Goodbye, 2064

4

Wednesday, 31st of December

Adam Mitchell had said that Oswin's Christmas present had to wait until New Year's Eve, and that morning he disappeared from the house and drove out of Brighton alone. Oswin didn't know where he'd gone, nor Clara, the Doctor, or Rose, but he'd told them they needed to watch the live broadcast of a CyTech press briefing that evening. So, they were streaming it to the television and all waiting for him to appear. Finally, a little after eight o'clock that night, he did, stepping out onto a podium flanked on either side; one person Clara recognised as CyTech's head of PR, the other was the elected leader of CyTech's large trade union.

"Good evening, everyone," Adam began, barely looking at the cameras as was his typical rhetorical style; it was deeply uncomfortable just to watch him undertake public speaking. "I'm here today because I've got a large announcement to make about the future of the company and, specifically, my role in it going forward." He had a prepared statement, clearly, and his eyes were fixed on that.

"As is widely known, I'm a Manifest, and I've been suspended in a conscious state of cryostasis since the year 2013. In a few months, I'm going to be eighty-seven years old, and I will have been running CyTech for most of my life. My role in the company, as its founder and owner, is complex, to say the least. But I've come to the realisation that I do very little for the wellbeing of the company itself at this point. I've implemented initiatives to help the employees, like paying every single staff member a universal wage that is significantly higher than the national average – including paying myself and all the other executives this exact same wage. But largely what I do for CyTech is what I'm doing now, public relations as the face of the company. I also operate as the CFO and the CEO and have done ever since the death of my previous CFO Diana Goddard in 2048, tragically due to ovarian cancer.

"As as has been widely rumoured, I'm married."

"What's he doing…" mumbled Oswin, watching intently, but not really looking for an answer to that question. "He didn't tell me he was announcing who I am."

"I can't reveal details about my wife, but we've been married for a long time, and she doesn't want her identity to be made public. But I've increasingly been spending less and less time with her, which has only been getting harder as I get older. As I said, I'm now eighty-six, far beyond the ordinary retirement age.

"That's why today, I'm formally announcing that I'm stepping down as the CEO of CyTech. From this point on, my colleague Saanvi Chakrabarti will be assuming a leadership role, insofar as the CyTech Labour Union is, from today onwards, taking control of the entire company and the direction it goes in, and Ms Chakrabarti is the elected spokesperson of the union. CyTech will no longer have a CEO or be organised like a standard company, it will be controlled by its workers for the good of the workers and the public. CyTech has an almost one-hundred per cent unionisation rate, which is a remarkable accomplishment, and I have wholly supported the union from the beginning.

"I'm stepping down not because benevolent CEOs and businesspeople should be a viable route to a democratic socialist society, but because I admit that I, and other CEOs, do very little. Anything a private company creates of value was created by the workers. I no longer own the company, it is in the hands of the workers, where it will remain.

"As for what I'm going to do, I've taken a small job in CyTech's R&D department, working directly on CyTech's innovative tech projects, which is really what I've always wanted to do. I hope I can put my longevity to good use by remaining in the workforce. I'm not taking questions at this time, and a far lengthier, written statement is going to be published in the coming week, further outlining my reasons for handing the company over the union. I'll also be phasing out public appearances and interviews. I understand Ms Chakrabarti has a prepared statement to read, and I hope everybody listens closely to the company's new goals and new structure. Thank you for your time, and Happy New Year." Adam Mitchell took his leave, letting Saanvi Chakrabarti step up to the central podium with a speech of her own. Oswin was staring at the TV, mouth agape.

"The press is going to crucify him for that," said Clara, finding the whole thing highly exciting. "I mean, wow, he's… it's insane how much he's changed." She was sitting on the Doctor's lap in one of the two armchairs, K-9 on the floor at her side.

"He was a knob when I met him, to be honest," said Rose, "But it's not like he needs to work when he can just live on the TARDIS."

"And then he can come here and mooch off us as well," said Clara, "Just like you." Rose glared at her.

"Why did he start going on about politics?" asked Mattie.

"Because I've got to him, that's why," the Doctor boasted, "Finally convinced him that unions deserve all the power and to change his unethical, billionaire ways. Or maybe it was Oswin who did that when they met."

"I don't think I really have anything to do with this," said Oswin.

"He always credits you," Clara pointed out, "He says, 'it was when I fell in love that I realised I don't need any of this money and that I should stop being a scumbag who exploits the poor.'"

