This is an experiment, in "pop-up" annotated reviewing intended as much
to inform readers who may be unfamiliar with the source materials for
the fic as it is to comment on it's content.
----------
Damon Casale, damoo@jps.net
Spam, spam! WONDERFUL Spam!! ^_^
{This is a reference to a Monty Python skit about a restaurant that
{serves spam with everything}
-------------- Enclosure number 1 ----------------
"The data unit was a tiny, insignificant bit of electronics. I
{Actually it was very significant. But it was nondescript}
held it in my hands, the tears barely dry on my face after the news of
his
death. Trembling, I went to the bedroom, to the viewer that daddy had
{The data unit probably arrived the next day or later.}
left
there. In less than two minutes, my entire perspective was to change so
dramatically, that my life would never be the same. In that instant, as
{Many people suspect that Stingray actually somehow downloaded all of
his knowledge into his daughter's brain.}
the glow faded from the flickering viewscreen, I knew what I had to do."
-- Sylia Stingray, memoirs [of age 14]
{She was actually twelve during the time frame discussed}
{But is writing at the age of fourteen}
Bubblegum Slipt: A Story of the Bubblegum Crisis
{"Bubblegum" is supposed to be a reference to an economic boom}
{One that could collapse at any moment, like a popped bubble}
A Doctor Who Crossover story
By Damon Casale
damoo@jps.net
{Damon Casale is a prominent participant in the "Spam List"}
I: The Stranger
The tepid drizzle outside was ending, giving way to a fine mist
that filled the lungs and hindered breathing. The sky roiled with
clouds, threatening continued punishment at the slightest provocation.
Somewhere off in the distance, a car horn wailed, a lonely howl against
the unfriendly night.
{We have never seen an animal in Megatokyo. Not even a rat.}
{Not that this is relevant}
Pandrel was wheezing softly. Curse the foul weather, he
thought.
{Pandrel is an odd name for a Japanese man}
There would be no pickings tonight. The makeshift hut around him
shifted uneasily as the wind gusted and heaved momentarily. It would
hold, though. The timber was strong, and the aluminum panels themselves
{Wood is a surprising construction material in Megatokyo}
were lashed together carefully. They were holed in the corners with an
old
swiss army knife, then painstakingly smoothed and padded. Small bits of
a
heavy, fibrous cord, which he'd scavenged from the refuse and detritus
{However, the construction materials date back to old Tokyo}
piled high on this side of the canyon, held the panels in place.
The wind moaned again, a pained sound. Yes, most of the other
freejacks, as they called themselves, would be under cover, to say
nothing of the quiet, middle class plebes who took to the old town out
of a desire for excitement and adventure. They tended to huddle in
groups for protection, almost like an aristocratic herd of animals.
There were still enough willing to chance it singly or in pairs that he
could eke out his living, however.
{Pandrel appears to be a mugger}
Pandrel pushed a mold-eaten mattress across the hut's doorway,
partly to keep out the wind and partly to post an obvious "freeloaders
can eat shit and die" message to any wandering freejacks in the area.
There was a bundle of rags in one corner that served as his bed; he
collapsed into it, not bothering to undress. His own clothes were
nearly as much a part of him as his hair or fingers, and they served a
better measure of protection than his naked skin might.
For a while he stared into a high corner of the hut, where a
small
crack in the aluminum siding let in a view of the sky outside. A few
sickly stars shone fitfully down through the smog-filled air. The
{The internal combustion engine is still common in Megatokyo}
{Even though the Boomer power source would be more than an adequate
replacement}
steady
susurration of the wind outside, rising and falling in a complex pattern
just beyond his semiconscious ability to comprehend, slowly lulled him
toward dreamlessness.
{Apparently he does his dreaming when awake}
He awoke with a start, glancing about quickly, warily. The wind
and rain had altogether stopped, and the night was quiet.
{Too quiet}
{It had to be said}
No, that wasn't right. The night was silent as death.
Something was wrong.
{Pandrel appears to be psychic}
He rose silently, padding to the mattress to peek around it at
the world beyond. Nothing leaped forward and attacked him, biting and
scratching and tearing out his life. The panicky fear and dread that
{Or just paranoid}
had overcome him loosened its grip somewhat. Maybe a distant gunshot,
or car crash, or explosion. The crickets were already chirping again,
and a faint flapping sound overhead told of a bird seeking its roost
after whatever had disturbed the night.
