fandomhigh | Practical Crisis Problem Solving - Danger Shop, Tuesday, Period 3 (11am-12pm)

Upon walking through the doors of the Danger Shop, it was completely understandable if the fine students of Practical Crisis Problem Solving (which the Doctor preferred to call "Staying Out of Trouble Badly") were very confused. They were in the park. Yes, the park, the one in Fandom just outside and down the road. Fandom all around them looked normal, at least as far as the beach. Then the water and everything beyond it was all hazy. The sky was an odd shade of red too.

"Hello!" the Doctor said, looking very smart in his tweed jacket and bow tie. There were other clothes too (including pants), but those were the two articles worth mentioning. "I'm the Doctor. You are all in Staying Out of Trouble Badly." See, with the calling the class the wrong name. "Which might be on your little schedule spreadsheets as something to do with problem solving. If you're not supposed to be here," he added with a smile, "stay anyway. Have some fun. Today we're going to get the creative juices flowing." He frowned. "No, I don't like the sound of that. It sounds too...moist. Doesn't matter." He switched back on track. "You might be wondering why the sky is red. Or orange. Burnt sienna? Would we call it that? Maybe Sinopia instead. The colour, not the planet. I had a point somewhere.

The sky. Yes. The sky is red because the entire island," he turned around in a circle and pointed in every direction for emphasis, "is surrounded by a shield. You can't penetrate it and you can't transport out of it, sorry if that's your thing. The reason for this a species called the Atraxi have tracked a criminal here to the very pretty Fandom Island. Prisoner Zero is its name. If Prisoner Zero doesn't give itself up in an hour, the Atraxi are going to incinerate everything and everyone inside the shield. They don't do things by halves.

I don't expect you to find Prisoner Zero today, but before the hour is up, each of you is to come up with a plan. Brainstorm. That's what we're here for today. Brainstorm a plan. Talk to me. Talk to each other. Let's get some ideas on how to find Prisoner Zero, stop the Atraxi from burning us all to a crisp and save Fandom. Your name might be useful too, if you don't mind telling me it. Oh, and if you do have higher brain function and can understand what I'm saying, please raise your hand so I can identify anyone who doesn't and can't."

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"Fearlessly," Didi answered. "With the same love and compassion you'd show anybody else. You'd have to be firm, but if they know you're afraid of them you're at a disadvantage. Same goes if you go in already sounding angry."

She brushed her hair out of her eyes, wondering if it would be a good time to mention she was technically billions of years old, or if she should hold back on that a bit longer.

The Doctor wasn't really used to not being the oldest in the room, so it would come as a bit of a surprise to him to hear it. That was definitely not the answer he expected to come from a teenage girl.

"You seem very sure of that. You've done this before." Stating the obvious was more a hobby than anything else.

"Not this exactly." But close enough, yes, as her nod showed.

It felt like it was time to give more of an explanation, so: "I'm the incarnation of life and death for my universe. I've been around a while. Not everybody's going to be nice to my family."

"Hardly anybody if we're being honest," the Doctor replied, understanding their plight. He then repeated her own words. "The incarnation of life and death. Do you get paid overtime?"

I keep arguing for that," Didi laughed. "It's just how it works. Like, my sister Delirium can also be the embodiment of logic, my brother Destruction has the strongest drive to create ..."

She waved a hand, indicating she could go on. "I know it's a little weird. But it works for us."

For certain very broad versions of the term "working."

"Weird is a relative term. No pun intended." Maybe the pun was intended a little. "But life and death. Balance. You'd understand the Atraxi's situation then. Their most feared, most dangerous criminal could possibly slip through their fingers, if they have fingers, metaphorical fingers if they don't burn this place to the ground, but in doing so they have to commit mass murder. They're in a tough spot, but so are we and their tough spot isn't our responsibility today. Maybe we can help them with that tomorrow. Negotiation. That's your approach. Are you confident enough in your abilities to pull it off or should there be some back-up plans working in the background?"

"I think if anyone could negotiate with them, I could," Didi said. It wasn't bravado; it was genuine, quiet confidence. "But I'd like to have back-up."

She could run out of time. She could be captured. Somebody might attack while she was talking to the leader. No matter how much she wished it was different, back-up was never a bad idea.

"As a back-up, I like the suggestions about telepaths. It's the least likely to end in somebody innocent being harmed."

"Telepaths are looking, I'm assuming non-telepaths would try looking for the needle in the haystack too, and you're trying to deal with an alien force abusing their power. How do you see it working out?"

"If everybody stays calm?" Didi asked. "They could get their prisoner and get off the island with no harm done to anybody." A beat. "Well, I still wouldn't want to be the prisoner."

"I wouldn't either. It's probably the death penalty for him this time."

Practical Crisis Problem Solving - Danger Shop, Tuesday, Period 3 (11am-12pm)

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