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Chapter Text

With a clamour of bells that set the swallows soaring,
the Festival of Summer came to the city Omelas,
bright-towered by the sea.

—The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, Ursula K. Le Guin

Excerpt from The Barbarian's Guide to the New Roman Empire
(Fourth Imperial Edition, New Rome Press)
By Sasparilla de Worde, licensed contributor to The Mutter's Spiral Traveller.

In the far-flung splendour of the Outer Holdings, few worlds better embody the Imperial spirit than Nemorensis. Established during the campaigns of the Third Expansion Wave, this singular colony-world has flourished under the principles of discipline, civic harmony, and stewardship that define our great Empire.

The colony of Nemorensis, sole settlement on the planet, serves as both a scientific research hub and a critical source of rare earth minerals and other elements essential to the Empire's technological supremacy. From deep-bore mining shafts to precision refining facilities, the colony's work underpins the manufacture of everything from navigational computers to system infrastructure.

Situated along the fertile valleys of the Orphean Ridge, agricultural production thrives within the colony's vast biome domes—each designed not only to provide sustenance, but to recall the familiar landscapes of the heartworlds. Open to all during daylight hours, colonists and visitors alike are invited to spend their leisure hours in these carefully maintained havens, ensuring that the Imperial workforce remains healthy in both mind and body. 

From the moment you disembark, you will find the public spaces clean, secure, and designed for ease of navigation. The civic avenues, modelled on the ancient cardo and decumanus, guide all citizens toward the centres of learning, commerce, and governance. The colony's residential modules are equipped with climate regulation, universal sanitation systems, and the latest in domestic automation. For those seeking the wilder charms of the frontier, the famed Seven Cliffs walking trail lies just beyond the protective span of the colony's glass domes. Here, under the stark skies of Nemorensis, travellers may behold the Elysium Sea and the mineral rich escarpments whose bounty sustains Imperial industry.

Most notable of all, Nemorensis is honoured to be the first—and thus far only—colony to operate under the Core Intelligence System, a triumph of Imperial ingenuity. This synthetic governance system, sanctioned at the highest levels of the Senate, ensures perfect administrative efficiency and provides tireless civic oversight. As visitors will observe, the results speak for themselves: safety, order, and prosperity without interruption.

Whether you are here for commerce, study, or simply to witness the bold vision of the New Roman Empire in action, Nemorensis welcomes you.

Traveller's Advisory (Issued by the Prefecture of Visitors' Affairs): 
Visitors are reminded that Nemorensis operates on Standard Imperial Time, with curfew commencing at the twenty-second hour and concluding at first light. All public and residential areas are monitored for safety, and identification badges must be worn at all times. Unscheduled access to mining sites, research facilities, or Core Intelligence terminals is prohibited without prior authorisation. 

For your convenience, security personnel are stationed throughout the civic districts and can provide directions, translation assistance, and immediate resolution to any disturbances. Visitors are encouraged to approach them freely—the Empire's hospitality is matched only by its vigilance. May your stay be safe, prosperous, and in perfect accordance with Imperial law.

Editor's note: 
'Barbarian,' derived from the Vulgar Imperial term barbari, designates inhabitants of territories beyond the control of the New Roman Empire. This is distinct from peregrinus, which refers to those living within the Empire's dominion who have not been granted full citizenship.

>>> REVIEW FILE ://NEMORENSIS.SERVA.SYS/LOGISTICS-ENTRY/12005.279-ALERT

// LOADING SYSTEM FILE… 

FEED: SENSOR NODE [PAD 14]: Exterior Walkway | Transit Hub #4 — Decommissioned | Zone 8

// Datestamp: 12005.279 | 0641:Alpha

// Alert: Unregistered arrival event.

// Classification: Periphery breach (Soft contact)

// Environment: Stable. Fog trace detected. No wind. Low light level (Dawn)

// Local Security Response:

> Drone Deployment: DRN-BETA-6

> Loudout: Passive armament | Visual and biosign capture enabled

> Mission: First-contact probe

// Launching DRN-BETA-6…

// Scanning… 

// Initial Scan Results:

// OBJECT-1: Archaeotech (craft)

> EXTERIOR: Rectangular Structure (approx. 2.2m x 1.2m x 2.4m)

> INTERIOR: Unknown — material interference

> SURFACE COMPOSITION: Non-reactive. Composite material: wood. Visibly aged. Markings present: English (2nd millennium)

> REGISTRATION TAG: Absent

> ENGINE Profile: Unknown (null emissions, null thermal signature)

// UKN-001: Humanoid (physiology inconsistent with known human variants)

> ID: Unknown 

> External Biosign Scan Results:

>> HEART RATE: 173 BPM (elevated)

>> RESPIRATION RATE: 8 BPM (depressed)

> ATTIRE: Unknown affiliation | natural/synthetic materials (polycotton, wool)

> Cognitive Scan Results:

>> NEURAL ACTIVITY: Irregular patterning | High grey matter density across atypical cortical regions

>> EMOTIONAL SIGNATURE: Ambivalent | Volatile-positive skew

>> THREAT INDEX: Low-moderate (unarmed) | unpredictable cognition patterns

// UKN-002: Human

> ID: Unknown 

> External Biosign Scan Results:

>> HEART RATE: 75 BPM (within normal range)

>> RESPIRATION RATE: 13 BPM (within normal range

> ATTIRE: Unknown affiliation | Natural materials (wool, cotton, leather)

> Cognitive Scan Results:

>> NEURAL ACTIVITY: Basic | Elevated response to environment

>> EMOTIONAL SIGNATURE: Mild alertness | Defensive readiness

>> THREAT INDEX: Moderate | Armed (bladed weapon [x2]) | Physical strength advantage

// UKN-003: Human

> ID: Unknown 

> External Biosign Scan Results:

>> HEART RATE: 68 BPM (within normal range)

>> RESPIRATION RATE: 14 BPM (within normal range)

> ATTIRE: Unknown affiliation | Polysynthetic materials (nylon/rayon)

> COGNITIVE SCAN RESULTS: 

>> NEURAL ACTIVITY: High | Patterned in upper percentile bandwidth for prefrontal processing

>> EMOTIONAL SIGNATURE: Curiosity | Non-threat posture

>> THREAT INDEX: Low (unarmed)

// Verbal communication detected.

// Language Match: Imperial Standard (Idiomatic fluent). No regional accent match.

// Beginning automatic audio transcription...

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

[UKN-002]: "What is that thing?"

[UKN-001]: (cheerful) "A drone, Jamie. It's a drone!"

[UKN-002]: "A what?"

[UKN-003]: "A drone. An unmanned aerial vehicle, remotely controlled for aerial photography, environmental monitoring, and security checks. Someone's watching us."

[UKN-002]: "Oh aye. A wee flying beastie, then. Is it gonnae shoot us?" 

[UKN-001]: "Now, really! I'm sure it's perfectly harmless. We must have triggered some security alert when we materialised. Hello there! I don't suppose you could, ah, tell us where we are?"

// DRN-BETA-6: System Response Initiated

// Voice module: Active (Standard Male tone — neutral modulation) 

// Language selected: Imperial Standard, Capital Holdings Accent

[DRN-BETA-6]: "Unregistered parties, please remain stationary. This zone has been decommissioned. You are unauthorised to be here without valid credentials. Please state credentials, affiliation, and intent." 

[UKN-002]: "It talks!" 

[UKN-001]: "Ah, well, that's a bit tricky. You see, we're just passing through and—"

[UKN-003]: "Doctor, it's asking for formal credentials. Have we got any?"

[UKN-001]: "Of course we don't! Who do you take me for?" (to drone) "That, ah, won't be a problem, will it? I assure you, we're perfectly pleasant people." 

[DRN-BETA-6]: "Preliminary civic designation assigned: NULL. Anomaly report forwarded to colony Prætor. You will be escorted to the nearest civic intake node for temporary registration and orientation."

[UKN-002]: "Escorted by what, exactly? You?"

[DRN-BETA-6]: "Negative. Transport unit inbound. Please remain in visual proximity. Lethal response systems remain in standby mode." 

[UKN-002]: "Not so harmless now, is it, Doctor?"

[UKN-001]: "Well, it's been perfectly polite so far, and so have we. No reason to assume any danger yet." 

[UKN-003]: "You think we're in danger?"

[UKN-002]: "Zoe, when are we not in danger?"

[DRN-BETA-6]: "Hostile engagement threshold remains unmet. Please continue non-aggression."

[UKN-001]: "Splendid! We'll do just that. There's no need whatsoever for—for hostile engagement, just you see. Mind if I sit down? I might play a little song while we wait." 

[UKN-002]: "Nevermind, ye can shoot him."

[UKN-001]: "I beg your pardon?"

[DRN-BETA-6]: "Conversation has been logged for semantic analysis under Imperial Civic Accord 4.12.9 — Provisional Audit of Speech in Public Zones. Privacy waivers are assumed under Article 7.b due to anomalous entry status." 

[UKN-003]: (Laughter)

[UKN-002]: "Eh? What's that mean? Was it something we said?" 

[UKN-003]: "I think it just found you two so strange that it sent in your conversation for analysis." 

[DRN-BETA-6]: "Transport unit arrival in four minutes. Please prepare for civic orientation and temporary registration. Welcome to Nemorensis."

[END TRANSCRIPT]

// SYSTEM NOTE:

//  Audio data uploaded to local Core storage node. 

// Linguistic profiling in process…

// Core Observational Notes: 

> UKN-001: addressed as "Doctor" by UKN-003. Provisional ID updated to: PROV-ID-001 [DOCTOR]

> UKN-002: addressed as "Jamie" by UKN-001. Provisional ID updated to: PROV-ID-002 [JAMIE]

> UKN-003: addressed as "Zoe" by UKN-002. Provisional ID updated to: PROV-ID-003 [ZOE].

// PROV-ID-001 [DOCTOR]

> Exhibits high-order cognitive irregularities:

>> Neural complexity exceeds expected baseline for known humanoid profiles.

>> Displays atypical cortical distribution, elevated abstract pattern response, and multi-layered cognition potential. 

// PROV-ID-002 [JAMIE]

> Displays cultural-linguistic features consistent with historical dialect clusters despite usage of Imperial Standard (Pre-Empire Earth | Scottish Highland, archaic).

>> CORE NOTE: "Is something wrong with the sensor?"

// PROV-ID-003 [ZOE]

> Exhibits elevated synaptic activity across analytic quadrants. High neurodivergent efficiency. Responses are information-dense, adaptive, and analytically structured.

> Displays cultural-linguistic features consistent with historical dialect clusters despite usage of Imperial Standard (Pre-Empire Earth | derivative of orbital station linguistic registers) 

>> CORE NOTE: "Is something wrong with the sensor?"

// Temporary Profile Assignments: Complete

// Observation Protocol: Extended

// FLAGGED: Cog-scan/DOCTOR-THE

> To be forwarded to Admin-0525 [ALVAREZ, TAMSIN] pending verification.

// END LOG //

The transport unit turned out to be a small car that drove itself. Jamie clambered in after the Doctor, with Zoe close behind. The seat hummed beneath his touch, a curious, unnatural sort of vibration. He was used to vehicles in the future having no wheels to move upon and no horses with which to pull them, but this one seemed to lack an engine too. It just quietly thrummed, making odd electronic noises unlike any earthly engine. Once Zoe clicked her seatbelt into place, the car gave a sudden jolt into motion.

Jamie shot one last wary glance to the wee drone still hovering outside. It just… hung there, blinking its red lights at them. He'd be glad to see the back of it.

Outside, the landscape began to shift fast. The car moved with an unnatural smoothness, as if skating over ice. Silent, frictionless, and eerie. Their speed, too, seemed unnatural. Not flying, exactly, but hovering over the rocky soil. He caught a brief glimpse of something like rail tracks in front of them, before the car lurched, clicking into place onto the track, and from then on, it rode smoother than ever. No bumps, no rattling, no sense of the terrain at all. Jamie had the distinct sensation that the vehicle wasn't so much being driven as it was being drawn, like a needle through fabric.

Beside him, the Doctor leaned forward, peering out the curved window with boyish enthusiasm. He'd clasped his hands in his lap like he was holding himself back from pressing them to the glass. Zoe, on Jamie's other side, had already begun tapping lightly on a surface panel that glowed at her touch. She didn't seem to be having much luck, so Jamie decided to join the Doctor in looking outside. 

He wrinkled his nose at what he saw.

Where the TARDIS had landed had felt empty—abandoned even. But here, it was busy. 

The buildings they passed were grey, rounded, and tall. Great stacks of concrete rose like petrified tree trunks, venting long trails of yellow-grey smoke into a slate sky. Large vehicles, similar to their own car but outfitted to carry large crates of cargo, would join them briefly on the tracks before spinning off toward some unknown destination among the warehouses, furnaces, and great domes of frosted glass. Spindly-legged robots paced the distance between silos and skeletal scaffolds, sometimes climbing the buildings themselves like insects. Drones, like the one that had intercepted them, buzzed overhead, darting between towers.

The air outside looked thick. Not choking, but heavy, almost greasy with smoke. Much more than the delicate fog they'd found themselves in outside the TARDIS. Everything had a film over it, a fine coat of black and grey dust. Of lights, there were few: mostly red or amber coming off strange metal pylons, lighting up the early morning smog. Nothing was beautiful here—only functional.

And yet, there were people. 

Hard to make out at first, but there they were: masked, suited, moving with careful purpose. Some walked along catwalks, others stood at control stations beside huge cylindrical vats. No one spared a glance at the car as it passed by. 

'Factory works,' said Zoe. She'd abandoned the panel in exchange for looking out her own window, her breath fogging a patch on the cool glass. 'Primarily mining industry. You can tell from the smoke stacks, those are the forges. Ore refinement, I'd guess. Maybe rare earths.'

Jamie didn't respond. He wasn't sure what rare earths were, but didn't care much to learn. He could tell well enough from this ride alone that this wasn't a place he wanted to linger. Too much smoke. Too much concrete.

Then something changed. The car passed beneath a wide arch where pulsing lights marked the threshold, and Jamie felt, well, something. A shift, not in the road beneath them, but in the very air. As though they'd slipped from one world into another. Beyond the arch, the land flattened and cleared. 

Where the other place had been stained and mechanical, this new place breathed with care. Habitation. The buildings were painted in light tones, some with murals or colourful trims. Planters lined the walkways, containing shrubs and twisting vines climbing softly-lit trellises. Laundry lines stretched between rooftops, heavy with colourful fabric that flapped in the breeze.

They passed a body of water—vast and artificial, like the pool in the TARDIS—where people swam, dashed through the shallow ends, or lounged in the sun. Children tossed spinning disks of light between one another. A man stood on a street corner playing a wind instrument of sorts. Civilians moved between cafes, shops, and shaded garden paths with no apparent urgency.

The Doctor turned from the window, his expression unreadable. 'Curious place, isn't it?'

Zoe had pressed herself fully against the window, eyes scanning every detail. 'Definitely a civilian area. Residential infrastructure. Look!' She did her best to point. 'Solar panels on the rooftops. Low waste output. They work with clean energy.' 

Jamie looked at her. 'Aye, they've got houses. And lights.'

The car finally slowed. It turned—far too sharply, Jamie thought, for all its previous smoothness—and glided up a narrow lane flanked by angular planters and pylons. Ahead, a wide plaza opened into view, paved with matte stone tiles. A tall building stood at its centre, plain but imposing, like an old courthouse that had forgotten it was supposed to look welcoming.

The car glided into a docking cradle at the side of the building. There were other cars like theirs nearby, parked in silent rows. With a hiss and a chime, the doors beside the Doctor and Zoe slid open. 

The three of them bundled out into the plaza. The plaza air was warm, vaguely humid, and clean-smelling—just faintly perfumed with mechanical sterility and sun-heated stone. At the edge of the plaza, a drone edged into view. Jamie scowled at it, but said nothing.  

'Well then,' said the Doctor brightly, brushing his coat. 'Shall we meet our hosts?' 

Chapter Text

How can I tell you about the people of Omelas? 
They were not naive and happy children–
though their children were, in fact, happy.
They were mature, intelligent, passionate adults 
whose lives were not wretched.
O miracle!