"Yeah, he says that, but I don't care enough to talk about political theory," she said, "If you want political theory you can talk to my brother. Fyn's the notorious circulator of communistic pamphlets in the distant future."

"I know, I've got all of his books and his pamphlets," said the Doctor, "Maybe Adam was inspired by your habit of never trying to monetise your inventions."

"Well, why would I monetise them? Everything useful I've ever built has been for the good of somebody around me, I'm not going to start charging. Would you like me to send Clara a bill for fixing your dog?" she quipped. "Why would I make someone pay for… it's just repugnant. I can hardly fathom it. Like charging people for food and water."

"And you say you're not a leftist," the Doctor tutted, "But now you're advocating free food and water for everybody."

"I don't care about your political spectrum, just like I never cared about Fyn's. There are right and wrong things to do, things that benefit people and things that hurt them. If you do something to the detriment of other people, I don't know how you can live with yourself."

"Did he really not tell you he was going to quit his job?" Rose asked Oswin, who didn't much care for politics either.

"He…" she began, thinking, "I've been trying to convince him to do less for years. He's always cagey about it. I'm… I am happy, I'm just surprised." She didn't actually seem happy at all. "I suppose it's a good way to start a new year."

"He could write a book," said Clara, "I'm sure people would buy it."

Oswin sighed, "He's tried before, he's not a very good writer. Besides, what can he say? Most of his life is a secret."

"You could write a book. Write about your philosophies on AI, or that computer you're building."

"No, thank you. I'm not arrogant enough."

"Can we switch this over yet?" Rose asked, bored watching the other speeches, "It's bad enough that we're not going out."

"If you want to go out, go on your own," said Clara. Rose glared at her. "I don't want to go to the pub, I've told you a hundred times. New Year's is depressing."

"At least let me go to the offy and buy some more wine."

"You mean you want me to buy you more wine because you don't have any money." Rose shrugged. "Bloody hell – fine, but you have to come as well."

"I thought we were ordering in?" asked the Doctor as Clara stood up, "It's getting late.

"I'll, um… well, what do you want? We can go to the takeaway while we're out. Rose will help me carry the food. Where have you put my shoes?"

"I haven't touched your shoes."

"You said you were gonna get Chinese a few hours ago," said Mattie, alone on the sofa. She'd been especially withdrawn that day.

"I'll have Chinese," said Rose.

"Well, get up, then. I'm not buying you anything if you're not there. Do you want to come, Matts?"

"No, I'm still in pyjamas. I'm not getting dressed."

"Do you want anything from the shop?"

"Um…" Mattie paused for a long time while Clara found her shoes in the hall, sitting on the arm of the sofa to put them on. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"I literally can't think of a single thing I'd want."

"That's fine. What about you?" she asked the Doctor.

"Anything with chocolate. You choose."

"Are you not gonna ask me if I want something?" said Oswin.

"No, I don't like you enough," said Clara, hitting Rose on the arm so she would move. "Hurry up, I'm starving."

It took Rose another few minutes to actually get ready to go outside, even though going to the shop was her suggestion. But finally she did, joining Clara in the chilly, almost-January air as Clara pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. Clara knew from experience she had just enough time to smoke one before getting to the shop, and maybe another on the way home for good measure.

"Going to the shop is just so… normal," said Rose, walking with her hands in her pockets as Clara blew out smoke. "Not in a bad way, just… maybe I miss it."

"Maybe you miss it?" Clara asked wryly, "What are you doing dicking about here all the time if you don't?"

"I'm keeping an eye on Mattie."

"I'm sure Mattie really needs you to 'keep an eye' on her the five nights a week you stay over. You haven't even left since Christmas Day. Doesn't he notice you're gone?"

"I drop in, usually when you've gone to bed," said Rose, "Besides, your sofa's not that comfy." Adam and Oswin were in the spare room, which meant Rose had the choice of sleeping on the sofa or blowing up an airbed and sleeping in the library. She picked the sofa because of its proximity to the kitchen and the TV.

"And he doesn't want you around more often?" Clara continued to probe. "When the Doctor went back in time for six weeks during the Crash, I almost lost my mind. And we weren't even speaking at the time."

"What were you doing, then? You didn't come to see me."

"Why would I? You've spent our entire lives making it abundantly clear that you can't stand me," said Clara, "Whereas now it's like you're glued to my side."

"I'm not," said Rose, self-consciously taking a step further away. "It's not my fault you don't know how to have friends without trying to shag them."

