so lonesome, and he hated feeling lonesome. But he'd been drawn to one today, and couldn't say he came to regret it as he strolled, pensive, through the golden grass. The TARDIS sat, and waited, and watched, and wondered. The Doctor looked up at the sky, part of it painted pink, the other parts brilliant shades of blues and purples and blacks. A slight breeze ran through his hair.
"Why'd I come here?" he wondered aloud. He took a couple steps towards his TARDIS, as if she knew why he was there. "Don't you think I'd have a reason to come to a place like this? After all," he said, cracking a little smile and walking over to the TARDIS to run his hand along her side. "You'd think that danger attracts me, the way I follow it around all the time."
As the wheat field came ablaze with light, the Doctor watched the sunrise and felt its warmth, drinking in the life. He closed his eyes, feeling the rhythm of everything, the vital pulse of the sun. He stayed there, too, breathing in, and breathing out, until there was just a hair's distance between the horizon and the soft, bright morning sun. He slowly opened his eyes.
Turning on his heel, he lay a tentative hand on the door of the TARDIS, but slowly took it away. He turned, his eyebrows furrowing. Something, in the corner of his eye. Something…
He squinted, and saw, through the shimmering golden strands of blazing light, what appeared to be a large black object. And…no, that couldn't be right…was someone…singing?
With a reassuring pat on the side of the TARDIS, the Doctor jogged towards the object, slowing down cautiously once he was close enough to make an educated guess as to what it might be. The singing had stopped. Maybe he'd just imagined it. He was old enough to imagine lots of things.
A box. A cube, rather, with defined corners and a bulging plate on each of its six faces. It was dirty, maybe burned. The Doctor couldn't tell what the original design or words on the cube was supposed to be, only that it was mostly gray and white, with some light pink on the plates. It seemed completely harmless, even friendly. Friendly? What? Why'd he think that? 'Friendly' wasn't a descriptive word the Doctor would usually use to describe boxes. 'Sexy,' maybe.
The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the cube. There didn't seem to be anything abnormal about it. It was an inanimate cube, nonliving, non-wood. And yet, the Doctor couldn't help but feel like it was…well.
But why was it here? What had caused it so much damage? Where had it come from? Questions raced through the Doctor's mind at the speed of sound, none of them answered. What was it made of? It looked like it was manufactured, but who manufactured it? Was it some kind of storage device? If it was a weapon, what was it used for? Alien? Human? Something different entirely?
The Doctor found himself kneeling, his hands hovering over the cube's smooth, but blackened surface. "Who could've done this to you?" he asked absently as he gathered the courage to touch the surface of the box. "Why?" he muttered to himself, and picked the cube up. It had a surprising amount of weight to it – it wasn't heavy, but it certainly wasn't as light as it looked. What could it possibly be for? What was inside it?
The Doctor stood up and carried the cube back to the TARDIS. It took him both arms to carry it; it was certainly sizeable. He backed into the TARDIS, looking at the cube curiously the entire time. He wasn't one to bring random things into his time machine. Had he done it all nine hundred odd years of his life, he'd be drowning in useless knickknacks that he couldn't get rid of anyway due to sentiment. But he felt something strange about the cube, not sinister but…it felt like the cube was somehow…organic, biological, alive. Ridiculous as it sounded, it felt like the cube was a person, with him, in the TARDIS. He set it down on the grated floor by the control panel, still looking at it curiously.
"Well, let's get you cleaned up," said the Doctor, mostly to himself, as went to grab one of those human Magic Erasers that worked so well for cleaning. Once he came back, he knelt alongside the cube and a bucket of water and scrubbed it, cleaning off the dirt and what appeared to be scorch marks.
"Now, how'd this happen? Fratricide?" The Doctor cocked his head slightly when he said this, since he didn't exactly know why he'd brought up fratricide, or what it had to do with anything. He moved from the white corners of the box to the plated center of one of the faces, curious to find out what was so pink. He delicately scrubbed at the blackened surface until the marks went away, revealing a sweet, pink heart.
"Hearts?" muttered the Doctor to himself. Well, there was almost no chance that the cube was some kind of weapon. He cleaned off the rest of the cube, slowly but surely revealing the rest of the hearts.
"You'd think two would be a lot," the Doctor said to the cube, touching his own chest and feeling the drumbeats, "But you've got six. I wonder how you cope." He smiled, and for a second, he could swear the cube had smiled back. Which was ridiculous, because the cube didn't have a face. And it was also inanimate. There was that. Inanimateness. Inanimacy? No, inanimacy wasn't a word. It was definitely 'inanimateness.' The Doctor shook his head, as if to disperse the constantly-running, quick thoughts running through his brain at all times.