The ground several meters away crackled softly. Pandrel tensed
again. Someone was walking towards the hut across the small, sharp
rubble he'd purposefully scattered outside. A hint of moonlight caught
a metallic form -- buma!, something inside him screamed. But it wasn't
a buma. Its head cocked away towards the earthquake-shredded pavement
{How does Pandrel know that isn't a buma?}
beyond his hut and tilted slightly, as if listening. Then, the thing
walked languidly out of sight towards the old town.
He cursed himself silently even as he knew he must follow. It
couldn't have been what had awoken him. No, whatever it was, it was
more likely an observer of the mysterious event, if event it was. Half
{A third demonstration of Pandrel's psychic powers.}
a minute later, the mattress slipped noiselessly aside, and he padded
across the ground without so much as a sound. The rough but cushiony
foam he'd wrapped his feet in for protection from the elements, as well
as for stealth, kept him unnoticed and unheard.
All at once, he saw it. Glowing amber like a dying fire, a
{Ooh. Pretty colours...wow man}
column of *otherness* rose into the night, reaching for the black void
above. Here and again at its base, electricity crackled across its
{Clouds must have moved in since there are now no stars}
width, giving the air a faintly acrid taste. Whatever unnatural and
hellish abomination this might be, there was only one answer for it.
There could be only one. Genom.
{Contrary to popular opinion, not everything sinister and strange is
Genom's fault.}
Standing on a small rise in front of him were four of the metal
creatures. One turned at his approach and regarded him with what he
felt must be a predatory look, and the black fear rose in him again. It
was only when it turned back again to gaze at the nightmare beyond that
he could relax. They, at least, were not from Genom, the most wretched
company imaginable.
{Pandrel assumes Genom agents would kill him on sight.}
Genom, the megalithic corporation that had revitalized Megatokyo
after the quake. Genom, the corporate giant that had dominated the
economy
of the city, and to a lesser extent the globe. Genom, the den of
iniquity
and corruption that had spawned countless evils, the most common of
{He's awfully moralistic for a psychic mugger}
which
had been the buma. Sadly, it was not merely the biomechanical
humanoids,
all too often perverted to murder and destruction, which haunted him
now.
* * *
The crystal column in the center of the console rose and fell,
meshing with an identical column in the ceiling, with a satisfying
familiarity. The room about it was dotted with gothic-Victorian
furniture
and high tech knicknacks. A fancy metal hatstand stood next to an oak-
paneled wall, accompanied by a large handbag and an umbrella.
The console, blending elements of the quaint and the
ultra-modern,
bleeped and booped happily, humming to itself. The machine was in good
spirits, inasmuch as was possible with only rudimentary emotive empathic
programming.
{"inasmuch" doesn't mean the same thing as "as much"}
{It means "because"}
Outside the room, outside the machine, a whirling tumbling
nothingness darted by, impossibly fast. If one had eyes to see it and a
place to stand, one might have made out a faint bluish afterglow from
the passage of the machine. It was oddly shaped, a tall blue box with a
bobby light on top. Both within the room where the console stood and
immediately outside, a groaning, wheezing sound echoed, vaguely similar
to the sound a train might make as it pulls into the station.
{This sound is often associated with arrival and departure}
{But it may just indicate a course chance in this case}
From beyond an arched doorway came the sound of a man's voice.
It was difficult to make out the words, on the whole, because of the
wheezing sound. But the woman's, or more appropriately the girl's,
voice
that followed was unmistakable.
{This scene is being written from the point of view of a tv audience}
"Professor! That's not being very fair, how come I don't get a
{Ace's habit of calling the Doctor, "Professor" would make perfect sense
if her native language was Japanese}
say in it?" the girl's voice said. It had the cockney accent one might
find on the streets of middle-class London, without sounding middle-
class.
{Whatever that means}
Immediately, it was answered, and this time the man's voice was
loud enough to be understood. "Because it's a surprise, Ace. Don't you
like surprises? It's a vacation planet, and lord knows we need one
after the business with the Cybermen."
{Cybermen are clumsy-looking humanoid cyborgs who are nasty}
{Not to be confused with the Daleks who are non-humanoid cyborgs and
_really_ nasty}
As if the business of being in an enormously complicated and
intricate machine, traveling through nothingness with reckless abandon,
and carrying two very human sounding passengers who obviously thought
little of the sheer unbelievability of their situation -- as if it all
were not nearly enough, the appearance of the passengers themselves was
even less reassuring.
