|  Author | Topic: Dealing with the Unknown (Flic/Doc/Anyone) (Read 264 times) |
Tormakoff
Time Lord
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Oh...my turn to save the world?
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Karma: 8 |  | Re: Dealing with the Unknown (Flic/Doc/Anyone)
« Reply #15 on Aug 13, 2009, 8:28am » | |
“A condition? What condition?” asked Tormakoff as he shook the doctor’s hand. “And what is—Aspburger?”
“No—my name is As-‘per’-ger, Dr. Hans As-‘per’-ger,” He emphasized. “Your condition is Autistic personality disorder, or ‘psychopathy’ depending on how you might describe it.”
“Asperger’s syndrome?!” Tormakoff exclaimed.
“What was that?”
“Uh—nothing…just something you haven’t heard before.” Tormakoff said, going over to look at a couple of books off the shelves. “I’ve heard of it, it was…mentioned in relation to a book—‘The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time’.”
“Odd name for a book—and odder name for a syndrome, especially as it is my name.” Hans Asperger frowned. “Never mind—I suppose you are referring to the same thing. However, it is not a disease—far from it. The Nazis might have you believe that everything that steps out of line, and thus considered ‘abnormal’, is thus ‘inferior’—not true.”
Torm paused. “Where are we? When—”
“Vienna, of course,” Hans Asperger said, gesturing to the window. “This is my office at the University, and you are in 1944—I have a school not too far from here, where the children with your condition are being taught by Sister Victorine. ”
“I do not have—any condition.” Tormakoff said as he looked around the office. “I’m just an ordinary…Time Lord, like most Time Lords, except for one or two problems--”
“Are you having problems making friends? Or being in love?” Dr. Hans Asperger asked. “Do you…find it difficult to express any emotion, except for the most extreme in different ranges?”
“What? No, um…” Tormakoff hesitated. “I…haven’t had too many steady relationships, and the one I did have…got away from me.”
“That is usual. Many of those who do marry show tensions and problems with their marriages. They cannot understand the complexities of that emotional tie, when they are more logical than anything else—my ‘little professors’ I call these children. I have published a paper about them, if you would like to read--”
“I am not a ‘little professor’” Tormakoff told him. “I have my own interests, my own hobbies—”
“Yes—and what is this thing you have with ‘time’? ” Hans Asperger asked. “You have great knowledge of time, do you? You have a special interest in the workings of time, how it functions, how it moves, how it flows? You must be absorbed in your study, because it is a very complex subject—my children also have such interests. I have a child, whom I call ‘Fritz V’ in my research, he has a special interest in astronomy, and has even noticed a problem with Isaac Newton’s work! He will be a great scientist, I believe, if he is allowed to grow up—the problem is, of course, how can he survive in these conditions?”
“The Nazis? ”
“Yes—they are not understanding. But these children do have their place in society-- for when they grow up, who knows what they might achieve? ” Dr. Hans Asperger asked. “I have had many children, boys, sent to my care because they exhibited behavior problems in their schools; and I have noticed that several of them—most notably 4, whom I call Fritz, Ernest, Harro and Hellmuth—share similar behavior and personality characteristics. They do not have the social reasoning or maturity necessary to facilitate friendships, and they are often teased by other little children. They hold one sided-conversations, and have unnatural language—pedantic, almost, when they cannot speak without an unusual prosody that affects tone, pitch, and rhythm. They have the vocabulary of little professors, but they do not know how to carry on a conversation—they are impaired in almost every verbal and non-verbal form of communication.
“Have you ever considered that maybe you have this same condition? ”Tormakoff asked. “You talk with…that same level of vocabulary, and you’ve got the ability to dominate a topic—you don’t let others get a word in edgewise, do you? ”
“Maybe I don’t—but then, how can I let others hear what I have to say, unless I speak as much as possible? ” Hans Asperger stood up from his desk. “I do not know if I have this same condition, but Tormakoff—you must examine your own life. Have you ever felt different from others? Have you ever felt isolated, or been isolated and yet enjoyed it—enjoyed your own company above that of others? ”
“I—I haven’t…” Tormakoff hesitated, looking around the office. “Okay, maybe I have kept to myself, but sometimes people are just such a problem, okay? I haven’t always been friendly when I should have been, and…sometimes I have been ‘too’ friendly, when I didn’t know…if they liked me…”
“You do not believe that you are well liked, do you? Do you sometimes attach yourself to people, in the hopes that they will like you better?”
