You will probably want to read the Introduction before you start.
Prologue
“Kill it. For God’s sake, Valerie, kill it!”
I stepped back. The slime-drenched thing wriggled at my feet, its radioactive heart making it change colours like some sort of electric chameleon.
Reluctantly I raised the gun, my hands shaking…
“It’s the only way Valerie. Just do it!”
Valerie lurched forward, and suddenly she was sitting. Awake, in bed; her heart pounding. The sound of fierce machinery and slithering was replaced by silence and muffled birdsong. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, admiring her luck. She had bad dreams, but most women her age had back ache. She ruffled her head. Another hair fell off – but still brunette. Forty years old and she was yet to find a grey hair. Ironic, for a woman whose surname was Gray.
She yawned, stepping out onto the creaking floorboards and opening the windows. The light crept in through her net curtains, and she could see the green of fresh grass out on the fields. It was another misty morning. The village seemed to get mistier every day.
“Are you alright?”
Paul was stood by the door, carrying a tray with a full English breakfast. Valerie smiled.
“You’re crying.”
Valerie rubbed her eyes again. This time her fingers were wet with their tears.
“So I am.”
“You had the dream again, didn’t you?”
I stepped back. The slime-drenched thing wriggled at my feet, its radioactive heart making it change colours like some sort of electric chameleon.
Reluctantly I raised the gun, my hands shaking…
“It’s the only way Valerie. Just do it!”
Valerie lurched forward, and suddenly she was sitting. Awake, in bed; her heart pounding. The sound of fierce machinery and slithering was replaced by silence and muffled birdsong. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, admiring her luck. She had bad dreams, but most women her age had back ache. She ruffled her head. Another hair fell off – but still brunette. Forty years old and she was yet to find a grey hair. Ironic, for a woman whose surname was Gray.
She yawned, stepping out onto the creaking floorboards and opening the windows. The light crept in through her net curtains, and she could see the green of fresh grass out on the fields. It was another misty morning. The village seemed to get mistier every day.
“Are you alright?”
Paul was stood by the door, carrying a tray with a full English breakfast. Valerie smiled.
“You’re crying.”
Valerie rubbed her eyes again. This time her fingers were wet with their tears.
“So I am.”
“You had the dream again, didn’t you?”
The Eighth Doctor Adventures
Series 1 - Episode 1
Time at the Museum
Written by The Genie
Robin woke up to the sound of whirring, like machines used backstage in a high-maintenance play. The steam said the same, sweeping along the floor through small ventilation holes in the ground. Now she was more awake, Robin could really take in the majesty of the TARDIS. As she adjusted, her vision went from blurred to clear, and she gazed around the cavernous domain, not knowing where to look first.
The ship, in this room at least, was like two completely unlike locations merged together. It was like her adoptive aunt’s house, scattered with wealthy antiquated ornaments; an upright piano, collecting dust on its lid, and an ominous grandfather clock. Shelves full of old books lined the walls, and as the Doctor wandered gracefully around his home, his feet pattered along the wooden floor.
The land of science-fiction began down the steps which led to his grand console; a futuristic panel of whimsical buttons and levers with a blood-red luminescent central column. And, as a synthesis of the two divergent styles, a balcony in an alcove overlooked the dark and gloomy depths of the ship’s seemingly endless interior.
[Click on photos to view in full]
The ship, in this room at least, was like two completely unlike locations merged together. It was like her adoptive aunt’s house, scattered with wealthy antiquated ornaments; an upright piano, collecting dust on its lid, and an ominous grandfather clock. Shelves full of old books lined the walls, and as the Doctor wandered gracefully around his home, his feet pattered along the wooden floor.
The land of science-fiction began down the steps which led to his grand console; a futuristic panel of whimsical buttons and levers with a blood-red luminescent central column. And, as a synthesis of the two divergent styles, a balcony in an alcove overlooked the dark and gloomy depths of the ship’s seemingly endless interior.
[Click on photos to view in full]
“Ah, you’re awake!” The Doctor rushed down the steps to the console unit and pulled an individual lever. The ship juddered lightly. Robin sensed it had landed. “Parked,” confirmed the Doctor. “Temporal parallel parking. Failed my test six times.” He gestured to the door. “Shall I?”
Robin got up, suddenly feeling fully awake. “Yes. Wait… how long was I asleep?”
“A while.” The Doctor glanced at the grandfather clock. “Oh, three hours. How time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Having… fun?”
The Doctor dashed over to the doors like an excited child. “Yes, fun! I did a bit of advanced reading on temporal mechanics, wrote the first chapter of a novel and texted Harper Lee some book ideas.”
Robin raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, okay,” confessed the Doctor, “I enjoy a bit of literature.” He slowly opened the door and light from outside flooded the dark room. A vivid white light that drew Robin towards it. As she got closer to the door, she could make out something outside. The Doctor held out his hand.
“Robin Moon – welcome to the universe.”
“Where…” she coughed, losing her breath. “Where are we?” She followed the Doctor who stepped out instinctively. As she stepped out, her hands found themselves resting on gold railings. The air was warm and filled with the same rich gold as the railings. Robin noticed she was stood on a circular platform; the only other things around her were the TARDIS and some sort of control-box.
