AN: Apologies this one took a fortnight, I was being lazy.
The Case Of The Stunted Genii
Oswin
She was going to have to get used to waking up in dingy alleyways. It was relatively dark, the sky a little orange at the rims as the sun began to rise over the horizon. She could see blots in the sky streaming steadily down a distant skyway, flickering, hovering traffic lights and cars. But they were a whole world above the alley she and her sister were slumped in; black, filthy and puddled with filthy rain pools. Every now and then a rain drop or a drip from a rooftop would mark her head or ripple the ground. The air stank of oil and smoke and pollution, snapped plastic cigarettes were accumulating in one of the corners along with some bootprinted, soggy papers and damp clumps of cardboard.
"It's raining," Clara said aloud next to her, but she was hardly paying attention. The figurative darkness of the place they were in strangely reminded her of home, only there was no rain back home, which meant there was nothing to wipe away the grime stains in the gutters.
"Sick of rain. And alleyways. And no rest," Oswin said grumpily. "And no food. All I've eaten for over seven years is rations and synthetic sludge."
"Why?" Clara asked.
"War. Don't wanna talk about it," she said. Oswin pushed herself to her feet using the wall, and then crinkled her nose at the sight of her muddy hands. "Ew..."
"If you dare wipe your hands on me I will stop your tea allowance," Clara threatened. Oswin stared around, looking for anything to cleanse herself with, and spotted the newspaper.
"This is weird," Oswin said after wiping her hands on the paper and spotting the date. "The paper says it's the late twenty-first century, but that skyway is not supposed to be possible for over a thousand years."
"The cars aren't moving," Clara noticed, standing up behind Oswin, who flipped the paper open and scanned the pages. The front page was mostly about some gang violence and a murder trial. Oswin glanced up at the skyway and squnited and then held out her hand expectantly. "What?"
"Screwdriver," said Oswin. It was clearly obvious that what she wanted was the sonic. Clara shook her head.
"I'm just meant to know you want the screwdriver?"
"Er, yeah," said Oswin. Clara complained after a moment but relented and gave her sister the screwdriver. "I need to get my own one of these... Or something way better. I could modify it and make people pee themselves."
"Wow. I'm glad to see you're putting your genius to something useful," Clara shook her head and Oswin grinned while altering the settings, and then she reached out and sonicked at the distant skyway. "Did that just flicker?" Clara asked. Oswin laughed.
"It's a hologram," said Oswin.
"Why is there a hologram of a bunch of flying cars?" Clara asked. Oswin gave her the screwdriver back and held up the paper.
"Because of this," she said, "it's an advertisement for a-"
"A comic convention!?" Clara asked, staring at the two-page spread, splashed with a dirty image of wookies and klingons and hobbits. "Wait, are you telling me we're going to a convention?" Oswin realised what this meant, and decided the last person she wanted to go to a convention with was her sister, whose entire life secretly revolved around Star Wars. "I don't even have a cosplay ready!"
"...Right... Well... You can wait outside," Oswin said.
"Wait outside!? Are you kidding? You're the only person who won't judge me," Clara said.
"No, no... I'm plenty judging..." said Oswin, but her sister didn't hear her, she was too excited. "Anyway, there's no reason for us to go to a convention."
"Well, there was no reason to go into that speakeasy the other day, there was no reason to run that RV off the road, either," said Clara, "Maybe it's a chance to relax."
"Trust me, going to a convention with you is not in the least bit relaxing," Oswin grumbled, but she didn't have a better idea. Absently she searched her pockets, and then drew out a black wallet. "Psychic paper..."
"Why do we need psychic paper today? Tickets? For say, a comic con?" Clara said.
"No."
"Yes!"
"No, Clara!"
"But sci-fi conventions are where dreams come true!"
"Clara, you're married to an alien, you live on a time travelling space ship, you have superpowers, and you have a hologram of yourself who follows you around. Your entire life is a sci-fi convention!" Oswin argued.
"You can never have enough sci-fi," Clara said, walking out of the alley, Oswin forced to follow as she went roaming.
"Honey, you have 'sci-fi' all night long, that's enough," Oswin said.
"All night? Seriously? You think I don't sleep?"
"You know I can hear your thoughts when you and your husband are busy?" Oswin said, "It's not nice. Do you know what is nice though? That smell..." The unmistakeable reek of junk food was drifting from somewhere. "I have not smelt that for almost seven years."
"It's literally just grease and oil," Clara said, then she seemed to spot something and instantly change her tune. "Although, um, maybe we should check out the smell. Just to be sure it's not, I don't know, my echo flipping burgers." Oswin watched her suspciously, eyes flitting from a point behind her sister and her face. "I think it's coming from over there." She pointed and then walked off across the empty street.
"No!" Oswin gasped when she saw Clara making a beeline for the covention centre she had not seen, scrambling after her. There was a line out of the door of people dressed as aliens and whatever other shows and franchises Oswin had not seen. In all honesty, three-thousand year-old science fiction and fantasy spectacles were not her forte. In the end, that didn't matter, because she was stuck following Clara around making sure nothing dreadful happened. However, what she had not pointed out to Clara was the fact that this particular dream-realm was cross-dimension. Specifically, it was crossed with the dimension where their lives were a television show, which could only lead to disaster.
Clara walked straight through the wall with little notice from the heavily-costumed convention goers (their peripheral vision must be dreadful), but Oswin could not defy physics, and she tried to cut past the doorman, but he stopped her.
"Back of the line," he said in a dry voice, giving her a look meaning she was not the first queue barged he'd had to deal with that day.
"Er, no, I'm... You see, I'm an official," she lied, crossing her arms and nodding.
"You're officially going to the back of the line," he said, and by now a Clone-Trooper behind her was objecting.
"Excuse you, do you know who I am?" she said shrilly. The doorman laughed once.
"Yeah, a waste of my time," he growled.
"I'm famous," she declared. "Seriously, look me up." More people were starting to get angry now, and she was trying to ignore them.
"Oh yeah? You got a name Little Miss Famous?" he humoured her.
"Obviously," she said, trying to remember the name of whoever played her in that universe.
"Well what is it? I'm gonna have to move you anyway," he said, and then he tore the Clone-Trooper's ticket and let them push right past Oswin, who shouted, "Oi!" She fished her psychic paper out of her pocket and flashed it, really hoping something useful was going to materialise on the paper. The doorman just sighed, and pulled a clipboard up to look at.
"Says somebody already let you in here, Miss Coleman," he said.