{Fortunately, nobody was in need of reassurance}
The smallish man wore a tan hat and colorful sweater, with a
shirt
collar embroidered with a pair of question marks poking from underneath
it.
{This is a Gallifreyan. They regenerate into new forms when near death}
{Or when they have to replace actors}
His hands were gesturing in wide arcs, as if hugging to himself all that
surrounded him in the slightly gothic chamber containing the console,
claiming it as his own. Which, in fact, it was. His face was warm and
friendly, with a long nose sticking out beneath two deep brown eyes. He
was wearing a clownish smile, as if everything during his entire life
had
been happy and gay, and he hadn't a care in the world. Nothing could,
of
course, be further from the truth.
{This is the seventh Doctor, who was played by Sylvester McCoy}
The girl was pert, walking quickly, very sure of herself. A
short ponytail and a cheeky smile she wore, both with confidence and a
bit of flippancy. The backpack completed the college girl look, but
something about her manner gave air to her never having been in a
{Oops. That should be "gave an air to her of never..."}
college of any sort, but more of a high mannered street urchin life.
"And I'm glad it's over. If I never see another robot with a gun and a
mind to use it for the rest of my life, it'll be too soon." She
{Foreshadowing is a handy literary tool}
giggled, and the man realized she was pulling his leg.
{Figuratively speaking}
"Ace," said the Doctor, for that was what he called himself,
{Because his real name is enormously long as is typical for his species}
"where we're going, they serve the drinks with a spoon, and the pastries
{A really big spoon}
they bake are lighter than--"
The console interrupted him, squealing in alarm. An ominous,
echoing *klong* vibrated throughout the whole of the machine. The
Doctor dashed forward and began poking and prodding at several things on
the console all at once. What he did or how long he did it or how often
the dire-sounding *klong* echoed yet again was impossible to say. The
{Because the author didn't bother to keep track}
girl
kept silent, and the seconds, then minutes, dragged on.
"It's no good," he muttered finally, drawing back. "Something's
ruptured the space-time continuum, and she won't respond. We'll have to
materialize soon, or we never will at all."
{The chance that the Doctor's TARDIS will arrive at any intended
destination on the first try is 28%.}
{Another fine product of Hibiki Industries}
"Well, where and when are we?" Ace asked.
"Still near enough to Earth, although a bit farther along," he
replied, without taking issue at the outlandish question. "Hold on to
something, this won't be very gen--" The entire room bucked, and he was
thrown against a wall. "--tle..."
{Unusually short travel time}
The old city was quiet again. The column had disappeared from
sight, slowly vanishing in a whirl of electric reds and blues. Whether
or not it had ceased to exist, however, was not entirely certain.
{Except to the author and the evil mastermind}
{So I guess it was certain after all}
There was a shimmering in the air, a faint bluish light. The
same wheezing, groaning sound grew louder and louder, frightening the
night creatures into silence once more. Then, the sound wavered and
died
away into the silence of the night. Where the shimmering had appeared,
the blue box now rested, slightly askew on the broken pavement that once
had been a superhighway crossing the canyon, before some great
earthquake
had torn the land apart.
{The Second Great Kanto Earthquake depopulated Japan, creating a labour
shortage filled by a flood of immigrants as well as the boomers}
Pandrel was very unhappy at being awakened a second time, and he
peered out from around the corner of his hut in tense annoyance. The
sight of the two strangers emerging in a cloud of smoke from the blue
box, cursing and sputtering, was enough to turn his spirits, though. He
crouched low, and listened as they came nearer.
"This place really gives me the creeps. Are you sure it's
Earth?"
came the girl's voice. Pandrel nearly coughed in shock at the
statement.
Is he sure it's Earth??!? he wondered. What the hell? Who?
"Of course I'm sure," said the man. "It's not very hard to tell
you know, not when you've been around. That canyon there? There were
two
major earthquakes that formed that, one in the late 2020's. We're in
Japan, fairly close to Tokyo, proper." The voice smiled. "And if the
fellow behind that hut decides to spring out and rob us of our pennies,
you'll see he's quite human, too."
Pandrel started guiltily, stepping away from the hut and eyeing
the
strangers.
"Hello." The man waved cheerfully. "I'm the Doctor, and this
is
Ace. Lovely night, isn't it?"
