Plans Change

The

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I waved at the lizard woman.

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Vastra: “This is not a day for jumping to conclusions. Strax, if you wouldn’t mind?”

(Strax knocks on the TARDIS door. It is smeared with sputum from its previous location.)

Strax: “Hello? Exit the box, and surrender to the glory of the Sontaran empire.”

(A tall grey-haired man opens the door and looks out. Smoke comes out as well.) The Doctor: “Shush.”

(He shuts the door again.)

I snorted.

Strax: “Doctor?”

(The door opens again.)

The Doctor: “I was being chased by a giant dinosaur, but I think I managed to give it the slip.”

(The door shuts again, then is opened slowly.)

The Doctor: “Sleepy?”

Strax: “Sir?”

The Doctor: “Bashful? Sneezy? Dopey? Grumpy.”

(Then he sees the two women and walks towards them.)

The Doctor: “Oh, you two. The green one and the not-green one. Or it could be the other way round, I mustn’t prejudge.”

(Clara appears, very dishevelled. She is wearing a black fitted jacket with an ‘outline of bow tie’ motif and tartan mini-kilt.)

The Doctor: “Oh, you remember, er. Thingy. The, er, the not-me one. The asking questions one. Names not my area.”

Clara: “Clara.”

The Doctor: “Well, it might be Clara. Might not be. It’s a lottery.”

Clara: “It is Clara.”

The Doctor: “Well, I’m not ruling it out.”

(The dinosaur bellows.)

The Doctor: “Oi, big man, shut it. Oh, you’ve got a dinosaur too. Big woman, sorry.”

Clara: “Doctor, listen to me. You, you need to calm down.”

The Doctor turned to me. “I’m not flirting, by the way.”

Clara: “I think something’s gone wrong.”

The Doctor: “Wrong? What’s gone wrong? Have you regenerated?” (to Clara) “I remember you. You’re Handles. You used to be a little, a little robot head, and now you. You’ve really let yourself go.”

(The dinosaur bellows again.)

The Doctor: “Reduce the frequency.”

Clara: “I’m sorry?”

The Doctor: “Your sonic lanterns, turn them down. You’re giving her a headache.”

Jenny: “Giving who a headache?”

The Doctor: “My lady friend. Just an expression, don’t get any ideas.”

Strax: “How do you know?”

The Doctor: “Come on, Clara. You know that I speak dinosaur.”

Clara: “He’s not Clara. I’m Clara.”

The Doctor: “Well, you’re very similar heights. Maybe you should wear labels? Why, why are you all doing that? Why are you? You’re all going dark and wobbly. Stop that.”

Clara: “I don’t think we are.”

The Doctor: “Never mind. Everyone take five.”

(The Doctor closes his eyes, sways, then falls over.)

Clara: “What do we do?”

Jenny: “I don’t understand. Who is he? Where’s the Doctor?”

Clara: “Right here. That’s him. That’s the Doctor.”

Vastra: “Well then, here we go again.”

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(Nightime, with a full moon. At Vastra’s house, the Doctor is now wearing a full length night shirt. Clara and Jenny are listening at the door.)

The Doctor: “It’s simply misunderstandable to me. I don’t know what it is. Who invented this room?”

(He opens the door and Clara and Jenny nearly fall inside.)

Clara: “Doctor, please, you have to lie down.”

The Doctor: “It doesn’t make sense. Look, it’s only got a bed in it. Why is there only a bed in it?”

Clara: “Because it’s a bedroom. It’s for sleeping in.”

The Doctor: “Okay, what do you do when you’re awake?”

Jenny: “You leave the room.”

The Doctor: “So you’ve got a whole room for not being awake in. But what’s the point? You’re just missing the room. And don’t look in that mirror. It’s absolutely furious.”

Clara: “Doctor, please. You have to lie down. You keep passing out.”

The Doctor: “Well, of course I keep passing out. There’s all these beds.” The Doctor complained. He worriedly glanced at Clara. While he did that, I was setting up the bed. “Why do you keep talking like that? What’s gone wrong with your accent? Why?”

Jenny: “Nothing’s wrong with her accent.”

The Doctor: “You sound the same. It’s spreading. You all sound all English. Now you’ve all developed a fault.”

“Doctor.” I spoke up, using my Scottish accent. I went to Brave some time ago, and the accent stayed behind. “I need your help.”

The Doctor: “Finally, someone who can talk properly.”

Terra: “I’m having difficulty sleeping.”

The Doctor: “Oh? Oh, well, I wouldn’t bother with that, I never bother with sleep, and I just do standy-up catnaps.”

Terra: “Oh really, how interesting. And when do you do those?”

The Doctor: “Well, generally whenever anyone else starts talking. I like to skip ahead to my bits. It saves time.”

(Terra gently leads him to the bed and they sit down.) Terra: “Save me time, Doctor. Project an image of perfect sleep into the centre of my mind.”

The Doctor: “What, do you want a psychic link with me? The size of my brain, it would be like dropping a piano on you.”

Terra: “Be gentle, then.”

The Doctor: “I ususlly am with you. Brace yourself. Piano.”

(They put their fingers to the others temple. Boing! Doctor falls back onto the bed, sound asleep.)

Vastra: “I love monkeys. They’re so funny.”

Jenny: “Oh, I see. So people are monkeys now, are they?”

Vastra: “No, dear. People are apes. Men are monkeys.”

(They tuck the Doctor up in bed.)

Clara: “So what now?”

Vastra: “He needs rest.”

Clara: “So what do we do? How do we fix him?”

Jenny: “Fix him?”

Clara: “How do we change him back?”

Vastra: “Jenny, I will be in my chamber. Would you be kind enough to fetch my veil?”

Jenny: “Why, are we expecting strangers?”

Vastra: “It would seem there’s already one here.” (Vastra leaves.)

Clara: “What have I done wrong?”

(The sound of a sad dinosaur drifts into the room.)

Jenny: “The dinosaur doesn’t seem very happy.”

Clara: “What’s wrong with it?”

Jenny: “I dunno. The Doctor’s the one that speaks dinosaur. Excuse me, ma’am. The wife doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Clara: “Where did he get that face? Why’s it got lines on it? It’s brand new. How can his hair be all grey? He only just got it.”

Jenny: “It’s still him, ma’am. You saw him change.”

Clara: “I know. I do. I, I know that.”

Jenny: “Good.”

Clara: “It’s just-”

Jenny: “What?”