"Are you saying I'm not who I say I am? Ask one of these dedicated fans, or just google me," she said, shrugging and looking off like she was far too important to be bothering herself with matters of such triviality. And then a cosplayer stepped out of the line.
"You have to let her in," the girl said. The girl who, Oswin noticed, was toting a red dress and a whisk-bearing utility belt. She merely stared in shock-horror. She was used to seeing Clara, but Clara was completely identical, and this cosplayer (although of course she respected the girl) was not that.
"Um... Yeah..." Oswin agreed meekly. "I'm, you know, that, er..."
"Jenna Coleman," supplied the cosplayer.
"Yes, her, that is exactly who I am," Oswin nodded. "I've lost my sister in there, can I go in yet?"
"You don't have a sister," piped up an overweight, middle-aged guy from closer in the line.
"Are you saying you know my family better than I do, Creepy McCreeperson? I have five brothers," she snapped. "Well I have been disgraced out here. I would suggest that you, in future, learn the names of your VIPs at this here convention. I'll be reporting to your supervisor." And then she had ducked right past the doorman and into the huge, busy convention hall, and as soon as that happened someone had slammed into her and started carting her off somewhere.
"I found something," Clara said.
"What?" Oswin asked.
"The TARDIS."
"No, honey, it's not the TARDIS," Oswin said, trying to free herself from Clara's claws, "We're in an alternate universe."
"Oh, really?" Clara said sarcastically, practically dragging Oswin unwilling through mobs of aliens and wizards.
"Yes, really. The alternate universe where we are characters in a TV show!" Oswin hissed, and then Clara let go of her and she stumbled and bumped into someone dressed rather terrifyingly as a gargantuan creature she didn't recognise. "Sorry..." she apologised, and then ducked around to see Clara darting off somewhere and she groaned and hastened to follow against the tide of people. 'Where are you going!? It'll be a fake TARDIS!' And then she bumped into someone else identical to her, but who was not Clara. "Hi..." she said awkwardly. "You're, um... Jenna..?"
"Oh, no," she said, "I get that all the time. Dunno why though... Wait, so you're not..?" The echo was wearing a lab coat and had slightly charred hair, and was also wearing burned plastic glasses for safety, which didn't look to be props. Neither did the single, black, rubber glove she was wearing on one hand.
"Um, no..." said Oswin, "I guess we just have one of those faces..." she laughed and continued trying to look over the echo's shoulder, "Speaking of faces, have you seen someone else just run past here who looks like me..?"
"Who are you, again?" the echo squinted, lifting up the goggles fully. "Whoa... You look like me... Like, a lot like me..."
"Yep, wow, you're really articulate, but have you seen someone else run by here? Because I think she's about to see something that might upset her," Oswin tried to side-step the echo.
"No, really, who are you?" the echo was demanding suddenly.
"I'm, um... A totally awesome stranger with a missing twin," Oswin continued trying to walk around her, but then she started floating. Yes, floating, and there was a spluttering hiss of machinery and Oswin saw hover boots. Although they were poorly made. "Are you sure they're safe..?" Oswin steppped away, but they seemed to be in a space between two stands and the rivers of cosplayers. And then the echo was shot violently backwards by her own misguided propulsion system and crashed into the wall. "Oh my god, are you okay!?" she walked forwards, staring around for Clara. "Why would you even put those on, they're a death trap! I can see from here that your thrusters are completely disproportionate and do you even have stabilisers!?" The echo was shoving bits of cardboard and paper off herself.
"Seriously, who... What?" the echo frowned. Oswin paced around edgily, hoping she wasn't going to have to reset any more broken bones. 'Wherever the hell you are get over here now, I found your echo,' Oswin thought to her sister.
"Get out of there, that's like, someone's exhibit or something," Oswin said, watching for guards or staff members. Maybe there was security.
"You said stabilisers," the echo got to her feet and gingerly stepped on the hover boots.
"Yes, of course you need stabilisers. Do you even understand the meaning of a designated weight auto-adjustment and propulsion altering system?" she snapped, and then Clara appeared around the corner and frowned at the fiasco.
"Err..." said the echo.
"Well obviously you need all that otherwise you'd have to alter your flight path yourself every eight-and-half-seconds with that little wrist-gizmo," Oswin snapped.
"Ugh, you're babbling again," Clara complained, and the echo was lost for words at the sight of two clones.
"Babbling!? She's your responsibility, not mine. If you hadn't run off maybe she wouldn't have decided to switch on these poorly modified space boots from 1969 and crash into a bollard!" Oswin said in one breath.
"I'm like, really confused," said the echo. "Who are you? And how do you know all that about these prototypes?"
"Oh, prototypes? That's what you call those iron maidens strapped to your feet?"
"They're cutting edge."
"So are iron maidens. I could build ones that work perfectly in less than ten minutes with the right tools," Oswin grumbled. "Anyway, why do you have them? Who are you supposed to be?"
"I'm not supposed to be anyone, I'm helping out with one of the exhibits," said the echo. "Seriously, I don't even want to be here with two plastic-surgery addicts."
"We're... What?" they both said. Oswin continued, "Yeah, I think you're confused, you see, we're from an alternate universe. This is Clara Oswald."
"Oh yeah, totally, sure it is. You know, I consider myself a Whovian, and that's kind of insulting," said the echo.
"And I'm Oswin Oswald. The most intelligent human who ever lived. Ever. Ever," she said firmly. "And we're here to help you. Probably. Unless you're all whiny or something."
"Tell me something only Clara would know," the echo challenged.
"Ooh, tell her the size of your husband's..." but Oswin stopped when she got death stares at what she was about to suggested, "...feet..."
"Husband? Clara's not married," said the echo.
"Aren't I..?" Clara asked, puzzled, and then she raised her left hand to examine the perplexing amount of rings she wore, primarily her wedding ring and engagement ring she still wore at the same time. "Where'd, um... You know I think I am married. I kind of have a husband. And a wedding album. And memories. Unpleasant ones involving paint..."
"Paint?" Oswin asked.
"Jack wanted to play messy twister," Clara shook her head, "So much paint. I hate to think about whoever had to clean it up."
"Who are you married to then?"
"The Doctor, obviously," said Clara, "it was a Vegas thing. Weird. Very long story."
"Which Doctor?"
"The Eleventh one, with the tweed, the bowties and the... tweed," she repeated tweed after clearing her throat and Osiwn gave her a look, "What?"
"What were you gonna say?" she asked.
"Nothing," Clara said.
"Yeah, okay," said Oswin. And then the echo squealed and grabbed Clara's shoulders, the latter of whom reeled back and flinched.
