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Sep. 8th, 2008 01:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
adiva_calandiaNothing like crackfic on a Monday afternoon, amirite?
Title: Directive?
Fandom: Doctor Who plus one. (Ten and Rose-era, for no other reason than that I've been watching s2 and like Rose.)
Rating: G
The utter hush outside the TARDIS was terribly disconcerting, but not as disconcerting as the angular brown mountains rising up on every side. Rose glanced around, took a deep breath of the new air -- and promptly had a coughing fit.
"Right!" The Doctor stepped out behind her, hands in his pockets, looking around with interest. "Hello!"
"Where are we?" Rose asked, hoarse.
"Earth! Round about the twenty-ninth century. Practically home for you."
She rolled her eyes, clearing the last bit of dust out of her throat. "This is not my home."
"Ah, well, no," he confessed, "this is America."
"America?" She looked around critically. "Bit . . . cluttered, innit?"
The Doctor frowned. "You know, it is. Not to mention -- do you hear that?"
". . . Hear what?"
"Exactly."
Still frowning, he started down the littered aisle between the mountains, bounding over something that looked like a washing machine buried in a sediment of crushed wax-paper cups. Rose sighed and trotted after him.
"It's too quiet!" he called over his shoulder. "I know we landed in a city -- I mean, look at all this, you don't get junk like this out in the country." He skidded to a halt, and Rose nearly collided with him. "So why's it so quiet?"
Rose bit her lip. "Maybe everyone left."
"No no no," he replied, impatient, "that's not what I mean -- hold on, hold on--"
He reached into his jacket and pulled out the sonic screwdriver. The tip was pulsing faintly -- dah-dit-dit-dit-dah-dit-dit-dit-daaaah-dit-daaaah. Rose and the Doctor leaned in, fascinated.
"What's it doing?"
"Picking up some kind of signal . . ."
"Is it supposed to do that?"
The Doctor shook it next to his ear, frowning. "Maybe I can triangulate the source if I adjust the frequency . . . what is that? Morse code?"
"It's like -- music," Rose put in absently, watching the glow grow and fade.
"Music?" The Doctor blinked at her, and then burst into a grin. "Music! Rose Tyler, you are brilliant! Wait, wait, I think -- we've -- got it! Ha!"
He took off again as the buzz of the screwdriver suddenly grew louder, and Rose, puzzled but intrigued, ran after him. Over abandoned appliances, through drifts of crisp packets and CDs, under precarious-looking structures of collapsed metal struts until suddenly--
. . . eam your spirits seem to turn about! That Sunday shine is a certain sign That you feel as fine as you look!
They exchanged an excited glance as the music grew louder.
"Isn't that Hello, Dolly?" the Doctor called, ducking under an overhanging clothes rack.
"How should I know?" Rose called back, laughing. The sound echoed in the canyon of rubbish.
There was an electronic squeal that somehow sounded surprised, and the music abruptly shut off. The Doctor and Rose slowed to a halt, concealed behind a slag heap. He held up a cautioning finger, and she mouthed sorry!, then nodded questioningly at the corner of the heap. He nodded in turn, and both crouched to peer around the edge.
Nothing moved on the hill in front of them. Rose took in a breath, about to sigh.
A pair of tiny, metal, claw-like hands appeared on top of a toaster, and a moment later, a pair of goggles raised hesitantly over them.
The Doctor's mouth widened into a delighted O. "Oh, look at you."
The goggles made the surprised squeal again and ducked behind the toaster. Rose stifled a squeal of her own and stepped out from behind their hiding place.
"Oh, no, hello! Look, we're not going to hurt you! Hello?"
The goggles rose up again and eyed them warily. The Doctor straightened as well, beaming.
"Look at you!" he repeated. "Oh, come on out, little one, it's all right! I'm the Doctor, and this is Rose Tyler." He spread his hands. "Look, see? Harmless."
The goggles rose a little more. Rose beamed. "That's right. Come on!"
After another moment of hesitation, the goggles lifted over the toaster, and the hands lifted to what ought to be the chin, clasping nervously. There was a grinding noise, and out trundled a boxy little body on caterpillar treads. It rolled down the hill, and then hesitated again a few yards from them.
"Look at you!" The Doctor grabbed his spectacles and squatted to the robot's level, fascinated. "Hello!"
The robot waved uncertainly. Rose stifled another squeal.
"C'mere," the Doctor repeated invitingly, and held out a hand. "I just want to have a look at you. C'mon."
The robot's goggles widened and then focused on his outstretched hand, and it came trundling forward to examine it, any hesitation lost in this new fascination. The Doctor beamed at it; Rose thought if he grinned any wider he might break something. Not that she could blame him.
