Previously
Jasmine got up and walked into the living room. She stopped still when she saw the man who stood there, by the door to her balcony, looking just as he had the last time she saw him.
The Doctor.
She stared at him, and he looked uncomfortably back, trying to extent sympathy or whatever that look on his face was. He was perfect, that was what annoyed her. He was wide awake, his hair was neatly-combed, his back was up straight, his eyes were tearless. It was like he didn’t even have the decency to grieve.
“There are no monsters on Earth,” quoted Jasmine, and shook her head. “You bastard.”
“Jasmine,” uttered the Doctor, and she finally heard something resembling sadness in his voice. “I am so sorry.”
“Sorry?” retorted Jasmine, feeling her heart beating in her chest. “You know, people who are ‘sorry’ don’t make the same mistakes over and over again. Why did you do it Doctor, hmm? Why did you have to take him with you? You saw that perfect life of his, that future, and thought, no, no human would ever be capable of that alone. It must be me, you thought, I must make him into that hero, that visionary of humankind’s future. But because of you, he met me, he ended up on that street, and he… died.”
Even now, even after all this, she still did not believe it.
“He died, Doctor, because you couldn’t leave well enough alone, you couldn’t accept that one person was capable of changing the world. You played God, and you killed him, and I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anyone in my life.” She walked up to him, not caring about those extra inches he had on her height. “You destroyed our future, you destroyed my life, and you destroyed the most precious being that ever walked this Earth. And you’re sorry.”
The Doctor said nothing.
“Why do you always have to know best?” cried Jasmine. “Why do you always have to come here, do this? Why can’t you just leave us alone?”
At last, the Doctor was crying. Tears rolling down his cheeks, he clenched his quivering jaw shut.
“I wish I’d never followed that past of mine. I wish I’d never joined UNIT. I wish Autumn had finished you off all those years ago when she first had the chance! I hate you! I wish…”
And that was it. Her words were expended, her voice was finished, and her soul had given up. It had been crushed and stamped on, had made one last stab, and had succeeded. She had run out of strength, and she fell onto the Doctor, resting her head on his shoulder as he embraced her after everything.
They both stood completely still, while the world outside continued to move.
Two old friends, together. And both of them alone.
The Doctor.
She stared at him, and he looked uncomfortably back, trying to extent sympathy or whatever that look on his face was. He was perfect, that was what annoyed her. He was wide awake, his hair was neatly-combed, his back was up straight, his eyes were tearless. It was like he didn’t even have the decency to grieve.
“There are no monsters on Earth,” quoted Jasmine, and shook her head. “You bastard.”
“Jasmine,” uttered the Doctor, and she finally heard something resembling sadness in his voice. “I am so sorry.”
“Sorry?” retorted Jasmine, feeling her heart beating in her chest. “You know, people who are ‘sorry’ don’t make the same mistakes over and over again. Why did you do it Doctor, hmm? Why did you have to take him with you? You saw that perfect life of his, that future, and thought, no, no human would ever be capable of that alone. It must be me, you thought, I must make him into that hero, that visionary of humankind’s future. But because of you, he met me, he ended up on that street, and he… died.”
Even now, even after all this, she still did not believe it.
“He died, Doctor, because you couldn’t leave well enough alone, you couldn’t accept that one person was capable of changing the world. You played God, and you killed him, and I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anyone in my life.” She walked up to him, not caring about those extra inches he had on her height. “You destroyed our future, you destroyed my life, and you destroyed the most precious being that ever walked this Earth. And you’re sorry.”
The Doctor said nothing.
“Why do you always have to know best?” cried Jasmine. “Why do you always have to come here, do this? Why can’t you just leave us alone?”
At last, the Doctor was crying. Tears rolling down his cheeks, he clenched his quivering jaw shut.
“I wish I’d never followed that past of mine. I wish I’d never joined UNIT. I wish Autumn had finished you off all those years ago when she first had the chance! I hate you! I wish…”
And that was it. Her words were expended, her voice was finished, and her soul had given up. It had been crushed and stamped on, had made one last stab, and had succeeded. She had run out of strength, and she fell onto the Doctor, resting her head on his shoulder as he embraced her after everything.
They both stood completely still, while the world outside continued to move.
Two old friends, together. And both of them alone.
Prologue
“Where do we go from here?”
Jasmine had not let go. Some time had passed – seconds, maybe longer. The Doctor had not moved. The roaring traffic outside had lowered to a hum, and the washing machine had finished its spin.
The world waited, and Jasmine felt it.
“I have something to show you,” the Doctor murmured, just as he always did when it took a little more than the click of his fingers to get her inside the TARDIS. She resisted the urge to punch him. “God found me again. He took me somewhere. I want you to come with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you again,” said Jasmine. “It doesn’t matter what you tell me.”
“It does. This time, it does.” He stepped away and over to the TARDIS, in the corner of the room. He gripped the handle like an excited child, like a young Gallifreyan who had seen one for the first time and imagined himself as one of those far-flung, mythological heroes.
Or as Jasmine Sparks sensed at that moment, in fewer words, something had changed.
“It’s time, Jasmine,” said the Doctor, and gestured for her to follow him. “I made mistakes, you returned, you loved, you lost, you grieved. But now it’s time to end it – we’re going to bring Tommy back.”
Jasmine had not let go. Some time had passed – seconds, maybe longer. The Doctor had not moved. The roaring traffic outside had lowered to a hum, and the washing machine had finished its spin.
The world waited, and Jasmine felt it.
“I have something to show you,” the Doctor murmured, just as he always did when it took a little more than the click of his fingers to get her inside the TARDIS. She resisted the urge to punch him. “God found me again. He took me somewhere. I want you to come with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you again,” said Jasmine. “It doesn’t matter what you tell me.”
“It does. This time, it does.” He stepped away and over to the TARDIS, in the corner of the room. He gripped the handle like an excited child, like a young Gallifreyan who had seen one for the first time and imagined himself as one of those far-flung, mythological heroes.
Or as Jasmine Sparks sensed at that moment, in fewer words, something had changed.
“It’s time, Jasmine,” said the Doctor, and gestured for her to follow him. “I made mistakes, you returned, you loved, you lost, you grieved. But now it’s time to end it – we’re going to bring Tommy back.”
The Eighth Doctor Adventures
Series 4 - Episode 14
Paradise Found
Written by Janine Rivers
One week ago in the Doctor’s timeline
The Doctor knew that God could have taken him where he wanted in an instant: linked arms or something, disappeared in a rush of smoke, and appeared on the other side of the universe like something from a Harry Potter novel. God was omnipotent. The Doctor did not understand the term, could not comprehend the implications of being all-powerful, but put in simple terms: anything could be accomplished using the right means, and God, being the author of all those means, had access to any of them.
But God had insisted on using the TARDIS, piloting it smoothly and effortlessly through the time vortex. The vortex must have been like a village road to him; straightforward and twee, but requiring him to drive slowly so as not to hurt any of the little children who might have played on it.
He parked it, almost instantaneously. The Doctor tried not to show his jealousy. God walked over to the door, and pushed it slowly open.
The Doctor blinked as pure, unpolluted sunlight flooded in through the entrance of his ship.
Present Day
“I don’t understand,” said Jasmine. “You can’t do things like that. I mean… you wouldn’t do things like that.” She took her scarf off and slung it on a pile of books, before cursing herself. She was moving in again already. “Not even for Tommy. I remember the rules. I remember you teaching me them.”
“The rules changed,” said the Doctor, ignoring her as he piloted the TARDIS. “God showed me something and now I don’t know… don’t know what to think or what the rules are.” The TARDIS lurched. “Everything I thought I knew about him, about the universe… and now even what I thought I knew about myself…”
He was flustered; dashing about, trying to be something he wasn’t, dancing energetically around the console unit but definitely not enjoying it.
“Are we actually going to bring him back?” asked Jasmine. “I don’t mean in your terms, I mean… we’re not just going back in time, are we? Or to an alternate universe? I need to know that you’re talking about our Tommy. The Tommy who died on that street in the middle of the night, who now for whatever reason won’t have died, will have carried on walking instead. That is what you mean, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said the Doctor. He still would not make eye contact.
***
The Doctor stepped closer to the door, his eyes still adjusting. God was unaffected, practically bathing in the showers of white and gold from outside. Getting closer, the Doctor could see beyond the spectacle, and made out the world from which the light had come.
They had arrived in a garden of some kind. Luscious green grass, perfectly-trimmed, formed a lawn in front of them. On each side, a concrete path was raised, along which ran marble walls, adorned with carvings and patterns. At the end of the lawn was a resplendent structure, supported by pillars and spanning the whole length of the walkway as well as reaching a few floors in height.
It was just one building of many, and even the garden seemed to hold no significance. The pastoral expanses went on forever, and were dotted by hundreds of people, some walking together and others apart, each looking healthy, sanguine, and fulfilled.
God reached out and smiled. A few of the people nodded to him, tipping their hats, and at last God spoke.
“Welcome to Heaven.”
***
Jasmine reached her hand up to the branch of a tree that cast a shadow over the TARDIS. A butterfly, of perfect symmetry and with intricate auburn patterns, landed gently on her finger, fluttering its weightless wings. Those things usually flew off, Jasmine thought. She was sure someone had told her once that if you touched the wing of a butterfly, you killed it.
The air was warm, but somehow not hot. The sun blazed above them, and Jasmine felt it on her skin, but for once experienced that impossible midway point between hiding in the shade and burning in the sun. Its rays seemed to touch her, but rest calmly on her arms, just as the butterfly had, rather than searing through her.
Something was different here. The things that should have hurt you here could not, yet still they were here. The things she hated, or felt impartial to, were beautiful. After sleepless hours, she was wide awake again. And somehow, in the haze of this terrible night, she found herself feeling happy.
Maybe this was Heaven. A release. She liked that. The thought of just dying, of giving up and surrendering to this storybook place… it was wrong, in a way, but it certainly had its appeal.
“How does it work?” she found herself asking, searching for the hidden springs or mirrors.
The Doctor smiled ruefully at her cynicism. “Like Heaven,” he answered, in a comparison so direct that it could not be refuted. “God had to wait before I could see this. I wasn’t ready… but after everything with you and Tommy – Gallifrey, that planet I made, losing Tommy, losing you -- I knew what it felt like, to be a God, and he knew it was finally time for me to know. So he took me here.”
