Leekley Bible

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The Leekly Bible

Subject matter
I AM CARDINAL BORUSA… TIME LORD OF GALLIFREY

This is my official insignia, and my personal glyph. Having transcended the confines of body, I exist now amidst the crystals of the Domed City of Gallifrey, which resonate with their beautiful sounds… much like the wind chimes of the Blue Planet… the place you call Earth.

I have decreed that my adventures with the Doctor and his flying ship, the TARDIS, in our quest to find his father Ulysses the Explorer, be written down by a scribe. I have instructed him to write these chronicles in the language of the Blue Planet, in long flowing script, because I believe that is the way the Doctor prefers it. Our own hieroglyphics of Gallifrey can’t capture the real adventure of it all, our glyphs are far too precise… they are meant to convey the logic of the law, and the science of time travel, which are two proud trademarks of Gallifrey. This odd elliptical language of the Blue Planet is far more appropriate to the Doctor, who seems to prefer humor over efficiency.

The Doctor wishes the people of the Blue Planet to know of our travels… to see for themselves that these worlds we have visited are not so distant after all. Those companions who travelled with us in our own adventures can attest this… if they are believed by humankind…

TIME TRAVEL

This is the supreme gift of Rassilon, the founder of our dynasty, who, millennia ago harnessed the power of a Black Hole. This fathomless power brought to the Time Lords mastery over the fourth and fifth dimensions. We found that we could travel back in time. The Time Lords of Gallifrey monitor and record the significant events on the planets in this Galaxy and beyond, throughout space and time. They are recorded in the Matrix… as well as all of the life experiences, feelings and memories of the Time Lords, themselves. The Matrix is our record of life in the Universe, contained in the Panopticon. This is our heritage and our duty.

Until the TARDIS ships were perfected, some of our early Time Lords were lost in time, and never returned. We have found a few, by accident… but many will be travelling for an eternity. Unable to get back home to the Domed City, that jewel under glass… or to the windswept mesas and bottomless canyons of Gallifrey.

The most legendary Time Explorer was Ulysses, a hero among the citizens of Gallifrey. His fate is unknown to the general populace… but not to me. Ulysses the Explorer was my son. And, in turn, Ulysses had a son… who, in later lives, was called the Master. The Master’s ruthless ambition was to wrap himself in the Sash of Rassilon… worn only by the President of the High Council… the Sash I had worn for so long. Rather than using our immense powers for the spread of enlightenment of all races, the Master wished only to conquer and rule.

IN THIS TIME OF DANGER AND TURMOIL

The Doctor and the Master were the two greatest minds to emerge in the millennia since Rassilon. It was strange that two such towering figures were born in the same era of time, as if somehow brought forward by nature… as if by the planet itself. And as the years went by, the Doctor grew in his powers… of intellect and telepathy. After seven regenerations, he seemed to us, the Time Lords, to be the only leader capable of standing up to the Master and his followers.

However, there were those that distrusted his exuberance. The Doctor was as irrepressible as when he was a youngster. Although the Doctor was by then 800 years old, he had the body of man 30 years old… and he was still rebellious and curious, usually beyond our patience.

He would often time travel to the Blue Planet Earth and, against our strict rules and traditions, would meddle with history… interfering with the affairs of other worlds… Gallifreyan ability to regenerate. In the terms of the Blue Planet, it is both a death and a rebirth. It is very sacred and profound to us… also agonizingly painful. Regenerations are triggered in several ways… old age… mortal accident… by decree of the Time Lord Council… or by will.
 * Entry remark… I am reminded by my scribe that there may be a confusion concerning our

A regeneration produces a completely different body, chosen by the unconscious much like a dream is chosen… and it profoundly affects one’s personality and memory. I, for example, in and early regeneration, became a megalomaniac. Happily, it was a phase that passed…

HE WAS CALLED THE DOCTOR

There may be a confusion concerning the word ‘Doctor.’ On the Blue Planet, that word is used for medical advisors. The Doctor feels that medical practitioners are quite useful, like automobile mechanics, which are a group he very much admires. But on Gallifrey, a Doctor is one who has mastered all fields of knowledge.

The Doctor is also a tinker and a lover of inventions. For many years, he has escaped the clutches of intergalactic bounty hunters, monsters, and killing machines with his ingenuity and quick wits. But I am obliged to admit that the Doctor is also irascible, eccentric, and exasperating.

He is very secretive. One minute everything is going splendidly… and suddenly he will shut you out if he does not wish you to know the plan he is devising. He can be happy, even giddy, but can quickly turn dark and brooding if he has picked up some obscure hint of danger or deception. This is how a fugitive stays alive.

He seems to be unable to simply travel from point A to point B. He loves oblique tangents, and can easily be diverted from his apparent mission.

Only later do you realize he never intended to go to the first location anyway… it was all planned.

The Doctor preferred not to use force. Although he was a master of the martial arts, and usually used the force of the enemy back against the enemy. However, the truth must be stated that that he occasionally relished a good fight… He is also the most stubborn man in the Galaxy… and certainly not modest.

Here, for an example, is a journal entry from the night before the Battle of Waterloo… NAPOLEON: You seem well versed in military history, sir. Who are you?
 * July 17th, 1815… The Doctor is in the tent of Emperor Napoleon… sharing an excellent glass of brandy and trying to convince him of the necessity to protect his flanks. Napoleon has interrupted…

THE DOCTOR: I am the Doctor.

NAPOLEON: What sort of Doctor are you?

THE DOCTOR: I’m not a Doctor… I am the Doctor. The definite article, you may say…

NAPOLEON: And what are you the doctor of?

