Paradise

The alarm for the daily protocol rang all through out the plantation and Mizuko slowly opened her eyes. She knew her husband was out of bed and in a bad mood from his hangover. She peaked out from behind the mosquito net over the futon at her husband, who happened to be changing into his baggy shirt from yesterday's work along with faded, blue overalls that were still caked in mud. She hurried out of bed and fixed him a breakfast of rice balls, then going off to change into her clothes as well. Mayeda grabbed the rice balls, along with his sacked lunch and left the house, without uttering a single word or batting an eye at her.

She slowly followed behind, rubbing her arm, decorated with new bruises from last night. They went aboard the train that took them straight into the heart of the plantation.

“Alisto!” A Filipino man called, waving his fellow workers to join him. Mizuko and Mayeda had just gotten off the train and gathered with their colleagues. “Ho hurry up! We go talk about da strike before da luna show up.”

“Ay! I no like do da strike no more.” A Japanese man sighed. “I get paid good.”

“Yeah because you one Japanese! All da Filipinos and Chinese, dey get paid so little. We do more work than you!”

“Ay! Shut up, kay?” The Japanese man shoved the Filipino. “Your work is noting!” He spit on the ground after emphasizing, “nothing.”

The Filipino stood his ground and shoved back. The two glared at each other with such malice, that it seemed fire could sprout of the ground any minute, if they took a step. It looked like a fight was about to start, but a loud whistle interrupted them.

“Ho! This is no time for one scrap!” The luna called from his horseback, strolling into view. “We get one plantation inspector!”

Mizuko gasped as the inspector walked out from behind him. The Doctor adjusted the stetson on his head, looked directly at her and smiled.

“He's gonna evaluate your performances.” The boss, a white man, named John Barrowman said arriving on his horse as well. “So work hard!”

The workers dispatched and the Doctor caught up to Mizuko, walking alongside her.

“You not one plantation inspector.”

“No I'm not.” The Doctor held up a badge with all the information of a plantation inspector printed on paper. Slowly the words began to disappear, leaving the paper completely blank and Mizuko's eyes bulging.“Psychic paper. It allows the person whatever to see they want to see.”

“Ho! You surprise me all da time.” Mizuko chuckled.

“Well I”m full of surprises.” He grinned arrogantly. “So tell me about the plantation, Mizuko.”

“What you like know?”

“Who controls all of the sugar industry?”

“Da Big 5.”

“Sorry, who?”

“Ho! You dunno who da Big 5 is?”

“No. Should I?”

“Dey is powerful white men. Even mo powerful dan da luna. Dey control all da big companies, like da electric company.”

“So they're a monopoly then? Both vertical and horizontal.”

“Wat is dat'?”

“A Vertical Monopoly is a type of management control. Vertically integrated companies in a supply chain are united through a common owner. Usually each of the supply chain produces a different product, to satisfy a common need. For example, this Big 5 controls the electric common, which everyone needs or else they'll all be eating in the dark! A Horizontal Monopoly is a type of ownership and control, a strategy actually used by a business or cooperation that seeks to sell a type of product in numerous markets. Oh I see it now! Very clever! They're basically managing Hawaii's economy!”

“I no can understand what you saying.”

“I know. Didn't expect you too. I babble a lot, don't I? Babble! Babble! Babble! Don't know why, it's part of my new found personality.”

Mizuko stared at him with an odd look, before saying, “I tink you crazy.”

“Crazy....crazy's good, isn't it? No? Well I like it. Gives me personality.”

“Yes, you one crazy haole. Don't you feel weird, that you one haole?”

“Haole?”

“Outsider.”

“Am I supposed to feel like a minority?”

“All da' workers hate da white men. They all talk bout' them behind their backs.”

“Ah interesting, but such a boring subject. So, Mizuko tell me about your work. What exactly do you have to do? What's your schedule?”

“One typical work day is da wake up whistle at 5:00, then everyone gotta be at da' field by six. We get one small lunch break at 11 for one half hour, then we continue to work till for, then pau. Everyone go home and everyone sleep by eight. We do jobs like picking out da' sugarcane. The pay low, but some people get one low expectation. It's hot all the time. Ho and usually there one centipede crawling on da' ground. Accidentally stepped on one my first day, dey' just covered my bite in mud. No doctor, luna said we no need one.”

“Don't you have any entertainment at all?”

“Most of da' men gamble and sometimes we get one movie night. It's sometin for us to have fun. Some people tink it's because they don't want us to strike. Some tink it's one reward. Da' boss let us perform Japanese traditions, like da bon festival.”

“Ah! Bon dancing, huh? Never tried it before! Remind me about it, dearie?”