Pandrel would have none of it. He skulked back into his hut and
pushed the mattress into place. Whoever they might be, they spoke
Japanese well enough. But the night had been full of too many odd
things
to make any course of action other than shutting all of it out safe
enough.
{Of course if they are speaking Japanese, then Ace will be calling the
Doctor, "sensei" instead of "sensei"}
"That's it, then," the Doctor sighed. "Let's get going. We
should be in Tokyo by morning."
{The Doctor gives up on his potential witness rather easily}
Ace simply gaped. "You're kidding, right?"
"Of course not," he said. "The TARDIS isn't going anywhere in
the shape it's in, and we'd best not hang about here. Let's go see the
town, shall we?"
{An acronym for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space}
It was several hours before Ace and the Doctor arrived at what
could loosely be termed civilization. A small electric lantern allowed
them to pick and scrabble their way towards the city. After reaching
{Electric lantern is a rather quaint expression, don't you think?}
the
canyon itself, they slowly hiked across, along the only major
thoroughfare
which had been cobbled together to bridge it, since the last great Kanto
quake of 2025. From there, the two of them entered the dangerous side
of
Tokyo. Though the entire city was a morass of civil and social unrest
to
begin with, the area they had entered had the disheartening appearance
of
one huge, run-down trailer park. It was the worst place to begin asking
questions about what might have caused their troubles the evening
before.
{And since they just walked miles away from the source of the problem,
there wouldn't be much point anyway.}
It was the worst time of the day as well, when the dawn was just
beginning
{Actually that's not a bad time. The nocturnal predators would
be mostly quiescent}
to creep over the sleeping giant of a city, stirring it to reluctant,
wary
wakefulness.
Naturally, it was there that they began.
A thundering horde of motorbikes roared past them on the street.
Most of the bikers swerved left down a side street ahead of them,
kicking
up a rain of debris which pelted the nearby shops.
A huge, crudely shaven brute, wearing an earring which sported a
skeletal, but clearly human finger, swept up in front of a bar across
the
street. His motorbike was a hulking monster, with the moniker "Cranks"
neoned onto the gas tank. There it sat, trembling and idling at a dull
roar, its power restrained for the moment.
The gangster jumped off of his bike and effortlessly shoved his
way
inside the bar. The unfortunate bouncer at the door took a meaty fist
to
the sternum and flew headfirst through the wall, the crash and sickening
wet slapping sound audible even over the motorcycle's engine.
{Apparently this is a 24-hour bar}
Moments later, the street was almost quiet again.
"Professor," Ace whispered, "I don't like it. Let's go back."
"Nonsense," he replied. "We've only just arrived. We haven't
even
had breakfast yet."
{This is how the Doctor always gets into trouble}
Ace glanced around the street. Nearly a mile away, a woman
screamed shrilly, then fell silent in mid-scream. "I'm not very
hungry."
{Odd thing to scream}
From a trailer at the end of a dirt cul-de-sac, a pair of
intensely
brown eyes followed them down the street suspiciously. "Shit," muttered
a
woman's voice just inside.
{Priss's neighborhood may not be nice, but it is paved.}
* * *
"Priss, you can't be sure they had anything to do with it," a
short, redheaded girl said. The redhead in question was leaning against
{Virtually every recent shonen (boys) series we see has a cute
red-headed girl}
a
wall in a meticulously neat storage room, with an innocent and disarming
gaze that seemed at odds with the very serious expression she wore.
Several boxes were carefully piled in short stacks in a far corner.
Most
were labeled "Silky Doll".
{The Silky Doll is a high-toned lingerie shop owned by Sylia Stingray}
"Oh yeah? Explain those two strangers showing up in *that*
district of MegaTokyo the morning after we saw that--that *thing*."
{The "thing" in question is the energy pillar}
This
time it was a taller woman wearing a biker jacket. Those same intensely
brown eyes hammered unmercifully against an innocent dust bunny drifting
across the floor for a full three seconds, before she turned to gaze at
the lady standing across from her.
Lady was all the description Sylia needed. Her demeanor bespoke
of an inner calm that radiated outward, sweeping away Priss's low,
rumbling
anger. She wore a small, practiced smile which flicked to cover the
other
three women present.
"Priss has a valid point," Sylia concluded. "Nene--"
{She does?}
The redhead nodded quickly. "I'll find out who they are," she
replied.