“I--kind of think…they find me annoying…” Tormakoff shook his head. “No—I am not a—I am not a person with Asperger’s syndrome…”
“Do you ever get frustrated when you have to wear something you find annoying? ”
Tormakoff gasped. “Yes! Exactly! There are—these robes, and I find them…awfully itchy, and sometimes…I want to ripe them off, I feel so frustrated. Why—why do you ask--”
“You are hypersensitive. ” said Hans Asperger. “Certain sensations, certain noises, certain situations—will just overwhelm you. You will feel like you can’t cope, and would like to hide in a dark corner—away from bright lights that glare at you, away from loud noises that startle you. You do not like surprises—you do not like changes, though you might implement some of your own, if you are impulsive enough. You will also have a…painful reaction to being touched—you do not want to be hugged, or held for too long; you will flinch, or stiffen in the arms of the person holding you. You will not find that pleasant—as some might. ”
Get away from me! ” Tormakoff yelled, staggering away from the doctor. “Where’s the door? I’ve got to get out of here--”
In the distance, they heard—the building vibrated, as a whistling noise became an explosion; Dr. Hans Asperger looked out the window and cried, “The school—the children! Sister Victorine—all of my work…”
Tormakoff found the door, and ripped it open, fleeing from the doctor’s office as Dr. Hans Asperger started crying…Nowhere Man, don't worry, Take your time, don't hurry, Leave it all till somebody else lends you a hand!
“I hate that music,” Tormakoff muttered to himself as he found himself alone again in the whiteness…Doesn't have a point of view, Knows not where he's going to, Isn't he a bit like you and me?
“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Tormakoff cried out, and then walked on, across the white space and fog, grimacing to himself as his face turned into a ‘wooden’ mask. “I am not crazy, I am not crazy, I do not have Asperger’s syndrome, I am not crazy…”
[OOC: Note: thanks to Wikipedia & 'The Complete Guide to Asperger's Syndrome' for getting my facts straight, or as straight as possible.]
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The Doctor
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Karma: 1,025 | | Re: Dealing with the Unknown (Flic/Doc/Anyone)
« Reply #16 on Aug 14, 2009, 11:20pm » | |
Deep breath in…deep breath out.
The Doctor remained in his fallen position – eyes closed. He didn’t want to deal with this place, those people, their issues…anything. Perfectly content with the little bubble of solitude he had wrapped himself in, enjoying the lack of anything going on in his own mind. Sure – he was still conscious with full thoughts…he was just refusing to acknowledge reality. It was the fatigue that was making reality even harder. Thanks to his single heart, his energy level – which was constantly high – was now low…for the first time since he had first regenerated and gotten his second heart, ages and ages ago. Tired was only felt after regenerating – and that was normally a blur. This ‘fatigue’ thing was…wrong. Disturbing. To be quite honest – he had no clue how to handle it.
With a gasp – his eyes shut open, and quickly shut once again, thanks to the blinding white. A hand had touched his shoulder, shoving him back into reality. After several quickly paced blinks – in order to reassimilate his vision to the brightness of this horrid all-white place. Surprisingly, however, there was nothing there. No one there. Just…him. Him in the middle of this random white space that Torm just had to open those damn doors… he thought, pushing himself to his feet, as he began to wander through this aimless wasteland.
Another yawn escaped through his mouth – his hand dampening the sound, as reflex-tears blurred his vision for a moment, before being blinked away. The key to this place was just…remaining…calm. Not think back to that camping trip gone wrong. Not think about what subsequently happened after the last time he was in an all white room. Not to think about the gun. Not to think about the blood. Not to think about the pain. Not to think about the torture. Not to think about…
The Doctor’s thoughts were halted by the image of Felicity in the near-distance. She wasn’t baring a knife. Wasn’t killing anything. Wasn’t seducing, threatening, or hurting anything or anyone. She was just there. Curled into a little ball. Sobbing.