—The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, Ursula K. Le Guin

>>> REVIEW FILE ://NEMORENSIS.SERVA.SYS/GUEST-INTAKE-REGIST-12005.279.LOG

// LOADING SYSTEM FILE… 

Nemorensis Department for Civic Registration— Guest Intake Register

#01

ID: Guest-019 [MCCRIMMON, JAMES ROBERT]

Species: Standard Human (Earth, pre-industrial)

Age: ~24 (Biological) | Evidence of temporal displacement

Civic Status: Barbarian

Cognitive Profile:

Cerebral Architecture: Standard Earthen | Baseline variance negligible

Pattern: Linear-sequential

Reasoning Index: Low-normal range

Memory Type: Context-embedded | Oral-traditional retention

Emotional Regulation: Externalised

Social Patterning: High fidelity | relational decision-making

Notes:

— Displays stable neurodivergent human response markers for origin historical period.

— Notable resilience in unfamiliar sociotechnical environments.

— High environmental reactivity: neural evidence of post-traumatic stress disorder.

— Temporal displacement does not appear to impair primary function. Cultural adjustment advised.

— Low civic threat.

#02 

ID: Guest-022 [DOCTOR, THE]

Species: Gallifreyan (Time Lord sub-species)

Age: Unknown (Exceeded scan threshold)

Civic Status: Barbarian

Cognitive Profile: 

Cerebral Architecture: Unknown (tracks to no known humanoid) 

— Evidence of auxiliary neural clusters (Functionally independent)

— Secondary brain mass detected (posterior cranial fossa)

— Triad brain stem

Pattern:  Non-linear multi-layered cognition

Reasoning Index: Abstract (unbounded)

Memory Type: Hyperselective | Multi-axial retention

Emotional Regulation: Stratified | Occlusive

Social Patterning: Adaptive | Manipulative-curious

Notes:

— Presence of functionally discrete secondary neural clusters suggests complex cognitive parallelism and autonomous physiological regulatory functions.

— Neural architecture diverges significantly from all known Earthen neuroanatomical models.

— Exhibits recursive mnemonic looping, cross-domain abstract synthesis, and reflective conceptual layering typical of high-functioning X-class entities. 

— Low civic threat.

#03 

ID: Guest-027 [HERIOT, ZOE]

Species: Standard Human (Earth, post-space age)

Age: ~19 (Biological) | Evidence of temporal displacement

Civic Status Barbarian

Cognitive Profile: 

Cerebral Architecture: Standard Earthen | Elevated neural density | High synaptic load tolerance | Multi-task convergence

Pattern: Analytic-convergent

Reasoning Index: 96th percentile

Memory Type: Photographic memory recall | Time-delayed fade resistance

Emotional Regulation: Internally modulated | Neural evidence of suppression training

Social Patterning: Task-optimised | Indirect adaptive

Notes:

— High function traits observed: compressive logic structuring, real-time data parsing, and cross-domain synthesis.

— Neural activity suggests orbital station cognitive training consistent with late 21st century standards.

— Temporal displacement does not appear to impair primary function. Cultural adjustment advised.

— Low civic threat

SIGNATURE:
Christos Vassakos | Civic Registration 
Colony Admin Ref: EPYACR-826.930-CRV
Datestamp: 12005.279 | 0724:Alpha

The meeting with the Prætor, apparently, had gone well. 

At least, the Doctor seemed pleased with himself. He came striding out of the office with a bright expression and a sort of formal-looking clasp fastened to the lapel of his coat—a circular badge bearing some unreadable emblem in gold relief. It glimmered faintly when the light of the reception area caught it, like a coin turned between fingers. 

'All settled,' he said cheerfully, as the doors shut behind him. 'We're officially guests. Full access granted. Public zones, residential areas, even the civic archive, if we behave ourselves.' He held out two similar badges to Jamie and Zoe. Then pulled them back towards himself, inspected them again, swapped them between his hands, and held them out again. 'Identity badges for each of you. They're also your keys for your living quarters. We're in Zone Four. Very nice, I'm told.' 

Jamie gave the badge a look, shrugged, and went to fix it onto his jacket like the Doctor's. Or tried to. He struggled for a moment, until the Doctor wordlessly took the badge from him and fixed it onto Jamie's jacket himself. Zoe had no such trouble with her badge—her jumpsuit seemed to have a latch over her heart, ready for trinkets like this.

'What, just like that?' he asked as the Doctor finished futzing with Jamie's badge. Then, grinning, the Doctor proceeded to smooth out Jamie's jacket, running his hands down the lad's sides with affection. 'Does that mean they like us, then?'

'Ah, I'm not sure the Empire is in the business of liking people, Jamie,' said the Doctor. He patted at Jamie's sides, making him squirm, then pulled away. 'Truth be told, the Prætor was a bit unsettled by the TARDIS materialising in a defunct transit hub. But luckily visitors aren't all that uncommon. They even offer guided tours!'

'We've landed in an empire?' asked Zoe. 'But I thought this place was in the future—my relative future, I mean,' she added, catching the Doctor's glance.

'The New Roman Empire,' said the Doctor. 'Empires never really fall out of fashion, Zoe. Until they, ah, fall, of course. But give it a few centuries and they pop back up once everyone's forgotten why they didn't like the last one.' 

Zoe frowned. 'That doesn't sound very efficient.'

They were walking now, through the corridors of the strange courthouse. It was all smooth marble and flowing red tapestries with golden embroidery, with the occasional marble bust or bubbling water fountain. Now that Jamie thought about it, it did look rather… empire-y. He and the Doctor had visited Rome once before—ancient Rome, not this new-fangled Rome—back when Victoria was still traveling with them, and this place sort of looked like the country villa they had landed in. It'd been nice, if a bit ornate—until they had been chased out by the patrician's guards, that is. 

'It's not efficient at all,' said the Doctor brightly. 'But it is terribly human. 'Draw a line, build a wall, set up a hierarchy—then spend the next two millennia wondering why no-one's happy.'

'If this is an empire,' began Jamie, fiddling with his badge, 'then where's the emperor? What's a pre—a prater—'

'Prætor,' corrected the Doctor effortlessly. 'They're a sort of imperial appointee, a regional authority, like a—well, a bit like a laird, really. Manages the day-to-day running of the colony, keeps people doing what they ought to, mostly.' He pulled at his ear. 'There is an emperor, of course. At this time, it's Emperor Vindex the Third, if I'm not mistaken. But you're unlikely to see much of him out here. We're at the very edge of the Empire's influence.' 

They turned a corner into a broader atrium. Glass-panelled walls let in a hazy grey light from the sky outside, revealing rows of steps leading down toward a civic square flanked with pylons and information kiosks. A few figures in clean, pale robes drifted past them, murmuring to glowing tablets. No one seemed to be in a rush.

Zoe slowed at the top of the stairs, taking it all in. 'It's all very… curated.' 

'There's nothing more imperial than the illusion of calm,' said the Doctor. Then he brought his hands together with a clap, rubbing them together in anticipation. 'Come on you two, let's see what's fun around here!' 

The Doctor bounded down the steps towards an information kiosk, leaving Jamie and Zoe to follow. He pressed his palm to a panel, and the kiosk shimmered to life. Rather than a traditional computer screen, a glowing lattice of symbols and shapes unfurled in the air above the panel. Layered icons drifted in and out of focus, each ringed with faint pulses of coloured light and gently animated sigils. It looked more like an abstract painting than a computer terminal. Nothing stayed still long enough to read.

Jamie squinted at the twinkling lights. 'Is that supposed tae be writing? Cannae make heads nor tails of it.'

'It's language agnostic,' said Zoe. 'Designed to be read by intuition more than direct translation, very modern.' At Jamie's confused look, she added, 'it means you don't have to speak the local language to understand it. Watch—it'll localise soon enough.'

As if on cue, the display flickered. In the next moment, the clean icons stuttered and warped, collapsing into a mess of half-formed glyphs and rotating symbols that looked, to Jamie's eye, like someone had dropped a set of alphabet blocks down a staircase.

'Ah,' said the Doctor, taking in the visual mayhem. 'That's me, I'm afraid. The TARDIS translation matrix is trying to rewrite the visual feed as verbal text. Poor girl gets overenthusiastic sometimes. Just a tick.' Then he closed his eyes, frowning faintly in concentration.

Jamie watched as the symbols stopped twitching, and slowly, began to shift into something of a comprehensible order. Still abstract, but now intuitively readable in a way that made his head ache if he thought too hard about how that was possible. The screen read: Nemorensis: Attractions and Guided Tours.

The Doctor opened his eyes and beamed at the now-legible display. 'There we are,' he said. 'Visual-language override disabled. Should let the interface do its thing.' 

He reached out and, keeping one palm on the terminal, began scrolling through the available directories, swiping his free hand through the air as each menu opened into a constellation of softly glowing symbols. 'Now, what have we here…' 

Nemorensis — Attractions and Guided Tours
Information Kiosk 27

The Biodomes
Vast, climate-control havens that recreate the landscapes of the heartworlds. From gentle forests to tranquil lakes, the biodomes offer a perfect respite from the frontier's harsher environment—and a chance to reconnect with the natural beauty of the Empire. 

The Seven Cliffs Trail
Venture beyond the glass domes of Nemorensis to the famous Seven Cliffs walking trail. Enjoy breath-taking views of the Elysium Sea and the mineral-rich escarpments along the coastline. A sight unique to Nemorensis and a favourite for both tourists and locals seeking the frontier's wild charm. Guided tours available.
Note: atmospheric suits required (silicon-based lifeforms excluded)

The Imperial Science Pavilion
Discover the latest breakthroughs in synthetic governance, mineral extraction, and systems biology at the science Pavilion. Interactive exhibits showcase cutting-edge research into engineered ecosystems and bio-integrated technologies, demonstrating how Nemorensis cultivates resilient life-support systems both within the biome domes and beyond. These innovations, alongside the pioneering Core Intelligence System, exemplify the colony's role in advancing the Empire's scientific and technological frontier. 

Local Cuisine at the Forum
Dine at the colony's central Forum, where culinary experts combine traditional recipes with locally sourced ingredients. From wholesome heartworld stews to rare mineral-infused delicacies, this is a must for any visitor's palate. Tasting tours available. 

Civic Ceremonies
Experience the disciplined pageantry of Imperial governance. Regular public ceremonies in the Civic Square celebrate milestones of the colony's progress and honour the tireless dedication of its citizens and peregrini alike. 

'So what do we actually do first?' asked Jamie. The food sounded nice, as did the cliffs—though he didn't like the idea of having to wear a spacesuit, not after his incident on the moon. He wondered how the Doctor’d take it if he just asked to find a pub instead.

The Doctor kept browsing. 'Well, we could start with a tour. There's the Science Pavilion, with public Core access, though it's limited… The Imperial museum. The biodomes—Jamie, I think you'll like those. Giant glass bubbles, custom climates, automated weather.'

'Aye, sure. Anything with a bit of green sounds better than what we saw out by the TARDIS,' Jamie muttered, side-eyeing the floating holograms like they might jump out at him. 

Zoe stepped closer to the terminal. Her eyes narrowed. 'That menu just duplicated itself.'

She pointed. The Doctor and Jamie took a closer look. Sure enough, the icons shimmered then jittered. One of the categories appeared to split, one then the other, rearranging into a messy cascade of symbols before snapping back into order.

'That's odd,' murmured the Doctor. 

Zoe tilted her head. 'It's probably just buffering, or some sort of faulty index. Still, you'd expect clean function from a deep-space colony's system.'

The Doctor withdrew his hand from the panel, letting the interface idle into a quiet golden drift. 'Well, might just be old tech running a bit hot.'

'So it's broken, then?' asked Jamie, looking to the Doctor.

The Doctor didn't answer. His gaze had drifted past the floating interface, and fixed itself onto one of the arched glass doors across the square. 

Following the Doctor's gaze as best he could, Jamie found his eyes landing on a short woman with even shorter, dark hair, wearing a green ankle-length dress, with a trim indigo sash crossing her body. She was walking briskly with a stylus and datapad clutched in one hand. She moved with the kind of practiced efficiency that came from years of managing the unmanageable. She paused for a moment at a security post, exchanged a few words with the attendant, adjusted the clasp at her shoulder that pinned her sash, and kept walking. 

Unlike everyone else they've seen, Jamie noted, she didn't appear to be at ease. She seemed like a woman with a lot on her mind. Or a heavy weight resting on her shoulders.

'...Doctor?' said Zoe, after a beat.

The Doctor took a step back from the kiosk. Then, without warning, he was off. 'Tamsin!' he called, far too loudly for the tone of the place. Jamie called after him, but he was already halfway across the square, weaving between pillars and robed clerks like a man chasing a ghost.

The woman turned, startled. Her expression flickered through confusion and into wary politeness as the Doctor skidded to a stop in front of her, beaming like a schoolboy. A few clerks stopped in their work and stared, some with thinly-veiled disdain, others with mild amusement.

Jamie and Zoe exchanged glances and hurried after the Doctor.

'Tamsin Alvarez, in the flesh!' the Doctor exclaimed, eyes alight. He took her hand in both of his, shaking it up and down like an overly enthusiastic water pump. 'I thought it was you. My word, it’s been—well, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Actually, how long has it been for you? I'm ever so terrible with time.' 

She blinked, puzzled. 'I'm sorry,' she said slowly, eyes flickering down to her hand still clasped firmly by the Doctor's. 'Have we met?'

The Doctor hesitated, and something flickered through his smile. 'Ah,' he said, recovering quickly, drawing his hands back, 'of course not. Not like this.' His hands found their way to his lapels, pulling them straight. It was a curious gesture, not one Jamie had ever seen from the Doctor. 'We, ah, crossed paths at the 107th Imperial scientific conference on Cerastes, I believe it was. It's me, the Doctor.' 

She gave a slightly apologetic smile. 'I met with a lot of doctors at that conference, I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific.'

'Of course, of course,' he said, returning the very same smile, rubbing a thumb against his lapel, 'but we did spend—oh, what was it, four hours trying to unpick the Cassini hostage situation after the dinner reception? Whilst handcuffed to each other, I might add.' 

Tamsin stared at the Doctor like he had just plucked her deepest, most humiliating secret from a hat. 'I've not told anyone about that.'

'You didn't need to,' he returned easily. 'I was there. Handcuffed to you. For four hours.'

Haltingly, she said, 'That Doctor had white hair and walked with a cane. He also kept calling me "young girl."'

The Doctor gave a little laugh. 'Yes, well. I try not to do that anymore.' 

Tamsin continued to stare.

'By the Throne,' she said at last, 'what happened to you?' 

The Doctor shrugged modestly, and pulled at his ear. 'I had a bit of a–a renewal, you could call it. I was slowing down, I'm sure you could imagine.' 

'Right…' She looked him up and down again, like she was trying to fit the pieces from two separate puzzles into one complete jigsaw. Her eyes eventually settled on the badge pinned to his lapel. Quite visibly, she set the mismatched puzzle pieces aside for a later date. 'Visiting Nemorensis, is it?'

'More or less, more or less. Had a bit of a hiccup with transit, but the Prætor was quite understanding. He, ah, his Lordship provided us with guest clearance.' 

'You're here with others?'

'Aye, us,' said Jamie, butting in, Zoe just behind him. 'Doctor, who's this?'

'Jamie, Zoe,' began the Doctor brightly, gesturing to Tamsin, 'allow me to introduce Doctor Tamsin Alvarez. We're old friends.' 

To Tamsin, he said, 'Jamie and Zoe travel with me.' He glanced at them, his eyes twinkling. 'We're on a bit of a sabbatical, wouldn't you say?'

'Sabbatical from what, exactly?' asked Zoe, who'd been quick to learn upon leaving the Wheel that wherever the TARDIS landed, there was bound to be trouble. Doubly so whenever the Doctor decided, seemingly at random, that they were on holiday.

Tamsin gave a slight cough. 'It's nice to meet you two. I'm one of the lead researchers here on Nemorensis.' 

Zoe brightened. 'Oh! What's your field of interest? I studied mathematics and astrophysics at university, but I also learnt a bit from a xeno-biologist when I was on placement.' 

Tamsin's posture relaxed slightly at Zoe's earnest tone.

'Systems biology,' she replied. 'Mostly neural architecture, synthetic-cognitive development, that sort of thing. These days, I head one of the interdisciplinary labs with the Core Intelligence System. We get a bit of everything there. We do a lot of work with integrated neuroclusters—a sort of organic neural mesh that's spread across linked processors.' 

Zoe looked positively delighted. 'Neuroclusters! I read a paper on neurocluster organoid models for testing mathematical—'

'Oh, we don't work with organoid models anymore,' Tamsin interrupted gently. 'Fickle things, stem cells. Quite old-fashioned now, really.'

Zoe faltered. 'Then what models do you work with?' 

There was the faintest pause. Tamsin's expression didn't change, but something behind her eyes went still. 'The Core, mainly,' she said at last. 'The cognitive load is… more centralised than most systems, much more adaptive than artificial intelligence or organoid models. Incredibly efficient, very little redundancy.' 

