Doctor Who - 02 - The Art of Forgetting

.5. The Barrier of Thoughts

"I still don't really get it," said the Doctor as they were jogging down the green corridor; running wasn't exactly the Ood's cup of tea. "Can you elaborate? What happened to the computer? And what are the Cells? I've never heard of any Cells."

"The computer generates adventures based upon the set of elementary scripts, which undergo several stages of personalisation, initially with a preferential questionnaire..."

"Yes," the Doctor interrupted. "I know; it's the questionnaire I... The questionnaire I didn't fill up. Too many personal questions; way too personal, if you ask me."

"Subsequently the user enters his or her own data, which in turn enables the second stage of personalisation..."

"Ooo, yes, what the author was thinking and what the author was thinking," the Doctor chipped in, with a wink towards Theta, who wasn't even looking at him. "Personality and preferences analysis based upon the uploaded script."

"And finally the user creates his or her avatar, thus finalising the adventure's personalisation," finished Theta, completely unfazed. "As a result there is a possibility of nearly unlimited expanding of pre-existing elementary scripts."

"That's where I have to disagree," the Doctor murmured. "My script was far from limitless. Of course I couldn't use any elementary script as a background; the closest to my needs was the "Time Machine" and this is... how should I put it... It's not even the same galaxy!"

"True," said the Ood, pausing to catch his breath. "After some time, repeatability begins to appear in all computer generated adventures. And repeatability creates the plush."

"Plush?" the Doctor repeated, not sure if he heard it right.

"A perceivable artificiality; denominated the perceivable-logistic-uncomplimentary-shortcomings or 'the plush' by early technicians," the Ood explained.

"The best computer in the universe generates plush," mused the Doctor. "I was right; I did make a serious mistake."

"Regulating Cells diminish the appearance of the plush," finished Theta.

"How?"

"I don't know." The Ood's translator ball stripped his words of all intonation, but the Doctor clearly picked whole loads of plush in this brief statement.

"Is there any legal clause that forbids you talking about it?" he asked gently.

The Ood's slanting eyes turned towards his face. Again the Doctor was surprised with the intensity of his gaze; it seemed that the Ood was consciously trying to project something other than words and facial expression, something that would directly reach the Doctor's brain. The Doctor could hear his song; a broken harmony of anxiety; but he certainly wasn't able to pick any words or images.

"What are the Cells, Theta?"

"I am not allowed to ask about it. Or to talk about it."

"You said that there was a serious malfunction and that we needed to inspect the Cells. Why? What do you need me for? How can I be of any use, if I don't know what I am dealing with?"

The Ood slowly turned his eyes away.

"We'd better hurry," he said. "The human song is fading."

"Yes." The Doctor also averted his eyes. "Right. There should be lifts somewhere here?"

"Just round the corner."

"So... we'll get to the Cells..." the Doctor began.

"You will get to the Cells," Theta corrected. "I... can't do it."