“Am I…” Jasmine faltered. “Am I dead? Are we, I mean, are we dead?”
She wondered, for one moment, whether it all had become too much. Perhaps she had never come home from that walk; the old man who had helped her had just been a hallucination, preparing her for the inevitable. She might have died on that road, and by now Sheila would be finding out.
No. I’d never do that to you, Nan. I’d never let you mourn me.
“We’re not dead,” said the Doctor, and Jasmine sighed with relief. “This is a real, physical place. It’s a complex piece of engineering, existing across and beyond time, and originating in the Eighth Great and Bountiful Human Empire. How were you feeling before you arrived here?”
“Bloody awful. Miserable, tired, aching, headaches…”
“And now?”
“Absolutely fantastic,” Jasmine admitted. “Happy for no reason, wide awake, relaxed… my head’s clear, I’m almost tingling.”
“Nanogenes!” cried the Doctor, with such passion that Jasmine nearly leapt out of her skin. “There are nanogenes in the air around us. They keep everyone here at an optimum point of heath, clearing up anything, however minor. That’s every cell in your body, which means that age is also fixed. No one grows old here, and the old grow young.”
“And everyone else here, are they…?”
“Dead?” The Doctor shrugged. “Yes, in a manner of speaking. On the moment of death, God extracts their consciousness and transplants it into a new version of their body, which he can practically shape like clay.”
“He couldn’t do that for Autumn,” muttered Jasmine.
“That was because I upset him. But this… this is his game plan. So far there are nine hundred billion residents here. Once God has extracted everyone who has ever died, there will be an inconceivable number. Heaven will expand, as it does naturally, and they will live over and over, in a loop, with the people they love.”
“That’s lovely,” said Jasmine, not completely sure yet if it was. “But why did he decide to show you?”
“I’m one of the most important people in the universe,” the Doctor said modestly. “And he lives by his promise of free will. He wanted to ask my permission.”
***
“No!” the Doctor shouted, furiously. “Absolutely not!”
“But think, Doctor!” urged God, as if the Time Lord were not already thinking. “Think of all the death, all the injustice. At long last, all will be resolved, all will be restored!”
“Yay! All the mass-murderers together, God, having tea and biscuits with their victims, great idea!”
One man walked past and almost glared, but instead smiled warmly, and nodded at the TARDIS. He was probably a mass-murderer, once, the Doctor thought.
“Truth illuminates all,” explained God. “And everyone here is of a calm temperament. All mistakes are absolved. You’re being cynical.”
“No.” The Doctor shook his head. “You are the one being cynical. You think their lives are worthless just because they’re fleeting? That one life is not enough? Tell me, would the people here appreciate life? Would they ever think of how lucky they are, how precious what they have is, if it lasts forever and has no limits? You’ll end up with zombies, and zombies may as well be dead!”
“They will appreciate it, Doctor, and they do!” God kept his voice low, so that none of the people in the park could hear his summary of their existences. “They have all felt death, and none wishes to feel it again. They are all in the place they most want to be, with the people they most love, and have infinity to explore and learn and to meet new people to love and spend time with. But you’d never understand that, would you? You’d never understand the appeal of staying somewhere.”
“No,” repeated the Doctor. “No, no, no, and I will never change my stance on this, not until the day I die, and even then I do not expect to wake up here!” He turned back to his TARDIS. “You do not have my permission.”
“Not yet,” God said to himself, smiling. “Not yet…”
***
“I’m going to give him permission,” said the Doctor. “And I’m going to have Tommy brought here. You can spend an eternity together – that’s how much I owe you.”
Jasmine wanted to say something, something she did not have the words for – a kind of gratitude which could not be limited to a few utterances. But her line of thought was interrupted, as God strode up to them in an almost comical pinstriped suit and hat, twirling a walking-stick through the air like a character from a West End musical.
“Doctor!” he exclaimed, feigning surprise. “How wonderful it is to see you back.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” said the Doctor, not sounding too happy about it. “You can go ahead.”
“Really?” God almost seemed to be rubbing it in.
“Really.” He walked straight past Jasmine, almost ignoring her, and gestured to the corner of the park where they could converse quietly.
“What caused this?” questioned God, sotto voce.
“I told you no because I thought this was wrong,” the Doctor explained sadly. “In truth, I don’t know what I think. But sometimes it’s not a matter of what’s right and wrong, it’s a matter of what you can stand.” He looked back at Jasmine for a moment, until she tried looking at him; then, he turned back. “Tommy’s dead,” said the Doctor, trying to keep a stiff upper lip. “And… I can’t stand looking at her. I know if I look into her eyes for less than a second, if I see the pain in them and know that I have the power to change it, I’ll never be able to live with myself. So I can’t go on like this. I want her to be happy – and I want to be able to look her in the eye again.”
God clapped the Time Lord on the back firmly. “You’ve made the right choice, Doctor. You won’t regret this.”
“I’m sure I won’t.”
***
The Doctor knew that God could have taken him where he wanted in an instant: linked arms or something, disappeared in a rush of smoke, and appeared on the other side of the universe like something from a Harry Potter novel. God was omnipotent. The Doctor did not understand the term, could not comprehend the implications of being all-powerful, but put in simple terms: anything could be accomplished using the right means, and God, being the author of all those means, had access to any of them.
But God had insisted on using the TARDIS, piloting it smoothly and effortlessly through the time vortex. The vortex must have been like a village road to him; straightforward and twee, but requiring him to drive slowly so as not to hurt any of the little children who might have played on it.
He parked it, almost instantaneously. The Doctor tried not to show his jealousy. God walked over to the door, and pushed it slowly open.
The Doctor blinked as pure, unpolluted sunlight flooded in through the entrance of his ship.
Present Day
“I don’t understand,” said Jasmine. “You can’t do things like that. I mean… you wouldn’t do things like that.” She took her scarf off and slung it on a pile of books, before cursing herself. She was moving in again already. “Not even for Tommy. I remember the rules. I remember you teaching me them.”
“The rules changed,” said the Doctor, ignoring her as he piloted the TARDIS. “God showed me something and now I don’t know… don’t know what to think or what the rules are.” The TARDIS lurched. “Everything I thought I knew about him, about the universe… and now even what I thought I knew about myself…”
He was flustered; dashing about, trying to be something he wasn’t, dancing energetically around the console unit but definitely not enjoying it.
“Are we actually going to bring him back?” asked Jasmine. “I don’t mean in your terms, I mean… we’re not just going back in time, are we? Or to an alternate universe? I need to know that you’re talking about our Tommy. The Tommy who died on that street in the middle of the night, who now for whatever reason won’t have died, will have carried on walking instead. That is what you mean, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said the Doctor. He still would not make eye contact.
***
The Doctor stepped closer to the door, his eyes still adjusting. God was unaffected, practically bathing in the showers of white and gold from outside. Getting closer, the Doctor could see beyond the spectacle, and made out the world from which the light had come.
They had arrived in a garden of some kind. Luscious green grass, perfectly-trimmed, formed a lawn in front of them. On each side, a concrete path was raised, along which ran marble walls, adorned with carvings and patterns. At the end of the lawn was a resplendent structure, supported by pillars and spanning the whole length of the walkway as well as reaching a few floors in height.
It was just one building of many, and even the garden seemed to hold no significance. The pastoral expanses went on forever, and were dotted by hundreds of people, some walking together and others apart, each looking healthy, sanguine, and fulfilled.
God reached out and smiled. A few of the people nodded to him, tipping their hats, and at last God spoke.
“Welcome to Heaven.”
***
Jasmine reached her hand up to the branch of a tree that cast a shadow over the TARDIS. A butterfly, of perfect symmetry and with intricate auburn patterns, landed gently on her finger, fluttering its weightless wings. Those things usually flew off, Jasmine thought. She was sure someone had told her once that if you touched the wing of a butterfly, you killed it.
The air was warm, but somehow not hot. The sun blazed above them, and Jasmine felt it on her skin, but for once experienced that impossible midway point between hiding in the shade and burning in the sun. Its rays seemed to touch her, but rest calmly on her arms, just as the butterfly had, rather than searing through her.
Something was different here. The things that should have hurt you here could not, yet still they were here. The things she hated, or felt impartial to, were beautiful. After sleepless hours, she was wide awake again. And somehow, in the haze of this terrible night, she found herself feeling happy.
Maybe this was Heaven. A release. She liked that. The thought of just dying, of giving up and surrendering to this storybook place… it was wrong, in a way, but it certainly had its appeal.
“How does it work?” she found herself asking, searching for the hidden springs or mirrors.
The Doctor smiled ruefully at her cynicism. “Like Heaven,” he answered, in a comparison so direct that it could not be refuted. “God had to wait before I could see this. I wasn’t ready… but after everything with you and Tommy – Gallifrey, that planet I made, losing Tommy, losing you -- I knew what it felt like, to be a God, and he knew it was finally time for me to know. So he took me here.”
“Am I…” Jasmine faltered. “Am I dead? Are we, I mean, are we dead?”
She wondered, for one moment, whether it all had become too much. Perhaps she had never come home from that walk; the old man who had helped her had just been a hallucination, preparing her for the inevitable. She might have died on that road, and by now Sheila would be finding out.
No. I’d never do that to you, Nan. I’d never let you mourn me.
“We’re not dead,” said the Doctor, and Jasmine sighed with relief. “This is a real, physical place. It’s a complex piece of engineering, existing across and beyond time, and originating in the Eighth Great and Bountiful Human Empire. How were you feeling before you arrived here?”
“Bloody awful. Miserable, tired, aching, headaches…”
“And now?”
“Absolutely fantastic,” Jasmine admitted. “Happy for no reason, wide awake, relaxed… my head’s clear, I’m almost tingling.”
“Nanogenes!” cried the Doctor, with such passion that Jasmine nearly leapt out of her skin. “There are nanogenes in the air around us. They keep everyone here at an optimum point of heath, clearing up anything, however minor. That’s every cell in your body, which means that age is also fixed. No one grows old here, and the old grow young.”
“And everyone else here, are they…?”
