Doctor Who. A famous television show, right? Some really creative people, some amazing actors, and some fantastic special effects. That's all it is, though, isn't it?
Think again.
My name is Rebecca Jones, and this is my story.
"Did you hear that?" I ask, throwing the ball to Amy. It hits her glove with a satisfying thwack.
"Hear what?" she replies.
I shrug. "I just – never mind."
A phone beeps, and Amy runs over after a moment. "Hey, sorry, my mom wants me home for dinner. I guess we're going out somewhere or something." She grabs her bag from the base of the tree and takes two steps away, then stops. "Oh, I forgot! Can you give this back to Sara? I keep forgetting to get it back to her," she explains, handing me a small box.
"Yeah, sure," I answer. "Bye, then. See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, bye!" Amy runs off toward the grove of trees hiding a shortcut to her house.
I turn the box over in my hands. "Well, then, what is it this time?" I pull the lid off the shoebox, revealing several Doctor Who DVDs. I roll my eyes. Why are they such Whovians? I mean, they only mention the show in every other conversation – if I'm lucky – and they spend hours arguing over whether Ten or Eleven is better, and then they go and start crying about some Rose girl! How did I get stuck with such nerds? "Ah, well," I sigh, closing the box and tucking it in my bag. I'll be seeing Sara this evening at the library for our research paper; I figure I can get it back to her then.
As I walk down the street back home, I hear the strange noise again – closer, this time. "What is it?" I exclaim, turning around and looking for something – anything – out of place. Nothing. I try to forget about it and keep walking, but I keep hearing the stupid noise! Finally, when I reach the corner next to the bakery, I hear it again, and it just sounds so close! I turn around again, carefully searching every corner. I catch a glimpse of a flashing light in an alley, behind the bakery.
"No," I tell myself. "Don't do it. Don't." But, curiosity gets the best of me, and I start walking towards the alley. It really shouldn't be creepy at all – it's four in the afternoon, and there's not a cloud in the sky – and I can't help but wonder…
Two more steps and I'm there. It definitely shouldn't be creepy, not at all – so why am I so hesitant to take those two steps? "Okay. One, two… Three." I step into the alley and I laugh.
"Whose idea of a joke was this, then?" I call. "Sara? Amy?" For there, in front of me, sits a blue box labeled "Police Public Call Box". I may not watch the show, but I have heard enough conversations to know that this is part of it. "Hello? Anyone? I get the joke, you can come out now."
And David Tennant steps out of the box. "Oh, hello!" Thud.
I wake up rubbing my head. "What? I – where – oh! Who are you?" I'm sitting in a large room, on the stairs of a raised platform, and in the middle of this platform is a great big console. And David Tennant is standing in front of me, wearing a dark shirt and a blue suit – and red sneakers. "Er – what happened?"
He starts laughing to himself. "I've gotten a lot of reactions, but never has anyone fainted when they saw me. Never! Well, suppose there's a first for everything." He stops for a moment, pulls me to my feet. "You'll be fine, though. No major damage. I'm the Doctor, by the way."
I laugh. I walk around the room and laugh.
"What?" he asks. "What's so funny?"
I have to sit down again in order to stop laughing. "Right, then. So where are the cameras? How much are they paying you, Mr. Tennant?"
"What?"
"You're filming. That must be it. You are filming for the next episode and you're looking for some American's honest reactions to "The Doctor"," I say, using my fingers for air quotes. "Well, here's mine. HA! Very funny. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be off. I step towards a door and fling it open, fully intending to walk back home.
But I don't.
In front of me, there is nothing. Around me, there are stars. Lots and lots of stars. And asteroids. And Earth is so far away below us.
"Right, then. What's this? Special effects?" I ask, not taking a step back. "So if I do this," I say, stepping one foot off the floor and sticking it out into empty space, "I don't fall at all." I'm about to actually step off when he grabs me.
"Yeah, I really wouldn't do that if I were you." He pulls me back in and closes the door. "Now, what were you saying about all the cameras? And who is David Tennant?"
"You're David Tennant, stupid," I say, poking him in the chest. "And this," I add, gesturing all around us, "is a television set."
Tennant just gives me this really blank look, like, "What are you talking about?"
"You and I," I answer, pointing to help him out, "are standing on a constructed set for a science-fiction TV show called Doctor Who. Okay?"
"Oh, you made a show about me! Well, I must say, I am flattered," he says, straightening his suit, "but we haven't got time for flattery."
I throw my hands in the air. "Can I go home now?"
He straightens up from bending over the console in the center of the room. "I'm sorry, I really am, but you can't go home."
"Why not?"
He lets out a little laugh again. "Well, you see… I showed up in that alley because there was a, um – well, a shape-changing, invisible alien there."
"Right. So what has that got to do with me?"
Another laugh. "Can we start over? I'm the Doctor. I am a nine hundred year old Time Lord from Gallifrey. I am flattered that you have created a show about me, but I really don't have time for flattery because killer aliens are after me. And you are?"
"Rebecca Jones. Now can you please call your producer or director or someone and tell them I AM GOING HOME NOW!"
He holds his hand up in surrender. "Alright, alright. Where am I headed?"
"The same place you were before."
"Right. Okay." He starts messing with levers and buttons on his little console. I guess it's the controls or something? "Oh, no. No, no, no! Come on, not now!"
"What?" I ask, not even looking up.
He groans. "She's stuck in orbit – we're orbiting your moon."
"Blue lever."
"Oh, of course, thanks." A brief pause. "Wait – what?"
"What?" I look up at him.
He looks from me to the console and back again. "How did you – that's impossible!"
"What – impossible that I should know how to fly a TARDIS?" Wait – what's a TARDIS? How do I know how to fly it?
"And now you're using an accent. Right. I'm getting you home."
This time, I put my hands up in surrender. "Alright, take me home. And I'm not using an accent!"
"Yes, you are." He starts to push buttons and pull levers again.
I walk up to the console. "No, I'm not." I pull a lever, twist a knob.
"Yes, you – what are you doing!" he exclaims.
"I'm flying a TARDIS. Oh, it's been far too long!" Suddenly, all these memories are rushing back, flooding my head. A sea of red grass covering my home planet. Gallifrey – such a beautiful name for a beautiful place. Learning how to fly a TARDIS with my parents eight hundred years ago, looking into all of time and space, all that is and was and will be...
I collapse onto a chair. "Doctor?"
He stops everything – we're still drifting through space – and sits next to me. "What is it? What's happening?"
"I – I – oh!" I stand up, throwing my arms out. Energy rushes up out of me, flying through my hands and my head. The Doctor just sits there, stunned.
"I – Rebecca – what? What are you doing?"
Everything suddenly stops. "Doctor – I've regenerated."
