He stopped mid-ramble and looked around the empty console room. Right. Right, of course.
More quietly, to the TARDIS, he continued. "But! If you're going to use one of these things, you should really make sure it's in the best condition, am I right? Of course I'm right! Heard far too many stories of TARDISes ending up with space viruses otherwise."
The inner console glowed warily, but the Doctor waved his hand. "Oh, nothing to worry about. I've already scanned it through twelve different testers. This is in top condition and should work perfectly once I've got it uploaded."
He paused. This was the point where any human companion would've asked 'Well, what is it, Doctor?' It was a natural thing, waiting for this sort of a response. Clearly, it had been too long since he'd traveled with someone. Or, perhaps, not long enough.
"Well, best load it up, then." He pressed a few keys, and the new program he'd acquired on his last landing zone shimmered into life on the TARDIS screen.
It was what the universal program dealers on Cenauri Delta called an 'app'. Which the Doctor could've only assumed meant 'TARDIS application program'. But! Such TARDIS apps were very rare, especially because a) there weren't any TARDISes left but the Doctor's, and b) the type 40 was an obsolete model. But, as he passed the vendors, there it was. A clip with an app on it! Brilliant! It didn't really matter what was on the app, as long as it worked.
He felt a sudden, strange sense of worry. This was the point where a companion would tell him it wasn't a good idea to upload something he didn't trust, wasn't it? Well, he'd have brushed them off then, too.
"Now Loading," a mechanical voice informed him. A tiny blue icon with a cloud on it appeared in the upper right corner of the TARDIS monitor. In swirly Gallifreyan font it said "Weather Satellite".
"Brilliant!" he said, gleefully. "A weather app! Oh, that's brilliant, that's perfect. How often do we end up walking outside when it's raining or too cold? Well, how often do I? Too often! This'll be perfect."
"Please select voice," the mechanical voice requested. Several quasi-humanoid face icons appeared on the screen.
"Right!" the Doctor pressed a button.
"Voice registration one!" said a gruff, man's voice.
"Oh, no, no, that's not you, TARDIS," the Doctor said. He pressed the next one.
"Voice registration two!" a tinny, girl's voice said.
"Bllleeeegaaaah Greeeeevraassh Dibble!" growled another voice.
The Doctor considered this one for a long moment. "Nah, not really you, either."
"Voice registration four." This voice was a calm, British woman's voice. Not exactly what the Doctor imagined for the TARDIS, but it would do.
"Voice selected. Please remember, this application requires use of your intergalactic internet, voice control, video control, hidden microphones about the console, personal files, registration files, layout schematics of this TARDIS, and occasional use of your lavatory. Press to continue."
"What?" the Doctor barked. "What does it need use of---oh, it's probably just to run the thing. Difficult things, applications. Always requiring use of something in order to work." The TARDIS glowed a little with agreement. He pressed the 'continue' button.
"Thank you for selecting Weather Satellite's Type 40 Application System. Would you like to upload an intergalactic Twitter application?"
The Doctor made a face. "Oh, this came from that decade where Twitter was popular. I could never understand Twitter. How can anyone actually express themselves in only 140 letters? 140! That's---"
He shrugged, then pressed the 'no' button. The screen lit up with a picture of Alpha Minor, the planet the TARDIS was presently circling. The Doctor grinned madly at the different weather formations.
"Looks like a toxic gas cloud," the Doctor commented, touching the screen. "Best to avoid that." The gas cloud moved where the Doctor touched it, and he jerked his hand back. He pressed it forward again, and the river that had been circling another cloud swirled and moved with his touch, like a painting fouled by a child playing with it.
The Doctor's eyebrows knitted together in concern. "That must be a…a waiting screen." He pressed the 'My Location' button to the side of the planet.
"Would you like to upload an Atari 7000 application?"
"Please press the 'yes' or 'no' button."
"You've got voice recognition, can't you figure out what I'm saying?"
"Please press the 'yes' or 'no' button."
The Doctor sighed, then pressed 'no'.
"Still calculating location."
He crossed his arms and leaned back against the captain's chair, watching the tiny icon for a planet circle round and round. Why was this taking so long? The damn thing had access to all of the intergalactic internet and all of his records and external sensors! The little planet continued to circle, and the Doctor felt himself start to nod off.
"Would you like to upload a Facebook application?"
The Doctor leaned forward to press 'no'.
"This might work faster if you'd accept one of our sponsors' applications."
"Are you serious?" the Doctor cried.
"I don't know. It's worth a shot, isn't it?"
"Fine, fine. I'll take the Facebook one. I haven't uploaded anything onto it since I was at the Academy, I warn you."
"Facebook application accepted."
"Recognized that by voice command, did you?"
"The total cost of this application is 3.99 credit units."
"Not all applications are free."
"Fine, then, forget the Facebook application, I'll just wait."
"If you wish to uninstall an application, please press the 'uninstall' key."
If the Doctor didn't know better, he'd think the flashing lights within the console was the TARDIS laughing at him.
Another long wait, then a large, red planet appeared on the screen. "Your location within 800 parsects." Vicious storms swirled around an icy rock. Ooh, it would be just terrible to be on that planet and not know the weather.
Pity, the Doctor was nowhere near that planet.
"800 parsects? That's half a light year away!"
"If you would like a more accurate application, you are welcome to upload our upgraded model for 8.99 credit units."
"No, I just want you to work!"
"You might want to think about it. This program does have access to your personal files, and those photos you have titled 'Me and Evelyn Play Dress Up.'"
The Doctor flushed red with embarrassment, then rage. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me! You're a bloody computer program! I uploaded you!"
"And now the upload has become the uploader."
"What??" Where was the companion to warn him of this before he uploaded it onto the TARDIS mainframe?
"Would you like to upload a shop savvy application?"
Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,169
No apologies to G1. Your Weather Channel app is terrible.