So it's been 53 days... that's 19 days less than last time, but still not something I'm proud of. But there is so much exciting news!
1. I got an editor, longtime reader MewShiny; who I'd like to thank for being so awesome an editing for me. She writes for a lot of animes and is currently cowriting an amazing crossover between Hetalia and Doctor Who called Not Exactly Linear that I strongly recommend reading, just utilize the search options this site offers for her name or for her story.
2. There is going to be a title change. There actually was a title change a while back when I had many fewer readers, but now I'm going to majorly change it for the last time hopefully. Next update, the story will be called "The Shadows of Midnight" which as you can imagine, is foreshadowing (get it, foreshadowing... I couldn't resist)
3. I'm getting on an update schedule. MewShiny recently pointed out to me that at the rate I'm going, Episode 3 will be finished in a half a year; so I'm going to be stricter on deadlines. If the next chapter isn't out by February 1st, I request that you start complaining to me about not updating, because that does make me write faster.
4. Thanks to comments done by several readers, I do have plans to go back and rewrite episode 1, seeing as it is not really up to par with this one in terms of lengh or quality; I don't know when I'll do it, but I'll keep ya posted.
Musical Accompaniment:
This selection is a medley of songs from "Dr Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog, which is found on YouTube and quite amazing (and the track is instrumental, so don't worry about spoilers with it). It is done by a string quartet named String Theory.
www . youtube . co m. /watch?v=WLwJ7LUtvNo
remove spaces and enjoy
Disclaimer: This is episode 2 of 13, and there are going to be a lot of big questions that are going to be unanswered in this chapter and many raised that I won't answer in Episode 3. All I ask is for patience, because eventually, all will be made clear, just keep everything in the back of your mind, because everything comes back.
And without further ado, prepare to enjoy my longest chapter yer:
Time Traveler's (Three Different Ones) Part 6
"So did you enjoy the show?"
Chell and the Doctor had found themselves backstage to an interesting break room. The room featured a large, expensive, HD that looked like it dated from around 2016 and an extraordinarily long, curvaceous couch. The entire band was on the couch with Mathew sitting on the end, though there was still a bit of room for more to sit. They were watching Seinfeld, with Mathew playing the bass riffs featured within the show. The bass was connected to an amplifier with Mathew's glass of Moosehead Lager on it, though the outlet that powered the electric bass was not visible.
"I'm worried you may have thrown off your base with the last song their" the Doctor quipped.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the lead singer Myron Wagtail. "A fan to the ministry is most definitely not a fan to us."
"Take a seat, this episode's almost over, but a new one's about to begin."
Mathew's beckoning got the two sitting on the couch, Chell sitting next to Mathew and the Doctor between pianist and bagpipe player Gideon Crumb and Myron.
"Oh and yes"
The Doctor turned toward Mathew. "What?"
"I'd be happy to join you in your travels, now that I've helped Michael out. He's really a nice guy; doesn't want a war. And I'm about to guarantee that."
They were able to watch the show for about a minute before they started hearing some ruckus coming towards the room. Mathew sighed and took out his revolver and handed it to Chell.
"Can you hold on to this for me? It holds a lot of sentimental value and I'd prefer that the bastards who are coming don't take it again."
Chell took the revolver and noted that it wasn't fully loaded; in fact, the only loaded cartridge of the revolver was the sixth shot. Mathew if he had fired the gun would have had to fire 5 blanks before being able to shoot anything. Chell had no time to ponder it though, for the three little pigs had arrived: Yaxley, Bellatrix, and Umbridge.
"Hello, did you enjoy the concert?" Mathew wore a huge grin, stretched by the sheer amount he had drunk earlier. He was excellent drunk when loaded on quality alcohol, maybe becoming cocky, but never lacking elegance. The pigs well, they ranged from Yaxley's cold, contained anger, to Umbridge's visible, white hot rage; and Bellatrix didn't appear to be as mad, though she was certainly prepared for a fight.
"Now before you try to kill us, there is a matter of diplomacy I must discuss. Much of North America is already inflamed by the footage we recovered in conversation; but I must confess, we simply weren't satisfied just that, so I took the liberty of littering the entire building with cameras immune the magical scanners. We have wonderful professors at the Edmonton Academy of Magical Sciences. Now of course we wouldn't want the general public to have access to these tapes or anything, they might do something radical like start trade wars or humanitarian aid packages or back the order of Phoenix, but my boss was very stern with me. He said that he must release the tapes immediately and that it is a matter of preserving Democracy; I had my work cut out for me. Fortunately though, I managed to convince him to not release the tapes, provided of course no one who attended this concert is arrested in any way. Politicians, I detest them, don't you."