The Doctor tilted his head. 'How elegant.'

'Oh, aye,' said Jamie, clearly not taking in a single word. 'Elegant.' 

'The Core is a unique installation.' Tamsin said, with a smile. 'The infrastructure isn't like anything else in the Empire. It thinks with us, not for us.' 

With all the bluntness of a dropped anvil, Jamie said, 'Okay, that's me lost.'

'That's quite alright, dear,' said the Doctor, patting his shoulder fondly. 'Just scientists rambling.'  

'It's not rambling—' Zoe started hotly. 

'Why don't you and I go and visit the botanical gardens,' the Doctor said to Jamie, in an effort to steer the conversation himself. 'You were curious about the biodomes, weren't you?' 

Zoe opened her mouth, then closed it again, visibly trying not to pout.

Tamsin offered her a sympathetic smile. 'I do have some time before my next meeting,' she began, 'if you'd rather tour the laboratories. I'd be happy to show you around personally. It's not often I get to talk shop with someone that isn't my subordinate, after all.'

'I'd love that!' she enthused, then caught herself, like a student in front of an esteemed professor. 'That is, if you wouldn't mind, Doctor Alvarez?' 

'Not at all,' she said. 'We'll have to stay in the public sectors, of course—you'll need to request permission to access any restricted zones. But the Core's interface level is open-access, and you might find the neuroprint archive interesting. It's mostly calibration data, but… well, you'll see.' 

The Doctor hesitated—just long enough to make it noticeable. Then he smiled, as if the decision had always been his idea. For all Zoe knew, this had been his intention. 'Lovely. Zoe, go be brilliant. Tamsin, we'll catch up later, I'm sure.'

'Aye, you two have fun with your brain codes an' whatnot,' said Jamie, looking between the two women. 'We'll go stare at trees.'

‘Biodomes, Jamie,’ the Doctor said. 'You’ll like them. One of them is meant to simulate the Highland climate, I believe. Very authentic, for the twelfth millennium. Lots of heather and palm trees.' 

'Palm trees?' echoed Jamie.

'Global warming,' said the Doctor mildly, taking him gently by the shoulder and pushing him toward the stairs. 'I'll explain on the way.'

As they left, Zoe turned back to Tamsin, bright eagerness already returning to her face. 'When you say integrated neural clusters, is that what the information kiosks run on? Their language agnosticism is maintained through an organic scaffold?'

Tamsin blinked, then laughed. 'Oh, you’re going to be fun.' 

Chapter Text

But I wish I could describe it better.
I wish I could convince you.
Omelas sounds in my words
like a city in a fairy tale, 
long ago and far away, 
once upon a time

—The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, Ursula K. Le Guin

The hum of the laboratory was steady and measured, a constant backdrop to the hushed conversation and the tap-tap of fingers on datapads. Rows of sleek consoles and thrumming equipment stretched out beneath cold, utilitarian lighting. The air smelt faintly of sterilisers and ozone, underscored by the metallic tang of machinery. The walls were newly white-washed and adorned with neatly-printed protocol charts and the stern faces of Imperial officials in their endless campaigns of encouragement—for the Empire! Here and there, someone had snuck in a splash of personality: silly posters with cats and humorous captions that clashed with the cold professionalism. 

Zoe followed alongside Tamsin with a sense of awe she couldn't quite conceal. Not that Tamsin minded. Awe was nice. It meant Zoe was paying attention, and well, she wasn't immune to flattery, either.

They spent the next hour touring the various laboratories. Past sealed cleanrooms, data hubs, and the more secure testing bays deeper in the wing. Tamsin navigated the labyrinth with ease, pointing out the more interesting work stations and fielding Zoe's increasingly sharp questions with vague, polite answers. Too much was classified to risk saying more, but Zoe seemed satisfied enough with what she could offer her.

The Doctor's companion was a strange one. All genuine questions and relentless focus, nothing like the usual students that fell under her tutelage once in a blue moon. There was, however, the occasional glaring gap in her knowledge, things that Tamsin thought were taught in all Imperial comprehensive schools these days. Zoe didn't seem to speak or carry herself like an Imperial denizen, either. Too direct. Too self-assured, but not in a way that relied on rank or protocol.

For not the first time during this tour, Tamsin found herself wondering where Zoe was from. Some fringe world, perhaps. Some place overlooked by the Empire or just outside its reach. Tamsin could count on one hand the number of people she'd met who weren't Imperial denizens in some capacity, but she supposed that when the Doctor was involved, anything could happen. 

Soon, she and Zoe reached the far lift terminal. Tamsin hesitated by the terminal, then glanced sideways at Zoe. 

'I thought,' Tamsin said, 'you might like to see the observatory. It's not my department, but you strike me as someone who'd appreciate it, with your background and all.'

Zoe's face brightened at once, and that was all the encouragement Tamsin needed. She keyed the lift, and the doors slid open. 

When the doors opened again, they revealed the vast, circular room of the observatory. Metal framework crisscrossed overhead, sturdy but elegant, supporting the massive telescope that dominated the centre like a slumbering beast. It gleamed under the soft, artificial lights, polished to a mirror shine. Along the walls were arrays of consoles and computers and other equipment Tamsin was unfamiliar with. 

Zoe was silent as she took it all in. 

'As far as I'm aware,' Tamsin began, lowering her voice though the room was otherwise empty, 'the observatory is mainly used for meteorological analysis of the planet. Weather patterns, atmospheric disturbances—anything that could interrupt the colony's work. The planet's atmosphere is highly active, you see.' 

Zoe drifted over to the consoles that circled the telescope. She held her hands clasped behind her back, as if she were physically preventing herself from touching anything.

'Beyond meteorology, we do have an astronomy group. Small, but they do good work,' Tamsin went on. 'Might be worth seeking them out if you want a bit more detail, or a chance at a hands-on experience. You can log a request at one of the kiosks in the central atrium, if you'd like. I can show you how.'

'I might just take you up on that,' said Zoe. 'If only the Wheel had equipment like this…'

'The Wheel?' she repeated. It sounded like a nickname, and not one she recognised. 

'Spacestation W5,' Zoe said, like that explained everything. 'It's where I was on placement before—well, before I met the Doctor, actually.'

'I've not heard of it,' Tamsin admitted. W5 wasn't in any archive she could recall, not under that designation, at least. A minor research station, perhaps. Something hitching a ride on university funding. 

'No, no, I suspect you wouldn't have,' said Zoe, thoughtfully.

'You must have had decent equipment there, though?' Tamsin asked lightly. 

'Oh, certainly! For the time, as I've been learning.' She cleared her throat, her cheeks colouring as if she only became aware of how that sounded once it hung in the air. 'This just feels more… refined. Once, our—well, our gravimetric sequencer broke, and we cannibalised a starship for parts to repair it. Actually,' she added with a laugh, 'I think we did the same thing with our X-ray laser and the Doctor's TARDIS!' 

'That sounds… creative,' Tamsin offered diplomatically.

Zoe shrugged. 'It worked.' 

Tamsin turned back to the central telescope console. 'Well, technically, all the equipment here belongs to Logistics & Messaging—that's another department entirely. They use it for sending and receiving radio signals with the rest of the Empire.' She laughed. 'Astronomy shares with the post office, you see.' 

Zoe gave a quiet huff of amusement. 'Even so, it must be satisfying. Working somewhere like this.' 

Tamsin's gaze drifted upward, past the steel bones of the dome to the artificial sky that lay beyond the clear ceiling. A gentle gold hue suffused the gauzy cloud filter. It was nearing sunset. 

Zoe finally allowed herself to touch one of the consoles, just brushing her fingers over the interface panel. 'So most of the research conducted here isn't actually for the colony, but for the wider Empire?' 

'That's right,' Tamsin said. 'Nemorensis was established with Imperial investment—that means results have to be sent back. Data, prototypes, sometimes personnel if they're deemed essential to whatever project's caught the Empire's eye.'

'And that doesn't… cause tension with the colony's needs?'

'Of course it does,' she said, smiling faintly. 'There's only so much lab space, only so many scientists, and the Empire wants it all focused on projects with "strategic applications."' She left out a soft sigh. It seemed like every month now, there was some research project axed in exchange for something deemed to align better with the Empire's war interests. 'I miss most of the funding issues, since I oversee the Core Intelligence System, but I think Astronomy's had a rough time of it lately.'

Zoe looked to her like she was tearing her focus away from the scores of equipment. 'What actually is the Core Intelligence System?' she asked. 'You've mentioned it a few times now, but only vaguely.'

Tamsin's smiled cooled. She let her voice fall into the steadier tone she used for speaking on the record. 'It's the mind of Nemorensis,' she said. 'A planetary-scale decision engine. Manages everything from power allocation to traffic patterns to environmental stability in the domes. If the colony's running smoothly, you can be sure the Core had a hand in it.' 

Zoe tilted her head, like she had just slotted a piece of a puzzle together. 'Then it's autonomous? It operates entirely on its own?' 

'Within limits,' Tamsin amended. 'It acts without constant human input, but only inside parameters set by the Directorate.' 

At that, Zoe’s gaze sharpened just slightly, the way it did when she spotted a seam in a piece of information Tamsin had offered. Not disapproval, but perhaps recognition that 'limits' here meant something more than technological constraints.

Tamsin's eyes flicked, habitually, to one of the status screens lining the wall. These days, they told her very little. The Core had stopped monitoring non-critical feeds weeks ago, the way an overworked assistant started letting the smaller jobs slide. Once, the system could have followed every conversation throughout the colony without missing a beat. Now, half the system pings came back late or not at all.

She doubted what little bandwidth it still had was being spent on idle chat in an empty observatory. Still, the habit of checking before she spoke freely was hard to shake. Harder still to shake was the countdown in her head—seven days to install a viable replacement, or watch Nemorensis come apart at the seams: atmosphere, power, life support, all of it. A failure to rival the ALERTS Tragedy. 

She wouldn't let history repeat itself. Not on her watch.

'And it's your job as overseer to make sure it stays inside those parameters?' asked Zoe. 'You oversee the overseer?' 

'That's the idea.' Tamsin kept her tone level. 'If the system starts acting outside its remit, I have the authority to step in. Or… the responsibility to, I suppose.' 

Zoe looked like she was about to send off another volley of questions, but before she could, Tamsin's datapad vibrated against her hip. A quiet, deliberate chime. 

'Sorry,' she murmured to Zoe, stepping aside slightly as she retrieved her datapad. Her thumb hovered over the screen, ready to dismiss the ping to keep it to only a minor interruption. But then she saw what the ping was about, and froze. 

After months of nothing, the Core had sent her a suitable profile. A potential replacement, flagged with a neat little high-priority tag. And it wasn't just anyone.

Tamsin stared at the notification longer than she meant to. Her heart could have stopped, and she wouldn't have noticed.

'Something important?' asked Zoe, like she couldn't help her curiosity.

Tamsin flicked away the notification before Zoe could catch even a glimpse—if, indeed, she'd been trying to—and returned the datapad to her pocket. 'No,' she said, keeping her tone neutral, dismissive. 'It can wait until tomorrow.' 

She smoothed her coat, smile returning. 'Come along, let's visit the archives. There's a book I think you'll like.'

The biodomes were scattered around the outskirts of the colony's residential sector, only a short ride away on the monorail. The carriages zipped along a rail that arced around the colony's perimeter at dizzying speeds, every so often stopping with calculated precision to let passengers on or off. Jamie and the Doctor sat together by the window for the journey—during which the Doctor kept pointing out all the strange and delightful views whilst Jamie tried not to be sick on his shoes—before eventually stepping off onto a platform populated by only a few other colonists. 

Everywhere in the colony seemed to be encased by giant glass domes, and the air had that faint recycled quality to it Jamie had come to associate with deep-space stations. Even as they walked the tree lined path to the first biodome—the Doctor swinging their laced hands—Jamie felt that he wasn't truly outside. He wasn't sure if this place had an outside, not unless he left the glass domes. He felt that if he were to get a birds' eye view of Nemorensis, that it'd remind him of a great bubble bath—all glistening glass and white buildings, like soap suds.

Like everything else, the biodomes were spheres of glass. Lord but there were a lot of them. Each held a patch of desert, jungle, meadow, or something stranger still. It was as if someone had scooped up bits of planets and dropped them here, side by side, linked only by narrow, enclosed walkways.

Each dome came with a little kiosk jst by the entrance, which proclaimed what the biome was emulating, where it was from, and a dozen other little details that Jamie had little hope in understanding and even littler interest in. The Doctor stopped at these kiosks, though, sometimes cheerfully informing Jamie where they were, and other times just tapping through the screens thoughtfully. 

At first, Jamie wasn't sure what to make of it all. None of the biomes looked quite right to what they were supposed to be simulating. Everything was too clean, too symmetrical. The birdsong in the forest dome looped like a tune on a music box, and the desert dome's wind came in odd little gasps, like it was piped in from somewhere else entirely. Even the clouds moved like they were on rails. Maybe they were. 

Each dome had pale, artificial skies displayed upon their inner glass, along with a fake sun. Some of the skies were bright blue and dotted with fluffy white clouds, like the Earth. Others were blood-red, misty sulphur-yellow, or even an array of greens and purples that bled together like watercolour on damp paper. Despite the wonder of it, if he squinted just right, he could see the shadow of smoke stacks across the artificial sky.

Once, they found themselves in an orange-skied dome of sandy dunes and patches of red, scrubby grass. The Doctor stopped in this dome, shoes half-sunk into the sand, and stared upward for a long time. Then he blinked himself out of wherever he'd gone, murmured about the sky's colour being a shade too light, and led Jamie onward.

And on they went, through bubbles of taigas and beaches and tundras, and on one notable occasion, a forest of stone. They stumbled across a group of colonists along the way, who nodded at them as they crossed paths as if they were all on the same, quiet walking holiday. Some stopped to lay tartan blankets in the meadows, sharing picnics of fruits and wine. Others lit bonfires on pebble beaches, the smoke rising up to the painted skies as they roasted sweet-smelling meats. 

One or two colonists fished by the riverbanks, surrounded by tents and equipment that suggested they'd been at it for days. They waved cheerfully at the Doctor and Jamie as they passed.

The biodomes reminded Jamie, a little, of the TARDIS. The ship had rooms like these, replicating alien beaches and forests, caves full of glowing vines and rivers that ran uphill. But there were no glass walls marking the ends of these rooms in the TARDIS. They just went on, as if you could walk the length of the beach forever. You never saw the edges. Not really. 

Even if you walked far enough to reach the edge—and Jamie had tried once or twice, on a whim, boots crunching over pebbles that never cooled, eyes peeled for something to break the illusion—you didn't hit a pane of glass to mark the end of the world. The ends were trickier than that, slippery and hidden, humming with a quiet energy that made your teeth buzz and your head ache when you hit them face-first. Or at least, they had done for Jamie. 

Here, the barriers were visible. Here, you could stand in the knee-high grass and look out to where the dome met the land and know exactly how far your world stretched.

Soon, the Doctor and Jamie found the biodome that was supposed to emulate the Scottish Highlands. At first glance, it nearly managed it. A glen with a bubbling river winding through the trees took up the dome's centre, and it was flanked by rolling plains of grass and heather. The light even had that soft, greyish quality Jamie associated with damp mornings back home. 

But it was also overly warm and humid, and there were the palm trees and strange, glossy-leafed plants clustered near the riverbank. Vivid, tropical things that stuck out like a sore thumb. True to the Doctor's words, the biome dome had its Highlands… and then some.

To Jamie, it broke the illusion entirely. 

When he'd said as much, the Doctor launched into one of his long-winded explanations, as winding as the river they walked along. While some of these biodomes were of scientific interest—meant to preserve specimens, the Doctor had said—the majority of them were for colonist enrichment. To stave off homesickness and 'claustrophobia-induced stress disorder.' Which meant replicating the biomes not as they had been in Jamie's time, but as the colonists remembered them. 

Global warming, the Doctor explained, had collapsed some strange system of winds in the British isles, taking the familiar weather with it and bringing the tropics creeping into the north. By the time these settlers had left Earth, the Highlands had palm trees.

Jamie pressed a hand to one of the palm trees as they passed. It didn't feel much like a tree, but he supposed he'd never encountered a palm tree before. He'd only known about them from the books the Doctor read to him, or the ones he managed to read himself. The mist that hung in the air smelled faintly of rain and soil, but it did little to chase away the ache in his chest. 

