The Tondu Revolution

Inspired by this tweet and this tweet along with also my own.

Written in about an hour or so.

If this were a Third Doctor era story I imagine it would have a working title of The Spam Mines of Tondu. But would end up with a title like The Tondu Revolution.

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Jo Grant walked into the Doctor’s office to see the door to the TARDIS opening and the noise of the Doctor’s singing coming from within.
“Doctor?” Jo called, not wanting to intrude in the Doctor’s space.
“In here Jo, come in,” the Doctor called, his voice beckoning her to enter the time machine.
“Doctor, what is it?” She asked as she walked into the bigger space within.
The Doctor was moving around the console adjusting settings and doing whatever it was he did when he was messing around with the console. “Ah Jo, good, thought you’d like to pop along with me.”
“Pop? Doctor I thought you said there was months of work to be done before you could use the new circuits the Time Lords gave you after Omega and all that anti-matter stuff?” Jo asked and looked from the Doctor to the doors that remained open.
The Doctor beamed at her as he flicked a switch and with an other world whirr the TARDIS doors closed firmly. “Just a test flight Jo, a quick trip to Kabel Black and back.”
“Kabel Black?” Jo furrowed her brow at the Doctor. “That doesn’t sound like a planet name,” she paused and then added. “Not that I’ve been to that many planets.”
The Doctor shook his head. “Ah, well, it’s not, that’s not its proper name, but it was named ‘Boulder’ and then in the Futura wars it was decided that...” he trailed off and grinned. “I wouldn’t have known that before, when I was first trapped on Earth.”
Jo put her hands on her hips and looked at the Doctor. “This isn’t going to be a dangerous trip Doctor, the Brigadier wants my latest report and Mike Yates-“
The Doctor cut her off. “Mike Yates is a captain in UNIT Jo, he can take care of himself while we pop over to Kabel Black for a spot of cheese,” the Doctor explained as he threw some levers and the central part of the console began to move.
Jo looked at the Doctor. “So we’re going to this planet so you can pick up some cheese, oh Doctor, can’t you just pop round to Tesco’s like anyone else?”
“But Jo,” the Doctor smiled at her. “I’m not just anyone else.”

--//

Inside a well maintained building a blue box wheezed and groaned its way into reality and a moment later two people stepped out of the box.
“Ah, oh,” the Doctor said as he looked around.
“This doesn’t look like the local shops Doctor,” Jo looked back to the TARDIS and then around it. “The TARDIS has gone wrong again hasn’t it Doctor?”
“It hasn’t gone wrong Jo, it’s been a long time since the old girl flew under her own control, this is a perfectly safe part of the local space time to be in,” he explained as he went through the papers on a nearby desk.
“We’re still in the same group, as long as we’re not in the Helvetica Contingent...oh no,” the Doctor suddenly said as his eyes settled on the well made minimalist furniture.
“What is it Doctor?” Jo asked, knowing the Doctor’s tone, she looked back to make sure the TARDIS hadn’t been snatched away from them.
“We’ve missed,” he paused and continued with a tone of dread. “We’re on Tondu Jo.”
“What’s Tondu?” Jo asked looking around the office they were in. “It’s so space age funky! Is this Tondu furniture?”
It was then that all the lights snapped off, Jo resisted the urge to shout in surprise, she’d been with the Doctor long enough to know that lights snapping off didn’t herald the beginning of deadly danger.
“Don’t worry Jo,” the Doctor had withdrawn a small torch from his pocket. “It’s just Tondu’s Spam miners striking affecting the power supplies, come on, we should have a look around,” the Doctor said not giving the TARDIS a second look as he walked through the door.
“Should we?” Jo asked the now empty room and took off on a run to catch the Doctor.
“...it’s not an awful planet Tondu,” the Doctor had been saying, to himself, or maybe he assumed she had been walking with him.
“And they mine Spam Doctor? Urgh, tinned meat, how do they mine it?” Jo asked recalling her parents talking about it as a staple post-war dish.
The Doctor shook his head. “Separated Phased Amplitude Miasma. SPAM, it’s used as a fuel in much of this galaxy.”
“Spam is petrol?” Jo asked with a wrinkle of her nose.
The Doctor nodded. “Exactly, when it’s refined it becomes a useful gelatine-like fuel for those within the-“
“Hang on, you’re the one always going on about fossil fuels on Earth Doctor, isn’t this the same thing, aren’t these people also using Spam fuel?” Jo challenged and smiled as the Doctor rubbed his neck in thought.
“Well, it’s not that simple, after Tondu left the Galactic Union its exports became taxed differently,” the Doctor paused as the lights around them flickered back on. “they didn’t have much else to sell.”
“Nothing but Spam?” Jo asked.
“They make a decent white wine in the hills and they once excellent in architecture, rumour had it that the-“ the Doctor didn’t get to finish as the door at the end of the corridor they were walking along burst open.
“Stay where you are, who are you!” Shouted someone.
Jo couldn’t see who they were but the air from the outside world wafted in, it smelt...she wasn’t sure, but not like Spam, she would always know that fatty, vaguely spiced pig meat smell.
The Doctor was explaining to the people confronting them that they were just visitors, looking for a bit of wine and cheese.
Jo fancied she wouldn’t mind some wine, even if if was barely 10 in the morning on Earth. The smell from outside was intensifying, it was musty and dry, but she couldn’t identify what it was.