She looked down and thanked herself that she wasn’t scared of heights. Below her was an enormous drop, overlooking a remarkable landscape of organised buildings and roads, shining gleaming bronze, silver and gold. There were some bright green landscapes with moving dots that must have been people.
“You know how when you want to travel somewhere, it’s because you’ve seen it on a calendar or something?” asked the Doctor. “Well, here we go. Nice starter, I thought. Welcome to the Museum.”
“The Museum?”
“The Museum. He pointed to the stretch of buildings. At the end of the horizon, they could just about make out the curvature of the planet. “So vast and so unique that it doesn’t need a name. The greatest collection of famous artefacts the universe has ever seen – a wonderful taster of what the universe has to offer.” The Doctor whipped two strips of paper out of his pocket, holding them up in the air with pride. “And we’ve got tickets!”
“So we’re…” Robin’s head was full of questions. She failed at organising them into a logical order. “We’re on a sort of observation deck?”
“Very good!” answered the Doctor, impressed, with an encouraging beam. “And you’re probably wondering why the whole place isn’t bursting.” He darted over to the control panel, operating it directly through the sonic screwdriver. “This place gets so busy that it exists across several dimensional planes. And time moves differently against the dimensional planes, so there are hundreds, thousands, of different time-streams, all operating at any one time – or two time, or, you know, whatever. But here’s the thing – it’s always about money. The richest and most recognised, they get a whole time-stream each. But I don’t want that for you. I think you should see the second richest.” He pocketed his sonic. “Stand over here.”
Robin drew her eyes away from the panorama and did as instructed. The Doctor flicked a switch and just like that, they’d moved.
They were at the doors to one of the golden buildings. When Robin strained her neck to look up, she could see the observation deck on which they’d arrived. She peered into the building through the glass doors. In front of the doors was a shrine, topped with a sculpture of a confident, short-haired petite woman.
“Cerscillus,” said the Doctor in introduction. “The greatest time pioneer who ever lived. This museum is dedicated to her. Everything you see in here, all of these artefacts, were witnessed by Cerscillus at some point during her long life. A life she didn’t waste a moment of.” The Doctor offered Cerscillus an imaginary salute in his mind’s eye. “She was, perhaps, the most accomplished woman in the universe.”
The door swung open as a pair of scaly silver-skinned creatures left. Their heads bulged unusually, encapsulated in glass domes like assets of a nineties science-fiction blockbuster.
“Their own oxygen supply,” said the Doctor, guessing Robin’s thoughts. “This place is sterilised but different species need different conditions. So for Health and Safety reasons, the Museum is obliged to provide the safest environment for individual species.”
“Health and Safety,” muttered Robin.
“They made me put railings in my TARDIS.”
Robin laughed.
The glass on the other side of the doors was darker. The hall was sonorous and somewhat intimidating, lined with waxworks and sculptures. Some, of strange alien birds, even balanced impossibly in the air.
“No one really knew that much about Cerscillus, in terms of her aims at least.” The Doctor’s voice echoed around the hall. “There were a lot of rumours that she spent her travels looking for something, and there are whole internet and externet forums dedicated to speculating exactly what that was. One of her last great ventures was to the Organic Belt; a cluster of planets all inhabited by primitive species. No one else had ever dared step foot on them before, and no one has since. These waxworks are all based on the photographs Cerscillus took and the descriptions she wrote.”
“That one looks like a bear,” observed Robin, pointing to one biped in its own corner. “But the mouth is curved differently.”
They continued to the end of the hall and exited at the other side. It had been cooler in the hall. The cool air was a relief; the sun bore a heavy influence outside.
The Doctor arrived at another box and knelt down, pulling out his sonic screwdriver again. A wire sparked and singed one of his eyebrows.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not expected of visitors,” commented Robin. “But you’re not just a visitor, are you? I can tell. Why are we really here?”
“Blimey, you’re clever! OK, so I lied a bit,” he said, rushing through his confession. “Basically I got a message on this thing.” He pulled out a wallet and waved it in front of Robin. “Psychic paper. Someone wants me to break in. ‘The Highest Authority’, apparently. Are you alright with that?”
“Well, I suppose I’d better be.” Robin crouched down to join him. “So, what are you doing?”
“I hate whoever’s doing this, but I want to get to the root of it and find out the truth. So I’m pulling apart time, separating the timelines. I’m removing all the temporal alterations. It’s like filtering a load of drinks together to get to pure water. In fact-“
He hit the machine with his fist, but harder than he’d anticipated. The sky fell dark.
“Oh. Whoops.”
Light came back as before, accompanied by silence. And Robin was gone.
“Separating the timelines. Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “I am such an idiot sometimes.”
He stroked a marble pillar, realising how it curved into the roof of the hall, thus supporting itself – a paradox.
“I hate whoever set me up, but I love whoever designed this architecture.” He talked to himself, but with the hope that someone else could hear.
***
“Doctor? Doctor?”
The sky was darker this time, Robin noticed, and the air bit rather than radiated. Great. Maybe I need to find someone else. There can’t be any danger here, can there? Loads of people go here.
