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Coal Hill School did its best. Susan enjoyed the social aspect of it — chasing her grandfather and being chased by various threats was very exciting, but as far as “social development enabling” it was a lackluster lifestyle. The preferable course of action would have been to take her back to Gallifrey and allow her to finish her education there, but her grandfather was the master of changing the subject when she suggested it, and eventually she’d laid to rest the notions he’d go back with her. And, as he needed her with him, Susan wouldn’t go back on her own.
The children were technically around seventy or so years younger than her, the teachers were woefully inaccurate about certain subjects, and the friends she did make thought her strange for her quirks and her grandfather’s erratic behavior. Susan did not mind - it was a welcome change of pace from being imprisoned and brushes with near death. But sometimes part of her wished — the tiny, discontent part of her — that if her grandfather had insisted a human education for her, that he’d have at least have had the courtesy put her in an era not marked by scientific ignorance.
“Foreman!” Susan slowed in her walking and stopped beside the news bulletin - a bunch of fliers seeking tutors and advertising clubs. Susan never paid much attention to those. She turned with a click of her Mary Janes, a smile already in place as she was approached. “Are you going to the lecture? Mr. Chesterton told me to ask you if he didn’t find you first. Did he?”
“Lecture?” she repeated, eyebrows furrowing. Chesterton was— the science teacher, if she recalled correctly. Most of her interactions with the man had her criticizing his knowledge, so she was almost certain that he wasn’t fond of her. “No, he didn’t tell me about a lecture.”
William, who would have been a very clever student if Susan didn’t exist (though she was generous and conceded it was unfair to compare herself to human children), nodded his head towards the news bulletin to her left. “Every so often we get a guest speaker. This one’s a physics lecture.”
Susan, for her part, couldn’t understand why he kept speaking when she could read the information on the flier just as easily, but she offered him a polite smile and ‘oh’ to appease him.
The Doctor?
Susan blinked at the lecturer’s name, then turned it over to scan for another name. Just the Doctor. For an alarming moment, Susan actually contemplated the idea this was a strange and roundabout way for her grandfather to test her educationally, but he was more the type to whisk her away and get them elbows-deep into a hands-on test and claim it was a mere coincidence. Besides, he wouldn’t have the patience for a professorship at a university. She looked up back to William, who was telling her that he’d save a seat if she’d like, and she gave a quick nod.
After a moment longer checking and re-checking the flier for anymore information on the mysterious Doctor, Susan adjusted her bag and hurried to the lecture hall before it got started without her. She caught William just sitting down in the very front row in front of the podium, and she was quick to sit beside him, pulling out her notebook and pencil.
Teaching fetuses wasn't high on the Doctor's list of priorities. The administration at St. Luke's had to drag him to participate and 'give back to the community'. He thought the argument was a load of tosh. He'd given plenty to Earth over the years. He'd given lives even. The number of people who'd given as much or more were few and far between. He'd know. He's met most of them.
If he was going to have to go inspire, then he would at least be able to choose what school he visited. And naturally, he'd chosen Coal Hill. Clara - mystery that she remained - wouldn't be there yet. The Doctor knew that. But his granddaughter, Arkytior, she just might be.
He'd given a random topic title when asked of physics. Everything was physics at some level, so it was accurate enough. The universe was built on wonderful principles of mathematics and personal interactions. The Doctor tended to make up his lecture as he went along, but it related to the universe always.
Nardole didn't come to lectures at secondary schools, which was a blessing in and of itself. He might need the company and the emergency brake, but that didn't mean he didn't appreciate some space.
He entered the auditorium, half listening to the prattling man who introduced him. The Doctor had his sunglasses resting firmly on his nose, giving the crowd a grin.
"Raise of hands, how many of you are here because your teacher offered extra credit?" He waited a few minutes, then shook his head. "You're all here because of a quirk of physics and chemistry. Or metaphysics, if you prefer."If you prefer to simplify an already simplification, his wink said.
The Doctor's smile was charming though, and only grew wider when he noticed Susan in the front row.
"You're made of cells, and almost all of those cells have a copy of your DNA, the basecode that makes up you. But it's only a quarter of what you are! You're not just bits of chemicals, after all. No, it's not just what that code says. It's how it's folded! How it's interpreted. And it's what ideas you digest. What you keep in your mind. What memes even! You can't change your DNA - well, not effectively in your lifetime - but the one thing you have control over is your thoughts. You have to choose to be the sort of person you aspire to be. That you can respect. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it. It can even be fun."