“Dead?” The Doctor shrugged. “Yes, in a manner of speaking. On the moment of death, God extracts their consciousness and transplants it into a new version of their body, which he can practically shape like clay.”
“He couldn’t do that for Autumn,” muttered Jasmine.
“That was because I upset him. But this… this is his game plan. So far there are nine hundred billion residents here. Once God has extracted everyone who has ever died, there will be an inconceivable number. Heaven will expand, as it does naturally, and they will live over and over, in a loop, with the people they love.”
“That’s lovely,” said Jasmine, not completely sure yet if it was. “But why did he decide to show you?”
“I’m one of the most important people in the universe,” the Doctor said modestly. “And he lives by his promise of free will. He wanted to ask my permission.”
***
“No!” the Doctor shouted, furiously. “Absolutely not!”
“But think, Doctor!” urged God, as if the Time Lord were not already thinking. “Think of all the death, all the injustice. At long last, all will be resolved, all will be restored!”
“Yay! All the mass-murderers together, God, having tea and biscuits with their victims, great idea!”
One man walked past and almost glared, but instead smiled warmly, and nodded at the TARDIS. He was probably a mass-murderer, once, the Doctor thought.
“Truth illuminates all,” explained God. “And everyone here is of a calm temperament. All mistakes are absolved. You’re being cynical.”
“No.” The Doctor shook his head. “You are the one being cynical. You think their lives are worthless just because they’re fleeting? That one life is not enough? Tell me, would the people here appreciate life? Would they ever think of how lucky they are, how precious what they have is, if it lasts forever and has no limits? You’ll end up with zombies, and zombies may as well be dead!”
“They will appreciate it, Doctor, and they do!” God kept his voice low, so that none of the people in the park could hear his summary of their existences. “They have all felt death, and none wishes to feel it again. They are all in the place they most want to be, with the people they most love, and have infinity to explore and learn and to meet new people to love and spend time with. But you’d never understand that, would you? You’d never understand the appeal of staying somewhere.”
“No,” repeated the Doctor. “No, no, no, and I will never change my stance on this, not until the day I die, and even then I do not expect to wake up here!” He turned back to his TARDIS. “You do not have my permission.”
“Not yet,” God said to himself, smiling. “Not yet…”
***
“I’m going to give him permission,” said the Doctor. “And I’m going to have Tommy brought here. You can spend an eternity together – that’s how much I owe you.”
Jasmine wanted to say something, something she did not have the words for – a kind of gratitude which could not be limited to a few utterances. But her line of thought was interrupted, as God strode up to them in an almost comical pinstriped suit and hat, twirling a walking-stick through the air like a character from a West End musical.
“Doctor!” he exclaimed, feigning surprise. “How wonderful it is to see you back.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” said the Doctor, not sounding too happy about it. “You can go ahead.”
“Really?” God almost seemed to be rubbing it in.
“Really.” He walked straight past Jasmine, almost ignoring her, and gestured to the corner of the park where they could converse quietly.
“What caused this?” questioned God, sotto voce.
“I told you no because I thought this was wrong,” the Doctor explained sadly. “In truth, I don’t know what I think. But sometimes it’s not a matter of what’s right and wrong, it’s a matter of what you can stand.” He looked back at Jasmine for a moment, until she tried looking at him; then, he turned back. “Tommy’s dead,” said the Doctor, trying to keep a stiff upper lip. “And… I can’t stand looking at her. I know if I look into her eyes for less than a second, if I see the pain in them and know that I have the power to change it, I’ll never be able to live with myself. So I can’t go on like this. I want her to be happy – and I want to be able to look her in the eye again.”
God clapped the Time Lord on the back firmly. “You’ve made the right choice, Doctor. You won’t regret this.”
“I’m sure I won’t.”
***
There was endless room in Heaven, Jasmine was told, and so the majority of people ended up opting for the middle-class lifestyle – somewhere larger than what they were used to, but not so large as to lose its sense of comfort and intimacy.
Of course, there was no middle class. There were no classes at all, far from the hierarchical interpretations of the afterlife Jasmine had been used to on Earth. She recalled the times she had indulged in a more luxurious standard of living, when Sheila had fished more out of her pension and treated her adopted granddaughter to a four-star holiday or something else. Jasmine always felt guilty, guilty that she could live that way when others could not, guilty that that money did not go on someone else.
That, she realised now, was Heaven: being able to experience the maximum pleasure conceivable with the absence of guilt. Maybe they’d even have a Wi-Fi connection that would stay stable for more than an hour, but that could be asking too much.
She considered again her new home: a sleek, ultramodern piece of architecture, sloping over an empty but well-trimmed hill. She was in the living-room now, staring intensely at the clinically pale walls. Clicking her fingers and thinking of home, she discovered something impossible.
The cream walls were replaced in an instant not just by a new pattern, but a whole new vista. A window appeared, and beyond it a world – not just some quickly-generated artwork, but a whole world. She gazed at it in disbelief, as she watched the cars and the people on the streets, heard the sounds of crowds and honking horns outside, almost felt the breeze drifting in through the balcony doors.
She was back in Croydon, in Sheila’s apartment. In seconds, Sheila would be walking up behind her, offering her a hug and telling her that she was right about everything, that it did all work out in the end.
Jasmine closed her eyes again, and when she opened them the windows had changed again. A layer of dust covered the furniture which was otherwise unchanged, and one thin window displayed a striking panorama of Gallifrey, a sky swirling like lava against a gleaming, vibrant, citadel.
She closed her eyes one more time, and the room returned to normal. She would learn to control it, and would no doubt settle on a theme. It was overwhelming, but she found herself grinning. All of this was terribly fun.
The lights switched on. Night had fallen in Paradise.
She walked into her bedroom, sighing. It was round, and in a similar style to the rest of the house. A door invited her onto a balcony overlooking the hills, and in the centre of the room was a double-bed, configured symmetrically with two bedside tables, two supporting cushions, two…
Two of us.
Jasmine felt another tear. It had been a long day. She had only just accepted that he was dead, and now she had to accept something even greater: that he could come back.
There was a tuft in the duvet out of line on what would be Tommy’s side of the bed. She adjusted it instinctively, and patted it as she tucked it back in. She ran her hand over the pillow, and closed her eyes again.
Maybe, just maybe, if she thought about it hard enough, he would appear here now, and she would not have to wait a second longer.
Jasmine. I’m… I’m back.
Yes, you are, she would say. We brought you back, together. So that we could spend our lives… together.
I don’t understand, he would reply. He always looked so beautiful when he didn’t understand, which was a sad thing really, since that was how he died.
You don’t need to understand, Jasmine would explain. You just need to say yes. Yes, and this bed is ours. Yes, and no one ever has to suffer again. You don’t owe anyone anything anymore, Tommy. You don’t have to become Prime Minister, you don’t have to save the world. While you were gone, the world was already saved, and all you have to do now is watch.
We saved the world for you.
She wasn’t sure how his end of the conversation would go after that.
Wiping her eyes, she opened the doors to the balcony, and was greeted by a welcome gust of warm air. The Doctor was watching over the world below, calmly and expectantly, like an angel at a visitation.
The balcony no longer overlooked the hills – either the Doctor or Jasmine must have shifted it, subconsciously, their hearts commanding another landscape. The bedroom was raised far above the ground now, and below them was an alien city, all spires, different shades of silver, and bridges twisting over pure blue waters. A city waking up in time for the night. And above them…
Stars, galaxies, planets, moons, meteorites. Some still, some moving, forming complex patterns, a theatrical re-enactment for the night owls of this world.
Perhaps these weren’t holograms – perhaps they were real. Jasmine struggled to imagine stars that weren’t.
“Join me,” said the Doctor, and invited Jasmine to watch over the city with him. The sounds, all competing and dying to be heard, were reduced to a hum this high up. “You’ve imagined this place well.”
“It keeps giving me what I want to see,” said Jasmine, before adding: “I don’t know if I want what I want.”
The Doctor smiled. “You’ll get used to it. Heaven’s just adapting itself for you, just as much as you’re adapting yourself for it.”
Jasmine nodded. “It doesn’t seem very you, this whole Heaven thing. It seems like it’s the kind of thing you’d be against.”
“It is,” admitted the Doctor. “But all I’ve made are bad decisions, and I’ve had to live with them. I’ve learnt not to trust my own instincts. Besides, look at this place.” He watched a boat crossing the pseudo-Thames. “It’s beautiful.” He bowed his head. “I wish I could stay.”
“You can! We can make room for you, or you can… I don’t know, live on your own.”
The Doctor laughed. “Oh, Jasmine, outside of Heaven there are some very bad things going on, things I’m not prepared to walk out on. The universe still needs me.”
“Okay.” There was no point in arguing; the Doctor had a tendency to make his mind up about this kind of thing. “But come back and visit us, yeah? We’ll miss you, and you can’t have people being sad in Heaven.”
The Doctor turned to Jasmine at last, and she realised how much she had longed to see those deep, ancient eyes again.
“I can’t.”
“You can!” Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Doctor, you should have learnt from last time. You can’t drop us off dramatically and never come back, it doesn’t work! This is the real world.”
“Yes it is, Jasmine. Yes it is.”
Something was wrong. The Doctor was…
“And because this isn’t a fairy-tale, I can’t ever see you again.”
He was. He was crying.
“Wait, what? What do you mean?”
“This place is caught in a temporal loop – it’s constantly re-writing its own history.” He brushed the explanation aside. “That’s just how it works, how it can last for eternity and not age with the rest of the universe. It’s trapped in one second, in a way, repeating over and over, different each time. The only person with free movement is God, because he’s able to exist in every second at once.”
“Okay…” Jasmine may have missed the Doctor, but she remembered then how little she missed school, specifically Physics lessons.
“I was able to materialise the TARDIS here, and God was able to find me. But when I leave, this place will become inaccessible to me. I can’t keep track of time here like I can everywhere else; I can’t keep a steady hold. Which means…” his voice cracked. “I can never come back here for you.”
“No.” Jasmine grabbed his hand. He wasn’t going back inside again, not ever. “No, Doctor, you listen to me now. All those things I said to you, I was angry, I was…”
“I know.” The Doctor did his best to smile. “I would have done the same.”