"Oh. My. Stars. You were my OTP! Souffez!"
"Yeah, I'm... Wait, Souffez?" Clara asked, "And OTP? What's OTP?"
"One True Pairing, honey," explained Oswin, "It means that she, like everyone else who's ever had to suffer through the pair of you when you're not together, really wanted you to bang."
"Very eloquent," Clara remarked sarcastically. "What's with the Souffez? Normally we just get Whoufflé. And then I think someone said Cloctor. Like, one time."
"They're all stupid names," Oswin said.
"At least they're not Adwin."
"Stop it."
"Or... Mitchwald. Oh wait, Oswell. Like Roswell," Clara said, seemingly proud of herself for this instance of what could barely be called creativity.
"Wow, Clara. You have successfully identified two words that sound vaguely similar. Would you like a medal?" she said in the dryest possible voice.
"Yes," said Clara.
"...Well I don't have a medal..."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," snapped Clara.
"Hang on, but, in the show, you don't even know each other... Am I on drugs? Fumes from something in here..?" the echo stared around as though trying to identify a hallucinogen by sight, which probably defied the point of it being a hallucinogen.
"You could be on drugs, yes," said Oswin, "But we are not hallucinations. Although if we were, you would have exceptional taste. Speaking of taste, I want a burger."
"That's fascinating," said Clara.
"Are you always like this?" the still nameless echo asked. They both thought for a few moments.
"You know, Clara here is a little crabby because she hasn't had sex for about nine days, so," Oswin said politely. Clara clenched her jaw and glared, blowing air out of her nose and being unable to deny Oswin's statement.
"I was unprepared for abstinence," she said finally.
"I'm still hungry," Oswin mumbled. "For food. Do you want some food? We should go get some food."
"...Fine," Clara gave up eventually, then she asked the echo, "Do you want anything? No doubt we have some ridiculous amount of money?"
And then they were weaving their way through throngs of people following the smell of junk food, Oswin trying not to look anyone in the eye in case she was either recognised as someone she wasn't, or she stared.
"This girl will totally believe whatever we tell her," said Clara, trying to find the source of the smell.
"You should tell her you're a lesbian," Oswin told her, standing on tip toes (not that it helped) to try and see over the bobbing, masked heads.
"Stop trying to make me tell people I'm a lesbian," Clara.
"I will. As soon as you tell husbandy," Oswin gave her an ultimatum.
"Well I can't tell him now, can I? And I'm not even remotely a lesbian. Just because I slept with, like, three - five at the most - girls, does not make me any less straight," Clara argued.
"Yeah, it kind of does," Oswin said, and then they finally spotted a food cart. Or, rather a lot of food carts all gathered in one spot. "Wouldn't tactical distrubution of nutritional goods be more of an appropriate and less competetive than a blockade of sales points?"
"I don't... Why do you have to speak like that?" Clara asked.
"Seriously? We're at a sci-fi convention, and I'm the one speaking weird?" Oswin shook her head and joined the closest line.
"It's not just a sci-fi convention, I think I saw the Hollyhead Harpies earlier," Clara said detachedly, looking around.
"You saw the, um... Aren't they a Quidditch team?" Oswin questioned.
"I... I don't know. Possibly. They had a banner," Clara shrugged and remained looking in the complete opposite direction, continuing to arouse the suspicion she was a secret Potterhead, but Oswin had yet to care enough to pursue it.
"Oh my god, is that a deep fried doughnut?" she exclaimed.
"What? Ew, that's disgusting," Clara commented, seeing the doughnuts Oswin was gawping at.
"What do you mean!? It's a doughnut, and it's deep fried!" she said.
"Exactly! It's rank!"
She completely ignored Clara's objections to her eating a large amount of battered confectionaries and bought four of them, and also onion rings.
"I don't think Creepy Adam would like you as much if he could smell your breath," Clara commented. She was, however, also eating onion rings and being a massive hypocrite. Oswin stuck out her tongue. "Slush puppies..." Clara was suddenly entranced by the slush puppy stand.
"Uh-uh, no, you remember what happened the last time you had those?" Oswin challenged.
"I was ill!"
"You were insane! You were fighting with your husband over a lightsaber," Oswin said.
"What? No I wasn't," Clara said.
"You hardly remember anything from that day," Oswin dispelled her statement and went to find more food that wasn't a sugar overdose waiting to happen.
"But can't I just have-"
"No, because you'll vomit everywhere and be disgusting and I'll have to deal with it," Oswin dragged Clara forcefully away from the slush puppy stand, ignoring her childish protests.
"Well can I have some candyfloss?" Clara asked.
"I'm not in charge of what you eat, just no ice cream or slush puppies. After the last time," she said knowingly.
"Apparently I smell like candyfloss," Clara said after procuring herself a bag of the edible pink cloud.
"That would be useful information. If I could smell. And also if I cared," said Oswin, continuing to eat her doughnut. "I wish I could taste."
"I thought you could here?" Clara said, cutting through crowds to the wall and skirting around the main pathways this time.
"Yes, here. I meant in the real world," said Oswin. "Where I'm dead."
"Well technically, you're dead here too," Clara said, eating another onion ring and seemingly oblivious to what she had said.
"Yeah, well, you could also be dead," said Oswin, and then they finally found the closed-off tent where the echo was apparently helping out. "Or in a coma."
"Thanks. Nice to know that if I am dead, I'll always have you here to offer me kind words," Clara muttered, pushing open the tarp and going into what seemed to be a low-rent, portable laboratory, and then they were both apprehended by the echo whose name still hadn't been made clear. The tent was currently closed to the public, and the plastic walls were a painful shade of blue. It had multiple stands with covered over objects, but other workbenches scattered about and the typical science gimmicks which interested toddlers and young children only. She supposed that at some point throughout the day all the tarps and coverings would be removed and tossed in a dark corner out of sight and it would join with the rest of the convention. She couldn't tell what it was meant to be though, which made her think it could just be a workshop and the echo had been hired as part of some sort of tech-venture. Maybe it was just the maintenance tent.
"What do you mean 'coma'?" the echo asked.
"Tragic story," said Clara at the exact same time Oswin said, "Inside joke."
"...Er... What's so funny about a coma..?" asked the echo.
"Yeah, Oswin, what's so funny?" Clara asked. Oswin was torn between a rock and a hard place.
"Err... Clara's slept with twenty-two people," she blurted out, changing the subject. Clara shrank back away from confidence and slid away with her onion rings ashamedly, the echo staring after her. "Not including her eleven husbands."
