ukan | 001.

[The first thing Lark does is follow his nose. He gets himself some food, enough to clear his mind, and then finds a quiet corner up on the deck where he can watch the universe drift by. He watches the network first, making cursory judgments of the people there. And then he turns the camera on himself.

He's not sure any of this is real, but it's always safest to pretend it is. If it's real to these people, it needs to be real to him.]

Monarchism depth doubtfully entrancing.

[He closes his eyes, no. Not right. Slow breath in: who am I?]

Sorry. My name is Lark. I've already introduced myself to the cafeteria, [he holds up his clean spoon] You eat pretty well here. Better than I've had in other cages. I can tell what most of the things on my plate were originally. In a place like this, in times like these, that's a blessing.

[Now the question. Time to find out the important things. He should have waited, but he doesn't have time to spare.

Who am I? Lark. Where am I? That, as Shakespeare said, is the question.]

I'm still monkey lid drudging cloud?

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It sounds like a paradise.

[Tell him more, Narvin, he's listening.]

It is, for some. Or it was. The planet has been through some difficult years lately. But it's still quite beautiful. The gleaming spires of the ancient monuments of the Capitol stretch to the sky and the corridors ring with the soft sound of bells keeping the time.

[Narvin rarely gets even slightly poetic. Lark has brought out what tiny shred of aestheticism exists in him by asking about Gallifrey. Narvin loves his planet.]

It reminds me of the way they described the Hanging Gardens. [The sheer beauty of it, if not the plantlife.] The animals? Are there any?

In the Outlands, yes. Flutterwings, pigbears, trunkikes, flubbles, tafelshrews...

[Although Narvin is a city boy through and through and doesn't know much about the wildlife outside the Capitol.]

What's a flubble like?

Fairly standard mammal. Fur. Six legs. Round ears.

Fangs? Pack animal?

Harmless herbivore. They live in family units.

Why? Do you have a particular interest in Hounds? [He says the word Hound with a very slight emphasis. It's a sensitive subject.]

[And that emphasis gives him pause. At home, no one knows they're around, but they're Dogs or Coyotes. Lycanthropes and werewolves. And there's a reason they try to stay secret.]

No, not in Hounds. Just in nature. I'm surprised you have dogs there.

[Narvin relaxes now that he knows that Lark wasn't trying to imply something. Hounds were what Gallifreyans, under certain circumstances, devolved into. And it wasn't something Narvin felt comfortable about.]

They aren't dogs, not in the Earth sense.

On Gallifrey, we appreciate nature well enough, but most of us would much rather appreciate it from a distance.

[He logs the reaction away, but isn't willing to risk the conversation by pushing for it.]

What can you learn from a distance?

Quite a lot with the proper scanning equipment.

[Time Lords do a lot of watching from a distance. On and off their planet.]

But not behaviors, not what it's really like.

I suppose not. But if one really wanted to have the full Nature experience they'd go become an Outsider, not a scientist.

[The way Narvin says the word "Outsider" is the same way a person would say "those people." He doesn't hate them. They're still Gallifreyans. But he doesn't understand them at all and can't comprehend what might possess people to go live in the wilds as hunter-gatherers when there was a perfectly good technologically advanced domed city right there.]

Well, there's a difference between going native and being completely detached from it all. There are nuances you can't catch without getting your hands dirty.

Do a lot of your folk become Outsiders?

Not many, but enough to make a sustainable population outside the dome of the Capitol.

Are they capable of, ah, mingling genetics with the foreign populations?

[Narvin stiffens slightly in prudish discomfort at the topic.]

Gallifreyans don't mingle genetics at all. With foreign populations or with each other. Not in the sense I assume you mean.

Really? How fascinating. And wise, I imagine, think of the genetic abnormalities that could introduce.... But not a single Outsider has ever...?

My race is sterile. From Outsiders to Shobogans to Time Lords. All of them. It's been that way for nearly a billion years now.

Some of the Outsiders may very well... [Nope, not saying the words.]

But genetic offspring could never result.

Are you immortal? How were you...? [Created? Born? What's the right word?]

Our lifespans are quite long, but not immortal.

Our children's bodies are woven on genetic Looms. Each parent contributes DNA, the Loom then integrates the two samples and converts energy into the matter from which our cells are made. We haven't relied on the...ah...messier method in a very long time.

...that's beautiful. And much cleaner, even, than how my people are made. As far as I know we're sterile, too, though most of them haven't lost the taste for the...messy act. [As Narvin put it.]

Indeed.

[Awkward clearing of throat. Narvin doesn't do well with conversations about sex. Even when it's just vague euphemisms.]

My people are rather cerebral by nature and culture.

[Which means they like to pretend that they've lost the taste, and often try very hard to ignore their bodies. It doesn't always work.]

That's an admirable trait. I hope your kind are less eager to destroy their planet than the humans of my world.

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