The Doctor (thedoctorbot) wrote,
The Doctor
thedoctorbot

[Locked to the Vesmier]

[[Backdated to just after this happened.]]

KOSCH.

Are you going to tell me what's happened, or do I need to track you down, and... I don't know. Hover forlornly at you?

Assuming I can work out exactly how to hover in a forlorn way, at any rate...

Talk to me, Kosch... I might've just barely felt that, but I DID feel it, and something's not right.
Tags: journal, locked: the vesmier
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{{A bit later, after one mostly-abortive mental healing trance.}}

Your counterpart fed the psychic experience of the burning of Gallifrey into the mind of a probability mage.

The major damage has been addressed.
HE WHAT?

...on purpose?

Because I might understand, if something were to... slip out. But if he actually fed them...

...Rassilon. You felt it, didn't you?

Kosch, I'm so sorry.
He had his reasons.

In any case, that particular issue has been addressed. You might want to take it up with him directly if you needed details.
...I always do, don't I? And they always seem like good ones at the time.

I'll go talk to him.

But are you all right?
{{after something of a pause}}

I'll need to complete a trance at some point, but I'm well.
Oh, would you



You'd think, wouldn't you, you'd just think that one of us might be able to have this kind of conversation without it turning into... This.

I know you, Kosch. Just... stop, would you? The universe isn't going to come to a screeching halt just because the Vesmier admits to not being all right.
As I've had more than enough cause to reflect, Doctor, old patterns of behavior are difficult to break.

No; I'm not "all right". I've experienced the genocide of of our species; thirdhand, but no less indelibly imprinted. The damage from that revelation, I can repair. The uneasiness I doubt anyone could address. What bothers me more I can't openly discuss, Viga Doctor, because the privacy of one's mind is, or so I still believe, sacrosanct.
I won't ask you to tell me about that, then, but I'm going to have to chat a bit with my « Self », I think.

And you... Oh, this is where I say something about how I'd have been there if you needed me, but

Things are

You know how it



|


« The psychic structure that keeps me {(stable)(cognisant)} and {my(Self)} was {(damaged)(compromised)(corrupted)}. I shut down, Kosch. Literally, given the psychic interface for the scout-bot. »

« I should have been there. »

« I'm sorry. »
But! This really isn't about me; silly of me to go on like that. Do you need anything? Company? I can be company. I'm good at company.
I'm not sure what good you can do, Viga, but if you'd like to visit with me, who am I to refuse?
{{...hold on, gotta remember how these "hearts" things work...}}

You'd think that in a technically deathless and abstract/mechanical form, you'd manage to skirt death somewhat more effectively. What happened?
There was... a carnival, of some sort. A woman with a puppet show. Strangest thing: the puppets moved on their own. Nothing mechanical -- the scans just turned up wood, but one turned its head toward me, completely by itself, and

It was asking me for help, Kosch.

So I confronted her, tried to work out what was going on, and she



Things go strange, there. I picked up some strange energy readings, and then everything sort of fell apart.

When I was finally able to rebuild the systems that let me communicate with the robot body, I found myself in a junk shop, on a shelf with all the other

With some broken toys.
I wonder which of us should really be asking if there's something the other needs.

...perhaps it's both.