Bellatrix pushed aside Umbridge who had taken out her wand and put hers at Mathew's throat.
"Dolores, don't met this man provoke you further; besides, I'm much better at torture than you."
"Bellatrix, we don't have need to resort to violence with the Americans, I can get exactly what we want without it."
Rosier pushed passed Bellatrix with his usual suave movements followed by several other faceless Death Eaters. He had on a very suave blazer that he had just purchased, no doubt to stand out in the muggle world for all the right reasons. He also stood out in the room, where besides the wizard's robes; there was Umbridge's pink sweater, the Doctor's tweed jacket and bow tie, Chell's grey fall jacket, and Mathew's leather Jacket— which did also make him look rather chic.
"I'm Canadian actually. I know Minimus, Pinkeye, and Squealer over there, and I've already dealt with enough Napoleons for a lifetime. So what shall I call you?"
"Ed Rosier, though George Orwell may call me Whymper, and I believe they call you Mathew Williams."
"Correct, so I assume you see no difference between pig and man."
"Oh let me assure you that I see plenty of difference between pig and man; though the pigs certainly would not see it, even if they think that they are man." He turned to Chell, knelled down, and put his hand on her cheek as if they were to incite a romantic situation of some kind. "Well I didn't expect to see you again, I thought considering what glorious events transpired that you'd offer some form of greeting. Will you not speak darling?" His voice was elegant, suave, romantic, and only the slightest bit vindictive.
Bellatrix pondered whether his jaw would be alright after Chell punched him lightly with her right hand, the metal one. He recovered relatively quickly though and proceeded to stand and ruffle up Chell's hair as if she was a child. "Now Matthew" he began. "You must keep your dogs in line, or how else are we supposed to have a diplomatic conversation."
Mathew's hand crept for his wand as glanced at the television. "I assume you heard my terms already."
"I did, but you must understand, in order to ensure my leniency towards the callous action performed this evening; it would only be right for you to offer a gift."
"What kind of gift?"
"Your flute would suffice, and then the deal will be struck, and you and your band may be on your way."
Mathew gave a sad smile and spoke very quietly "alright." He then proceeded to stand up in a feigned drunken stupor, lurching over and whispering something to the Doctor. Taking the flute off his belt, he handed it to the Rosier.
"Ah good, now before you go, Gideon Crumb, test it for me; now what should he play Mathew."
"That wasn't part of the deal."
"Ah yes, but I would just hate for you to have accidently given me the wrong flute or something, I'd hate to think that someone like you would swindle me; but you are an intelligent man probably, and intelligent men might try to be clever. I mean all he has to do is go into the future 1 minute."
Mathew sighed and regretfully looked up at Gideon. "Play the first 7 notes of the A scale in thirds, and hit the button at the end of the flute."
Rosier handed the flute to Gideon, and stepped back under a light. Gideon played: A, C#, B, D, C#, E, and D—a perfect fourth—and pressed the button; but nothing happened.
"I have had enough of your diplomacy Rosier, Avada Kedarva!" Bellatrix aimed the killing curse straight at Mathew Williams, and Chell turned her head, only to turn it back to see the Doctor having activated his sonic screwdriver, which drew the spell.
"My sonic screwdriver can attract the energy beam and convert it into pure compressed artron energy, perfect for recharging it."
"Whew, I'm glad that worked."
"What kind of magic wand is that!?" Bellatrix shouted.
"It's not any kind of magic wand, it's a sonic screwdriver—a scientific instrument."
"Doctor, it's a magic wand." Chell handed her paper to the Doctor.
"Nonsense!" he declared as he threw the paper away, hitting Umbridge in the head.
"I believe we have finalized the proceedings, but we really must be going now, so if we may be on our way."
"Not so fast, you're not going anywhere." Yaxley snatched the Screwdriver out of the Doctor's hand unnoticed, for no one had bothered to pay him one iota of attention. He himself had grown tired of the proceedings that had unfolded with Rosier. He had worked hard to perfect his imperious curse for years for the purpose of mind control on the minister, and he was not going to let some relic from days gone past take his position as his lord's right hand man. He was the head of the department of Magical Law Enforcement and he was the officer, judge, and jury.
"Expelliarmus!"
