Solipsism

Jack: Space Monsters

We're in an offshoot of The Doctor's wardrobe. He's let me rummage around in his closet before – in fact I spent several days here just gawking. A costume in any size for any epoch, that's what I discovered. My inner child was enchanted. It is a whole pile of fun.

But I'd not seen this area before. It's not fun at all. To my dismay and horror it houses a large selection of EVA suits.

"Oh no," I groan. "Are you going to make me wear one of those?"

"Yep."

"And a helmet?"

"Yep."

"I hate spacesuits," I'm whining and I can't help it. "And I hate space helmets. They do terrible things to my hair."

The Doctor snickers. "Jack, they're kind of required attire for where we're going."

"But… but can't the TARDIS somehow shield us? I mean, she has a chameleon circuit and telepathic circuits and a translation circuit and gods know what other circuits. But you're telling me she has no way to enclose us in some sort of protective life support bubble?"

This causes him to laugh out loud. Humor was not my intention here, not even my secondary goal. His laughing makes me all the more annoyed. I'm absolutely sincere: I detest EVA suits. They are a whole different pile of no fun at all.

"Jack, what are you nattering on about?"

"I'm serious! Being incased in one of those damn things…" I point to one that looks like some sort of god-awful NASA moon suit, "…is not something I enjoy. I'm… I'm…"

"Yes, Jack?"

"I'm claustrophobic!"

"WHAT?!"

"Well, not like certifiably or clinically claustrophobic, but I don't do well in those things. I suck air…"

"Not a problem." I can tell he's trying not to laugh.

"I sweat a lot. I get over-heated…"

"Won't be an issue."

"I'm clumsy. I run into things…"

"It's going to be okay Jack."

"I get hungry. I get thirsty. I feel like I need to go to the bathroom all the time…"

"Jack?" He stares at me. He's still amused but maybe not-so-much.

"What?"

"The TARDIS doesn't have a protective life support bubble circuit."

"Oh. Well what about…"

"No."

"Or the, a…"

"No."

"Right," I know I've lost the battle. "So we're going to EVA?"

"Yes!" he says cheerily. "And I'm sure we've got the perfect suit for you. Maybe something from the early Soyuz years of the Soviet space program?"

I roll my eyes and groan.

"Oh Jack, I'm just joking. We have state-of-the-art equipment here on the TARDIS, you know that…"

I visualize the ship's console with all its thrown-together bits of junk and can't help but chuckle.

"Seriously, We've got smart spacesuits you'll hardly know you're wearing, Jack. They include rebreathers that provide unlimited air. All your bodily functions will be dealt with, uh, efficiently and elegantly. It'll be like a second skin. But more to the point, the suit will keep you alive over there on the Newhope. At least until we get the ship's life support working…"

"Hostile environment?" I interrupt him.

"Oh, very."

"Do you have any armored combat suits?"

He stares at me blankly.

"Doctor, do any of these suits incorporate weapons?"

He shoots me another empty look.

Sometimes it's like we just stop connecting. It's the weirdest frickin' thing.

"Space monsters?" I raise my eyebrows questioningly.

The Doctor shakes his head. "I don't think so. Nothing could be alive over there. It's basically deep space vacuum in a can inside that ship."

"All the more reason we should be weaponed up," I insist.

He turns his back toward me and methodically begins scanning his collection of EVA suits. But I'm not sure he's not turned away from me because he's disappointed. We basically have very different attitudes about violence, and we both know it's always going to be a sore point between us. We will have to agree to disagree: an irresistible force meeting an immovable object. I'll let you decide which of us is irresistible and which of us is immovable.

I'm willing to accept our differences and continue to respect him. I wonder if he is willing to do the same for me.