Susan looked behind her at the sudden wave of students raising their hands at his question. Her first reaction was an ill-suppressed put-out sigh — why didn’t anyone appreciate learning for just the thrill of it? Her second reaction was a bright grin at his explanation. She didn’t personally think metaphysics was quite synonymous with ‘a quirk of physics and chemistry’. She was far more comfortable with the latter than the former. Philosophy was never her strong suit, no matter how many times her grandfather took her to meet Heraclitus.
She heard William’s restless shuffling next to her, the impatient tapping of his pencil against the notepad. Susan supposed that maybe not everyone was as keen to listen to evolutionary biology as she was. An evolutionary biology metaphysical pep talk. It wasn’t until she processed William’s palpable confusion beside her that she realized three things — the first being the word ‘meme’, the second being the casual nod to the future’s ability to genetically modify organisms, and the third being that this man was absolutely probably a time traveler.
And although Susan did not normally like to make wild assumptions, she did not find the probability of a time-traveler being named ‘the Doctor’ a coincidence. Now she felt just as impatient as William for this lecture to finish so she could corner him and interrogate. Subtly, though, as she was embarrassingly prone to leaping before she looked and therefore it was entirely plausible she'd accuse an innocent man of being her grandfather from the future. And she was sure that movie hadn't even come out yet.
Unable to help herself, she raised her hand, smiling widely. “Excuse me,” she said politely, “but can we really change the sort of person we are? If the oxytocin and arginine-vasopressins neuropeptides are associated with a wide range of social behaviors, like attachment and generosity, how can we humans in the 1960s override our chemistry to become better?” Susan asked. “You could change how you react outwardly easily, but that’s insincere — and it doesn’t really change who you are, would it? Just how others perceive you.”
The Doctor was excellent at pretending his focus wasn't directed to just one person in particular, when he cared to do so. This wasn't one of those times. Particularly not when Susan was making it so easy for him by engaging in a nice little scientific debate. Yes, there had been a time when he cared about anachronisms. He was long past the follies of such youth. Time would out regardless.
So he'd accepted her hand and nodded for her to speak, smiling in just as much delight as she as he heard out his granddaughter's suppositions. She had fair points, he'd agree, but in this instance he disagreed.
"Now, that's certainly a fair point. This era may not be fully qualified to make every change, certainly not on a direct chemical basis. But there are things that can be done. Cognitive Behavior Therapy, for instance, is a perfectly valid way to teach yourself different mechanisms for interacting with the world. Compassion meditation is something I'd highly recommend." Primarily because of K'anpo, of course, but it did actually help as well. "In less than a decade, humans will be on the moon. Humanity can accomplish amazing, wonderful things. They can make themselves better," the Doctor cast a glance around the room, measuring each child before concluding. "If they decide to do so. If they agree it is worth the effort to become a person worth admiration, despite the effort involved. Change, as they say, must come from within."
He had a fair point about behavior therapy — it wasn’t exactly effective when coming to personality disorders, and its efficacy for somatic disorders and anger issues were moderate at best, but Susan supposed that humans had to take what they could get at times like this. But was that really becoming a better person or just imitating one? Was there a difference between those options? Susan let her chin rest on her hand, looking contemplatively up at him as he began speaking to the classroom as a whole. A smile tugged at her lips as he talked about humanity and what they could, and would, accomplish.
Susan wouldn’t say she was the only one interested, but certainly William hadn’t come to listen to the Doctor’s claims about the human race and its triumphs. As he left, Susan turned her attention back to him, wondering what could have happened to the Doctor for him to change his tune about humans so drastically. Her grandfather had decided humans were an excellent substitute for Gallifreyan company, but considering Susan had a suspicion that he would trade Gallifreyan company for a bowl of tacks that didn’t mean much. He had a tendency to view humans as a little bit more intelligent than a well-trained dog, which could be simultaneously amusing and mortifying.
The Doctor observed Susan quietly, not blinking at the boy closest to her deciding to up and leave. He was curious as to her reaction more than any of the human embryos in the room. He didn't always see eye to eye with his granddaughter, not the least because of certain past mistakes. But for her, he hadn't made those mistakes yet. Maybe he wouldn't. Who knew with time, really.
“So, how do we become better?”
"Well the first step is quite simple," he said gravely. "It's also the hardest. Simple things usually are. You see, you have to discover what better actually is for yourself."
The rest of his lecture was a blur about epigenetics, the troubles of reverse psychology, and what might have been admiration or a complaint involving the Moon's lack of an atmosphere. It all made sense to him, of course, but perhaps not to the students.
Susan sat patiently — or at least patiently enough — waiting for the lecture to finish. It wasn’t anything against her grandfather’s teaching styles, even if it was erratic and tangential. But she couldn’t very well keep interrupting with her commentary as they were there to listen to him and not to her bantering back and forth with her grandfather. Finally, finally, the lecture wrapped and she sat stubbornly in her seat, waiting patiently for the students to mill out.