Mathew used the disarming charm to cast the screwdriver out of Yaxley's hand, hoping it would be caught by the Doctor. And it was caught fortunately enough, though not by who Mathew had hoped had caught it. Mathew was about to react but he hesitated; Yaxley had his wand to the Doctor's throat; Bellatrix to Chell's; Umbridge had her wand pointed at him; and the other death eaters had the rest of the band covered. They were waiting for someone to start something
"If this screwdriver could stop a killing curse, I wonder; what else can it do?" Rosier pointed the screwdriver at an overhead light and started fiddling with it, and found different actions would be performed depending on how he hit the buttons, for what duration with each amount of pressure, what order; he managed to change the brightness, change it back, change the color of the light, and finally short out the light. All was silent, even the Television as the episode of Seinfeld was over. "Ah, just the right setting; thank you for the gift."
He pointed the screwdriver at Mathew's wand, pressed the button combination, and… nothing happened. He tried it again. Still nothing happened.
"It doesn't work on wood," the Doctor said. "It's the only thing it can't do; I've been meaning to fix that for quite a while now."
"Chell," said Mathew while putting his wand away and putting his bass in playing position. "If you could grab the screwdriver, then we can be on our way."
"Now Mathew," began Rosier. His voice was a bit shaken, which he was not used to. "I believe that all a man would need is sight to know that you aren't going anywhere."
"Well, I'd think that someone with sight would notice that I'm playing the Seinfeld theme song at the same time as it is in the show so you hear the sound is coming from the TV speakers over the bass amp. Now you have the strongest available hand Chell."
Chell reached to grab for the screwdriver as Mathew finished his rift. Chell was able to easily yank the screwdriver out of Rosier's hand. Her timing though was a highly improbable timing by any standard. She grabbed the screwdriver before the group time traveled, but Rosier still had his hand on it as Mathew activated the device and they traveled, and Chell had freed his hand from the Screwdriver in mid travel so to speak. The Death Eaters saw that the couch had disappeared with everyone who had sat on it and Rosier, and when the couch appeared at its destination, the travelers had their sonic screwdriver, but no Rosier.
Mathew stood up. "Make yourselves at home; I'll go crack open the Vodka from the 15th century."
"What century?" asked Gideon.
Mathew checked his digital calendar, noting that he had only been gone a week this time, which was pretty good overall, but didn't beat his record of 3 days. "I mean it's 244,998, it's had more than enough time."
Calais Maine, Saturday Night (which is one of the easternmost border crossings between the USA and Canada for all you geography nerds)
Oh how he hated very much to drive on bloody American roads; what kind of sense does it make to be on the right side of the road and not the left. And he had realized from much more driving in states than he'd ever want to do that the states in "New England" in the northeastern United States had some of the worst drivers in the country, almost as bad as the frog's drivers. They drove through stop signs, cut you off, why do they even bother with traffic regulations if no one follows them. It didn't help the peeved driver's mood that his grey suit, though suave, was a tad uncomfortable. It had been on loan from his brother Ianto for quite some time now, who had always had exceedingly good taste in wardrobe. His spiky blond hair seemed even more punk than usual, quite unbecoming on the gentlemen who appeared to be 20 something anyway. All of this complimented his exceedingly thick eyebrows, which his friend often taunted him about.
And on top of all that, it was pouring rain outside.
A call to his friend's boss had told him where his friend had rented a house. He was in a relatively nice two story house, the kind that would have the old New England Charm, a front porch, and be surrounded by forest, the kind that any normal person would want.
To his dismay, the house was surrounded by an overgrown thicket with a driveway, a small yard, and no porch or anything to shelter him from the rain when he went up and rang the doorbell; but to his surprise, the door was opened almost immediately. The man who opened up looked to be about 19. He had hair that was two tinted, orange and blond; and violet eyes and a curly adhoge. He wore glasses, jeans, a green hoodie, and a cast over his left arm. He appeared to know the Brit, and spoke to him in a voice barely above a whisper."
"Hi Arthur, what are you doing here? The meeting's not till…"
"Alfred what happened to you!" Arthur exclaimed.
"Eh, Arthur, well I'm not exactly…"
"What reckless thing were you doing to break your arm like that!?"
"But, Arthur I'm…"
"Hey Iggy! How's it hanging?"
The boisterous appeared in the doorway with a loud ruckus and an even louder voice— pushing his Canadian counterpart to the side. The Brit meanwhile was flustered that he had confused the two, Alfred and, what was his name… it'd come to him.
