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Entry tags:
SGA - Storytime
So I found a fic in a supposedly temp folder at work that was about 90% complete when it was abandoned... In 2008. I debated poking at it and wrapping it up and finally had the chance to do so. So, um, yeah, have a random SGA fic? With hints of SG-1 along the way?
Title: Storytime
Genre: Gen, Slightly Cracky
Fandom: SGA, Slight SG-1
Rating: PG
Length: ~1,700 words
Spoilers: Entire Series, Future Fic
Synopsis: History lives on in stories... and other things.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and am making no profit from this.
Also available on AO3.
The Teacher gathered her students around her, looking down upon their adoring faces. This was her favorite time of day: a cross between a history lesson and storytime. The children seemed to enjoy it so much as well. True, this particular story had been told thousands of times before, but it was what was known as a “classic” – the words, much like their lessons, never got old.
“Are we ready?” she asked, watching as a few latecomers settled into their seats, hands still stained with paints and dyes. She also noted with interest several adults clustered around the sides, a look of sheepish anticipation on their faces.
After a chorus of “Yes,” she began:
A long time ago, there was a race of great beings. They were powerful enough to travel across the universe in the blink of an eye, and built huge and wondrous creations. They achieved many great things, leaving them for their children to enjoy and explore. However, there were several creations that rather should not have been left behind at all.
Now, like most parents, they thought their belongings were tucked away safely out of reach while they went on to play with other things. However, like most children, their own dug into every nook and cranny, trying to find anything that could be found. Sometimes they learned from the creations. Sometimes they were hurt by the creations. Sometimes the creations got out of control.
The children looked to their parents for assistance, but they were nowhere to be found. While the children were investigating, their parents had moved on to yet another something new, completely entranced and obsessed. Eventually, several of the children found where their parents had run off to and begged for help. Some were willing to give answers, but only at great cost. Most felt the children needed to learn to deal with their problems on their own.
The children were quick to point out that what they had encountered were, in fact, their parents’ problems and chided them for leaving out their toys where someone could get hurt. The parents quickly decided that they had evolved to a level of non-interference and could not mettle in their children’s growth processes. The children felt this was a cop out.
Some of the parents pretended to play by the rules, but actually snuck the children hints when the others were not looking. The children eventually grew tired of the game and decided they would just figure things out on their own.
No longer concerned about their parents’ watchful gaze, that was not actually that watchful, the children grew and learned and created great things of their own. Eventually, they too had children, becoming the new generation of parents. However, unlike their parents, now known as the Grandparents, they left instruction manuals and simulations with easy to decipher pictograms, and made an active effort to make sure their own children would not suffer from what became known as the Idiocy of the Others.
She paused in her tale, looking around at the enchanted faces of the young. Something towards the back of the room caught her eye and she smiled. Two very familiar faces smiled back. One was attached to a lanky body propped haphazardly up against the wall. The other figure was slightly stockier with his arms crossed in front of him and wore an amused expression.
“And this is why, to this very day, we are careful to document everything and to support others in achieving their endeavors. For we live in the Era of Common Sense, and hope to continue to do so for some time,” she concluded.
She lowered her head respectfully to accept the round of thumbs-up and smattering of applause that was offered. The children and their parents were always so polite and grateful for the work of the Tellers, add to that she held the revered position of Teacher, and it went on for a full thirty seconds this time.
Once completed, she shooed them in the traditional manner, saying, “Go now, leave. It is time to run off your excess energy with PT Fun Time.”
The children scattered out the door, as did the parents. As expected, the two figures in the back of the room remained. “I can’t believe that name stuck,” one said.
“It was meant as a joke,” the other defended.
She approached, effectively halting their conversation. “Gentlemen, you honor us with your presence,” she greeted them. She waved the traditional salute of greeting and was rewarded with a return salutation from the man against the wall.
“Well, you know how we like to stop by and keep an eye on things,” he shrugged. Then, with a grin that lit up his multi-colored eyes, he added, “Plus, it’s always fun to see the offspring.”
“We’re on like what, the fourth generation?” the other man asked.
“Fifth,” she gently corrected. She resisted the urge to bow her head in deference to their station, knowing their preferences.
“Geez, Rodney, you can’t even keep track of your own kids anymore?” the first man teased. He stayed slouched against the wall, but tilted his head slightly to get a better view of his companion.