Clara: “Nothing. If. If Vastra changed, if she was different, if she wasn’t the person that you liked?”

Jenny: “I don’t like her, ma’am. I love her. And as to different? Well, she’s a lizard.”

(Clara goes to the window and hears the moaning dinosaur.)

The Doctor: “I am alone. The world which shook at my feet, and the trees and the sky, have gone. And I am alone now. Alone.”

Clara: “Are you translating?”

The Doctor: “The wind bites now, and the world is grey, and I am alone here. Can’t see me. Doesn’t see me. Can’t see me.”

Clara: “Who can’t see it? I think all of London can see it.”

Strax: “Boy? Madame Vastra is waiting.”

Clara: “Okay. Whatever.”

Strax: “I will convey you to her chamber. May I take your coat?”

Clara: “Not wearing a coat.”

Strax: “What’s all that?”

Clara: “Clothes.”

Strax: “May I take your clothes?”

Clara: “(sotto) Probably not.”

Strax: “Are you wearing a hat?”

Clara: “It’s hair.”

Strax: “No, I think it’s a hat. Would you like me to check?”

“Terra?” Clara asked.

“I’ll stay in here.” I said, my voice soft. I leaned back in the chair. My eyes stayed on the sleeping Doctor.

“Are you sure?” Clara asked.

“Vastra is waiting.” I said impatiently. “I’d get going.”

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(A conservatory. Vastra is sitting in her peacock chair. A fountain is playing.)

Vastra: “And then?”

Clara: “Why are you wearing your veil?”

Vastra: “And then?”

Clara: “And then we got swallowed by a big dinosaur. You probably noticed.”

Jenny: “How did it happen?”

Clara: “I don’t know. I don’t know. We were crashing about everywhere. The Doctor was gone. The TARDIS went haywire.”

Jenny: “He’s not gone. He’s upstairs.”

Clara: “Okay, he changed.”

Vastra: “He regenerated. Renewed himself.”

Clara: “Renewed. Fine.”

Vastra: “Such a cynical smile.”

Clara: “I’m not smiling.”

Vastra: “Not outwardly. But I’m accustomed to seeing through a veil. How have I amused you?”

Clara: “You said renewed. He doesn’t. He doesn’t look renewed. He looks older.”

Vastra: “You thought he was young?”

Clara: “He looked young.”

Vastra: “He looked like your dashing young gentleman friend. Your lover, even.”

“Shut up.” Clara snapped. She had seen the Doctor with Terra, how close the two were. They were the ones that were together, Terra had made that very clear when they first met.

“And the same is true for Terra.” Vastra said.

Clara blinked. “Sorry?”

“Terra may look young, but she is far older and has seen far worse than you can comprehend. She had seen the absolute worst humanity has to offer, and carried the weight of such horror everyday.” Vastra said, her tone harsh. “And he is the Doctor. He has walked this universe for centuries untold, he has seen stars fall to dust. You might as well flirt with mountain ranges.”

Clara: “I did not flirt with them.”

Vastra: “They flirted with you.”

Clara: “How?”

Vastra: “He looked young, and she smiled. Who do you think that was for?

Clara: “Me?

Vastra: “Everyone. I wear a veil as they wore faces and smiles for the same reason.”

Clara: “What reason?

Vastra: “The oldest reason there is for anything. To be accepted.”

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(Up in the guest bedroom, the Doctor wakes and sniffs the air. He gets out of bed and crawls around on the carpet, sniffing. He goes to the radiator and finds a piece of chalk which he uses to make marks on it.)

He rose up. A startled look on his face. He looked around the room, in a confused state.

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Vastra: “Jenny and I are married. Yet for appearance’s sake, we maintain a pretence, in public, that she is my maid.”

Jenny: “Doesn’t exactly explain why I’m pouring tea in private.”

Vastra: “Hush now.”

Jenny: “Good pretence, isn’t it?”

Vastra: “I wear a veil to keep from view what many are pleased to call my disfigurement. I do not wear it as a courtesy to such people, but as a judgment on the quality of their hearts.”

Clara: “Are you judging me?”

Vastra: “The Doctor regenerated in your presence, and Terra opened up to you. The young man disappeared, the joy filled girl vanished, their veils lifted. They trusted you. Are you judging them?”

Clara: “How dare you? How dare you?”

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“Door. Not me.” The Doctor went to the window. “Me.”

Running to his side, I smiled. “Mind if I join you?”

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Clara: “Marcus Aurelius, Roman emperor. Last of the five good ‘uns. Stoic philosopher.”

Vastra: “Superlative bass guitarist. The Doctor really knows how to put a band together.”

Clara: “And the only pin-up I ever had on my wall when I was fifteen. The only one I ever had. I am not sure who you think you’re talking to right now, Madam Vastra, but I have never had the slightest interest in pretty young men. And for the record, if there ever was anybody who could flirt with a mountain range, she’s probably standing in front of you right now. Just because my pretty face has turned your head, do not assume that I am so easily distracted.”

(Vastra is no longer wearing her veil. Jenny applauds.)

Jenny: “Whoo. Whoo. Sorry.”

Vastra: “Well, goodness me. The lake is ruffled at last. I often wondered what you’d be like when you lost your temper.”

Jenny: “Oi. Married.”

Vastra: “The Doctor needs us, you more than anyone. He is lost in the ruin of himself, and we must bring him home.”

Clara: “When did you stop wearing your veil?”

Vastra: “When you stopped seeing it.”

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(The Doctor is making his way towards the river.)

The Doctor: “Oi. Oi. Oi, big, sexy woman. Oi. Sorry. Sorry, it’s all my fault. My time machine got stuck in your throat. It happens. I brought you along by accident. That’s mostly how I meet girls, but don’t worry, I promise I will get you home. I swear. Whatever it takes, I will keep you safe. You will be at home again.”

(The dinosaur suddenly bursts into flames. It roars in pain before collapsing.)

The Doctor: “Stop that. Who’s doing that? No, don’t do that.”

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(The Doctor leaps from a roof into a tree. The upper bough breaks under the strain, dropping him down.)

The Doctor: “Argh. Argh. Oh.”

(He finishes hanging upside down from the lowest branch by his knees. A hansom cab, or growler, trots into his view.)

The Doctor: “Halt. Sorry, I’m going to have to relieve you of your pet.”

CABBIE: “You’re what?”

The Doctor: “Shut up, I was talking to the horse.”

(The Doctor somersaults on to the horse’s back and uses his sonic screwdriver to sever the traces and reins.)

