First published on Facebook 28 September 2014.
For the second time in the last five years, I’ve had had a coherent dream writing myself, my actual self, into an episode of DOCTOR WHO.
The first dream made an impression on a number of you; it was the one where I conspired to get myself cast in the role, via what amounted to the only real-life circumstance where this could possibly happen – albeit only to deliver the line, “Oh no, this will never do.”
Last night I dreamed myself into an actual DOCTOR WHO episode.
The dream did not give me the same level of detail I am about to give you, but certainly not much less. The sense of it was there, as was the punchline. Wait for it.
The circumstances are that I have gotten mixed up with a Dalek invasion and have been picked up by the Tardis, where I am sternly told to stand aside and mind my own business while the Doctor and just about everybody who’s been a companion since Eccleston tried to deal with the imminent invasion of Earth. The Doctor (the Tennant Doctor) has built a huge Lego monstrosity to blow up the Dalek fleet of millions, and has tried to send the signal to the mothership control room, using Rose’s cell phone; but is appalled to exclaim, “It’s not working! They’re blocking the signal!” He attempts multiple frequencies, but the Daleks have blocked all signals but voice, and that only so they can tell him that he will be exterminated.
For the moment, he is stymied, and stewing in one of those moments of futility that is his lot, as the Daleks count down the ten seconds to Earth’s destruction.
I grab the phone out of his hand. “Hello! May I please speak to the head of the household?”
There is a pause.
“IDENTIFY YOURSELF!”
In the friendliest possible tone, I say, “This is Mr. Castro. If it’s not too much trouble, may I please speak to the head of the household?”
The Doctor tries to grab the phone from me, but Donna Noble points out: the countdown has stopped. I’m the only guy present who even seems to HAVE an idea. They should let me speak.
“EXPLAIN.”
“I believe I can offer you a once-in-a-lifetime service! Please, connect me to the head of the household.”
There is a pause.
“EXPLAIN.”
“Is this the head of the household?”
“THIS IS DALEK PRIME, THE EMPEROR OF ALL DALEKS. YOU WILL EXPLAIN THIS INTERRUPTION.”
“It would be my pleasure, sir. I hope I catch you on a fine day.”
A pause. “WE ARE DALEKS. WE ARE ABOUT TO EXTERMINATE YOUR PLANET.”
“That sounds like a fascinating project, and I wish you nothing but luck in your endeavors. But I believe I can offer you a service that will only enhance your chances of victory.”
“EXPLAIN.”
“I represent the Pleiades Insurance Company and I’m calling to offer your fleet an introductory membership in a brand new protection offered by my firm.”
“WE ARE DALEKS. WE HAVE NO NEED OF PROTECTION.”
“I’m certain you believe that, sir, but my records show that your race has several times been reduced to the very brink of extinction, at times plummeting from a population of billions to only one or two individuals. Surely you must agree that it’s always best to be prepared for all eventualities.”
“WE ARE ONLY SECONDS FROM VICTORY.”
“You have been only seconds from victory, multiple times. It has always left you bereft, when you proved unprepared for sudden changes in your fortunes. Indeed, it’s fair to say that being only seconds from victory has long been your most precarious position. Granted, you’ve been able to recoup your fortunes on multiple occasions, but are you certain that you want to resume your countdown to three, and two, and even to the dreaded one, when all your past experience has established those as the occasions of the most catastrophic reverses of your species?”
“WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST?”
“For a very small fee, my company is willing to underwrite the substantial risk of this venture by assuring the total resurrection of your species following any annihilation caused by last-minute reversal.”
“YOU CANNOT HAVE THIS POWER.”
“The Pleiades Insurance Company not only does have this power, but is able to document that it has this power and is willing to present you with all the proof in a helpful and entertaining video.”
“YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!”
“If that is what you believe, then by all means press the button. But can you afford the risk?”
“….YOU HAVE THE PROOF IN A VIDEO?”
“Available in a wide variety of formats. I am absolutely certain that once you see what the Pleiades Insurance Company can do, you will sign up for our service right away, and tell your friends.”
“WE ARE DALEKS! WE HAVE NO FRIENDS!”
“Not even if we offer a substantial discount for referrals?”
“…”
“Mister Dalek Prime, I wish you to notice that I am not asking you to sign a contract now. I am only asking you to take a look at my proposal, and then come back to me with any questions you might have. Is that acceptable?”
“THIS IS ACCEPTABLE. WE WILL PERMIT YOUR TRANSMISSION.”
“Thank you, sir. I am certain that you will not regret this.”
The jamming system is switched off. I say, “Now.”
The Doctor presses his doodad. A wave of fire engulfs the entire Dalek fleet. They all blow up, all the way from near Earth orbit to the moons of Neptune. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. They are all gone. They all die.
The sheer pandemonium that follows aboard the Tardis ends with the Doctor, realizing that he has one more mystery still left to solve, walking slowly toward me, while the rest of the cast hangs back in trepidation.
“Hello,” I say. “I’m the Telemarketer.”
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