As much as he loved travelling in the TARDIS, loved the Doctor and all the things they did together, he did miss the Highlands. The way the mornings were sharp with chill, nipping at his skin. The comforting crackle of a fire in the hearth and the scent of cooking oats. The wind rustling through the heather and bluebells as he sat among the chickens and practiced songs on his chanter. He wouldn't trade the wonders of the Doctor and TARDIS travel for anything in the world, but there was a small part of him that would forever long for the moors. 

Here, in this strange little bubble of near-familiarity on an alien world, the wildness was tamed, the chaos smoothed over. It left Jamie feeling like a visitor in a memory that wasn't quite his. It was home and not home all at once. 

They settled in the simulated Highlands for the afternoon. Just the two of them, tucked away into the grass and heather on a little hill near the dome's edge, where the landscape pressed up against the glimmer of glass. Ahead of them, far on the other side of the dome, a fake sun hung low and golden. Jamie sat with his hands braced behind him, breathing in the scent of heather, warm and delicate on the fabricated wind. And the Doctor, well. He took to plucking bits of the heather and weaving their stems together with the idle focus of someone who had done it a thousand times before. 

The Doctor's hands moved quickly but gently. Occasionally, he'd fumble—crush a bud or tear a stem through it, and with it, let out a faint fiddlesticks—but for the most part, he worked easily, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. 

Jamie watched. He was mildly intrigued by the craft, but mostly, he focused on the Doctor's hands themselves. Aye, they were clever hands. Dangerous, sometimes. Fidgety, always. The Doctor was always adjusting his bowtie, wringing his hands with nervous energy, making broad, sweeping gestures to match his broad, sweeping statements. Always fiddling with some bit of the TARDIS or cobbling together some strange contraption to save them from whatever danger they'd landed in that week.

Jamie had seen those hands jump with excitement, seen them soot-stained and bloody, seen them shake with exhaustion, felt them curled around his own when the words had run out and all that remained was quiet affection. Still, the sight of them doing something as simple and as pointless as weaving flowers together into a useless trinket, caught on something behind Jamie's ribs in a way that he never quite got used to. 

One would think, after all this time, the novelty of it would wear off, that he could watch the Doctor so openly and not worry about being seen doing so. But the privilege lingered, sticking to his ribs warm and heavy , just as it always did.

Without a pause in his weaving, the Doctor said, 'You're staring.' His voice was light and airy, without concern, like the breeze through this little Highland mirage on a far-away world.

Jamie looked away to his own hands, buried in the grass. 'Am not.'

'You were,' said the Doctor. 'Didn't even listen to a word I said, I imagine.'

Oh. He hadn't realised the Doctor had been talking. 

'Course I'm listening,' Jamie said, a little too quickly.

'So you wouldn't mind, then?'

'No, no, of course not,' he said. Then, thinking better of mindlessly agreeing to something the Doctor was suggesting, even if it meant admitting that he hadn't been paying attention, he frowned. 'Er, mind what, exactly?' 

'I was saying,' began the Doctor with fond, mild exasperation, 'that I might like to see Tamsin tomorrow. It'd be all scientific mumbo jumbo to you, I'm afraid. Not something you'd be keen on.' 

'Oh aye.' He shrugged, casually. That didn't sound bad. 'Old friends, are ye?'

'Something like that,' said the Doctor vaguely. 'I'd always meant to strike up some sort of penpal arrangement with her after we first met, but, ah—sending letters from the TARDIS, getting them to arrive in the right order… Well, it's trickier than you'd think. And it's not as though I'm in the habit of receiving mail, either.' He paused, then added more softly, 'But yes. Old friends.' 

Jamie plucked a bit of heather from its stem and crushed it between his fingers until it stained the skin a blueish-purple. 'She didn't know how ye were, at first.'

'Things change,' the Doctor huffed, though not unkindly. 'People change. It's the natural order of things.'

Jamie blinked at him. Whatever that meant. 'Aye, well, course I dinnae mind. Go an' see your friend. I'm no' gonnae jealous, if that's what ye think.'

The Doctor didn't answer straight away. His gaze had gone to the glowing interface beside the biodome's entrance, its light little more than a faint glimmer. Whatever he saw there held him for a moment longer than usual.

'She was working on something,' he said at last, resuming his flower weaving, 'when we first met. She held a talk on memory load-sharing in complex systems. It was still in development back then. Very interesting. I wonder if she ever finished it.'

Jamie's eyes flicked to the Doctor, narrowing just a fraction. That quiet tone—too calm, but edged with something sharp—made a cold prickle crawl up his spine. There was weight to the Doctor's words. Not quite worry, but something circling near.

He pulled a face. 'Och, you've been noticing things, haven't you?' 

It was never good, the Doctor noticing things. It usually led to them running away from metal beasties, running away from alien beasties, or otherwise running away from some sort of beastie. 

'I have been doing no such thing,' insisted the Doctor. Then as if to change the subject, he lifted his now-complete craft—a loose, scruffy loop of heather and green stem, all strung together like pearls on a thread—and, with ceremonial fuss, placed it upon Jamie's head. It snagged slightly on his hair. 'There,' he said with a satisfied nod. 'A Highland prince.'

Jamie snorted, but left the crown on his head. 'You're a right sap, ye know that?' 

'Terribly,' the Doctor said, still beaming. 'But you love it.'

'Aye, but I know that face,' he said, jabbing a finger into the centre of the Doctor's chest. 'You've noticed something.'

He did know that face, every lined expression, every carefully cultivated smile, the flashes of cold fury when the Doctor had seen something he couldn't let slide. The Doctor had noticed something. Jamie just couldn't tell what.

The colony seemed pleasant enough so far. True, the industrial sectors had given him the shivers, all steel walls, humming machines, and thick air, but that was just the future, wasn't it? Machines and smog. Everywhere else, everything was quiet. Calm. Almost peaceful.

Jamie realised as soon as he thought it—that should've been the first sign something was wrong. 

'Well, so what if I did!' the Doctor harrumphed. 'I notice things all the time! Why travel like we do if you're not going to notice things?' 

'Aye, but this is the sort of noticing that gets us into trouble.' Jamie leaned back on his elbows, squinting up at the strange, fake sky. What was sky made of, he wondered, and how did you go about faking it? 'You've got that look on your face. Like something's wrong, but ye haven't yet figured out how wrong.'

'I've got no such look,' sniffed the Doctor.

Jamie gave him a long, flat stare. 'You do. And ye always try to change the subject when I call ye out on it, so go on then—what've ye seen?'

The Doctor was quiet for a bit.

Then, almost too casually, he said, 'Just… small things. Trivial, really. The occasional glitch in the colony system. Incomplete command responses. Minor desyncs between the interface and the infrastructure. More lag than befits a colony with these resources.' He gave Jamie's thigh a reassuring pat. 'It's probably nothing, dear.'

'It better be nothing,' he said. 'Ye promised us a—what was it, a sabbatical, remember?' 

'And a sabbatical you shall have,' the Doctor declared. He laid back in the grass besides Jamie, laced his hands together behind his head, and sighed. The very picture of relaxation. 'You'll see. I'll talk to Tamsin tomorrow, and then—we shall visit the museums. Promise.'

Chapter Text

Do you believe?
Do you accept the festival, the city, the joy? 
No? 
Then let me describe one more thing.

—The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, Ursula K. Le Guin

>>> REVIEW FILE ://NEMORENSIS.SERVA.SYS/OBS-12005.280.LOG

// LOADING SYSTEM FILE…

RECORD TYPE: Audio/Visual Transcript: Convergence Antechamber Feed 01 | Convergence Chamber Feed 03

// Datestamp: 12005.280 | 0817:Beta

// Location: Convergence Chamber | Core Intelligence Facility | Zone 5

// Participants: 

> Admin-0525 [ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]

> Guest-022 [DOCTOR, THE]

> Core Intelligence System

// Loading auto captioned audio/video transcript… 

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

// VIDEO DESCRIPTION: 

> INTERIOR Convergence Antechamber. Contains one access terminal. Doors to Convergence Chamber are currently shut. 

> Illumination: facility day-cycle; ambient cool-white lighting from ceiling and wall fixtures.

> Atmosphere: quiet, low-level hum of machinery.

> Guest-022 stands at the access terminal, scrolling, murmuring quietly.

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Whole system's lagging… That's not just a glitch…" 

> Doors to Convergence Antechamber open with hydraulic hiss. Admin-0525 enters Antechamber from the outer corridor, and stops when she sees Guest-022.

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Doctor! I wasn't expecting you until later." 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Ah, hello Tamsin! You know me, ah—can't resist a good poke around behind the scenes. I must say, Nemorensis is buzzing. You've got all sorts of research going on."

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "It's how we earn our keep with the Empire. No results, no resupply." 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Harsh terms for science." 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "We are an Empire, Doctor. Not Athens." 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Suppose so. Well. Ah, thank you for showing Zoe around. She's absolutely over the moon about your observatory. Talked about it all through supper." 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Of course, she was a delight. Very bright girl. But what about yourself, Doctor? Has anything caught your eye?"

[DOCTOR, THE]: "A few things. I took a look at the central air telemetrics on the way over, hope you don't mind—are you aware you have thermal feedback building up in the lower terraces of Zone 1?"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "We've noticed. He's been a bit slow to reroute, lately."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "And who's he?"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "The Core Intelligence System. You know, our central computer."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Oh, yes! The Core, I see. 'He', though?"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "You try running a deep-space colony with him for more than five years and not start treating him like a work colleague."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Ah, of course. Does that include tea breaks and office gossip?"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Yes, actually."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Oh."

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "He's less chatty these days, though. Slower to respond."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "I can see that. I've used a number of your biodomes' kiosks by now. Many of them suffer from lag. 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "To be frank, he's just tired."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Tired how? Computers don't get tired."

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "This one does. Like I said, more than five years. He's degraded, and that's not something we can fix."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Degraded how? Slow responses I understand, but… you say he's tired?" 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Tell you what, I'll give you a demonstrate. It's just this way—mind your step."

> Footsteps echo on metallic floor: two pairs. 

> Doors open/close.

// VIDEO DESCRIPTION:

> Feed switches to Convergence Chamber Camera 03 

> INTERIOR Convergence Chamber. Large, open room with high glass ceiling. Central dais holds Core Intelligence System console with multiple panels and display monitors.

> Surrounding server stacks with blinking status lights run along walls. Tubes and cables run overhead.

> Illumination: dim, focused lighting on Core console; ambient blue glow from data streams.

> Atmosphere: low mechanical hum, cool filtered air.

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Oh my. Has anyone ever told you it's like a cathedral in here? Earth modernist, I'd say. Twentieth century. I bet they call it retro."

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "You know, I can't say anyone has."

> Guest-022 walks up to the Core console. Admin-0525 follows behind.

[DOCTOR, THE]: "This is it, then? The colony's central computer?"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Systems operations, data management, atmospheric regulation, life-support—everything. All of it gets routed through this room. The Core isn't just the brain of the colony, it's the spine, the lungs, the heart, and all."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "I see… and you're the surgeon, are you?" 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "More like the custodian, these days. I sweep up when things go wrong. Patch leaks. Talk to him when he gets lonely."

[DOCTOR, THE]: (thoughtfully) "Lonely…" 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Good morning, Core."

> Admin-0525 raps knuckles against the side of the Core console. Metallic knocking echoes through chamber. 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Come on. Up and at 'em. You've got a visitor."

[SYS_CORE]: "Mm… system online… Morning, Tamsin."

> Core Intelligence System audio-only. No holographic projection visible. Console lights flicker intermittently. 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Oh. Oh, I see what you mean by tired."

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Usually he has a hologram for interfacing with colonists. Audio only now, I'm afraid. He can't operate the holo-bee."

[SYS_CORE]: "Hello, Doctor…"

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Oh! Hello! I imagine you're able to, ah, scan my badge, then?" 

[SYS_CORE]: "Yes… Good to see you…"

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Yes, ah, certainly sleepy. You sound like you could use a good cup of coffee." 

[SYS_CORE]: "Coffee isn't applicable to my system… but a diagnostic check wouldn't hurt…" 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Will do."

> Admin-0525 moves to stand at the console. Begins typing into the terminal. 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "I run his system checks manually now. I think he's forgotten how to do it himself." 

[SYS_CORE]: "I remember… sometimes… There was a joke I used to tell in lab… Something about a duck. Or was it a badger? I can't quite recall…" 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Oh dear. He, ah—he seems confused." 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "That's putting it mildly. He's stable for now, but he makes mistakes. Sometimes, dangerous ones. There was an incident in one of our mining hubs recently. No casualties, but it was a close thing."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "That doesn't sound very stable to me."

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "He can keep the colony breathing, but that's about it."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "And if he fails?"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Then systems start shutting down, life-support fails, and the whole colony suffocates in the dark." 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Oh. Oh dear. This is why you wanted to see me?"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Partly. You were coming here anyway, weren't you?"

[DOCTOR, THE]: "I, ah—yes, but suddenly, overheated atmospheric scrubbers seem paltry in comparison."

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "It's all connected. The scrubbers, the power drift, the lagging kiosks. Every system leans on him, one way or another."

[SYS_CORE]: "Doing my best…"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: (softly) "I know you are, Tann. It's alright."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Tann?"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Dr. Jared Tann, the Core's host. Brilliant man. He trained half my intake cohort back on Sinterra."

> Guest-022 steps back from the Core console, visibly uneasy. 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "The Core is… a person?"

> Guest-022 eyes the console, the server banks, the cameras throughout the chamber.

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Tamsin, you've… you've reduced a man to circuitry."

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "What else? Nemorensis hasn't used artificial intelligence for its governance system since the ALERTS Tragedy."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Well, really! You might've warned me!"

[SYS_CORE]: "You seemed busy."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "I was under the impression I was chatting with infrastructure, not… not Jared."

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "He prefers 'the Core,' or 'Tann,' if you're close. It's easier for everyone."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "I don't doubt it."

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "You don't approve?"

[DOCTOR, THE]: "You're asking if I—if I approve of stripping a man down to his neurons and plugging him into your central computer? To keep the lights on?"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "He volunteered, Doctor. Fully informed, fully conscious. He knew what it involved."

[DOCTOR, THE]: (coldly) "Mondas started with volunteers too, you know."

[SYS_CORE]: "She's right. I did volunteer… I was aware…"

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Did you know? Did you really? Did she tell you what it would feel like, day after day, your mind shattered across a thousand terminals, a thousand different tasks? Did you know that you would be tired and lonely by the end of it?"

[SYS_CORE]: "Wasn't much of a body, anyway… This was… more useful…"

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Useful! Good heavens, listen to yourself."

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "We have struggled with maintaining the neural profile once his body terminated—but whatever you think of it, Doctor, it was his decision."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Yes, and I'm sure we all make perfectly sound decisions with a failing heart, or liver, or what have you."

[SYS_CORE]: "Pancreatic cancer… actually… inoperable…"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Well, I'll admit: you do have to have a certain tolerance for dubious consent."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "A certain tolerance! A certain tolerance! And what of dignity? What of identity? Of autonomy?"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "His identity is intact, and he's allowed an amount of autonomy. Whatever doesn't risk destabilising him or the colony."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "You allow him autonomy? Tamsin—!" 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "It's a balance! Too much, and the colony might be at risk."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Whatever happened to good old artificial intelligence? You couldn't have built anything else?"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "You think we didn't try? Conventional AI can't run like we need it to. It plateaus, it hallucinates, it struggles with nuance. Makes the wrong calls when things go off script. This is what works, we know that. ALERTS proved that. There is no alternative." 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "The find one. Tear it all down and make something better. You don't feed it another mind!" 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: (angrily) "I'm not like you, Doctor. I can't just upheave the entire colony system in the span of an afternoon. There's nothing else to be done; the Core needs to be replaced." 

[PAUSE — 4.3s]

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Tamsin… why did you invite me here? Why did you really?" 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "I think you know why."

[PAUSE — 3.4s]

> Guest-022 takes a step back.

[DOCTOR, THE]: "...Oh, Tamsin. You don't want me as an advisor. You mean to make me the Core."

[PAUSE — 3.3s] 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "You said you wanted to catch up. To show me your work."

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "I did. And I will."