She strolled on along the boulevard. Hedges were packed up along the walls to the side of her, and the walkway was separated by a long rectangular fountain. Before the separation, the water had danced; different shapes and different colours. Now it was just an organised puddle; the kind of thing that children, gamblers and idiots threw pennies into. She reached a staircase and climbed it. It led to a smaller viewing platform with a friendlier-looking machine.
She adjusted a microphone next to the screen. “H-Hello?” she asked, speaking into it. “Can I have, um, can I have some assistance or something?”
“Gahahaa vaataatranta laraslaar,” replied the interface with startling aggression.
“Okay…” She started back down the steps. That was a waste of time.
***
“Le Bassin Aux Nymphéas,” remarked the Doctor, impressed, as he gazed up at a painting of water-lilies. “Claude Monet. No… that was missing. I’m sure that went missing. Twenty-third century, stolen. The vanishing painting.”
He held his hand up to the painting, wanting to stroke it but holding back.
“Oh, look at you. I can see why they loved you.”
***
Robin slowly opened the door leading back into the hall. The cold interior of the hall was bitter, now; like a church as opposed to a naturally-cooled exhibition room. In fact, many traces of an exhibition room had gone. Some waxworks were missing from their plinths and the lights shone a dull yellow.
They flickered, causing Robin to blink.
The waxworks have moved.
No… it’s just your eyes, playing tricks on you.
The lights flickered again, and a masked pirate stood behind her, a stiff arm raised to her neck. She looked him in the eye.
“But you’re – you’re just a waxwork.”
There was a growl. A single, rumbling growl which reverberated around the hall. Robin glanced over to where the bear had once stood. The plinth was empty.
She ran.
The doors wouldn’t budge now, and the tainted glass was completely black. She kicked it until it smashed and climbed through the gap. Night had fallen outside. Robin felt the blood on the back of her neck where the glass had cut it.
“Ah, hello!”
Robin jumped.
“Don’t be scared,” said a small, ginger man in a top hat and chequered trousers. “I’m the Curator.” He offered a handshake.
“You’re the Curator and you’re here?”
“I’m the Curator and I’m everywhere!” he corrected. He spoke with over-exaggeration, both in his placing of emphasis and body language. He was a caricature. “Did you know, I exist in every time-stream? I am omnipresent among the museum. I saw you signalled assistance but the interface was playing up. I must apologise. How may I help you?”
“Well-“
As the curator turned, Robin noticed the figure of the bear looming over him. It barred its fangs.
Robin had never seen a man devoured whole before. When she thought about it later, she hadn’t seen anything devoured whole, apart from those M&S bites her adoptive father would eat on Saturdays. So to see a man swallowed and chewed within a few seconds, a bloody limb hanging from the creature’s jaw, was a brand new experience, and not one which she’d ever hope to relive.
She turned and continued running, her footsteps noisy enough to, thankfully, drown out the sound of chewing, crunching and the last echoes of screaming.
Falling against one of the trees, Robin stumbled. The tree fell and the wall crumbled. The boulevard was no longer a place of security – she looked down and realised that it too was elevated off the ground. Below her was an immeasurable drop into darkness.
The bear approached her.
Be devoured… or jump…
It fell and slumped to the ground. Robin sighed with relief and stepped forward quickly, embracing the Doctor in a warm hug.
“What did you do, you silly idiot?”
“I mixed our timelines,” admitted the Doctor. “Sorry about that.”
“So we’re going back to your stream now?”
“No.” The Doctor turned and directed Robin to a smaller, silver building in the distance. With no other choice, she followed him. “This time-stream is unique. This is the pure water, the core of the planet; the untouched dimension. This is where we’ll find all our answers.”
“Did you kill the bear?” asked Robin, randomly.
“Nope. Just a tranquiliser. But it was pretty weak already, and sort of abstract. There was something not quite right about it.”
They continued up to the building. Robin noticed there were some stars in the sky, but probably less than on Earth. She’d never have noticed the stars at all without meeting the Doctor. Now she looked up rather than down.
“Look at this,” said the Doctor leading her inside. He pointed at a lonely painting on the wall. Robin vaguely recognised it, recalling seeing it at the Tate Modern art museum. Nothing there had really made any kind of sense to her. “Monet’s water-lilies,” noted the Doctor, “and, I’m sure of it, one of history’s great vanishing paintings. Yet somehow it’s here, for all to see.”
“Is it real? It could be a fake,” suggested Robin.
“That’s what I’m about to check.” He pressed dark, flashing clamps against the white walls, either side of the painting. They stuck in place. “They’re blockers – they’ll prevent the motion sensors from working.” He carefully lifted the painting off its place on the wall, handling it gently. “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”
“Cerscillus must have thought so, too,” added Robin. “This place is dedicated to her and the painting gets its own room.”
“It’s a big place. There’ll be lots of paintings with their own rooms.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” continued Robin, pushing the subject. “Were you and Cerscillus…? I mean, did you know her or something?”
“A bit.” The Doctor kept his sad old eyes on the painting. “I’m the most travelled man in the universe and she’s the most famous traveller. We bumped into each other a few times. We’d compare notes, that sort of thing. The last time I saw her she was searching for the natural formula to immortality. I told her she was mad but she persisted. That was when she left to go to the Organic Belt, and I never saw her again. Between you and me, that was what she was aiming for. A way to preserve life indefinitely.”