CABBIE: “What are you doing?”

The Doctor: “Forwards.”

(The Doctor is cantering along the cobbles.)

The Doctor: “Left. No, no. Right, right, right, right. Sorry, it’s my new hands. I can’t tell them apart.”

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(The Doctor dismounts and stands on the parapet over the burning remains, muttering to himself.)

The Doctor: “(sotto) Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.”

(Strax brings the carriage to a halt behind him, and the ladies get out.)

Strax: “Whoa.”

Jenny: “The Doctor.”

Clara: “What’s he doing here?”

(Vastra secures her carriage using the remote control in her hat.)

Vastra: “There is trouble. Where else would he be?”

The Doctor: “She was scared. She was scared and alone. I brought her here and look what they did.”

Vastra: “Who or what could have done this thing?”

“Still not the question.” I sang.

Vastra: “I’m sorry?”

The Doctor: “No. That is not the question. That is not where we start.”

Strax: “The question is how. The flesh itself has been combusted.”

The Doctor: “No, no, shut up. What do you all have for brains, pudding? Look at you. Why can’t I meet a decent species? Planet of the pudding brains.”

Clara: “Doctor, I know you’re upset, but you need to calm down and talk to us. What is the question?”

The Doctor: “A dinosaur is burning in the heart of London. Nothing left but smoke and flame. The question is, have there been any similar murders?”

Vastra: “Yes. Yes, by the Goddess, there have.”

The Doctor: “Look at them all, gawking.”

The Doctor: “Question two. If all the pudding brains are gawking, then what is he?”

(One man is walking away calmly.)

Vastra: “He seems remarkably unmoved by the available spectacle.”

Clara: “Do you think that is whoever-”

(There is a splash. The Doctor is no longer standing on the parapet.)

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I rolled my eyes. “Great Story, I’m marrying an idiot.”

I chased after him.

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“Aren’t you cold?” The Doctor asked, looking over my outfit. His eyes lingered on the legs.

“Nope.” I smiled. “I actually don’t think it’s cold enough.”

The Doctor kept his eyes on my legs. “Yes...uh...you sure you don’t want a change of clothes?”

“Do you?” I asked. “You’re in a night dress.”

“You’re in pants.” The Doctor retorted.

“No. I’m in a skirt.” I said, feigning innocence. The Doctor’s eyebrows turned cross. “What? You got something to say?”

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The Doctor: “Bitey. The air, it’s bitey. It’s wet, and bitey.”

BARNEY: “Oh, it’s cold.”

The Doctor: “That’s right. It’s cold. It’s cold, I knew it was a thing. I need um, I need clothes. I need clothes, that’s what I need. And a big, long scarf. No, no, move on from that. Looked stupid. Er, have you seen this face before?”

BARNEY: “No.”

The Doctor: “Are you sure?”

BARNEY: “Sir, I have never seen that face.”

The Doctor: “It’s funny, because I’m sure that I have. You know, I never know where the faces come from. They just pop up. Zap. Faces like this one. Come on, look at it, have a look, come on, look, look, look.”

(The Doctor pulls Barney over to look in the mirror on the ground.)

The Doctor: “Look, it’s covered in lines. But I didn’t do the frowning. Who frowned me this face? Do you ever look in the mirror and think I’ve seen that face before?”

BARNEY: “Yes.”

The Doctor: “Really? When?”

BARNEY: “Well, every time I look in the mirror.”

The Doctor: “Oh, yes, yes, yes. Fair enough. Good point. My face is fresh on, though.”

BARNEY: “Er-”

(Barney moves away from the nutter in the nightshirt.)

The Doctor: “Why this one? Why did I choose this face? It’s like I’m trying to tell myself something. Like I’m trying to make a point. But what is so important that I can’t just tell myself what I’m thinking?”

BARNEY: “Er-”

The Doctor: “I’m not just being rhetorical here. You can join in.”

BARNEY: “I don’t like it.”

The Doctor: “What?”

BARNEY: “Your face.”

The Doctor: “Well, I don’t like it either. Well, it’s all right up until the eyebrows. Then it just goes haywire. Look at the eyebrows. These are attack eyebrows. You could take bottle tops off with these.”

BARNEY: “They are mighty eyebrows indeed, sir.”

The Doctor: “They’re cross. They’re crosser than the rest of my face. They’re independently cross. They probably want to cede from the rest of my face and set up their own independent state of eyebrows. That’s Scot. I am Scottish. I’ve gone Scottish?”

BARNEY: “Oh yes, you are. You are definitely Scots, sir. I, I ’ear it in your voice.”

The Doctor: “Oh no, that’s good. Oh.”

(He practices the long rolling Scottish ’oh’ sound.)

The Doctor: “It’s good I’m Scottish. I’m Scottish. I am Scottish. I can complain about things, I can really complain about things. Now, give me your coat.”

BARNEY: “No.”

The Doctor: “I am cold.”

BARNEY: “I’m cold.”

The Doctor: “I’m cold. There’s no point in us both being cold. Give me your coat. Give me your coat. No, wait. Shut up, shut up. Shut up. I missed something. It was here, it was here. It was. What was it I saw? What did I see?”

(He pick up an old newspaper.)

The Doctor: “This is what I saw. Spontaneous combustion.”

(Fourth case of spontaneous combustion. The death of Margaret Roberts occurred on Friday, outside her home address in London, in what the police are describing as a curious case of spontaneous combustion. She was aged 68 years. Born in Scotland, Mrs Roberts etc, etc.)

BARNEY: “What devilry is this, sir?”

The Doctor: “I don’t know, but I probably blame the English.”

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(Clara crosses the street and looks up at the building, which is just as depicted in the advert. She goes inside and sits by herself on a curved bench seat in a wall alcove, with a small round table in front of it. The restaurant has other customers, but is very quiet. She examines the advert again, then sniffs. Then she coughs as she fans the air with the paper. Her companion is wearing a noisome coat.)

The Doctor: “What’s wrong?”

Clara: “I don’t know. Maybe the smell?”

The Doctor: “I know. It’s everywhere.”

Clara: “Where did you get that coat?”

The Doctor: “Er, ahem, I bought it.”

Clara: “From where?”

The Doctor: “Er, a shop?”

Clara: “No.”

The Doctor: “Might have been a tramp.”

Clara: “You don’t have any money.”

The Doctor: “Er, I had a watch.”

Clara: “No. That watch was beautiful.”

The Doctor: “It was my favorite.”