“Well, unlike you, I can’t just assume that every little monster with sentient darkish hair is probably one of mine,” the man retorted without heat.
“You could always just count the balding ones,” came the reply. The lift of the eyebrow, the hint of a smirk; she saw these each in the children she taught daily.
“Very funny, Sheppard,” Rodney rolled his eyes, running a self-conscious hand through his own short hair. “Anyway, lots of kids, lots of years, tend to blend together, especially when they go by so fast. If I stopped to think about it, I could probably map out the family tree, but I was just talking rough estimates here.”
The Teacher laughed, a light, lilting sound. “You two are always the same,” she said.
They had visited many times during the course of her life, and it was always a pleasure to see them interact. The man known as Sheppard was once the great Colonel John Sheppard of the Atlantean Military, now Ascended. His companion, as always, was the revered Doctor Rodney McKay of the Atlantean Sciences, also Ascended. They, of course, preferred not to have the suffix added to their titles. When pressed, they tended to come up with several... interesting alternatives. To believe the stories, they, along with the original Parents, stood up to the Grandparents’ Regime and helped create the modern Atlantean society as she knew it today. To believe them, they simply completed a task that needed completing. To her, they were simply decent people and good friends.
Sheppard gave her a look she could not quite discern, almost wistful. “And you are just like your great-great-great grandmother,” he smiled, counting off the greats on his fingers.
“I am honored to be compared to such a woman,” she said humbly. This time, she did bow her head. Her ancestor’s people were followers of some of the older traditions, and she respected that.
“Yep, definitely one of Teyla’s,” Rodney nodded. “Oh, by the way, she would have come too, but one of the trading factions requested her help in deciphering some elaborate something or another,” he added distractedly. “She was the one who set it up, so they thought she’d be the best to explain.”
The Teacher nodded; this happened frequently. “I understand. The Ascended Doctor Jackson is coming by this afternoon to look at our translation program,” she commented.
“Daniel?” Sheppard asked, just as Rodney inquired, “What’s wrong with the program? I could take a look at it for you.”
“The program works more than adequately,” she assured them. “It’s one of the pronunciations it is having difficulty with. It is insisting on one version, while the settlers of Old Geniia insist that it is not only incorrect, but quite offensive.”
Sheppard coughed and looked over at McKay knowingly. “Yeah, uh, Daniel would probably be best for that,” he agreed. “Everything else going okay though?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.
“Everything is hunky as well dory,” she insisted.
McKay snorted. “Seriously, you should not be following Sheppard in the realm of linguistics. Though I would love to see how Daniel translated that one,” he admitted.
She eyed him curiously. “It was the Ascended Doctor Jackson that both provided that description and assured us of the terminology. He did state that you come from a world of varied linguistics and formalities in your time, perhaps this is one that your people did not follow?” She meant no offense, though she also privately believed the Ascended Doctor Jackson was perhaps more accurate in his translations than the scientist before her.
“Never forgot that Daniel was part of SG-1 during the Jack O’Neill era,” Sheppard advised in a quiet voice from the corner of his mouth. Sage advice indeed as it was a sign the Beginner of the Era of Common Sense was not to be trifled with.
“We shall never forget,” she promised, speaking as he did in reverence to his tone.
McKay clapped his hands together, though he did not hide a subtle eye roll – she well knew his friendly competitive tendencies with the Beginner. “Yeah, so, I’m just going to check on your ZedPM supply while I’m here, tweak the output, and all that. Sheppard can go rile up the kids or, you know, actually do something productive if you want.”
“Your visit shall be appreciated whatever you so choose to do,” she advised them both, and it was not a lie. The children appreciated the PT Fun Time when led by Sheppard, the parents appreciated the increase in production times when McKay tweaked the output, and the Teachers appreciated that such visits were usually followed by Rest Time, wherein the children slept quite soundly and much non-child-related work was accomplished.
They waved a salute once more and wandered off to do what the Parents would do. Before she righted the mess the children had left in their wake, she made a request to the kitchens for several additional Power Bars to be sent for Snack Time. Should the guests remain, she would offer them not in tribute, but in thanks. Should the guests forgo such a treat, well, then she would have bribery material over several dark haired troublemakers that tended to sit in the back of the class.
All in all, it had been a successful day and one, like many before, that she would be proud to remember and to record into history.
End.
Feedback is always welcome.