“Was she now?”
Two guards – bulky, identical, scowling men – cornered the Doctor and Robin. Roughly, one grabbed each traveller. The guard who held the Doctor took the painting in one hand.
“Be careful with that!” warned the Doctor.
The guard sneered.
***
The Doctor and Robin were pushed through glass doors, when the guards quickly loosened their grip. This new room was wide and airy like the rest of the museum, and even more extravagant. A grand chandelier hung from the painted ceiling. The Doctor noticed a slight swing on it, feeling the urge to rectify it with his sonic.
“Hello again.”
Robin gasped. It was the curator.
“You’re dead!” she cried.
“I believe people say ‘hello’ around these parts,” pointed out the Doctor.
“But I saw him earlier! He was devoured by that thing!”
“In one dimension, yes. But as I said, I’m omnipresent. Those rather unsavoury memories were merely transferred to this form.”
“The curator!” said the Doctor, finally understanding. “Hello. You’re shorter than I expected.”
“And you’re more Victorian than I expected. They told me you wore a technicolour dreamcoat.”
“They’re a bit behind. Mind telling me why you were expecting me in the first place?”
“I sent you the message on your psychic paper.” The curator sat down on a throne, lifting a glass of champagne. He took a sip. “We were due a security test so I employed you, knowing you were mad enough to oblige. I knew you’d attempt to take the painting, knowing it was impossible, and you gave me some great statistics on the security system, so thank you for that!” He chuckled to himself.
“This isn’t a joke,” answered the Doctor coldly. “Where did you get that painting?”
“Allow me to introduce my mother.” The curator lifted a tablet and scrolled sideways through his pictures. He held up a picture of Cerscillus’s shrine.
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes you do. That’s my mother. I am the son of Cerscillus, and the museum’s architect.” He flicked to another picture – a cluster of planets, orbiting a raging orange sun. “The Organic Belt,” he narrated. “My mother went there in pursuit of immortality – she was convinced, obsessed, with the idea that nature held some sort of key to immorality.”
“I know,” said the Doctor. “I spoke to her. Didn’t seem like her – I suppose she just realised how much more of the universe there was to see.”
“Oh, quite the opposite. My mother travelled everywhere but became aware of her own mortality. Physical death didn’t bother her – but she felt that her experiences shouldn’t die in a single moment. She wanted her memories to be preserved. So she investigated the immortality of the soul – and she found a formula, on a planet where the ecosystem was perfectly-balanced. She discovered a consciousness within the planet. The soul of the planet, if you like, was embedded in all the creatures.” He stood up. “Then came this place. My mother arrived home, ill and wearied by her experiences. Dying – but with a plan. She wanted everyone to see the universe in the way she had, so she devised this idea. A planet which acts as a transmitter upon itself. Her memories became manifest as exhibits – but the exhibits needed taming. That was why we added alterations to them. We had to turn them into waxworks to stop them from eating all the visitors!” He laughed again. “When my mother died, her consciousness was integrated with the nexus of the planet. All her memories live around us. That’s why you found the lost painting – she saw it and remembered it.”
“So that’s it, then?” The Doctor looked around with a new perspective. “Everything that died, here, in perfect form. But that’s the curse – it can never leave this world. It would turn to dust.” He shook his head. “And you, curator, are an insult to your mother’s legacy.”
The curator looked surprised. “I’m sorry?”
“Hiding away down here, getting me to do your dirty work? Champagne on a throne?” The Doctor snatched the glass. “That’s no way to maintain a legacy like hers.”
“That’s – sort of what I was coming on to.” The curator’s eyes flickered nervously. “I miss my mother. If her spirit exists her, surely there is a way of – well… restoring her? As an interface? Through a computer?”
“No.” The Doctor glared darkly. “She choose to live on in the spirit to give her body a bit of peace.” He turned to Robin, gesturing to prepare herself to leave. “I’m sorry, curator, but maybe she didn’t spend enough time with you. She was happy to die – she just wanted everyone else to live the life that she lived.”
“So that’s it?” he complained. “You can’t help me?”
“No.” The Doctor opened the door to leave. “I won’t help you.”
“Why were you so hard on him? He only wanted to talk to his mother.”
“Tough love?” The Doctor shook it off. “Come on. Back to the TARDIS. Or you can see some more museum, if you like. Thankfully we’re in the right time-stream this time.”
“Stop.”
Robin paused at a set of exhibits. One was a waxwork model – a man in Victorian attire with a fob watch around his neck and a charismatic smile on his face.
“She remembered,” said the Doctor, a tear forming in his eye. “I only met her once with this face, but she, she remembered…”
“The Doctor,” Robin read from an information sign, “is an unrecognised traveller through time and space, but was considered by Cerscillus as the greatest pioneer in the history of the universe. His influence remains visible by civilisations living in peace across the stars.” She stopped. “Is that what you do, Doctor? Do you really live your life like this every day?”
The Doctor nodded. Robin continued reading.