THE DOCTOR: A great many things. Temporal engineering, metaphysics, archaeology, history, quantum mechanics, astronomy, medicine… the things one must know.

NAPOLEON: I have never heard of quantum mechanics…

THE DOCTOR: It hasn’t been invented yet.

NAPOLEON: That’s very impressive…

THE DOCTOR: Well, you see I’m a genius.

NAPOLEON: Temporal engineering? Can you engineer time?

THE DOCTOR: (grins) Let’s just say that I’m a tinkerer.

Now, back to my concerns about Waterloo… As the Master has always said, the Doctor’s chief weakness is his curiosity. He can’t help meddling in the business of other worlds and cultures. THE DOCTOR: Napoleon has had too much brandy… he’s not thinking clearly.
 * Journal Entry, 4 a.m. that morning… The Doctor walks out of Napoleon’s tent, and into the TARDIS… shaking his head. I have just illuminated the crystals, and am running through the circuits.

BARUSA: It is strictly forbidden to meddle in the affairs of other races…

THE DOCTOR: (noticing my work) What are you doing?

BARUSA: I have been working on the repair of the dematerialization circuit in order to activate the chameleon circuit.

THE DOCTOR: Why are you messing with it?

BARUSA: This Type 40 you “borrowed” is a great and classical ship. Just possibly, if I can repair it, we can rid of this ridiculous exterior, this Blue Police Box.

THE DOCTOR: I like it.

BARUSA: How can I make you comprehend that a London Police Box will seem a bit out of place in a great many places in the Galaxy? … For example, outside Napoleon’s tent.

THE DOCTOR: He thinks it’s a portable out-house… he likes the idea. He’s forward thinking…

BARUSA: It belongs in the London Museum, in the section for obsolete and silly artifacts of the Victorian era.

He ignores me. The good Doctor is quite sentimental… the worst trait conceivable for any Gallifreyan. I believe he keeps his ship in the outside dimension of a Police Box just to irritate me…

THE DOCTOR: Tomorrow, forty thousand men will die, their blood draining into the grass… for a mistake he is about to make. I can stop this.

BARUSA: There are strict rules about this sort of meddling.

THE DOCTOR: (goading him) Rules are meant to be broken.

BARUSA: After almost two thousand years, I should have peace in my golden years. Instead, we have been dodging Dalek killing machines, trying to keep our scalps from ending up on Cyb lances… and here you are trying to change the entire history of civilization.

THE DOCTOR: (grinning) Things are never dull…

BARUSA: We have a quest… to find your father. Shall we get on to it?!

THE DOCTOR: (nodding) So… what are we waiting for? Power up the Crystals, Cardinal… let’s go exploring.

As the great ship vanished with a eerie whoosh, the Doctor looks back at Napoleon, standing outside his tent, staring off at the field where the Battle of Waterloo will commence in the morning… tired and worn out from endless campaigns… staring into the night and fog…

THE DOCTOR: (to himself) Forty thousand. Humans are such a mystery…

THE CHRONICLES OF DOCTOR WHO

In that time, so long ago, when I first ventured forth with the Doctor on his adventures in our Galaxy and beyond, things were not so hopeful for my world of Gallifrey as they are now. In those days, all around our fabulous Domed City, which sits like a cluster of jewels under glass, the vast mesas were ripping open, forming gigantic canyons which threatened to tear the entire city apart.

It is a mystery, even to us Time Lords, why the geological forces of our planet reflect exactly our own cumulative consciousness. We, and our tragic planet, are one and the same.

Within the Domed City, the forces of darkness, led by the Master, threatened to tip the balance of power among Time Lords. The Master’s dark dream was the domination of all life forms in our Galaxy. Like a stained liquid, his teachings had seeped into the cold logic of the bureaucrats and law makers. Our ancient wisdom has been lost.

The time came in which we were forced to decide the future of our planet. In the Panopticon, the Time Lords meet. I announced what had long been rumored, that my twelfth and final regeneration was about to happen.

These were my words, from the record… “According to our ancient custom, my heir will wear the Sash of Rassilon upon my death. The Master is brilliant, but he is cruel and ambitious. He is the perfect embodiment of our worst as a race… without feeling or affection.

It is the Doctor’s thinking which has begun to change the way we are… to turn our fate from Darkness… to save our planet. Without strong hearts, we will evolve to become like the Master. Our Gallifrey, so beautifully stark, so solemn with its quiet mesas and its harsh sun-burnt canyons, will shatter unless we turn from the Master’s dream of domination… The Doctor offers a change… he is admired for his exuberant character, his energy, and fullness of life. He and his Time Lord supporters are our only hope.

I therefore propose we break with our traditions… that the Doctor, although is an orphan from a clan that has died out, take my place as President of the Time Lords and wearer of the Sash of Rassilon upon my death…”

The Time Lords were bitterly divided… between the supporters of the Master… and the supporters of the Doctor, who offered a new vision, a revival of the classic era… of exploration, science, and peace.

The Doctor finally stood to speak. He accused the Time Lords, himself included, of dereliction of their sacred oath… which was to nourish all the races and bring harmony to the Galaxy and beyond. He said that they have ruled this Galaxy for so long that they had become the perfect bureaucrats… cold efficiency had replaced wisdom… they had lost their ears and souls.

The Time Lords were shocked and outraged. No one had ever challenged them in this way. In their indignation and fury, they exiled the Doctor forever.

The Doctor left the Domed City, and set off into the barren and inhospitable desert… The Master demanded to be given the Sash… and upon my death, it came to pass. Being of my bloodline and that of my son Ulysses the Explorer, the Master was entitled to be President. But the Doctor was always more favored by our people. For these reasons and more, the Master reserved his purest venom and hatred for him… and plotted his destruction

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