"What's your name?" the Doctor asked. The robot hurriedly rolled back a few inches, looking up at him. When there was no other response, the Doctor repeated the question. "Your name. Your designation?"
A thoughtful pause. Then:
"WwwwAAAAlleeee," the robot answered.
"Wally! Wall-ee. --Of course!" He smacked his forehead. "WALL*E. Of course. Good to meet you, WALL*E. This is Rose, and I'm the Doctor."
WALL*E looked at Rose, appeared to frown in concentration, and then repeated, "Rrrrrozze."
Rose didn't bother to stifle the delighted squeak this time. "That's right!"
It transferred its attention to the Doctor. "Dock-terrrrr?"
"Bingo!"
WALL*E looked extraordinarily pleased with itself.
"What's it do?" Rose murmured to the Doctor.
"Well, ask him yourself!"
"Oh -- right -- Wally, what do you do?"
WALL*E perked up, rolled back a few feet, and began scooping rubbish into the empty box of its body. "He's a clean-up bot," the Doctor explained quietly. "Earth got so polluted around the twenty-second century that the global government decided it would be easier to move all the humans off the planet, and leave the cleaning up to the machines."
WALL*E stopped scooping, closed up, and started to shake and squat -- like something trying to lay an egg, Rose thought. Then, with a clang, its front popped open and deposited a cube.
"He's a trash compactor!" she exclaimed. WALL*E gave her a slightly affronted look, and she hastily amended, "A really good trash compactor."
"And he's cleaning up the Earth," the Doctor finished, grinning again, "so that you lot can come back here one day." He straightened, and gave the little robot a sharp salute. "Well done, WALL*E!"
WALL*E eyed him with interest for a moment, and then imitated the salute with a little clang of metal on metal. Rose giggled and saluted back.
"Well," said the Doctor, standing up and brushing off his suit, "we mustn't keep him from his appointed rounds. C'mon, Rose." Another grin for the robot. "You keep up the good work, WALL*E."
She stood up, brushing off her jeans, and turned to follow the Doctor. Belatedly, she turned back and waved. "Goodbye, Wally! Good luck!"
The robot waved back. "Rrrrozze! Dock-terrrr!"
She beamed. "Goodbye!"
The Doctor was already striding along the canyon, and she had to run to catch up. From behind her, she could hear the whirr as WALL*E went back to work -- and a moment later, a click and the sound of music.
Beneath your parasol, the world is all a smile That makes you feel brand new down to your toes . . .
Title: Directive?
Fandom: Doctor Who plus one. (Ten and Rose-era, for no other reason than that I've been watching s2 and like Rose.)
Rating: G
The utter hush outside the TARDIS was terribly disconcerting, but not as disconcerting as the angular brown mountains rising up on every side. Rose glanced around, took a deep breath of the new air -- and promptly had a coughing fit.
"Right!" The Doctor stepped out behind her, hands in his pockets, looking around with interest. "Hello!"
"Where are we?" Rose asked, hoarse.
"Earth! Round about the twenty-ninth century. Practically home for you."
She rolled her eyes, clearing the last bit of dust out of her throat. "This is not my home."
"Ah, well, no," he confessed, "this is America."
"America?" She looked around critically. "Bit . . . cluttered, innit?"
The Doctor frowned. "You know, it is. Not to mention -- do you hear that?"
". . . Hear what?"
"Exactly."
Still frowning, he started down the littered aisle between the mountains, bounding over something that looked like a washing machine buried in a sediment of crushed wax-paper cups. Rose sighed and trotted after him.
"It's too quiet!" he called over his shoulder. "I know we landed in a city -- I mean, look at all this, you don't get junk like this out in the country." He skidded to a halt, and Rose nearly collided with him. "So why's it so quiet?"
Rose bit her lip. "Maybe everyone left."
"No no no," he replied, impatient, "that's not what I mean -- hold on, hold on--"
He reached into his jacket and pulled out the sonic screwdriver. The tip was pulsing faintly -- dah-dit-dit-dit-dah-dit-dit-dit-daaaah-dit-daaaah. Rose and the Doctor leaned in, fascinated.
"What's it doing?"
"Picking up some kind of signal . . ."
"Is it supposed to do that?"
The Doctor shook it next to his ear, frowning. "Maybe I can triangulate the source if I adjust the frequency . . . what is that? Morse code?"
"It's like -- music," Rose put in absently, watching the glow grow and fade.
"Music?" The Doctor blinked at her, and then burst into a grin. "Music! Rose Tyler, you are brilliant! Wait, wait, I think -- we've -- got it! Ha!"
He took off again as the buzz of the screwdriver suddenly grew louder, and Rose, puzzled but intrigued, ran after him. Over abandoned appliances, through drifts of crisp packets and CDs, under precarious-looking structures of collapsed metal struts until suddenly--
. . . eam your spirits seem to turn about! That Sunday shine is a certain sign That you feel as fine as you look!
