Ripples made waves, waves interference patterns, subtle, shifting, twinkling...

A stray thought influenced, a decision changed, a heart touched by empathy...

More writings, more thoughts, twigs upon branches upon trees, stemming from a common root notion...

The invisible force of a mental revolution, creeping across the generations, one open mind at at time...

"Martha Jones, welcome home."

The Doctor beamed, holding the door with theatrical flourish as she stepped out of the TARDIS.

"It's the year 7372, and the Earth, here, is the hub of an interstellar Republic encompassing most of the Milky Way galaxy. It's an era of peace and economic prosperity, not to mention the template for what will one day become the Great and Bountiful Human Empire."

"Fantastic." Martha smiled approvingly. "But why are we here?"

"This is a very important day," the Doctor said enthusiastically, taking her hand as they bounded down an alleyway toward the bustling city center. "Not just for Earth, but for the entire galaxy."

"Oh yeah?" Martha said, intrigued. "What happened?"

The Time Lord smiled over his shoulder.

"Oh, it's unprecedented," he said. "Absolutely unprecedented in the entire sweeping, tumultuous history of humanity. It was only noted as a fluke, a blip, barely worth a mention. But, other such days have followed. And, we've come to soak it all in."

Martha smirked.

"So...what? You mean there's no sinister behind the scenes plotting going on – no evil genius or twisted supercomputer we have to thwart?"

"Not today," the Doctor told her, coming to an abrupt halt in front of a large holo-screen at the center of a noisy, densely crowded square.

Martha regarded him, marveling at the difference in his manner and expression. He was usually so distant. The aloof Time Lord, as she saw him, always alone, always…somehow…sad. Wistful, nursing a wound the young medical student could never hope to heal.

But now… Now, he was grinning like a little boy, practically giddy with energy. His unruly brown hair virtually stood on end as he bounced on the balls of his feet, impatiently awaiting the next news broadcast with wide, eager eyes.

It was a rare thing for Martha to see the Doctor this way. He looked so young, so exuberant. With a sudden twinge, she wondered if this was how he had been with Rose. Not the distant Time Lord she knew, but an eager guide, brimming with life and wonder and the promise of the universe…

"Look! Look, Martha, it's coming on!" he crowed happily, giving her hand a quick, impulsive squeeze. "You'll understand now."

"Understand what?" she asked.

"Just wait and see!" he said, turning back to the screen.

A blue-skinned woman with solid yellow eyes was speaking, but her voice was muted, her words scrolling along the bottom of the screen at a quicksilver pace. Martha found she couldn't read each word individually, she had to sort of blur her eyes and catch the sentences as they flew past.

The Doctor didn't seem bothered, or even to notice.

"And in other news," the woman was saying, "Ms. Anthea Harper of Santa Fe, New Mexico celebrated her 200th birthday today. Mr. Halalal Columbki of the Alpha Centauri Space Base and Pfaa Phaaz, the algae colony currently based in Queensland, Australia, have both reached the impressive age of 597 Earth standard years which, according to the Guinness Book of Galactic Records, leaves them tied for oldest living sapient being."

"Guess they haven't met you," Martha teased, giving the Doctor a playful nudge.

The 900-plus-year-old Time Lord shot her a brief look.

"And this day is noteworthy for something else, too, isn't it Joe," the blue-skinned woman continued, turning to face a middle-aged human man seated to her left.

"Yes, it certainly is, Grikmilli," he said through his bright, newsreader smile. "The Hitchhiker's Instant-Access Encyclopedia Company has announced, and the Intergalactic Records Office has confirmed, that this day – May 22, 7372 – marks the first day in recorded human history that no one has died."

Martha's eyes widened and she glanced at the Doctor, but his attention was fully glued to the screen.

"But, can that really be true?" Grikmilli was asking when Martha managed to catch the rapid flow of the words again. "It's a big galaxy out there. When you consider all the hospitals - the accidents, fires, floods, even hold-ups—"

"I know it seems incredible," Joe said. "But, the officials have confirmed it. For the first time in human history, violence and illness has dropped to such a degree that, for a full standard day, not one person has died."

Grikmilli raised her delicately painted eyebrows and blinked her vertical eyelids at the camera.

"Well, you heard it here first, folks," she said. "And that's it for our 'On the 8's' News Update, but we'll be back with full coverage tonight at 2300. Now, be sure to stay tuned after the break for Channel 42's exclusive coverage of the 356th Galactic Cup, presented by our own Dafydd Thomas..."

"Well?" the Doctor said eagerly, breaking Martha's concentration.

She blinked a little to restore the moisture to her dry eyes, and let the whizzing captions scroll on without her.

"Well what?" she asked, confused.

The Doctor stared.

"No one died, Martha!" he exclaimed. "For the first time in human history! No one died!"

"Yeah, I'll admit that's pretty good," Martha said.

The Doctor sighed and shook his head.

"What?" Martha demanded. "What is it? Am I missing something here?"

"Remember what I told you about the big picture," the Doctor said.

"Yeah, but I still don't see—"

Martha cut herself off, her memory catching up with her mouth.

"That girl," she said. "All those months ago."

She blinked up at the Doctor, her eyes wide.

"Doctor…was that it, then? When you said we were sent there for a reason…?"

"It's the bigger picture, Martha Jones," the Doctor told her, his dark eyes sweeping over the throngs of people striding through the square, laughing, chatting, scowling, smiling… "But, it has to start somewhere. Like any picture, it starts with a single brush stroke, a single pixel. In this case," he pulled a slender paperback from his pocket, "in the poignant words of a frightened child. A child who refused to give up hope, even as she watched death blow up her door."

"Her final farewell," Martha said, taking the book and flipping to the end, running her hand over the smooth page. "How could she have known, Doctor? How could she have known someone would find her notebook, when she saw her planet burn?"

The Doctor shook his head.

"She didn't know. Couldn't know. But, she kept writing, if only for herself. And, in the end, her words touched people. Forced them to think. Made them take a good look at themselves through her eyes and, for once, instead of getting all defensive, a few of them realized they could change what they saw."

"So now, centuries later—"

"Call it a quirk," the Doctor said. "But, humanity finally had a day where no one died."

He took the book back and replaced it in his coat.

Martha smiled softly.

"Well, it certainly took long enough," she said. "But, how many people had to die for us to make it this far?"

"What counts is that you did make it," the Doctor told her, giving her hand a light, reassuring squeeze. "You make it, Martha Jones. And for me, right now, that's all that matters."

The End