The next morning, footsteps crept delicately around the hotel room, squeaking the floorboards; the fading scent of coffee swam around in the air, and a faint green luminosity spilled out from the sonic on the set of drawers resting against the wall. This combination of disturbances gradually touched Amy's senses as she slept and, steadily, she awakened.
Her pupils adjusted to the blurred darkness and she elevated herself to make out the Doctor, crouched on a high chair and carefully inclined over a great pyramid of playing cards.
''What are you doing?'' she asked in the tone of a mother light-heartedly interrogating a toddler. Unaware that Amy was watching him, the Doctor toppled from his perch and collapsed his night's work in the process.
''Oops,'' she said wryly.
''Well, Miss Pond,'' said the Doctor, picking himself up, ''next time you spend five hours building the perfect card pyramid don't expect me to compliment you on your efforts.''
''What are you on about? Have you been up all night?''
''I had to keep watch, I'll have you know. As it turns out I can't trust a Scotsman to keep an eye on the door.''
''Firstly, it's Scotswoman, and I'll have you know… I was resting my eyes,'' said Amy defensively. ''You took over and didn't wake me up.''
With these last words Amy folded her arms defiantly as the Doctor picked himself up to his feet.
''Speaking of sleep,'' Amy continued, ''don't you ever do that?''
''Do what?'' answered the Doctor, distracted by locating the light switch with his screwdriver.
''Do you ever sleep?''
''I tried it once,'' said the Doctor. ''Woke up in a space suit in the middle of the Milky Way. On a surfboard of course; I wasn't just floating there, that would have been ridiculous!'' the Doctor laughed croakily. Amy simply looked confused.
''How did you manage that just by going to sleep?'' she asked.
''Amy you're not making any sense at all. Have some coffee,'' replied the Doctor. He was signalling towards the steaming cup on the bedside table to the left of his companion.
Though, as Amy noticed when the Doctor finally found the light switch, it was one of many mugs scattered around the room. Amy sighed and reached for the cup, but just before she could grab it she was startled by a blaring alarm clock and jumped out of her skin, spilling the coffee all over the bed sheets. She recovered and picked up the clock, turning the alarm off and checking the time.
''Seven a-m?!'' she belted. ''What were you waking me up at seven in the morning for?''
''We've got a long walk ahead of us,'' the Doctor said nervously. ''I don't want to be late for breakfast.''
He had to duck to avoid the alarm clock flying towards his head.
...
The hotel was half awake. Every now and then a guest would appear, greet them and carry on, but Amy was half asleep and barely paid any attention. Sluggishly walking back down the abundant flights of stairs, the two discussed the previous evening's events.
''You remember those red lights around the elevators?'' asked the Doctor.
''Scary red lights: check,'' answered Amy. ''What are they? Cameras? Sensors?''
''No they're just red lights. They look cool. It's what's behind them.''
They had reached the landing of floor sixty-seven. An old man with a cane and a pipe dawdled past them, on his way up. He grumbled 'hello' from underneath his pipe.
''It's a signal,'' the Doctor went on, 'but it's travelling from below the lobby, all the way up to the top of the hotel. If you look at the lights for long enough… well, if you're me and
you look at the lights for long enough, you'll see them blink. Just faintly, but enough to see they've got something to hide; something that's probably messing with the wiring of the elevator shafts. That's what causes the flicker and I'm certain that's what caused the elevator to, you know…''
''Try to kill me,'' Amy finished the sentence for him. ''So, if there's something wrong, if the elevators are that dangerous, then why can everybody else use them? What are they, ghosts or something?''
The Doctor halted in his tracks. A thousand thoughts were running along the racecourse inside his head, competing for the finish line; constantly overtaking one another. Tripping. Speeding up. When the champion reached the tip of the Doctor's tongue, he held it and ''Amelia Pond!'' jumped out instead.
''Don't call me Amelia!'' she screamed in return.
''Why not? Brilliant name, Amelia. Amelia Pond,'' the Doctor trailed off and the spark in his eyes faded.
''Now I've gone and said it too many times,'' he said. ''Do you ever get that? Say a word too many times and it just sounds like noise. Amelia. A-me-li-a. A-meee-lia.''
''Doctor!'' Amy shouted, snapping her fingers to regain his attention. ''You just had some kind of epiphany? Honestly I'm surprised you hadn't noticed the hundreds of people missing from the stair case.''
''Oh, I realised Amy, but what you said was more than that. Much, much more.''
He hurried on down the stairs, Amy dashing after him.
''These people are protected, but why?'' contemplated the Doctor, half to himself, half to Amy. ''Hundreds of people, all travelling up and down the elevators but never triggering the reaction you did. Real enough to push buttons, to communicate, but not real enough to be… well, real. Which means, Amelia Pond, brilliant Amelia Pond, that the people inside are only as real as the storm outside!''
''But if the storm didn't affect us then how did we have conversations with the people?'' Amy asked. ''They can't be the same,'' she added to herself.
''Think about it, Amy,'' said the Doctor, growing more excited by the word. ''The storm isn't actually there, but we can see it from inside. We can hear it. It affected us by drowning out our voices. It's real from inside the hotel; it's just not actually there!''
''Oh, that explains it,'' said Amy sarcastically. ''Real, but not there. Of course.''
''Alright, look at it this way,'' said the Doctor. ''The people inside this building don't reside in it. They're all a part of it, and so is the storm. It's all one big happy hotel!''
They had reached the landing of floor sixty-seven. An old man with a cane and a pipe dawdled past them, on his way up. He grumbled 'hello' from underneath his pipe. Amy, still in her sleep deprived state, was only focussing on the Doctor, who was too animated to notice.
''But what does that mean, Doctor?'' enquired Amy. ''How can everyone be one thing if you can talk to them individually?''
The Doctor stopped again, spun on the spot and grasped Amy's shoulders.
His face lit up. ''Ghosts!''
He let go of Amy and rushed off once again. This time, Amy simply stood there, perplexed.
''If you ever decide to explain I'll be right here!'' she bawled. The same old man walked past her for the third time, pipe in one hand and cane in the other. This time, she noticed that he looked a tad familiar.
''D-doctor,'' spluttered Amy, ''what's going on?''
The Doctor rushed back up to where Amy was standing and watched again as the man dawdled past them.
''Everything's… repeating,'' Amy said to herself. The Doctor followed the man with his eyes until he was out of sight. He looked just as dumbstruck as his companion.
''Amy,'' he whispered gently, ''that would be another good question.''