The Doctor’s approach slowed, his face turning from annoyed to quite mindful. Concerned.
Squatting down beside Felicity, he watched her with wide, dark eyes, before draping a comforting arm around her shoulders (though was ready to leap from her randomly hidden knife at any moment), patting her far shoulder slightly, “It’s okay…it’s okay,” he comforted, “It’s gone now…Just me. Just me and…whiteness…” his voice slid into an uneasy tone with the final word, before sighing.
This was one really $%&#ed up day.
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Flic Banacêk
Human
21st Century
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Karma: 7 | | Re: Dealing with the Unknown (Flic/Doc/Anyone)
« Reply #17 on Aug 17, 2009, 7:57am » | |
Felicity didn’t have a clue what to do next. Up was down, black was white, right was wrong. She could no longer differentiate between fiction and reality. Was this place of white nothingness just a dream, or was it real and everything else she had seen and experienced in her life really a dream? Confusion reigned supreme.
To say she had not been herself recently was a complete understatement, but the problem was she no longer had any idea who ‘she’ was. The events of the mock trial had completely terrified her, not necessarily from the threat of being killed by an army of her own clones, but by the accusations being levelled against her. Some of it was accurate – she’d gladly admit to hurting Syn any day of the week – while the rest she remembered, just twisted completely out of proportion by the other side. Brian’s consequences were as a result of his own actions. He had chosen to cheat on her, and any other reasonable person would have behaved the same way. And sure, she admitted she had played a hand in the demise of the Captain and the pirates, and the Queen and her guards, but they were evil megalomaniacs and they had brought it entirely upon themselves. If she and her friends hadn’t stopped them, then they would have been free to run rampant, killing, destroying and enslaving anything they chose. She knew that ultimately she had been on the side of good, and while some philosophical standpoints would argue that killing was wrong no matter what the circumstances, she was more of a big picture person, and if killing one evil person would save the life of just one innocent person, let alone millions or billions, then it was an acceptable action.
No, it was the other accusations that had hurt and scared her the most. If she’d stopped and thought rationally for a moment, she’d have realised that it couldn’t have really been her family there, but merely the projections of her subconscious, or something. Nevertheless, some of what they said still haunted her. She did have the opportunity to do something about what happened to them. She had gone back in time and interfered in history, saving the lives of people she didn’t know and would never even meet, but yet she had never tried to go back and save the people she loved. It wasn’t as if keeping them alive would have changed history or anything, after all they were just two ordinary people, it wasn’t as if they would have started World War III. But it would have made a difference to them, they would have been allowed to live. They gave life to her, so she should have done more to return the favour.
And as for the blonde Time Lady…Felicity still couldn’t fathom exactly what she had done. Inadvertently killing a baddie to save the world was one thing, but just murdering an innocent person in cold blood was unforgivable. She didn’t have a clue who the Time Lady was. She didn’t know her name, or what she did, or whether she had a family, but instead she had plunged her knife into the woman’s heart without even a second’s hesitation. And for what? To try and prove a point to Tormakoff and the Doctor who were nowhere to be seen now. But it wasn’t really her who had done it, it was that…voice inside her head, driving her on to kill. Then again, it was her hand that had clutched the blade, her body that had been the instrument of their current predicament. Could this be the same girl – one who murdered without hesitation, and yet had been known to show regret at accidentally crushing a bug underfoot?
No, Felicity decided that it couldn’t be the same person. A cold, vicious, heartless, murdering bitch couldn’t just turn around and show that level of despair and regret that quickly. That thing inside her head was gone now, and she was just left with the regret, the memory, the ghosts and the despair. “Out, out damned spot…” she whispered to herself, holding up her hand in front of her face and looking at it through tear filled eyes.
