Wilf Saves the Day
By Adrian Tullberg.
The Doctor looked around, the face of nightmares now made flesh, over and over and over.
“And you thought we had some fun with you before ...?”
The Master, now replicated six billion times, once a damaged time Lord now a single mind that could link to itself and exponentially increase it’s abilities and power. A monolithic entity just waiting for that single idea, the idle I wonder what would happen if I ... that would transform into an unstoppable mental force.
“We are going to ...”
“Blondie! You there!”
The original Master rolled his eyes, looking at Wilf, still in the isolation booth. “What is it, gramps?”
“I wanted to ask a question.”
“Sorry, no mercy, no last requests, no Rollos.”
“Can’t stand Rollos. Get stuck in my teeth.”
“What is it then?”
Wilf looked up in the air, then back at the Master. “Now, if I understand it, you’ve made everybody else on the planet, you, right?”
“Yes. I thought that was obvious. You’re one of those old people that need to have an iPod explained to them over and over, aren’t you?”
“They just don’t look like you, they have your brain, your memories, your internal organs, stuff like that.”
“Good, glad we sorted that out. Now, my question is...” Wilf raised his hand “... who’s in charge?”
The Master wondered if senility had already kicked in. Better kill him quick instead of converting him. “Me.”
“Well, if everyone else is you, you’re all that same, innit? Who’s the one who’s going to be the toff in his mansion, who’ll be in middle management, and who else is going to do all the work, the hard slog ... taking orders from everyone else?”
The other Masters were looking around, the realisation slowly germinating.
The original Master was looking around, beginning to understand the flaw in his plan (mind you, he only thought it up, half an hour ago, not taking the time to iron out flaws in his scheme like he used to do.)
The Master knew exactly what kind of bastard he was stuck with, six billion times over, on this planet.
And so did they. Each and every one of the duplicates in this room were eyeing him, and each other, in the same way he did just before he took out a weapon and stabbed/shot/blasted/shrunk someone to death.
And if the reverberations in the ether were any indication, the emerging concept was so strong it was being telepathically transmitted to every other duplicate in the world.
It was no longer a question of if, but a question of when and how painful. The Master ramped up his bio-electrical blasts, and fired.
Entirely forgotten, the Doctor rushed up to the glass booth, smile threatening to break his head in half. “Wilf! That was brilliant! Brilliant!”
There was the sound of something exploding outside. Something very large.
“What happens to the person that was before if one of those Masters dies?”
The Doctor stopped smiling, and rushed over to the Immortality Gate, hoping to reverse the Master’s lockout and trigger the reset command (the most frequent function for engineers and medical students) before the human race wiped itself out in one of the most awe inspiring civil wars in creation.
Wilf looked over at the fighting Masters, rolling his eyes.
Honestly, two incredibly advanced aliens and neither could see the bloody obvious.