-/

Jo wriggled in the handcuffs, except they weren’t they were an ‘elastised polymer chain’ according to the Doctor, made from the Tondu’s Spam by-products. They were being lead out from the Tondu’s Chief Ministry of Politics, that was where the TARDIS had landed and to a holding facility, pending a trial.
“This is no way to treat prisoners. You might have left the Galactic Union but you still should be abiding by their laws,” the Doctor was protesting. His shoulders was stretched back, as were hers by the angle and tightness of the Spam restraints.
“No, we don’t that’s why we left the GU, so we didn’t have to listen to you sympathisers,” said one of the guards.
Jo was about to retort that they weren’t sympathisers, she didn’t even know who they were meant to be sympathising with, but just as she was about to open her mouth the person leading them was enveloped in a mauve and chartreuse glow.
“Stunned, come on Jo,” the Doctor muttered into her ear and took off at a run, far faster than she was able to, especially with her hands tied in such and awkward way.
“Doctor, wait...” she tried to say as she ran over the cobbled streets, then, as the Doctor was shouting something she lost her footing and tried to put her hands out to stop the streets coming up to hit her head....

-/

The world swam back into foggy reality, Jo realised that she was alive and her hands were unbound and she was sat in a comfortable sofa.
“Here, Jo, the Doctor said you’d like a cup of...tea?” A kindly voice offered her a mug of what looked and smelt like black tea.
“Thank you...” Jo trailed off as she looked up at the young man with intense golden eyes.
“The Doctor’s with the rest of the Spam Resistance,” the young man said gesturing to a small screen that was propped up beside her. It looked like a television but was as thin as a magazine.
“How hard did I hit my head?” Jo reached up, but her head felt fine.
“Only a few hours, the Doctor said you should rest, he’s helping us with the rolling blackouts,” the golden eyed young man said and then took a seat opposite explaining what the Doctor had done.

Jo had to admit, that the Doctor worked fast, in barely three hours he’d met the Spam Resistance who were convinced they were Galactic Union negotiators working with the Kabel Black Initiative. Now they were escalating the power crisis and halting the Spam mining and exports. Within the next few hours the government should surrender and...
“Ah, Jo, Nic old chap you should be able to meet up with the others now,”
The younger man Nic nodded and smiled gently at her. “I’ll leave you two together.”
“Ah, tea, thank you Jo, very kind,” the Doctor took her half drunk tea swallowing it on one mouthful.
“Doctor? How can you have caused a revolution in two hours?”
The Doctor beamed at her. “Two and a half Jo, plus planning.”
“Do they really think we’re Galactic Union representatives?” She asked in a low tone.
“Best not mention that bit Jo, though I have tried to dissuade them of that assumption,” the Doctor explained carefully.
Jo sighed. “Now what?”
“Now we just watch them do it themselves, they’ve promised us a very nice case of wine for our troubles,” the Doctor said looking off into the middle distance for a moment.
“And that’s it Doctor? We just sit and wait for them to fight?” Jo asked, it felt a little bit...simple.
The Doctor leaned back. “Jo, this is their planet, occasionally all it needs is a little push, the Spam miners have been protesting for years now since Tondu exiting the Galactic Union. Spam and their architectural exports have been the only thing keeping their planet from falling completely into recession.”
There was a thud and a rumble outside and the lights went off.
Even through the gloom Jo could see the Doctor beaming. “It begins.”