“No you wouldn’t, you would never have done what I did. This isn’t Heaven, Doctor, if you’re not here.”
“Tommy’s here,” replied the Doctor. “We both know that makes it Heaven.” He looked back to Jasmine, and clasped both of her hands in his. They both ignored the city below, to the extent that it began to fade, the illusion no longer necessary. “Jasmine,” he said, his voice desperate. “I’m going to make up for it, all of it, all of the mistakes. I’m going to bring back Tommy, bring back your parents, bring back everyone… I’m going to make it all right. And in return I want you to do one thing for me, just one.”
Jasmine nodded.
“Let me go,” the Doctor uttered. “I don’t mean let me leave, I mean… let go. Don’t turn Heaven into a graveyard. Be happy, for me, when I can’t be.”
“I can’t let you go back,” said Jasmine, shaking her head. “I can’t do that to you. The universe is too cruel.”
“I know. I know I’ll suffer. But I’m suffering for you, for all of you, so that one day you can all come here. You know I wouldn’t have it any other way. So let me go.” He let go of her hands. “It’s where I belong.”
“How can I ever let you go?”
“Because I can let you go,” said the Doctor plainly. “And if I can do that, then anything is possible. Listen to me, Jasmine. You are the wisest, bravest, and strongest woman I have ever met. You do what you think is right, you let nothing cloud your beliefs, and you love every second of your existence. I’ll never meet someone like you again, not ever. Autumn would be proud. And I can see why Tommy loved you. I wish…”
Those words could not be spoken, so he stared up at the stars instead, watching one galaxy, a trail of milky-white a million miles over their heads, swirling over the roof of their world.
“Look up at the stars one night, Jasmine. If ever you’re missing me. Think of what we shared, and know that I’ll be doing exactly the same.”
He turned back to Jasmine, who was beginning to cry too. The Doctor broke his rule, and tears flooded his face. He reached out and embraced her in a hug, and the whole world around them vanished: for one moment, all they saw was each other.
“I will never forget you, Jasmine. Never.”
***
The Doctor looked back over Heaven one last time, at the slope of homes, gardens, and parks for lost children to play in.
Everyone would come here in the end. That was the deal. But the Doctor sensed, somehow, that he never would.
There would always be people to save, for the rest of eternity. And he would be the one saving them.
He sighed a weary sigh, and turned his back, preparing for that eternity.
The TARDIS was empty now, and darker. The Doctor sighed once more as he saw the clothes abandoned around the TARDIS: his jacket, Jasmine’s scarf… Tommy’s jumper…
He approached the console unit, and held his hand uncertainly over the lever. Once he had taken off, he would be separated from this time-stream for good. Unless God said so – and that would be never – he would not be able to visit Jasmine Sparks again. He would not be able to see whether or not she had found Tommy, whether or not he was right.
All he would have is hope.
That’ll do me, he thought to himself, and pulled the lever down. He felt the TARDIS leaving material reality, entering the indefinite realm of the time vortex, where nothing and everything was true at once.
***
Of course, there was no middle class. There were no classes at all, far from the hierarchical interpretations of the afterlife Jasmine had been used to on Earth. She recalled the times she had indulged in a more luxurious standard of living, when Sheila had fished more out of her pension and treated her adopted granddaughter to a four-star holiday or something else. Jasmine always felt guilty, guilty that she could live that way when others could not, guilty that that money did not go on someone else.
That, she realised now, was Heaven: being able to experience the maximum pleasure conceivable with the absence of guilt. Maybe they’d even have a Wi-Fi connection that would stay stable for more than an hour, but that could be asking too much.
She considered again her new home: a sleek, ultramodern piece of architecture, sloping over an empty but well-trimmed hill. She was in the living-room now, staring intensely at the clinically pale walls. Clicking her fingers and thinking of home, she discovered something impossible.
The cream walls were replaced in an instant not just by a new pattern, but a whole new vista. A window appeared, and beyond it a world – not just some quickly-generated artwork, but a whole world. She gazed at it in disbelief, as she watched the cars and the people on the streets, heard the sounds of crowds and honking horns outside, almost felt the breeze drifting in through the balcony doors.
She was back in Croydon, in Sheila’s apartment. In seconds, Sheila would be walking up behind her, offering her a hug and telling her that she was right about everything, that it did all work out in the end.
Jasmine closed her eyes again, and when she opened them the windows had changed again. A layer of dust covered the furniture which was otherwise unchanged, and one thin window displayed a striking panorama of Gallifrey, a sky swirling like lava against a gleaming, vibrant, citadel.
She closed her eyes one more time, and the room returned to normal. She would learn to control it, and would no doubt settle on a theme. It was overwhelming, but she found herself grinning. All of this was terribly fun.
The lights switched on. Night had fallen in Paradise.
She walked into her bedroom, sighing. It was round, and in a similar style to the rest of the house. A door invited her onto a balcony overlooking the hills, and in the centre of the room was a double-bed, configured symmetrically with two bedside tables, two supporting cushions, two…
Two of us.
Jasmine felt another tear. It had been a long day. She had only just accepted that he was dead, and now she had to accept something even greater: that he could come back.
There was a tuft in the duvet out of line on what would be Tommy’s side of the bed. She adjusted it instinctively, and patted it as she tucked it back in. She ran her hand over the pillow, and closed her eyes again.
Maybe, just maybe, if she thought about it hard enough, he would appear here now, and she would not have to wait a second longer.
Jasmine. I’m… I’m back.
Yes, you are, she would say. We brought you back, together. So that we could spend our lives… together.
I don’t understand, he would reply. He always looked so beautiful when he didn’t understand, which was a sad thing really, since that was how he died.
You don’t need to understand, Jasmine would explain. You just need to say yes. Yes, and this bed is ours. Yes, and no one ever has to suffer again. You don’t owe anyone anything anymore, Tommy. You don’t have to become Prime Minister, you don’t have to save the world. While you were gone, the world was already saved, and all you have to do now is watch.
We saved the world for you.
She wasn’t sure how his end of the conversation would go after that.
Wiping her eyes, she opened the doors to the balcony, and was greeted by a welcome gust of warm air. The Doctor was watching over the world below, calmly and expectantly, like an angel at a visitation.
The balcony no longer overlooked the hills – either the Doctor or Jasmine must have shifted it, subconsciously, their hearts commanding another landscape. The bedroom was raised far above the ground now, and below them was an alien city, all spires, different shades of silver, and bridges twisting over pure blue waters. A city waking up in time for the night. And above them…
Stars, galaxies, planets, moons, meteorites. Some still, some moving, forming complex patterns, a theatrical re-enactment for the night owls of this world.
Perhaps these weren’t holograms – perhaps they were real. Jasmine struggled to imagine stars that weren’t.
“Join me,” said the Doctor, and invited Jasmine to watch over the city with him. The sounds, all competing and dying to be heard, were reduced to a hum this high up. “You’ve imagined this place well.”
“It keeps giving me what I want to see,” said Jasmine, before adding: “I don’t know if I want what I want.”
The Doctor smiled. “You’ll get used to it. Heaven’s just adapting itself for you, just as much as you’re adapting yourself for it.”
Jasmine nodded. “It doesn’t seem very you, this whole Heaven thing. It seems like it’s the kind of thing you’d be against.”
“It is,” admitted the Doctor. “But all I’ve made are bad decisions, and I’ve had to live with them. I’ve learnt not to trust my own instincts. Besides, look at this place.” He watched a boat crossing the pseudo-Thames. “It’s beautiful.” He bowed his head. “I wish I could stay.”
“You can! We can make room for you, or you can… I don’t know, live on your own.”
The Doctor laughed. “Oh, Jasmine, outside of Heaven there are some very bad things going on, things I’m not prepared to walk out on. The universe still needs me.”
“Okay.” There was no point in arguing; the Doctor had a tendency to make his mind up about this kind of thing. “But come back and visit us, yeah? We’ll miss you, and you can’t have people being sad in Heaven.”
The Doctor turned to Jasmine at last, and she realised how much she had longed to see those deep, ancient eyes again.
“I can’t.”
“You can!” Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Doctor, you should have learnt from last time. You can’t drop us off dramatically and never come back, it doesn’t work! This is the real world.”
“Yes it is, Jasmine. Yes it is.”
Something was wrong. The Doctor was…
“And because this isn’t a fairy-tale, I can’t ever see you again.”
He was. He was crying.
“Wait, what? What do you mean?”
“This place is caught in a temporal loop – it’s constantly re-writing its own history.” He brushed the explanation aside. “That’s just how it works, how it can last for eternity and not age with the rest of the universe. It’s trapped in one second, in a way, repeating over and over, different each time. The only person with free movement is God, because he’s able to exist in every second at once.”
“Okay…” Jasmine may have missed the Doctor, but she remembered then how little she missed school, specifically Physics lessons.
“I was able to materialise the TARDIS here, and God was able to find me. But when I leave, this place will become inaccessible to me. I can’t keep track of time here like I can everywhere else; I can’t keep a steady hold. Which means…” his voice cracked. “I can never come back here for you.”
“No.” Jasmine grabbed his hand. He wasn’t going back inside again, not ever. “No, Doctor, you listen to me now. All those things I said to you, I was angry, I was…”
“I know.” The Doctor did his best to smile. “I would have done the same.”
“No you wouldn’t, you would never have done what I did. This isn’t Heaven, Doctor, if you’re not here.”
“Tommy’s here,” replied the Doctor. “We both know that makes it Heaven.” He looked back to Jasmine, and clasped both of her hands in his. They both ignored the city below, to the extent that it began to fade, the illusion no longer necessary. “Jasmine,” he said, his voice desperate. “I’m going to make up for it, all of it, all of the mistakes. I’m going to bring back Tommy, bring back your parents, bring back everyone… I’m going to make it all right. And in return I want you to do one thing for me, just one.”
Jasmine nodded.
“Let me go,” the Doctor uttered. “I don’t mean let me leave, I mean… let go. Don’t turn Heaven into a graveyard. Be happy, for me, when I can’t be.”
“I can’t let you go back,” said Jasmine, shaking her head. “I can’t do that to you. The universe is too cruel.”