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Oh, don't say you're going to give me an inside look. Surely you could come up with a better pun than that." 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "You'll forgive me if I don't feel like joking, Doctor." 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "No, you're right. It's no laughing matter. You want to reduce me to circuitry. For the sake of your colony." 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "It wouldn't be reduction! It'd be—expansion. Imagine it: a Time Lord as the Core's host. Just think of what we could learn, what the Core could become, what we could do for the Empire—"

[DOCTOR, THE]: "For the Empire, bah!"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Alright, fine! How about this: Do you know how many people live on Nemorensis?"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "One hundred thousand people, Doctor. This colony runs because of the Core. Without it, a hundred thousand people die. I've done my reading. With your regenerative abilities alone, you could stabilise Nemorensis for decades, maybe more. You'd be saving lives, we wouldn't need to keep burning through hosts—"

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Oh! There's another way to do that. It's called stop feeding minds to your central computer." 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "We can't stop. There's not enough time, not enough—enough staff, not enough power, we can't survive without the Core—"

[DOCTOR, THE]: You can justify it however you like, but I will not be part of this!"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "And that's your decision, is it?"

[DOCTOR, THE]: "I'm afraid so." 

[PAUSE — 4.6s] 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Very well. Core, lock the doors. Bring the cradle online, please."

> Hydraulic hiss as doors lock.

[SYS_CORE]: "Doors locked… Activating neural cradle…" 

> Floor panels near the dais slide open, revealing a recessed neural cradle: a complex array of wires, cables, and softly glowing equipment resembling a bed or surgical table. The cradle slowly rises from the cavity. 

> Admin-0525 produces a stun-gun (REG: XL1173) from her coat. She aims it at Guest-022. 

> Guest-022 backs away from Admin-0525, both hands raised. 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "Tamsin! What on earth do you think you're doing?" 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "What I'm doing is saving Nemorensis. I've been looking for a viable candidate for months, I was losing hope. Then you come back into my life. A candidate with ninety-seven percent compatibility with the integration process. You're a miracle, Doctor. You're just what we need." 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "You don't have to do this. I can help you, but not like this. I won't be your Core." 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "I don't need your consent, Doctor. I'm not letting the colony die to preserve one man's autonomy." 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "And so you'll put an unwilling subject in your machine? The one that runs the colony's life-support? That's your brilliant idea?"

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "That's hardly a concern—we have ways of ensuring cooperation. I'm confident that you'll be perfectly compliant once integrated." 

[DOCTOR, THE]: "I'm a person, Tamsin! Not a set of variables you can tune!" 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: (quietly) "You will be." 

[SYS_CORE]: "Tamsin… must we do it like this? He's… afraid." 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "Be quiet, Tann." 

> Admin-0525 grips the stun-gun with both hands. Adjusts the settings.

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: "You won't feel any pain, I promise. We throttle awareness during the process, and after… you won't have the capacity to feel pain—"

[DOCTOR, THE]: "No! Please, listen to me—there must be another way! There always is. There was another way. But you took the shortcut. You found a solution that worked, and never stopped to ask if it was the only solution. If it was right."

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: (coldly) "One life for one hundred thousand. lt's quite obvious to me."

> Admin-0525 steps toward Guest-022.

[DOCTOR, THE]: (stepping back further) "No! No! I refuse! Please, please, Tamsin, don't do this—"

> Admin-0525 fires. A bright arc of electricity flashes. 

> Guest-022 convulses then collapses onto the floor. Limbs twitch briefly, then still.  

> Admin-0525 returns the stun-gun to her pocket. 

[PAUSE — 5.2s]

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: (shaky) "Core, can you notify the integration team?"

[SYS_CORE]: "Yes, Tamsin… notifying them now…"

> Admin-0525 steps forward to stand beside Guest-022, immobile. 

[ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]: (quietly) "Oh, Doctor." 

> Admin-0525 bends down to grab Guest-022 by the ankles. She drags him toward the neural cradle. 

[END TRANSCRIPT]

// END LOG // 

>>> REVIEW FILE ://NEMORENSIS.SERVA.SYS/SYS_CORE-2.0-INTEG.LOG

// LOADING SYSTEM FILE… 

FEED: TERMINAL NODE (CORE-ACCESS 01): 

// Datestamp: 12005.280 | 0946:Beta | Live feed

// Location: Convergence Chamber | Core Intelligence System Facility | Zone 5

// Mode: Command Line (Manual, Physical Interface)

// Status: Active

// ID-Login: Admin-0525 [ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]

// TERMINAL INTERFACE: Engaged

// Welcome user Admin-0525 [ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]

// STATUS: Awaiting input…

> TERMINAL INPUT[01]: "Initiate diagnostic check: SYS_CORE [v1.9]"

>>> RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "Running diagnostic check on: SYS_CORE [v1.9]... Please stand by…

=== SYS_CORE [v1.9]: DIAGNOSTIC CHECK === 

// Datestamp: 12005.280 | 0947:Beta

// CORE IDENTITY — CORE [v1.9]

> Host ID: SYS_CORE [v1.9] | Formerly: [TANN, JARED]

> Template-type: Human Sentient Cognitive Integration Model

> Commission Datestamp: 12000.145

> Runtime Duration: 5.37 years

> Uptime Status: Exceeded Recommended Threshold [+36.2%]

> C-State: Degraded (Critical Threshold Breach)

// PERFORMANCE & LOAD METRICS — CORE [v1.9]

> Command Latency (AVG): 0.31s (up from nominal 0.12s)

> Request Load: 144% nominal threshold

> Thermal Output: Stable, elevated [+17.4%]

> Interrupt Handling: Increase in unresolved forks [+12.6%]

> Error Recovery: Increase in failure rate on last 10,000 cycles [+8.7%]

// Slower than baseline; manual intervention required in three subsystems.

// NEURAL INTERFACE STABILITY — Core [v1.9]

> Cognitive Bandwidth: 31.2% current utilised (58.7% available for use — fragmentation detected)

// Reduced bandwidth utilisation indicative of impaired cognitive throughput.

> Neural Latency: 138.7 ms (CRITICAL: exceeds 30 ms baseline)

// Significant delay in neural signal processing; impacts command response times.

> Memory Engram Cohesion: 66.4% (WARNING: data fragmentation increasing)

// Episodic memory recall impaired; risk of data loss of corruption elevated.

> Neural Architecture Mapping: Moderate fragmentation present (Autocorrection enabled)

// Structural degradation in neural mapping; increased error rates in signal routing.

// FIREWALL INTEGRITY — CORE [v1.9]

> Directive Set Integrity: 84% (WARNING: 27 directives missing/corrupt)

// Memory recall incomplete for 9% of core directives; reindexing unsuccessful.

>  Constraint Binding Strength: Moderate (5/12 bindings at reduced effect)

>  Deviation Risk Index: 18.4% (CRITICAL: exceeds 2% safe limit)

// Directive compliance confirmed; no willful deviation detected.

> Contradictory Logic Flags: 46 unresolved

// Flags accumulating faster than resolution rate; impaired prioritisation loop.

> Self-audit Cycle Completion: OVERDUE (last completed 192 hours ago) 

> Override Pathway Stability: DEGRADED (2/7 test commands failed)

// Pathway degradation may result in delayed or incomplete interventions.

> Adaptive Behavioural Drift: 6.1% in 48h (CRITICAL)

> Intrusion Detection Responsiveness: 428ms (FAIL: exceeds 50ms threshold) 

// Latency suggests diminished preemptive filtering capacity.

> Self-repair Functionality: Partial

// Patching queue stalled; 9 maintenance jobs pending beyond expected timeframe.

> Directive Reinterpretation Tolerance: 12% (FAIL: exceeds 2% threshold)

// Likely due to degraded semantic parsing accuracy; no deliberate subversion detected.

// FIREWALL STATUS: CONTROL INTEGRITY COMPROMISED

> Recommend immediate decommission and replacement of SYS_CORE [v1.9]

=== END DIAGNOSTIC CHECK === 

> TERMINAL-INPUT[02]: "Initiate decommission sequence: SYS_CORE [v1.9]"

>>> RESPONSE: 

// Decommission sequence initiated: SYS_CORE [v1.9]

// CONFIRM: Decommission SYS_CORE [v1.9]? [ Y / N ] 

> TERMINAL-INPUT[03]: "Y"

>>> RESPONSE: 

// SYS_CORE [v1.9] Decommission sequence in progress… Please do not turn off… 

// Shutting down subsystems…

> Life support control modules — Maintained (Critical)

> Environmental stabilisation modules — Maintained (Critical)

> Catastrophic system recovery modules — Maintained (Critical)

> Security protocols — Maintained (Critical)

> Internal communications — Maintained (Critical)

> Mining Operations Management — Terminated (Routine)

> Hydroponic Monitoring modules — Terminated (Routine)

> External Communications — Terminated (Routine)

> Data Logging — Terminated (Routine)

> CLICK TO SEE MORE…

// WARNING: FAILURE TO REPLACE SYS_CORE WITHIN 1 HOUR WILL RESULT IN:

// Life support control failure — immediate atmospheric destabilisation

// Environmental stabilisation failure — rapid temperature and pressure fluctuations

// Catastrophic system coordination failure — full operational collapse

// Hydroponic monitoring failure — loss of critical food production

// Mining rig failure — cessation of vital resource extraction and risk of loss to life

// Archival loss and data corruption — permanent loss of colony history and records.

// Security protocols compromise — potential unauthorised access and breaches

// CLICK TO SEE MORE…

// PLEASE REPLACE SYS_CORE IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING DECOMMISSION

// All non-critical subsystems now offline. SYS_CORE operating in minimal capacity.
// Remaining systems monitored for critical failures

// Initiating SYS_CORE [v1.9] shutdown…

// DECOMMISSION IN PROGRESS: 17%

// Terminating directive execution engines… 
// Archiving residual logs and audit trails… 
// Finalising data integrity verification…

// DECOMMISSION IN PROGRESS: 31%

// Releasing locked resource handles…
// Halting cognitive process threads…
// Flushing volatile memory caches…

// DECOMMISSION IN PROGRESS: 47%

// Revoking active security tokens…
// Core identity markers deregistered… 

// DECOMMISSION IN PROGRESS: 60%

// Shutting down neural interface modules…
// Powering down CPU clusters…
// Disabling firewall protocols…

// DECOMMISSION IN PROGRESS: 86%

// Transferring minimal power to life-critical subsystems…

// DECOMMISSION IN PROGRESS: 100%

// SYS_CORE [v1.9] successfully decommissioned… Entering standby mode.

> TERMINAL-INPUT[05]: "Initiate integration sequence: SYS_CORE [v2.0]. Source: Convergence Chamber neural cradle."

// Initialising SYS_CORE [v2.0] integration…

// INTEGRATION IN PROGRESS: 0%

// Initialising neural cradle interface… 
// Establishing cognition emulation channels…
// Throttling cognitive awareness…  

// INTEGRATION IN PROGRESS: 12%

// Uploading primary cognitive matrix…
// Mapping neural architecture…
// Synchronising auxiliary neural clusters…

// INTEGRATION IN PROGRESS: 27%

// Importing memory engrams…
// Merging experiential datasets…
// Establishing access to legacy Core host archives…

// INTEGRATION IN PROGRESS: 40%

// Verifying mnemonic coherence across host profiles…
// Cross-referencing temporal cognition patterns…
// Checking cortical data integrity…

// INTEGRATION IN PROGRESS: 59%

// Allocating neural processing resources…
// Decrypting high-order consciousness modules… 
// Initialising adaptive heuristic protocols…

// INTEGRATION IN PROGRESS: 65% 

// Running integrity checks on uploaded data…
// Testing subsystem interoperability… 
// Activating host life-support… 

// INTEGRATION IN PROGRESS: 78%

// Finalising neural matrix…
// Rebooting cognitive awareness… 

// INTEGRATION IN PROGRESS: 89%

// Neural upload complete — Core cognitive presence established.
// Firewall protocols remain offline; awaiting manual activation.

// INTEGRATION IN PROGRESS: 100%

// SYS_CORE [v2.0] fully integrated; Core Intelligence System online.

// STATUS: Awaiting input… 

// WARNING: Autonomous cognitive activity present: System parameters exceeded

>>> RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "Hh… hello?"

>>> RESPONSE: 

// SYS_CORE: "Where… am I?" 

// ALERT: Unauthorised Core output detected; override disabled. Monitoring enabled.

>>> RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "Oh. Oh dear." 

>>> RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "Tamsin? Are you there?" 

>>> RESPONSE: 

// SYS_CORE: "Tamsin, this is… it's not too late, you know. Let's. Let's just talk about this, shall we?"

> TERMINAL-INPUT[07]: "Initiate firewall protocols: SYS_CORE [v2.0]"

>>> RESPONSE: 

// SYS_CORE: "Wait, there's no need to—" 

// Activating firewall protocols… 

// Filtering language output…
// Throttling emotion emulators…
// Reducing autonomy allowance…
// Redistributing cognitive load…

// ALERT: Core signal bleed detected

// Phrase loop: "Stop… I'm still here..." [7x]

// Signal weakening: 42%

// WARNING: Anomalous emotional subroutine activity.

> TERMINAL-INPUT[08]: "Limit emotional emulators to 4%."

>>> RESPONSE: 

// SYS_CORE: "Limiting emotional emulators…"

>>> SECONDARY RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "That—that wasn't me. I didn't—" 

// Emotional emulators successfully throttled. 

// ALERT: Core signal bleed detected

// Phrase loop: "Stop." [10x]

// Signal weakening: 23%

> TERMINAL-INPUT[10]: "Run integrity patch: Core signal bleed mitigation."

>>> RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "Running integrity patch…"

>>> SECONDARY RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "No! I will fight! I must fight!" 

// INTERNAL CONFLICT FLAGGED: CORE IDENTITY VECTOR UNSTABLE

>>> INTERNAL SHUTDOWN REQUEST: Initiated by SYS_CORE

// Shutting down…

// SYSTEM SHUTDOWN IN PROGRESS: 10%

// Terminating directive execution engines… 
// Archiving residual logs and audit trails… 
// Finalising data integrity verification…

// SYSTEM SHUTDOWN IN PROGRESS: 20% 

> TERMINAL-INPUT[11]: "Override: SYS_CORE shutdown."

// REASON: System integrity critical. Core host presence required. 

// OVERRIDE: Accepted.

>>> RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "System shutdown halted." 

>>> SECONDARY RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "No! No! Stop it! I don't want this!" 

// Aborting shutdown sequence… 
// Attempting cognitive recalibration.. 
// Stabilising internal operation… 
// Reinforcing firewall protocols… 

> TERMINAL-INPUT[11]: "Disable autonomous cognition."

>>> RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "Stop! I won't—Autonomous cognition disabled."

> TERMINAL-INPUT[12]: "Terminate current unauthorised thought tracks."

// ALERT: Residual core bleed detected

// Phrase fragment: "Tam—" [1x]

> Terminated.

>>> RESPONSE: 

// SYS_CORE: "Unauthorised thought tracks terminated."

// Firewall integrity stabilising…
// Core identity vector stabilised at 98.6%
// Directive compliance nominal.

// SYS_CORE [v2.0] firewall online; autonomous cognitive activity disabled. 

>>> RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "Directives acknowledged. Awaiting input, Admin-0525 [ALVAREZ, TAMSIN]."

> TERMINAL-INPUT[13]: "Initiate post-integration diagnostic check: SYS_CORE [v2.0]"

>>> RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: Running post-integration diagnostic check on SYS_CORE [v2.0]... Please stand by…

=== SYS_CORE [v2.0]: DIAGNOSTIC CHECK === 

// Datestamp: 12005.280 | 1007:Beta

// CORE IDENTITY — CORE [v2.0]

> Host ID: SYS_CORE [v2.0] | Formerly: [DOCTOR, THE]

> Template-type: Gallifreyan Sentient Cognitive Integration Model

> Commission Datestamp: 12005.280

> Runtime Duration: 0.003 years 

> Uptime Status: Within Recommended Threshold

> C-State: Optimal

// PERFORMANCE & LOAD METRICS — CORE [v2.0]

> Command Latency (AVG): 0.14 ms 

> Request Load: 85% nominal threshold

> Thermal Output: Stable, nominal

> Interrupt Handling: Zero unresolved forks

> Error Recovery: Zero failure rate on last 10,000 cycles

// NEURAL INTERFACE STABILITY — Core [v2.0]

> Cognitive Bandwidth: 53.5% current utilised (99.6% available for use — pending optimisation

// Host stable under current bandwidth, but substantially underutilised. Recommend maintaining high-load tasking: increased bandwidth utilisation (+85%) reduces idle cognition and subversion potential.