Robin got up, suddenly feeling fully awake. “Yes. Wait… how long was I asleep?”
“A while.” The Doctor glanced at the grandfather clock. “Oh, three hours. How time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Having… fun?”
The Doctor dashed over to the doors like an excited child. “Yes, fun! I did a bit of advanced reading on temporal mechanics, wrote the first chapter of a novel and texted Harper Lee some book ideas.”
Robin raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, okay,” confessed the Doctor, “I enjoy a bit of literature.” He slowly opened the door and light from outside flooded the dark room. A vivid white light that drew Robin towards it. As she got closer to the door, she could make out something outside. The Doctor held out his hand.
“Robin Moon – welcome to the universe.”
“Where…” she coughed, losing her breath. “Where are we?” She followed the Doctor who stepped out instinctively. As she stepped out, her hands found themselves resting on gold railings. The air was warm and filled with the same rich gold as the railings. Robin noticed she was stood on a circular platform; the only other things around her were the TARDIS and some sort of control-box.
She looked down and thanked herself that she wasn’t scared of heights. Below her was an enormous drop, overlooking a remarkable landscape of organised buildings and roads, shining gleaming bronze, silver and gold. There were some bright green landscapes with moving dots that must have been people.
“You know how when you want to travel somewhere, it’s because you’ve seen it on a calendar or something?” asked the Doctor. “Well, here we go. Nice starter, I thought. Welcome to the Museum.”
“The Museum?”
“The Museum. He pointed to the stretch of buildings. At the end of the horizon, they could just about make out the curvature of the planet. “So vast and so unique that it doesn’t need a name. The greatest collection of famous artefacts the universe has ever seen – a wonderful taster of what the universe has to offer.” The Doctor whipped two strips of paper out of his pocket, holding them up in the air with pride. “And we’ve got tickets!”
“So we’re…” Robin’s head was full of questions. She failed at organising them into a logical order. “We’re on a sort of observation deck?”
“Very good!” answered the Doctor, impressed, with an encouraging beam. “And you’re probably wondering why the whole place isn’t bursting.” He darted over to the control panel, operating it directly through the sonic screwdriver. “This place gets so busy that it exists across several dimensional planes. And time moves differently against the dimensional planes, so there are hundreds, thousands, of different time-streams, all operating at any one time – or two time, or, you know, whatever. But here’s the thing – it’s always about money. The richest and most recognised, they get a whole time-stream each. But I don’t want that for you. I think you should see the second richest.” He pocketed his sonic. “Stand over here.”
Robin drew her eyes away from the panorama and did as instructed. The Doctor flicked a switch and just like that, they’d moved.
They were at the doors to one of the golden buildings. When Robin strained her neck to look up, she could see the observation deck on which they’d arrived. She peered into the building through the glass doors. In front of the doors was a shrine, topped with a sculpture of a confident, short-haired petite woman.
“Cerscillus,” said the Doctor in introduction. “The greatest time pioneer who ever lived. This museum is dedicated to her. Everything you see in here, all of these artefacts, were witnessed by Cerscillus at some point during her long life. A life she didn’t waste a moment of.” The Doctor offered Cerscillus an imaginary salute in his mind’s eye. “She was, perhaps, the most accomplished woman in the universe.”
The door swung open as a pair of scaly silver-skinned creatures left. Their heads bulged unusually, encapsulated in glass domes like assets of a nineties science-fiction blockbuster.
“Their own oxygen supply,” said the Doctor, guessing Robin’s thoughts. “This place is sterilised but different species need different conditions. So for Health and Safety reasons, the Museum is obliged to provide the safest environment for individual species.”
“Health and Safety,” muttered Robin.
“They made me put railings in my TARDIS.”
Robin laughed.
The glass on the other side of the doors was darker. The hall was sonorous and somewhat intimidating, lined with waxworks and sculptures. Some, of strange alien birds, even balanced impossibly in the air.
“No one really knew that much about Cerscillus, in terms of her aims at least.” The Doctor’s voice echoed around the hall. “There were a lot of rumours that she spent her travels looking for something, and there are whole internet and externet forums dedicated to speculating exactly what that was. One of her last great ventures was to the Organic Belt; a cluster of planets all inhabited by primitive species. No one else had ever dared step foot on them before, and no one has since. These waxworks are all based on the photographs Cerscillus took and the descriptions she wrote.”
“That one looks like a bear,” observed Robin, pointing to one biped in its own corner. “But the mouth is curved differently.”
They continued to the end of the hall and exited at the other side. It had been cooler in the hall. The cool air was a relief; the sun bore a heavy influence outside.
The Doctor arrived at another box and knelt down, pulling out his sonic screwdriver again. A wire sparked and singed one of his eyebrows.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not expected of visitors,” commented Robin. “But you’re not just a visitor, are you? I can tell. Why are we really here?”
“Blimey, you’re clever! OK, so I lied a bit,” he said, rushing through his confession. “Basically I got a message on this thing.” He pulled out a wallet and waved it in front of Robin. “Psychic paper. Someone wants me to break in. ‘The Highest Authority’, apparently. Are you alright with that?”
“Well, I suppose I’d better be.” Robin crouched down to join him. “So, what are you doing?”
