Prologue
“Zig-zag plotter! Tommy, map the zig-zag plotter!”
“Which one’s the zig-zag plotter?” cried Tommy, trying to be heard over the rattling floors, the falling books, and the ominous chiming of the TARDIS’s cloister bell.
“The one that looks like a zig-zag!” The Doctor activated the gravitic anomaliser, so that Tommy’s pace did not give the entity the upper-hand. “Take it left, down, right!”
“Aha!” Tommy’s hand found the shape of the component. “Left, down, right…”
“That’s it!” said the Doctor, and reached across to fist-pump Tommy. “We’re onto it. Jasmine, vortex drive!”
“Got it!” Jasmine winced, using all her strength to force a lever on her side of the console. The TARDIS thrust forward suddenly, nearly knocking her off her feet.
The Doctor whacked the typewriter with his fist. “TARDIS, allow voice command!”
“Voice command: enabled.” The Doctor recognised an old recording; one of his former voices.
“Keep the gravitic anomaliser running,” instructed the Doctor, careful to emphasise every syllable. “But activate the defence shielding.”
“Defence shields: activated.”
“Phew.” The Doctor stepped back and started re-stacking some of the books that had fallen off the shelves. “That was a close one.”
“Did we lose it?” asked Tommy.
“Of course not!” The Doctor glared back indignantly, as if Tommy had just criticised his driving. “The entity is suspended in orbit around the ship, but unable to infiltrate. We just need to decide what to do with it.”
“I thought you said it was disembodied?” Jasmine frowned. “How can you trap a disembodied entity in a physical space?”
“A very good question, Miss Sparks. It’s not tangible, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t bound by the laws of physics. It even has some observable properties of its own.”
“And it’s sentient?”
“Very. And malevolent, probably. Perhaps we can communicate with it…” The Doctor wandered back to the console, and inspected the screen curiously. “Oh, dear, that’s not good. That’s not good at all.”
“What’s it doing?” asked Jasmine.
“It’s moving out of orbit. Oh, that’s clever. What’s the instruction…? He racked his brains, and cursed himself under his breath. “Jasmine, any ideas?”
“Not a clue.”
“Terrific. Okay, I think I’ve got it. TARDIS, execute Instruction 64.”
“Instruction 64: executing.”
The Doctor hovered over the screen, waiting for evidence that his order had registered. Suddenly, the ship jerked again. The screen blinked on and off, and when he looked back, the shape of the entity was gone.
“Oh no.” The Doctor tapped furiously at the buttons on the typewriter. “Oh no, no, no…”
“No?” asked Tommy.
“I misremembered. It wasn’t Instruction 64, it was Instruction 65. The entity escaped.”
“Damn,” hissed Tommy.
“Before we get too carried away by regret,” started Jasmine, “can we maybe check what Instruction 64 was, since it’s just been executed?”
“Good idea.” The Doctor rushed over to the bookshelf, pulled out a battered, leather-bound volume, which took up nearly half its shelf, and flicked through the pages. “12… 22… 37… Instruction 64!” He scanned his eyes over it briefly, then raised an eyebrow, and re-read it to be sure. “I think this has just got a whole lot worse.”
“Why? What was it?”
The Doctor ignored Tommy’s question and ran over to the door. He swung it open, and Jasmine and Tommy followed, trying to see amidst the darkness what the Doctor was looking for.
“Tell me, Tommy, Jasmine, what do you see?”
“Just darkness,” said Jasmine. “A sort of black or dark-blue… no stars… some gas clouds, maybe…”
“No,” said Tommy, shaking his head. “Look closer.” He pointed downward. “It’s like the space below us is… I don’t know, swirling. And there were stars around us only a few minutes ago. So where are we?”
“Instruction 64,” breathed the Doctor. “It creates a new pocket of space around the TARDIS, literally a mini-world, to keep her safe from imminent attacks. Except I activated it with the shields on, with the TARDIS separated from the rest of the cosmos. Which means I haven’t cushioned the ship – I’ve just created an entire universe.”
Tommy looked down again at the swirling darkness. It seemed so far away now. And however ancient and immovable it looked, he realised, it had only just been born.
“Now… how on Earth are we going to fix that?”
“Which one’s the zig-zag plotter?” cried Tommy, trying to be heard over the rattling floors, the falling books, and the ominous chiming of the TARDIS’s cloister bell.
“The one that looks like a zig-zag!” The Doctor activated the gravitic anomaliser, so that Tommy’s pace did not give the entity the upper-hand. “Take it left, down, right!”
“Aha!” Tommy’s hand found the shape of the component. “Left, down, right…”
“That’s it!” said the Doctor, and reached across to fist-pump Tommy. “We’re onto it. Jasmine, vortex drive!”
“Got it!” Jasmine winced, using all her strength to force a lever on her side of the console. The TARDIS thrust forward suddenly, nearly knocking her off her feet.
The Doctor whacked the typewriter with his fist. “TARDIS, allow voice command!”
“Voice command: enabled.” The Doctor recognised an old recording; one of his former voices.
“Keep the gravitic anomaliser running,” instructed the Doctor, careful to emphasise every syllable. “But activate the defence shielding.”
“Defence shields: activated.”
“Phew.” The Doctor stepped back and started re-stacking some of the books that had fallen off the shelves. “That was a close one.”
“Did we lose it?” asked Tommy.
“Of course not!” The Doctor glared back indignantly, as if Tommy had just criticised his driving. “The entity is suspended in orbit around the ship, but unable to infiltrate. We just need to decide what to do with it.”
“I thought you said it was disembodied?” Jasmine frowned. “How can you trap a disembodied entity in a physical space?”
“A very good question, Miss Sparks. It’s not tangible, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t bound by the laws of physics. It even has some observable properties of its own.”
“And it’s sentient?”
“Very. And malevolent, probably. Perhaps we can communicate with it…” The Doctor wandered back to the console, and inspected the screen curiously. “Oh, dear, that’s not good. That’s not good at all.”
“What’s it doing?” asked Jasmine.
“It’s moving out of orbit. Oh, that’s clever. What’s the instruction…? He racked his brains, and cursed himself under his breath. “Jasmine, any ideas?”
“Not a clue.”
“Terrific. Okay, I think I’ve got it. TARDIS, execute Instruction 64.”
“Instruction 64: executing.”
The Doctor hovered over the screen, waiting for evidence that his order had registered. Suddenly, the ship jerked again. The screen blinked on and off, and when he looked back, the shape of the entity was gone.
“Oh no.” The Doctor tapped furiously at the buttons on the typewriter. “Oh no, no, no…”
“No?” asked Tommy.
“I misremembered. It wasn’t Instruction 64, it was Instruction 65. The entity escaped.”
“Damn,” hissed Tommy.
“Before we get too carried away by regret,” started Jasmine, “can we maybe check what Instruction 64 was, since it’s just been executed?”