The fourth woman, who had thus far remained silent, now spoke.
"But they're not Genom people, are they?" She seemed the most nervous
of the four.
{Isn't everyone?}
"No," Priss agreed. "But they're dead if they stay around there
for too long."
Linna, the fourth, giggled. "The Ota district doesn't give you
any
trouble."
"They know better than that," Priss shot back without missing a
beat.
Sylia's expression flickered again momentarily. Instantly, the
other two women were silent. "Nene," Sylia began after a slight pause,
"run a low level Mellifera search on any kind of research going on on
the
other side of the fault."
{Apis Mellifera are honey bees}
The data search would take time, perhaps even weeks. But it
would
provide them with the starting point they needed, and they could afford
to
be patient.
{After all, it's not like the world's going to end.}
{Right?}
{Right?!}
Nene nodded.
Sylia smiled, effecting a slight, graceful nod in return. "That
concludes our business today. Don't forget the training session this
evening, after the concert. Good luck, Priss."
Priss grinned impishly. "I'll knock 'em dead."
They all laughed.
"I'm sure you will," Sylia whispered to herself.
{Sylia and Priss are frequently romantically linked in fanfiction}
{There is no basis for this in the actual series except that neither
has ever expressed interest in a man}
The women filed slowly out of the back room into the shop
proper,
emerging behind a gaudy display of bras in a rear corner. While Sylia
and
Nene pretended to haggle over an obscenely expensive and fragile bit of
lace, Priss and Linna browsed for a few minutes longer, then left the
shop, going their separate ways.
In the storage room, a small computer screen embedded in the
wall
flickered to life. It had been perfectly concealed until the phosphor
glow etched a series of hiragana and English letters onto the display.
"News segment detected," it said. "Video logging activated." Then the
text gave way to film, displaying a series of steps outside of a large
corporate building.
"This is Jessica Genjiro, reporting live from Genom tower," said
a
tall woman in red, from earrings to high heels. She was holding a tube
microphone with practiced ease.
A subtitle flashed briefly on the screen. "Flag search key:
Genom".
She waved it at three icy figures standing just behind her,
bedecked in corporate blue. "Three of the Genom board of directors are
resigning today, pending an investigation into the diversion of funds
into
a secret research project which, I have been informed, has resulted in a
precarious, potentially deadly situation."
{Ordinarily GENOM would keep that kind of information secret}
She offered the mike to a tall, hawk-nosed man to her right.
"David Nakamura, can you give us any details about the project itself?"
The director didn't move a muscle. "We don't know ourselves,"
he
whispered harshly. "A security force was deployed into the old town,
past
the Fault."
{In what way is that a research project?}
Another subtitle flashed onto the screen. "Flag search key:
Fault". A moment later, it was replaced, and this time the subtitle
remained. "PRIORITY LOG FILE".
"These were standard, class B service boomers. We don't risk
human
lives as guards."
{Usually, GENOM uses class C boomers as guards}
"Flag search key: Boomers".
"The record of their deployment was left in the computer,
purpose
listed as top secret. No mention of who made the requisition was
logged.
Again, we don't know ourselves."
{Why are 3 directors resigning over 2 misplaced Boomers?}
The woman next to him picked up the story. "Two of the boomers
didn't return, but their service frequencies still list them as active
in
Ota district. The remote recall circuits have failed, but even *we*
can't
get authorization to retrieve them ourselves."
{Ordinarily this kind of news conference would be given by AD Police,
not GENOM}
The reporter nodded. "The AD police is being dispatched to the
scene at this moment."
{This reporter is a stooge}
"Flag search key: AD Police".
"Citizens are advised to remain indoors, and out of danger."
The screen flickered as the news brief ended and another began,
then it returned to text mode. "PRIORITY LOG FILE. ACTION QUERY?"
appeared, followed by a blinking cursor.
The question was met with silence.
* * *
The Doctor and Ace had taken refuge inside a seedy looking
restaurant and bar. It was nearly noon, and the heat was beginning to
drive a respectable portion of the crowd indoors in search of shelter.
The
waitresses were kept busy, scurrying into the kitchen and back again
with
grease-laden trays for the poorer customers, and delicate sweetmeats for
the one or two true middle class citizens, while the bartender kept a
wary
eye on his patrons.
{Sweet-meats contain no meat}
{They are sugary cakes in this case}
{End of chapter one/part one}