“I hate whoever’s doing this, but I want to get to the root of it and find out the truth. So I’m pulling apart time, separating the timelines. I’m removing all the temporal alterations. It’s like filtering a load of drinks together to get to pure water. In fact-“
He hit the machine with his fist, but harder than he’d anticipated. The sky fell dark.
“Oh. Whoops.”
Light came back as before, accompanied by silence. And Robin was gone.
“Separating the timelines. Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “I am such an idiot sometimes.”
He stroked a marble pillar, realising how it curved into the roof of the hall, thus supporting itself – a paradox.
“I hate whoever set me up, but I love whoever designed this architecture.” He talked to himself, but with the hope that someone else could hear.
***
“Doctor? Doctor?”
The sky was darker this time, Robin noticed, and the air bit rather than radiated. Great. Maybe I need to find someone else. There can’t be any danger here, can there? Loads of people go here.
She strolled on along the boulevard. Hedges were packed up along the walls to the side of her, and the walkway was separated by a long rectangular fountain. Before the separation, the water had danced; different shapes and different colours. Now it was just an organised puddle; the kind of thing that children, gamblers and idiots threw pennies into. She reached a staircase and climbed it. It led to a smaller viewing platform with a friendlier-looking machine.
She adjusted a microphone next to the screen. “H-Hello?” she asked, speaking into it. “Can I have, um, can I have some assistance or something?”
“Gahahaa vaataatranta laraslaar,” replied the interface with startling aggression.
“Okay…” She started back down the steps. That was a waste of time.
***
“Le Bassin Aux Nymphéas,” remarked the Doctor, impressed, as he gazed up at a painting of water-lilies. “Claude Monet. No… that was missing. I’m sure that went missing. Twenty-third century, stolen. The vanishing painting.”
He held his hand up to the painting, wanting to stroke it but holding back.
“Oh, look at you. I can see why they loved you.”
***
Robin slowly opened the door leading back into the hall. The cold interior of the hall was bitter, now; like a church as opposed to a naturally-cooled exhibition room. In fact, many traces of an exhibition room had gone. Some waxworks were missing from their plinths and the lights shone a dull yellow.
They flickered, causing Robin to blink.
The waxworks have moved.
No… it’s just your eyes, playing tricks on you.
The lights flickered again, and a masked pirate stood behind her, a stiff arm raised to her neck. She looked him in the eye.
“But you’re – you’re just a waxwork.”
There was a growl. A single, rumbling growl which reverberated around the hall. Robin glanced over to where the bear had once stood. The plinth was empty.
She ran.
The doors wouldn’t budge now, and the tainted glass was completely black. She kicked it until it smashed and climbed through the gap. Night had fallen outside. Robin felt the blood on the back of her neck where the glass had cut it.
“Ah, hello!”
Robin jumped.
“Don’t be scared,” said a small, ginger man in a top hat and chequered trousers. “I’m the Curator.” He offered a handshake.
“You’re the Curator and you’re here?”
“I’m the Curator and I’m everywhere!” he corrected. He spoke with over-exaggeration, both in his placing of emphasis and body language. He was a caricature. “Did you know, I exist in every time-stream? I am omnipresent among the museum. I saw you signalled assistance but the interface was playing up. I must apologise. How may I help you?”
“Well-“
As the curator turned, Robin noticed the figure of the bear looming over him. It barred its fangs.
Robin had never seen a man devoured whole before. When she thought about it later, she hadn’t seen anything devoured whole, apart from those M&S bites her adoptive father would eat on Saturdays. So to see a man swallowed and chewed within a few seconds, a bloody limb hanging from the creature’s jaw, was a brand new experience, and not one which she’d ever hope to relive.
She turned and continued running, her footsteps noisy enough to, thankfully, drown out the sound of chewing, crunching and the last echoes of screaming.
Falling against one of the trees, Robin stumbled. The tree fell and the wall crumbled. The boulevard was no longer a place of security – she looked down and realised that it too was elevated off the ground. Below her was an immeasurable drop into darkness.
The bear approached her.
Be devoured… or jump…
It fell and slumped to the ground. Robin sighed with relief and stepped forward quickly, embracing the Doctor in a warm hug.
“What did you do, you silly idiot?”
“I mixed our timelines,” admitted the Doctor. “Sorry about that.”
“So we’re going back to your stream now?”
“No.” The Doctor turned and directed Robin to a smaller, silver building in the distance. With no other choice, she followed him. “This time-stream is unique. This is the pure water, the core of the planet; the untouched dimension. This is where we’ll find all our answers.”
“Did you kill the bear?” asked Robin, randomly.
“Nope. Just a tranquiliser. But it was pretty weak already, and sort of abstract. There was something not quite right about it.”
They continued up to the building. Robin noticed there were some stars in the sky, but probably less than on Earth. She’d never have noticed the stars at all without meeting the Doctor. Now she looked up rather than down.
“Look at this,” said the Doctor leading her inside. He pointed at a lonely painting on the wall. Robin vaguely recognised it, recalling seeing it at the Tate Modern art museum. Nothing there had really made any kind of sense to her. “Monet’s water-lilies,” noted the Doctor, “and, I’m sure of it, one of history’s great vanishing paintings. Yet somehow it’s here, for all to see.”