Clara: “You swapped your favorite watch for that coat. That’s maybe not a good deal.”

The Doctor: “Well, I was in a hurry. There was a terrible smell.”

Clara: “Okay.”

(The Doctor smiles and laughs a little.)

Clara: “No. No, don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t smile. I will smile first and then you know it’s safe to smile.”

The Doctor: “Are you cross with me?”

Clara: “I am not cross. But if I was cross it would be your fault and. Yes, I am cross.”

The Doctor: “I guessed that.”

Clara: “I am extremely cross.”

The Doctor: “And if I hadn’t changed my face, would you be cross?”

Clara: “I would be cross if I wasn’t cross.”

The Doctor: “Why?”

Clara: “Why? An ordinary person wants to meet someone that they know very well for lunch. What do they do?”

The Doctor: “Well, they probably get in touch and suggest lunch.”

Clara: “Mmm hmm. Okay, so what sort of person would put a cryptic note in, in a newspaper advert?”

The Doctor: “Well, I wouldn’t like to say.”

Clara: “Oh, go on, do say.”

The Doctor: “Well, I would say that that person would be an egomaniac, needy, game-player sort of person.”

Clara: “Ah, thank you. Well, at least that hasn’t changed.”

The Doctor: “And I don’t suppose it ever will.”

Clara: “No, I don’t suppose it will, either.”

The Doctor: “Clara, honestly, I don’t want you to change. It was no bother, really. I saw your advert, I figured it out. I’m happy to play your game.”

Clara: “No. No, no. I didn’t place the ad. You placed the ad.”

The Doctor: “No, I didn’t.”

Clara: “Yes, you placed the ad, I figured it out. Impossible Girl, see? Lunch.”

The Doctor: “No, look, the Impossible. That is a message from the Impossible Girl.”

Clara: “For the Impossible Girl.”

The Doctor: “Ooo.”

Clara: “Oh.”

The Doctor: “Well, if neither of us placed that ad, who placed that ad?”

Clara: “Hang on. Egomaniac, needy, game-player?”

The Doctor: “This could be a trap.”

Clara: “That was me?”

The Doctor: “Never mind that.”

Clara: “Yes, I am minding that.”

The Doctor: “Clara.”

Clara: “You were talking about me?”

The Doctor: “Clara, what is happening right now in this restaurant to you and me is more important than your egomania.”

Clara: “Nothing is more important than my egomania.”

The Doctor: “Right, you actually said that.”

Clara: “You never mention that again.”

The Doctor: “It’s a vanity trap. You’re so busy congratulating yourself on solving the puzzle, you don’t notice that you’re sticking your head in a noose.”

Clara: “What are you doing?”

(The Doctor pulls a hair from his head.)

Clara: “And that isn’t the only grey one, if you are, er, having a cull.”

The Doctor: “What, do you have a problem with the grey ones?”

Clara: “If I got new hair and it was grey, I would have a problem.”

The Doctor: “Yeah, I bet you would.”

Clara: “Meaning?”

The Doctor: “It’s too short.”

(He pulls a hair from Clara’s head.)

Clara: “Ow.”

The Doctor: “Sorry, it was the only one out of place. I’m sure that you would want it killed.”

Clara: “Ooo. Are you trying to tell me something?”

The Doctor: “I’m trying to measure the air disturbance in the room.”

Clara: “Right. Moments when you know you are boring.”

(He holds the hair below the table edge and lets it go. It falls slowly downwards.)

The Doctor: “There is something extremely wrong with everybody else in this room.”

Clara: “Mmm. Basically, don’t you always think that?”

The Doctor: “Look at them. Don’t look.”

Clara: “You just said to look.”

The Doctor: “Look without looking.”

Clara: “They look fine to me. They’re just eating.”

The Doctor: “Are they?”

(A soup spoon is repeatedly brought up to the mouth and lowered again, still full. Knifes and forks lift and fall over plates.)

Clara: “Okay, no. No, they’re not eating.”

The Doctor: “Something else they’re not doing.”

(Another short grey hair falls to the floor.)

The Doctor: “(sotto) Breathing.”

Clara: “(sotto) What do we do?”

The Doctor: “Well, you don’t want to eat, do you?”

Clara: “Hmm. Slightly lost my appetite. Ahem. How long before they notice that we’re different?”

The Doctor: “Not long.

Clara: “Anything we can do?”

The Doctor: “How long can you hold your breath?”

Clara: “We could just casually stroll out of here, like we’ve changed our minds.”

The Doctor: “Happens all the time.”

Clara: “Ha. Course it does.”

(They stand. The other diners stop and stand with a clatter of clockwork. They take a step, the diners move towards them.)

Clara: “We could take another look at the menu.”

(So they sit down again and the diners return to their tables.)

Clara: “What are they?”

The Doctor: “I don’t know. But don’t worry, because that’s not the question. The question is, what is this restaurant?”

Clara: “Okay, what is this restaurant?”

The Doctor: “I don’t know.”

(They look at the small menus. A waiter appears at their table.)

The Doctor: “Er, no sausages? Do you? And there’s no pictures either. Do you have a children’s menu?”

(The waiter shines a small green light at the Doctor from the tip of his pencil.)

The Doctor: “Any specials?”

WAITER: “Liver.”

The Doctor: “I don’t like liver.”

WAITER: “Spleen. Brain stem. Eyes.”

Clara: “Mmm. Is there a lot of demand for those?”

The Doctor: “I don’t think that’s what’s on the menu. I think we are the menu.”

WAITER: “Lungs. Skin.”

The Doctor: “Excuse me.”

(The Doctor reaches up and pulls off the waiter’s face. There is a metal mesh beneath with a flame behind it.)

Clara: “Okay. Robot in a mask.”

The Doctor: “It’s a face.”

Clara: “Yeah, it’s very convincing.”

(The Doctor puts it over Clara’s face.)

The Doctor: “No, it’s a face.”

Clara: “Oh!”

(She throws it down.)

WAITER: “Yes.”

The Doctor: “Yes, what?”

WAITER: “Yes, we have a children’s menu.”

(Metal arms come out of the back of the bench and hold them tightly around the arms and legs. They are very nice arms, with hands on the end to clasp together firmly. Then the bench descends.)

The Doctor: “You’ve got to admire their efficiency.”

Clara: “Is it okay if I don’t?”

(They cry out as they go down.)

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(A large steampunk circular place, all brass and rivets. There are various people standing still in small alcoves around the wall, and the Half-Face Man is seated in a chair in the centre.)