"I don't have eleven husbands," Clara growled. "I have one. And I married him twice. Neither time by choice, and both within the space of a fortnight."
"Err..." was all the echo seemed to say.
"Yeah, well, you can drill Clara about her sex life-"
"Please don't," Clara begged.
"Haha, drill..." Oswin laughed at herself, then she caught Clara's dead pan head shake, "...And she'll talk for hours because she hasn't seen her husband for nine days and she's very deprived," Oswin said, walking off towards a desk covered in gizmos and gadgets and little flashing lights and materials.
"Married twice..?" the echo queried.
"...Yep..." said Clara. Oswin was listening out of the back of her mind as she stared at the devices in front of her and tried to think of something useful to make. "Long story."
"Oh my god, please tell me, I'm like in love with you both," said the echo, and Oswin snorted.
"That's not creepy at all," said Clara, "well, um... I never normally tell this story... We got drunk in Vegas and got married..? It might have been Rose's idea."
"Rose Tyler?"
"Um... Yeah... She wanted a distraction so she could steal two-hundred million dollars from a casino. Amy and Rory stole a baby, so I think a damn drunk marriage is a far lesser evil than that," said Clara.
"Amy and Rory were there too?" the echo asked.
"Yeah, everyone was there," Clara said, and then Oswin cleared her throat, "Okay. Everyone was there except for Tentoo, Jenny, Oswin and Oswin's boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend," said Oswin.
"...Right. And Creepy Adam Mitchell," said Clara.
"The guy who was only in two episodes?" the echo snickered.
"Can we get back to the topic of Clary's weddings now? Please?" Oswin requested.
"...So yeah," Clara resumed, "We woke up in the same bedroom the next day. Although he was on the floor and I stood on his face. This was before we were... Involved..."
"You were plenty 'involved' honey," Oswin commented blandly.
"It was complicated," said Clara, defending herself, "And the second wedding was just as bad. Basically, it was Don't Tell The Bride. Only, they didn't tell either of us, and planned our entire wedding. Behind our backs. And then Oswin scratched my face off."
"I'd been through a traumatic ordeal. You know. Dying," said Oswin, fumbling with some wires and an old watch strap.
"You're dead?" the echo asked.
"Yes, very. I'm a hologram with an unfortunate psychic connection to a nymphomaniac," she explained.
"If you're a hologram how are you touching things and eating..?" the echo asked slowly. Oswin gave her a dark but slightly confused and irritated look.
"Just... Because it's... Sciency-wiency..." she said, and then she directed her gaze at Clara, "My god, I sound like you and your fake degree."
"It's not a fake degree."
"Oh yeah? Well where is it?"
"What?"
"Where is it?"
"I don't carry it around with me all the time," Clara said. "Or ever."
"Why not?"
"...You're crazy. Has anyone ever told you that before?"
"Yes, lots of people. And none of them ever called me crazy again, because they were all found dead at the bottom of lift shafts within twenty-four hours due to completely unrelated circumstances," said Oswin. "...That's not... True..." she said when Clara couldn't tell she was joking. Clara was still unconvinced. "...So you were saying about the time you broke up?"
"Yes. I mean, I mean no, no," she covered her tracks (or attempted to) when the echo became incredibly distraught. "It was briefly, like a day long, twenty-four hour thing. Maybe even just twelve, or six. Not even a legitimate break up. But it was for a totally real reason."
"Well what was the reason?" the echo asked.
"It, err... Was... It was pretty serious, you know?" Clara mumbled. The echo continued waiting for the story. "Just one of those things. That normal couples would totally kill each other over."
"But you said it wasn't legitimate?"
"It was a really complicated issue," Clara said, "I can't remember the details. But yeah, it all blew over pretty quickly."
"I bet it did," quipped Oswin.
"So what happened?" the echo asked.
"He, erm... He cheated on me. With an... Empress. Who was also a stripper. In a steak house," said Clara, her words backed by four or so gasps at ever interval. "There was a lot of barbeque sauce. But you know, we talked about it. As adults."
"The Doctor? Seriously?" the echo asked.
"No," Oswin sighed, "Clara broke up with him because he never said 'I love you,' and then when everyone asked Clara if she had said it to him she was like, 'No because it's obvious,' and when they asked the Doctor if he said it he said the same thing. So Clara tried to sleep with all these guys at a pool and then Jack and Rose locked them together in a hotel suite and made them think there were ghosts and they played loads of disco music. And then they did it or something and everything was fine."
"Okay, you were not there," Clara said.
"Is that what happened?" Oswin pressed.
"Well, you see from another perspective-"
"Clara, no, is that what happened?"
"You are making it sound petty! It was not petty, he almost died," said Clara.
"Because you attacked him with a champagne flute! And then you had a fit because you ate a poison soufflé," Oswin argued.
"The soufflé is irrelevant," said Clara, "And you weren't there."
"I've seen the tapes. It is what happened. I can't even believe it worked, it was the dumbest thing," she said. "And it didn't work the second time. It was a one-hit-wonder. A creepy one."
"Creepy like your boyfriend," said Clara.
"Who is not my boyfriend. Again. Just thought I'd mention that. And he's also not here. Thankfully. Anyway, you should have seen the second time they broke up."
"What!? There was a second time!?" the echo exclaimed. Oswin stuck a bit of metal into a socket forcefully and frowned at her creation, before taking it apart and beginning again with the components.
"Yeah, there was a second time..?" Clara asked.
"Well, I mean, you forgot you were together for like a day the other week," Oswin said.
"...That was not a break up, that was a memory ray and it wasn't our fault," Clara said, "And it wasn't fun."
"I know it wasn't fun, I had to agree to a date to get you out of it," Oswin complained.
"Which you still haven't gone on."
"Wait," said the echo, "They forgot they were together?"
"There was so much sexual tension it was unbelievable. Especially after they woke up in the same bed and neither of them knew how that happened. Although I know how it happened, it was because it was sex night," Oswin said.
"We don't have that..." Clara told her, "Like, seriously..."
"I know you don't," Oswin said, undeniably confused about the fact Clara seemed to be taking her callous remark more seriously than usual. "Anyway, I'm gonna induct the newest member to the Echo Club," said Oswin.
"No way," began the echo, "I'm an echo of Clara Oswald? Wow."
"Well, what's your name?" Oswin asked her finally.
"Lara Oswald," said the echo. Clara and Oswin exchanged a befuddled look, both crossing their arms in the same way, but standing on different sides of the tent.
"And you never thought..? I mean, you look like her, and your name literally is Clara Oswald with one missing letter," Oswin said. Lara Oswald stared between them for a moment.