"Hello Alfred. There is a very important matter we need to discuss, one that does not involve your nicknames for me."
"Coarse Dude; hey Brohas, can you get a Buzzz Cola for me and Iggy, he's gonna join us. So Iggy, you going to stand in the rain all night or come in?"
"Not if you are blocking the doorway, and how many times do I have to tell you not to call me Iggy!"
"Fine chill dude, I'll take your coat or something like that."
Arthur walked in and handed his coat to Alfred.
"Why didn't you come in sooner; this coat is completely soaked!"
"I was waiting for you to invite me in, that is the polite thing to do, though I should not be surprised that you forgot that."
"Yeah, I don't try to relive the 19th century, and I'm sorry you have a problem with that." He then proceeded to throw his coat onto the back of a chair with surprising accuracy, though he was a tad annoyed. It had been a long week of injured twins and atvs and endless woods that did not especially entertain him, and he was nearing his wits end.
Arthur of course was also one to get annoyed, and he had also had a long day; so he did not take too kindly to the misplacement of his coat.
"Is there a coat rack for my coat, or do those not exist in Calais Maine?"
"Sorry, I'm renting this House, and I don't want to ruin the antique, rented coat rack with your wet coat."
"I'm sorry Alfred, but I have lived all my years under the belief that everything has its place. The nobility have their place, the commoners have their place, and so does my coat; and it's not the back of a chair."
"Seriously, why are you being more anal than usual?
"I don't appreciate you barging into London to play protest songs with a wizarding rock band with telling me. You nearly got hundreds of people arrested with that stunt. That is not how I raised you to behave!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, but you have no right to glorify my childhood so you can scold me for not embodying it."
"Alfred F. Jones, don't you dare criticize my parenting! Do you think I wanted to spend all my time with Allistor and Ianto!?"
"That is…"
"Arthur, the tea is on." A quiet voice interjected.
"Thank you…uh…"
"Matthew"
"Yes Matthew, sorry"
"So why are you here? The meeting isn't till tomorrow."
"Yes, but I have an important matter to discuss with your brother; specifically why he came into London without my knowledge and nearly got hundreds of my citizens arrested."
"I did what!?"
"I saw someone on stage with the Twisted Sisters, and it could not have been anyone but you."
"Twisted Sisters? Are you having a relapse of your punk addiction?"
"I do not have a punk addiction!" Both the questioner and his soft spoken brother noted that he had said that too quickly. "And I have proof that you were in London, look at this"
Arthur Kirkland pulled out a photo that showed a person with semblance to Alfred playing bass.
"Whoa! How is that picture moving!?"
"It's magic Alfred. Now why were you in London?"
"That's not me."
"What?"
"I mean we kinda look alike, but it looks much more like my bro. What do you think?"
"I think that looks more like me, what do you think Arthur?"
Arthur looked at the photos and then he looked at the nearly twins. One could easily mistake one for the other even though they weren't identical. And the picture matched Matthew perfectly, aside from the arm.
"Matthew?" The Brit was no longer mad or angry, but curious. Matthew would never normally act that reckless, it was completely out of character. Though no one ever seemed noticed him, so how could anyone know what he is like. The only people who didn't ignore him and never mistook him for Alfred were Katyusha, Francis, Allistor, Ianto, Emil, Gilbert, and of course Alfred. And he never got mad about it; or at least he never snapped. Well Rather, he rarely snapped, for Arthur could think of two situations in his life that could make him snapped: in arguments over Hockey, which were most common with Alfred, and another battle he had partaken with Alfred that Arthur didn't like to think about.
"It couldn't have been me; I broke my arm yesterday, though I'd think that someone could tell you why?"
"Hey don't be such a wus about it. We were only playing catch."
"You were throwing it faster than a fastball from Rheal Cormier."
"I'm pretty sure anyone can throw a fastball faster than Rheal Cormier. Greg Maddux is the one who can't be beat."
Arthur stared blankly at the pair of them, for he never was interested nor had he ever understood North American sports. He chose to end this quarrel.
"So neither of you was in London yesterday?"
"No" they said in unison, though America continued the comment with: "why would I need to go to London when I could see Big Ben right now with you here?"
"Shut up you Bloody Wanker! Anyway, if neither of you were in London; then I guess I should be going."
"Do you want to stay for a movie?" Matthew asked.