The Doctor: “Hello? Hello, are you the manager? I demand to speak to the manager.”

Clara: “This is not a real restaurant, is it?”

The Doctor: “Well now, it’s more a sort of automated organ collection station for the unwary diner. Sweeney Todd without the pies.”

Clara: “So where are we now?”

The Doctor: “Factually? An ancient spaceship, probably buried for centuries. Functionally? A larder.”

Clara: “So why hasn’t somebody come for us?”

The Doctor: “We’re alive.”

Clara: “We’re alive in a larder.”

The Doctor: “Exactly. It’s cheaper than freezing us.”

Clara: “Okay.”

(The Doctor has shaken his sonic screwdriver out from under his coat.)

The Doctor: “Are you ready?”

Clara: “Go for it.”

The Doctor: “Don’t let it roll away.”

Clara: “No.”

The Doctor: “We’ve got one shot at this.”

Clara: “Next time, make one that doesn’t roll.”

The Doctor: “Go.”

(The Doctor manages to shake the sonic screwdriver onto the floor near Clara’s feet.)

The Doctor: “Have you got it?”

Clara: “I can only just about reach it.”

The Doctor: “Oh, it’s at times like this I miss Amy.”

Clara: “Who?”

The Doctor: “Nothing.”

(Clara gathers the screwdriver between her feet and aims upwards it at the Doctor.)

Clara: “Ready?”

The Doctor: “Don’t miss.”

(She flicks it up into his lap. He winces.)

The Doctor: “Oh.”

Clara: “Sorry, did I hit something?”

The Doctor: “Oh, the symbolism.”

(He gets the screwdriver into his hands and unfastens his bonds with it, then Clara’s.)

Clara: “You should make that thing voice-activated. Oh, for God’s sake, it is, isn’t it?”

The Doctor: “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Clara: “Doctor?”

(There is a Chinaman in the nearest alcove.)

The Doctor: “Dormant.”

Clara: “How do you know?”

The Doctor: “I don’t. I’m just hoping.”

(They tiptoe away.)

Clara: “So, is it these guys that killed the dinosaur?”

The Doctor: “Well, if they’re harvesting organs, a dinosaur would have some great stuff.”

Clara: “Why would robots need organs? Burke and Hare from space?”

The Doctor: “No, but that’s a good theory. Droids harvesting spare parts. That rings a bell.”

(He stares at the Half-Face Man in the chair in the middle.)

The Doctor: “Captain, my Captain.”

Clara: “Can he see us?”

The Doctor: “Dormant.”

Clara: “Hoping?”

The Doctor: “Yep. Oh, look. He’s recharging. He’s asleep. Doesn’t even know we’re here.”

Clara: “Are you sure?”

The Doctor: “Sure. Not sure. One or the other.”

Clara: “Okay. So, half-man, half-robot. A cyborg, yeah?”

The Doctor: “Oh.”

Clara: “Oh?”

BOTH: “Oh.”

The Doctor: “Look at the hands.”

Clara: “What about them?”

The Doctor: “Look at them.”

Clara: “I’m looking.”

The Doctor: “They don’t match. These hands don’t belong to the same body.”

(One is large and fleshy, a workman’s hand. The other is slim and dainty, never scrubbed a floor in its life.)

Clara: “I don’t understand.”

The Doctor: “Well, I don’t blame you. See this, this is not your normal cyborg. This isn’t a man turning himself into a robot. This is a robot turning himself into a man, piece by piece.”

Clara: “That’s what the restaurant’s for.”

The Doctor: “Well, it would need a constant supply of spare parts. You can tan skin, but organs rot. Some of that metalwork looks Roman. Wonder how long it’s been around, how much of the original is even left? The eyeballs look very fresh, though.”

(The arms move. They jump back.)

Clara: “Ah.”

(It takes hold of the chair arms, and clockwork whirrs.)

Clara: “(sotto) Is it awake?”

The Doctor: “It’s waking up. I think. Okay, let’s go.”

(They tiptoe away, then run through a doorway into a brightly lit corridor. The Doctor turns back.)

The Doctor: “I’ve seen this before. I’m missing something.”

Clara: “Doctor.”

The Doctor: “It’s the brand new head, rebooting.”

Clara: “Come on.”

The Doctor: “I’ve seen this before.”

Clara: “Oh, hurry up. Get out.”

(Clara returns and pushes the Doctor through the doorway as the Half-Face Man raises his arm and touches his palm. The door comes down between the Doctor and Clara. He tries to sonic it open.)

Clara: “Doctor. Quickly.”

(The door lifts a short way. The Half-Face Man is unplugging himself from his chair.)

The Doctor: “Sorry, too slow. There’s no point in them catching us both.”

Clara: “Well, give me the screwdriver.”

The Doctor: “I might need it.”

(The Doctor closes the door fully and leaves her.)

Clara: “No. Doctor?”

(More)

==PC==

(More)

Half-Face Man: “Where is the other one? There was another. Where is he? Where is the other? You will tell us, or you will be destroyed.”

Clara: “What did you say?”

Half-Face Man: “You will tell us.”

Clara: “Yeah, I know. Or what?”

Half-Face Man: “You will die.”

(Clara stands.)

Clara: “Go on, then. Do it. I’m not going to answer any of your questions, so you have to do it. You have to kill me. Threats don’t work unless you deliver.”

Half-Face Man: “You will tell us where the other one is.”

Clara: “Nope.”

Half-Face Man: “You will be destroyed.”

Clara: “Destroy me, then. And if you don’t, then I’m not going to believe a single threat you make from now on. Of course, if I’m dead, then I can’t tell you where the other one went then. You need to keep this place down here a secret, don’t you? Never start with your final sanction. You’ve got nowhere to go but backwards.”

Half-Face Man: “Humans feel pain.”

Clara: “Ah. Bigger threat to smaller threat. See what I mean? Backwards.”

Half-Face Man: “The information can be extracted by means of your suffering.”

Clara: “Are you trying to scare me? Well, cos I’m already bloody terrified of dying. And I’ll endure a lot of pain for a very long time before I give up the information that’s keeping me alive. How long have you got?”

(The clockwork whirs, then the Half-Face Man stands up.)

Clara: “All you can offer me is my life. What you can’t do is threaten it. You can negotiate.”

(The Half-Face Man removes his big right hand and clamps it onto his lapel.)

Clara: “Okay, okay, okay. Okay, yes, yes, yes, I’m crying and it’s just because I am very frightened of you. If you know anything about human beings, that means you, you’re in a lot trouble.”

