001 - Voice

[fuckitybye]

[Prior to this, anyone near Malcom's room (level 7, room 5) will have heard him banging about in confusion for a bit; as his cabin looks like his office at No. 10, that's where he thinks he is. Then, in an attempt to page his assistant, he accidentally turns on the voice posting device and a loud Scottish voice is heard:]

—Sam? SAM? The fuck is up with putting a bed in here? This some kind of fucking joke? I can ream out that twat Nicholson just fine with him bent over my fucking desk, aye?

[Pause.]

Sam?

Oh, for fuck's sake—

[Sound of door opening. Long, stunned silence.]

What the fuck?

Comments

Private

[hopeless-hacker.livejournal.com]

I think in most cases, after you've been here for a while, you get the sense that somebody somewhere has seen you on TV or something. Confronting someone with the fact that they're 'not real' seems pointless; here and now they're as real as you are.

Private

[fuckitybye]

Right. Not like saying, "you're fucking fictional, you twat" is going to make 'em disappear, is it.

What'd you say your name was again?

Private

[hopeless-hacker.livejournal.com]

Toshiko Sato, formerly of the Torchwood Institute.

...and if you've heard of it then yes, I've already had the existential crisis.

Private

[fuckitybye]

Fucking Torchwood. Right, that made it on the zeitgeist tapes last July.

Private

[hopeless-hacker.livejournal.com]

'Zeitgeist tapes'. Let me guess, a...highlights reel of current pop culture?

Private

[fuckitybye]

Ha, you're good. Reckon I'm not surprised. Yeah, got to keep the PM and the ministers briefed on all the shit outside Whitehall or they'd still be banging on about fucking Take That.