-/

The Doctor was wheeling what looked like several cases of odd oblong-shaped bottles into the TARDIS.
Jo followed and wondered. “Doctor, is this what happens when you drop around for a bottle of Spumante?”
The Doctor raised his eyebrow. “Spumante?”
“Or Rosé, I don’t mind,” Jo offered.
“Oh, Jo, no. Not every planet needs to be over thrown. The Spam miners just needed a push,” the Doctor offered as he closed the TARDIS doors.
“What now Doctor?” Jo asked as the Doctor started moving around the console.
“Now Jo?” He asked.
“Are we going back to UNIT HQ?” Jo asked.
The Doctor paused in his movement and looked to her. “Well, we never did get that cheese.”
“And we do have all that wine,” Jo said with a smile.

--//

Notes:

I don’t think I’ve got the Third Doctor’s voice exactly right, I might go back at some point and edit it to make it a bit more Third Doctor-y. If I were writing it for anything other than a challenge I would go and re-watch some Third Doctor-era stories to get Pertwee's voice into my head to write him properly

Also, my muse sort of fizzled about half way through, and I found myself not really wanting to write a whole revolution so I decided to knock Jo out and rush everything along a bit faster.

Melbourne Social Writers' Group - Dialogue Challenge

As mentioned in a previous post there's a social writers' group that I attend, this is the outcome of one of the writing challenges/games.

Parameters: Story had to start with the piece of dialogue “You did what?”, be made up of primarily dialogue and for extra challenge not use the word “said”.

In jotting down ideas to start writing this I wrote out a few key words / ideas to give myself something to start with these were; cake, politics, cane sugar, oven, import/export and genocide.

As I wrote I decided to try and make genocide funny. Not in a way that devalues it as a concept, but to try and bring humour to it without going down an expected path with the subject.

I think, taking a second look at it, it almost works. There’s a few bits here and there that don’t work and didn’t go in the way I was intending and as one of the people who attended you can see where I was going with it. It’s a little too much not subtle, but for 15 minutes work I don’t think it’s too bad.

--//

"You did what?"
"I don't think it's a big deal, it's not something amazingly complicated." She complained of the situation.
"You don't think this is a big deal, we're surrounded by cake and the UN is making the suggestion of rights violations." He exclaimed to the woman who was looking around the space with a mixture of annoyance and impatience.
"Who we should really be blaming is the cane sugar lobby, they're why we're here in the first place. We shouldn't be worried about a little bit of genocide." She mused.
Lyle watched the woman opposite him to see if she was joking. "There's nothing little about a bit of genocide!" She exclaimed.
Sarah shrugged. "It's not as though it's a big deal, this is something we've been working on for a while. The genocide is just an unintended consequence of these matters."
Lyle hoped she hadn't told the press that, he asked her as much.
"Of course not. YOU haven't prepared a press release, that's what you're always talking about, needing to keep the press informed." Sarah paused and smiled, flicking out a finger to one of the iced cakes beside her. "But if we do, we have plenty of cake to keep them satisfied."
"Yes, let's not talk about the messy subject of genocide." Lyle commented sarcastically.
"I thought we might lead with that, it's a boon for the economy that we've managed to do this when everyone else has failed." She argued. "I don't know why you're up set about this Lyle, I've done something, that's better than most of the politicians you've managed in the past."
"Yes." He paused. "Lead with that, not the genocide." He felt like he needed a drink. But the closest that was around in this space was some sugar cane left by the growers' federation.
"So, now I'm writing my press release, instead of you; my press officer, Lyle, what is the matter? It's like you've never wanted to commit genocide before. Think of all the possibilities if we managed to do this with other problems." She said looking around frowning. "This is the problem, they take all the chairs with them when they leave."
"You think that's the biggest problem, we're casually standing around surrounded by cakes talking about genocide."
"The great sugar cane grower’s federation bake off was the crowning achievement of the mass destruction that we achieved. "
"'Mass destruction', that's what you're calling it?" Lyle was almost hysterical.
"You sound distressed."
"I'm just trying to work out how to sell this to the press. Is there any alcohol in this kitchen?" He wondered, pausing to look around. "Hang on you said 'mass destruction'."
Sarah raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes."
"What about this genocide?"
"I thought genocide sounded better, punchier than 'mass destruction', that's rather clinical."
"But.” Lyle felt himself relax as the hysteria passed into annoyance. "Mass destruction is the code phrase for our cane toad eradication service." The rage was now building in his mind. "And you wanted to call it a genocide?!"