"Oh my god, you're right! How did I never notice that before?" she asked, grinning stupidly. "Oh, also, I'm kind of a genius. But sort of restricted to biology."
"Err..." said Oswin. "Can you, um... Er... Computer?" Clara was completely confused about Oswin's babbling.
"You mean can I use a computer?" the echo asked.
"...She means are you a computer genius?" Clara supplied, shaking her head at Oswin. 'What? I'm just... Curious...' 'You're not curious, you just want to be special still.' 'I am special still.'
"Nah," said the echo, "I can't even open google." Then she snort laughed and Oswin went back to her gadget. "Colleges fight over me, I'm always getting weird transfer requests. Everyone wants me."
"Nothing new," Oswin and Clara both identically joked, and then freaked themselves out with their synchronicity. "So what's your IQ?"
"One-fifty-two," said the echo. Oswin laughed coldly and Clara continued her steady, disapproving observation on the other side of the room, eating onion rings. "What?"
"Nothing," said Oswin.
"Seriously, what? I am a genius," the echo said. "The only other person you're gonna find here smarter than me is the doctor."
"Doctor who?" they both asked.
"Oh, no, not him. He's fictional. Or not, I suppose..? Erm... Doctor Smith, I mean," said Lara.
"And also me," said Oswin.
"Does this Doctor Smith bear a passing resemblance to one of the Doctors, by any chance?" Clara asked.
"Doctor..? Nah... Although, come to think of it... No, no resembla... Hi!" she said to someone on the other side of the tent, who then walked in through and what happened next completely stunned Clara and Oswin. The fact that the Tenth Doctor had just walked into the closed exhibit, or research tent, whatever they were in, was the first startling thing. The second was when the echo bounced over and kissed him, and the other two were shocked to silence. Oswin nearly dropped her gadget. After a few moments, Clara cleared her throat loudly and Ten and his... Whatever she was, looked up.
"Wow, who are..?" he asked.
"It's complicated," the echo said. 'They're like, totaly embracing. Ew.' 'Coulda been you.' 'You do remember that you all went to really extreme lengths to stop this exact thing ever happening?'
"Could you just stop with your... Thing?" Oswin ordered the pair of them when they wouldn't stop sucking face. "Have some decency."
"This was supposed to be our private tent," said the echo. Clara shuffled over to Oswin when neither of the two parties listened to the request and continued with their merry-making.
"...Am I like that?" Clara whispered, "Please tell me I'm not..."
"Umm..." said Oswin, continuing to draw out the sound for a while rather than answer her sister's question.
"Seriously!?" Clara exclaimed, looking over at the couple and appearing disgusted. Oswin did not look at them.
"...From what I hear. I mean, there is a PDA rule specifically against you two," Oswin said. "And I did hear the truth about the whole paintballing incident."
"There was no incident, she shot us in the face."
"You share a face now, do you?" said Oswin, "I have heard too many stories from the others about them having to vacate a room because of the two of you, and now you see why."
"But... But they're REALLY GROSS!" she shouted the last two words, and Oswin was thankful she couldn't see whatever was happening, and tried to block out the sounds.
"And you're really hypocritical!" Oswin told her.
"I'm not... I..." she resorted to making frustrated noises.
"Think of this as A Christmas Carol. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, come to show you the error of you ways. So, stop making out in public places because it's nasty as," Oswin said.
"Look at this," Clara said a moment later.
"Whaaat?" Oswin asked, and Clara pointed at the couple, who had apparently morphed together into one vile beast of tongue and spit and suction. Clara snapped her fingers and it was like a bubble erupted between them, forcing the actual Tenth Doctor and Clara's actual echo apart, finally. Oswin snickered and high-fived Clara's lifted hand.
"What was that?" Lara Oswald explained. If she was an archaeologist, Oswin could make so many puns it wasn't funny. Except it would be hilarious if she was.
"Static electricity and reverse magnetism, like with balloons," Oswin said, fidgeting with her modified watch-strap now the device was nearing completion. Clara was watching her build it now, probably trying to guess what it was.
"Yeah, well, I did say I was a genius, and that's not true," the echo argued.
"I know it's not true that you're a genius," said Oswin.
"That's not what I said."
"It is totally what you said," Clara agreed and Oswin nodded, even though she was only listening and was focusing on her gizmo. "Okay. What is it? Your thingamajig? Knowing you it's probably a flying dildo."
"First of all, ew. Second of all, who would you even market that to?" Oswin questioned, slightly disgusted and weirded out by the crass assumption. "And third of all, what do you mean 'knowing me'?"
"Well you hardly use your intellect for anything useful," Clara said, eyeing the couple as they tried to walk around the invisible blockade keeping them at least two metres away from each other.
"Did you just forget that two days ago ever happened?"
"I was trying to," Clara said darkly.
"Okay, hold out your hand," Oswin said.
"What? Why? Are you going to drug me?"
"When have I ever drugged you!?"
"Now seems as good a time as any to - oi!" Clara objected when Oswin got bored and had to force the augmented watch onto Clara's arm.
"Switch it on," Oswin said.
"Why? Why don't you wear the thingy?" Clara glared at her outstretched hand. A glance told Oswin that the other two were watching.
"If you trust me, you'll switch on the device," Oswin said calmly.
"Don't manipulate me with trust," Clara said. Oswin was silent, watching until Clara gave up, which she did easily, and finally clicked the thing on, and disappeared like a paint drop spreading through clear water.
"Look, it totally worked. Unless you ceased to exist. You haven't ceased to exist, have you..?" Oswin asked carefully, keeping her guard up from her now invisible sister. "I wasn't wrong to trust you with three superpowers, was I..?"
"Am I invisible..?" Clara asked.
"And you say I don't do anything useful," Oswin said, "If you dare do anything to me I'm gonna fill all your shoes with off whipped cream. All of them." Clara reappeared and glowered. "Can I have my thingy back?"
"What? You just gave me it," she argued. 'I'll make you a proper one when we get out of here. It'll take like, five minutes.' Clara begrudgingly handed it back.
"What exactly was that..?" Ten asked, stepping over, and Oswin stepped straight out of his way.
"You can stand back, Mr Tonsil Tennis," she said, and he looked hurt, but she found she didn't care.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"The smartest human who ever existed, blah blah blah, the usual stuff," Oswin said. "Well, finally getting to the point. Is there anything your escort friend there needs help with?" she nodded at the echo.
"Don't call people escorts," Clara told her sternly.
"She might be an escort."
