Imran gave me the idea. Blame him.

TTR: Golden Agers
by Daibhid Ceannaideach

Roz and Chris were sitting in This Time Round, when Benny rushed in. "You are
not going to *believe* what they've just built opposite the pub!" she

Roz blinked. "Hello, Roz. Oh, hello, Bernice, you seem to be excited about
something. Yes, you're not going to believe what they've built opposite the
pub. Well, since the conversation started so naturally and non-abruptly, why
don't you tell me?"

"It must be serious." commented Chris. "She's been in a pub for almost a
minute, and she hasn't ordered anything."

Benny ignored the needling. "It's a retirement home!" she gasped.

The Ajudicators failed to react with shock and amazement.

"A retirement home?" said Roz, flatly. "And this is a matter of grave
importance because..?"

"Just think about it. Remember how this place works. Remember Look Who's
Talking, and HG Wells High, and Newman Primary."

They thought about it.

"Goddess on a glider." was Roz's considered opinion.

* * * *

There it was. A large, airy building, some distance away from the road, with a
brass plaque on the gates reading. "DUNVWORPIN: The Retirement Village Outside
Continuity". Chris, Roz, Benny and Ace stared at it.

"We don't *know* it's going to work the same way as the education system." said
Chris hopefully.

"But it will." muttered Roz.

"Well, yes."

An efficient looking woman in a nurse's uniform came out of the building.
"Hello, I'm the Matron. Can I help you?"

They knew better than to ask for a name. "We were wondering if we might have a
look round." said Chris. "It's for, um..."

"It's for my uncle." said Benny. "We want to see if he'd like it here."

"I'll have to ask the Manager." said the Matron, and disappeared back inside.

The Manager, when he came out, was a man who oozed insincerity. He also looked
oddly familiar.

"A pleasure to meet you." he said. "I'm always delighted to welcome new guests.
How much were you thinking of spending?" He caught himself. "Not that that's
important. The important thing is maintaining a good quality of life for your
uncle. Let me show you around. There's a lot of different wings in the
residential area, but I think you'd like Question-Mark Court. It's just this
way, past The Pavillion and Logophilia Esplanade."

The companions looked at each other. "Yes." said Roz eventually. "I think
that's *exactly* where we'd like to see."

* * * *

As they headed to Question-Mark Court, Chris hissed, "I've just figured out thy
the Manager looks familiar. He's the dead image of that guy we met when the
Doctor took us to Cambridge. You know, the one who looked nervous when the
Doctor offered to lend him a book? His name was Chris as well, that's why I
remember him."

"Interesting." Benny replied. "I daresay there's a reason for that, but I'm
beggered if I know what."

They looked round. It seemed to be a perfectly ordinary old folks home. The
various elderly clientele wandering around the place didn't seem to be anyone
they knew. "See? We were worrying about nothing." said Chris.

Ace looked at him. "Chris, the place is called Dunvworpin."

"Could be a coincidence."

Roz stared down the corridor. "And then again..."

A tall man, possibly in his sixties, was walking past them. His clothing was
the same pure white as his hair. It was, in fact, the shabby dress uniform that
retired Ajudicators usually wore out of habit, pride or lack of alternatives.
Chris associated it with his father, but this wasn't his father.

"Ah, Mr Cwej." oozed the Manager. "How are you, Christopher? Are you going to
the lunchroom?"

"Well, yeah, what with it being lunchtime." the elder Chris replied, with what
anyone with half a braincell would have recognised as mild, but deliberate,

"Good, good." said the Manager, proving he didn't have half a braincell, or
never listened to the residents, or both.

"Ah, and you're me, right?" Chris froze as his counterpart fixed clear blue
eyes on him. "You should never have beppled those teeth, boy. Even after the
Doctor fixed them they were never the same again. I've got dentures now thanks
to you." He scowled then suddenly broke into a grin. "Never mind, eh? After
all, you've still got your youth. For the moment." And with that, he went on
his way to the lunchroom, Chris staring after him.