It was then that she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. “It’s okay…it’s okay, it’s gone now…Just me. Just me and…whiteness…” she heard the Doctor say, more than a hint of uneasiness in his voice. That was certainly the last thing she’d been expecting. Not so long ago, he’d been looking at her, pure hatred in his eyes, as she slaughtered one of his own kind. Maybe he instinctively felt that it wasn’t really her fault, or something, and that it had been the force that had been controlling her. She wasn’t sure she’d have been so forgiving in the same situation, and wouldn’t really have blamed him for just abandoning her in this bleak wilderness for eternity, or even taking more severe reprisals. But obviously that wasn’t the kind of man he was. “Who was she?” she mumbled, still choked up with her tears. “Was it…was it real? Did I really kill her?” She kept her head turned away from him, completely unable to look him in the eyes. “Please, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry…I never…I didn’t…I’m so sorry…” she sobbed, the words catching in her throat. She felt so tiny, and scared, and wretched, and she hated every moment of this feeling. Half of her just wanted to curl up and die, not caring in the least what happened to her. The other half of her also wanted this feeling to go away, not by just giving up but by actively fixing the problem and resolving the issues that made her feel like this. But Felicity wasn’t able to make that decision at the moment. If the Doctor wanted to forgive her, and help her, rescue Tormakoff and head home, then she’d let him. On the other hand, if he wanted his revenge, then she’d just have to accept it. It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t deserve it.
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Tormakoff
Time Lord
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Oh...my turn to save the world?
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Karma: 8 | | Re: Dealing with the Unknown (Flic/Doc/Anyone)
« Reply #18 on Aug 20, 2009, 2:12pm » | |
[OOC: I wanted to go off in another direction...]
Tormakoff just had to spend a few moments contemplating his condition, as he wandered in the whiteness that was his own mind—or his own mind as he saw it in that moment; blank, blank of anything but himself, blank of time and space for that matter when there was nothing but himself—just himself, and everything he had ever done.
Asperger’s Syndrome.
He had been in the Time War-- he had been in many other wars-- but nothing compared to…he had been a good soldier; always obedient to taking orders. He had done everything he had been asked to do, because it had been an order—and he had taken them literally; he didn’t know how else to function, without order.
Asperger’s Syndrome.
But in a place that was chaos, that was…pure emotion, he had no direction, no lead—he was purely logical, in some sense; a perfect Time Lord. But completely incapable of handling human complexities like love, marriage, raising a child—that was also part of being a Time Lord, or so he had excused it as just being a part of his race; but meeting other Time Lords that had other issues like this, yet they dealt with them somehow—they had love, they had children, they had absurdities, they had faults, but they were still able to function, even with all of this. They were different from him, and he couldn’t handle what they had handled.
Asperger’s Syndrome.
He was still logical, and yet he border-lined on the creative side, the hopeful side—the one that was still naïve, still a child, still…‘inadequate’ to meeting the demands of the universe; he had tried, oh how he had tried, but he couldn’t quite succeed the way he had hoped. He had been a professor of sorts, a soldier, a spy, an explorer, a lover, a father, a—‘mentor’, perhaps, a philosopher, a clown (oh, how low he had fallen)—and, in all of this, he had failed; he had tried, and he had failed to produce, or do anything worthwhile. Sometimes he was impulsive, sometimes he tried to do something and it backfired on him—he imagined that it would go well, but then it turned out wrong, like everything did; nothing turned out right.
Asperger’s Syndrome.
There had been friends, companions of sorts, but they all went away…he felt like they had neglected them, but maybe he had neglected them as well—when he had left them behind, now and again. There had been some abuse—Lord Windlaxifaladrian had mistreated him, ordering him about for years and years as spy and then as Lord President, yet he hadn’t realized just how much he had been mistreated because he had no idea that it was abuse. He had no idea how to handle social relationships—what was the context of a social relationship, what counted as a friendship or was more of a ‘love’ connection, if it was even possible to feel—did he feel love? Did he feel—affection, really deep affection that counted as love, and not just infatuation that gave him a fleeting feeling of a high, but left nothing permanent for anybody except himself? Was he only concerned for himself?
Tormakoff stopped in his tracks; no, he had—he had saved Alice…because it was his fault that she had died, because he had felt guilty, because he needed to save her to prove to himself that he was a hero like the Doctor…the townspeople of Xenia…that was a natural disaster, you saw that they were in danger, therefore you helped them because it was the logically right thing to do…Ajax?...he was a friend when you needed one, you made friends with him to be helped during the Time War, you saw to it that he stayed alive and gave you the companionship you needed…Edanna…he was attracted to her, he had to admit it to himself, and she made a sound argument for the side of Free Time…the Doctor!...the Doctor had an interesting lifestyle—you were intrigued by him, and you thought that you could ‘emulate’, imitate his lifestyle, but you couldn’t because…you were not like him.