"Whoever said I'm not trying to shag you? And if you really want to know, we just existed in the same room, the Doctor and I," she explained, "She was there. I was there. We didn't talk to each other. She still cooked all my food and I mostly sulked, read books, and hung around with Oswin. But I missed her every time she wasn't there. I was still just as in love with her as I always have been. Are you?"

"In love with your wife? No, she's too short."

"You know what I mean."

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"I'm asking because I'm worried about you, not to take cheap shots," said Clara sincerely, "Do you understand that? That I actually care about you, that we all do?"

"It's just easier when I see him less. Less chances to get into a fight."

"So you're fighting?"

"Not really. It's mostly me having a go, he just takes it." She sighed, then went on, "But I don't actually know why he annoys me. I don't know what I want, either. Maybe I want the same as you, to get off the TARDIS a bit. I'm sorry if it's inconvenient that I'm there all the time."

"It's not inconvenient at all," Clara assured her, "We like having you. We're just worried about you."

"I said I don't want to talk about it. But obviously, if I did, I'd talk to you," she finally admitted, "Only because I don't have anybody else, though."

"You could always go find Amy. You can travel through time and space at will." Rose didn't answer. "Or am I a better option? See, you do like me, really."

"I'm used to you. You're still a twat most of the time."

"You'll sleep with me one day. Even if it takes a thousand years."

"I won't. I don't want to catch whatever you've got."

Clara went on the defensive, "I didn't know that chlamydia spreads through oral-"

"Yeah, I don't actually want to know about your STDs, Clara.

And I definitely don't want you to give it to me."

"I just said I don't – you know, whatever. I don't care. Chlamydia or not, I still have an extremely hot wife, and that's really all that matters."

"Not if you're riddled, mate," said Rose as Clara flicked her cigarette onto the ground and stamped it out.

During the rest of their sojourn they managed not to bicker too unbearably, and soon enough were on their way back home after stopping off at the nearest Chinese takeaway. Rose got whatever she wanted, while Clara had to remember the Doctor and Matilda's regular orders, which was a struggle because the Doctor ate so much and Mattie was often fussy. It was such a hassle she almost forgot to order her own food.

When they returned to the house the Doctor and Oswin were still downstairs watching a breaking news bulletin about Adam Mitchell's shock departure from CyTech, but Mattie had disappeared.

"Where's Matts?" asked Clara.

"She went upstairs," said the Doctor, "Is that the food?"

"No, it's some dog shit we scraped up off the pavement," she said sarcastically, passing the two bags of takeaway boxes to the Doctor, "Is she just on the loo?"

"She's…" the Doctor frowned, then glanced at Oswin, "Did she say why she was going?"

"No, and it was ten minutes ago now."

"Right…" Clara nodded, "You lot sort the food out, I'll go get her."

"I'll go," Rose interrupted right as Clara tried to leave.

"Are you sure?" asked Clara automatically.

"Am I sure? She's my goddaughter." Rose didn't wait for Clara to argue any further, leaving her stood impotently in the living room not entirely knowing what to do with herself.

"Let Rose go," said Oswin.

"But is she alright?"

"I don't know. Probably not, given the circumstances. But let Rose go. You can come and fuss over me instead; I'll tell you all about how sad I am while you eat food in front of me."

Upstairs, Rose didn't find Mattie in the bathroom so approached the attic stairs instead. "Food's here, Matts," she called up. No response. She gave Mattie a little longer but when no answer came she climbed the stairs and knocked on the door directly. "Matilda?"

"I'm not that hungry," Mattie finally answered, quietly.

"Me either."

"I know you're lying."

"I've lost my appetite, I swear. I couldn't eat a thing right now. Can I come in?" Sensing Mattie was probably going to say no, Rose went in anyway and found her sitting on the windowsill in the wall to the right; she had to look around the side of the door to see Mattie hiding there. Two houses down, Clara's neighbours were having a party that had spilled out into the back garden, visible from the loft. "Do you want me to bring you any food up?" she suggested, "Clara won't mind you eating in your room."

"I really don't feel good."

Rose closed the door behind her and walked over to get a better look at the soiree, "Yeah, I wish Clara had thrown a party as well."

"I don't want a party, I just wanted some fresh air. I don't like New Year's."

