Solipsism

Jack: Wishful Thinking

That was just fucking weird.

I stand and stare at the bed. There's no evidence Rose was ever there or that I ever sat on it. The bedspread and pillows are smooth, unmussed, firmly secured to the surface of the medical crèches.

And yet, it isn't entirely impossible, having seen the things I've seen, experienced the things I've experienced, that Rose could've somehow managed to materialize. It is unlikely, I know, maybe falling more into the realm of wishful thinking than possible reality, but it felt like her, sounded like her, even smelled like her. I can still remember the touch of her hair and the warmth of her body against mine.

I involuntarily groan. I'm breathing harder and faster than usual; I feel like I just ran up twenty flights of stairs.

I com The Doctor but there's no response. I suppose he's ignoring me; no big surprise there – the man could teach a graduate course in rudeness. I laugh to myself; the bright shine of his impertinence is one of the things that attract me to him. I slowly back out of the door and into the hallway and watch as the sick bay, little by little, goes dark.

Shaking my head, I'm not sure what to make of what has happened, or what to do next. I take a couple of deep breaths. I suppose I should continue on as planned. But, despite the full-service spacesuit, I'm all of a sudden extremely thirsty; my throat feels raw and scratchy. I remember there are several crew's messes on Newhope and as I recall one of them is fairly close to main engineering. Certainly I should be able to scrounge up some water there, maybe even manage a cup of tea. I briefly imagine showing up before The Doctor, two steaming mugs in hand, and smile. It's something I would enjoy right about now, so why would he be any different?

As I start walking towards the kitchen another thought pops into my head. I am on an assigned mission, after all. The plan is for me to do a survey of engineering and see if I can get main ship's power back online. Bringing The Doctor a cup of hot tea needs to be postponed; no matter how much I'd like to do it and how attractive a fantasy it is. Nonetheless, I do still feel I could use some water, so I'll stop at the mess, grab a quick drink and then continue heading aft. I'll play at the tea-boy thing later – after I'm finshed in engineering.

Thus resolved, I pick up my pace.

At the risk of sounding repetitious – and you know I always try to avoid being boring! – I need to admit that one of the galleys on this ship (and not necessarily the one I'm heading toward) holds no small amount of significance for me. Now I have to explain – I don't think of my life as a string of pivotal points, of momentous places and events… you know, proverbial watershed moments. Rather, I view my existence more as a gradual progression in one direction or another. I think of this progression as ideas building upon experiences that are based on other ideas, which are based on other experiences, and so on. That being said, near the end of my earlier adventures with John on the Newhope, I experienced what can only be described as a sea change while he and I were in one of the crew's messes watching our untouched tea grow cold. If I thought long and hard about it I would probably conclude the decision I made at that table colored everything that has happened to me since, and ultimately led me to where I am now. It was something John said to me while we were sitting in that crew's mess which suddenly caused a fantastic flash of clarity. Have you ever had one? When all of a sudden the cosmos coalesces perfectly, and you know exactly where you need to go and what you need to do.

I saw my life stretching out before me, apparently limitless. I saw where I belonged in the universe. I saw the truth.

Do I make it sound auspicious? Even fateful? Perhaps momentous? Hmm… well don't be too sure. The universe is if nothing else fickle. And whoever it is that's running it has a wicked sense of humor. Nevertheless, what happened at that table put me on a path that has brought me to the here and now.

Newhope is a big ship, as I said. I didn't have a whole lot of time back when I was traveling with John to explore, although I did study her schematics. Nevertheless, I admit it; I get a little lost a couple of times as I continue to navigate my way aft. I've taken a couple wrong turns and am forced to backtrack. But don't tell my team in Cardiff that! They believe I'm a veritable living GPS. Still, I'm reasonably confident I'm heading in the right direction, and as I get closer I start to feel more and more certain. I'm even back to humming "Beautiful" again. Walking unaccompanied down meters and meters of corridors in a deserted spaceship isn't so different than being alone in the shower: who's going to hear me singing? Besides, my voice isn't so bad…

I thrust my hands into my pockets and then realize I don't have any pockets – damn! – I'm still dressed in the spacesuit The Doctor outfitted me with earlier. It isn't as cumbersome as the old NASA spacesuits, thank God; in fact in comparison it's rather form-fitting and quite light and comfortable. Still, it's not like I'm wearing my trusty old greatcoat!

I walk into a room and the lights come on. Nope, not the kitchen… it's just another forlorn and empty space. I've got to be close, though, I know that. My humming turns into quiet singing as I enter several more rooms. The acoustics are good and I allow my voice to rise and carry:

To all your friends you're delirious
So consumed in all your doom
Tryin' hard to fill the emptiness, the piece is gone…

I'm pretty certain the next room is the kitchen. Ahoy matey, there be water up ahead! I charge in. The lights come on.

And again I stop dead in my tracks.

"Left the puzzle undone, ain't that the way it is?" the person sitting at one of the small tables sings. Beautifully, too, I have to admit.

It's Wil.

"Oh no," I moan.

"Oh yes!" She smiles.

Exactly…

Come on. Don't tell me you're surprised