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taxonomites2011-08-17 12:18 pm
rereremembered.livejournal.com) wrote in taxonomites2011-08-17 12:18 pm
08 | [holo / location: sanctuary square] power to the people
Fitz had long kept a little black book, but once he began traveling with the Doctor he'd started using them for vastly different purposes. It had started with San Francisco and carried on to multitudes of other worlds: notes, observations, little details that could topple empires if he got them to the Doctor.
Since coming back to Taxon he'd kept track of names, of comings and going and glitches and the like. He kept an eye on the tablet and made notes, observing like Isherwood in Berlin: I am a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking. It was all information for whenever the Doctor turned up, Fitz was just "our man in the field."
Lately, though, he'd been checking the map and the announcements against his book and crossing out an alarming number of names, jotting down date vanished with a sigh and a little toast of whatever he happened to be drinking. The population was dwindling, and each day that panicky end-of-the-world sense he'd cultivated in his travels across the universe rose in pitch.
He couldn't be idle any longer, it was time to try for a morale boost So he packed up his guitar and gear and headed for the square in the middle of the city, glad the snow of previous days had given way to...autumn. Bloody hell, with the crazy weather it was no wonder he'd taken a page from the Hitchemus playbook.
Once everything was set up he turned his tablet to holo and launched into the uneasy, plaitive opening chords of that Status Quo song, wishing not for the first time that the aliens would snatch up a drummer for once.
"Good afternoon, Taxon!" he began, strumming a few idle notes as he spoke. "That one was for all of you who are missing someone. I know, and I'm sure you're all aware, that lots of people have been sent home lately. For many this is good, for others it's not, and for those of us still stuck here it's...well, we're still fucking stuck here. But we're stuck here together, so let's try and help each other out, yeah?
"Some people have been setting up a shelter for the next time our hosts let the wheels fall off this damn place, and I'm collecting donations at the Dodgy Jammer. Food, clothing, blankets, a replica of whatever weird thing from your world you can't live without, we're stocking it all. Help yourselves, help your neighbors, the tools are in your hands and all that."
Since coming back to Taxon he'd kept track of names, of comings and going and glitches and the like. He kept an eye on the tablet and made notes, observing like Isherwood in Berlin: I am a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking. It was all information for whenever the Doctor turned up, Fitz was just "our man in the field."
Lately, though, he'd been checking the map and the announcements against his book and crossing out an alarming number of names, jotting down date vanished with a sigh and a little toast of whatever he happened to be drinking. The population was dwindling, and each day that panicky end-of-the-world sense he'd cultivated in his travels across the universe rose in pitch.
He couldn't be idle any longer, it was time to try for a morale boost So he packed up his guitar and gear and headed for the square in the middle of the city, glad the snow of previous days had given way to...autumn. Bloody hell, with the crazy weather it was no wonder he'd taken a page from the Hitchemus playbook.
Once everything was set up he turned his tablet to holo and launched into the uneasy, plaitive opening chords of that Status Quo song, wishing not for the first time that the aliens would snatch up a drummer for once.
When I look up to the skiesIt was probably more appropriate for last month, and thank Christ the reflections had stopped teasing him, but it still worked. He could still almost hear the TARDIS materializing under the solo.
I see your eyes a funny kind of yellow
I rush home to bed I soak my head
I see your face underneath my pillow
I wake next morning, tired, still yawning
See your face come peeping through my window
Windows echo your reflectionThe song came to its forlorn, jangly conclusion and Fitz addressed the city.
When I look in their direction now
When will this haunting stop?
Your face it just won't leave me alone
Pictures of matchstick men and you...
Alls I ever see is them and you
"Good afternoon, Taxon!" he began, strumming a few idle notes as he spoke. "That one was for all of you who are missing someone. I know, and I'm sure you're all aware, that lots of people have been sent home lately. For many this is good, for others it's not, and for those of us still stuck here it's...well, we're still fucking stuck here. But we're stuck here together, so let's try and help each other out, yeah?
"Some people have been setting up a shelter for the next time our hosts let the wheels fall off this damn place, and I'm collecting donations at the Dodgy Jammer. Food, clothing, blankets, a replica of whatever weird thing from your world you can't live without, we're stocking it all. Help yourselves, help your neighbors, the tools are in your hands and all that."
[ visual ]
"That'd be brilliant, I think. Centralizing resources would be a good thing. I could meet you there, take an inventory?"