The Bizarre Adventures of Doctor Who

The Hermit & the Headmaster

Working in the television industry's a strange thing Herman came to understand during the introductory period. Commanding people on the set like he's a general, maneuvering paperwork like one, so much papers that came through on his desk, it's a miracle there's any trees left standing!

Yet, here he was, making scripts, directing them, commanding his fleet as he worked bringing his scripts to life, with the people above him pleased with the outcome, seeing as there's a rating boost.

Going into the far trenches of his mind, Herman found inspiration for his scripts, so many things, poor keyboards couldn't keep up with his typing.

He'd gone through twelve of them because he broke them from typing so much that they no longer functioned properly.

Or he typed too hard.

Can't figure out which.

Eventually, River just got him an old keyboard with an adapter, figuring that it survived twenty years, maybe it'll survive three more under Herman's use.

It's holding up, surprisingly well, and he's able to continuously type out the scripts as he gets inspiration.

Don't know how many scripts he's up to, now, but he's got plenty that'll please the people above him.

Interconnected in every way possible, with enough room that people who catch an episode or two out of order aren't left with confusion, mildly, but enough there's interest following along his stories.

River joked that once he's done with the show, he'll move onto becoming a writer, maybe he'll set a record for totaling the most keyboards.

Ah, River, the apple of his eyes, but the thorn in his backside most times.

Today, she's elsewhere, on her own little adventure, causing problems of her own, surely.

For Herman, he's in a restaurant with paperwork near him and a plate of food in front of him, his wooden pipe sticking out on the side of his mouth.

They're not fond of him smoking, apparently that's not kosher anymore, but they're nice enough to let him keep the wooden pipe in his mouth, so long as he doesn't light it.

Good, he can't focus without it.

Looking over paperwork in between eating from his plate of shepherd's pie, complete with mash, mushy peas, and the gravy, Herman's dark eyes slowly moved over the paperwork as he went through the pages.

The joy of working in the industry, paperwork, plenty of it.

Obligations, tallies, you name it, he's seen it more than once, trying to sign the right lines, stamping what needed stamping, whatever the case may be.

Since River isn't here, he's on his own, he couldn't be trusted in the kitchen, River says he couldn't cook to save his own life, so he's in the restaurant.

Honest, Herman can cook, but the way humans' cook's far different than putting in codes and turning dials, waiting for their foods to materialize before them.

River said it didn't count and that humans wouldn't survive having access to that type of technology, purely because they wouldn't have to go outside or pay outrageous fees.

They'd drop like flies if they gotten their hands on pizzas and whatever edibles the size of their flats without having to worry about costs.

... It was a nice thought, but perhaps the power of the replicator couldn't be trusted with humans.

Oh well, they're missing out on not having to think about dishes, the dish wares the food materialized in easily turned into beneficial plants with only a drop of fresh water and a planter.