Title: Storytime
Genre: Gen, Slightly Cracky
Fandom: SGA, Slight SG-1
Rating: PG
Length: ~1,700 words
Spoilers: Entire Series, Future Fic
Synopsis: History lives on in stories... and other things.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and am making no profit from this.
Also available on AO3.
The Teacher gathered her students around her, looking down upon their adoring faces. This was her favorite time of day: a cross between a history lesson and storytime. The children seemed to enjoy it so much as well. True, this particular story had been told thousands of times before, but it was what was known as a “classic” – the words, much like their lessons, never got old.
“Are we ready?” she asked, watching as a few latecomers settled into their seats, hands still stained with paints and dyes. She also noted with interest several adults clustered around the sides, a look of sheepish anticipation on their faces.
After a chorus of “Yes,” she began:
A long time ago, there was a race of great beings. They were powerful enough to travel across the universe in the blink of an eye, and built huge and wondrous creations. They achieved many great things, leaving them for their children to enjoy and explore. However, there were several creations that rather should not have been left behind at all.
Now, like most parents, they thought their belongings were tucked away safely out of reach while they went on to play with other things. However, like most children, their own dug into every nook and cranny, trying to find anything that could be found. Sometimes they learned from the creations. Sometimes they were hurt by the creations. Sometimes the creations got out of control.
The children looked to their parents for assistance, but they were nowhere to be found. While the children were investigating, their parents had moved on to yet another something new, completely entranced and obsessed. Eventually, several of the children found where their parents had run off to and begged for help. Some were willing to give answers, but only at great cost. Most felt the children needed to learn to deal with their problems on their own.
The children were quick to point out that what they had encountered were, in fact, their parents’ problems and chided them for leaving out their toys where someone could get hurt. The parents quickly decided that they had evolved to a level of non-interference and could not mettle in their children’s growth processes. The children felt this was a cop out.
Some of the parents pretended to play by the rules, but actually snuck the children hints when the others were not looking. The children eventually grew tired of the game and decided they would just figure things out on their own.
No longer concerned about their parents’ watchful gaze, that was not actually that watchful, the children grew and learned and created great things of their own. Eventually, they too had children, becoming the new generation of parents. However, unlike their parents, now known as the Grandparents, they left instruction manuals and simulations with easy to decipher pictograms, and made an active effort to make sure their own children would not suffer from what became known as the Idiocy of the Others.
She paused in her tale, looking around at the enchanted faces of the young. Something towards the back of the room caught her eye and she smiled. Two very familiar faces smiled back. One was attached to a lanky body propped haphazardly up against the wall. The other figure was slightly stockier with his arms crossed in front of him and wore an amused expression.
“And this is why, to this very day, we are careful to document everything and to support others in achieving their endeavors. For we live in the Era of Common Sense, and hope to continue to do so for some time,” she concluded.
She lowered her head respectfully to accept the round of thumbs-up and smattering of applause that was offered. The children and their parents were always so polite and grateful for the work of the Tellers, add to that she held the revered position of Teacher, and it went on for a full thirty seconds this time.
Once completed, she shooed them in the traditional manner, saying, “Go now, leave. It is time to run off your excess energy with PT Fun Time.”
The children scattered out the door, as did the parents. As expected, the two figures in the back of the room remained. “I can’t believe that name stuck,” one said.
“It was meant as a joke,” the other defended.
She approached, effectively halting their conversation. “Gentlemen, you honor us with your presence,” she greeted them. She waved the traditional salute of greeting and was rewarded with a return salutation from the man against the wall.
“Well, you know how we like to stop by and keep an eye on things,” he shrugged. Then, with a grin that lit up his multi-colored eyes, he added, “Plus, it’s always fun to see the offspring.”
“We’re on like what, the fourth generation?” the other man asked.
“Fifth,” she gently corrected. She resisted the urge to bow her head in deference to their station, knowing their preferences.
“Geez, Rodney, you can’t even keep track of your own kids anymore?” the first man teased. He stayed slouched against the wall, but tilted his head slightly to get a better view of his companion.
“Well, unlike you, I can’t just assume that every little monster with sentient darkish hair is probably one of mine,” the man retorted without heat.
“You could always just count the balding ones,” came the reply. The lift of the eyebrow, the hint of a smirk; she saw these each in the children she taught daily.