“I know. I know I’ll suffer. But I’m suffering for you, for all of you, so that one day you can all come here. You know I wouldn’t have it any other way. So let me go.” He let go of her hands. “It’s where I belong.”
“How can I ever let you go?”
“Because I can let you go,” said the Doctor plainly. “And if I can do that, then anything is possible. Listen to me, Jasmine. You are the wisest, bravest, and strongest woman I have ever met. You do what you think is right, you let nothing cloud your beliefs, and you love every second of your existence. I’ll never meet someone like you again, not ever. Autumn would be proud. And I can see why Tommy loved you. I wish…”
Those words could not be spoken, so he stared up at the stars instead, watching one galaxy, a trail of milky-white a million miles over their heads, swirling over the roof of their world.
“Look up at the stars one night, Jasmine. If ever you’re missing me. Think of what we shared, and know that I’ll be doing exactly the same.”
He turned back to Jasmine, who was beginning to cry too. The Doctor broke his rule, and tears flooded his face. He reached out and embraced her in a hug, and the whole world around them vanished: for one moment, all they saw was each other.
“I will never forget you, Jasmine. Never.”
***
The Doctor looked back over Heaven one last time, at the slope of homes, gardens, and parks for lost children to play in.
Everyone would come here in the end. That was the deal. But the Doctor sensed, somehow, that he never would.
There would always be people to save, for the rest of eternity. And he would be the one saving them.
He sighed a weary sigh, and turned his back, preparing for that eternity.
The TARDIS was empty now, and darker. The Doctor sighed once more as he saw the clothes abandoned around the TARDIS: his jacket, Jasmine’s scarf… Tommy’s jumper…
He approached the console unit, and held his hand uncertainly over the lever. Once he had taken off, he would be separated from this time-stream for good. Unless God said so – and that would be never – he would not be able to visit Jasmine Sparks again. He would not be able to see whether or not she had found Tommy, whether or not he was right.
All he would have is hope.
That’ll do me, he thought to himself, and pulled the lever down. He felt the TARDIS leaving material reality, entering the indefinite realm of the time vortex, where nothing and everything was true at once.
***
Music helped a little. Robin had left an old Roxy Music vinyl disc in the TARDIS library, and the Doctor wasted no time getting it out and putting it on. It filled the TARDIS with sounds. Not the kind of sounds he was used to, or wanted to hear – nothing would ever replace Jasmine and Tommy’s endless table tennis tournaments, or Autumn Rivers’ awful early 2000s pop – but for now, anything worked.
Just something to stop me from hearing myself, the Doctor had thought. Just something to block out my own footsteps.
He folded up the ping-pong table sombrely, pushing it off to an unused corner, and cleared the bar of empty lemonade glasses.
He picked up the clothes, and was about to throw them out into space, but hesitated. It was not as if a bit of cosmic pollution mattered any – they would probably drift up into a sun and burn anyway. It was something else. He was not ready.
He folded them up neatly, placed them on the staircase, and ignored the tear in his eye as he told himself, desperately, that they would come back.
The music was interrupted, and the Doctor was glad. He jumped out of his chair, for once delighted to be inconvenienced, and ran over to the door, wondering just who might be casually floating through the outer reaches of the universe. Whoever they were, he hoped they liked Earl Grey and Roxy Music.
He opened the door, and found that the TARDIS had landed. He looked up, and suddenly realised that there was indeed just one thing in the universe worse than moping on his own in the TARDIS.
Landing on Gallifrey.
“Don’t panic.” The Doctor recognised the woman, even in white robes, a contrast to her usual darker colours.
“Kassandra. What are you doing alive?”
“This is only a simulation, Doctor, a projection. You are not really on Gallifrey.”
The Doctor sighed with relief, but as he looked up at the citadel, smeared with ash and surrounded by a cloudy, burnt sky, he found that even pretending to be on Gallifrey was enough to make him lose sleep for weeks.
“You have some explaining to do,” began the Doctor. Kassandra noticed that he was angrier than he should be about what he was about to say. “Why can’t I remember how I defeated Eris?”
“Because you didn’t defeat Eris, Doctor.”
The Doctor frowned. “What?”
“You didn’t defeat Eris,” Kassandra repeated, “because I told you not to. And then we erased your memory.”
“I…”
“Don’t understand,” snapped Kassandra, “and won’t, for quite some time. We need Eris, Doctor; she is a vital weapon in the war to come.”
“But you…”
“Discussion over,” she declared, and indeed it was. “I have called you here to tell you about something worse.”
“Worse?” The Doctor scoffed, and decided to address the sky instead, momentarily. “Enjoying torturing me today, universe? Killing my best friends, forcing me to abandon the rest, telling me my efforts in the Matrix are wasted and now promising something worse?!”
“Oh, do grow up!” cried Kassandra. “Do you know how many of our resources we have been expended in the Matrix, creating this projection? We’re dead, you know, it’s not easy for us to interact with the material world.”
“Fine then,” complained the Doctor. “What’s the bad news?”
“Amendment 600,” said Kassandra, simply. That was all she needed to say. The colour in the Doctor’s face drained to pure white, and the world around him began to spin. He half-expected the sky up above to turn to real fire, and to consume him. It would almost be a relief.
“No,” uttered the Doctor. “I’ve heard it mentioned, Kassandra, but you misunderstand. The Time Lords would never actually pass Amendment 600. Ever.”
“The President was murdered, and replaced by Rassilon. It is said that the few supporters she had left on the High Council were also killed, and replaced by those loyal to the dictator. They passed the amendment into Gallifreyan law. Doctor…” Kassandra’s face turned suddenly and deeply penitent, as her hearts reached out from the land of the dead to the concerns of the living. “I am so, so sorry.”
“Jasmine,” breathed the Doctor, as the truth dawned upon him. “JASMINE!”
He marched back into the TARDIS, and against every established law, it took him back to Heaven. God, apparently, was on his side.
***
Jasmine heard the door to the house slam, and beamed. It was him. She knew it. Heaven was a calm place, and so only someone with an awkward gait could make such an entrance, probably closing it too hard by mistake. She turned around, and was somehow disappointed when she saw it was just the Doctor.
“We need to leave,” he said. There was sweat on his brow – something she had never seen in all their time of running together – and one of his hands, the one not stretched out to her now, was clenched tightly into a fist, as if trying to kill some parasitic insect.
“What?”
“We need to leave Heaven.” He grabbed her with his other hand, and began to lead her at an uncomfortable speed out of the house. “I’ve got to get you off this planet right now.”
“But Tommy,” started Jasmine, and the Doctor paused, just for one moment. He turned back to her, gravely, wishing there was another, kinder response to her worry.
“Tommy’s not coming back,” he said, as it was the only thing that could be said. “No one is coming back. And everyone left on this planet is going to be turned into dust within the hour.”
“What?” Jasmine’s shock could not be quantified, but her voice was so low as to be almost inaudible. Her disbelief expressed itself only as sadness, and on consideration, she realised that was what it was.
“I’ll explain once we get into the TARDIS,” said the Doctor, and did as he had promised. The TARDIS was only parked outside, and the second they entered, he began to narrate at record-breaking speeds.
“The Time Lords have passed the sixth-hundredth amendment to Gallifreyan law,” he explained, not enjoying delivering the facts as much as he usually did. In fact, his voice was quivering. “Thus far, the Time War has been a war like any other – played out across a greater scale, yes, but with its own set of rules, boundaries, expectations. Now they’ve abolished them, all of them.” He flicked a switch, and the TARDIS lurched unhealthily before hitting the ground again. “Rassilon has taken a war and turned it into something else. There are no longer any rules of combat. The Time Lords and Daleks can do whatever the hell they like.”
“But… I don’t understand. How can they get away with that?”
“Their logic is that the Daleks are a sufficient enough threat to justify drastic measures. But do you know what drastic measures are?” He slammed his fist into the console unit and the TARDIS wheezed a bit more. The answer was clear: it was not going anywhere. “The plundering of other worlds and world-systems for valuable resources. And because the Time Lords are doing it, the Daleks know that they can do exactly the same, as they no longer have to fear the Time Lords’ retaliation to their breaking one of their laws.”
He ran up to the doors and opened them again. They had not gone anywhere; it was still Heaven, and still night. Jasmine joined him, peering out but refusing to interact with the world beyond the doors.
“Heaven was created by the most powerful man in the known universe,” the Doctor continued, under his breath. “It has an infinite supply of energy; energy both races will be able to trace. Which means it’s only a matter of time before one of them…”
As the Doctor fell quiet, something terrible happened above, something which struck more fear into Jasmine’s heart than she had ever felt. Matrixes, Zygons, shadow creatures – they all seemed like child’s play now, like insufficient preparation for this.
The stars grew brighter, brighter and brighter, wider and wider, until they eclipsed the darkness itself, and the sky was a blinding array of white and gold. The air grew warmer around them, and the whole planet – or whatever Heaven was – trembled.
“What the hell is happening?” cried Jasmine.
“The race is on,” declared the Doctor. “They’ve started already. The Daleks and the Time Lords – they’re draining the energy from every single star in the system to power their weapons. For every world orbiting those stars…”
He did not finish that sentence. Jasmine understood the implications.
“The fools,” sighed an old man behind them, harsh and self-confident judgement in his voice. They turned around, and saw that he was God, somehow now in the TARDIS. “The stupid fools.”
“How long?” asked the Doctor. God did not give a reply, but instead nodded past him, and past Jasmine too, to the world outside. The Doctor turned briefly, confused, and looked back to God.
God nodded again, and the Doctor turned back, taking a closer look. He realised what God meant.
“Heaven almighty…”
Just something to stop me from hearing myself, the Doctor had thought. Just something to block out my own footsteps.
He folded up the ping-pong table sombrely, pushing it off to an unused corner, and cleared the bar of empty lemonade glasses.
He picked up the clothes, and was about to throw them out into space, but hesitated. It was not as if a bit of cosmic pollution mattered any – they would probably drift up into a sun and burn anyway. It was something else. He was not ready.
He folded them up neatly, placed them on the staircase, and ignored the tear in his eye as he told himself, desperately, that they would come back.
The music was interrupted, and the Doctor was glad. He jumped out of his chair, for once delighted to be inconvenienced, and ran over to the door, wondering just who might be casually floating through the outer reaches of the universe. Whoever they were, he hoped they liked Earl Grey and Roxy Music.