"Yeah we're going to watch this totally awesome war movie called 'The Rebel Flesh,' and you just gotta join us! I've never seen it before, but Matthew said it's really good." He then leaned towards Arthur's ear to whisper, though it had more than enough volume to defeat the purpose of whispering. "I'm not sure though. I mean, how could he make a war movie?"
"Well I did, and you can stop acting all shocked about it. And can you get Arthur his tea and a Buzzz Cola for me."
Now there was a study in contrasts. No one had to strain to hear Alfred's whisper, but you had to be attentive to understand Matthew's speaking voice.
"Sure thing Brohas!"
Matthew put the DVD in the player. "So do you want to watch the movie?"
"I'd rather not. You know how patriotic he gets while watching war movies."
"Oh I don't think he'd be any sort of bother."
"Do you remember when he showed us Saving Private Ryan? He had a gun and he was firing blanks at the Germans on the movie screen."
"Well, it is true that this movie has a war in it, but I don't think Alfred will be feeling patriotic in the least by the time it gets going."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't tell me that you've never seen a horror movie with him before?"
"I haven't in fact."
"Ah, I guess he only trusts Kiku and me not to think less of him because of it. After you've been around a sugared up Alfred, it is immensely satisfying to show him this type of movie. You should join us."
"Alright, I suppose I'll join you."
"Iggy you're joining us! Great let's get it started."
The Rebel Flesh opens to the tail end of a war; where the bombing of cities leaves only those rich enough to flee them alive, leading them to create Clones to do the dirty work that would have normally been done by the poor. The rich live a fantasy life until the clones start to rebel and the rich are imprisoned in their own mansions by, themselves. And as the pigs started to turn on each other; Arthur began to notice the twins differing reactions. Alfred was slowly losing his composure, and appeared to be trying to hold back his screams. Arthur had never seen him lose his composure, not even on that day they visited those French beaches. Matthew was meanwhile smiling satisfied, enjoying the movie. Then the clones began to mutate, they weren't stable. And that is when he heard him scream. Alfred was scared out of his wits, and he could not hold it back. Arthur was starting to get scared for his friends sanity, and soon Arthur started to cuddle with his "friend", which did help sooth Alfred. Matthew gave him a very subtle, knowing smile. This continued for a while longer, until suddenly there was a large crashing sound that caused Matthew to look away from the TV.
"That wasn't in the movie." Matthew paused said movie, and Alfred began to regain his confidence."
"What do you think that was? It sounded like something bloody well shattered." Arthur remarked.
"But what could it be?"
"Well it's probably not anything important. If you want to check though, that's fine by me."
"Don't fear bro, I'll investigate the origin of this sound, cause I'm the hero!" Alfred then quickly left the couch and started to run up the stairs and check the rooms, probably to save face with Artie if anything.
"I think you two are perfect for each other." Matthew said.
"Well, I'd appreciate knowing how that thought ever crossed your head." Arthur responded.
"Who else did he cry to in his only moments of fear, and I think this is good for him. He's getting better at dealing with these types of movies when you're around."
"Can you still keep it a secret? You know how everyone else will react. Especially the frog, god knows what he would say."
"Probably top or bottom, but knowing mon grand frère Francis, answering that question is probably what would introduce him to the relationship. Either way, I'm not going to be his first source of information."
"Ahhh!"
The scream surprised both Arthur and Matthew, putting them on edge. Then came a sound neither of them expected, a gunshot; they both sat in disbelief.
A second shot fired; they ran for the stairs.
A third; they began ascending the stairs.
A fourth; they reached the landing.
A fifth gunshot; with slight hesitation, Matthew opened the door…
Mathew's House, 244,998
"This is the best Vodka I've ever tasted, where did you get it!?" Myron had a screwdriver in hand as he was talking to Mathew, who was drinking a white Russian. He was the only one who had actually drunk anything before the party, but that didn't stop him from drinking more alcohol, and he was quite fond of the White Russian. Chell sat next to him.
"Borrowed it from Ivan the Terrible's personal stash, let me tell you; the less technologically advanced a society is, the better the alcohol. It does hold out quality for a while until like the 55th century give or take, but by this one it just isn't worth drinking anymore. I blame Prohibition, all the good brewing techniques were lost to time and now there is just the cheap stuff that costs a fortune."
"Well then I guess we should be calling him Ivan the Awesome then."
"Ah, I had a friend I used to call Ivan the Awesome." He raised his glass: "To Ivan then, all the Ivans."
"To Ivan" Myron responded, finishing his drink. Chell meanwhile, could not find herself sharing in the festivities.
