Ten Forward | Boredom is a Many Splendered Thing (OTA)
2014-Jul-19, Saturday 03:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Oh, so the engines are working again, are they? It's about bloody time. She can feel the shift in things as she's walking Deck 11 on her way to the holodecks. She hasn't been inside one yet, but she's heard other people (mostly Rory) going on about how great they are.
"All right, Computer," she says, stopping at the entrance to one and frowning at the console. "How do you work?"
What follows is a lengthy and aggravating conversation as she works out how the holodecks work, but not what they can do. They can't recognize any of the alien planets she asks about, and there's no place on Earth she's eager to go see. Definitely not Leadworth. Definitely not Venice. She might give Provence a go, but thinking about Vincent makes her melancholy, and from there her thoughts stray.
"Computer, can you make the TARDIS?" Beep. "That location is not on file." "Computer, can you make ... Gallifrey?" Beep. "That location is not on file." "Computer, can you ... can you make The Doctor?" Beep. "Specify Doctor." "Time Lord." "That species is not on file." "You're bloody useless then, aren't you?"
Dejected, Amy gives up on the holodecks and returns to Ten Forward. It's been too long. The Doctor should have come looking for her—come looking for them—by now. Where is he? It's not like Rory's been any help, going about the ship like a little boy oohing and ahhing and talking about warp drives and tricorders and god knows what else. She doesn't even know where he is right now.
No. She's on her own with this one. Again. No come along, Pond. Now it's come along, Doctor, and bloody hurry up with the TARDIS, will you? Maybe things will be different now that the ship is moving, but whatever the case she figures she's on her own finding her way back home. She watches the stars streak past the windows, sat at a table with a cooling cup of tea. It's no big deal. She's done it before.
She just wishes she didn't have to.
"All right, Computer," she says, stopping at the entrance to one and frowning at the console. "How do you work?"
What follows is a lengthy and aggravating conversation as she works out how the holodecks work, but not what they can do. They can't recognize any of the alien planets she asks about, and there's no place on Earth she's eager to go see. Definitely not Leadworth. Definitely not Venice. She might give Provence a go, but thinking about Vincent makes her melancholy, and from there her thoughts stray.
"Computer, can you make the TARDIS?" Beep. "That location is not on file." "Computer, can you make ... Gallifrey?" Beep. "That location is not on file." "Computer, can you ... can you make The Doctor?" Beep. "Specify Doctor." "Time Lord." "That species is not on file." "You're bloody useless then, aren't you?"
Dejected, Amy gives up on the holodecks and returns to Ten Forward. It's been too long. The Doctor should have come looking for her—come looking for them—by now. Where is he? It's not like Rory's been any help, going about the ship like a little boy oohing and ahhing and talking about warp drives and tricorders and god knows what else. She doesn't even know where he is right now.
No. She's on her own with this one. Again. No come along, Pond. Now it's come along, Doctor, and bloody hurry up with the TARDIS, will you? Maybe things will be different now that the ship is moving, but whatever the case she figures she's on her own finding her way back home. She watches the stars streak past the windows, sat at a table with a cooling cup of tea. It's no big deal. She's done it before.
She just wishes she didn't have to.