Chapter 1 – In Which the World is Empty
Earth. 1971.
His heart was pounding. His fingers trembling.
Squi-squi-whoosh! The otherworldly beast was right behind him.
He pressed the button. He turned as the projector flicked on.
Black on yellow.
The black beast turned to look. It roared and backed away.
The first projector was joined by a second. From this too, the beast shrank.
The beast looked straight at him. It was surrounded by a strange yellow light. The whole place was.
The beast roared and writhed. It evaporated, but the light remained and burned everything it touched.
The man covered his eyes, but he could still see it through his eyelids. "Not again."
He could feel memories slipping. "I have a wife, Linda, and a daughter. They're waiting for me. I have a wife, Linda, and a daughter. They're waiting for me. I have a wife- I have a wife. She's got to have a name."
Time rewound.
The TARDIS knew it before the Doctor did.
The Doctor slammed a fist on the metal console. "It's not fair! Donna Noble wanted to come. I could tell! But no, she was scared of me."
All the excess energy left his shoulders. He choked. "That's the problem with me, isn't it? Either I go too far or my friends leave me anyway. I'm a murderer and a parasite to the universe. Why should I even bother?"
The TARDIS rotor hummed in response, and the lights dimmed slightly. It bathed the room in a disgusted blue-green. Great, even the Old Girl saw him that way.
He covered his eyes and took a deep breath. He set his free hand on a big round button. "You know what I need? A vacation. An actual vacation. Think you can manage that?"
He pushed the button and the TARDIS vworped. Peeking through his fingers at their destination, he grimaced. He kicked the console. "Oh, come on! I ask for a vacation, so you steer us into a time loop and give me a warning message? It's just a time loop. You can break out!"
At another station, a red light blinked. The Doctor walked around to check on it. As he looked at the readings, an image formed in his mind's eye:
Boom! An explosion large enough to take out decades of a star system.
He frowned. "Time looping for an entire decade? That can't be naturally-occurring. When and where are we anyway?"
Yet again, he moved to another station to check. He looked through a camera this time, and there was a little blue-and-green planet, third from its star. "1970s."
He turned his back and leaned on the panel. He looked up at the domed coral-and-bronze ceiling. "Right. I shouldn't get involved. I just don't want to be directly responsible for the explosion by leaving. I'll dissipate the energy, and then you are taking me on a proper vacation."
One more breath and he stood, straightened his suit coat, and walked out the TARDIS door.
He stepped out into a monochrome environment – all black or dull yellow, as though sketched on old paper. He was indoors, in a room little bigger than his TARDIS. To his right was a hammock with a poster above it:
BENDY IN "SHEEP SONGS" WITH BORIS THE WOLF!
It depicted a cartoon wolf playing a clarinet for some sheep.
In front of him was a ticking clock that clearly fit into the category "character goods." A horned head with two pie-cut eyes poked out above the clock face. Two sets of cartoon limbs – the hands complete with white gloves – moved in rhythm with the beat.
Someone was clearly a fan of something, but the Doctor couldn't identify the show.
He stepped closer to the clock. Doodled around it – no, not doodled, but psychically imprinted in a yellow around it – were horns longer than the character's and a set of bulky arms.
The Doctor examined the character more carefully. "What do you think, Old Girl? Remind you of anyone?" He took the clock off the wall.
Pie-cut eyes stared up at him.
He pressed a finger to where a nose should have been and moved it around the white of the face, looking for secrets. All he found was a bit of dust between the horns and a place where black ink peeled from the character's toothy grin.
He turned and held the clock against the poster with the wolf.
His eyes drifted to some smaller words: PRESENTED IN SILLYVISION.
"Sillyvision?" he repeated. His eyes sparkled. "Ha! Sillyvision – Slvson! Slvson 8 is home of the Pnetiiy and the Lz, and that's exactly what this clock is – a Pnetiiy!"
He hung the clock back on the wall and rapped his knuckles against the psychic doodles. "You match the Pnetiiy's psychic projection abilities, but what are you supposed to be? Some sort of accident here? Doesn't matter I suppose – I'm just here to stop the time loop."
Opening a door, he made note of the squeaking hinges.
Luckily, no one was in the hall to hear the noise. He stepped out.
On a nearby grate hung a pair of polka-dot boxers and yellow suspenders. They looked like what that cartoon wolf was wearing in the poster.
A stench hit his nose. He sniffed – days'-old grease and bacon. Something else too. Something less edible.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
A thick black liquid dripped from the ceiling, the source of the other smell. Was that ink? It didn't belong, and certainly not enough to make a puddle on the floor.