“Good idea.” The Doctor rushed over to the bookshelf, pulled out a battered, leather-bound volume, which took up nearly half its shelf, and flicked through the pages. “12… 22… 37… Instruction 64!” He scanned his eyes over it briefly, then raised an eyebrow, and re-read it to be sure. “I think this has just got a whole lot worse.”
“Why? What was it?”
The Doctor ignored Tommy’s question and ran over to the door. He swung it open, and Jasmine and Tommy followed, trying to see amidst the darkness what the Doctor was looking for.
“Tell me, Tommy, Jasmine, what do you see?”
“Just darkness,” said Jasmine. “A sort of black or dark-blue… no stars… some gas clouds, maybe…”
“No,” said Tommy, shaking his head. “Look closer.” He pointed downward. “It’s like the space below us is… I don’t know, swirling. And there were stars around us only a few minutes ago. So where are we?”
“Instruction 64,” breathed the Doctor. “It creates a new pocket of space around the TARDIS, literally a mini-world, to keep her safe from imminent attacks. Except I activated it with the shields on, with the TARDIS separated from the rest of the cosmos. Which means I haven’t cushioned the ship – I’ve just created an entire universe.”
Tommy looked down again at the swirling darkness. It seemed so far away now. And however ancient and immovable it looked, he realised, it had only just been born.
“Now… how on Earth are we going to fix that?”
The Eighth Doctor Adventures
Series 4 - Episode 4
Breath of Life
Written by Janine Rivers
The Doctor looked down at the universe he had just created. It was a void and formless; a universe without laws, without rules and structure, each little element refusing to interact, fighting for control.
There were a few recognizable elements: he spotted clouds of gas, floating past as if carried by a breeze. He saw droplets of water, somehow; appearing in the vacuum as tiny little transparent spheres.
He trudged back to the console, where Jasmine and Tommy were now gathered. They were like children in trouble for playing a prank: still buzzing from the adrenaline and secretly delighted that it worked, but guiltier than they had ever thought possible, reeling from the repercussions of their decision.
“Allow transdimensional exchange,” the Doctor ordered his Tardis. Jasmine and Tommy had forgotten that he had left the voice control feature on, and wondered why, after how badly it had gone before. He then returned to the door, and silently watched over the universe as it already began to change.
The swirling abyss below started to calm, and what few little patches of colour that were here and there, started to diffuse. This universe was no longer at war with itself.
“The transdimensional exchange allows the laws of physics from our universe to enter this one,” explained the Doctor, as Tommy and Jasmine joined him, watching in awe. “What you’re witnessing now is a universe giving in to a higher power – you’re watching the very elements do as they are told.”
“That’s incredible,” whispered Jasmine.
“I’d better test it,” said the Doctor, and left the pair by the door as his observers. “I can control the gravity below – pull the elements together. TARDIS,” he began. “Gravitational concentration on coordinate 363,698,712.”
“Is that…?” Tommy looked back at the Doctor, baffled, and the Doctor grinned. The instruction had worked.
“That’s a planet starting to form, yes. Let’s give it a star. TARDIS, apply maximum pressure on coordinates… oh,” he said, exhausted, and tapped a spot on the scanner. “There. Jasmine, Tommy, shut the doors. There’ll be a draught.”
Reluctantly, Jasmine did as instructed. Reinvigorated, the pair darted back to the console unit.
“What next?” asked Tommy, noticing that the Doctor was now tapping out silent commands, his eyes darting between the keyboard and the screen.
“Vegetation!” cried the Doctor. “Every planet needs plants. Just preparing for the basic ecosystem…”
“Do you remember the Planet Makers?” questioned Jasmine, and the Doctor looked back at her strangely, trying to work out what her point was. “Not in a bad way, I mean – but this is a lot like what they did.”
“It isn’t!” retorted the Doctor, Jasmine’s attempt not to offend him having gone a bit wrong. “The Planet Makers made worlds commercially and blew them up when they got inconvenient. I am making this world for the sake of making a world – because it’s better to have a universe full of life than a universe full of chaos.”
“Maybe they’re the same thing,” murmured Tommy.
“Oh but come on,” pestered Jasmine. “Don’t tell me you’re not doing this because you’re a little bit curious? What would the universe look like if you made it?”
Tommy decided not to comment. It felt wrong – yes, that was the word he would use – there was something inside him telling him that it was wrong, that it was not the Doctor’s place. Perhaps even that the Doctor was the last person who should be doing this.
But he stayed quiet. He was young, he realised, naïve. He did not understand things like this. If the Doctor thought it was safe and Jasmine approved, it would have to do.
“I like it,” said the Doctor, nodding at the transmission on the scanner. “It’s looking good. But tell me, you two, what does every planet need?”
“Um…”
“What’s the endpoint?” he pressed. “What’s the inevitable result of life across time?”
“Civilisation,” said Tommy, and Jasmine kicked herself for not working it out.
“And not just any civilisation!” exclaimed the Doctor. “We can set the evolutionary course on this planet – make sure it all pans out how we want it to. So who do you think we’re going to use to set that course?”
They were silent.
“Well it’s hardly going to be me, is it?” asked the Doctor, hoping that would prompt them. “Both of you, with your consent. I’d like to use your bodies as a genetic template for the dominant species of this world.”
“You mean you’re planning for it to end up populated by humans?” queried Tommy.
The Doctor nodded.
“Sure,” said Jasmine. “Go for it.”
“Um…” Tommy felt Jasmine’s eyes on him, and… gave in. “Go on then.”
“Lovely,” said the Doctor. “Thanks you two, you won’t regret this.” Tommy sincerely hoped the Doctor was right.
The Doctor tweaked the setting on his sonic screwdriver, and held it over Jasmine’s eyes. “Look up,” instructed the Doctor. Jasmine wondered if this was going to be followed by a prescription, but the Doctor stepped back, and repeated the steps on Tommy. Afterward, he unscrewed the cap on the bottom of the screwdriver, revealing a soft, stylus-like surface.
“Place the tips of your index fingers on there in turn.”
Tommy and Jasmine did as the Doctor asked, and he screwed the cap back on, before pushing the screwdriver into its slot in the console.
“Give it a million years or so, and those petri dish lifeforms will have evolved into Little Tommys and Jasmines,” chuckled the Doctor. “How quaint is that?”
“Will they actually look like us?” asked Jasmine, slightly horror-stricken.
“No, no, of course not! You’re just the template, and there’ll be hundreds of generations. Think about how much variation there is across two. Do you look anything like your mother?”
“I’ve got absolutely no idea,” replied Jasmine.
“Well, okay… but you probably don’t look that much like her.” He returned to his work. “Just doing a bit of last-minute landscaping. With a bit of luck, this area will be preserved.”
“Area?”
“I’m making a garden,” said the Doctor, deep in concentration. “Surrounding it with a river. Which I suppose makes it an island, but let's call it a garden for the poetry. Either way, it doesn't matter. I' m going to make it now - that way I’ll know if I’ve come back to the right place. Shall we see how it went?”
“Okay.” Jasmine took a deep breath. “Tommy. Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Tommy murmured.