"Now, who left you all alone?" the Doctor asked, moving the bucket of water aside with a long leg and sitting next to the cube, leaning an arm on it. "Who did this to you and then left you? Where'd you come from?" the Doctor muttered questions to himself, through his teeth, breathing softly. It suddenly occurred to him that it might not have been the best idea to take the cube away from where he'd found it, but it had seemed more compelling than anything at the moment. "I know what that's like. I know what it's like to be all alone. Maybe more than you know. But I don't know how old you are, Cubey."
The cube seemed to listen.
"I've been alone a long time. An unfair long time, if you ask me." The Doctor sighed and ran a hand along one of the sides of the cube, as if trying to figure out what it was made of. "But you are curious. D'you know that? I've never seen anything like you. A cube like you. I've met lots of cubes. Five of them fancied me. Not that you can fancy anything. You're…uh, well. You're not really alive, are you?"
The cube sat.
"I'm sorry. Perhaps that was a little…judgmental? Well, I won't do it again. You're alive to me." The Doctor shifted and rested both arms on top of the cube, and his head on his arms. He spoke, mumbling through his teeth. "Well, then, what's your story, Cubey? What's in a wheat field that doesn't want you?"
The Doctor couldn't tell if he'd just imagined the shrug that came from the cube.
"Because I'll tell you what – something interesting as you needs a proper audience. Who'd want to be rid of you? Who'd burn the hearts off you?"
Well, the Doctor imagined the cube would say.
"If it makes you sad, I'm sorry. I'm not used to not knowing. Well – that isn't exactly true. I'm very used to not knowing. I'm just not used to not knowing and then not ever finding out."
I know the feeling, came the cube's genderless response in the Doctor's mind.
"Oh, yeah?"
Yeah. I was in love with someone. And I don't know what happened to him.
"I…" said the Doctor. "I'm so sorry."
But it's all right, Cubey responded. He can handle himself. I've seen it.
"I'm sure you're right," said the Doctor. Was this person the one who'd left the cube out all alone, in the middle of a wheat field?
I don't know. Maybe someday I'll make it back down there. And I can see him again. I think he loved me too.
"I know he would," the Doctor replied consolingly. "What's not to love? Wait—did you say 'down there?' Down where?"
…Nowhere.
The Doctor took his arms off the cube and sat back, looking at the cube incredulously. "Oh, yes. You said 'down there.' Where d'you mean?"
I'm not telling you.
The Doctor felt his pulses quicken at the thought of a possible adventure. "But maybe we can find him, you and I, together!"
I'm not leading you down there. It's bad enough he went back.
"But what's so bad about this place?"
Everything.
"Specifically, what? Perhaps we can avoid danger and find him all the same." The Doctor was a sucker for a good mystery, and if this cube wasn't one, then he wasn't sure what was. Moreover, if there was someone in danger, the Doctor needed to know how he could save them. It was what he did, after all. Be a Doctor.
Her. She's the worst part about – that place.
The Doctor cocked his head curiously. "Who's 'her'?"
The reason he changed. The reason he went…um…
"Crazy?" the Doctor offered.
The reason for…his…condition.
"What condition?"
He's a bit of a…paranoid schizophrenic.
The Doctor took in a sharp breath. Paranoid schizophrenia was terrifying. "What could, uh, she have done to make him develop schizophrenia?"
You'd be surprised what she can do. That's why I'm not leading you down there. Even if we can find him. Because he has experience dealing with the deadliest psychopath in existence. And you don't.
The Doctor couldn't help but be offended. "Excuse me, Cubey," he began indignantly, "But do you know how many evil beings I've faced in this universe, and lived? Do you know how many Daleks I've met face-to-face and beaten with words alone? Do you know how I defeated the Weeping Angels? It was a difficult problem to solve!"
I don't know what any of those things are, the cube said, sounding a little weary. But I believe you.
"Oh," said the Doctor. He wasn't used to people believing him, either."Well. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…uh…I'm sorry."
It's just that I don't want you to go down there and get hurt after what she did to him. And my only friend.
The Doctor felt his hearts sink. "Your only friend?"
I…don't really, um…
"…Right, well," the Doctor said, anxious to change the subject. He didn't want to hurt Cubey's feelings. "I've lost friends, too. Lots of them, more than you can count. I don't know how they're doing." The Doctor sighed sadly, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked absently at the walls of the TARDIS. "None of them. I don't know where they are, or whether I can ever see them again."
That's awful, said Cubey. I'm sorry. But maybe you can still go find them, um…uh…
"Sorry?"
Well, it's just that…I don't really know your name.
A smile. "It's the Doctor."
The Doctor?
"Yep, that's me. The Doctor. Hello!"
That's…um…a nice name?
The Doctor narrowed his eyes at the cute little cube. "Are you—was that a question?"
No?
"You don't like it?"
I…no, I do. I—I like everything.
