Supremedalekdunn
Lego Doctor Who - The Lost Child - 1
Regeneration.
A fascinating concept in many ways.
The ability to completely restore one’s body in an instant.
Remarkable isn’t it?
I’ve undergone the process so many times I’ve lost count…..and yet it never gets easier.
You’d imagine that at this point the process would be easy for me. That it would be normal. But there’s nothing normal about it. How would you feel to be rewritten? To know that in order to live, everything about who you are has to change. It scares me every single time I go through it. But uncertainty does that to people. We all fear the unknown in some shape or form. Of course the unknown can appear in so many different ways itself, that’s why we react to various new things we encounter differently. Generally, people react with intrigue. Discovery is perhaps the most rewarding activity of all, so of course when we encounter something new, we're intrigued.
In my case, I often get quite giddy at encountering something new. After just shy of 5,000 years exploring all of time and space it’s rare that I get to speak my favourite saying.
‘I don’t know’
Well….more like my second favourite but that’s not important. Yet at the same time, those same words that excite me, also terrify me. Especially when I know what’s about to happen.
I can already feel the process beginning. The energy build up is already starting to kill my kidneys. What a marvellous colour they are…..they were…..It’s coming. I can feel it.
He’s a coming.
Who? I hear you asking.
That answer is simple.
The Doctor.
The Doctor is coming.
Just what sort of Doctor, I cannot say.
Is he a hero? A healer? A protector?
Who can truly say.
Certainly not this face.
Which then begs the question.
When do I know what sort of man I’ve become?
The answer is ambiguous for a reason. Regeneration is known to be a disorienting process regardless of what number it is. The final of a regeneration cycle is…particularly volatile. The last time I used the last regeneration of a cycle, I destroyed the console room. Ended up crashing into a little girl’s garden shed. Her name…..escapes me.
The curse of the Timelord.
So much life.
So many memories….only to fade away into fragments.
I can barely even remember Susan’s face. My own granddaughter. What sort of a person does that make me?
No doubt so would say that makes me a monster.
How can someone just forget about their family?
But that doesn’t concern me.
What concerns me more, are my actions.
What…
What I did to Davros….
How could I let myself do that?
He was sick.
He was dying.
But that didn’t stop me.
I still whispered those terrible words in his ear….
Maybe one day I can forgive myself for that.
But not like this. Not with this face. The wound isn’t even serious enough to force a regeneration. That’s how ashamed I feel. So disgraced by my own actions that I’m willingly regenerating, simply in the hopes that the process will scramble my brain enough so I’ll forget what I just did.
Sadly, that brief moment of grace will be short lived.
Just like every other moment.
It’ll end.
Everything ends eventually.
Even me.
I’m just slow at doing so.
But that won’t be the case anymore. This is the last regeneration in my second cycle. What the Timelords intended as a gift ended up becoming a prison. Rather fitting for them. Especially given their role in forcing my second change. Frankly, it simply amazes me that I didn’t see that sooner. Rassilon may well have been grateful for when I saved Gallifrey by trapping it in a pocket universe, but I suspect that his reasons are far more primitive than he would ever care to confess.
He was after all, the one who designed Gallifreyan biology to prevent a thirteenth regeneration. Many speculated that was to keep his followers in line. But I know better. Rassilon’s mind was cursed to the dark tower in the death zone on Gallifrey. Whilst he was able to pass in and out of the Matrix, he could never fully integrate with it. He was stuck in our realm for eternity. No wonder he was driven mad.
A story is only meaningful with an ending. In many regards, you can say the same about a life.
Maybe that’s why a new regeneration cycle was granted to me.
To show that I’m worthless.
That I’m disposable.
The Timelords after all, are sworn never to interfere in significant events.
For them to grant me a new cycle so willingly merely demonstrates that.
Or so I like to tell myself.
In reality it’s merely desperation. That’s why they gave me a new cycle. I’m the only one capable of bringing them back into the Universe. Whether they like it or not, I am the one who controls Gallifrey’s future. I would be anyways.
If I could find it.
Ever since the crack in time on Trenzalore closed I’ve found almost nothing. Just…echoes….
Whispers.
Those are all meaningless.
And now, with this regeneration….time is against me.
One last life.
One chance to save an entire species, or cause it’s extinction.
It all begins with the man who inherits this box.
I just hope that man is the Doctor…..