“The year one million,” announced the Doctor. “Here we come…”
***
The TARDIS had materialised on a hill, where luscious, uncut grass had wrapped itself around the box’s base. There were flowers on the hill, pinks and purples woven artfully together, flourishing under the sun that the Doctor had planted in their sky.
Tommy strained his eyes to see beyond the hill. At the bottom of the hill was a small, rocky stream; on the other side of the stream were fields, and in the distance, beyond the fields but still golden under the warmth of the summer sun, was civilisation: there were the makeshift roofs of huts, the dancing flames of campfires, and the animated dots of…
People.
“You’re a good landscaper,” confessed Jasmine. “You could have done a lot with my balcony.”
“I’m a man of many trades,” said the Doctor, winking. “Let’s head towards civilisation.”
“We’re walking?” asked Tommy, surprised. “Don’t you want to bring the TARDIS? Show off a bit like you usually do?”
“I’m not a show-off!” huffed the Doctor. “What is it with you two today? I can’t do anything right.”
“My mum used to be like that too,” quipped Tommy. “Every time I accidentally created a human civilisation, she’d have a pop at me for no reason…”
“I’m keeping the TARDIS here for its own safety and theirs,” said the Doctor, ignoring Tommy’s remarks. “You’ll see what I mean when you meet them.”
Tommy and Jasmine reluctantly followed. The hill was a little steep, but they walked slowly, taking time to admire the long pastures in the distance, and the flowers at their feet. This planet was like Earth in many respects – structurally at least, it could have been any English countryside, except thriving in a summer the like of which England was never fortunate enough to have.
It was like a painting – naturalistic, even. But the painter had been working on a low budget, and avoided mixing colours. There were no darker shades – everything here was bright: plants in block colours, the sea and sky and land unpolluted, and the differences between each thing far more distinct than they were on Earth.
They eventually reached the place beyond the fields. It was not cut off by manmade barriers, but emerged naturally out of the environment. The pastures of grass gave way to another small stream, and beyond that the flora was scattered only in patches. The people had formed a rudimentary path through the trees, from which thick, juicy and vibrantly-coloured fruits grew.
And then there were the people. They gathered in their fives and tens, reaching up to take food from the branches, lying back in the grass, sitting by the river, some even carrying wood towards the huts in the distance, which were only simple constructions. The workmanship was basic but well-meaning and functional, as if the planet were run by boy-scouts.
The people were like the people of Earth; indeed, they were like Tommy and Jasmine: tall and slim, sanguine, their eyes green or brown. But there was one difference: when Tommy and Jasmine enjoyed leisure time, one eye was always on the clock, their joy drawn from the little time they had to relax. In marked contrast, these people did not seem to be aware of the urgency of time's passing, as if they could somehow live like this all day, every day, with no exception. No one person toiled more than the rest, and no one child played alone.
“It’s so strange to see so many women without make-up,” observed Jasmine, and Tommy realised he hadn’t noticed. They were simply garbed, too. “Good strange. Good that no one seems to care.”
“Hold on!” exclaimed Tommy, noticing that the Doctor was about to wander in aimlessly. “Don’t just walk in! We need to think of how to approach this.”
“Why’s that?” asked the Doctor, completely nonchalantly. “Just look at our clothes. They’ll know the second we walk in that we’re from somewhere beyond their comprehension, and they’ll listen to us.”
“Let’s just hope this is the Annunciation and not Plato’s Cave,” muttered Tommy.
“Hello everyone!”
Heads were already turning, but none in hostility.
“I’m the Doctor, these are my friends, and we made your planet.”
***
So much space. So much colour. So much new life.
I move at will. Where I think, I go. I cannot create, but I can understand. I wish I can create, but I understand that I cannot.
I pass through the children; I pass through their minds, collecting their thoughts as I go. I pass through their elders, and I see the same thoughts, now withered and twisted. The children have more clarity.
The adults confuse it for stupidity. Of course they confuse it – they confuse all things. They are adults.
I pass out of the people; they are exhausting, and I am becoming like them. I pass through the trees, and feel sorry for them. I pass over the flowers, imagining that I am stroking their petals as I do.
I stop by the stream, and see it up on the hill. I know it must be, because I know all things that are in the universe.
It is new here. And yet, it is old.
I head towards the blue box.
***
“This is the universe,” explained the Doctor. The people were gathered around him now: there were little over a hundred, each similar in appearance, each entranced by his words. A few eyes wandered over to Jasmine and Tommy; Jasmine, especially, who seemed to fascinate them more than anyone. “Look up at the sky.” The Doctor pointed upwards. “Beyond that sky is space – a vast emptiness, the place where your sun resides, giving you light and warmth through day and night.”
“How did you create us?” asked one woman, with surprising confidence. Do they even have such thing as deference?
“I…” the Doctor considered. No, I can’t tell them that. “I said a few words, and you came into being, I suppose. You see, I was there before you – before this universe you see around you.”
“Are there any other worlds in the sky?”
The Doctor shook his head.
“And are there any other universes?”
The Doctor looked back at Tommy. Tommy tried not to answer for him, but made meaningful eye contact: tell them the truth, his deep brown eyes were saying. Always tell them the truth.
“No,” the Doctor lied, and chose not to look back at Tommy. “Just you.”
“Are there any other creators?”
“No. Just me.” The Doctor cleared his throat. “I wanted you to have freedom, so don’t let me tell you what to do. I ask one thing of you, just one. Do what you will with this world, but there is one rule you must follow at all costs. Up the hill, just over the stream, you will find a little blue box with a light on top. On no account are you to go near that box. It is forbidden. Do you understand?”
The people murmured in agreement.
***
“What do you think of him, The Doctor?”
Letta stopped peeling fruit, and started fiddling with her makeshift slicer, careful not to cut into her finger.
“He’s…” Letta hummed a tune as she thought to herself. “Impressive. A lot to take in.”
“Do you believe what he says?” asked Amory, his eyes now narrowing. Letta was used to this routine. Her next reply would be followed by an Ah, But What If I Said, in that knowing voice of his.
“There isn't anyone else we could ask who might know, is there?”
“There’s a voice that speaks to me sometimes.” Amory picked up the fruit, and bit into it, peel and all. “It doesn’t say words like we understand them, but it helps me make sense of things. Which things are true, which things aren’t.”
“And what did ‘the voice’ say about the Doctor?”
“It didn’t say anything. But I think I know the voice, and I don’t think it trusts him.”
“You don’t know their history.”
“The Doctor is a liar,” said Amory, bluntly. “I don’t know why, but he’s a liar.”
“Well, Amory, thank you for that really valuable contribution. But what do you say we actually do about that? Put him on trial?”
“No. I say we go up the hill, and find his box, because the box doesn’t lie.”
***
“But why is it wrong to hit my brother?” asked the little girl. The Doctor stepped back – this was more intimidating than some of Autumn Rivers’ ethical interrogations. The girl already looked like a young woman, with her long and wavy blonde hair, and the way she crossed her arms when unsatisfied with a response.