"Me either, not anymore. We used to have these crazy parties on the estate, me and your dad would always go. And my mum usually, to be honest. You'd end up just going flat to flat all night and you'd keep running into the same people every time. By the morning, I never knew where I'd wake up – someone's sofa, normally. And then, on New Year's Day 2004, I woke up in your dad's bed, and he was on the sofa." Mattie had always known about Rose and Mickey, and she liked hearing about his youth from her – even if it was a little surreal. Her mother had never been fazed by Rose's presence, anyway.

"Why the sofa? Weren't you going out?"

"No, that was how we… well, it wasn't how we met, we grew up on the same estate, I knew him, but we didn't really talk until then. To be honest, it took me that long to get over Jimmy Stone," she shook her head a little at that memory.

"Who's that?"

"First boyfriend. Started going out with him right at the end of year eleven, barely passed my exams, didn't show up to half of them," she sighed, "I was gonna do A-Levels, you know, but… didn't. It's difficult when you're so young to know what's best for yourself. Then again, you probably don't even remember when you were sixteen."

"Not really. What A-Levels would you have done? I thought you hated school."

"I dunno, really," she said, thinking, sitting next to Mattie on the sliver of windowsill that remained, "I would say English, but I never much liked reading. Don't tell Clara that, she'll probably take the piss."

"She wouldn't do that, she'll just try to convince you to read a book," said Mattie, "She's just a giant nerd, not a snob."

"I was rubbish at maths, so not that. Couldn't do science, either. Could've done RE, that's always been easy. Probably would've just picked BTECs for the others. I'll tell you what, though; I would've been a great student. All that sleeping in until the afternoon, the hangovers, the instant noodles…"

"I don't think you need to go to uni to sleep in and eat instant noodles. You do that already."

Rose laughed a little, "That's true enough."

"What did you do, then? On New Year's Day?"

"I had a go at him, to be honest," said Rose, "But when I finally shut up he told me he was trying to take me home, but I was so drunk I couldn't – or wouldn't – tell him where I lived. Wanted to make sure I was alright. Made me a bacon sandwich, ended up spending the whole day together."

Mattie sighed, "Dad used to let me put Nutella on bacon sandwiches."

"And I know exactly how Martha felt about that."

"That's why he always made my breakfast after she'd gone to work." Mattie leant back against the wall and continued to stare absently out of the window, not quite at the party. Every now and then a firework exploded in the sky. "Do you miss them?"

"Of course I do," said Rose, "Every day. Then I come here, and I see you, and it gets a little bit easier. And I'll tell you something else, your dad loved going out and getting a Chinese on New Year's Eve. He'd be beside himself to see you turning down a perfectly good takeaway."

She smiled a tiny bit, but only for a second. "I don't really want to go back downstairs."

"You don't have to. What's say the two of us hang about up here? Leave them lot to do whatever it is they usually do." Rose always spent the holidays with the Smith-Joneses anyway, for as long as Mattie could remember. "I'll see if I can't come up with any more stories about Mickey."

"I don't know…"

"Let me bring you something, at least. Even if you're still not feeling well."

"You mean so that you can eat."

"Absolutely nothing to do with it."

Mattie relented. Rose disappeared in a golden shimmer and returned barely a minute later with tinfoil containers loaded with all manner of food. Mattie had to admit, it did smell nice – and Rose was right, her dad did always enjoy takeaway on New Year's.

"Are they gonna light any fireworks, do you reckon?" Rose asked, still watching the partygoers through the window (though she'd now dragged Mattie's office chair over).

"I doubt it," said Mattie, "The Becketts live down there and they'll call the police."

"Who are the Becketts?"

"Lawyers, their daughter's in my year at school. She's going out with my friend Steph. Well, they might have broken up last week… Anyway, Hannah's really nice, but her parents are awful. Her dad came here on Halloween and told Clara to force Steph and Hannah to break up."

"Did he? She didn't say."

"She was pissed off, probably doesn't want to talk about it," said Mattie, "She told him to get lost, anyway. But he'll go mad if he says any fireworks on the street."

"Maybe I'll go light a firework in his garden. That'd be pretty funny, wouldn't it?"

"Would it?"

"Don't teenagers prank people anymore?"

"Fireworks are dangerous."

"When I was your age, I didn't care if things were dangerous."

"I don't think you care now, either. I'd like to light a firework in the arcade, to be honest."

"Ooh, interesting. How come?"

"Because they keep ripping me off in there! There's this game, right-"

"Is this about the zombies?"

"Yes," she admitted begrudgingly.

"She tells me everything about you, can't keep her mouth shut. I could sneak in there and smash the machine up, if you like?"