The Doctor got down on one knee and stuck a finger into it. Echoes, dozens of echoes, buzzed, screamed, and overlapped inside, each with a zap of psychic and time energy. It tasered his mind, leaving a sting. It twirled his stomach like an amusement park's Twister ride. He yanked his finger out and wiped it on his slacks.
He held his clean hand above his mouth until an urge to vomit passed. One alligator… two alligator…. "You're alive. Alive and in pain. Hello, can you understand me?"
The ink did nothing but drip from the ceiling, each new drop landing in the puddle with a distinct plop.
He straightened up, frowning. He steered himself around the ink and through an open doorway. It led to a bathroom that reeked like old gym socks and rotting books.
He tried the sink – more ink.
Above the sink was a mirror broken and clouded over to the point of uselessness. It held another Pnetiiy thought: WHO AM I NOW?
"Your thoughts or mine?"
He searched the stalls but found nothing else of interest in the room, so he strolled into a kitchen with a table, chairs and a stove. No fridge, but plenty of empty shelves.
On the floor was a third thought: I'M SORRY, BUDDY.
The Doctor dove on the message, pressing his hands and one of his temples against it to get a better feel. He got weak waves off it – the equivalent of trying to listen through earbuds that are several feet away.
Pushing himself up, he said, "Whoever you are, I'm going to find you and find out what you know about this time loop."
He examined the table for clues.
There was a toolbox. Empty. There was a bowl, and what remnants of soup were in it were crusted over. There were playing cards and a scorecard, tallying equal points between a Henry and a – Boris?
He walked further into the kitchen. Just a nook. All that was there was a collage of cartoon body parts – human and wolf.
His stomach churned. He shook his head. "No. I make things worse by getting involved."
He turned to leave. Across the kitchen was a heavy metal door with a lever to open it.
His eyes caught on a painting above the lever. It was in the same yellow-and-black as everything else, but there was a winding street, round-topped trees, and west-Earth style houses. REMINDS ME OF HOME was psychically scrawled over the canvas.
"But it doesn't look anything like Slvson 8." The Doctor raised his eyebrows at the sight.
As he strode toward the lever, he pulled his gaze away from the painting. When the lever was down, the gate clinked into the ceiling.
The hallway beyond was also empty.
He looked around. Vending machine… desk… wooden cabinet….
Around the next corner was a section of hall with its lights burned out, so the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver. He lit its blue tip enough that he could see the nearest walls and shelving, and he passed through, avoiding more ink that was leaking from the ceiling.
As he emerged into a better-lit room, he heard something. He stepped over a loose vent cover and pressed his ear against the solid gate that blocked his passage.
Thu-thump. Thu-thump.
"Hello?" the Doctor called.
The noise was gone.
The Doctor bent down and shone his makeshift flashlight into the large vent near the floor. There was a layer of dust in there, and its center had been disturbed. Not recently enough to be clean.
He pressed his lips together. "No other way out from this side. Not unless you have a sonic screwdriver."
He aimed his tool at the wall and activated the lifting mechanism.
Strangely, there wasn't a way to activate the gate from the other side either. Inside, there was a column, around which a cavernous room had a sign declaring it to be Heavenly Toys – part of Joey Drew Studios.
Ink cascaded from the ceiling, over a carved DREAMS COME TRUE, behind the workshop's sign, and into an indoor pool. On either of the room's sides, a staircase led up and behind the ink-fall's wall. Plushies filled the corners, plushies of both the Pnetiiy and the wolf. Little fences ran from the front of the room toward the back, and toy airplanes hung from the ceiling.
Posters on the walls hinted at what the Slvsonians told Earth their character was:
BENDY IN… "HELL'S
KITCHEN"
SERVED IN SILLYVISION
...and...
BENDY IN
HELL
FIRE
FIGHTER
PRESENTED IN SILLYVISION
There were other posters, but the Doctor had enough to draw his conclusions.
He stepped inside the workshop and sought out clues about the time loop. He found two possibilities.
First was another wooden cabinet like the one in the hall. This one, he stopped to search. It was chest-height and had a single door that swung, a door with a slot and a painted halo. It was labeled Little Miracle Station.
As soon as his hand met the door, he felt a push on his mind. He wanted to look anywhere but inside – or at least his instincts did. But he, he knew what a perception filter was and who could place one on this cabinet. "You who I heard earlier – are you hiding somewhere around here? I'm onto you. If both you Slvsonian species are working together, it means you're travelers from the future – you should know better than to charge a time loop!"
He yanked the door open. No papers, no circuits – nothing except a bench – but for good measure, the Doctor felt around inside to confirm the thing was empty. He climbed inside and closed the door.
The slot was the perfect height to see out of.