He opened the door, and found that the TARDIS had landed. He looked up, and suddenly realised that there was indeed just one thing in the universe worse than moping on his own in the TARDIS.
Landing on Gallifrey.
“Don’t panic.” The Doctor recognised the woman, even in white robes, a contrast to her usual darker colours.
“Kassandra. What are you doing alive?”
“This is only a simulation, Doctor, a projection. You are not really on Gallifrey.”
The Doctor sighed with relief, but as he looked up at the citadel, smeared with ash and surrounded by a cloudy, burnt sky, he found that even pretending to be on Gallifrey was enough to make him lose sleep for weeks.
“You have some explaining to do,” began the Doctor. Kassandra noticed that he was angrier than he should be about what he was about to say. “Why can’t I remember how I defeated Eris?”
“Because you didn’t defeat Eris, Doctor.”
The Doctor frowned. “What?”
“You didn’t defeat Eris,” Kassandra repeated, “because I told you not to. And then we erased your memory.”
“I…”
“Don’t understand,” snapped Kassandra, “and won’t, for quite some time. We need Eris, Doctor; she is a vital weapon in the war to come.”
“But you…”
“Discussion over,” she declared, and indeed it was. “I have called you here to tell you about something worse.”
“Worse?” The Doctor scoffed, and decided to address the sky instead, momentarily. “Enjoying torturing me today, universe? Killing my best friends, forcing me to abandon the rest, telling me my efforts in the Matrix are wasted and now promising something worse?!”
“Oh, do grow up!” cried Kassandra. “Do you know how many of our resources we have been expended in the Matrix, creating this projection? We’re dead, you know, it’s not easy for us to interact with the material world.”
“Fine then,” complained the Doctor. “What’s the bad news?”
“Amendment 600,” said Kassandra, simply. That was all she needed to say. The colour in the Doctor’s face drained to pure white, and the world around him began to spin. He half-expected the sky up above to turn to real fire, and to consume him. It would almost be a relief.
“No,” uttered the Doctor. “I’ve heard it mentioned, Kassandra, but you misunderstand. The Time Lords would never actually pass Amendment 600. Ever.”
“The President was murdered, and replaced by Rassilon. It is said that the few supporters she had left on the High Council were also killed, and replaced by those loyal to the dictator. They passed the amendment into Gallifreyan law. Doctor…” Kassandra’s face turned suddenly and deeply penitent, as her hearts reached out from the land of the dead to the concerns of the living. “I am so, so sorry.”
“Jasmine,” breathed the Doctor, as the truth dawned upon him. “JASMINE!”
He marched back into the TARDIS, and against every established law, it took him back to Heaven. God, apparently, was on his side.
***
Jasmine heard the door to the house slam, and beamed. It was him. She knew it. Heaven was a calm place, and so only someone with an awkward gait could make such an entrance, probably closing it too hard by mistake. She turned around, and was somehow disappointed when she saw it was just the Doctor.
“We need to leave,” he said. There was sweat on his brow – something she had never seen in all their time of running together – and one of his hands, the one not stretched out to her now, was clenched tightly into a fist, as if trying to kill some parasitic insect.
“What?”
“We need to leave Heaven.” He grabbed her with his other hand, and began to lead her at an uncomfortable speed out of the house. “I’ve got to get you off this planet right now.”
“But Tommy,” started Jasmine, and the Doctor paused, just for one moment. He turned back to her, gravely, wishing there was another, kinder response to her worry.
“Tommy’s not coming back,” he said, as it was the only thing that could be said. “No one is coming back. And everyone left on this planet is going to be turned into dust within the hour.”
“What?” Jasmine’s shock could not be quantified, but her voice was so low as to be almost inaudible. Her disbelief expressed itself only as sadness, and on consideration, she realised that was what it was.
“I’ll explain once we get into the TARDIS,” said the Doctor, and did as he had promised. The TARDIS was only parked outside, and the second they entered, he began to narrate at record-breaking speeds.
“The Time Lords have passed the sixth-hundredth amendment to Gallifreyan law,” he explained, not enjoying delivering the facts as much as he usually did. In fact, his voice was quivering. “Thus far, the Time War has been a war like any other – played out across a greater scale, yes, but with its own set of rules, boundaries, expectations. Now they’ve abolished them, all of them.” He flicked a switch, and the TARDIS lurched unhealthily before hitting the ground again. “Rassilon has taken a war and turned it into something else. There are no longer any rules of combat. The Time Lords and Daleks can do whatever the hell they like.”
“But… I don’t understand. How can they get away with that?”
“Their logic is that the Daleks are a sufficient enough threat to justify drastic measures. But do you know what drastic measures are?” He slammed his fist into the console unit and the TARDIS wheezed a bit more. The answer was clear: it was not going anywhere. “The plundering of other worlds and world-systems for valuable resources. And because the Time Lords are doing it, the Daleks know that they can do exactly the same, as they no longer have to fear the Time Lords’ retaliation to their breaking one of their laws.”
He ran up to the doors and opened them again. They had not gone anywhere; it was still Heaven, and still night. Jasmine joined him, peering out but refusing to interact with the world beyond the doors.
“Heaven was created by the most powerful man in the known universe,” the Doctor continued, under his breath. “It has an infinite supply of energy; energy both races will be able to trace. Which means it’s only a matter of time before one of them…”
As the Doctor fell quiet, something terrible happened above, something which struck more fear into Jasmine’s heart than she had ever felt. Matrixes, Zygons, shadow creatures – they all seemed like child’s play now, like insufficient preparation for this.
The stars grew brighter, brighter and brighter, wider and wider, until they eclipsed the darkness itself, and the sky was a blinding array of white and gold. The air grew warmer around them, and the whole planet – or whatever Heaven was – trembled.
“What the hell is happening?” cried Jasmine.
“The race is on,” declared the Doctor. “They’ve started already. The Daleks and the Time Lords – they’re draining the energy from every single star in the system to power their weapons. For every world orbiting those stars…”
He did not finish that sentence. Jasmine understood the implications.
“The fools,” sighed an old man behind them, harsh and self-confident judgement in his voice. They turned around, and saw that he was God, somehow now in the TARDIS. “The stupid fools.”
“How long?” asked the Doctor. God did not give a reply, but instead nodded past him, and past Jasmine too, to the world outside. The Doctor turned briefly, confused, and looked back to God.
God nodded again, and the Doctor turned back, taking a closer look. He realised what God meant.
“Heaven almighty…”
In the sky, which had now faded to a cloudless black, there was a shape. It was disc-like, the Doctor saw now, and could almost be missed, dark bronze against black as it was. The thing that had caught his attention was not the shape itself, but the movement around it.
Thousands of tiny dots, falling. No – not falling. Gliding.
The Daleks were landing on Heaven and, only seconds later, a clearer colour became visible: bright, sharp, night-vision green, dashing here and there across the world ahead, accompanied by voices: shrill, repetitive and uncompromising.
Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate.
The Doctor wasted no time, and dashed off along the hills, into the path of extermination. God and Jasmine followed closely behind.
“You need to go back to the TARDIS,” the Doctor called back to Jasmine.
“I need to, but I’m not going to,” came her reply. “Ever. So don’t waste time, and let me help you.”
They reached a park, and stopped. People were running, screaming; a stream of colours and sounds against the now inappropriate backdrops of sculpted hedges, statues, and paths lined with flowers.
The Doctor saw them instantly – they seemed to shine, just as a predator’s eyes did as it hid away in the bushes, choosing its prey. It never mattered: by the time you saw them, you were already within its grasp.
“EXTERMINATE!” cried the Daleks, mowing down civilians. Some of them came back instantly, screaming as they did, the nanogenes repairing their withering bodies.
God did nothing. Free will, the Doctor assumed, and came to hate it.
One of the Daleks approached God, and stopped, its eyestalk evaluating his threat level.
“EXTERMINATE!”
It fired one of its death-rays, but God retaliated instantly. He lifted his arm, and the Dalek flew backwards, spiralling, shrieking, and blasted apart in the air some fifty feet away. The others continued to murder everyone they could see, but kept their distance from the old man.
Jasmine noticed a boy running, apparently without parents. He was a little younger than five, carrying a soft toy in one arm, and trying but failing to keep up with the masses. A Dalek aimed its blaster at him, and Jasmine let her instincts take over.
As the Dalek began to cry out its command, she pulled the child aside, and behind God. The Dalek stopped, and aimed for another.
Jasmine smiled, and squeezed the boy’s hand. He looked up at her uncertainly, as if to ask why the monsters had gone to Heaven, and whether she was secretly one of them.
“Stop them,” Jasmine hissed in God’s ear. “For God’s sake, these are your people, protect them!”
Suddenly, God raised both of his arms. Jasmine knew somehow to cover her ears, and was glad that she did: when she took her hands away, they were ringing, the echo of a cataclysmic blast.
Also, she was quick to realise, the Daleks were gone. Turned into atoms.
The civilians continued on, finding a place of safety, and the small boy joined them. Jasmine watched him as he joined the crowds, making sure that they accepted him.
God looked up at the sky, almost worried. In his case, however, worry was not quite plausible – his expression generally switched between frustration and disapproval.
“The Daleks are assembling their armada,” he said. They were barely visible in the sky, but the Doctor and Jasmine both quickly remembered that God did not have to see them to know what they were doing. “They’re planning to strike again.”
Something else appeared in the sky, like a storm-cloud but larger, and shining. A deep crimson circle on its under-surface, churning and blazing like molten lava, cast a blood-red hue over Heaven.
“What is that?” murmured the Doctor.
“Doctor,” instructed God, and the Doctor knew that his only choice was to obey, “get in your TARDIS.”
The Doctor pulled the key out of his inside pocket, and the ship materialised around them.
“We need a new plan,” said the Doctor. “Oh, I’ve got one.” He piloted the TARDIS a mile off the ground, so that from their perspective, the spaceship was the size of a large coaster. “God, deal with it.”
“How do you suggest I do that?”
“Kill them.” The Doctor looked down at the ship without an inch of remorse. Dalek, Time Lord – it hardly mattered anymore. “Obliterate the invaders, and leave your people in peace.”