"Why did you steal his vodka?" Chell wrote
"Because he tried to steal my life; I think it's a fair trade."
Chell thought for a second, and began to write a response, which she was about to hand to Mathew; but alas he was now talking to Gideon Crumb. Chell put the note in her pocket, and her fleeting interest turned to the conversation they were having.
"Of course it was bullshit, and they never doubted it for a second. I really should have lined their halls with cameras though, but I could barely hold the enchantment on the glasses in that building."
"I suppose it would be a problem. Do you know what happened to that Doctor friend of yours?" Gideon's delivery of speech struck Chell as odd. She had expected a deadpan with his words, but he came off as rather bored of the whole thing. Granted, the amount of people Chell had encountered was a pretty low number, but they had just time traveled. He shouldn't sound like he was watching one of the Fast and the Furious Movies on Cable while Ironing.
"I think he said that he needed to ask a Roman at a Pond something; I don't think I caught all of it when I took him to his Time Machine. You've seen how fast he can talk."
"He's quite the abnormal fellow isn't he?"
"I guess? Maybe Chell would have a better idea of that."
"Who?"
"Take a moment to acknowledge the person that is literally 2 feet away from of you that you would have noticed if you had bothered to look down."
"And what do you mean by abnormal?" Chell wrote. She stranded as she handed the paper to Gideon. She did not wish to be looked down upon.
"Oh you know he does wild gestures when he speaks, he doesn't know any social graces; if I didn't know better I'd say he's an alien." Gideon commented.
"Yeah, he's an alien; why else would he do refer to us as humans." Mathew finished his White Russian.
"Really?"
"Gideon I have something to show you. So if you could please follow me. You wanna come too Chell?"
Chell shrugged with a casual indifference that said yes.
"Alright then"
Mathew led the three down a hallway to the front door of his house, which he opened to reveal a very odd looking town. The buildings were made from either quartz or metal and the streets were paved in granular topaz, making everything sparkle brilliantly. This formed a stark contrast to the lush forest that took up every other inch of ground not needed for civilian usage. The trees that made it acted much more like a thicket really, and they certainly did not look of Earth origin –what kind of Earth trees tower above you with blue-green trunks and floppy looking leaves and vine like protrusions. Chell had found it odd that there were no windows in the room where they lounged, but now she couldn't see how there could be windows, at least when you didn't have the time to actually try to see the details in the wall of green pigment.
There also seemed to be a lot of walkers out on the road, though most of them weren't human. There was a Terileptil jogging (teleporting everywhere had been out of vogue since the 2401st century), a Vinvocci dealing in squash from a cart-kiosk (a mechanical hybrid between a cart and a kiosk invented by Star Hollows in the 217th century), and a Ribosian arguing over the price of said squash with the Vinvocci. In fact the only human was a troubadour playing a portable electronic keyboard near the cart-kiosk.
Chell was rather intrigued by the whole scene, and the alien landscape fleshed a small smile out of her. Gideon, however, was not rescued from his indifference.
"Hmm, so this is the future?" Gideon muttered.
"Only if you're looking from the past," responded Mathew.
"I think I'd rather stick to the present." Gideon walked back into the house so he did not have to see the future before him.
"What's his problem?" wrote Chell.
"Some human's are like that, unable to bother themselves with something exciting. He plays the bagpipes after all." Mathew though back to his old friend Allistor, who would argue him on this point to the death.
"But doesn't he play flute?"
"I had hope too, come on, let me show you the town…"
The troubadour meanwhile was beginning a song by Carol King, so Mathew staggered his sentences between lyrics:
Wanting you the way I do
"This planet didn't used to have any life on it at all."
I only want to be with you
"Before the 4th Great and Bountiful Human Empire gave a loan"
And I would go…
"To Nadie Sakih"
To the ends of the Earth. Cause, darling, to me that's what you're worth.
"To build a hospital planet, 3/4th of the surface."
Where you lead,
"Is the hospital itself"
I will follow
"1/8th is"
Anywhere,
"A giant reservoir"
That you tell me to. If you need, you need me to be with you, I will follow
"And this"
Where you lead
"Is the other 1/8th"
If you're out on the road,
"All of the dense vegetation here"
Feeling lonely, and so cold
"Acts as an oxygen factory"
All you have to do is call my name and I'll be there on the next train.