Onto the second possible hint – something drawn on the floor. He stopped when he was close enough to make out a stylized pentagram – a psychic circuit really – surrounded by burned-out candles. Sixteen grinning Bendy cut-outs stood between it and a sofa.
Time flashed. Everything went yellow. It glowed.
A few cut-outs lay in the workshop. Their pieces littered the floor. Splinters covered footprints and dust.
Time relented, leaving the Doctor blinking at the many cut-outs standing intact. He glanced around. "Please tell me someone's in here. Time isn't supposed to be doing that! It's like it's fractured. You know what that means, don't you? I can help you fix it. No need to hide."
Another flash. The yellow. The glow. They were back.
The cut-outs were blocking a threadbare sofa. A fit man snored behind them.
Time returned to normal.
The workshop remained empty and silent. The Doctor shook his head. "Fine. Be that way. You'll come out when you realize how much trouble you're in here."
He squatted down to get a better look at the pentagram, eyes tracing an inscribed pentagon with a near-circle inside it. That circle looked more like an outline of Bendy's head. Stylized. Basic. The Slvsonians could easily have done it, but it shouldn't be connected to time. He had to move on.
Past the fences, he climbed the stairs. He walked through a room with a workbench and shelves of merchandise – largely of an Lz knock-off character. She even had the pearly horns and the glowing psychic circle above her head that the species sometimes had.
There was a cassette player lying on the workbench, but it had no hints about what could be causing the time loop. So the Doctor moved along until he reached a hall that forked.
He stood in front of a sign post. To the right was the Angel Path, which was open. To the left was the Demon Path, which was blocked by a solid gate. Listening closely, the Doctor thought he heard something plop inside the Demon Path.
The decision was made. The Doctor soniced the gate open easily, but the moment he did so, ink flowed underneath. He ran to the toy shop to disassemble some shelves.
He took stock of the room as he laid the first plank: ink dripped from the ceilings, and the liquid might have well been the floor and some support columns, but the room was worth it. Near the opposite wall lay a cassette player and a thought: HIS DREAM. MY EFFORT.
The Doctor took half an hour to gather the planks to cross the ink. He picked up the cassette player and examined its label: VOICE OF JOEY DREW. He pressed play.
There's nothing wrong with dreaming. Wishing for the impossible is just human nature. That's how I got started. Just a pencil and a dream. We all want everything without even having to lift a finger. They say you just have to believe.
Belief can make you succeed.
Belief can make you rich.
Belief can make you powerful.
Why with enough belief, you can even cheat death itself.
Now that… is a beautiful, and positively silly thought.
The Doctor shivered. He looked around, but no one was coming at the sound of the recording.
He looped back to the Angel Path, which was much clearer of ink. Patches of dust covered its floor, but they were disturbed enough that he couldn't tell if anyone had been through recently.
It was narrower, but still furnished. More like a furnished hallway than an actual room.
The walls held a poster for that Lz character, Alice Angel. They also served as a backdrop for a cut-out of hers, but they held no psychic messages. Nor did the floor.
Still, there was a cassette player along the way. Surely, one of them had to be useful, so the Doctor stepped over to it and checked the label: VOICE OF SUSIE CAMPBELL. He pressed play.
Everything feels like it's coming apart.
When I walked into the recording booth today, Sammy was there with that… Allison.
Apparently, I didn't get the memo. Alice Angel will now be voiced by Miss Allison Pendle.
A part of me died when he said that.
There's gotta be a way to fix this!
The Doctor looked over both shoulders for signs of company again. His neck hairs raised, but his eyes saw no one, and his ears registered only a soft mechanical grinding. He stuck his hands in his pockets and strode down the next bit of hall, where the growing sound of gears masked his footsteps. He turned a corner and wound up in a room of toys and… what else? Ink.
He stopped his steps, eyeing thick puddles of ink in his path. Giving the walls a once-over, he spotted open utility boxes with missing gears. A wall to the side had another message behind its shelves: WE'RE ALL HIS PLAY THINGS.
The Doctor would keep that in mind as he investigated time. For now, he leaped over a particularly thick puddle. He landed neatly, but something grabbed his ankle from behind.
His mind buzzed.
His stomach danced.
The ink had formed a corporal being. Empty eyes. Gaping mouth. Humanoid from the waist up. A half-formed trail of ink instead of legs. YOU'VE JUST GOT TO BELIEVE.
BATIM references in my other works:
*An Alien on Gallifrey - Donna, the Doctor, and the POTUS watch Oedipus Rex in the S. Lawrence Performing Arts Building
*Chiswick Mercy - the Eleventh Doctor takes River to a studio that brings inky creations to life (although these ones turn out to be robots).