“Very funny, Sheppard,” Rodney rolled his eyes, running a self-conscious hand through his own short hair. “Anyway, lots of kids, lots of years, tend to blend together, especially when they go by so fast. If I stopped to think about it, I could probably map out the family tree, but I was just talking rough estimates here.”
The Teacher laughed, a light, lilting sound. “You two are always the same,” she said.
They had visited many times during the course of her life, and it was always a pleasure to see them interact. The man known as Sheppard was once the great Colonel John Sheppard of the Atlantean Military, now Ascended. His companion, as always, was the revered Doctor Rodney McKay of the Atlantean Sciences, also Ascended. They, of course, preferred not to have the suffix added to their titles. When pressed, they tended to come up with several... interesting alternatives. To believe the stories, they, along with the original Parents, stood up to the Grandparents’ Regime and helped create the modern Atlantean society as she knew it today. To believe them, they simply completed a task that needed completing. To her, they were simply decent people and good friends.
Sheppard gave her a look she could not quite discern, almost wistful. “And you are just like your great-great-great grandmother,” he smiled, counting off the greats on his fingers.
“I am honored to be compared to such a woman,” she said humbly. This time, she did bow her head. Her ancestor’s people were followers of some of the older traditions, and she respected that.
“Yep, definitely one of Teyla’s,” Rodney nodded. “Oh, by the way, she would have come too, but one of the trading factions requested her help in deciphering some elaborate something or another,” he added distractedly. “She was the one who set it up, so they thought she’d be the best to explain.”
The Teacher nodded; this happened frequently. “I understand. The Ascended Doctor Jackson is coming by this afternoon to look at our translation program,” she commented.
“Daniel?” Sheppard asked, just as Rodney inquired, “What’s wrong with the program? I could take a look at it for you.”
“The program works more than adequately,” she assured them. “It’s one of the pronunciations it is having difficulty with. It is insisting on one version, while the settlers of Old Geniia insist that it is not only incorrect, but quite offensive.”
Sheppard coughed and looked over at McKay knowingly. “Yeah, uh, Daniel would probably be best for that,” he agreed. “Everything else going okay though?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.
“Everything is hunky as well dory,” she insisted.
McKay snorted. “Seriously, you should not be following Sheppard in the realm of linguistics. Though I would love to see how Daniel translated that one,” he admitted.
She eyed him curiously. “It was the Ascended Doctor Jackson that both provided that description and assured us of the terminology. He did state that you come from a world of varied linguistics and formalities in your time, perhaps this is one that your people did not follow?” She meant no offense, though she also privately believed the Ascended Doctor Jackson was perhaps more accurate in his translations than the scientist before her.
“Never forgot that Daniel was part of SG-1 during the Jack O’Neill era,” Sheppard advised in a quiet voice from the corner of his mouth. Sage advice indeed as it was a sign the Beginner of the Era of Common Sense was not to be trifled with.
“We shall never forget,” she promised, speaking as he did in reverence to his tone.
McKay clapped his hands together, though he did not hide a subtle eye roll – she well knew his friendly competitive tendencies with the Beginner. “Yeah, so, I’m just going to check on your ZedPM supply while I’m here, tweak the output, and all that. Sheppard can go rile up the kids or, you know, actually do something productive if you want.”
“Your visit shall be appreciated whatever you so choose to do,” she advised them both, and it was not a lie. The children appreciated the PT Fun Time when led by Sheppard, the parents appreciated the increase in production times when McKay tweaked the output, and the Teachers appreciated that such visits were usually followed by Rest Time, wherein the children slept quite soundly and much non-child-related work was accomplished.
They waved a salute once more and wandered off to do what the Parents would do. Before she righted the mess the children had left in their wake, she made a request to the kitchens for several additional Power Bars to be sent for Snack Time. Should the guests remain, she would offer them not in tribute, but in thanks. Should the guests forgo such a treat, well, then she would have bribery material over several dark haired troublemakers that tended to sit in the back of the class.
All in all, it had been a successful day and one, like many before, that she would be proud to remember and to record into history.
End.
Feedback is always welcome.
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And through each so very seriously taught phrase ("Idiocy of the Others" etc) you can clearly hear Rodney's voice ringing from the past.
Really lovely story. :-)
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One little typo I noticed on re-reading:
...should say "...could not meddle..."
Hope you don't mind my nit-picking so long after the original post... :-}