“Is it real? It could be a fake,” suggested Robin.
“That’s what I’m about to check.” He pressed dark, flashing clamps against the white walls, either side of the painting. They stuck in place. “They’re blockers – they’ll prevent the motion sensors from working.” He carefully lifted the painting off its place on the wall, handling it gently. “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”
“Cerscillus must have thought so, too,” added Robin. “This place is dedicated to her and the painting gets its own room.”
“It’s a big place. There’ll be lots of paintings with their own rooms.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” continued Robin, pushing the subject. “Were you and Cerscillus…? I mean, did you know her or something?”
“A bit.” The Doctor kept his sad old eyes on the painting. “I’m the most travelled man in the universe and she’s the most famous traveller. We bumped into each other a few times. We’d compare notes, that sort of thing. The last time I saw her she was searching for the natural formula to immortality. I told her she was mad but she persisted. That was when she left to go to the Organic Belt, and I never saw her again. Between you and me, that was what she was aiming for. A way to preserve life indefinitely.”
“Was she now?”
Two guards – bulky, identical, scowling men – cornered the Doctor and Robin. Roughly, one grabbed each traveller. The guard who held the Doctor took the painting in one hand.
“Be careful with that!” warned the Doctor.
The guard sneered.
***
The Doctor and Robin were pushed through glass doors, when the guards quickly loosened their grip. This new room was wide and airy like the rest of the museum, and even more extravagant. A grand chandelier hung from the painted ceiling. The Doctor noticed a slight swing on it, feeling the urge to rectify it with his sonic.
“Hello again.”
Robin gasped. It was the curator.
“You’re dead!” she cried.
“I believe people say ‘hello’ around these parts,” pointed out the Doctor.
“But I saw him earlier! He was devoured by that thing!”
“In one dimension, yes. But as I said, I’m omnipresent. Those rather unsavoury memories were merely transferred to this form.”
“The curator!” said the Doctor, finally understanding. “Hello. You’re shorter than I expected.”
“And you’re more Victorian than I expected. They told me you wore a technicolour dreamcoat.”
“They’re a bit behind. Mind telling me why you were expecting me in the first place?”
“I sent you the message on your psychic paper.” The curator sat down on a throne, lifting a glass of champagne. He took a sip. “We were due a security test so I employed you, knowing you were mad enough to oblige. I knew you’d attempt to take the painting, knowing it was impossible, and you gave me some great statistics on the security system, so thank you for that!” He chuckled to himself.
“This isn’t a joke,” answered the Doctor coldly. “Where did you get that painting?”
“Allow me to introduce my mother.” The curator lifted a tablet and scrolled sideways through his pictures. He held up a picture of Cerscillus’s shrine.
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes you do. That’s my mother. I am the son of Cerscillus, and the museum’s architect.” He flicked to another picture – a cluster of planets, orbiting a raging orange sun. “The Organic Belt,” he narrated. “My mother went there in pursuit of immortality – she was convinced, obsessed, with the idea that nature held some sort of key to immorality.”
“I know,” said the Doctor. “I spoke to her. Didn’t seem like her – I suppose she just realised how much more of the universe there was to see.”
“Oh, quite the opposite. My mother travelled everywhere but became aware of her own mortality. Physical death didn’t bother her – but she felt that her experiences shouldn’t die in a single moment. She wanted her memories to be preserved. So she investigated the immortality of the soul – and she found a formula, on a planet where the ecosystem was perfectly-balanced. She discovered a consciousness within the planet. The soul of the planet, if you like, was embedded in all the creatures.” He stood up. “Then came this place. My mother arrived home, ill and wearied by her experiences. Dying – but with a plan. She wanted everyone to see the universe in the way she had, so she devised this idea. A planet which acts as a transmitter upon itself. Her memories became manifest as exhibits – but the exhibits needed taming. That was why we added alterations to them. We had to turn them into waxworks to stop them from eating all the visitors!” He laughed again. “When my mother died, her consciousness was integrated with the nexus of the planet. All her memories live around us. That’s why you found the lost painting – she saw it and remembered it.”
“So that’s it, then?” The Doctor looked around with a new perspective. “Everything that died, here, in perfect form. But that’s the curse – it can never leave this world. It would turn to dust.” He shook his head. “And you, curator, are an insult to your mother’s legacy.”
The curator looked surprised. “I’m sorry?”
“Hiding away down here, getting me to do your dirty work? Champagne on a throne?” The Doctor snatched the glass. “That’s no way to maintain a legacy like hers.”
“That’s – sort of what I was coming on to.” The curator’s eyes flickered nervously. “I miss my mother. If her spirit exists her, surely there is a way of – well… restoring her? As an interface? Through a computer?”
“No.” The Doctor glared darkly. “She choose to live on in the spirit to give her body a bit of peace.” He turned to Robin, gesturing to prepare herself to leave. “I’m sorry, curator, but maybe she didn’t spend enough time with you. She was happy to die – she just wanted everyone else to live the life that she lived.”
“So that’s it?” he complained. “You can’t help me?”