"Why don't you like it?"
I do like it. It sounds cool. I just…I just don't think that's your real name.
The Doctor shook his head softly. "My real name doesn't matter. What matters is what you make of it. I call myself the Doctor because that's what I do. I help people."
Have you ever been to medical school?
"I'm not that kind of Doctor."
Well, what name do they put on your files?
"My fi—sorry, my what?"
Your files, you know. The pieces of paper where they document your results and decide whether or not you're compatible with Science?"
"Compatible wi—what are you talking about?"
You don't have that?
The Doctor cocked his head at the cube, with wide, confused eyes. "Do I have files about me and my compatibility with the study of science?"
Don't you?
"Of course not! Do you?"
Do I have files about me and my compatibility with the study of Science?
"Do you?"
Is…is that a joke?
It was a moment before the Doctor could answer, since he was too busy thinking. "Y'know, I'm not quite sure anymore."
Today was the second time I'd ever been in the sun. I spent the majority of my…"life"…in the facility, so I guess I'm not really used to the world.
"Oh, Cubey. You and I both," sighed the Doctor, leaning back on the controls of the TARDIS. "We are so strange."
The cube seemed to sigh, too. Then, after a moment: Are you crazy?
"I don't know. I don't think so. Maybe a little. I'm bound to be."
I think I can only talk to crazy people, the cube said, hints of deep melancholy in its voice. Doug used to take those pills to stop the craziness, and then he couldn't hear me anymore.
The Doctor pondered. "Well, I'm about as sane as I've ever been. See? I'm proof that you can talk to whoever you want."
Sometimes I think she could hear me, too. My friend. I'd sing and she'd look at me, like she was happy to see me. I don't know what the common factor is, between you three. It's like we have all the products, but we don't have reactants.
The Doctor smiled at the chemistry terms the cube used, but it faded just as quickly when he realized what the common factor might be. "Maybe we're all…just lonesome," said the Doctor, chewing on the inside of his cheek, deep in thought. "Cubey, you and I could go. Together, in my box, traveling. We could save Doug. We could all go, together, and stop being lonesome. You, and Doug, and me."
…Maybe I should have told you this before. I need to stay.
The Doctor swallowed the disappointment building in his throat. "Why? This is a time-traveling machine, you know. Have I mentioned that? Time-and-space-traveling. What's here that isn't anywhere else in the universe?"
…She is. I need to stay because she'll come back for me.
"Your friend?"
Yes. I know you don't understand, but I... The cube faltered, like it was thinking of what it could say, which would not have been very extraordinary if it wasn't an inanimate, nonliving box.
The Doctor looked down at the grated floor of the TARDIS, at the wires and machinery and technology that could let him go anywhere, at any time. "I do understand. Believe me."
Well, said the cube, though a little more quietly, a little more soft. Thank you, Doctor. For everything.
"You're welcome, Cubey," said the Doctor as he stood up, picked up the cube and walked it back out of the TARDIS. Outside, the blue sky, stuck with cotton clouds, drifted lazily overhead. The golden wheat whistled in the soft, warm breeze. It felt like only minutes the Doctor had been in the TARDIS, speaking with Cubey, this inanimate object that was alive, this fake voice that could mean something. The Doctor walked over to the spot where he thought he'd found the cube at first, and set it down carefully, so the heart on top was right-side up when he looked at it.
The Doctor couldn't think of last words to say to the cube, so he just nodded farewell, turned on his heel, and began to walk away, when he was interrupted by the cube's voice.
Doctor?
The Doctor turned, taking a deep breath. He knew this part. He hated this part. It was the sad goodbye he dreaded, but the one that always came. "Yeah, Cubey."
Listen, the cube said, hints of both panic and defeat in its voice. It was a strange combination. Coming from something that could appear so emotionless, it was even stranger. Listen, she's not ever gonna go back down there. And I can't...you know, I can't help Doug when I'm not near him, so…so, listen, I'll tell you the name of the facility, if you ever want to save him, but you can't—oh.
"Oh?" inquired the Doctor. "'Oh,' what? What's—"
And then the Doctor turned around.
He locked eyes with a tall, chestnut-skinned woman. She had dark hair and bright, revitalizing blue eyes, wide with wonder and confusion. She wore a white tank top, with a baggy orange jumpsuit, the arms tied around the waist. She was wearing peculiar shoes, too. Like nothing the Doctor had ever seen. They looked like they could protect anyone from a long-distance fall. And the words on the shoes matched the words on her shirt.
It's her. It's her!
"Um," said the Doctor. "Hello."
The woman said nothing, but looked behind the Doctor at Cubey, her beautiful eyes getting wider, her soft pink mouth parting slightly. Without warning, the woman ran past the Doctor, knelt, and embraced the cube, like she hadn't seen it in years.