"That's not a good enough reason to go around calling people escorts," Clara said. "But she's right. Is there anything super specific you need help with?" They both exchanged a look Oswin could not decipher, and she found herself hoping they didn't decide they needed help writing their vows or something, although they didn't appear to be engaged or married. And there also appeared to be some twenty-year age gap, although Oswin didn't think Clara would take kindly to her criticising age differences in couples since her husband was 1200.
"...We probably shouldn't..." the echo said. 'What if she's pregnant?' 'She better not be.'
"We're not allowed to discuss it, sugarplum," said Ten softly.
"Okay, they're officially worse than you," Oswin said. While Clara choked on her chips.
"I'm gonna go be sick in my eyes..." Clara said hoarsely. "Can you just tell us? Without being gross, preferably?"
"Well who are you? Why are you here?" Ten asked, still confused about the telekinetic forcefield Clara was secretly maintaining. "Hang on, do I know you? You look familiar... Are you twins?"
"...Yes..." they both said, sporting the same what-the-actual-hell look on their faces. Was everyone a complete idiot?
"Oooh, is that where I know you from? Because you look like her and..? Ahh..." he said in a crudely false version of 'realisation'. "Why are you here though?"
Oswin couldn't think of an adequate cover quickly enough, and resorted to waving her psychic paper at Ten, who squinted, but then his eyes widened. "Ooh, you'rethe Bomb Squad."
"Bomb Squad!?" they both exclaimed.
"Yeah, for the bomb," Ten said. "Sorry, are you not the Bomb Squad?"
"No, no, we're definitely the Bomb Squad..." Clara muttered. "We love bombs. I mean, um, defusing bombs. Not bombing. Don't love that."
"So, um, could you just brief us? About the bomb?"
"Well I really think you should speak to the head of security," said Ten.
"We did. They said to talk to you," Oswin said.
"Oh, alright then," Ten beamed. 'Is it just me, or is everyone really stupid?' Clara thought, busying herself with food. They didn't seem particularly bothered about the bomb threat that had supposedly been issued. "There's a bomb."
"Right... And..?" Oswin prompted expectantly.
"...It's going to explode..?" Ten said unsurely.
"What type of bomb? Who planted it? Why did they plant it? Why bomb a convention?" Oswin asked.
"Lot of questions..."
"Yes. Do you think you could maybe answer them?"
"Oh, right. Which one?"
"Any of them!"
"Er... Could you repeat the question? Oh, questions, sorry," Ten said, grinning bemusedly like he had no idea what was going on. He probably hadn't.
"What type of bomb is it?" Oswin asked slowly.
"A dangerous one."
"Oh my god... Why hasn't there been an evacuation if there's a bomb?"
"I heard the Bomb Squad were gonna do a sweep. Securirty said they didn't want to trigger the bomb by doing an emergency evacuation, they thought it might lead the bombers to detonate it," said the echo.
"Wow, that... Made sense..." Oswin said. "So they think it's going to be detonated remotely?"
"Yeah, they think someone will be watching and a certain event later is going to be the target of it," the echo told them.
"Which certain event?"
The echo shrugged, "Dunno."
"Right. Thanks," Oswin said, half-dryly. Although she supposed the echo had been partially helpful. "One more thing, do either of you have a phone I can borrow?" Ten pulled a smart phone out of his pocket and Oswin took it without a word and left the Tent of Love after more than long enough.
"That was rude," Clara commented, following her out as she started wiping and reprogramming the device.
"I literally do not care," Oswin told her bluntly. "I'm gonna build a bomb detector."
"How are we gonna defuse it?" Clara asked. Oswin gave her look. "Oh, right, because you're a genius and you know everything."
"Yeah, exactly," Oswin told her.
"So since you know everything-"
"I don't like where this is going..."
"Do you know what you're gonna do about Adam Mitchell?" Clara toyed, trying (and failing) to find something to wipe her hands on.
"I know that I don't want to answer this question," she said. "I don't get why you keep asking me, it's not like he's here for me to do anything about."
"When we wake up, and you see him, what are you gonna say to him?" Clara asked.
"You don't have your own relationship to obsess over so you're obsessing over mine, and it's annoying," Oswin muttered.
"But there is definitely a relationship?"
"What?"
"That's what you said. You said I was obsessing over your 'relationship'," Clara said.
"...Shut up. You're whiny and I hate you. And also I'm busy."
"Who would bomb a convention anyway?" Clara asked.
"Angry Star Wars fans."
"...Well... No... Someone else..."
"Angry Star Trek fans?"
"Seriously."
"Angry Doctor Who fans. Angry Supernatural fans. Angry Sherlock fans."
"Why would Sherlock fans be angry?"
"Still wating for Series 4, I imagine. What about angry Lord of the Rings fans? Angry Harry Potter fans?"
"Alright, fine, don't be helpful."
"Go find a time table or an itinerary or something," Oswin said, "I'm being helpful enough. Have some initiative."
"You could use an EMP," Clara suggested.
"Clara, the whole damn reason we're here is because of an EMP. I use an EMP, we might go into a coma within a coma. A dream within a dream. It will literally be Inception," she argued. "Anyway, I have a hunch about how long we're gonna be here."
"...Oh?"
"Well who haven't we met yet? The Ninth Doctor, Jack, River, The Eleventh Doctor and Rory. One a day makes five days."
"Five days!?"
"You've already done nine. It's only five more days you have to put up with me."
"Put up with you? I don't just put up with you. Although speaking of that, I need a favour," Clara said, Oswin paying to much attention poring over the phone to take note of Clara's brittle tone.
"Sure, anything," Oswin obliged offhandedly.
"Stop telling people about my personal life. Because when we get out of this in five days or whatever, if you start saying random things to people-"
"Okay," said Oswin, "It's not like it matters if I tell these imaginary people, but alright."
"Good." There were a few moments of silence while Oswin coded. "By the way," Clara began again, "What actually is your IQ?"
"Mine? That's private information. Isn't me showing off all the time enough?" she joked.
"Nope."
"Guess," Oswin said.
"Oswin, I'm not gonna guess your IQ," Clara said.
"Then you'll never know."
"...Alright, fine," Clara succumbed. "Is it more than... Two-hundred?" Oswin smirked to herself.
"Oh yeah."
"Tell me."
"Why do you care?"
"I just happen to know my husband's IQ, and I'm curious to see the difference," she said, crossing her arms and squinting at the codes Oswin was typing far too quickly for her to read.
"Yeah, I know his IQ as well."
"What is it?"
"Not as high as mine, that's what. Ha, mine. Because there's a bomb," Oswin chortled to herself.