Melbourne Social Writers' Group

As mentioned in my Daleks films at the Astor blog I’ve been trying to get out and about and socialise a little more after everything that’s been going on in my life. Meetup.com is part of that throwing oneself out into the world sort of thing as I’m really not a bar / club person. Well, I haven’t been for a really long time, so it may be that it becomes one of those things that I do do. Except I’m not a huge drinker, don’t like clubbing and generally find it all a little bit uncomfortable.

The Melbourne Social Writers Group is a group that meets weekly and monthly, I don’t go to the weekly meets because I can’t be arsed going up into the city on a weekday just for a meetup like that. The monthly ones I do go to. Well, I’ve been to for the past two months.

At the meetups there’s eating, chatting and then some writing games. Three to be precise. Game 1 is usually a half hour writing game where the organiser gives us a set of objects and or possibly a scenario plus a few objects and then we’ve got to write. 
Game 2 is a shorter game of around 15 minutes and is a slightly more obscure game forcing you to write having an set point of view or possibly it’s a scenario created by a round table discussion each adding bits to the scenario.
Game 3 is a very quick story both in length (5 minutes) and in style, you have to write a fast paced story, again using a scenario, characters or setting that is provided.

I will probably post one or two of the stories I’ve written at these meetups in a mostly unaltered format. I’ll do some minor edits to them just to fix any spelling errors and other minor things like that. But I will hold myself back from doing any major edits or improvements for the first posting of the story so it’s there in raw form with along with the game scenario at the top.

Kevin and Tony; a dinner in Russia

A small piece of fiction inspired by ABC News - Prime Minister Kevin Rudd considers taking Opposition Leader Tony Abbott to G20 talks in Russia

“Well, isn’t this nice.” Kevin smiled over at his dining companion with whom he’d shared a plane, though they hadn’t been within the same section of the plane. Certain things needed to be kept from the man opposite.

Tony looked over the menu at the insufferable man sitting opposite him. They were within one of the hotel’s restaurant rooms, with only their personal staff near by should they be needed. A break in the G20 meetings and away from the press.

“Would you like me to order the wine Tony?” Kevin asked taking a sip of the sparkling water that had already been left on the table.

Tony glanced over at the Prime Minister who beamed back at him with that insufferable smile.
“No, thank you, I’m merely reading through this thoroughly.” The PM smiled and continued to casually gaze at his own menu.
“Of course, I didn’t mean to rush you Tony.” He was still smiling.
Tony reached into his pocket to remove his glasses, not something he usually did, but he was damned sure not going to allow the PM to choose the wine. Not for him.
The PM’s public relations team would spin any minor move he made while here.

Kevin looked over the menu, with one eye on the leader of the opposition and a small portion of his concentration on one of his assistants who was just within his vision standing in the background of the room. A PM’s work was never done, but he could allow himself a small amount of ‘down time’ to put his feet up and have a good meal. Even if that meal was with the leader of the opposition.

Kevin admitted that he had been surprised Tony had accepted and come himself, in those early days, before he’d re-established his ministry he’d thrown out a lot of things to the media. They were always wanting to strip the leaves from a gum tree like a hungry koala, he thought he’d give them something to chew on.
That Tony had agreed to come and not send Julie had been interesting in itself.
Tony still hadn’t chosen a wine, but he had decided to put on his glasses.
Kevin resisted the urge to grab the menu out of the opposition leader’s hands and make the decision for him.
Indecisiveness was his problem. Couldn’t even choose a wine.
Although there were a good range to choose from, he wondered what Tony would choose, if he could manage a decision.

--

Their orders taken and a bottle of wine sitting in an ice bucket between them Kevin mused what to discuss with Tony. This was the first of a few times they would be seen together, this time without the cameras. It had been something of an accident that they were eating together at all. But a good opportunity he thought to take and grab.
It did leave something of a problem though, speaking with the man who wanted his job.

Tony watched the PM sip the wine, which he’d chosen, the PM seemed smugly pleased with his choice.
They had sat in silence since their orders had been taken. The silence was irritating, even more so that the PM, Kevin Rudd seemed almost happy enjoying the wine he’d chosen and had made no attempt to begin a conversation.