“Because… some things are right and some things are wrong, that’s what I’m here to explain to you. Hitting your brother is wrong, helping him is right.”
“But what does wrong mean? What does right mean?”
“Oh, blimey…” the Doctor wiped his brow. This was going to be a long day. “Wrong is… wrong is when you break the rules without any excuse to do so, I think. It’s when you’ve got two clear options, and you choose the one that will cause the most pain.”
“So if the other group had some logs,” the girl persisted, “and they had too many to use but wouldn’t give any to us… and I went and stole some… would that be right?”
“No, that would be wrong.”
“But it’s not causing any pain, because all their logs are only extra logs. They wouldn’t even know. So it can’t be wrong.”
“Um…” the Doctor stroked his chin. “No, I don’t suppose that is wrong.”
“And what if someone comes along and takes your logs and causes you pain. Can you go and take some of their logs?”
“I suppose so. Just only take as many as they took from you.”
The girl uncrossed her arms, satisfied with the results of her interrogation. The Doctor figured her group would have a lot of logs by the end of the night.
***
“Tommy! There you are!”
The Doctor found Tommy inspecting the area around the huts. These people seemed to have created a form of art: each hut had images sketched onto its wall; drawings of people, of the hills, of trees. Some were sequenced like hieroglyphics, perhaps representing the names of those who dwelt within. Tommy wished he could meet whoever identified themselves as Tree Sun Fire.
“They were asking me some tricky questions back there,” continued the Doctor, but Tommy seemed unmoved. “What’s wrong?”
“One thing I don’t understand.” Tommy turned to the Doctor. “Why did you tell them that theirs was the only universe out there?”
The Doctor sighed. “I hoped you would understand. I didn’t want to have to have this conversation.”
“Well, I didn’t understand. So we’re going to.”
“Tell me Tommy,” started the Doctor lowering his voice. “Imagine you lived out in the wilderness, and started to lay down a road, so that people could come and go as they pleased through what you came to see as your land. It takes you years to build the road – your resources are limited, and you’re not the fastest at what you do. Then when the road is complete and you look at it, finally satisfied, you discover another road. It’s next to yours, but older, and it was built in a matter of seconds, constructed by a being more intelligent than you. The road stretches further, connecting two cities you’ve never even heard of. How would that make you feel about your road?”
Tommy thought to himself. He could see it in his mind: his jagged, uneven road, next to another, far more magnificent one. It reminded him of something else.
“I would be proud,” he decided. “The fact that I’d decided to make a road, it would show that I’m not really that different from the others. I’d be learning. I’d be okay with that.”
“Tommy,” rejoined the Doctor in frustration. “This isn’t just a case of a civilisation a little further back from the rest. This whole universe was an accident – how would these people feel if I told them they only exist because I gave the wrong instruction?”
“The people exist because you decided there should be people. Do you think they’d care that much about where their world comes from? I wouldn’t care if I found out the universe was an accident, if it gave me the purpose I was looking for.”
“I don’t know.” The Doctor gritted his teeth. “I thought mine was the right approach. Maybe it wasn’t.”
“It’s all right.” Tommy calmed down, shrugging his shoulders. “There’s no easy way around this one. I suppose we’ll find out soon enough either way…”
***
There were a few recognizable elements: he spotted clouds of gas, floating past as if carried by a breeze. He saw droplets of water, somehow; appearing in the vacuum as tiny little transparent spheres.
He trudged back to the console, where Jasmine and Tommy were now gathered. They were like children in trouble for playing a prank: still buzzing from the adrenaline and secretly delighted that it worked, but guiltier than they had ever thought possible, reeling from the repercussions of their decision.
“Allow transdimensional exchange,” the Doctor ordered his Tardis. Jasmine and Tommy had forgotten that he had left the voice control feature on, and wondered why, after how badly it had gone before. He then returned to the door, and silently watched over the universe as it already began to change.
The swirling abyss below started to calm, and what few little patches of colour that were here and there, started to diffuse. This universe was no longer at war with itself.
“The transdimensional exchange allows the laws of physics from our universe to enter this one,” explained the Doctor, as Tommy and Jasmine joined him, watching in awe. “What you’re witnessing now is a universe giving in to a higher power – you’re watching the very elements do as they are told.”
“That’s incredible,” whispered Jasmine.
“I’d better test it,” said the Doctor, and left the pair by the door as his observers. “I can control the gravity below – pull the elements together. TARDIS,” he began. “Gravitational concentration on coordinate 363,698,712.”
“Is that…?” Tommy looked back at the Doctor, baffled, and the Doctor grinned. The instruction had worked.
“That’s a planet starting to form, yes. Let’s give it a star. TARDIS, apply maximum pressure on coordinates… oh,” he said, exhausted, and tapped a spot on the scanner. “There. Jasmine, Tommy, shut the doors. There’ll be a draught.”
Reluctantly, Jasmine did as instructed. Reinvigorated, the pair darted back to the console unit.
“What next?” asked Tommy, noticing that the Doctor was now tapping out silent commands, his eyes darting between the keyboard and the screen.
“Vegetation!” cried the Doctor. “Every planet needs plants. Just preparing for the basic ecosystem…”
“Do you remember the Planet Makers?” questioned Jasmine, and the Doctor looked back at her strangely, trying to work out what her point was. “Not in a bad way, I mean – but this is a lot like what they did.”
“It isn’t!” retorted the Doctor, Jasmine’s attempt not to offend him having gone a bit wrong. “The Planet Makers made worlds commercially and blew them up when they got inconvenient. I am making this world for the sake of making a world – because it’s better to have a universe full of life than a universe full of chaos.”
“Maybe they’re the same thing,” murmured Tommy.
“Oh but come on,” pestered Jasmine. “Don’t tell me you’re not doing this because you’re a little bit curious? What would the universe look like if you made it?”
Tommy decided not to comment. It felt wrong – yes, that was the word he would use – there was something inside him telling him that it was wrong, that it was not the Doctor’s place. Perhaps even that the Doctor was the last person who should be doing this.
But he stayed quiet. He was young, he realised, naïve. He did not understand things like this. If the Doctor thought it was safe and Jasmine approved, it would have to do.
“I like it,” said the Doctor, nodding at the transmission on the scanner. “It’s looking good. But tell me, you two, what does every planet need?”
“Um…”
“What’s the endpoint?” he pressed. “What’s the inevitable result of life across time?”
“Civilisation,” said Tommy, and Jasmine kicked herself for not working it out.
“And not just any civilisation!” exclaimed the Doctor. “We can set the evolutionary course on this planet – make sure it all pans out how we want it to. So who do you think we’re going to use to set that course?”
They were silent.
“Well it’s hardly going to be me, is it?” asked the Doctor, hoping that would prompt them. “Both of you, with your consent. I’d like to use your bodies as a genetic template for the dominant species of this world.”
“You mean you’re planning for it to end up populated by humans?” queried Tommy.