"If you'll just follow me..." said the Manager. He led them past a room from
which a voice was saying "Of course, that was before I'd met Jason. Did I tell
you about Jason? I married him, you know. It didn't work out, he wanted to rule
the Land of Fiction. No, I think I'm getting a bit muddled there. I *thought*
I'd written this all down in my diaries, but it's so confusing..."

As they passed, the Matron came out of the room saying, in a blatantly
automatic manner, "Yes, very interesting, dear." Looking past the tour group,
she called out, "Miss Forrester! Roslyn!" A dignified-looking woman at the end
of the corridor, whose light grey hair contrasted sharply with her dark skin,
made a great show of not having heard anything. "Roslyn, dear!" the Matron
continued, catching up with her. "You've forgotten your stick, now haven't

The elder Roz snapped, "I haven't forgotten my stick. I've chosen to leave my
blasted stick. And if you call me Roslyn once more I'll stick my stick where
you'd rather I didn't stick it!"

The Matron stared at her for a second, then said "Well!" and rushed off. Elder
Roz smiled grimly to herself, then went back for her stick.

"Well, some people clearly don't change." Benny commented. "It's certainly
better than knowing you'll end up as Old Indy from the TV series."

"I don't think you will." said Chris, "I mean, these aren't our future selves,
any more than the kids at Look Who's Talking are our younger selves. They're, I
don't know, alternates. Side effects of being outside continuity. Besides,
there can't be an elderly Roz, really..."

"How very tactful of you to point that out, Ajudicator Cwej." snapped Roz.

"Sorry. But you know what I mean."

"Er, guys..." said Benny

"Yes, I just think there's better ways of putting it than 'Besides my partner
here's not going to get old, on account of being dead in continuity!'"


They turned. A small, balding man with a few tufts of white hair was sitting in
front of a chessboard. He wore a dressing-gown decorated with question marks.
Opposite him was a woman in the faded fashions of Paris in the 1880s, with a
Blue Peter badge carefully pinned to the bodice. Even knowing these weren't
really who they seemed to be, it was a bit of a shock.

"Ah, you're here." the Doctor said. "Just as I expected. I've planned it, you
know, planned it all. Everything is going as I expected. Soon the cogs will
turn, the gears will change and then..." He trailed off. After a while, he
began to snore.

The elder Ace turned to them. "So what do you think of the place?" she asked.

"Depressing." younger Ace answered honestly. "I mean, the staff are patronising
morons and, no offence, but it's a bit of a downer seeing the Professor and
everyone as stereotyped OAPs. Especially ourselves"

"You're right about the staff." replied elder Ace. "But as for us..." she
grinned, and Benny suddenly remembered a line she'd heard about growing old
being a state of mind.

"That's just what we want the morons to think. Passive resistance, right?"

The End... for now.

Summary: There's a new institution in Nameless, and the Seventh Doctor's
companions *have* to investigate.

Author's Note: Like I said, blame Imran. He's the one who had Fitz speculating
about such a place in Skool Daze. (Advanced students of logic may note that
this did not, in fact, mean I had to write the above story. Well, okay then.
Blame me.)

If anyone's wondering, the Manager and Matron are not, despite the gag about
Chris Perkins, intended to actually *be* the Idiot Baines and Jane The Drip
from "Waiting For God", just nearly identical to them.

Disclaimers: The Doctor and Ace belong to the Beeb, Benny to Big Finish, Roz
and Chris I'm not sure about, but probably still Virgin. This Time Round is
from Tyler Dion, the concept of buildings full of alternate-age DW characters
from Imran (see! It *is* his fault!) Dunvworpin is mine, and horrible things
will happen to anyone who uses it without saying so (such as feeling *really*
Now Official Absentee of EU Skiffeysoc for FOUR years
"We have no listing for the Cult of Fish in Edinburgh."
The Number 118-118, asked for the number of the Court of Session.