"Some of the staff lives here,"
Where you lead,
"While some commute"
I will follow
"And that leaves people like me"
Anywhere,
"To provide goods and services"
That you tell me to. If you need, you need me to be with you, I will follow,
"For visitors and residents"
Where you lead
"Anyway I deal with museums, let me show you the site."
By then they had turned a corner and the song had faded from their ears, and they arrived at the museum. It stood out like Matthew's house in that it was made from wood, not the green wood, but more traditional brown Earth wood. Many considered the building itself an antique.
"That is the entire point, young lass. People will notice it and know that they've found the best history museum in the entire constellation."
Lorelei Keith, despite looking to be in her 70s (by contemporary Earth standards, she was actually 120), walked and spoke rather spunkily and passionately. Her energy radiated with a youthful vitality, and yet, her age showed, but in a very good way. Think Betty White. Chell was certainly more charmed in the staff room of the museum then she ever could be by the 1990s party guests.
"What are you talking about; we're the best in the entire Galaxy Mom." Rory Keith was much younger than her mother, at the age of 19. She was quite chipper, though it felt like she would be much more reserved if there was more than one stranger in the staff room, or if that stranger was not brought by Mathew Williams.
"You're much too modest" claimed Mathew, "this is surely the best History Museum in the entire Great and Bountiful 4th Human Empire."
"What, are you curator?" Chell's penmanship by this time had become rather accomplished and quite quick.
"No, I only help add variety to its collection. Speaking of which, I recently attained this product called the Google Glass."
"Let me see lad." Lorelei was a historian by career, and she did not mealy wish to display old modules of media chips. It didn't take Rory long to blush at her mother's geeking out over such ancient technology that would only be found in a place like the British Museum, which was currently undergoing expansion. They were adding a new moon to its second planet.
"Mom, you probably shouldn't get too excited, it would be a risk if we added it this soon."
"Why would that be if it's so rare?" Chell handed the paper to Rory, who then handed it off to her mom.
"Sorry, I can't speak late 2nd Millennial English, let alone read it."
"Though the name is wrong, that form of English was still used well after the 2nd Millennial. But I can read it nonetheless." The late 2nd Millennial to the early 3rd millennial was her favorite period of Earthen History, so Lorelei was quite fluent in the language.
Lorelei donned her spectacles— she never had gotten internalized retina expanders, corroded the eyes her physician always said. "We can't have too many ancient artifacts out at a time" she began. "Otherwise the feds may realize that we've got a time traveler supplying us."
Chell gave her a look asking for context.
"The Emperor ran into some men claiming that they were from the 51st century about 5 millennia ago, said they were time agents or something like that. Well the meeting did not go well and now there is some sort of barrier that they created around the empire, strong enough to keep out most time travelers."
"It actually only keeps out vortex manipulators not programmed to already bypass it. I helped program it; keeps the time agents from out of my life. It may throw off my flute, but that's life."
"If you made the barrier, why would the empire care if you time traveled." Chell handed the paper to Mathew; she noticed she was running low on paper
Matthew Snickered, "right now, all they know is that Ferris Bueller lives in a wooden house that from above fits with the view of the museum to form its logo. They also might notice on a census that I work for the museum, and I always pay taxes for that salary. And that is all they need to know. Anyway, I'll deliver the favorite jacket of President Clinton in 3156 later then."
"You have his actual Jacket!?"
"Well his Ganger's."
"It will do, young lad."
"Please, I'm turning 30 soon."
"Oh you'll always be my little boy, but I won't embarrass you in front of your girlfriend."
Chell and Mathew both were taken aback by the statement, both simultaneously looking at each other and then simultaneously shaking their heads.
"No, no we're not together; at all… we're just friends."
Chell nodded to his statement.
"Oh of course you are. Just don't tell Rory that."
Chell then noticed that Rory had left the room, as she was now reentering the room in different attire.
"Too late mother; I'm picking dinner tonight."
"You we're betting on our relationship status?" Mathew asked.
"Well I wanted to go to Antonioli's, but mom insisted on Al's Pancake World."
"Lorelei, since when do you want pancakes over pizza, I'm always the one insisting on Al's Pancake World." Mathew said.
"Oh, Al got sick of pancakes, so now he's serving interplanetary cuisine." Lorelei said.
"What kind?"
"Zanak cuisine I think, it changes by the week." Rory spoke rather unappetizingly.
"Hey, don't talk smack about my Zanak fries as if they're from Metebelis III," her mother protested.