The Doctor nodded.
“Sure,” said Jasmine. “Go for it.”
“Um…” Tommy felt Jasmine’s eyes on him, and… gave in. “Go on then.”
“Lovely,” said the Doctor. “Thanks you two, you won’t regret this.” Tommy sincerely hoped the Doctor was right.
The Doctor tweaked the setting on his sonic screwdriver, and held it over Jasmine’s eyes. “Look up,” instructed the Doctor. Jasmine wondered if this was going to be followed by a prescription, but the Doctor stepped back, and repeated the steps on Tommy. Afterward, he unscrewed the cap on the bottom of the screwdriver, revealing a soft, stylus-like surface.
“Place the tips of your index fingers on there in turn.”
Tommy and Jasmine did as the Doctor asked, and he screwed the cap back on, before pushing the screwdriver into its slot in the console.
“Give it a million years or so, and those petri dish lifeforms will have evolved into Little Tommys and Jasmines,” chuckled the Doctor. “How quaint is that?”
“Will they actually look like us?” asked Jasmine, slightly horror-stricken.
“No, no, of course not! You’re just the template, and there’ll be hundreds of generations. Think about how much variation there is across two. Do you look anything like your mother?”
“I’ve got absolutely no idea,” replied Jasmine.
“Well, okay… but you probably don’t look that much like her.” He returned to his work. “Just doing a bit of last-minute landscaping. With a bit of luck, this area will be preserved.”
“Area?”
“I’m making a garden,” said the Doctor, deep in concentration. “Surrounding it with a river. Which I suppose makes it an island, but let's call it a garden for the poetry. Either way, it doesn't matter. I' m going to make it now - that way I’ll know if I’ve come back to the right place. Shall we see how it went?”
“Okay.” Jasmine took a deep breath. “Tommy. Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Tommy murmured.
“The year one million,” announced the Doctor. “Here we come…”
***
The TARDIS had materialised on a hill, where luscious, uncut grass had wrapped itself around the box’s base. There were flowers on the hill, pinks and purples woven artfully together, flourishing under the sun that the Doctor had planted in their sky.
Tommy strained his eyes to see beyond the hill. At the bottom of the hill was a small, rocky stream; on the other side of the stream were fields, and in the distance, beyond the fields but still golden under the warmth of the summer sun, was civilisation: there were the makeshift roofs of huts, the dancing flames of campfires, and the animated dots of…
People.
“You’re a good landscaper,” confessed Jasmine. “You could have done a lot with my balcony.”
“I’m a man of many trades,” said the Doctor, winking. “Let’s head towards civilisation.”
“We’re walking?” asked Tommy, surprised. “Don’t you want to bring the TARDIS? Show off a bit like you usually do?”
“I’m not a show-off!” huffed the Doctor. “What is it with you two today? I can’t do anything right.”
“My mum used to be like that too,” quipped Tommy. “Every time I accidentally created a human civilisation, she’d have a pop at me for no reason…”
“I’m keeping the TARDIS here for its own safety and theirs,” said the Doctor, ignoring Tommy’s remarks. “You’ll see what I mean when you meet them.”
Tommy and Jasmine reluctantly followed. The hill was a little steep, but they walked slowly, taking time to admire the long pastures in the distance, and the flowers at their feet. This planet was like Earth in many respects – structurally at least, it could have been any English countryside, except thriving in a summer the like of which England was never fortunate enough to have.
It was like a painting – naturalistic, even. But the painter had been working on a low budget, and avoided mixing colours. There were no darker shades – everything here was bright: plants in block colours, the sea and sky and land unpolluted, and the differences between each thing far more distinct than they were on Earth.
They eventually reached the place beyond the fields. It was not cut off by manmade barriers, but emerged naturally out of the environment. The pastures of grass gave way to another small stream, and beyond that the flora was scattered only in patches. The people had formed a rudimentary path through the trees, from which thick, juicy and vibrantly-coloured fruits grew.
And then there were the people. They gathered in their fives and tens, reaching up to take food from the branches, lying back in the grass, sitting by the river, some even carrying wood towards the huts in the distance, which were only simple constructions. The workmanship was basic but well-meaning and functional, as if the planet were run by boy-scouts.
The people were like the people of Earth; indeed, they were like Tommy and Jasmine: tall and slim, sanguine, their eyes green or brown. But there was one difference: when Tommy and Jasmine enjoyed leisure time, one eye was always on the clock, their joy drawn from the little time they had to relax. In marked contrast, these people did not seem to be aware of the urgency of time's passing, as if they could somehow live like this all day, every day, with no exception. No one person toiled more than the rest, and no one child played alone.
“It’s so strange to see so many women without make-up,” observed Jasmine, and Tommy realised he hadn’t noticed. They were simply garbed, too. “Good strange. Good that no one seems to care.”
“Hold on!” exclaimed Tommy, noticing that the Doctor was about to wander in aimlessly. “Don’t just walk in! We need to think of how to approach this.”
“Why’s that?” asked the Doctor, completely nonchalantly. “Just look at our clothes. They’ll know the second we walk in that we’re from somewhere beyond their comprehension, and they’ll listen to us.”
“Let’s just hope this is the Annunciation and not Plato’s Cave,” muttered Tommy.
“Hello everyone!”
Heads were already turning, but none in hostility.
“I’m the Doctor, these are my friends, and we made your planet.”
***
So much space. So much colour. So much new life.
I move at will. Where I think, I go. I cannot create, but I can understand. I wish I can create, but I understand that I cannot.
I pass through the children; I pass through their minds, collecting their thoughts as I go. I pass through their elders, and I see the same thoughts, now withered and twisted. The children have more clarity.
The adults confuse it for stupidity. Of course they confuse it – they confuse all things. They are adults.
I pass out of the people; they are exhausting, and I am becoming like them. I pass through the trees, and feel sorry for them. I pass over the flowers, imagining that I am stroking their petals as I do.
I stop by the stream, and see it up on the hill. I know it must be, because I know all things that are in the universe.
It is new here. And yet, it is old.
I head towards the blue box.
***
“This is the universe,” explained the Doctor. The people were gathered around him now: there were little over a hundred, each similar in appearance, each entranced by his words. A few eyes wandered over to Jasmine and Tommy; Jasmine, especially, who seemed to fascinate them more than anyone. “Look up at the sky.” The Doctor pointed upwards. “Beyond that sky is space – a vast emptiness, the place where your sun resides, giving you light and warmth through day and night.”
“How did you create us?” asked one woman, with surprising confidence. Do they even have such thing as deference?
“I…” the Doctor considered. No, I can’t tell them that. “I said a few words, and you came into being, I suppose. You see, I was there before you – before this universe you see around you.”
“Are there any other worlds in the sky?”
The Doctor shook his head.
“And are there any other universes?”
The Doctor looked back at Tommy. Tommy tried not to answer for him, but made meaningful eye contact: tell them the truth, his deep brown eyes were saying. Always tell them the truth.
