The Strange Case of the Forgetful Doctor

Who: Keto, Shakespeare, Tara, Vanessa
Where: Keto's Tempibay
When: During the mechanical madness
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<snip>
He turned back to face Shakespeare.
"In short," said Keto, "He has lost all memory of the past six years."
There was silence.
"Wait, what?" blinked Shakespeare.
</snip>
"Last sixeth years? Prayst, enlighten myne mindeth. Be thou
attempting yonder joke of practicalitys't?"
Keto frowned and let the words slowly sink into his mind, it nearly
stalling on deciphering the last part of Shakespeare's query. This
loss of memory was certainly was no more bizarre than the other
strange events that had befallen the nusiance bard, in fact it fit in
perfectly with what had happened to the surgeon all those years ago.
However, when Keto had last seen Shakespeare he'd been missing his
eyes and here he was quite clearly whole and staring right at him.
This required some serious thought, preferably by somebody else.
"No, Shakespeare. This is no joke. In just over half a decade you've
become more than an annoyance from my past. You turned into a blight
on my present and even though you died nine or ten times, you returned
each time to annoy me further. I thought the last time had been
permanent," Keto said disdainfully.
"If I hath beenst thy surgeon, why doth I retain nay memry?"
"That requires tests and equipment," answered Keto - eyebrows still
raised suspiciously at the apparent amnesiac surgeon. "The former
being reliant on the latter which is an impossibilty due to the
mechanics on this ship going haywire and declaring armageddon on us crew."
"An unholy war between these hellish minions and ourselths? Aboards't
this almighty vessel?" asked shakespeare, horrified and hysterical.
"Yes," said Keto vaguely, struck by a strange sense of familiarity.
"Gadzooks!" cursed Shakespeare. "We musteth hie to thy armoury, take
up our instruments and beginneth thou noble stand of valour!
Henceforth suffereth nay more agains't such metallic tyranny!
Charles, these beasts must ne'er threaten the fair skies again!" He
raised his fist into the air, shaking it vigorously and with enough
speed Tara thought it would fall off.
"Would you just calm down a second? We're doctors, not an elite crack
squad," growled Keto, reminded all too well of the pox Shakespeare had
placed on his life during the times he'd been present.
"Fie on thy cowardice Charles! Fie on thee. I'st shalleth place myne
part!"
"You're a surgeon William, wake up from your middle english fantasy!
This is not some harmless war against robots! People will need
treatment and we're the only peoeple who can give it!" Keto gave some
serious consideration to retracting his previous statement.
Shakespeare seemed to take heed of this and sagged a little, resting
back against Keto's favourite wall.
"I supposeth thy tells't true words - but Charles, whateth shall we do
with myne memry?"
Keto sighed and rubbed his eyes wishing he, no, wishing Shakespeare
were somewhere else in the space time continuum. "I don't know,
William, I told you that to find out requires tests and equipment.
Currently the only testing going on here is you on my patience."
"I hath treated nay individual you be tending to," replied Shakespeare.
"PATIENCE, NOT PATIENTS!"
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OOC: Hello again all! I'm back (again) and this time I've been given
the prods and pushes needed to get me writing. ;) Chris. Here's to
the medibay!