The Doctor’s standing on a rooftop. Around him in the world; an urban metropolis – different, iconic landmarks; the Shard, the Chrysler Building, the Burj Khalifa, all in the same city. There’s tranquillity to the air but the vibrancy of the city is still felt high up. He is thinking to himself. He is anxious, but he is not sure what of. He is philosophical; immersed in incoherent thoughts. He holds out his arms, embracing the powerful breeze. The Doctor starts to turn around to be confronted by a young man. The man is handsome – a cunning countenance; small, sceptical eyes and a scheming smile. The man is dressed in a black suit – his formality analogous to the Doctor, but contrasting to the Doctor’s white, virtuous attire. “You’re thinking, Doctor,” says the man. He steps closer. “What are you thinking about?” The Doctor turns around. He looks to the ground. He is unable to face the man; unable to confront his demons. He replies wittily, his tone dry. “Don’t you know?” “I know,” answers the man. The Doctor glances at him, briefly – he is smiling teasingly. He catches the Doctor’s eye. The Doctor turns away. “I wanted to hear it,” continues the man… “I wanted to hear it from you.” “I’m thinking about myself,” responds the Doctor. “A testament to your ego.” “A testament to my regret.” “What regret?” “Don’t you know?” The man follows the Doctor’s playful repetition. “I wanted to hear it from you.” “I don’t need the world.” The Doctor moves closer to the edge and gazes out at the city – at the lights, the motion; the life. “The world doesn’t need me. There were days when I was called a necessary be in. Now I’m just a parasite. I feed on those seeking guidance; those who are vulnerable, impressionable. It’s a fact of my existence.” “Yes, that’s right…” The man approaches the Doctor further. He bears an overwhelming odour; a passionate scent of aftershave – sharp, engulfing. The Doctor takes it in, closing his eyes. He pushes his chest forward – breathes out; opens his eyes again. The environment has changed. He is now on a hill in the countryside. He stands alone with the man. The sun is setting. It casts an orange hue over the grassy landscape. The man rests his head on the Doctor’s shoulder seductively. He reaches out; interlinks his hand in the Doctor’s. The Doctor feels it – it is cold, bony. He pulls away. The man gently releases his grip. “Do you see now?” The Doctor moves away from the man. He begins walking down the hill. He can see a village in the distance; he becomes submerged in the birdsong. “I see a community,” he answers. “Is that what you mean?” “Union?” The man does not approach the Doctor. He stays back, giving him space, almost respectfully. “It’s a good guess; I’ll give you that. The system of incorporating everyone and anyone – an all-inclusive love. You think you could never be a part of that. And you are right – but that is digression. Would you like to know why I’ve brought you here?” He pauses. There is no wind this time – just stillness. Even the birdsong has ceased. “A spaceman came travelling on his ship from afar. T’was light-years of time since his mission did start. Over a village he halted his craft, and it hung in the sky like a star. Just like a star…” “Of course.” The Doctor realises. He looks out at the village; standing upright in an attempt to uphold his dignity. But he slacks. He feels a lump in his throat. His eyes are red with tears. He stands away from the man and collects himself. “Cinis Cineris. It was… a village.” He winces at the memory. “Was?” asks the man, innocently. “What happened to it?” The Doctor shakes his head sombrely. “It was destroyed. I… I couldn’t save it.” “Like you couldn’t save all those other worlds, Doctor? It seems to me that you are no saviour – you are a tempest. Seen in the distance; an omen of doom. The devourer.” The Doctor raises his voice. “I don’t devour.” “You devour hope,” counters the man. “And so the story continues. The strange spoke – he said do not fear; I come from a planet a long way from here. And suddenly the sweetest music filled the air…” ‘Silent Night’ beings playing. It can be heard all around. The heavens open up and snow falls through the sky. The Doctor opens up his palm and extends it. He feels the snow. It melts in his hand. “Christmas,” he mutters. “What else?” The man nods. “A time of hope.” The Doctor interjects. “Fruitless hope.” “That’s open to debate.” The Doctor walks back up the hill. He looks up uncertainly at the man, but fixes his gaze. He has overcome his apprehensions. “Who are you?” he asks. “Cinis Cineris.” The man shakes his head forlornly. “It was Latin – meaning ashes; embers.” The Doctor stares back at the man agape. He cannot believe his ears. “Why are you showing me this?” “Don’t you know?” The man chuckles, relishing in his mind games. “I know exactly who you are,” retorts the Doctor. “A man who I both hate and trust more than anyone else in the entire universe.” “Very good.” The man stretches out his arms and the darkness on his clothes fade to reveal a white identical to the Doctor’s attire. “I am your conscience. I brought you here to reaffirm your doubts. To show you what you are.” The Doctor waves his conscience away. “I’d like to think I can make my own judgements.” The man begins to distance himself from his counterpart. “As would I. But you said yourself – you have regrets. Regrets cloud reason.” “No,” says the Doctor. “Regrets embrace experience.” “Yet they negate prudence.” The man moves closer again. The Doctor continues to argue – “they affirm theory. They disclose the truth. They are what they are.” “There’s no winning with you, is there?” The Doctor does not need to think about his answer. “No,” he replies darkly. “Then perhaps that is what I have taught you. Destiny is no means to an end, but it does not deny hope. What do you have?” “Only reality.” The dream begins to fade around the Doctor. He smiles at his conscience. He begins to realise what it is trying to tell him. “What is reality?” “Cinis Cineris… all the worlds I couldn’t save…” “What else, Doctor?” “Christmas. Community. Regret… but…” “Space?” “Yes… space. Space for hope.” “I am only your demon because that is how you perceive me. Only your perception dictates who you are. Your journey is not over yet. You have no destination – but you must let your destination find itself…” “I must make my own judgement.” “Exactly. There is no advantage in regret.”