“No,” the Doctor lied, and chose not to look back at Tommy. “Just you.”
“Are there any other creators?”
“No. Just me.” The Doctor cleared his throat. “I wanted you to have freedom, so don’t let me tell you what to do. I ask one thing of you, just one. Do what you will with this world, but there is one rule you must follow at all costs. Up the hill, just over the stream, you will find a little blue box with a light on top. On no account are you to go near that box. It is forbidden. Do you understand?”
The people murmured in agreement.
***
“What do you think of him, The Doctor?”
Letta stopped peeling fruit, and started fiddling with her makeshift slicer, careful not to cut into her finger.
“He’s…” Letta hummed a tune as she thought to herself. “Impressive. A lot to take in.”
“Do you believe what he says?” asked Amory, his eyes now narrowing. Letta was used to this routine. Her next reply would be followed by an Ah, But What If I Said, in that knowing voice of his.
“There isn't anyone else we could ask who might know, is there?”
“There’s a voice that speaks to me sometimes.” Amory picked up the fruit, and bit into it, peel and all. “It doesn’t say words like we understand them, but it helps me make sense of things. Which things are true, which things aren’t.”
“And what did ‘the voice’ say about the Doctor?”
“It didn’t say anything. But I think I know the voice, and I don’t think it trusts him.”
“You don’t know their history.”
“The Doctor is a liar,” said Amory, bluntly. “I don’t know why, but he’s a liar.”
“Well, Amory, thank you for that really valuable contribution. But what do you say we actually do about that? Put him on trial?”
“No. I say we go up the hill, and find his box, because the box doesn’t lie.”
***
“But why is it wrong to hit my brother?” asked the little girl. The Doctor stepped back – this was more intimidating than some of Autumn Rivers’ ethical interrogations. The girl already looked like a young woman, with her long and wavy blonde hair, and the way she crossed her arms when unsatisfied with a response.
“Because… some things are right and some things are wrong, that’s what I’m here to explain to you. Hitting your brother is wrong, helping him is right.”
“But what does wrong mean? What does right mean?”
“Oh, blimey…” the Doctor wiped his brow. This was going to be a long day. “Wrong is… wrong is when you break the rules without any excuse to do so, I think. It’s when you’ve got two clear options, and you choose the one that will cause the most pain.”
“So if the other group had some logs,” the girl persisted, “and they had too many to use but wouldn’t give any to us… and I went and stole some… would that be right?”
“No, that would be wrong.”
“But it’s not causing any pain, because all their logs are only extra logs. They wouldn’t even know. So it can’t be wrong.”
“Um…” the Doctor stroked his chin. “No, I don’t suppose that is wrong.”
“And what if someone comes along and takes your logs and causes you pain. Can you go and take some of their logs?”
“I suppose so. Just only take as many as they took from you.”
The girl uncrossed her arms, satisfied with the results of her interrogation. The Doctor figured her group would have a lot of logs by the end of the night.
***
“Tommy! There you are!”
The Doctor found Tommy inspecting the area around the huts. These people seemed to have created a form of art: each hut had images sketched onto its wall; drawings of people, of the hills, of trees. Some were sequenced like hieroglyphics, perhaps representing the names of those who dwelt within. Tommy wished he could meet whoever identified themselves as Tree Sun Fire.
“They were asking me some tricky questions back there,” continued the Doctor, but Tommy seemed unmoved. “What’s wrong?”
“One thing I don’t understand.” Tommy turned to the Doctor. “Why did you tell them that theirs was the only universe out there?”
The Doctor sighed. “I hoped you would understand. I didn’t want to have to have this conversation.”
“Well, I didn’t understand. So we’re going to.”
“Tell me Tommy,” started the Doctor lowering his voice. “Imagine you lived out in the wilderness, and started to lay down a road, so that people could come and go as they pleased through what you came to see as your land. It takes you years to build the road – your resources are limited, and you’re not the fastest at what you do. Then when the road is complete and you look at it, finally satisfied, you discover another road. It’s next to yours, but older, and it was built in a matter of seconds, constructed by a being more intelligent than you. The road stretches further, connecting two cities you’ve never even heard of. How would that make you feel about your road?”
Tommy thought to himself. He could see it in his mind: his jagged, uneven road, next to another, far more magnificent one. It reminded him of something else.
“I would be proud,” he decided. “The fact that I’d decided to make a road, it would show that I’m not really that different from the others. I’d be learning. I’d be okay with that.”
“Tommy,” rejoined the Doctor in frustration. “This isn’t just a case of a civilisation a little further back from the rest. This whole universe was an accident – how would these people feel if I told them they only exist because I gave the wrong instruction?”
“The people exist because you decided there should be people. Do you think they’d care that much about where their world comes from? I wouldn’t care if I found out the universe was an accident, if it gave me the purpose I was looking for.”
“I don’t know.” The Doctor gritted his teeth. “I thought mine was the right approach. Maybe it wasn’t.”
“It’s all right.” Tommy calmed down, shrugging his shoulders. “There’s no easy way around this one. I suppose we’ll find out soon enough either way…”
***
“I remember going up this hill once before,” recalled Amory, helping Letta over a ridge. “When I was young. I twisted my ankle, and had to crawl all the way back down.”
“Remind me why you convinced me to follow you up here,” muttered Letta.
“There it is.” Amory stopped and wiped the sweat off his forehead. The sun was scorching today, but according to the Doctor it was also what kept them alive, so he decided to forgive it. “The box.”
“A little blue box with a light on top”, recalled Letta. “That’s what he said. Are you sure…?”
“I’ve never been more sure in my life.” Amory approached the box, and placed his hand on the door. The whole thing hummed, like the sighs of a living creature, and Amory recoiled. “It’s like nothing…”
The door swung open, creaking as it did so. Someone had left it unlocked.
They struggled as they entered, their minds compensating where possible for a world which functioned according to a different set of rules: the space inside was somehow larger than the space outside, with no apparent end.
Everything was so smooth and perfectly finished, in a way that none of their huts had ever achieved. The curves of the arches were perfect, and a material they did not recognise – a material which you could somehow see through – held back the waters of stream. They did not have a word for TARDIS Aquarium.
There were round things on the walls with no apparent purpose. Amory wondered if they were like the sun to this ship, keeping it warm and lit, though they appeared inconveniently placed and excessive in number.
Letta was drawn to something else: the strangely-shaped structure in the centre of the room, whose central column moved up and down, again mirroring the act of breathing in its rapid and unceasing rhythms.
There were words written across a shining page on one of the column’s edges – the words moved instead of staying fixed in place like on the pages of a book; they appeared in their own hieroglyphics, translated into a twisted and simplified form of the original.
Allow the laws of the universe to enter this buffer world.
Concentrate the forces in one place.
Create pressure in the vacuum far above the land.
Prepare plant lifeforms.
Create human life using the templates of Lindsay, Tommy and Sparks, Jasmine.
“I don’t understand,” said Amory, examining it after Letta. “What does it mean? Is it a story?”
