![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the age of steel.
Jan. 6th, 2014 12:10 amThe resistance performs admirably. She loves that about humans, in any universe: they try so hard, and so enthusiastically. They look at her with hope in their eyes - this universe where she's a clean slate, this pretty little pocket where they trust her implicitly and she has no history. She could do it here, she thinks. Not just to wipe out the blight that is the Cybermen from this universe, but for them, at least a little bit.
It comes down to this: the Doctor, her fingers curled around a ridiculously primitive phone, flanked by Cybermen and talking pleasantly with their Controller. "You've created a virus," she says. One of the Cybermen grabs hold of her arm, keeps it in a bruising grip.
She almost fancies she hears a touch of a sneer in the Cyber Controller's voice. "I've created life. Superior life."
"You'd think that, wouldn't you. It's really not, though." Every piece of technology in this building is compatible. "Even the people you're converting have more potential. At least they do something other than replicate and conquer." Her phone buzzes. The resistance have come through with the codes she needs to shut down the Cybermen's emotional inhibitors.
"Oh, look at that," she says, flatly. "It's for you."
Cybermen aren't supposed to feel pain or sadness or insanity. The ones whose circuits don't overload will probably kill themselves out of horror.
"No," the Controller says. "No, what have you done - "
One of the Cybermen reaches out to her, voice twisting into some grotesque parody of a whimper. "I've killed you," she says. "You should hate me." She looks around, at the once-people grasping for the only flesh they see, the one familiar thing, and thinks, a good person would stay. A good person would at least keep them company.
So she doesn't walk away. She sits down on one of the consoles and looks at them steadily, and she doesn't walk away. "It will be over soon. That's the one thing I can promise you."
It comes down to this: the Doctor, her fingers curled around a ridiculously primitive phone, flanked by Cybermen and talking pleasantly with their Controller. "You've created a virus," she says. One of the Cybermen grabs hold of her arm, keeps it in a bruising grip.
She almost fancies she hears a touch of a sneer in the Cyber Controller's voice. "I've created life. Superior life."
"You'd think that, wouldn't you. It's really not, though." Every piece of technology in this building is compatible. "Even the people you're converting have more potential. At least they do something other than replicate and conquer." Her phone buzzes. The resistance have come through with the codes she needs to shut down the Cybermen's emotional inhibitors.
"Oh, look at that," she says, flatly. "It's for you."
Cybermen aren't supposed to feel pain or sadness or insanity. The ones whose circuits don't overload will probably kill themselves out of horror.
"No," the Controller says. "No, what have you done - "
One of the Cybermen reaches out to her, voice twisting into some grotesque parody of a whimper. "I've killed you," she says. "You should hate me." She looks around, at the once-people grasping for the only flesh they see, the one familiar thing, and thinks, a good person would stay. A good person would at least keep them company.
So she doesn't walk away. She sits down on one of the consoles and looks at them steadily, and she doesn't walk away. "It will be over soon. That's the one thing I can promise you."