“No.”
The Doctor turned around. There had to be another way: it would be impossible to change God’s mind, unless the opinion he expressed was purely to play a game with the Doctor. The Doctor would not have put that possibility past him.
“I gave you free will,” said God. “That was what you accused me of, Doctor – being controlling. So now,” he starting raising his voice, “you can see why I was cautious to do so! I am not interfering, Doctor.” He got up close to the Doctor, almost pushing him out of his own ship, down into the burning world below. The Doctor noticed that he seemed to smell of a combination of natural qualities, and of something burning; a human forest-fire, almost. “What has happened here must come to pass.”
The Doctor shook his head, and looked down over the planet. Jasmine joined him, peering over his shoulder. The ship below was emitting some sort of beam, also crimson, which touched the surface of the planet. And then…
Just as the sky had erupted with light, the planet did too. For a moment, the entire cosmos seemed to be a red, raging vortex, a tempest with the TARDIS in its very heart. And then it faded: bits of red trailed apart, like individual flames or pieces of confetti, or one giant burst balloon. They began to fade, and all that was left was empty, starless space for as far as the eye – the Doctor and Jasmine’s eyes, at least – could see.
“What happened?” asked Jasmine, though she already knew and simply hoped that the Doctor could provide an alternative.
“That was Heaven, child,” said God. Jasmine hated being called that, and he knew it. “Destroyed not by the Daleks, but by the Time Lords.” He scowled at the Doctor. “Tell your people well done. They’ve got an endless supply of energy for their cause now, at the cost of only every life in the history of time itself!”
“They are not my people,” uttered the Doctor. “They will never be my people.”
“What comes to pass,” quoted God. “Ashes to ashes and all that… but there will be consequences. Whatever happens, there will always be justice.”
The Doctor and Jasmine frowned, and exchanged an uneasy glance. Without warning, in the space where the ping-pong table had stood, a man appeared. He looked like military, but the Doctor recognised the Gallifreyan insignia almost instantly.
There was not a scar on his body, and his face – a square, spotless one – looked like it had just been washed. It was hard to tell under his helmet whether or not he had hair.
God approached him, the only one not surprised by his arrival – and that included the man himself. He looked around uneasily, trying to figure out where he was.
“Colonel Epsilon,” began God. “Do you know who I am?”
“You’re…” The Colonel tried to back away, but hit the wall. “No, you can’t be…”
“I am.” God stepped down into the area where the Colonel was trapped, blocking his exit. “Are you aware of the crime you have just committed?”
“Everything I do is for-”
“You destroyed Heaven, Colonel.”
Every possible excuse suddenly slipped away from him; as the Doctor watched, he almost found himself experiencing the semblance of pity for the creature who had somehow ended up here.
“Tell me, Colonel,” teased God. “Where do people go when they die?”
“They… I,” stammered the Colonel, “I don’t know. I thought they…”
“Went to Heaven?” God leaned forward and chuckled. “Well, that’s hardly the case, is it? Now that you’ve destroyed it, there’s only one afterlife left.”
“No.” The Colonel hit the wall. “No, don’t say it, please!”
“Hell, Colonel!” roared God. The TARDIS began to hum uncomfortably, and the Doctor tried and failed to calm her by placing his hand on a roundel. “Hell is where everyone in the universe is now doomed to go and you, you will be the first!”
“God,” interrupted the Doctor. “Don’t…”
But it was too late. God grabbed the Colonel and threw him against the bar, dashing his brains out in one smooth motion, and leaving the Doctor with a puddle of lemonade and Time Lord blood to clear up. The Colonel slumped in a heap on the floor, his eyes wide open with terror, and God gave the body a good kick in the stomach, just to be sure.
The Doctor looked up grimly. The one picture he had of Autumn Rivers now had blood splashed across the eyes. Even she, he thought, would not be comfortable with this.
“You didn’t have to kill him.”
“He deserved it,” replied God, without a hint of remorse in his voice. “You might not believe it, but your companion does.” Jasmine took a step back, trying to avoid the Doctor’s scrutiny. “Yes, little Jasmine here almost enjoyed that, didn’t you?” He winked at her, and stepped back up into the main console area. “I’ll leave you to tidy up for a change.”
“That life wasn’t yours to take!” shouted the Doctor.
“Every life is mine to take!” God responded with equal passion. “Every life in this universe is mine, do you understand?”
The Doctor took one step back, and joined Jasmine a few feet away from God. They both understood, perfectly well.
“You understand godhood, Doctor. You’ve made a planet of your own. You understand rules. I gave you all of this, all of it, and you had to go and break my rules. Rule-breaking must be punished.”
“Stop it.” The Doctor squeezed Jasmine’s hand. He was not worried that she was scared by the conflict between these two men, but that she was as terrified of God right now as he was. The squeeze he got in response told him that she was. “You’ve gone too far.”
“No!” thundered God. “I gave you the universe and you threw it back at me, scrunched up, torn, and splattered with atrocities. I gave you Heaven, and you turned it into Hell…”
It was Jasmine’s turn now. “This isn’t the way! We didn’t do that! You can’t hold the whole universe responsible for the actions of one man!”
“You all did this, child. You are all responsible, each to your own degree, and you will all know my wrath. The universe is about to understand what punishment truly means.” Jasmine shivered at that prospect. “And if you two wish to remain in your comfortable little bubble, I would suggest that you both stay very, very quiet.”
And just like that, the Doctor and Jasmine found themselves doing as they were instructed. They turned to each other in silence, both sharing the same thought, and knowing that, by his very nature, God could hear it.
He’s gone completely insane.
When they turned back, God was gone.
Thousands of tiny dots, falling. No – not falling. Gliding.
The Daleks were landing on Heaven and, only seconds later, a clearer colour became visible: bright, sharp, night-vision green, dashing here and there across the world ahead, accompanied by voices: shrill, repetitive and uncompromising.
Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate.
The Doctor wasted no time, and dashed off along the hills, into the path of extermination. God and Jasmine followed closely behind.
“You need to go back to the TARDIS,” the Doctor called back to Jasmine.
“I need to, but I’m not going to,” came her reply. “Ever. So don’t waste time, and let me help you.”
They reached a park, and stopped. People were running, screaming; a stream of colours and sounds against the now inappropriate backdrops of sculpted hedges, statues, and paths lined with flowers.
The Doctor saw them instantly – they seemed to shine, just as a predator’s eyes did as it hid away in the bushes, choosing its prey. It never mattered: by the time you saw them, you were already within its grasp.
“EXTERMINATE!” cried the Daleks, mowing down civilians. Some of them came back instantly, screaming as they did, the nanogenes repairing their withering bodies.
God did nothing. Free will, the Doctor assumed, and came to hate it.
One of the Daleks approached God, and stopped, its eyestalk evaluating his threat level.
“EXTERMINATE!”
It fired one of its death-rays, but God retaliated instantly. He lifted his arm, and the Dalek flew backwards, spiralling, shrieking, and blasted apart in the air some fifty feet away. The others continued to murder everyone they could see, but kept their distance from the old man.
Jasmine noticed a boy running, apparently without parents. He was a little younger than five, carrying a soft toy in one arm, and trying but failing to keep up with the masses. A Dalek aimed its blaster at him, and Jasmine let her instincts take over.
As the Dalek began to cry out its command, she pulled the child aside, and behind God. The Dalek stopped, and aimed for another.
Jasmine smiled, and squeezed the boy’s hand. He looked up at her uncertainly, as if to ask why the monsters had gone to Heaven, and whether she was secretly one of them.
“Stop them,” Jasmine hissed in God’s ear. “For God’s sake, these are your people, protect them!”
Suddenly, God raised both of his arms. Jasmine knew somehow to cover her ears, and was glad that she did: when she took her hands away, they were ringing, the echo of a cataclysmic blast.
Also, she was quick to realise, the Daleks were gone. Turned into atoms.
The civilians continued on, finding a place of safety, and the small boy joined them. Jasmine watched him as he joined the crowds, making sure that they accepted him.
God looked up at the sky, almost worried. In his case, however, worry was not quite plausible – his expression generally switched between frustration and disapproval.
“The Daleks are assembling their armada,” he said. They were barely visible in the sky, but the Doctor and Jasmine both quickly remembered that God did not have to see them to know what they were doing. “They’re planning to strike again.”
Something else appeared in the sky, like a storm-cloud but larger, and shining. A deep crimson circle on its under-surface, churning and blazing like molten lava, cast a blood-red hue over Heaven.
“What is that?” murmured the Doctor.
“Doctor,” instructed God, and the Doctor knew that his only choice was to obey, “get in your TARDIS.”
The Doctor pulled the key out of his inside pocket, and the ship materialised around them.
“We need a new plan,” said the Doctor. “Oh, I’ve got one.” He piloted the TARDIS a mile off the ground, so that from their perspective, the spaceship was the size of a large coaster. “God, deal with it.”
“How do you suggest I do that?”
“Kill them.” The Doctor looked down at the ship without an inch of remorse. Dalek, Time Lord – it hardly mattered anymore. “Obliterate the invaders, and leave your people in peace.”
“No.”
The Doctor turned around. There had to be another way: it would be impossible to change God’s mind, unless the opinion he expressed was purely to play a game with the Doctor. The Doctor would not have put that possibility past him.
“I gave you free will,” said God. “That was what you accused me of, Doctor – being controlling. So now,” he starting raising his voice, “you can see why I was cautious to do so! I am not interfering, Doctor.” He got up close to the Doctor, almost pushing him out of his own ship, down into the burning world below. The Doctor noticed that he seemed to smell of a combination of natural qualities, and of something burning; a human forest-fire, almost. “What has happened here must come to pass.”
The Doctor shook his head, and looked down over the planet. Jasmine joined him, peering over his shoulder. The ship below was emitting some sort of beam, also crimson, which touched the surface of the planet. And then…
Just as the sky had erupted with light, the planet did too. For a moment, the entire cosmos seemed to be a red, raging vortex, a tempest with the TARDIS in its very heart. And then it faded: bits of red trailed apart, like individual flames or pieces of confetti, or one giant burst balloon. They began to fade, and all that was left was empty, starless space for as far as the eye – the Doctor and Jasmine’s eyes, at least – could see.