(The robot has a flame-thrower where his hand was, ready to go.)

Half-Face Man: “We will not negotiate.”

Clara: “You don’t have a choice. I tell you what. I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

Half-Face Man: “We will not answer questions.”

Clara: “We’ll take turns. I’ll go first. Why did you kill the dinosaur?”

Half-Face Man: “We will not answer questions.”

Clara: “Why’d you kill the dinosaur?”

Half-Face Man: “We will not answer questions!”

Clara: “Then you might as well kill me, because I’m not talking again till you do.”

Half-Face Man: “Within the optic nerve of the dinosaur is material of use to our computer systems.”

Clara: “You burned a whole dinosaur for a spare part? No. No, hang on. You know what’s in a dinosaur’s optic nerve, which means you’ve seen them before.”

Half-Face Man: “Where is the other one?”

Clara: “How long have you been rebuilding yourselves? Look at the state of you. Is there any real you left? What’s the point?”

Half-Face Man: “We will reach the promised land.”

Clara: “The what? The promised land? What’s that?”

Half-Face Man: “Where is the other one?”

Clara: “I don’t know. But I know where he will be. Where he will always be. If the Doctor is still the Doctor, he will have my back.”

(Clara reaches behind her.)

Clara: “I’m right, aren’t I? Go on. Please, please, go on, say I’m right.”

(A hand grabs hers and pulls her back. Then the bald robot removes the skin from his face.)

The Doctor: “Ah. Hello, hello, rubbish robots from the dawn of time. Thank you for all the gratuitous information. Five foot one and crying. You never stood a chance. Stop it.”

(The Doctor pulls the flame-thrower arm down and puts his sonic screwdriver into the recharger in the chair. The lights go out.)

The Doctor: “This is your power source. And feeble though it is, I can use it to blow this whole room if I see one thing that I don’t like. And that includes karaoke and mime, so take no chances. See Clara, that’s how you disguise yourself as a droid!” The Doctor yelled.

Clara growled. “Yeah, well I didn’t have a lot of time. I’d been suddenly abandoned!”

“Yeah, sorry.” He shook his head. “No, actually, I’m not.” The Doctor glared at the robot. “You’re brilliant on adrenaline. And you were out of your depths. Never try and control a control freak.”

“I am not a control freak!” Clara snapped.

“Yes ma’am.” The Doctor quipped. I held back my smile.

Clara: “Oh.”

Half-Face Man: “Why are you here?”

The Doctor: “Why did you invite us? The message, in the paper. That was you, wasn’t it? Oh.”

(He takes back his screwdriver.)

The Doctor: “I hate being wrong in public. Everybody forget that happened. Clara, say the word.”

Clara: “What word?”

The Doctor: “They never sent you in here without a word.”

Clara: “I don’t want to say it.”

The Doctor: “I’ve guessed already.”

(Clara touches her top button, which glows bright blue.)

BOTH: “Geronimo.”

(Two ladies in tight leather catsuits descend from the ceiling by means of long pieces of fabric wrapped around their waists, then pull large swords from the scabbard on their backs.)

Vastra: “Remain still, and lay down your weapons in the name of the British Empire.”

Strax: “Argh.”

(Their short but robust companion didn’t have fabric long enough. He just falls to the floor with his honking great gun.)

Vastra: “Strax.”

Strax: “Sorry.”

Jenny: “I’ve told you before. Take the stairs.”

The Doctor: “Oh, look. The cavalry.”

Half-Face Man: “I burned an ancient, beautiful creature for one inch of optic nerve. What do you think you can accomplish, little man?”

The Doctor: “What do you? Vastra?”

(Vastra blocks the flame-thrower with her sword.)

Vastra: “The establishment upstairs has been disabled with maximum prejudice, and the authorities summoned.”

Clara: “Hang on, she called the police? We never do that. We should start.”

The Doctor: “You see? Destroy us if you will, they’re still going to close your restaurant. That was going to sound better.”

Half-Face Man: “Then we will destroy you.”

(All the robots have swords for arms.)

The Doctor: “No, you won’t. You’re logical. You have restraint. You killed to survive. You’re not a murderer.”

Clara: “He’s not a what? This is a slaughterhouse.”

The Doctor: “And how does that make it different from any other restaurant? You weren’t vegetarian the last time I checked. This is over. Killing us won’t change that. What would be the point?”

Half-Face Man: “To find the promised land.”

The Doctor: “You’re millions of years old. It’s time you knew, there isn’t one.”

Half-Face Man: “I am in search of paradise.”

The Doctor: “Yeah, well, me too. I’m not going to make it either.”

(The Half-Face Man knocks the Doctor down.)

Clara: “Doctor!”

Half-Face Man: “I will leave in the escape capsule. Destroy where necessary.”

Vastra: “Escape capsule? This ship is millions of years old. It’ll never fly.”

Half-Face Man: “It has been repaired.”

Clara: “What with?”

Half-Face Man: “You.”

Strax: “Defensive positions, everyone.”

Clara: “Doctor. He’s getting away.”

(The Half-Face Man goes up on the bench seat while the rest of the robots encircle our heroes.)

Half-Face Man: “Your friend is intelligent. He’ll know better than to follow me.”

(The Doctor is holding on to a convenient brass handle on the underside of the seat.)

(More)

==PC==

(More)

(The Doctor pours two glasses of whiskey.)

“Would you like a drink?” I asked, pouring us all whiskey.

Half-Face Man: “What are you doing?”

The Doctor: “I’ve got the horrible feeling I’m going to have to kill you. I thought you might appreciate a drink first. I know I would.”

(The Half-Face Man turns back to the control panel in the wall and pulls down a small lever. There is a grinding sound.)

The Doctor: “Fifty first century, right? Time travelling spaceship crashed in the past. You’re trying to get home the long way round.”

Half-Face Man: “I go to the promised land.”

The Doctor: “So you keep saying. Okay, so your restaurant is made out of your old ship. But you’re wasting your time. It can’t ever fly.”

(The Doctor picks up a posy that had been on a table.)

Half-Face Man: “The escape pod is viable.”

The Doctor: “How? You can’t patch up a spaceship with human remains. You know, this really is ringing a bell.”

(The room shakes.)

The Doctor: “Okay, that’s clever. How are you powering it?”

Half-Face Man: “Skin.”

(The escape pod is the main room of the restaurant, carried aloft by the pink balloon. The Doctor removes a fuse from the board and reads the inscription.)