"No, I want to beat it – there's this guy who works there who's in sixth form at school, and he's such a prick. He's power-tripping on the fact he's the assistant manager at a shitty arcade."

"Yeah, I hate people like that. The store manager when I worked at Herrick's was a piece of work, I was actually glad the building got blown up," she said.

"Who blew it up?"

"Who do you think? The Doctor. The day we met. Well, sort of… we really met on New Year's Eve, actually. 2004, again – nearly a full year after I met your dad."

"What happened?" Mattie had finally decided to eat something, much to Rose's relief.

"It was, um, when he regenerated, the Tenth Doctor. He went around to say goodbye to everyone. I was still in a parallel universe, so he went to three months before we met and said hello, instead. Makes me a bit sad to think about it, to be honest… I didn't know who he was, or that he was dying. Still, at least he got the chance to see people off. I know Eleven didn't – but, let's not talk about that."

"You brought it up," said Mattie, who only had very vague and distant memories of Eleven. In fact, she wasn't sure what were her actual memories and what were just things she'd been told.

"Anyway. Break the arcade machine, if you want. Nobody's going to believe you're a real teenager if you never do anything rebellious."

"Aren't you supposed to tell me off?"

"Maybe. But if your dad was here, he would've messed with the machine for you by now, so I'm really just doing what he would've wanted. That's why I'm such a great godmother, obviously. Don't know why Martha was so resistant to it."

"Mum didn't want you to be my godmother?"

Rose laughed a little, "She just didn't want to think about it right away, I had to basically beg. I'm sure you've heard that before."

"Probably."

"Tish will have some New Year stories about Martha, you know. Have you talked to her much?"

"I rang her on Christmas Day. I need to talk to her again though to see if she'll take me to get my hair done, I forgot earlier."

"I'll take you," Rose offered.

"You're going to come with me to a Black salon in London?" she questioned.

"I mean I can take you to London to see Tish and she can take you," Rose explained, "I don't mind dossing about London for a few hours."

"It'll take all day, it usually does."

"That's fine. I can teleport through time and space at will," Rose reminded her, "And I like going back to London, anyway. I could show you the Powell Estate."

"I think it got demolished."

"What?"

"I remember dad saying. Ages ago."

"Well, maybe we'll…" Rose stopped before suggesting time travel, but Mattie knew where she was going anyway.

"Go back in time?" she suggested, "We could go back to when-"

"No," said Rose firmly, and very seriously. More seriously than Mattie had ever seen her. "It's a bad idea. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Why is it so bad? Isn't that the point of time travelling?"

"I've made the same mistake before. When I was first travelling with the Doctor, I convinced him to take me to see my dad. He died when I was a baby, he was hit by a car. I stopped it from happening, and it caused a complete collapse of space-time. And you know something, no matter how much you think you'll feel better… you won't. The only thing worse than saying goodbye to someone once is having to do it again, trust me."

"You got your dad back, though," said Mattie glumly.

"That's…" Rose began, then sighed. "I suppose I did. But they're both gone now, anyway, and I've never taken advantage of time travel. With great power comes great responsibility."

"That's-"

"I know it's from Spider-Man. But it's true. And Spider-Man never travelled back in time to stop his parents from getting shot outside of the opera, did he?"

"That's Batman."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Which one of them can time travel?"

"The Flash, sometimes. But he accidentally changed history too much, in Flashpoint, when he tried to stop the Reverse-Flash from killing his mother."

"Well, exactly, see? Time travel is dangerous. And especially time travelling back to visit your own parents."

"I just want to see them," she admitted, "It's that… it's like, every day that goes by, I'm further away from them. And now it's the new year, and then there will be another new year, and another, and every year I get further away."

Rose paused, heartbroken. "Mattie… you can't think about it like that. As long as you remember them, as long as we remember them, they'll always be close. You're not getting further away."

"What if I start to forget them?"

"That won't happen. And if it ever does, you've still got me, Jack and Clara, the Doctor… and Oswin remembers everything. We all think about Mickey and Martha, all the time, I promise you. And it doesn't matter if it's been one day, a hundred days, or a hundred years, I'll be here to remember them with you. This New Year and every single one yet to come."

Mattie nodded slowly, "Yeah… thanks, Rose. I'm glad you stay so often."

"Me too. Happy New Year, Matilda." Mattie wasn't able to say it back, but she did manage a tiny smile, and that was more than enough for Rose.