E6 Part 6: has he thoughts within his head? (gemara kiddushin 29a)

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Inside Unit One.
T-2 Hours, 47 Minutes

"No, seriously. Who is he? And, um, how did he get in here?"

It was the first time Shinji had ever seen the Doctor completely and utterly dumbfounded. He looked back and forth between Shinji and the plug's latest occupant -- a middle-aged man, slightly balding, with a leather jacket and fairly large ears. "Wh-what," he sputtered.

The third man looked, if anything, just as amazed. "You can see me?" he asked in a strange accent.

"Um. Yes?..."

The man grinned. "Fantastic!"

"What," the Doctor repeated again. "Wh -- wait. Oh. Oh, no. No no no no no. Don't you dare. Don't you -- YAAAHRGGKKKKK!" He seized his head and doubled over, as if struck by a sudden-onset migraine.

The next thing Shinji knew, he was surrounded by people. He found his hand being seized and shaken eagerly by a short, large-nosed man with a clownish haircut. "So this is the latest recruit, eh? Delighted to meet you, dear boy! Simply delighted!"

Shinji desperately tried to peer through the crowd. "Uh... Doctor?"

"Oh, don't mind Victorious over there." The tall, white-haired gentleman in his line of sight sniffed. "He'll be fine. And for heaven's sake, all of you, give the poor child some space. He looks close to seizure."

"Hmmm. Not much to look at, is he?" An elderly man peered down at Shinji, leaning on a gnarled old cane. "Still, I suppose it could be worse. At least he lacks Chatterton's arrogance..."

"Oi, don't listen to the old buzzard." Mr. Big Ears snatched Shinji's hand away from the clown and clasped it. "You're doing great, kid. Trust me. You're gonna be brilliant by the time all this is done."

"All the same," drawled an odd-looking fellow in a wide-brimmed hat and a very long scarf, "you cannot deny the girls show quite a bit more promise. The captain. The angel. Even the ginger, provided she has an actual soul in there somewhere."

"Well, of course you'd say that, you egotistical old degenerate!" snapped a curly-haired man in a hideous, multicolored coat. "Just can't wait to break out the old leather bikini, can you?"

"Oh, good grief --"

"Right, that's IT!" The Doctor roared from the back of the plug, his tone suggesting a not-insignificant level of pain. "ALL of you, BACK INSIDE! NOW!"

"Spoilsport," sniffed a pale man wearing a fez.

"I SAID NOW!"

And, just like that, the crowd vanished. The two of them were alone in the entry plug once more.

Shinji stared at the Doctor. "Wh-what the hell was that?!"

"That was impossible!" The Doctor stood up straight, his eyes wide. "Completely impossible! There's no way that anything could -- unless..." He turned and looked at Shinji. Then he dropped his hands and hid them behind his back. "Shinji -- how many fingers am I holding up?"

"What?"

"It's important! Just guess! How many fingers?!"

"Um -- three! No, wait, now four." An image flashed into Shinji's head. "Um, three -- or two if you don't count your thumb as a finger."

The Doctor held up his right hand, two fingers and the thumb extended. "Right. So... low-level psychic abilities, then. Exacerbated by the neural link. Probably doesn't add up to much outside of the tank -- maybe some basic empathy. Like wosshername, the woman on Star Trek with the -- anyway..."

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