The Doctor: “SS Marie Antoinette. Out of control repair droids cannibalising human beings. I know that this is familiar, but I just can’t seem to place it.”

Half-Face Man: “How would you kill me?”

The Doctor: “Sister ship of the Madame De Pompadour. No, not getting it.”

(He sniffs the posy then throws it aside.)

Half-Face Man: “How would you kill me?”

The Doctor: “Why don’t you have a drink first? It’s only human.”

Half-Face Man: “I am not human.”

The Doctor: “Neither am I.”

(The balloon and its gondola float over Saint Pauls Cathedral.)

The Doctor: “What do you think of the view?”

Half-Face Man: “I do not think of it.”

The Doctor: “I don’t think of it. I don’t. Droids and apostrophes, I could write a book. Except you are barely a droid any more. There’s more human in you than machine. So tell me, what do you think of the view?”

(The Half-Face Man gets up and draws back the net curtain. They are heading towards Westminster.)

Half-Face Man: “It is beautiful.”

The Doctor: “No, it isn’t. It’s just far away. Everything looks too small. I prefer it down there. Everything is huge. Everything is so important. Every detail, every moment, every life clung to.”

Half-Face Man: “How could you kill me?”

The Doctor: “For the same reason that you’re asking me that question, because you don’t really want to carry on. What’ll happen to the other droids when you die? You’re the control node, aren’t you? Presumably they’ll deactivate.”

Half-Face Man: “I will not die. I will reach the promised land.”

The Doctor: “There isn’t any promised land. This is just. It’s a superstition that you have picked up from all the humanity you’ve stuffed inside yourself.”

Half-Face Man: “I am not dead.”

The Doctor: “You are a broom. Question. You take a broom, you replace the handle, and then later you replace the brush, and you do that over and over again. Is it still the same broom? Answer? No, of course it isn’t. But you can still sweep the floor. Which is not strictly relevant, skip that last part. You have replaced every piece of yourself, mechanical and organic, time and time again. There’s not a trace of the original you left. You probably can’t even remember where you got that face from.”

(The Doctor holds up a silver plate between himself and the Half-Face Man. The droid takes it, looks carefully, then drops it.)

Half-Face Man: “It cannot end.”

The Doctor: “It has to. You know it does. And there’s only one way out.”

(The Doctor opens the doors.)

Half-Face Man: “Self-destruction is against my basic programme.”

The Doctor: “And murder is against mine.”

(They struggle in the doorway.)

Half-Face Man: “You are stronger than you look.”

The Doctor: “And I’m hoping you are too. This is over. Are you capable of admitting that?”

Half-Face Man: “Do you have it in you to murder me?”

The Doctor: “Those people down there. They’re never small to me. Don’t make assumptions about how far I will go to protect them, because I’ve already come a very long way. And unlike you, I don’t expect to reach the promised land.”

(The Half-Face Man turns off his flame thrower. They release each other.)

The Doctor: “You realize, of course, one of us is lying about our basic programming.”

Half-Face Man: “Yes.”

The Doctor: “And I think we both know who that is.”

(More)

==PC==

(More)

I tossed the clothes at him. The Doctor looked at me curiously. “Go on. Get dressed. I’m not gonna have my future husband be a homeless guy anymore.”

The Doctor grunted. “Well now that we’re being honest, why don’t you change? I don’t want you wearing that getup. Far too much skin.”

A smirk came onto my face. “What? Don’t like my clothes? Or...do you like them too much?” I walked past him.

The Doctor paused in his confident steps. He turned to me, that confidence moved to his smirk. “Yes. I do.” He said in utter seriousness. “Now go take it off.”

It had been a joke, a tease to see how far the Doctor would go. He was honest, totally and purely honest with me. It felt good.

He walked off into the TARDIS, to get on his new clothes. I braced myself on the console, realizing just then I hadn’t exactly been breathing.

==PC==

(More)

My outfit was a little more mild. The TARDIS was probably doing this to keep the Doctor from having a heartsattack.

I wore a short sleeve white peasant shirt, with some blue designs along the collar. My skirt had been replaced with tan capri pants. I wore roman sandals, which I wasn’t in love with but they would do. My hair had been done into a shoulder braid, tied with a purple ribbon. There was a bohemian teal blue scarf tied over my head, looking delightful.

It looked gorgeous. Simple, yet alluring.

The Doctor seemed to approve.

“Hello Morgan Spencer.” The Doctor said, in the tone he always uses when speaking his companions names.

I loved that tone. “Hello Theta Sigma.” I greeted.

The Doctor shook his shoulders. “I like that outfit better.”

“No, you liked the other one.” I corrected. “You just didn’t like that you weren’t the only one looking at it.”

The Doctor went to flipping switches. “Of course. How would you feel if I wore something like that?”

“I would wonder how you got the skirt.” I quipped.

The Doctor gave me a flat look. I just kept my smirk up. “No. I meant, if I went around in just my pants.”

I blushed. Pants were what British people called underwear. I wondered what kind the Doctor wore...or if he had any at all. “Need I remind you that I’m at 11?”

The Doctor smirked, flipping one last switch. “Oh. Trust me, I would’ve remembered if you ever showed up in that skirt.”

I blushed deeper, not sure why. “Yeah.”

(More)

==PC==

(More)

(The dinosaur sputum has gone from the outside.)

Clara: “You’ve redecorated.”

The Doctor: “Yes.”

Clara: “I don’t like it.”

The Doctor: “Not completely entirely convinced myself. I think there should be more round things on the walls. I used to have lots of round things. I wonder where I put them? I’m the Doctor. I’ve lived for over two thousand years, and not all of them were good. I’ve made many mistakes, and it’s about time that I did something about that. Clara, I’m not your boyfriend.”

Clara: “I never thought you were.”

The Doctor: “I never said it was your mistake.” (He sets the TARDIS flying then shows off the red silk lining of his dark blue Crombie coat.) The Doctor: “What do you think?”

Clara: “Who put that advert in the paper?”

The Doctor: “Who gave you my number? A long time ago, remember? You were given the number of a computer helpline, and you ended up phoning the TARDIS. Who gave you that number?”

Clara: “The woman. The woman in the shop.”

The Doctor: “Then there’s a woman out there who’s very keen that we stay together.”

(The TARDIS lands. Sadly, the time rotor does not go up and down.)

The Doctor: “How do you feel on the subject?”

Clara: “Am I home?”

