‘Forget? Well, why not? It’s not like there’s anything to remember, is there?’ He jerked, clockwork grief, broken. Without voice, his body screamed: The universe is dead! Time and space, murdered! Stars and moons, planets, comets, put to the sword! Physics and chemistry, mathematics, geography, sent to the stake! Mother and father, friend and stranger, snug bound in entropy’s coffin! Love, dead! Fear, dead! Dogs and birds and cats and ants and books and pies and cars and lies, all dead and gone to less than dreams these long ten years! Everyone that ever lived, every thought that ever held meaning, every flower that ever cupped dew and every equation that ever brushed a portrait of truth-
Hooves struck the ground: summer storm piling close as clouds.
Somewhere inside Ian’s mind a page turned.
‘All that we have is in here-’ he stamped the ground with a child’s foot, ‘-now-’ he waved with a child’s windmill arm at the universe the TARDIS had built for us to live out our lives in. ‘There’s nothing else worth remembering anymore.’
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