Memoirs of a Timelord Read Free

intensive training.  You are but a raw lump of clay yet to be worked or molded."
           "You try molding any of my parts and I'll punch you so hard you'll look like a Picasso." I threatened, holding up a fist.  My Dad taught me how to punch when I was seven, so I knew I could rattle his teeth.  Then the real question occurred to me; "How many years?"
           "By your calendar, a century or two, usually towards the latter." He shrugged as if it were inconsequential.
           "Two hundred years?" It felt like I'd been punched in the gut.
           "Pffft" He dismissed it casually. "I have shoes older than that.  These in fact." He pretended to look down at his feet.
           "Look, I just wanna go home to my little girl, that's all.  The job offer is very nice, but I'd like to go home now." I tried to be polite in my refusal, but I was distracted by the laughing in my head.  The whispers in the back of my mind seemed almost amused at my choice, as if they had heard it a thousand times before me.
           "This career opportunity, this profession of ours, our calling, it is the only path home for you.  Only a trained Timelord could find their way to Earth from here.  Trust me when I say, you are unimaginably far from where you were just an hour ago." Nodding, his assertion was backed up by a chorus of voices in the back of my mind.  They'd never been wrong, and right now they were telling me this guy was on the level, however strange he seemed.
           "I can't wait two hundred years to see my daughter.  No way in hell. Tell ya what, you bring here here, and I'll do this job of yours, whatever in the hell it is." I tried to negotiate. 
           "As I said earlier, she has to live out her life, and experience her own natural death, just as you did.  It is the DuNai way.  To rob her of her own death experience would be contra to our ideals.  This is one of our core philosophies." He paused briefly, as if to segregate his thoughts.  "Finding your way home is considered to be a rite of passage among Temporal Editors.  It is essentially your final exam.  Yes, there will be many other challenges along the path of your training, but a Timelord truly proves they have made the grade by finding home.  How fast you get there is entirely up to you."
           "And if I don't take the job?" I had a feeling I knew the answer already.
           "You were harvested from your death bed, and that is where I would return you." His smile had faded, leaving only a dour look.  It was easy to see that he was not kidding; if he had the power to revive me from the dead then he prolly had the power to put me back, and that sweat-soaked bed was the last place I ever wanted to be again.
             "So I don't really have a choice in the matter, do I?" My voice had a sour tone to it as I felt a little boxed in.
           "Actually you have two choices, but only one of them makes any sense at all.  The idea of passing up an opportunity like this would be beyond ludicrous.  Jenna, what I am offering you here now is the most fascinating work imaginable.  Regardless of what you have done for a living in the past, everything you know will pale in comparison to what awaits you behind door number one." As if to illustrate his point, the old guy gracefully opened the nearest portal.
           Stepping through the door, I was amazed to find myself standing on the surface of a rocky little moon.  There were micro-craters and great big craters everywhere I looked.  But the really amazing thing was above me: the solar system illuminated by the emission nebula in the distance.  It felt like my breath had been taken away from me, which it actually had.  At the time I didn't know it, but the Boss had changed me to an anaerobic physiology so I could survive in this airless environment.  I was so green that I didn't even notice the morphic change wash over me.  I just thought it was a chilly breeze as I