Letta shook her head. “It’s the story of us. The Doctor was right. He created this world, but... there was another world beyond. And those two people he brought with him? They were the very first of our race. I think…” She concentrated on the screen again, sure that the words had changed formation. “Yes, they are our ancestors.”
The door began to creak again, and the pair exchanged a grimace. They separated quickly, heading for cover in archways on two opposite ends of the central structure. After just a matter of seconds, the Doctor entered with his two friends.
“You left the door open,” observed Jasmine. “You want to be more careful.”
“And you left the command log open,” added Tommy, examining the screen. “You’re getting old and forgetful.”
“One day,” moaned the Doctor, “it’ll be ‘Well done Doctor! Well done on creating a beautiful and benevolent civilisation! It doesn’t matter that you left the door ajar’…”
Jasmine frowned, and looked almost straight at Letta. “Something’s not right in here.”
“Oh, good.” The Doctor leant back against the bookshelf. “I’m glad I’m not the only one sensing that.”
“I don’t think we’re alone.”
“No, I don’t think we are.” The Doctor raised his voice. “Whoever you are, I command you come out of your hiding place this instant!”
Amory was the first to step out, from the left side of the ship. The Doctor did not recognise him, but knew instantly that he was one of the locals, based on his unkempt beard and rugged clothing.
“It was her fault!” Amory protested, straight away, and Letta emerged from her hiding place. “She convinced me to come here! Please, we’re sorry!”
It’s okay, Tommy was about to say. I’d have done the same. But he was interrupted by the Doctor.
“How dare you,” the Time Lord uttered. “I gave you one rule, just one. You do not enter this ship. Leave! Go on, get out!”
The couple ran for the door and once outside, sped down the hills. The Doctor flicked a lever, and the door closed.
No one else would be entering any time soon.
“That was out of order,” said Tommy. “They were just curious.”
“The rules I set are for your own safety, Tommy Lindsay,” retorted the Doctor, addressing Jasmine too. “When I tell you to stay in the TARDIS, it’s because that’s the only way I can keep you safe while saving the world from imminent destruction. When I tell you to act a certain way or dress a certain way, it’s to save you from having your head sliced off wherever it is we’re going. When I tell you to map the zig-zag plotter, it’s to stop the evil entity from escaping. And when I tell a group of people not to enter the magic box on the hill, it’s for their sake and not mine!”
“You really believe that, don’t you?” breathed Tommy, and shook his head. “Come on Jasmine, let’s head back to the people. I think the Doctor needs some time alone.”
“Remind me why you convinced me to follow you up here,” muttered Letta.
“There it is.” Amory stopped and wiped the sweat off his forehead. The sun was scorching today, but according to the Doctor it was also what kept them alive, so he decided to forgive it. “The box.”
“A little blue box with a light on top”, recalled Letta. “That’s what he said. Are you sure…?”
“I’ve never been more sure in my life.” Amory approached the box, and placed his hand on the door. The whole thing hummed, like the sighs of a living creature, and Amory recoiled. “It’s like nothing…”
The door swung open, creaking as it did so. Someone had left it unlocked.
They struggled as they entered, their minds compensating where possible for a world which functioned according to a different set of rules: the space inside was somehow larger than the space outside, with no apparent end.
Everything was so smooth and perfectly finished, in a way that none of their huts had ever achieved. The curves of the arches were perfect, and a material they did not recognise – a material which you could somehow see through – held back the waters of stream. They did not have a word for TARDIS Aquarium.
There were round things on the walls with no apparent purpose. Amory wondered if they were like the sun to this ship, keeping it warm and lit, though they appeared inconveniently placed and excessive in number.
Letta was drawn to something else: the strangely-shaped structure in the centre of the room, whose central column moved up and down, again mirroring the act of breathing in its rapid and unceasing rhythms.
There were words written across a shining page on one of the column’s edges – the words moved instead of staying fixed in place like on the pages of a book; they appeared in their own hieroglyphics, translated into a twisted and simplified form of the original.
Allow the laws of the universe to enter this buffer world.
Concentrate the forces in one place.
Create pressure in the vacuum far above the land.
Prepare plant lifeforms.
Create human life using the templates of Lindsay, Tommy and Sparks, Jasmine.
“I don’t understand,” said Amory, examining it after Letta. “What does it mean? Is it a story?”
Letta shook her head. “It’s the story of us. The Doctor was right. He created this world, but... there was another world beyond. And those two people he brought with him? They were the very first of our race. I think…” She concentrated on the screen again, sure that the words had changed formation. “Yes, they are our ancestors.”
The door began to creak again, and the pair exchanged a grimace. They separated quickly, heading for cover in archways on two opposite ends of the central structure. After just a matter of seconds, the Doctor entered with his two friends.
“You left the door open,” observed Jasmine. “You want to be more careful.”
“And you left the command log open,” added Tommy, examining the screen. “You’re getting old and forgetful.”
“One day,” moaned the Doctor, “it’ll be ‘Well done Doctor! Well done on creating a beautiful and benevolent civilisation! It doesn’t matter that you left the door ajar’…”
Jasmine frowned, and looked almost straight at Letta. “Something’s not right in here.”
“Oh, good.” The Doctor leant back against the bookshelf. “I’m glad I’m not the only one sensing that.”
“I don’t think we’re alone.”
“No, I don’t think we are.” The Doctor raised his voice. “Whoever you are, I command you come out of your hiding place this instant!”
Amory was the first to step out, from the left side of the ship. The Doctor did not recognise him, but knew instantly that he was one of the locals, based on his unkempt beard and rugged clothing.
“It was her fault!” Amory protested, straight away, and Letta emerged from her hiding place. “She convinced me to come here! Please, we’re sorry!”
It’s okay, Tommy was about to say. I’d have done the same. But he was interrupted by the Doctor.
“How dare you,” the Time Lord uttered. “I gave you one rule, just one. You do not enter this ship. Leave! Go on, get out!”
The couple ran for the door and once outside, sped down the hills. The Doctor flicked a lever, and the door closed.
No one else would be entering any time soon.
“That was out of order,” said Tommy. “They were just curious.”
“The rules I set are for your own safety, Tommy Lindsay,” retorted the Doctor, addressing Jasmine too. “When I tell you to stay in the TARDIS, it’s because that’s the only way I can keep you safe while saving the world from imminent destruction. When I tell you to act a certain way or dress a certain way, it’s to save you from having your head sliced off wherever it is we’re going. When I tell you to map the zig-zag plotter, it’s to stop the evil entity from escaping. And when I tell a group of people not to enter the magic box on the hill, it’s for their sake and not mine!”
“You really believe that, don’t you?” breathed Tommy, and shook his head. “Come on Jasmine, let’s head back to the people. I think the Doctor needs some time alone.”
The Doctor opened the doors for them silently, and closed them behind them as they left. Moments later, the ship fell silent; the engine let out one last wheeze and then fell to a quiet pulsation, and the lights all across the room went off so that only the blue light of the time rotor remained, as well as the red light at its centre.