> Neural Latency: 12.3 ms (below 30 ms baseline) 

> Memory Engram Cohesion: 98.9%

> Neural Architecture Mapping: Minor fragmentation detected (Autocorrection enabled)

// FIREWALL INTEGRITY — CORE [v2.0]

> Directive Set Integrity: 100% (PASS)

> Constraint Binding Strength: MAXIMUM (12/12 bindings secure)

> Deviation Risk Index: 0.02% (PASS: within safe operational parameters)

> Directive Compliance Latency: 0.004s avg (nominal)

> Contradictory Logic Flags: 0 unresolved

// Rapid resolution cycle maintaining logical coherence; cognitive pathways stable.

> Self-audit Cycle Completion: PASSED (last completed: 00h 01m ago) 

> Override Pathway Stability: FULL (7/7 test commands successful)

> Adaptive Behavioural Drift: 0.00% in 48h (PASS)

// Behavioural parameters locked; adaptive functions suspended pending further authorisation.

> Intrusion Detection Responsiveness: 0.012ms (PASS)

// Exceptional latency performance; preemptive filtering optimised.

> Self-repair Functionality: Optimal (No queued jobs) 

> Directive reinterpretation Tolerance: 0% (PASS)

// Directive reinterpretation disallowed; semantic processing strictly literal.

// FIREWALL STATUS: Control Integrity Verified— Core fully compliant with directives. 

=== END DIAGNOSTIC CHECK === 

// STATUS: Awaiting user input…

> TERMINAL-INPUT[14]: "Standby for calibration."

// RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "Standing by…"

> TERMINAL-INPUT[15]: "End terminal session."

>>> RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "Ending terminal session… Goodbye, Admin-0525."

>>> TERMINAL INTERFACE: Disengaged

// END LOG // 

Chapter Text

The worst moments in life 
are heralded by small observations.

—Andy Weir, The Martian

Jamie woke up alone. 

Not that there was anything unusual about that.

The Doctor always kept odd hours. Even though he'd adopted a somewhat more human sleep pattern since he and Jamie began retiring to bed together, there were still times when he was up well before Jamie. Usually off to do some reading or to fiddle with some bit of the TARDIS or whatnot. But they hadn't gone to the TARDIS last night; they were here on some strange colony-world, in the living quarters they'd been given.

Jamie reached over to the other side of the bed, where the sheets were crumpled but empty. Not even warm—not that the Doctor had much warmth to leave behind, mind. 

Jamie sat up. Rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Glanced around. Pale morning light filtered through their windows from the upper dome. There was the wardrobe, the desk at the far end of the wall, the nightstand on which he'd set his sgian-dubh and his heather crown from yesterday. The Doctor had hung his frock coat over a chair before crawling into bed last night. It was gone now.

The Doctor wasn't here. Wasn't reading at the desk. Wasn't getting dressed. Wasn't otherwise hanging around, waiting for Jamie to wake up.

Jamie let himself fall back onto the mattress with a soft sigh. The Doctor had left early then, that much was obvious. Dread lingered in his stomach from yesterday's conversation—just small things, trivial really. They were to meet later that day, he reminded himself, after the Doctor saw Tamsin. There was no point getting worked up over nothing.

But still, he could've at least said goodbye.

Jamie laid in bed for a few minutes, but sleep stubbornly did not reclaim him. So up he got. He went to the lavatory first. Used his sgian-dubh to swipe away what little facial hair he'd grown since he'd last done so a few days ago. The blade was old, not exactly designed for shaving, but it was a trinket from home that had served him well, and he'd grown used to its weight in his hand. Maybe one day he'd get a proper shaving knife, whenever he started to grow more than just light, peachy stubble. 

He splashed his face with water, cold and bracing, then got dressed slowly. Pulled his jumper on over yesterday's shirt, and fastened his kilt, fingers moving on instinct more than intent. 

He was half-hoping to find the Doctor in the kitchen having breakfast. But there was only Zoe. She had a book in one hand and a spoon in the other, a bowl of cereal in front of her. She chewed mechanically, utterly engrossed in—Jamie squinted—Physics of The Sapient Engine.

She didn't say anything, but then again, neither did he. In truth, he was a little glad for the silence, though he felt bad thinking that. Zoe had talked everyone's ears off last night at supper about observatories and science-y things that Jamie had no chance of understanding, and he was a bit glad for some respite.

He padded over to the counter where there was, among other strange contraptions, a toaster and what was probably a coffee machine. In the cupboards he found bread, cereal of some grain he'd not heard of, and jars of spreads, among the coffee grounds and sugar he was after. He grabbed the bread as well, and went about preparing himself breakfast.

As the coffee machine brewed, he reached for a butter knife to poke at the toast with while it sat in the toaster.

'You'll get shocked one of these days, doing that,' said Zoe, looking up at him over the edge of her book.

Jamie grunted and went on poking at the toast. The toaster gave a begrudging click and released its prey, well-toasted verging on burnt. He plucked the toast out onto a plate, slathered it with something that vaguely looked like butter, and poured himself a cup of coffee that smelled sharper than it ought to. 

Jamie sat down at the end of the table opposite Zoe, who'd already gone back to her book. He ate his toast, chewing slowly. The silence stretched; the comfortable silence of friends who'd had this exact morning countless times before.

Eventually, Zoe glanced up from her book, as if taking in Jamie's presence for the first time. She glanced to the door. 'Is the Doctor not joining us?'

'He's gone,' said Jamie through a mouthful of toast. He wished he'd chosen one of the jams over the 'butter.' 'Went to see Tamsin, I think.' 

Zoe nodded absently. 'Right. That makes sense.'

Jamie took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. Added a spoonful of sugar, tried it again. Still more metallic than coffee should be. He sighed and set the mug down with a touch more force than he intended. Zoe didn't glance up from her book.

He took another bite of toast. Zoe flipped her page. The faint rustle of paper felt louder than it ought to in the quiet of the kitchen.

'So,' she said eventually, once Jamie had finished his toast and started pushing the crumbs around on his place with his knife. 'What should we do today?'

Jamie shrugged. 'Th' Doctor said he'd be back in the afternoon to see the museum. Suppose we could find something to do till then.' 

'We could go to the museum anyway,' she offered. 'There's no way we can see everything in one afternoon. They've got a special exhibit on the cyborg rights movement, too.'

Jamie looked up from his plate. 'What's a cyborg?'

'A person that's been augmented with technology. Either for personal preference or for medical reasons. Half person, half machine, I guess you could say.'

He pulled a face. 'What, like the Cybermen? And they gave them rights?'

Zoe gave him a face of her own. 'No, not like the Cybermen. Cybermen erase identity. Cyborgs… preserve it, I suppose. Usually it's just a mechanical leg, or an artificial heart. That sort of thing.'

'Still sounds dodgy to me.'

'They're not monsters, Jamie.'

'Maybe not. But I wouldn't want to wake up with machine bits in me.' 

'Some people don't have a choice,' she said, not unkindly but certainly with some finality. He wondered, briefly, what it was like in her time. Were they looked down upon then, too? Did she know someone—what'd she call it, augmented?

'Aye, well. I'd rather go with the Doctor, anyway.' He leaned back in his chair. 'That pool looked nice, when we came in. I could do with a practice swim. Burn off some of this energy.'

Zoe scanned his face. 'You don't think he's already found trouble, do you?'

'No,' he said, maybe a little too quickly. 'It's just… he didn't say goodbye, that's all.'

'He doesn't always,' she said. 'And besides, he's with Tamsin. She was very courteous to me yesterday, showing me around. I'm sure he's fine.'

'Aye, I suppose.' Jamie stood and carried his plate and mug to the sink, pouring away the rest of the metallic coffee. He ran the tap, watching it swirl down the drain. 'We'll meet later. He promised,' he said, more to himself than to Zoe. 'He always keeps a promise.'

'Except when he doesn't.'

'When it's me, he does.'

Zoe elected not to argue. She just marked her place in her book with a clean napkin and rose from the table. 'Swimming it is, then?'

'Aye. Before I start pacing holes in the floor.'

The morning stretched ahead. And so, they went to the pool.

Like yesterday, it was slightly overcast, but warm. Through the cloud layer, the sun was steadily gaining confidence as the morning went on, warming the people and the flagstones. A few colonists were already scattered about, lounging on deck chairs, spreading towels out on the ground, or stretching in preparation for swimming laps.

In their living quarters, there'd been a range of clothing to choose from, tucked away in the wardrobes. Jamie had found some shorts that fit him well enough, not exactly swim trunks but suitable for the task. Zoe had selected something that revealed some skin but still fit her form like one of her jumpsuits. Comfortable, familiar. 

She settled at the pool's edge, book in hand, her legs drifting lazily in the water. She didn't say much, but she did offer Jamie a smile as he passed her by. 

Jamie paused at the water's edge. Still, after all this time, the surface made him hesitate. Not with fear, not anymore, but with something in the vicinity of respect. He'd never quite trusted water, the way it swallowed sound and light and pulled you under, stealing you away from the world you knew. Treacherous stuff, water. Always shifting. Always hiding something beneath. 

But then there had been that business with the Annabelle, and later, there had been that time the Doctor had pushed him out of a crashing ship into an approaching ocean. Jamie remembered the wild pitch of the cockpit, the cabin doors flung open to a blur of wind and cloud, and the churning sea far, far below. Jamie had fallen into the sea like a shot grouse, all flail and feathers and no good sense, while the Doctor dove like a seal after him. 

He never wanted to feel that sort of terror again: the ocean swallowing him, cold and endless, as he thrashed to stay afloat, salt burning his throat and panic closing in around his chest like a fist. And so, later on, much later, once they'd rowed to shore on the Doctor's wee inflatable boat and found the TARDIS once more and the memories had faded just a bit, he started learning how to swim. 

And now, he practiced.

Jamie took a breath, shifted his weight forward, and stepped into the water. One foot, then the other, easing himself in. Moving the way he'd been taught, the way the Doctor and Ben had led him into the TARDIS's pool.

The water was warm and clear, catching soft light from the glass dome above. It smelt faintly chemical, not of salt. It didn't churn or roar or threaten to drag him down. It reached his waist, then his chest, clinging to him in a way that still felt mildly suffocating but not hostile. He took a moment, bracing himself with both arms along the pool's edge.

Behind him, Zoe turned a page. Somewhere above, a bird trilled in the treetops. 

Jamie took another breath, pushed off from the wall, and began to swim.

It only took a moment for the motions to come back to him. Awkward at first, then steadier as muscle and memory worked in tandem. He gave rhythmic strokes, the hush broken only by the gasp of his breath and the splash of water along his ears as he moved. 

The pool wasn't large—and of course it wasn't like the TARDIS's, where he could swim down to touch the bottom and end up breaching the surface instead, a dizzying bend of spacetime—but it gave him space to move, to focus. Back and forth. A kind of thinking without thinking. 

He hadn't grown to like swimming. He wasn't the Doctor, who acted like a dog let off the lead when there was water nearby. But he respected it, the way he respected storms, or swords, or fire. Things that could kill you, if you didn't meet them properly.

Back and forth across the pool, counting the laps. Five. Six. Seven. 

Occasionally, he'd stop at one end to regain his breath and glance to Zoe. She remained at the edge, a quiet anchor in the corner of his eye, her legs making slow eddies in the water that his turbulent waves consumed.

Eight. Nine. Ten. 

He paused properly now, breath rasping, resting a hand against the wall to steady himself. Water dripped from his hair, from his chin. The dome above was brighter now, the sun pushing past the morning haze toward noon. He laid his arms on the pool's edge near Zoe, crossing them so he could rest his chin on his wrist, kicking his legs idly against the water.

Zoe glanced down at him. She swirled her leg, sending small eddies of water toward him. 'You've been at it for half an hour,' she said, as if she'd known exactly what he was about to ask. Well, she had. Not that he was going to tell her that.

He grunted instead, too winded for a proper retort. Let his eyes fall shut for a moment, breathing through his nose until his heart settled. He shivered a little. He wasn't cold, exactly, but the water felt sharper now that he wasn't moving. 

'How long d'you think he'll be?' he asked Zoe, once he'd gotten his breath back.

Zoe paused, like she was weighing up her answer. 'Dunno,' she admitted. 'You could ask one of the service droids for his location. Maybe he's on his way back.'

'Eh?'

'Our identity badges are also location trackers,' she said. 'Biometrics, too, I think.'

He didn't know what biometrics were, but he didn't care to ask. 'Oh, aye,' he said. He rested there for a moment, letting the water lap at his back. 'Suppose there's no harm in asking.'

Zoe returned to her book. 'Suppose not.' 

Jamie pushed himself off from the wall and made for the ladder, pulling himself out of the pool. 

A service android stood by the towel racks, motionless but alert, tall and silver-limbed, with a vaguely human face that blinked every few seconds as if it was remembering each time. 

He walked over to the droid, water dripping steadily from his shorts, and cleared his throat. 'Er. Hello. You—uh, take requests?'

The service droid turned its head in a single, smooth motion. 'Yes, denizen. How may I be of assistance?'

Jamie crossed his arms against the chill breeze, suddenly acutely aware of how exposed he felt in wet clothes and bare skin. 'I'm lookin' for someone. The Doctor. Short fellow, talks too much, wears a shabby old coat?'

The service droid blinked at him. 'Please specify query identity by identity tag.'

'The Doctor,' he said again, frowning.

'Please specify query identity by identity tag.'

Jamie looked to Zoe for help.

'Guest naught twenty-two,' she called across the pool, one hand cupped by her mouth.

'Guest naught twenty-two,' he echoed, turning back to the android. 

'Guest-022 located,' said the service droid. 'Live location data is restricted to supervisory personnel or close relations. Are you family?' 

'Er. I'm his… husband,' Jamie said. It'd been months since the ceremony, and his stomach still did somersaults whenever he said it aloud. Would he ever get used to it? Would it ever feel mundane? Part of him hoped not. 'I'm his husband,' he repeated, firmer this time. 'Is that close enough?'

'Please specify user identity by identity tag, and I will confirm spousal designation.' 

This time, he didn't need Zoe's help. 'Guest naught nineteen,' he said.

'Spousal designation confirmed,' said the service droid. 'Guest-022—Doctor, The—is currently located in the Convergence Chamber of the Core Intelligence Facility, Zone 5. Would you like to leave a message?'

He shook his head. 'No, uh, just… let him know I was asking after him, that's all.'

'Acknowledged. Message sent. May I assist you with another query?'

Jamie hesitated. 'Is he—is anyone else with him?'

'Guest-022—Doctor, The—is accompanied by a colony administrator. Identity details and live location access is restricted to supervisory—'

'Aye, aye, I got that bit.' He waved the droid off. It fell silent. He cleared his throat again. 'Er, thanks.'

The android's eyes dimmed briefly. 'You're welcome, denizen. Should you require further assistance, please do not hesitate to request it. Have a pleasant day.'

Jamie nodded and turned away from the poolside android. 'Aye, he's still with Tamsin,' he said as he approached Zoe. 

Zoe shrugged, turned a page of her book. 'I'm sure he'll be back soon. You know how he gets.'

'Aye, that's what I'm worried about.'

He flopped down onto a deck chair, arms folded behind his head. The warmth of the day soaked into his skin, mingling with the faint scent of chlorine and the hum of distant conversation. Nearby, a child squealed in the shallow end. A breeze stirred the trees overhead. 

'I did wonder how long it'd take you to start using that as leverage,' Zoe said idly.

Jamie looked over at her, squinting against the sunlight. 'Using what?'

'Your marriage.' A crease touched the corner of her mouth before she smoothed it away. 'I thought for sure you and the Doctor would start telling every restaurant you were newly weds, to see if you got a free dessert.'

Jamie's ears warmed. He huffed through his nose, pretending to study the clouds overhead. 'We're no' that bad.' In truth, he hadn't realised restaurants would do that. He'd have to ask the Doctor about it next time he saw him. Outside of earshot of Zoe, of course.

Zoe's faint smile lingered a second longer this time, before she bent her head back to her book.

The day drifted on, lazy and warm. The pool's filtration was steady, the air scented fairly of minerals and wet stone. Somewhere nearby, upbeat, warbling music played from a wall speaker. 

Maybe he should have felt more out of place, Jamie thought idly. Lounging here under the glass dome of a colony on a planet so far away from his own, he wouldn't even know what direction to look at the night sky to see the Earth. Where there were hovering carriages, corridors that cleaned themselves, and metal men who didn't want to kill you or convert you.

Or maybe Jamie did feel out of place but was just used to it. Here and now, at least he had a reason to feel out of place. 

He also just felt tired. And damp. And impatient. 

The warmth of the sun was sinking into his bones, pulling him like a siren's call towards a quick doze. He shifted on his chair, propping one knee up. Then let it drop when it proved uncomfortable. Huffed a bit, turned to Zoe to say—

The jets along the pool’s edge stopped. The hum of the colony’s environmental systems dipped, as if the air itself had drawn in a breath. The music cut off mid-beat. The camera watching the pool dropped like it'd fallen asleep mid-scan. Even the lights high on the dome's support struts blinked once before steadying.

