Tuesday, 23 March 2010

Squids On A Plane

Today, our hero is surrounded by his mathematical colleagues, discussing his clear superiority by dint of his recent promotion.

CHUCK: Looking forward to the day someone starts dying on a plane and they have to shout “Is there a doctor on this flight?”
SPACESQUID: Yes, that’s exactly what I’m looking forward to: some poor bastard to die on a plane because elementary set theory doesn’t cover the emergency trach. I shall settle back in my seat, my hand held high, and when they approach and ask “Are you a doctor?”, I shall smile and say “Technically.”
EDENSPRESCENCE: Technically it’s the MD’s who technically are only technically doctors. Technically.
SS: I shall be sure to explain that to them as the patient breathes his last. “Your customer died for your lack of specificity”.
ED: “And my lack of training.”
SS: There are many pieces to this puzzle.
CHUCK: Well, no, actually; mainly you just killed a guy. No offence, but you’re the pretty much the worst doctor anyone could fly with ever.
SS: Not necessarily. It depends what you’re looking for. A doctor without a scrap of physiological knowledge of biological comprehension, or a genius-level organ-tinkerer who coincidentally happens to be Davros.
SS: For example.
BS: What, it’s you, Davros and a guy having a heart attack? What the Hell kind of plane is this, exactly?
SS: All I’m saying is: sure, he’ll fix you up, but you might end up mutating into a radioactive green blob driving an armoured inverted ice-cream cone.
EP: So in an ideal world they’d need to ask whether you’re a doctor, whether you specialise in medicine, and whether or not you’re Davros?
SS: Not just Davros. Doctor Mengele, Doctor Moreau…
EP: Doctor Manhattan.
SS: Him too, though it’s kind of hard to imagine you needing to quiz him about his identity.
CHUCK: Whereas Davros is notoriously hard to identify, of course.
SS: He has a brother.
EP: He does not have a brother.
SS: He has a brother. An identical twin named Gary.
BS: Named Doctor Gary.
SS: Sorry, yes; he didn’t spent all that time in Kaled medical college to be called Mr Gary Davros.
EP: Literally no-one but you knows or cares about what you’re referencing right now.
SS: All he ever wanted was to use his single withered hand for healing. “Bring the patient closer to my feeble and atrophied digits. Let me stroke their tender fleshy regions back to health.”
CHUCK: Yeah, I don’t want to fly with either of those guys.
SS: I’m saying.

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