The Captain Knows My Name

Much as I resent HH for leaving me alone with that chump, I’m rather glad it’s me doing the collecting. This place is full of distractions. Give the kid who always wanted to be a pirate a metal detector, and he becomes an archaeologist. Give a TimeLord a room documenting everything in existence, and…well, they’ll become a librarian. I can just tell.

Except HH hasn’t. Yet. He’s passed out, flat on his back, looking as if he’s been witness to the unveiling of Captain Smartarse’s armpit-

-I heard that.

Yeah, yeah. Would you kindly pretend you don’t know the entire plot and just let me get on with it?

That was not your line. And yes.

Thank-you…anyway, as I was saying…he’s been reading. I imagine. Can’t see why else he’d have a book out. Bloody huge one, though. Could have been dead-lifting. And I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised by the title…although…it sure looks like we have one thing in common, at least…

…I wonder if I’m here. I don’t see why not. The captain knows my name, after all. There’s got to be something. Anything.

No.

What?

No. There is not something. Not anything.

Is this a joke? Seriously?

No. Yes. It wouldn’t have been very funny if given the title of “joke”. Which is why it wasn’t. The thing that wasn’t a joke. That is.

…I wonder why…I mean, I’m here now. HH has a goddamn companion cube’s worth of book, and he’s here. You can hear me, unfortunately, and you exist. You have a book, right?

Yes. It is very big. Much bigger than everyone else’s. I keep it somewhere safe. Very safe.

Do you know why I’m not here then? In book, that is. And if you give me anything clever, you’ll be exchanging it for something far worse than a damn lump…

I do. I know. Nothing exists on you because technically, you do not register in any given plane of existence. 

The you that did exist is dead. Or never existed in the first place. 

Technically speaking, you do not exist anywhere.

So…how did you know…my “name”…if I don’t technically exist, then?

It is not your “name”. It is your name.

Answer me. How do you know my goddamn name…?

It is written.

Written…? Written where?

In the book you see before you. Test no. 613114201514. His companion. You.

Oh great. HH gets a novel, I get a footnote. Not quite sure why I care, but still. I do care, and it’s pissed me off. I guess I rather like existing. Damnit.

I have a headache now.

You and this guy both. Guess it’s time for him to wake up, before his book relocates. I don’t suppose you have any-

Thirty-third door to the right, down the staircase, third door with a pink monkey facing to the left.

…right.

You’re welcome.

W

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