Okay.

The Professor: Cave on Quadrinisberk Charlemagne 2013/12/11(Wed)18:34 No. 551573 ID: 28802c
File 138681566630.jpg - (168.89KB , 1050x742 , image.jpg )

Why is it that when we are slaves we hunger most for freedom, yet when we are freedmen and women we seek to make ourselves slaves?

You lie here, on the stone floor of some damp cave on this godforsaken planet, asking this very question of yourself and whatever forms of civilisation self-identifiable. You know that this hard, sharp and frigidly wet surface will soon serve as your deathbed. Against this knowledge and the current of your many responsibilities that plead and beg with you or command you in authoritative, self-righteous tones about the moral supremacy you cannot fail to represent, you have the audacity to be philosophical about death as it crawls up your feeble legs. You cannot laugh at her face, but you have at least enough courage to share with her a pleasantly academic conversation. An old dodger like you had it coming, no doubt, yet it still surprises you. ...'Old?' You hear yourself think. Hah! Despite the visible age that has creased your face, deafened your ears, bleached your hair, hunched your posture and dulled your eyes you are still considered quite young for your race. 'Inside every elderly person is a young person who wonders what happened.' you've once heard it said. With regret you cannot say the same applies to you for you know exactly what happened. You've committed more murders with your lying tongue than have ever a blade laid bare a pair of shoulders. You've damned numberless species to extinction, all in the name of 'reason and unanimity.' You are that blackhearted, immortal fiend they call Professor Nobody.

And you are about to breathe your last.

In this last, desperate moment of mortal horror, self hatred and tearful misery masked by contemplative repose... what do you do?

Die, I assume.

Sing a song, If you are gonna go out, might as well go out with a smile.

Try not to worry, friend, it will be over soon. Whatever's on the other side, I'm sure it will be quite nice.

Rest, friend, your time in this world is up. No need to make a fuss I guess. At least it's somewhat peaceful.

>In this last, desperate moment of mortal horror, self hatred and tearful misery masked by contemplative repose... what do you do?
Close your eyes, and smile.

hey, if it's you last moments, shouldn't you be thinking of happy times. I mean if nothing else a man should go out with a smile.

This is just a hypothesis, but if we're *immortal* then we're going to get up, stop playing at death, and look at what's next on the to-do list. Let's have none of this moping around being morbid nonsense: It's simply wasted time unless you're enjoying it.

The Professor Explains Charlemagne 2013/12/18(Wed)09:50 No. 552581 ID: 1ce34b
File 138738902067.png - (55.91KB , 407x399 , ZF7YSjT.png )

[1/2]

>>551574
>>551575
>>551645
I'd very much like to, however I'm become the slightest bit twitchy in all my years of adventure and haven't quite gotten used to the idear of relaxation. Always on the move when people are crying out for this that or the other. I honestly wish I could change.

>>551650
Yes, I suppose. Me and my associates have freed a whole people from toil and suffering at the hands of otherworldly tyrants, now it's only a matter of time before they do the same to themselves and others. We must cherish the little victories, I suppose. Before this feeble dementiac mind wonders where they've gone I ought to remind myself I've already sent them away to their homes in the VORTEX. Well, what remains of it anyway. I've programmed it to be a one-way trip, and the wreck behind me is not space worthy, much less capable to endure the howling winds of time. I don't bother devising escape, not this time.

>>551578
Ho. I'm not that good of a liar, I couldn't begin to fancy a rewarding afterlife, if such a thing even exists. I have an everlasting contempt for spirituality and religion, so I doubt I'd be welcome in my own paradise for very long. It's not like it would be the direction I'd be heading anyway.

>>551663
My frankness amuses me. I would love the opportunity to shrug of several fatal wounds and pussyfoot villainously into that blasted metal casket I call my home... but I'm afraid I've gotten a tad singed and strained my old ankle, all the way around my knee and back. It seems, until I am attended by a well endowed and certified doctor of some sort with a magical hand device, I am very much put in place. Although now is an appropriate time to examine the nature of my 'immortality', now that Death is cuddling me at my side. Admittedly, as terrifying a spectre as she is she makes an awfully playful bedmate. I wonder if she makes all the old boys feel this way.

>>552581
Can't you set your own leg? Not strong enough for it? Nor could you drag yourself to safety?

If the immortality is only metaphorical, or in some other way not applicable to this particular situation, then the first question becomes what your goals are. The second would be how you should achieve those goals with the resources and time available.
This isn't that complicated, is it?

You sound suspiciously like a particular member of another race I know.... You wouldn't happen to be able to travel through time, would you?

Remember who you hate!

...timelords god damn timelords dont you regen?