“What happened?” asked Jasmine, though she already knew and simply hoped that the Doctor could provide an alternative.
“That was Heaven, child,” said God. Jasmine hated being called that, and he knew it. “Destroyed not by the Daleks, but by the Time Lords.” He scowled at the Doctor. “Tell your people well done. They’ve got an endless supply of energy for their cause now, at the cost of only every life in the history of time itself!”
“They are not my people,” uttered the Doctor. “They will never be my people.”
“What comes to pass,” quoted God. “Ashes to ashes and all that… but there will be consequences. Whatever happens, there will always be justice.”
The Doctor and Jasmine frowned, and exchanged an uneasy glance. Without warning, in the space where the ping-pong table had stood, a man appeared. He looked like military, but the Doctor recognised the Gallifreyan insignia almost instantly.
There was not a scar on his body, and his face – a square, spotless one – looked like it had just been washed. It was hard to tell under his helmet whether or not he had hair.
God approached him, the only one not surprised by his arrival – and that included the man himself. He looked around uneasily, trying to figure out where he was.
“Colonel Epsilon,” began God. “Do you know who I am?”
“You’re…” The Colonel tried to back away, but hit the wall. “No, you can’t be…”
“I am.” God stepped down into the area where the Colonel was trapped, blocking his exit. “Are you aware of the crime you have just committed?”
“Everything I do is for-”
“You destroyed Heaven, Colonel.”
Every possible excuse suddenly slipped away from him; as the Doctor watched, he almost found himself experiencing the semblance of pity for the creature who had somehow ended up here.
“Tell me, Colonel,” teased God. “Where do people go when they die?”
“They… I,” stammered the Colonel, “I don’t know. I thought they…”
“Went to Heaven?” God leaned forward and chuckled. “Well, that’s hardly the case, is it? Now that you’ve destroyed it, there’s only one afterlife left.”
“No.” The Colonel hit the wall. “No, don’t say it, please!”
“Hell, Colonel!” roared God. The TARDIS began to hum uncomfortably, and the Doctor tried and failed to calm her by placing his hand on a roundel. “Hell is where everyone in the universe is now doomed to go and you, you will be the first!”
“God,” interrupted the Doctor. “Don’t…”
But it was too late. God grabbed the Colonel and threw him against the bar, dashing his brains out in one smooth motion, and leaving the Doctor with a puddle of lemonade and Time Lord blood to clear up. The Colonel slumped in a heap on the floor, his eyes wide open with terror, and God gave the body a good kick in the stomach, just to be sure.
The Doctor looked up grimly. The one picture he had of Autumn Rivers now had blood splashed across the eyes. Even she, he thought, would not be comfortable with this.
“You didn’t have to kill him.”
“He deserved it,” replied God, without a hint of remorse in his voice. “You might not believe it, but your companion does.” Jasmine took a step back, trying to avoid the Doctor’s scrutiny. “Yes, little Jasmine here almost enjoyed that, didn’t you?” He winked at her, and stepped back up into the main console area. “I’ll leave you to tidy up for a change.”
“That life wasn’t yours to take!” shouted the Doctor.
“Every life is mine to take!” God responded with equal passion. “Every life in this universe is mine, do you understand?”
The Doctor took one step back, and joined Jasmine a few feet away from God. They both understood, perfectly well.
“You understand godhood, Doctor. You’ve made a planet of your own. You understand rules. I gave you all of this, all of it, and you had to go and break my rules. Rule-breaking must be punished.”
“Stop it.” The Doctor squeezed Jasmine’s hand. He was not worried that she was scared by the conflict between these two men, but that she was as terrified of God right now as he was. The squeeze he got in response told him that she was. “You’ve gone too far.”
“No!” thundered God. “I gave you the universe and you threw it back at me, scrunched up, torn, and splattered with atrocities. I gave you Heaven, and you turned it into Hell…”
It was Jasmine’s turn now. “This isn’t the way! We didn’t do that! You can’t hold the whole universe responsible for the actions of one man!”
“You all did this, child. You are all responsible, each to your own degree, and you will all know my wrath. The universe is about to understand what punishment truly means.” Jasmine shivered at that prospect. “And if you two wish to remain in your comfortable little bubble, I would suggest that you both stay very, very quiet.”
And just like that, the Doctor and Jasmine found themselves doing as they were instructed. They turned to each other in silence, both sharing the same thought, and knowing that, by his very nature, God could hear it.
He’s gone completely insane.
When they turned back, God was gone.
This time, the Doctor was the one asking it. “What do we do?”
Jasmine shook her head. “There’s nothing… that man is all-powerful. He knows everything and he is capable of doing anything. Whatever he has planned… I think we have to go along with it.” She smiled sadly. “Tommy’s not coming back now, is he?”
The Doctor shook his head.
Jasmine wandered over to the staircase, noticing the pile of clothes the Doctor had left out. She lifted Tommy’s sweater from the bottom of the pile, and held it up to her face, closing her eyes and breathing it in.
It still smelt of him. Of whatever aftershave and washing machine tablet he used; a combination of those two random and insignificant eccentricities of the human person. She held onto them for a moment longer, and walked up to the door which was still wide open.
“Goodbye, Tommy,” she whispered, and let go. The jumper floated out into space, the vacuum animating its arms as they waved, slowly, in different directions. It floated further and further away, knitted burgundy and frayed labels shrinking into the darkness, and Jasmine felt another tear, this one solitary, falling down her cheek. It, too, left the oxygen bubble, and joined the jumper floating through the nothingness. She closed the door, and stood against it, now completely still.
“What are we going to do, Doctor? What are we ever going to do?”
“I…” The Doctor looked down at the console. There was not even an obvious set of coordinates. “I don’t know.” He looked up at Jasmine, however much it pained him. He owed her that much. “Let’s just hope that he the only reason he told the Colonel about Hell was to scare him.”
***
As soon as Colonel Epsilon woke up and felt the midday concrete burning his cheek, he sat up, the world around him still a blur. His eyes adjusted. And then he remembered.
It can’t be… this must all be…
During his first day on the job, the Colonel had made numerous errors – small administrative things, mostly, and some equipment issues. Teething problems and all that. That night he had gone to bed, and dreamt of a strange and terrible world in which his own daughter was a target for a sick and twisted murderer, and he had to kill her before something worse did.
It was a twisted, monstrous nightmare which he never forgave him for. But above all else, it was not the nightmare itself that weighted on his conscience: it was the fact that within it, he had gone through with the unthinkable.
And here he was, quite fittingly – in the unthinkable.
A demon, hunched over on all fours, crept up to him. It snarled, opening its wide, black eyes, and examined this strange new specimen.
“I… can’t be…”
It cackled, and pulled something out of the ground. Something long, with a flaming end…
The world around the Colonel had come into focus now; the rivers, which steamed like freshly-boiled kettles, and the jagged rock formations in the background.
Then there were the noises. The voices. The laughter. The whispers.
And, last of all, the screams.
There was nothing to be gained from being called a Colonel here. He would have to find a new name.
The demon raised its poker, and plunged it into the Colonel’s eye. His screech joined the others, as he wondered whether anyone in Hell even had a name, and came to accept the fact that an eternity of torment had just begun.
Jasmine shook her head. “There’s nothing… that man is all-powerful. He knows everything and he is capable of doing anything. Whatever he has planned… I think we have to go along with it.” She smiled sadly. “Tommy’s not coming back now, is he?”
The Doctor shook his head.
Jasmine wandered over to the staircase, noticing the pile of clothes the Doctor had left out. She lifted Tommy’s sweater from the bottom of the pile, and held it up to her face, closing her eyes and breathing it in.
It still smelt of him. Of whatever aftershave and washing machine tablet he used; a combination of those two random and insignificant eccentricities of the human person. She held onto them for a moment longer, and walked up to the door which was still wide open.
“Goodbye, Tommy,” she whispered, and let go. The jumper floated out into space, the vacuum animating its arms as they waved, slowly, in different directions. It floated further and further away, knitted burgundy and frayed labels shrinking into the darkness, and Jasmine felt another tear, this one solitary, falling down her cheek. It, too, left the oxygen bubble, and joined the jumper floating through the nothingness. She closed the door, and stood against it, now completely still.
“What are we going to do, Doctor? What are we ever going to do?”
“I…” The Doctor looked down at the console. There was not even an obvious set of coordinates. “I don’t know.” He looked up at Jasmine, however much it pained him. He owed her that much. “Let’s just hope that he the only reason he told the Colonel about Hell was to scare him.”
***
As soon as Colonel Epsilon woke up and felt the midday concrete burning his cheek, he sat up, the world around him still a blur. His eyes adjusted. And then he remembered.
It can’t be… this must all be…
During his first day on the job, the Colonel had made numerous errors – small administrative things, mostly, and some equipment issues. Teething problems and all that. That night he had gone to bed, and dreamt of a strange and terrible world in which his own daughter was a target for a sick and twisted murderer, and he had to kill her before something worse did.
It was a twisted, monstrous nightmare which he never forgave him for. But above all else, it was not the nightmare itself that weighted on his conscience: it was the fact that within it, he had gone through with the unthinkable.
And here he was, quite fittingly – in the unthinkable.
A demon, hunched over on all fours, crept up to him. It snarled, opening its wide, black eyes, and examined this strange new specimen.
“I… can’t be…”
It cackled, and pulled something out of the ground. Something long, with a flaming end…
The world around the Colonel had come into focus now; the rivers, which steamed like freshly-boiled kettles, and the jagged rock formations in the background.
Then there were the noises. The voices. The laughter. The whispers.
And, last of all, the screams.
There was nothing to be gained from being called a Colonel here. He would have to find a new name.
The demon raised its poker, and plunged it into the Colonel’s eye. His screech joined the others, as he wondered whether anyone in Hell even had a name, and came to accept the fact that an eternity of torment had just begun.
Next Time: DeparturesImagine a world without war. A world where the only conflicts are minor and resolvable, where people are free to make their own choices, where good things happen without having debts attached.
Stop. You're not imagining it. That place is real. Another you has lived another life. You'll never get to see them. Except, maybe, tomorrow... Departures will be published on Wednesday 9th November. |
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