"Hilarious. You do know he has twenty-seven brains," Clara said.
"He has one brain, Clara."
"Nu-uh."
"He doesn't have twenty-seven heads to keep twenty-seven brains. Where is he going to get that sort of body mass from?"
"Well, Oswin, you don't know him like I do."
"Eugh. Don't speak to me."
"I'm sorry I'm in love," Clara pretending to swoon over the sheer memory of her weird husband who liked to empty yoghurts into bowls and eat the mixed slop with his hands.
"Love has nothing to do with it, you're disgusting and you should be ashamed."
"As long as he's the one shaming me..."
"Ew. What does that even mean. You're an atrocity, Clara. You and your boy toy. Please stop talking to me."
"Tell me what your IQ is."
"Don't you think that's private information?"
"As opposed to knowing how many people I've slept with, without me actually telling you so you have basically no right to that information?"
"Twenty-two is a lot of people though. How'd you fit it all in? Actually, no, don't answer that..."
"Har har."
"I see your point, but I'm still not telling you," Oswin said adamantly.
"Whyyyyy?"
"...You're really whiny when you don't get what you want."
"I normally do!"
"Doesn't make you any less spoilt."
"I'm not spoilt."
"Are too."
"Tell me!"
"No. Does this work on your husband? This incessant noise-making?" Clara glared at Oswin for that. "Or do you just bat your eyelashes and he does everything you ask?"
"Mainly the second one."
"Well that will not work on me, otherwise I would faint every time I looked at myself in the mirror and pretended I was on TV and world famous," she said.
"Ugh. You're so annoying."
"Oh, I'm annoying? 'Tell me tell me tell meeee'," she mimicked, sniggering to herself.
"Whatever. Did you finish making your tracker yet?"
"I finished ages ago, I was just letting you tire yourself out," said Oswin.
"Well then where's the bomb?" Clara asked. Oswin wondered if her sister was still in complete denial about the fact she was marvellously whiny and brattish sometimes (or most times). She supposed the Doctor would never tell her out of fear, but someone had to.
"Dunno," she answered truthfully.
"What do you mean 'dunno'? How can you not know? You're... You," Clara said.
"Why do you expect everything of me? Look, this is keyed into electronic signals from a remote denoator. But there are none of those sorts of specific signals, which means the detonator and the bomb aren't switched on yet," she said. "Undoubtedly they'll be turned on just minutes before the detonation, probably three minutes because that's about how long it would take for someone to escape the convention hall. So as soon as the signal lights up we basically have to run."
"So we can't find the bomb unless it's about to explode? Great. We're a rubbish Bomb Squad," Clara grumbled.
"You're a rubbish Bomb Squad."
"You'd think you'd be smart enough to think of a better comeback, Oswin."
"There are other ways to find it," Oswin said after sighing, "For example, if you'd gone and got me an itinerary..."
"You mean separate? Yeah, right. Okay," Clara said sarcastically.
"Err... What do you mean?"
"If I leave one of us is going to get kidnapped or killed or something."
"Why? What are you, like, some sort of dragon protector?" Oswin asked.
"What? No, I'm just being sensible and realistic," said Clara.
"Wait, wait, wait, I see what's going on. You actually want to spend time with me."
"Oh my god, you're an idiot. You do know you're my best friend? Or I thought you were before you refused to tell me your IQ or if your brothers were hot," Clara said. "Of course I want to spend time with you."
"I'm not telling you either of those things, I don't care how in love with me you are," she said. Although she had been momentarily stunned by Clara Oswald, whose face she had once mutilated and whose marriage she had once tried to plunge into the icy depths of divorce settlements, saying she was her best friend.
"Because that's definitely what I said. Are you coming to find an itinerary then?" Clara said.
"Well I suppose I hardly have anything better to do, do I?" Oswin said, stowing the modified phone in her many-pocketed coat and following Clara back out into the crowds which were just as thick as they had been half an hour or so ago.
"Where do you want to go tomorrow?" Clara asked.
"Well we already did London, New York, a five star hotel, a cruise and a tropical island, a desert roadtrip, a country getaway, a city break, Paris and now a convention," Oswin said, looking at the past week through heavily rose-tinted glasses.
"That is what we have to tell the others when we get out," Clara said. "Nothing about murder and blackmail and serial killers and zombies and car crashes and Nazis and bombs."
"Why?"
"Duh, to make them think their prank sucked and we haven't nearly died multiple times. How smug do you think they would be if we told them that I broke my arm in four places and you had to reset your own ankle?" Clara challenged.
"They might feel bad."
"Seriously? Okay, they must have known this was a risk in the first place," Clara said.
"...Bet it was River's idea. She has it in for us."
"Oh, come on, just because she's the Doctor's ex-wife who died on his watch, and just because she repeatedly makes snide comments, and just because I was sort of accidentally rude to her when we first met, does not me she has it in for me," Clara said.
"How were you rude to her?" Oswin asked, keeping an eye out for leaflets or bulletin boards that may confer to them the schedule.
"It was an accident. Not my fault. Not remotely my fault," Clara said, looking like she was remembering something bitter.
"Oh yeah?"
"Okay, it was on the day you were born."
"The, um, what? You were there when I was born?"
"I mean the day I jumped into the time stream. Basically, you know how my husband is like in love with me and everything?" Clara said.
"No, is he really?"
"Right, so, he never told me he had an ex wife because he didn't want me to know. Whenever he mentioned River he always called her Professor Song. So-"
"So you didn't know she was a woman."
"...Yeah, basically... And I told her that. Brashly. So now she hates me, I think," Clara said.
"Well you did steal her husband, honey," Oswin said.
"'Steal'? No, I stole no-one. He can do what he wants, and clearly, what he wants to do is - I'm not finishing that sentence. But I'm quite sure I don't force him to stay with me. If he really wants to go back to River Song then he will."
"Most people wouldn't weirdly support their significant other cheating on them with someone else," Oswin observed, giving up searching honestly and scanning the pockets around them for time tables as they wove through.
"Well you're in a similar situation, what would you do?" Clara asked her.
"What would I do if I went back to Horizon a few decades on and someone I used to date had moved on to somebody else..? You know, I'd probably do the mature thing and not instantly despise them out of jealousy. Especially if the person was a 1200 year old alien. It's not like either of you are his first wives, didn't he used to have a family?" Oswin asked.
"I heard the Tenth Doctor got married to Elizabeth I," Clara said, "I wonder who was at the ceremony..."
"Elizabeth I? Of England? The Tudor?"