Once she was the last one — and she checked twice to make sure — she bounced out of her seat and was by his side in record time. “Grandfather,” she said, grinning radiantly at him. “I’m so happy to see you. You know, there were easier ways to spend time with me than going undercover at my school.”
It was possible that the Doctor was happier than usual to deliver a lecture to a secondary school. Seeing Susan's face and hearing her voice had brightened his day considerably. The Doctor's enthusiasm hadn't detracted from his speech, but it had made it a slight more disjointed than normal.
And his normal wasn't all that focused, so that definitely said something.
"My dear child," his mouth cracked open in a wide smile. "There is a difference between easy and fun. Besides, we wouldn't want my younger self causing trouble, now would we? Hm?"
Susan raised her eyebrows — her grandfather never did take the easy route, instead making things as hard as possible for himself, but she’d hesitate to call that fun. She almost decided to remind him of being chased by a golem only for him to lock it inside a synagogue for another poor sap to take care of, but it didn’t seem prudent now. There weren’t any golems here. “Grandfather,” she admonished lightly, “I’m sure it’s not just your younger self prone to causing trouble. Sometimes a spot of trouble livens the place.”
But only sometimes, and preferably when the ‘spot of trouble’ did not include the various life or death situations that her grandfather seemed to take sick amusement in tossing her into. She stood still for a moment or two before wrapping her arms around him in the tightest hug she could manage. “How much older are you?” she asked curiously, releasing him from the vice-like grasp.
"It's the spice of life," the Doctor said agreeably, pushing back his own restlessness. It was easy to do with Susan in front of him, embracing him.
He hugged her back tightly, his expression carefully indulgent. He was indulging himself, anyway.
"I've rather lost track. What do you think?" He gave Susan a brilliant smile and spun, hamming it up mostly just to see her reaction. The Doctor had precious little in the way of genuine entertainment anyway. Might as well try to entertain Susan while he was at it.
Susan took a step back, making an exaggerated thoughtful noise as she considered. She couldn’t tell — though she didn’t think he’d have hugged her back nearly as tightly if it hadn’t been a regeneration to live without her for some period of time. Though whether that was his next one, or seven regenerations down, she really didn’t have much of an idea. “I don’t know! You’re still so young and sprightly, grandfather. Age has done well for your disposition though,” she teased.
She took hold of his arm, linking their fingers together affectionately. “Are you doing anything special or did you just decide to visit me? I can let you alone if you need me to,” she said, although her tone of voice indicated that she absolutely would not leave him alone even if he begged her to. “Oooor I could help!”
Being called young was new, particularly with this face that had been compared to mountain ranges (and sunsets, mustn't forget). In a way, Susan was correct. He was the first of a whole new set of regenerations, making him comparatively young in that sense. It wasn't a sense that was normally particularly relevant, but... it was too good to see her. And the Doctor didn't want to get into the complications of when he'd last seen her from his perspective just now.
Later, perhaps, if she asked. Not now.
"I do so try to please," he said lightly, the sarcastic undertone playful rather than censuring. "No, nothing special. I've been teaching here a decade now? Maybe it's only been two years. I've really lost the hang of calendars."
The time they tracked moved so slowly. Seeing her determination, the Doctor amended.
"Well, I say nothing special. I'm rehabilitating... an old family friend. Trying to, anyway."
“It isn’t your fault,” she assured her grandfather. “They don’t have an accurate time-measuring system yet — they’ve still not even modeled the chronon!” Sometimes she wondered if this was why her grandfather had planted her education on the cusp of scientific and technological innovations; an advanced perspective made her almost fond of the humans. The same way humans are fond of their dogs after learning a trick.
Susan tilted her head curiously. “How is this rehabilitation going?” she asked. They only had a few family friends, and given her current grandfather’s distaste with interacting with his own kind she figured there was really only one family friend that he’d help rehabilitate. “What happened?”
Her defense of him was heartswarming. While the Doctor was naturally aware of the precise time it was, of how long they had been speaking, it didn't always translate well to the time measurement system of wherever he found himself. He'd been here long enough that the Doctor felt he should have adjusted.
Given how perceptive he knew Susan to be, the Doctor was also reluctant to say too much. He wanted time with her without the initial hubbub over time differentials. It wasn't as if he'd waited this long to see her at all.
It was so easy to blame the War.
"I can't tell you everything, my dear. Not because I don't trust you, you understand?" He held her gaze for a moment, hoping to convey his seriousness. This wasn't him overruling her because he saw her as a child. "That said... they're on their... third? 100th? Who knows, cycle. The rehabilitation was a condition for them being released without terminating every brain stem. It's been... a pleasant challenge, if a frustrating one."
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