Kevin sipped the wine, but swallowed very little, just enough to wet his lips. He had tasted the wine and it was a rather good choice made by Tony. He would, however have chose something a little less sharp, something fruity and mellow, there had been several wines fitting those descriptions. Tony it seemed had gone for something rather more different, almost opposite to what he would have chose. Kevin savoured that amusement internally and continued to watch Tony, his assistant and the room around them.

Their first course had been taken away and now once again they were sat in silence.
Kevin decided to break the prevailing silence, an act that seemed to surprise those who weren’t sitting, waiting. “It’s interesting that we don’t do this more often.” He said, wetting his lips on the wine glass again.
Tony looked at him, surprised with a little bit of contempt, it was a rather interesting mixture on the opposition leader’s face.
“Would you have anything to say if we met more often?” He challenged him.
“I don’t know Tony” He paused to smile, briefly. “This outing has been quite good. We shouldn’t let out political differences divide us. Surely we can share a drink and meal?” Kevin asked. Tony looked surprised beyond belief, at least Kevin hoped it was surprise. His assist also looked concerned.

Tony looked over at the PM who was suggesting they have more of these....these encounters. He resisted the urge to ask if the PM was quite sane, he already knew the answer the question.
“I’m sure we could share a meal” He paused. “But I am often far too busy to share a simple casual meal, something I would prefer to do with my wife, rather than you.”
He smiled and raised his drink. “Quite right Tony, we shouldn’t be wining and dining together when we’re in Canberra. We’ll put this down as a special treat. A meal together as leaders.”
Tony stared over at the PM and nodded meeting his raised glass.

--

Kevin allowed Tony to leave the restaurant first, out of which he’d rushed, not to the toilet, which by his speed could be the only other option. The first of course was the waiting press. He decided to take a more casual walk, let the press know he was ready to speak to them on serious issues, not what they had chosen for wine or which of the tasting plates of deserts they’d each had that they’d found palatable.
Tony was already talking about a slew of topics but as he walked over to another area where the press was waiting it was obvious the press still cared who was Prime Minister of Australia and who had merely dined with him.

Turning to philosophy or science

“I realised that science couldn’t answer any of the really interesting questions, so I turned to philosophy. Been searching for god ever since.” Chantilas. Red Planet.

I really love this quote, it might possibly be one of my favourite quotes from a movie. It is I admit from my favourite science fiction film, a Mars movie. But the quote delivered from a character who is a philosopher (as well as a surgeon or something) during a quiet moment in the story is just, it’s great.

I feel like it should clash with my atheistic thoughts and notions.
But I like the idea of god, not in a belief structure sort of way, but in a fictional idea sort of way.

I don’t believe in god, I think it’s frankly a silly proposition that there’s some deity that influences our actions or that we must atone to.

But in fiction I think it’s a great concept, it’s a great concept to play against other things.

Maybe not god as such, belief might be a better term for how I like it to work in fiction.

Having god or gods for that matter in fiction is a little bit of a dead end.
The Greeks and Romans had it right with their gods in their plays, poems and other fictions that they created. Those gods, the polytheistic religions from those civilisations had flawed gods that aside from being immortal had the flaws and problems of humans, they drank, they had sex, they fought and they weren’t all powerful.

Which is the problem in any fiction that’s written, you need to balance the powers of your characters and the world that they inhabit. Having people, places, things with too much power upsets that narrative. It means you can’t write a plot with super-powered elements in it because whenever there’s a problem then the all powerful thing would just come along and BANG, that’s it problem solved. There’s no problem solving process that goes along with trying to sort out a problem, it’s just fixed and then that’s it.

Then there’s free will. With god around you don’t have any.
You already start with “original sin”, whatever that is, and then spend your whole life trying to atone for this sin that’s built into you. Which suggests the lack of any free will. If you had free will then you’d have the choice not to start with the sin, or to make choices to avoid the sin implantation in the first place.
Or, alternatively if god has a plan, then why should we bother striving, why should we try and control our lives if god has planned it all?

Returning to the quote, I could simply cut out the god bit and quote it as “I realised that science couldn’t answer any of the really interesting questions, so I turned to philosophy.” But that still doesn’t make how I think any clearer. I do think that science has all the answers.
I certainly think science has the answers to the really interesting questions, or at least will have a stab at the interesting questions until someone comes along with an even better go at it. Scientists want to be challenged, with proof, not god. Though if god showed up that’d be an interesting conversation (or not).