"Yep. And Marilyn Monroe," said Clara. "That was the Eleventh one too... How did that man manage to seduce Marilyn Monroe?"
"How did he manage to seduce you?" Oswin questioned. "And anyway, there's Rose, too. I'm pretty sure River hates me, as well."
"Why? What did you do? Was it something bad? Did you attack her?" Clara asked, shocked.
"Why is that your first conclusion? No, I did not attack River Song. She just hates me because I'm you, and I'm also way better at being a hologram than her. I swear she can't even teleport sometimes," Oswin said, and then she finally swiped a time table with the rota on it from somebody's pocket and they ducked out of sight to read it.
"Wait, if she's a hologram," Clara began, keeping the subject on track for whatever reason while Oswin sighed and skimmed the day's plan, trying to deduce the date. "Doesn't that mean the EMP got her as well?"
"It was probably targetted," Oswin said, "It wouldn't affect the room they were in. If she tried to leave she'd get wrangled by the electromagnetic field and switched off too. They'll have a safe zone, with lights."
"Well, talking about isn't gonna... What's that noise?"
"What noise?"
"Beeping," Clara said. Oswin paused and listened.
"Oh, shit, the bomb," she said, forcing the flyer into Clara's candyfloss-covered hands and retrieved the modded phone from her pocket, holding it up. "Alright, too many people... Not fast enough... Uuuggghhh... Put the invisible watch on, and head straight for it," Oswin gave Clara the bleeping phone with its scanner and then watch back.
"What are you gonna do?"
"...Come with you, I would hope? Or do you know how to defuse a bomb? Hurry up, Clars!" Oswin pressured. "I'm gonna go wish really hard to be a hologram again." Clara disappeared.
"I thought you liked being a human?" Clara's disembodied voice floated over.
"Inconvenient," Oswin said. "Go, I'll just teleport. If worst comes to worst just phase through the blast."
"How considerate." Then she heard running footsteps going away, and wondered how Clara had got her superpowers back, or how she'd managed to make her cigarettes spawn themselves handily every day. Although she herself had manipulated their 'reality' and made hot chocolate appear three days prior.
She supposed clenching her fists and hoping was the best she could do in such a grim situation, what with the bomb threat. She strained to remember what events she had seen on at that current time, but none of it had been anything she knew. Just shows and franchises not famous in three thousand years.
And then she knew the floor had moved and instead of standing on smooth, polished tiling she was on rickety wood.
"You did it!" Clara exclaimed from somewhere.
"I died again!" Oswin mimicked sarcastically.
"O-M-G THERE'S TWO!?" someone exclaimed. Oswin looked away from Clara and saw a crudely built device which she knew to be a bomb behind a short dumpling of a teenage boy with thick-lensed, round glasses sticking out of his face like telescopes amd taped together. He was even shorter than the pair of them, which was a feat by far.
"Did he just say the abbreviation out loud..?" Oswin asked as the boy or whatever he was snort-laughed out of some nervous habit and she cast him a pertubed glance and felt the urge to edge away creep up.
"Yep. I was beating him at Star Wars trivia," Clara said proudly. He snorted again. 'He reminds me of your boyfriend.' 'Ha, ha, very funny.' "Can we defuse the bomb yet?"
"Sure," he said in a snotty voice, snorting the sludge back up into his sinuses where it lurked. Then malice sparkled in his eyes (or lenses as the case may be). "If you think you know how."
"Oh my stars, it's a fake bomb! Why would you build a fake bomb, threaten the convention centre and then have it emit a trackable radio signal and stay next to it!?" Oswin exclaimed. It was definitely unreal, the masses didn't add up, nor the components. It was ticking, however, but she suspected a recording.
"Not trackable," the bomber said babyishly.
"Well it was, because I tracked it," Oswin said, then she walked straight up to the bomb and kicked it. Clara winced, but from a chute a dictaphone fell out onto the ground with the clock sound effect. Then she kicked it again, harder, and it clattered away, clanging hollowly under the stage where she presumed they were situated.
"It was a statement," he said, defending his pathetic bomb scare. It had hardly riled anyone up.
"It was a farce," Oswin said, grabbing the boy who appeared to be younger than twelve by his ear and dragging him straight out the stage door to the first member of security she spotted, patrolling around and staring out like a hawk. "Found your bomber. Some sort of sick prank." She handed the child over and the secuirity guard shook his head at the sight of the boy, grunted, and carted him away for judgement, she hoped.
"Mmm," Clara agreed from her annoyed side, "Speaking of sick pranks, what about Adam Mitchell?"
"What about Adam Mitchell, Clara?" Oswin snapped, going to find more food.
"He's got that chip," Clara said, "Won't the EMP affect him? Or is he in the 'safe zone'?" Oswin had not thought about that at all.
"I, um... He just better be in the safe zone," she said quietly. "Anyway," Oswin hastened to change the subject, "That was completely pointless and stupid."
"You're complaining that we have a lounge day. There must be hours left to just go convention-crawling," Clara said excitedly, "We can't even have been here two hours."
"Oh, joy on Earth... Because I've always wanted to go to a sci-fi convention with you, you who just tried to defuse a bomb with Star Wars facts," Oswin said grimly.
"Have some food, you will feel better before tomorrow and whatever it brings," Clara said. Then they spied a table free in the food-area (a clearing full of food trucks and plastic tables and chairs), and Clara went off to get food now her remark about Adam Mitchell's brain-door had stained Oswin's mood.
"You never told me what you want to do tomorrow," she said when she returned, "Or what you think will happen since we have like, no control over anything in our own brains'."
"We're basically doing clichés."
"How come?" Clara asked, eating a chip.
"Well, Jack the Ripper's not really, but Victorian detective work is sort of like Sherlock Holmes," said Oswin.
"Not really," Clara said.
"...Well gangsters is a cliché. The day after that was a scandalous celebrity. Then pirates and mermaids and being stranded on a desert island?" Oswin suggested, stealing Clara's chips rather than eating her own. But then Clara moved her whole polystyrene tray out of reach.
"I suppose I see your point."
"Then a UFO crash in the middle of the desert?"
"The one after that with Oswald the weirdo wasn't a cliché," Clara said.
"No, but, zombies? And then Nazis? And now a mad scientist, because I presume that's what the echo was?" Oswin said.
"So what could be next..?"
"No idea. Vampires? Ghosts? Werewolves? Clones? Robots? Superheroes? Medieval Knights? Vikings? Dinosaurs?" Oswin suggested boredly.
"Oh. So we have a lot to hope for."