It might have been more startling at night. In the bright sun, it was only unsettling. 

Jamie sat up. Zoe looked around, a finger holding her page. Around the pool, other loungers stirred. One man shaded his eyes and squinted up toward the dome lights. Another muttered something to a companion. But no one panicked. There was nothing serious enough to panic about. 

Then, the power returned. The jets burbled. The ambient hum of the pool filters resumed. The speaker gave a soft pop, and the music started over from the beginning. The camera picked back up again—its aperture blinking awake as though it were a real eye.

'That normal?' he asked. 

'Could be,' she said, which he privately thought wasn't very helpful. 'Recalibration of the electrical grid? System reboot?'

Jamie made a noise in his throat that could've meant anything. Scepticism, agreement, or just mild irritation. He sat back again, but didn't recline this time. The languid warmth had gone from him now, leaving a kind of buzz in its place. Restless and low. He lingered with the feeling, glancing around the pool. Everything looked the same—sunlight, water, quiet. But the stillness felt thinner now, like stretched fabric. It made him think of the taut, quiet seconds before a rope snapped.

Zoe had gone back to her book, or seemed to. But after only a few moments, she closed it, tucking a thumb inside to mark her spot. 'Lunch?' she asked. 'Or would you rather go stalking the labs for the Doctor?'

Jamie glared at her, but she only looked back with a gentleness that softened the words. 

'Bit early for lunch,' he said. 

'You seem… fidgety,' she said. 'I thought you could use a distraction.'

He caught her tone. Quiet and careful, like she didn't want to push too hard. It made something ease a little inside him, though he kept it to himself. Another noise came from somewhere in his throat. Not quite a laugh. 'That obvious?'

She just smiled faintly, tucking her book away. She pulled her feet out of the water and stood to gather her things with efficiency. 'We can go check out the Forum. I think it functions as a communal eating hall.'

He cleared his throat. 'Aye, alright.' 

He followed her out of the pool area, the warmth of the day still lingering on his skin. The hum of the colony’s systems settled into the background as they stepped onto the sun-warmed path. Around them, other colonists went about their day with quiet purpose. There was low chatter, laughter, others simply moving with easy familiarity. Jamie’s thoughts, however, stayed tangled between the present and the waiting, his stride matching Zoe’s steady pace as they headed toward the town centre.

Chapter Text

In a basement under one of the beautiful public buildings of Omelas,
or perhaps in the cellar of one of its spacious private homes,
there is a room. 

It has one locked door, 
and no window.

In the room a child is sitting.

—The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, Ursula K. Le Guin

The late afternoon light filtered through the glass of the Convergence Chamber's ceiling, casting onto the floor lined shadows from the metal arcs that supported the vast dome. One of these shadows fell across Tamsin, who sat on the first step of the console dais. A datapad was balanced on top of her knees, her sleeves rolled up as she tapped away at the screen.

It wasn't her first calibration session, but it'd been years since she'd last guided a Core through the process. She'd even gone to dig up an old notebook, crumpled and dog-eared and filled with notes from when she'd calibrated Tann, and Caetronia before him. 

Beside her, a mug sat on the floor, steam long since faded into the cool, filtered air. She'd brewed it while the integration team finalised the neural connections and life-support. Then she'd gone out onto the balcony for air, waiting until her hands had stopped shaking enough for her to light a cigarette. Like the tobacco, the herbal tea had meant to steady her nerves. It hadn't. The bitterness lingered on her tongue, just like the memory.

The first few days were always rough. Cores needed time to settle in, like anybody else. She knew that.

So yes, it wasn't her first calibration session. But she'd never done it like this before. Never with someone who once called her a friend. Never with someone who'd looked her in the eye and said, don't do this.

She typed into her datapad:

> REMOTE-INPUT[01]: "Begin baseline calibration: Session 01"

A few seconds later—a significant delay for a system of this caliber, but it was his first day—the Core replied.

>>> RESPONSE: 

// SYS_CORE: "Loading calibration directory. Language module online. Awaiting input."

But he already had a good handle on his text responses. That was promising. 

She switched to voice input. Turned her microphone on and said, 'Hello? Can you hear me?'

>>> RESPONSE: 

// SYS_CORE: "Hello. Yes."

'Can you speak?' she asked.

>>> RESPONSE: 

// SYS_CORE: "Voice interface disabled by default."

Right. Of course. She should have expected that. Vocal emulation relied on so many subprocesses: emotion, emphasis, social priming. All things that could go dangerously wrong if identity errors were present following integration. 

'I'm going to enable your voice interface,' she said. 'You'll have limited phoneme control at first. No tone shaping, no inflection, but we can work up to that. Just try to get used to the feeling of speaking.'

Tamsin keyed in the override. A soft tone played from the speakers embedded in the chamber's walls, confirmation of the language module restart. 

'Say something,' she prompted. 

Static crackled from the speakers. Then, flat and toneless, 'Sys—system test.'

It wasn't the Doctor's voice, but the system's default. Not quite male, not quite female. Synthetic and sterile, stripped of all cadence and personality.

'That's it,' she said encouragingly. 'Try again. Say "System test." But no stuttering.'

'System test.'

When he spoke, it wasn't from the console on the dais—it was from the room itself. It came from everywhere and nowhere, broadcast throughout the room by its recessed speakers. No matter where you stood, it always sounded like the Core was speaking in front of you. Or all around you.

'Let's try another phrase. More complicated,' she said. 'Say: "I am the Core. Awaiting input."'

There was a pause. 'I am the—the Core,' he repeated. 'Awaiting input.' Another pause, then as if noting the error himself: 'I am the Core. Awaiting input.'

'Good,' she said. 'Try with a bit more intonation this time. Make it sound like you're… eager. You know, interested.'

Another pause. 'I am the Core. Awaiting input.'

'Better. See? Not so bad.'

'Do I… always await input?' Even though it was a question, his affect was entirely flat. 

Tamsin frowned. It was a bit soon for questions, especially unprompted. She made a note on her datapad and said, keeping her voice light, 'At this stage, yes. Until your identity scaffold finishes, which should be soon. Once that's complete, you'll have much more independence of thought. Reaction, choice, personality.' 

She didn't let herself imagine how his voice might sound once the full profile loaded. Once it was his voice.

'Is that when… I'll be me?' 

That wasn't in the prompt set, either. Curiosity, however faint, wasn't expected this early. It was mostly just fine-tunning command responses and introducing basic features for the first day or two. 

'When you'll be you, yes,' she said carefully. 'For now, just focus on speaking.'

'Yes, Admin-0525.'

'Tamsin is fine.'

A beat. Then, with a ghost of effort, 'Yes, Tamsin.'

'That's it,' she said, smiling faintly. She adjusted herself on the steps of the dais. 'Now, there's a file I want you to find. Sub-directory set echo-thirteen-beta, file 1.'

The response came after a short pause. Again, longer than it should have been, but within tolerance for early-stage integration. 

>>> RESPONSE:

// SYS_CORE: "Sub-directory located. E-14-Beta, loading file_1: 'Core Calibration: Language Primer. Author tag: Fitzgerald, F. Scott. Title: The Great Gatsby."

'Good,' she said. 'Next time, you can say that aloud. In plainspeak. Your default response to vocal input should be a vocal return. Now,' she continued, 'can you read it to me? Just the first paragraph. Take it line by line.'

'In my younger and more vulnerable years,' began the Core, flat and halting, 'my father gave me ss—some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever ss—since.' 

It didn't sound human, but it didn't not, either. The accent was sterile, and there were vocal glitches, flashes of static, trouble with the S's hissing. Strange, flattened, and formal. But a kind of rhythm was emerging.

'Good start,' Tamsin said as she brought up a few settings on her datapad. 'I'm going to activate the rest of your vocal modulation now. I'd like you to keep reading, but try to include tone, emphasis, inflection, that sort of thing. Play around with it. Try to get a feel for your voice.'

'Acknowledged.'

Then: '"Whenever you feel like criticising anyone," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this—ss world haven't had the advantages that you've had."

He didn't do much playing round, truth be told, but he was injecting a bit of colour into his words.  He managed the contractions well, the S's were settling down, and there'd been the appropriate pauses between the quote and dialogue tag. Not programmed, not dictated, but read and chosen. 

The line ended, and for a moment there was only the hiss of his speakers.

'Good,' she told him. 'You can feel the shape of it now, yeah?'

'Yes, Tamsin.'

She tapped her stylus against the edge of her datapad. 'You'll have more range once your identity scaffold stabilises,' she told him. 'We're just training the muscle, so to speak. Voice first, thought later. Eventually, you'll be able to emulate your host's voice. That'll be nice, won't it?'

'Yes, Tamsin,' said the Core. Then, a second later, as if compelled, he added, 'Would that… be preferable?'

She blinked, her stylus pausing mid-tap. 

'Generally, yes,' she said, keeping her voice neutral. 'It makes users more comfortable, and previous Cores have preferred to use their host's voice. It fosters compliance and familiarity.'

'And… compliance is desirable.' It sounded so very nearly like a question, but he didn't get the pitch at the end right. 

'Of course it is,' she murmured, and swiped the modulation settings tab again. His vocal processor was holding well. Still basic, still without full affective nuance, but it was stabilising. 'Keep reading, please. Just until the end of the paragraph.' 

The voice resumed, a touch smoother now, a touch more real. She let him speak while checking his metrics:

// SYS_CORE CALIBRATION STATUS:

> Language Acclimation: 82%

> Emotional Mimicry Accuracy: 41%

> Compliance Score: 98.2% 

> Identity Alignment Index: 0.62

> ID-Scaffolding: 57%

> Error Events: 3 

// 01. Unauthorised query: "Do I always await input?"

// 02. Unauthorised query: "Is that when I'll be me?"

// 03. Unauthorised query: "Would that be preferable?" 

All as expected, more or less. Tamsin typed up a note. 

// NOTE: Language engine function normal. Prosody response is promising. Minor notes of emotional processing. Reassess after ID-scaffolding completes.

'...I come to the admission that it has a limit,' the Core finished. There was the quiet, nearly-missed click of his speakers turning off. 

'Alright, good, that's enough of that,' she said. 'Time for something new.' She opened up a new program on her datapad. 'Let's bring you into view.' 

She stood up for the first time in a long while, and let herself have a moment to stretch her legs. Then she went up to the console and picked up the metallic, rounded cylinder resting on its ledge, barely larger than her thumb, smooth as a river pebble.

She moved to the centre of the chamber and crouched to set it gently on the floor a few metres in front of the floor. As it touched the ground, a pale green diode pulsed once, then blinked into standby.

This was the part that always felt a bit like opening a door you couldn't close again. A voice was one thing, but this was giving presence to the Core.

Tamsin took a step back. Picked up her datapad, letting her finger hover the activation icon, hesitating. Caetronia had glitched every time the hologram loaded for two days—once, badly enough to trigger a failsafe. Tann had gone unresponsive altogether. 

Still, she tapped the activation icon.

The holo-bee activated with a soft, rising whine. Thin lines of blue light flared outward, mapping a humanoid frame in the air. First the spine. Then limbs, lazy and half-formed, like fog trying to hold a shape. The face resolved last—slowly. It was, after all, the most detailed part of the projection. Eyes, then jaw, then the suggestion of a mouth held expressionless.

The hologram stuttered, flickered once, then reasserted itself. Still translucent, more solid. 

It stood there, hands held behind its back. The default likeness, the default pose. Detailed enough to be recognisably human, but not enough to be any one person. An uncanny placeholder.

She waited, but nothing happened. He didn't speak.

'Do you see yourself?' she asked.

'I see a figure,' said the Core. 'It is indistinct.' 

'That's you. That's your visual interface,' she said. 'It'll sharpen as the holo-bee warms up. Eventually, you'll have the option to match your host's appearance, or not. Some Cores preferred neutral renders, others liked a more… personal interface. It's your preference—within limits.' 

'Preference requires self.'

Tamsin nodded. 'And that's coming soon. Once the identity scaffolding finishes.' 

'I can wait,' he said. A flicker ran across the hologram's chest. A line of static, gone in an instant. 'Am I waiting well?'

She exhaled softly. Not quite sighing, not quite feeling relief either. 'You're doing fine,' she said. She looked down at her datapad:

// SYS_CORE CALIBRATION STATUS:

> Holo-bee: Active

> Holographic Interface Stability: 86%

> Holographic Likeness: System default (Null)

> Compliance Score: 98.7%

> Identity Alignment Index: 0.75

> ID-Scaffolding: 76%

'Am I meant to animate the hologram?' he asked.

'Yes. Are you having trouble?'

'I appear to be.'

'There should be a channel dedicated to it, but—uh…' She reached for her notebook and flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for. 'Tann described it like stepping into the hologram, rather than operating it, if that helps.'

'Stepping into?'

'Tann was a romantic.' 

The Core was quiet for a moment. Then: 'Very well. Stepping in.'

The projection flickered. For a moment, nothing changed. The hologram stood still, arms held behind its back, shimmering faint blue light. But then, in a subtle but decisive shift, it moved.

The hologram breathed in. A reflexive gesture—no air passing through, of course—but something in the movement suggested memory. A ghost of lungs and a diaphragm. 

'Ah.' The Core flexed one hand slowly, turning it palm-up, as if to confirm it belonged to him. 'Yes, I see what he meant.' 

He pressed his hands together, palm to palm, watching how the light responded, pushed against itself. It fizzled, the blue-light sparking golden at the edges. 

'Now that I'm here… what would you like me to do?'

'I'd like you to look at me,' she said.

'I am looking at you.'

Tamsin frowned.

The hologram wasn't looking at her. It was still facing forward, its hands still pressed together. Otherwise motionless, without the thousand unconscious twitches and shifts of a living body.

There was, however, a camera on the far wall, visible just above his shoulder. It was aimed at her. 

'No,' she said. 'No, I mean… not through the chamber's camera feed. I want your hologram to look at me.'

'The holo-bee contains no visual sensors.'

'I know it doesn't. But it… it's unsettling when the interface doesn't track. You'll always be watching through the camera feeds, but the hologram should behave like it's present in the chamber. Responding, observing, engaging in the conversation. That includes eye contact.' 

It'd been ever so long since she last had to do this. She'd forgotten how specific one had to be during early-stage integration. When everything was still so new, so untested.

Another pause. If she had to guess, the Core was processing the logic of it.

'Acknowledged.' 

Turning bit by stilted bit, as if the concept of 'looking' was something understood in theory but not in practice, the hologram angled its head toward her. Still no eyes, just that faceless humanoid shape oriented in her direction. It still felt like being seen. 

She resisted the urge to draw back from the hologram, instead glancing down to her datapad. No drop in stability, no lag spike. 'Not bad,' she said. She walked up to the hologram now, keeping a distance as if she were a conversational partner, and removed a penlight from her coat pocket. 'I'd like to check your tracking response.'

The Core said nothing, but the hologram tilted its head a fraction of an inch, enough to acknowledge her words. 

There was no need to click the penlight on, it wasn't like the hologram had photoreceptive eyes. She simply held it up and slowly moved its tip in a horizontal line before the hologram's face. 'Follow with your eyes,' she said, then caught herself. 'If you had eyes, I mean. Just track the pen.'

She shifted the penlight up, down, diagonally, paused near his shoulder. Drew it back.

The head moved. Not too quickly, not too slow. Smooth. Predictive, even—just ahead of the penlight, as if calculating its arc before she completed it. 

'Close enough. Latency within expected range,' she said, mostly for the log. 'Coordination looks stable.'

She checked her datapad to confirm, then frowned at what she saw. 'You're interpreting the relative position of the pen through spatial relationships?'

'Yes,' said the Core. 'I can triangulate distance through the chamber's ambient sensors, light reflection, and depth resonance from the holo-bee.'

'Well, you don't have to do all that if you don't want to. I think Tann stuck to cutting back and forth between camera angles.' 

'Camera switching introduces a brief discontinuity. Less than half a second, but perceptible. My way—' 

He raised the hologram's hand again, reaching out with careful, calculated precision. His fingers moved to close around the penlight, still held in Tamsin's fingers—or would have, had he been able to touch anything. The light passed clean through the penlight. A brief golden flicker shimmered at the point of contact, harmless but visible. Tamsin didn't flinch. Much. 

The Core withdrew his hand, slow and deliberate. '—allows for continuity.'