They exchanged an excited glance as the music grew louder.
"Isn't that Hello, Dolly?" the Doctor called, ducking under an overhanging clothes rack.
"How should I know?" Rose called back, laughing. The sound echoed in the canyon of rubbish.
There was an electronic squeal that somehow sounded surprised, and the music abruptly shut off. The Doctor and Rose slowed to a halt, concealed behind a slag heap. He held up a cautioning finger, and she mouthed sorry!, then nodded questioningly at the corner of the heap. He nodded in turn, and both crouched to peer around the edge.
Nothing moved on the hill in front of them. Rose took in a breath, about to sigh.
A pair of tiny, metal, claw-like hands appeared on top of a toaster, and a moment later, a pair of goggles raised hesitantly over them.
The Doctor's mouth widened into a delighted O. "Oh, look at you."
The goggles made the surprised squeal again and ducked behind the toaster. Rose stifled a squeal of her own and stepped out from behind their hiding place.
"Oh, no, hello! Look, we're not going to hurt you! Hello?"
The goggles rose up again and eyed them warily. The Doctor straightened as well, beaming.
"Look at you!" he repeated. "Oh, come on out, little one, it's all right! I'm the Doctor, and this is Rose Tyler." He spread his hands. "Look, see? Harmless."
The goggles rose a little more. Rose beamed. "That's right. Come on!"
After another moment of hesitation, the goggles lifted over the toaster, and the hands lifted to what ought to be the chin, clasping nervously. There was a grinding noise, and out trundled a boxy little body on caterpillar treads. It rolled down the hill, and then hesitated again a few yards from them.
"Look at you!" The Doctor grabbed his spectacles and squatted to the robot's level, fascinated. "Hello!"
The robot waved uncertainly. Rose stifled another squeal.
"C'mere," the Doctor repeated invitingly, and held out a hand. "I just want to have a look at you. C'mon."
The robot's goggles widened and then focused on his outstretched hand, and it came trundling forward to examine it, any hesitation lost in this new fascination. The Doctor beamed at it; Rose thought if he grinned any wider he might break something. Not that she could blame him.
"What's your name?" the Doctor asked. The robot hurriedly rolled back a few inches, looking up at him. When there was no other response, the Doctor repeated the question. "Your name. Your designation?"
A thoughtful pause. Then:
"WwwwAAAAlleeee," the robot answered.
"Wally! Wall-ee. --Of course!" He smacked his forehead. "WALL*E. Of course. Good to meet you, WALL*E. This is Rose, and I'm the Doctor."
WALL*E looked at Rose, appeared to frown in concentration, and then repeated, "Rrrrrozze."
Rose didn't bother to stifle the delighted squeak this time. "That's right!"
It transferred its attention to the Doctor. "Dock-terrrrr?"
"Bingo!"
WALL*E looked extraordinarily pleased with itself.
"What's it do?" Rose murmured to the Doctor.
"Well, ask him yourself!"
"Oh -- right -- Wally, what do you do?"
WALL*E perked up, rolled back a few feet, and began scooping rubbish into the empty box of its body. "He's a clean-up bot," the Doctor explained quietly. "Earth got so polluted around the twenty-second century that the global government decided it would be easier to move all the humans off the planet, and leave the cleaning up to the machines."
WALL*E stopped scooping, closed up, and started to shake and squat -- like something trying to lay an egg, Rose thought. Then, with a clang, its front popped open and deposited a cube.
"He's a trash compactor!" she exclaimed. WALL*E gave her a slightly affronted look, and she hastily amended, "A really good trash compactor."
"And he's cleaning up the Earth," the Doctor finished, grinning again, "so that you lot can come back here one day." He straightened, and gave the little robot a sharp salute. "Well done, WALL*E!"
WALL*E eyed him with interest for a moment, and then imitated the salute with a little clang of metal on metal. Rose giggled and saluted back.
"Well," said the Doctor, standing up and brushing off his suit, "we mustn't keep him from his appointed rounds. C'mon, Rose." Another grin for the robot. "You keep up the good work, WALL*E."
She stood up, brushing off her jeans, and turned to follow the Doctor. Belatedly, she turned back and waved. "Goodbye, Wally! Good luck!"
The robot waved back. "Rrrrozze! Dock-terrrr!"
She beamed. "Goodbye!"
The Doctor was already striding along the canyon, and she had to run to catch up. From behind her, she could hear the whirr as WALL*E went back to work -- and a moment later, a click and the sound of music.
Beneath your parasol, the world is all a smile That makes you feel brand new down to your toes . . .
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no subject
Date: 2008-09-09 12:48 am (UTC)