All of the reasons, all of the explanations, all of the arguments—pointed out to him that he had Asperger’s; and he had to deal with it…or else he would suffer because of it. He was hypersensitive, after all…
His thoughts were in such a state of disarray, that he didn’t notice the whiteness getting darker and darker around him until there was portal, just behind him, to another side of nowhere…and then he came across the Doctor and Felicity. He saw them, in the distance, the Doctor holding Felicity and comforting her—like there hadn’t been an alien entity inside of her; but it was such an image of emotion, of feeling, of empathy—that he didn’t really feel. If someone held him--if he held someone…he didn’t really know what to do; it was awkward, it was just—he didn’t really know…
And now they would go; they would go back to the Doctor’s TARDIS, like nothing had ever happened, and the other two would drop him off back at his own TARDIS in Alaska, and he would just go off in Ironhorse with an unsatisfied feeling—of having completed nothing again, of having ‘failed’ to find a solution to the Time Lords’ heart problem, of finding a solution for his own heart’s problems…
He looked behind him, and saw the blackness, the--nothingness coming into nowhere…and he took a step back; he didn’t really know why he did it—he just felt like doing it. Maybe he wanted to test himself…maybe he wanted to see what would happen, if he just let the blackness, the nothingness, swallow him whole…maybe he just wanted to see if somebody would save him…maybe he would just see what would happen next…
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The Doctor
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Karma: 1,025 | | Re: Dealing with the Unknown (Flic/Doc/Anyone)
« Reply #19 on Sept 18, 2009, 12:34am » | |
This place wasn’t real. It was all an illusion for the eyes. It had to be. Right? Some of the people he had just seen…they were dead. Out of his life. Why were they here? It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. How could it be? Maybe Rose was really here…? Maybe? No. She was kidnapped. Not here. Here wasn’t where they would take her. Right? Why would they take her here? Or rather – why wouldn’t they take her here, was the better question. It was in the middle of nowhere. Literally. The Doctor probably couldn’t get back here if he tried. So maybe that really was her? No. No way. It couldn’t. No. She was with the others. And the blood…the blood that had covered him only moments before he saw them. Where did it go? Things like that didn’t just disappear. Right?
Reality couldn’t be that relative.
Or he was really $%&#ed.
Not too much later after he managed to escape the weirdness, he found Felicity. She looked like she had been concurring as many demons as he. With a few soothing words and a hand on her shoulder, the girl didn’t quite flinch from his touch.
“Who was she?” Felicity asked, causing the Doctor to pause. Who was who? His brows attempted to touch as he frowned slightly. There had a been a lot of shes in the past few moments of his life…but only one with Felicity as a guest star. She meant Storm.
“She was…a good friend of mine,” the Doctor replied, feeling something warm at his knees. Looking down, he groaned. His knees were dark and crimson once more.
“Was it…was it real? Did I really kill her?” Felicity asked, keeping her head away from the Doctor, as he lowered a finger to his knee. It was definitely blood. Storm’s blood. Why was it back? Was this place one of mocking?
“I really don’t know,” the Doctor admitted, wiping the strain on a different, cleaner part of his pants, to remove it from his finger, once he was done studying the substance. This place was so confusing. Up was down. Right was wrong. And apparently…reality was relative. Not a good thing. Ever.
“Please, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry…I never…I didn’t…I’m so sorry…”
Whatever had possessed Felicity before seemed to have removed its claws…or that’s the impression it was giving the Doctor, anyway. What if it was a trick? It seemed right up her alley to have some sort of trick like this. Patting her back, the Doctor decided to bite. If anything, he could play it off like he knew the whole time…which he honestly did way too often.
“It’s this place,” he whispered, “It’s not right...not right at all. Come on…let’s move. Hopefully things’ll change if we start moving…?” he suggested, carefully pulling her to her feet as he rose.
In the distance, he could see a familiar form.
Was that…
“Torm?
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