[ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ]

[oddbod]

I have a question about nanites.

[Said casually, but with a certain amount of self-importance. Clara Oswald opens conversations as though they were great doors to be flung.]

They're what bring us back when we die, yeah? They repair what's malfunctioned, like... like a pit team. [She thinks that's what they're called, at least.] But what if nothing's there to fix? That's what I want to know. If there's no body left, there are no nanites left, so the Porter just... rematerializes you? Plops down a backup file? If there's too much damage to fix, what exactly happens?

[It's all asked in a very matter-of-fact, academic tone. Clara could maybe use a lecture on morbidity from her past self.]

Comments

[oddbod]

Tall fellow, grey hair, looks like he might have been an angry owl in a past life, what with those brows. Take up all complains about me with him.

[reek]

You must mean the half mad man.

[ I N T E R E S T I N G ]

No wonder you've taken up telling such ridiculous lies.

[oddbod]

Nah, the lies are all me. He's my better half.

[Oh, how things have changed.]

[reek]

[ A significant pause. ]

Better in what regard?

[ He'll take a liar over a nutter any day. He is a liar, but at least he has his wits about him. ]

[oddbod]

[A brief, thoughtful pause.]

I'm sure there's something. Better at computers, maybe. Ordering at restaurants? Driving a car?

[reek]

You don't believe he's better at all, do you?

[oddbod]

Honestly, we're both terrible.

[reek]

[ Someone who admits to their faults. How refreshing. Theon could take a leaf out of your book, Clara. ]

At least you seem to be somewhat sane. That's more than I can say for him.