The Doctor: “If you want to be.”

Clara: “I’m sorry. I’m, I’m so, so sorry. But I don’t think I know who you are any more.”

(Her mobile phone rings.)

The Doctor: “You’d better get that. It might be your boyfriend.”

Clara: “Shut up.” She snapped. “Terra’s standin’ right there!”

The Doctor looked over at me, I just shrugged. Why was she dragging me into all of this? This was the moment where they would start getting along.

“I’m not her boyfriend either.” The Doctor commented, making me snort.

‘The way his kissed me on that train says he has gone way beyond boyfriend.’ I thought, remembering the kiss fondly.

(Clara goes outside to answer the call.)

(More)

The Doctor: “So who is it?” “Is that the Doctor?

Clara: “Yes.” “Yes.

Clara held out the phone. “He says it’s your turn.”

“Hello Manboy.” I said.

“Terra.” Eleven breathed. In that same way he did at Demons Run. “Hello my dear.”

I smiled. “You’re dying.”

“Yes.” He admitted.

“I love you.” I suddenly said. “That’s the first time I’ve said that to anyone. Next time, I’m saying that to your face got it Doc?”

The Doctor laughed. “Morgan, I promise, that no matter how I change, I will still love you.” The Doctor promised.

I laughed, happy. “I know. I know. I’ve met this Doctor before. It was...unforgettable.” I couldn’t stop the blush over that kiss. “But, manboy, no matter what happens to me, I forgive you. I will always forgive you, as long as I will love you. Totally-”

“And completely.” The Doctor finished my thought.

I laughed. That was gonna be our thing. No question. There was an almost uncomfortable silence on his end. “Take care of him, Morgan, please.” The Doctor pleaded.

“I Pinkie promise, Theta.” I said. “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

(More)

The Doctor: “Well?”

Clara: “Well what?”

“He asked you both a question.” The Doctor pointed out.

Clara still looked heartbroken.

“Will you help me?”

Clara: “You shouldn’t have been listening.”

The Doctor: “I wasn’t. I didn’t need to. That was me talking. You can’t see me, can you? You look at me, and you can’t see me. Have you any idea what that’s like? I’m not on the phone, I’m right here, standing in front of you. Please, just, just see me.”

(Clara walks forward and studies his face carefully. Then she smiles a little.) Clara: “Thank you.”

The Doctor: “For what?”

Clara: “Phoning.” (She throws her arms around his neck.) I joined in on the hug fest, knowing how this Doctor would react.

The Doctor: “I, I don’t think that I’m a hugging person now.”

Clara: “I’m not sure you get a vote.”

“He did. We just ignored it.” I snickered, holding Doc just a little bit tighter.

The Doctor: “Whatever you say.”

Clara: “This isn’t my home, by the way.” (She lets go.)

The Doctor: “Sorry. I’m sorry about that. I missed.”

Clara: “Where are we?”

The Doctor: “Glasgow, I think.”

Clara: “Ah. You’ll fit right in.” (Scots) “Scottish.”

The Doctor: “Right. Shall we, er. Do you want to go and get some coffee, or chips, or something? Or chips and coffee?”

Clara: “Coffee. Coffee would be great. You’re buying.”

The Doctor: “I don’t have any money.”

Clara: “You’re fetching, then.”

The Doctor: “I’m not sure that I’m the fetching sort.”

Clara: “Yeah, still not sure you get a vote.”

(More)

==PC==

(More)

I held his hand, getting used to the feeling. It was old, and wrinkly. I brushed my thumb against his knuckles. The Doctor smiled at me. I smiled back.

Bringing his hand up to me, I kissed his fist. I just held it there, getting a better feel of it than the last time. It was kinda like kissing leather.

“I love you.” I whispered into his fist. “I love you, Theta.”

The Doctor smiled. “Yes. Good to know.”

I gulped, still holding his fist. “Sorry for asking, but, when did you realize you loved me?”

The Doctor paused, looking me over. His free arm wrapped around me. I kept his hand held close to me. The hug told me everything I needed to know.

“Knew it.” I smirked. “You are a hugger.”

(More)

“Arrivederci, mi Amore.” I decided, Jumping away in a flash.

==PC==

The Half-Faced Man awoke in a garden, with a tea set made out on a table beside him. In the seat just across, a woman sat. She smiled at him, pink lips framing shining white teeth vaguely reminding him of a shark. She wore a bright green twenty first century sundress, and a pure white overcoat. Her honey blonde hair was done back into a bun, but she did have some bangs on her forehead. She had lime green eyes, covered by brass framed glasses.

The android looked around his new surroundings, wondering how he got there. The last thing he remembered was fighting the Doctor. The woman tilted her head to the side, the look in her green eyes suggesting she was a predator and he was prey.

The look vanished instantly, replaced with warm kindness. She reached for the tea pot, pouring herself a small cuppa.

“Hello. I’m Meredith.” She spoke in an English accent. She had a soothing voice, almost matronly. There was something beneath it, something diabolical. The blonde flinched sympathetically, holding her teacup closer to her chest. She frowned at the Half Face Man. “Sorry about my boyfriend.” She shrugged, sheepish. “He’s Scottish.” She took a sip of the tea.

Half-Face Man tilted his head. His mechanics hissing and his gears grinding. “Boy friend?”

Meredith avoided the question. “Now, did he push you out of that thing, or did you fall?” Meredith asked, using one hand to reach out to him in a gesture of comfort. “Couldn’t really tell. He can be quite mean sometimes.” She moved her hand back, placing her teacup down.

She looked out onto the garden, smiling fondly. “Except to me, of course, because he loves me so much.” Meredith glanced at Half-Face Man. “I do like his new accent, though.” She smiled, that predatory smile. “Think I might keep it.”

Half-Face Man tilted his head the other way, glancing at the garden. It gave no clues as to where he was. The machine did not like the lack of knowledge. “Where am I?” He said in a threatening tone.

Meredith scoffed, rolling her eyes and smiling like he was about to get a big surprise. “Where do you think you are? Look around you. You made it.”

She rose up from her seat, picking up an dark pink umbrella from her side of the table. Using it as a walking stick, Meredith joyfully walked out into the garden. Half Face Man watched her warily. Her simple peasant shoes hardly making a sound. “The Promised Land. Paradise.”

Meredith spun in a circle, grinning madly at Half Face Man. She threw her arms out, including the umbrella. “Welcome...to Heaven!”

(She snaps her teeth together and dances around the water feature.)

(More)