There are many Universes which consist of planets inhabited by all kinds of races. But despite the different kinds of their origins, all races have one common thing - children. And their habits. Children of all planets can find a reason to tease their mates, either appearance or habits. But in this case the reason was different.
Vislor Turlough went downstairs to the basement and stopped in front of the door, from behind which unmistakeable sounds of screws being fixed and metal being polished were heard. He's here, he thought. Where else can he be?.. You should talk to him, Turlough told himself and pushed the door.
The ginger-haired kid sitting on a chair with a broken handle in the depth of the messy basement room didn't even raise his head to see who was disturbing him.
"You're sulking again. At least I wasn't the reason for you to do it", Turlough called out to him. That should be called imprinting - the boy, whose hands and mind were occupied with mending some kind of a mini engine, was Turlough's nearly proper little copy. The same flaming red hair in a short-cut, the same sharp nose and pointy chin, and the same figure - almost everything was there to be. The only differences were the height and eye color - Turlough had blue, while the boy had clearly green.
"Don't make me come out to them", the boy muttered, now aimlessly twirling the result of his work in his hands.
"Why?"
"They called me an Earthling because I..."
"What did you do?"
"...I showed them this". The boy pointed at a pair of Earth-style rollerblades in the corner. "It's so great! But they all laughed at me and called me a retarded Earthling".
Turlough sighed. Yes, he used to mock Earthlings (and he still kept tracks of such attitude to them in his manners, because... what's a race which can't even communicate with humanoids from other planets? No way, they even think it's odd and scary!), but now he knew that not all of them were too retarded. Some of them could accept the idea of interspacial travelling. And that was giving hope.
"Listen up, Kyon Vislor Turlough, you know that hiding is not an answer. Sooner or later you will have to come out, unless you're going to spend your whole life here".
This was gospel truth: in his normal state Kyon Turlough was a hyperactive ball of energy whose power came out in all kinds of sport activities, not only traditional like rope-running, but also in ones widespread on other planets. The roller-blades had been hand-made from all kinds of remains - this was another way for Kyon to let his energy out, apart from physical exercises, though not as enjoyable for him.
"Where did you find out about the roller-blades?" Turlough asked, sitting down next to his son.
"You told me", Kyon replied innocently. "Forgot? One of your stories about the Doctor, and Tegan, and Nyssa, and all of them..."
"You walking recorder", Turlough chuckled. "And you decided..."
"I thought that could be fun", Kyon shrugged.
The roller-blades were already hopelessly broken, but their construction was doubtlessly right from the physical point of view. Nice boy, Turlough thought. So young and yet inventive.
"And what are you making now?"
"Spaceboard. Like Earthly skateboard, but spacier, and I thought it could fly as well", Kyon replied. "I was going to drop a bit of Willigan fruit at the heads of mockers!"
"I'm glad you're not going to sit here forever".
Kyon put the little engine aside and gazed at his father from the bottom:
"Daddy, will I ever meet the Doctor?"
"What do you think?"
"I think I can. Because he's everywhere. And..." Kyon thought for a while. "And I think he could come and visit you, and then I'd see him..."
Children. Always believing in wonders, Turlough thought. But on the other hand, wonders could happen as well, some people just didn't want to noticed them.