"Anyway, I've got to get to classes. Goodbye." Rory started to leave the house
"Tell me if you see any cute boys." Shouted Lorelei as Rory shut the door. The house remained silent for the next few moments.
"She's growing up. My baby is growing up. She's going to be a doctor one day." Lorelei said wistfully. "Anyway I have work to you that you distracted me from, and I really must get to it. Drop by later with the coat, will you?"
"Yes I will goodbye." Mathew and Chell departed back to the house for lack of a better place to go. They heard quite a bit of hoopla as they unlocked the door, it was Myron who first noticed them coming in.
"Hey Mat, the Doctor showed up right after you left, and he managed to get Gideon to smile."
"How did he manage that?"
"Probably his dancing, it really has made him the life of the party."
Myron pointed towards him and they saw his dance, Chell gave a disapproving shake of her head and marched over to him intending to stop the abomination known as 'the Drunken Giraffe'.
"Great job on her" Myron said to Mathew.
"What?" Mathew said quite soft spokenly.
"The Girl, Chell, great job. Too feisty for my tastes, but still, ya scored big man. I never could have gotten a girl like that."
"Um Myron, we're just friends."
"Oh just friends, I'm sure you are." Myron gave Mathew a suggestive smile; Mathew made haste in his departure.
"Oh hi Mathew," said the Doctor as he came over. "Wonderful party, but I'm afraid we must be off, immediately apparently. Well, obviously immediately includes the time I have to tell you we're going, but you get the message. We have to bring back the band after all."
"Ugh Doctor, I'm afraid that something has come up, so I can't be joining you. I'll take them home so you need not bother." Mathew offered.
"Well alright then, so goodbye, I suppose I'll see you later; or earlier, my life can get quite complicated like that."
"Goodbye." Chell wrote, handing him the paper and putting her hand in her pocket
"Um, Doctor; do you have any way I can keep contact with you; a phone or something?" Mathew asked.
"Ah yes, of course I have a phone. This is a phone box after all. Why wouldn't I have a phone? Chell, can I borrow your paper."
Chell grabbed the paper in her pocket and handed it to the Doctor with a pen. He wrote the number on the paper and handed it to Mathew.
"Well goodbye." The Doctor then led Chell the corner of the room where he parked the Tardis and they went inside. As the Doctor began to fiddle with its controls, Chell wrote out a question she had stored in the back of her mind.
"Doctor," he read after Chell handed him the note. "There was a woman who said she couldn't understand English, and yet when Mathew spoke to her in English, she understood just fine."
"Well that was probably the Tardis translation circuits. They get inside your head and can translate every language, so you can talk English all you want and everyone will understand you. Well you can't talk and it doesn't really work on writing unless it's in short range, but we can work around that, don't you think so?"
Chell reached for more paper but found the journal to be empty aside from the Face's instructions which she pocketed. She then showed the empty journal to the Doctor.
"You're out of paper. Well come to think of it, I think I have the solution to both problems. Hold on Chell, we're going to Barcelona."
Mathew saw the Tardis fade away and turned his attention to the number he had been given. Looking at one side, he saw the number but also the markings of text on the other side. He flipped it over and saw a clear note written out in Chell's handwriting:
"Is it right to steal from others when they try to steal from you?"
Mathew took a seat on the couch, and as the party proceeded around him, with its loud and drunken guests. He sat in silence though, for the first time that day, alone with his thoughts.
Carol King's: "Where you Lead"
www . youtube watch?v=hoNEJyuWhUI
And if you were wondering what the Drunken Giraffe looked like (and the Doctor for that matter)
www . youtube watch?v=Y2CMZFIa4sU
Guest Review Time:
Random Name said:You know, it's rare to find good crossovers like this one with great plots . Please keep up the great work
And I say thank you Random Name I certainly will do my best, and you're only at the set up of the grand overarching plot, just wait.
Oh and a note to Readers who haven't heard of a Magic School Bus. It is among the greatest kid shows ever, and it's coming next chapter, so if you feel like feeling deep seated Nostalgia for childhood even though this wasn't part of it, watch it (plus you may just learn something).
And I'll end on a teaser for the Next Episode
The Doctor gets blast from his past when he attends the wedding of the most unusual couple from Victorian England. But when an unexpected presences threatens to ruin the wedding, and the entire Earth, the Doctor and Chell must cope with a Floozy Frenchmen, a Violent Butler, and a Mysterious School Teacher. Will the Doctor have his cake and eat it too in My Big, French, Silurian Wedding.