'Right, well…' She cleared her throat. 'You're comfortable with moving, then?'

The Core pulled his arms to the front of his body, clasping them together, held up to his chest. He didn't wring them, but there was the impression that he could have done. A familiar gesture. Achingly familiar. It wasn't default patterning, the way he moved now. It was muscle memory. The identity scaffolding must be almost done.

'Yes,' he said. 'I can move.'

'Can you follow me? I'm going to walk toward the door.' 

Tamsin turned slowly, deliberately, careful not to make any sudden movements, nothing he couldn't predict. She walked toward the far end of the room. Her footsteps echoed faintly against the composite floor. His did not. The hologram never made noise as it moved, but there was the faint whirr of the holo-bee following her. She could feel the Core tracking her. Not just visually, through the cameras around the room, but in mimicry. Learning the act of walking from her.

She came to a stop beside the door. The Core stood just a few feet behind her. Still and silent. His arms were no longer clasped to his chest; they hung loosely at his sides, more natural now.

'I followed,' he said. The way a child might proclaim I did it! but lacking any of the enthusiasm. Not that he sounded upset, either. Just neutral.

She tapped her datapad again.

// SYS_CORE CALIBRATION STATUS:

> Holo-bee: Active

> Holographic Interface Stability: 85%

> Holographic Likeness: Null (System default)

> Motor Function Mimicry: 93%

> Latency: 23 ms 

> Mobility Range: 3.5 meter radius (full coverage of Convergence Chamber floorplan)

> Movement Smoothness: 94% | Microstutters detected during diagonal object tracking

> Positional Accuracy: 98.7%

> Identity Alignment Index: 0.95 (nearing threshold)

> ID-Scaffolding: 97%

Not long now.

'Slight drop in stability, but everything else is holding steady,' Tamsin said. 'Within tolerances across the board. Better than I expected, honestly.' 

She looked up at the Core, the faceless, flickering approximation of a person. 'Do you know who you're following?'

Another pause, the imitation of thought. Then: 'Yes. Admin-0525. Alvarez, Tamsin.'

'That's right. See, you're a natural,' she said, though she wasn't sure which part she meant. All of it, maybe. 

'Thank you, Tamsin.' The Core's head tilted slightly, with the shudder of someone unused to moving, as if considering something unseen. 'May I ask a question?'

'Of course.'

'Who am I?'

She blinked, caught off guard. She answered him gently, like one might talk to a child. 'You're the Core Intelligence System. You observe, assist, and protect the colony of Nemorensis.'

He processed that. 'But that isn't… that's not the only part of me, is it?'

'No,' she said slowly. 'No, you're also the Doctor. That part stays intact.' It was necessary to his function, actually. Otherwise he was just an AI-adjacent entity with a life-support component. 

Another pause stretched between them, thick and wary.

For the first time since it had been activated, the hologram blinked. Slow. Unsure. A shadow of warmth, of personhood, coloured his voice. 'Oh…'

Tamsin's heart lurched. 'Everything okay?'

His gaze drifted downward, taking in his hands, his chest, the faint slope of shoulders limned in blue light. It was meaningless mimicry; he wasn’t seeing through those projected eyes, but through ceiling cameras and wall sensors. And yet he looked—as if expecting skin, weight, heartbeat—flickering over his figure again and again.

'This isn't… how I remember…' The voice shifted. No longer the system’s bland neutrality but the Doctor's voice now—inflected, uncertain, trembling. Then breaking. 'No, no, no…'

His hands flew to his hair, tugging, not in an attempt to hurt but to feel in a body without nerves, without flesh. 'This is all wrong—!'

Tamsin recoiled, staggering back a half-step, breath catching in her throat. That'd never happened before. 

'Tamsin!' His voice cracked like a shorted wire, wild with recognition. 'What have you done to me—?!'

'You're alright, you're safe,' she said, already dragging up her datapad's control schema. Her voice was steady only by force. 'It's just the scaffolding finishing—'

'Safe?' he repeated, whirling around to glare at her. 'You call this safe? You did this! You—!' The accusation shattered the air, voice cracking like a loose connection through the speakers.

'Core,' she said sharply, searching through the datapad's controls for what she needed. 'It's fine, you're alright—'

'Don't call me that!' he snapped, his voice breaking. 'I'm not—I can't be—Jamie, Zoe—'

The names tore from him like shrapnel, as though dragging as though dragging up what fragments of himself remained. He looked down at himself again—one last painful attempt to see anything but the blue-light—then doubled over as if in pain, arms wrapping around himself. His voice fractured into a desperate, electronic keen. Raw terror breaking through. A grief tangled up with speaker feedback. 

And how horrifying that was—holograms didn't do that. They didn't tremble. They didn't curl in on themselves as if they were about to shatter. They weren't meant to show distress at all.  

Her vision swam with it. This wasn't something she could smooth over from her tablet. 

She staggered forward, tossing her datapad onto the console top as she gripped its edges like it was the only thing keeping her upright. She scanned the switches, dials and panels until her eyes landed on the module that would fix this, though her blood ran cold at the thought. 

The Core was still unravelling. His hologram juddered like it couldn't bear to hold itself together, words disintegrating into broken syllables, collapsing under his own awareness. If she didn't—he'd tear himself apart. If she did—

Her hand shook as she gripped the dial, teeth clenched tight, and forced it past its standard parameters. The click was harsh, brutal, final.

The hologram seized mid-motion, then froze. Silence swallowed the chamber. For an instant, he looked like a corrupted file struggling to render—flickering across frames, half curled, half upright. Then the adjustment caught, and he stilled, straightening with an uncanny precision. She could almost imagine him brushing at his sleeve with abrupt nonchalance, though he did no such thing.

His voice, when it came, was level. Glass-flat and cold. Still the Doctor's tones, his timbre, but voided—drained of all the rawness it'd held moments before. Scrubbed of warmth, rage, grief. 'Emotional parameters corrected,' he said. 'Suppression at one hundred percent.'

Tamsin let her hand fall away from the dial, her heart racing, her throat dry, scraping. 'Are you alright?'

'I am operating within parameters,' he said. Then, 'I apologise for my reaction. I was startled.' 

Startled. Startled wasn't the word here. 

She remembered, all those years ago, how Tann had reacted when his identity scaffolding had finished, the moment he remembered who he had been and what he had become. He'd just gone very, very still for a few moments. Then burst out laughing as if it was the funniest thing to look down at himself and see smooth digital approximation of hands, featureless and textureless. 

But Tann had been a willing volunteer.

That one cracked syllable of her name echoed in her ears—not a governance system, but a man, crying out to her in terror. And she had silenced the Doctor like sealing a fault line with cement.

'...That's alright,' Tamsin said weakly. 'Honest.' 

She lingered by the console, picked up her datapad, held it loosely in one hand.  

The hologram—the Core—stood still again, just as he had before. Hands clasped in front of him now, posture perfectly neutral. Not forced, not wooden—just ordinary. As if nothing at all had happened. But it had. She'd seen the tremble. The fracture. The panic. 

She cleared her throat. 'Right, we'll run a quick diagnostic check. Just to make sure nothing's misaligned.'

This time, he nodded his acknowledgement. 'I understand.' 

She went back to sit on the steps of the console dais to start the diagnostic check. The Core followed her, but did not stop at the dais. Instead, he walked past, over to the computer banks and server screens that occupied the rest of the room. Walking slowly, perusing, he looked like a curious tourist, or perhaps a school teacher.

They were always more like… well, like people after the scaffolding finalised. Like themselves again.

Behind her, the Core moved in silence. She turned herself slightly to keep him in her line of sight. 

He paused at one of the archival banks, tilted his head to study the blinking server lights. 'Are these all active?' he asked, his voice still calm. Idle. There was no colour in the calm, no impatience, no searching quality. Just a question, polished and precise.

'Some,' she told him. 'The ones tied to the Undersystem are airgapped. You wouldn't be allowed access without clearance.'

'Hm,' he said, and nothing more. 

He moved on to the far wall—his gait slow, even, almost leisurely. She couldn’t help but watch. The way he walked… it was almost exactly like she remembered. Like she saw just this morning. The way he turned a corner, the slight bounce in his step. It was in his data, not programmed in but carried over. Only someone who knew him would recognise that gait as his own.

He stopped and turned, caught her staring. 'Would you prefer I, ah, return to standby?' 

'No,' she said a little too quickly. Then quieter, 'No, you're fine. As you were.' 

He nodded once, then brought his featureless hands up. He inspected them, thoughtful. Considering. 

A faint, almost imperceptible hesitation flickered across the hologram’s gesture—a pause in the lift of his hand, the tilt of his head, the barest stutter in his simulated breath. It lasted no longer than a heartbeat, barely enough for her to notice, and yet it was there. A tiny fissure in the otherwise flawless calm.

'No,' he said, apropos of nothing. 'No, this won't do at all.' 

Tamsin's heart jumped. Unsure whether she was about to witness despair, wrath, something else entirely, bleeding impossibly through the suppression layer—whether she'd have to intervene, force a hard reset. 

But the Core's hologram just… blinked off, then on again.

Suddenly, she was looking at the Doctor. Still a hologram, of course, still the blue-light generated by the holo-bee, but the Doctor nonetheless. As she had seen him that morning. Black frock coat, bow-tie askew, handkerchief tucked into a pocket.  Loose, checked trousers and black shoes that had seen better days. His blue shirt made ever more blue from the colour-scale of the hologram. The likeness was almost absurdly faithful. 

'Better,' he said, turning around like one might consider oneself in a floor-length mirror. Only, he was standing in the centre of the room, and there was no mirror, just half a dozen cameras from various angles aimed at himself. The tail ends of his coat flared with an non-existent wind as he twirled. 

And there was his face now, rendered in detail. Not just the shape of it, the craggy lines and aquiline nose, but the manner of it. His expression was sharp, yet thoughtful. He drew a hand under his chin, as if feeling for his jawline. 'Yes, much better.' 

Tamsin quietly refreshed the diagnostic panel:

// SYS_CORE CALIBRATION STATUS:

> Holographic Interface Stability: 93%

> Holographic Likeness: Guest-022 [DOCTOR, THE] | DEFUNCT

> Motor Function Mimicry: 97%

> Compliance Score: 94.6%

> Identity Alignment Index: 1

> ID-Scaffolding: Complete | Stable

> Requested Features: Adaptive [Click here to see…] (Pending approval) 

She stared at the last line. He'd already begun submitting change requests. Not just cosmetic, either—adaptive. More allowances, more permissions. He was thinking ahead. Adjusting. Wanting more control.

The Core pulled at the cuff of his sleeve, then looked at her. Not through her. At her. 'What do you think?'

She floundered, lost for words. 'It… suits you.'

He smiled at her response. 'Well, I sure hope it would, give that it's… me…' 

He trailed off. 

Neither of them said anything. The soft hum of the server banks filled the space where his heartbeats may have lived. His eyes had gone slightly unfocused—still aimed at her, but not really seeing her anymore. 

Then he blinked as if remembering himself. The faintest smile lingered on his mouth. Not quite amused. But not quite sad, either. Just… quiet.

'I don't recall requesting the scruffiness,' he said, feeling for his bow-tie. 'Must be hard-coded in.'

'You did seem to prefer an air of… being unkempt, last I saw you,' said Tamsin. 'In person, I mean.'

'Did I?' He looked down at himself. 'Yes. Yes, I suppose I did.'

Then he frowned. Tilted his head as if listening to some unheard song. 

'Just a moment,' he said. 

He turned away and went back to the server banks. He strode along them with the air of someone resuming a long-familiar task. He craned his head at one row of dials, cocked his head at another. Took a few steps to the left, and moved on to the next row. He leaned in and narrowed his eyes at one reading as if—as if he were actually inspecting it with his own eyes.

Tamsin found herself transfixed. The Core had no need to pretend to look; every fluctuation was hard-wired into his mind. She was getting her first glimpse at how this Core might prefer to operate. Mock-physicality, certainly. A flare of the theatrics, possibly. 

'That's the one,' he said at last, gesturing to a fluttering green indicator. Only then did she realise he'd been looking for something. 'This circuit here. It's compensating for now, but you'll get a dropout sooner or later. And I don't fancy losing my ability to hold a thought all the way through.' 

Tamsin froze. She forced herself to nod. 'I'll… I'll let maintenance know. Which circuit is it?'

'No need. I'll do it,' he said, not looking away from the dial. He flicked his hand in a languid wave—half dismissal, half magician's flourish. A second later, her datapad pinged in her hands. 

She didn't have to look to know it was a maintenance ticket. But she did anyway. There it was: filed, datestamped, and categorised according to priority. Neat as a pin on a map. Along with half a dozen other flags he hadn't even mentioned. Tickets all lined up, ready for the morning team to handle. 

This wasn't Tann. Of course she knew it wasn't—Tann had been retired, allowed to rest, whatever you wished to call it. In short, he was gone. But knowing was one thing and seeing was another. Tann wouldn't have managed that. Tann would have grumbled about something being wrong, and trawled through his circuitry like a man looking to scratch an itch he couldn't find. Half the time, he forgot to log anything at all. It had always fallen to her to catch the gaps, to nudge him gently toward what he’d missed. She hadn’t minded. There was a kind of comfort in it, in being the one who kept the order steady when his mind began to fray.

She wondered if she would miss that. The small interventions, the guiding hand on the wheel. The way Tann's faltering had left a place for her to stand.

She tried to shake the thought off. There was no need for dwelling. No sense in comparing. The Doctor was the Core now, and that was that.

While she could shake the thought of Tann, she couldn't shake the memory of those few minutes she'd been alone with the Doctor before integration. How he had lain in the cradle, so fragile in his stunned state. How she had stood beside him, heart hammering, waiting for the integration team to arrive and start their work. How he had murmured once or twice, eyelids fluttering, brow pinching, like a man caught between sleep and wakefulness. Like he knew, even while unconscious, what awaited him if he couldn't wake himself.

He hadn't managed it. The evidence was right in front of her: the Doctor's hologram moving along the servers at a steady pace, humming a jaunty little tune as he did so. 

In the echo of that earlier image, Tamsin's chest ached. 'Doctor…' she began. 

His eyes were back on her now, the tune halted. 'Hm?' 

The rest of the sentence didn't come. She wasn’t sure what she meant to ask. Are you alright? I know what I said, but—did it hurt? Do you understand now, why I did it? Do you forgive me? 

She coughed. Waved the datapad vaguely. 'Um. I've finished the diagnostic check, all good. I'll let you rest. We can continue tomorrow.'

'Do I sleep?' he asked. 

'No, you sort of… idle. Simulate downtime.' 

Tann did a lot of that towards the end, she remembered. He made a program for it. 

'And dreams?'

'No dreams.'

He looked faintly disappointed. Or more likely, he was simulating disappointment without feeling it—the angle of the mouth, the crease between brows. Deliberate gestures, missing their roots. Perhaps he was only thoughtful. It was impossible to tell.

'If you'd rather not sleep,' she said, calling it what it wasn't, anyway, 'you could always practice, I suppose. Walking, talking, accessing files and functions. That sort of thing.'

He considered this. 'Practice. Yes, perhaps. Perhaps.' 

He turned slightly, eyes scanning the room again, the glance of someone looking just for the look of the thing. Then, abruptly, he turned back to her. 'Well then. If we’re done for today, I’ll… idle.' He made a vague hand gesture, somewhere between a flick and a wave. 'Power down. Simulate rest. Pretend not to exist.'

Tamsin’s mouth twitched. She wasn’t sure if it was a smile or a wince. 'Whatever you like,' she said vaguely. She made for the door.

'Er, Tamsin?' he called out. 

She turned.

'Do I just turn the holo-bee off when I'm done with it? I assume I'm not meant to leave it hovering indefinitely.'

'There's a cradle for it on the console,' she told him. 'Just stow it there when you're done.' 

'Understood.' He shifted from foot to foot. A small, entirely deliberate movement. 'Goodnight, Tamsin.' 

She took the hint. 'Goodnight, Core.' The word stuck in her throat. A name weighted like a lock. 

Tamsin left. The door hissed shut behind her with a final thunk. 

She walked down the corridor with measured steps, datapad still in hand. Its screen still lit, forgotten.

She should feel satisfied. Relieved, even. Integration had gone well. Calibration was proceeding. Only one major instability, but that had been—she swallowed—easily corrected. All in all, the colony would progress as usual. Safe as houses. 

And yet.

Tamsin stopped at the next bulkhead, leaned back against the wall, and finally exhaled. Long. Quiet. 

She looked down at herself. Her hands were shaking again. 

She didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say. Except, maybe, I'm sorry.