Mizuko shoved a plow into the soil and began to dig. “Enough questions fo' me. Why you here fo? Disguised?”

“Just keeping an eye out for you.”

“If you tinking bout Mayeda, he busy working.”

“Well I'm bored and my TARDIS will take another day to fix.” He rocked on his feet, examining the scenery around him. There were so many different etnicities working side by side, but it seemed like all the Japanese were grouped together and all the Portuguese were on the other. The morning was a bit cold, but the Doctor knew that by mid-afternoon, they were all going to be covered in sweat and bites from misquotes. “So, I've noticed that all of your English here is a bit broken.”

“Pidgin, so everyone understand each otha'.”

“Oh! I see! It's because that there are a ton of etnicities here, therefore they needed to develop a form of communication as a result. A common language! Brilliant!”

“I no can speak pidgin good. I get teased at fo speaking Japanese all da time.”

“You're speaking pidgin now. The TARDIS has a Universal Translator, using a telepathic field, that automatically translates language appropriate for the time period, affecting the brain in a wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey way. So technically, you’re speaking Japanese and the TARDIS is translating your speech to pidgin.”

“Fo' real?”

“Yeah! The TARDIS is pretty amazing. She's a real beauty.”

“If you got one spaceship, does that mean you one alien?”

“Why? Do I look alien?”

“No. You look like one human, like all of us.”

“I'm a Time Lord. We came first.”

“Time Lord?”

“My species. I'm a 907 year old alien madman with a box.”

“907? Ho! Tell me yo secret kay, I like look young like you! But how you one alien? You look like one white man and speak like one too.”

“I can speak a lot of languages. Looking young....well it varies.”

“What you mean.”

“Well whenever I die, well my body dies and I regenerate. Hold on! Let me and try to explain this clearly. Oh! Think of a caterpillar turning into a butterfly! Wait no. Caterpillars don't technically die during a metamorphosis, so it might be a bad example....but anyway! My body changes along with some aspect of my personality. I do have all my memories from every single regeneration. I've never forgotten a face! In fact, I hold a record.”

“You more like one god, than one alien.”

“I've seen fake gods, bad gods, demi-gods, and would-be-gods. The word, “God”, has completely lost all of its meaning to me. I rather be called an alien.”

“But you cannot die!”

“Glorious Mizuko! No one is really immortal. After a set amount of regenerations, I die like everyone else.”

“How many times you die?”

“Ten times and unfortunately counting. Absorbed quite a lot of radiation during my last death.”

“I still cannot believe you one alien.”

“And I can't believe you one human!” The Doctor playfully mocked in reply. He took her hand and placed it on the left side of his chest. After a few seconds, she jerked away quickly, her mouth falling slightly open. “Felt that?”

“That was one - !”

“Heart.” The Doctor finished for her. “I've got two hearts.”

“You da real ting!”

“What? You didn't believe me?” The Doctor smirked and Mizuko opened her mouth again to speak.

“You heard about da strike?” The two grew silent and looked in the direction of the Japanese plantation women, whispering among each other.

“Not gon work! Only da Filipinos like strike!”

“So little bit da Filipinos!”

“Da Chinese too scead to strike. They no like lose their jobs.”

“Why dey like strike anyway?”

“Dey no like get paid 50 cents per 20 sugarcane. They tink they bein harassed too.”

“What they expect? Da white men da ones who like pay dem like dat. Tink they can get special treatment?”

“I feel some sorry for dem. Dey gotta all sleep in da worker's camp. Ho lucky thing we get one small house to ourself.”

“If all da Japanese, da Filipinos, and da Chinese do one strike, it might work.”

“What? You like strike too?”

“Nah! I no like! I gettin' paid bettah than da Filipinos.”

Suddenly one of the plantation ladies looked in their direction. She gave a panicked look towards the other women. They all bore the same look for a second, then turned away.

“Oh yeah, you one plantation inspector that's why.” Mizuko said in realization. “They scead you go tell da boss about da strike and dey get fired.”

“Ahh! You only good for workin yo mouth! Stop talkin story and get back to work!” The luna cried in the distance. Mizuko quickly got back to digging.

“Being fired doesn't sound so bad, considering these conditions.” The Doctor brushed away some dirt from his shiny black dress shoe.

“Some of us here no get one home. Some of us get not enough money to go back home or afford one house. The plantation is home to some, no matta how much dey hate it.”

“Do you like it here?”

Mizuko shrugged, 'Home is home.”

The Doctor grinned.”Mizuko Shumiya, you are brilliant! Fantastic!”

“What I did?”

Instead of answering her question, he planted a kiss on her forehead and swaggered away.