Lego Doctor Who - The Lost Child - 1
Regeneration.
A fascinating concept in many ways.
The ability to completely restore one’s body in an instant.
Remarkable isn’t it?
I’ve undergone the process so many times I’ve lost count…..and yet it never gets easier.
You’d imagine that at this point the process would be easy for me. That it would be normal. But there’s nothing normal about it. How would you feel to be rewritten? To know that in order to live, everything about who you are has to change. It scares me every single time I go through it. But uncertainty does that to people. We all fear the unknown in some shape or form. Of course the unknown can appear in so many different ways itself, that’s why we react to various new things we encounter differently. Generally, people react with intrigue. Discovery is perhaps the most rewarding activity of all, so of course when we encounter something new, we're intrigued.
In my case, I often get quite giddy at encountering something new. After just shy of 5,000 years exploring all of time and space it’s rare that I get to speak my favourite saying.
‘I don’t know’
Well….more like my second favourite but that’s not important. Yet at the same time, those same words that excite me, also terrify me. Especially when I know what’s about to happen.
I can already feel the process beginning. The energy build up is already starting to kill my kidneys. What a marvellous colour they are…..they were…..It’s coming. I can feel it.
He’s a coming.
Who? I hear you asking.
That answer is simple.
The Doctor.
The Doctor is coming.
Just what sort of Doctor, I cannot say.
Is he a hero? A healer? A protector?
Who can truly say.
Certainly not this face.
Which then begs the question.
When do I know what sort of man I’ve become?
The answer is ambiguous for a reason. Regeneration is known to be a disorienting process regardless of what number it is. The final of a regeneration cycle is…particularly volatile. The last time I used the last regeneration of a cycle, I destroyed the console room. Ended up crashing into a little girl’s garden shed. Her name…..escapes me.
The curse of the Timelord.
So much life.
So many memories….only to fade away into fragments.
I can barely even remember Susan’s face. My own granddaughter. What sort of a person does that make me?
No doubt so would say that makes me a monster.
How can someone just forget about their family?
But that doesn’t concern me.
What concerns me more, are my actions.
What…
What I did to Davros….
How could I let myself do that?
He was sick.
He was dying.
But that didn’t stop me.
I still whispered those terrible words in his ear….
Maybe one day I can forgive myself for that.
But not like this. Not with this face. The wound isn’t even serious enough to force a regeneration. That’s how ashamed I feel. So disgraced by my own actions that I’m willingly regenerating, simply in the hopes that the process will scramble my brain enough so I’ll forget what I just did.
Sadly, that brief moment of grace will be short lived.
Just like every other moment.
It’ll end.
Everything ends eventually.
Even me.
I’m just slow at doing so.
But that won’t be the case anymore. This is the last regeneration in my second cycle. What the Timelords intended as a gift ended up becoming a prison. Rather fitting for them. Especially given their role in forcing my second change. Frankly, it simply amazes me that I didn’t see that sooner. Rassilon may well have been grateful for when I saved Gallifrey by trapping it in a pocket universe, but I suspect that his reasons are far more primitive than he would ever care to confess.
He was after all, the one who designed Gallifreyan biology to prevent a thirteenth regeneration. Many speculated that was to keep his followers in line. But I know better. Rassilon’s mind was cursed to the dark tower in the death zone on Gallifrey. Whilst he was able to pass in and out of the Matrix, he could never fully integrate with it. He was stuck in our realm for eternity. No wonder he was driven mad.
A story is only meaningful with an ending. In many regards, you can say the same about a life.
Maybe that’s why a new regeneration cycle was granted to me.
To show that I’m worthless.
That I’m disposable.
The Timelords after all, are sworn never to interfere in significant events.
For them to grant me a new cycle so willingly merely demonstrates that.
Or so I like to tell myself.
In reality it’s merely desperation. That’s why they gave me a new cycle. I’m the only one capable of bringing them back into the Universe. Whether they like it or not, I am the one who controls Gallifrey’s future. I would be anyways.
If I could find it.
Ever since the crack in time on Trenzalore closed I’ve found almost nothing. Just…echoes….
Whispers.
Those are all meaningless.
And now, with this regeneration….time is against me.
One last life.
One chance to save an entire species, or cause it’s extinction.
It all begins with the man who inherits this box.
I just hope that man is the Doctor…..