There's so much life to be found out in the universe, I don't know how the Doctor can stand Earth. *He gently tosses the lizardfly into the air and watches it flit away.* Silly fool doesn't even do anything interesting with the place. I can think of a million experiments he could try.
If I was in his place I'd try speed-evolving an acre or two, xenoforming Venus, uplifting every creature that caught my eye. What's the point of being sane, of being able to do more than destroy, if you spend your whole time fixing the mistakes of idiots?
He could create so much if he wanted to. He could act, not just react. Does it really take a villainous mindset to dream of being a god? There are so many ways the Doctor could be a glorious creator, but he just doesn't think. Whereas I think, and destroy everything I touch.
Is it wrong to have children, then? Is art wrong? Is it wrong to dream?
I know I shouldn't do it, because I make monsters. But you wouldn't make monsters, and neither would he. *He looks confused, or even lost.* He could take a lifeless rock and turn it into a new Gallifrey, and it would be good. It wouldn't be taking a living world and smashing it, like I tend to do.
I was there at the end of all things, Rose. And I saved them, the last people out there in the dark. *He sighs.* I even made sure they wouldn't be dragged back, when my plans for them were done. No one else would've cared enough to do so, because they were mad and broken.
But I am too, and so they have a home. Beautiful, isn't it?
That's why I don't create, yes. Although if I could be brought straight from one project to the next, so I don't have time to ruin things, I could make wonders.
The Doctor, though? He would be perfect for it, and he helps calm down unhappy apes instead. It's honestly a shame.
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