"I looked after your cube for you," said the Doctor, trying to smile and appear friendly to the mysterious woman. He turned his head to get a better look at her shirt. A circular, black logo encased the first letter of the words APERTURE LABORATORIES.
Aperture? Aperture, Aperture, Aperture, Aperture. Where had the Doctor heard that name before? Aperture Laboratories. Hm.
After a while, the woman stood up again, wiping her eyes.
"And…what's your name?"
She's not gonna talk to you, Doctor.
A high-pitched, confused: "She's not? Why not?"
She just…doesn't talk.
"Can't she?"
She can, but she doesn't.
"Why not?"
I don't know, she just doesn't.
"Is it because of her?"
Partly, but Wheatl—look, she just doesn't talk. She doesn't give anyone the satisfaction.
Throughout the entire exchange, the woman had been looking confusedly between the Doctor and the cube, raising attitude-strewn eyebrows at the newcomer.
"Well, don't you know her name, Cubey?"
It's Chell.
"Chell, what?"
At the mention of her name, the woman's mouth fell agape and stared even more incredulously at the Doctor and the cube.
Just Chell.
"Well, then, 'Just Chell,'" said the Doctor, turning now to the woman. Chell took a slight step back now that the Doctor was speaking to her. "You're clever, aren't you? I mean, not just regular clever, but really, really clever, like you've been life-and-death and you've come out laughing, like you solved puzzles for a living?"
Chell gave him a stoic expression.
The Doctor squinted his eyes, as if to see her better. "I can tell just by looking at you. You're not exactly normal, are you?"
Chell raised her eyebrows.
"But you are lonely, aren't you?" At this point, the Doctor slowed down his analyzing. "So lonely, all you have is a box."
Oh, like you're one to talk.
"Sorry, Cubey. But, you know, Chell, I'm lonely, too. I've lost every friend I've ever had." The Doctor paused, and looked back at his own, blue box, standing like a beacon in the golden ocean of wheat. "You're lonely," he said softly, slowly turning back to a somber Chell, "I know what that's like."
Doctor—
The Doctor's voice turned soft. "You could come with me, 'Just Chell.' You and I, we could go together. Never see Aperture again."
At the name, Chell's lip trembled, but her brow hardened.
Doctor, what are you saying?
"I'm saying," the Doctor said. "I'm saying…I'm saying, come with me. Both of you."
Chell shook her head slowly, shifted a little closer to the cube.
Doctor, I'm sorry. I don't think Chell will come with you.
The Doctor drew in a sharp breath. "Oh," he said, dejectedly. He tried to perk up, to be his usual self. "Oh. Well, that's fine! That's fine. I'm the Doctor. Got loads of friends. I'll go visit them. You two can…handle…yourselves…" the Doctor faltered as he looked at Chell and her cube, such an unlikely combination that seemed to fit together just right, like puzzle pieces. "The Doctor," he continued. "Just me, and my box, that travels through time and space."
Chell looked up at the last word, her mouth dropping open.
Oh, boy.
"Yeah, didn't I mention? It's a time machine. It can travel. Through time. And space. Sorry. Sometimes it's just so obvious that I…" the Doctor stopped talking when he realized Chell was looking at him like she couldn't believe it.
"Time machines exist," the Doctor said. "I know it's a bit of a shock."
You said "space." You really should not have said "space."
"What, space? What's the matter with space?"
Chell seemed deep in thought, biting on the inside of her cheek.
"Something in space you wanna see?" the Doctor asked, perking up a little.
More than you even know, the cube said.
And, slowly, Chell nodded.
"You'll…you'll come with me?"
Another nod.
The Doctor immediately beamed. "Brilliant!" he said. He turned and jogged towards the TARDIS. Chell quickly picked up the cube and followed suit. The Doctor wondered in the back of his mind how she could run wearing those shoes. It seemed effortless to her. "Oh, this is brilliant! Chell, and the Doctor, and Cubey, all together, seeing the universe! Finding things in space! Brilliant!" He pushed open the door to the TARDIS.
Chell bounded into the TARDIS after him, and stopped dead to stare at the TARDIS' seemingly-impossible interior.
Yeah, said the cube. I know, Chell. It's bigger on the inside.
The Doctor, merry as could be, jumped around the control panel, starting up the TARDIS, turning ten keys at once. "Chell, Cubey, and the Doctor. My two companions. You're like…my Companion Cube."
A chuckle from the cube.
"What?"
Oh, it's nothing.
Chell couldn't help but smile, watching the Doctor bouncing around all over the place. It was the first time she'd smiled in a long time.
"Now, Chell," the Doctor said, beaming at her. Finally, new companions. Someone to befriend, to protect. "You clever, clever lady. You dangerous, mute lunatic. What exactly is it you're looking for in space?"