Doctor, Can I Be Your Next Companion?
Can I be your next companion? I know that your time with the Ponds has only recently ended — and if I’m heartbroken about it, I can only imagine that your two hearts feel absolutely shattered — and that you’re due to get a new über-snarky, über-adorable friend soon, but we all know that her time with you will come to a close, just as every other companion’s has.
So here’s my proposition. Let it be my turn next. I don’t mind waiting in the wings; I’m patient. Just remember my name when you’re casting about the cosmos looking for someone new to drag along on adventures. If I do say so myself, I’d make a damn fine companion.
Let’s start with the basics. First off, I’m a runner. As Donna Noble explained life with your Tenth Generation, there’s an “awful lot of running” involved. I’m in fairly good shape, so when we inevitably end up running from (or to) Daleks or Slitheens or Krillitanes or any of the other myriad of aliens we encounter, I’ll be able to keep up, no worries.
Plus, I’m pretty low maintenance. I won’t put up a fuss if we end up on some far-flung planet in a distant solar system with no running water or central heating. I live in a house without air conditioning and I grew up camping regularly, so, clearly, I’m okay with sacrificing a few of life’s daily luxuries. Added bonus: I’m a tidy eater. No crumbs in the TARDIS console, á la Amy and Rory Pond, promise.
I also like to think that, for a person my age, I’ve seen and experienced enough weird stuff to be pretty immune to culture shock. I’ve lived in two foreign countries, and the current one, Japan, provides a near-daily dose of “Wait, what the hell is that?!” So no matter where we go and what we see, I promise I won’t walk around with my mouth hanging open like some addled tourist. Even if the place has aliens with four heads that each vomit a different color of slime.
I’m a floater. As I mentioned, I’ve lived in various places that are vastly different from each other. I don’t have any roots; my nearest family member is seven thousand miles away. Putting a few millennia and light years between us won’t be that different. All I request is that we land on a planet where I can get reception to Skype my dad for five minutes every two weeks or so to assure him that I’m still alive and kicking.
On a more superficial level, I tick all the boxes your companions normally do. Young woman, mid-20s. Looking for a life of adventure. Capable of providing witty banter and/or pointed, biting criticism when necessary. Fairly attractive, if seen from the right angle and in the right light. And while I’m American, a fair amount of my friends are British, so when you drop words like ‘gutted,’ ‘kip,’ ‘bagsy,’ or ‘chuffed’ in a conversation, I won’t fall behind.
But here’s the biggest reason I want to step in as your companion. See, I’ve done a fair amount of traveling, and I hope that I never stop. Globetrotting is a pretty significant pastime of mine… but it’s not really enough. I want to planet-trot, to universe-trot, to time-trot. I don’t just want to visit the places you see pictures of in books; I want to visit the places that the books’ authors have never even heard of. I want to sit above some lonely planet with my legs hanging out of the TARDIS’s door, sipping on a cup of tea (or coffee, if possible; sorry, there are some British habits that I’m not too keen on adapting). I want to skip back in time and get up to shenanigans with Keats or Mandela or Hitchcock, though I’d be keen to head off-planet more often than not. And, if I’m honest, maybe we could also catch a Muse gig or two from before their “arena rock for the masses” era? (Look, we can’t save the universe every day, right?)
So how about it? File away my résumé in the TARDIS until you’re ready for a new companion, and then show up to whisk me away to explore the corners of the universe with you. Until then, I’ll keep listening for the “Vworp! Vworp!” of the TARDIS’s brakes. Hope to see you soon.
A | A | A
You break it to them as softly as can. They immediately beg you to stay.
As much as I appreciate someone telling me to keep my chin up when going through a hard time, I’m fairly certain I’d rather them let me punch dance out my rage in their backyard.
At their biological core, men are ruled by sexuality. They identify potential mates using their eyes first, while women take a more complicated approach.
You probably thought I was going to recommend Orange Is The New Black but I’m not.