“No.” The Doctor opened the door to leave. “I won’t help you.”
“Why were you so hard on him? He only wanted to talk to his mother.”
“Tough love?” The Doctor shook it off. “Come on. Back to the TARDIS. Or you can see some more museum, if you like. Thankfully we’re in the right time-stream this time.”
“Stop.”
Robin paused at a set of exhibits. One was a waxwork model – a man in Victorian attire with a fob watch around his neck and a charismatic smile on his face.
“She remembered,” said the Doctor, a tear forming in his eye. “I only met her once with this face, but she, she remembered…”
“The Doctor,” Robin read from an information sign, “is an unrecognised traveller through time and space, but was considered by Cerscillus as the greatest pioneer in the history of the universe. His influence remains visible by civilisations living in peace across the stars.” She stopped. “Is that what you do, Doctor? Do you really live your life like this every day?”
The Doctor nodded. Robin continued reading.
“He is particularly known for taking young female companions on his travels.” She hid a flattered smile. The Doctor blushed. “The Doctor was born and raised on the Planet Gallifrey without parents, but grew to show more love than any parent ever showed for his child.” Robin raised an eyebrow. “He was said to have an estranged daughter who also became recognised as a space pioneer…” Her voice drifted off. “You were an orphan?”
The Doctor nodded again.
“It doesn’t mean no one can love you,” he added quietly.
“No,” said Robin, choosing not to speak about herself, but inside understanding every word the Doctor said. “No, it doesn’t.”
The Doctor lifted the water-lilies painting. Robin hadn’t even noticed he still had it, but was beginning to comprehend its beauty.
“Let me show you what Cerscillus saw,” he said.
***
“After everything I’ve shown you, Robin, it’s always important to see the smaller picture.” He led her across a bridge. The air smelt like a fresh November’s air. Robin knew on instinct it was Earth. Leaves were scattered across the riverside.
Water-lilies sat on the river, splashes forming around them and moisture collecting at the tips. They looked so open and inviting, in the way that flowers always did. A statement of development and life.
“Monet saw it,” said the Doctor. “So did Cerscillus. She travelled the whole universe, but she always preferred sights like this. Just because I show you the stars, it doesn’t mean that rivers or fallen leaves are any less important. Sometimes the smaller things are more beautiful because you see them for what they are. And sometimes you only have to look in front of you to see the greatest miracles the universe produces.”
He crossed the bridge, enjoying the feeling of his boots sinking into the mud. Robin studied the lilies.
“Who needs a museum?” pondered the Doctor. “You’ve got Planet Earth; the best gift of all. I’ve always loved Earth and I always will. It’s not like watching a star being born, it’s more special than that. It’s being a part of something.”
Robin looked at the water-lily, understanding that it was also a part of something.
“A cycle of birth, life and death. Of cruelty and kindness and, best of all, nature. That’s immortality, Robin.” He held out his hand, opening the TARDIS door with the other. “That’s what it really means to live forever.”
The Doctor nodded again.
“It doesn’t mean no one can love you,” he added quietly.
“No,” said Robin, choosing not to speak about herself, but inside understanding every word the Doctor said. “No, it doesn’t.”
The Doctor lifted the water-lilies painting. Robin hadn’t even noticed he still had it, but was beginning to comprehend its beauty.
“Let me show you what Cerscillus saw,” he said.
***
“After everything I’ve shown you, Robin, it’s always important to see the smaller picture.” He led her across a bridge. The air smelt like a fresh November’s air. Robin knew on instinct it was Earth. Leaves were scattered across the riverside.
Water-lilies sat on the river, splashes forming around them and moisture collecting at the tips. They looked so open and inviting, in the way that flowers always did. A statement of development and life.
“Monet saw it,” said the Doctor. “So did Cerscillus. She travelled the whole universe, but she always preferred sights like this. Just because I show you the stars, it doesn’t mean that rivers or fallen leaves are any less important. Sometimes the smaller things are more beautiful because you see them for what they are. And sometimes you only have to look in front of you to see the greatest miracles the universe produces.”
He crossed the bridge, enjoying the feeling of his boots sinking into the mud. Robin studied the lilies.
“Who needs a museum?” pondered the Doctor. “You’ve got Planet Earth; the best gift of all. I’ve always loved Earth and I always will. It’s not like watching a star being born, it’s more special than that. It’s being a part of something.”
Robin looked at the water-lily, understanding that it was also a part of something.
“A cycle of birth, life and death. Of cruelty and kindness and, best of all, nature. That’s immortality, Robin.” He held out his hand, opening the TARDIS door with the other. “That’s what it really means to live forever.”
|
|
Next Time
The Adulteress and Her Doctor
An unfortunate accident leads the Doctor and Robin to Tudor England, where history has taken the wrong course. Change isn't always easy, and sometimes monsters are better than the alternative... Episode list: 1. The Time Museum 2. The Adulteress and Her Doctor 3. Peacepoint 4. Earthstop 5. Sunset Forever 6. The Planet Makers 7. Who Watches The Watchmen? 8. The Anger Games 9. Extinction 10. The Quest Through Time 11. A Village Called Nothing 12. Bigger on the Inside 13. Extermination of the Daleks |