“It wasn’t that man or woman whose presence I had sensed, was it?” asked the Doctor. “It was you.”
You are correct, Doctor.
The Doctor could not quite hear the voice, at least not as audible soundwaves. It manifested in his mind, each word with an ongoing, distorted echo, like a song stuck in his head. It had no voice, but it almost had a tune.
“I thought I caught you when we were chasing you, but I must have lost you again. You escaped to this world back in the beginning, didn’t you? Oh…” the Doctor cursed his carelessness. “You’ve been there with them since the very start.”
Correct again. I am within them and without them.
“Turning them against me, planting the element of doubt, even passing through my mind. And for what reason? Just what are you?” The entity did not respond. “Oh, come on, you can tell me now! It’s just the two of us here, after all.”
I come from the nowhere, but I am a something. I drift and settle. I have been here longer than they have, and I will be there long after.
“You come from the nowhere?” The Doctor scoffed. “Poetry.”
Like this word, I am created with words. I am words, and I take my place within words. Within the words that are spoken, and within the words that are not. They give me life.
“You’re words?”
I am the Second Meaning.
“As a matter of fact, I don’t know what you mean.”
I dwell in the rivers and the lakes. In the dark and the quiet places. I am awoken by thoughts, and can dwell in them too.
“And now you dwell in my TARDIS,” complained the Doctor, and reached for a button near him. “I forgot to turn the shields on. This will expel you out into the world – you will never be able to return to my ship.”
And you will never be able to expel me from the place you have sentenced me to. I will always be there, Doctor. I will always live inside their hearts and minds.
“I’ve had enough.” The Doctor pressed the button, and the shields came on. The ship powered back up, growing like an over-revved engine. And the Second Meaning was gone.
***
“You blamed me. You shouldn’t have blamed me.”
“Well I’m going to keep blaming you,” spat Amory. “You came with me, you made the choice. And since it’s your word against mine, you might as well stop arguing about it.”
“I don’t know how we used to be friends,” said Letta.
“We still are.”
“No, we aren’t.”
“Well it’s your word again mine, remember?” Amory glanced behind him. “Shh, it’s the Doctor. He’s coming back.”
Amory was thrown when the Doctor patted him gently on the back, and perched on the log between the two of them. Letta was simply relieved.
“You two,” said the Doctor, a smile on his face. “No snooping around boxes again, understood?”
“Yes, yes!” exclaimed Amory. “Yes, we understand!”
“Would you like us to keep what we found a secret?” asked Letta.
The Doctor shrugged. “What do you think? I’ll leave it up to you, how’s that?”
He stood up and wandered back to the edge of the stream. Others started to gather around him again, forming a circle. Letta glared at Amory. Your word against mine, her eyes said. That’s not to say you’ll win.
“It’s been a pleasure meeting you all,” said the Doctor. Jasmine and Tommy stepped out of the crowd, quietly joining him. “I’m very proud of you. I’ve laid down the rules, but remember – you’re people! Ordinary human beings, capable of making decisions and saving your planet without me. So do right. Do what your heart tells you to do, and silence that little voice inside your head. This planet can be great, but only if you all work together in pursuit of that goal.”
The people nodded.
“Are you coming back?” asked the woman, the one who had first spoken to the Doctor when he arrived.
“One day,” murmured the Doctor. “One day.” He gave an awkward wave, who cheered him, and stepped over the stream into the forbidden land. Jasmine and Tommy followed closely behind.
“Sorry, you two,” said the Doctor. “Not my finest hour. But I think it all worked out in the end.”
“It’s okay,” replied Tommy. “We all have bad days. Now how about a trip back into our universe? I’m dying for a coffee, however lovely their spring water is.”
“Coffee it is!” The Doctor slowed up, and Jasmine and Tommy got ahead. They knew their way back to the TARDIS.
The Doctor looked once more upon his civilisation: everyone was going back to work now. They carried their logs faster than before now; their faces were brighter, their eyes wider, and some children gathered, watching as best they could the places beyond the hills. These people were smiling, simply glad to be here without caring at all where here was.
He looked for a word to describe his world, and found only one. It may not last – whenever a world did end up this way, even a naturally-occurring one, it happened so quickly he usually missed it. But perhaps this one would be different. Perhaps those bright colours would never fade, the stream would never end, and the smiles would never turn to tears. Perhaps.
The Doctor looked upon what had created, and could not help but grin. It was…
Good.
“Well I’m going to keep blaming you,” spat Amory. “You came with me, you made the choice. And since it’s your word against mine, you might as well stop arguing about it.”
“I don’t know how we used to be friends,” said Letta.
“We still are.”
“No, we aren’t.”
“Well it’s your word again mine, remember?” Amory glanced behind him. “Shh, it’s the Doctor. He’s coming back.”
Amory was thrown when the Doctor patted him gently on the back, and perched on the log between the two of them. Letta was simply relieved.
“You two,” said the Doctor, a smile on his face. “No snooping around boxes again, understood?”
“Yes, yes!” exclaimed Amory. “Yes, we understand!”
“Would you like us to keep what we found a secret?” asked Letta.
The Doctor shrugged. “What do you think? I’ll leave it up to you, how’s that?”
He stood up and wandered back to the edge of the stream. Others started to gather around him again, forming a circle. Letta glared at Amory. Your word against mine, her eyes said. That’s not to say you’ll win.
“It’s been a pleasure meeting you all,” said the Doctor. Jasmine and Tommy stepped out of the crowd, quietly joining him. “I’m very proud of you. I’ve laid down the rules, but remember – you’re people! Ordinary human beings, capable of making decisions and saving your planet without me. So do right. Do what your heart tells you to do, and silence that little voice inside your head. This planet can be great, but only if you all work together in pursuit of that goal.”
The people nodded.
“Are you coming back?” asked the woman, the one who had first spoken to the Doctor when he arrived.
“One day,” murmured the Doctor. “One day.” He gave an awkward wave, who cheered him, and stepped over the stream into the forbidden land. Jasmine and Tommy followed closely behind.
“Sorry, you two,” said the Doctor. “Not my finest hour. But I think it all worked out in the end.”
“It’s okay,” replied Tommy. “We all have bad days. Now how about a trip back into our universe? I’m dying for a coffee, however lovely their spring water is.”
“Coffee it is!” The Doctor slowed up, and Jasmine and Tommy got ahead. They knew their way back to the TARDIS.
The Doctor looked once more upon his civilisation: everyone was going back to work now. They carried their logs faster than before now; their faces were brighter, their eyes wider, and some children gathered, watching as best they could the places beyond the hills. These people were smiling, simply glad to be here without caring at all where here was.
He looked for a word to describe his world, and found only one. It may not last – whenever a world did end up this way, even a naturally-occurring one, it happened so quickly he usually missed it. But perhaps this one would be different. Perhaps those bright colours would never fade, the stream would never end, and the smiles would never turn to tears. Perhaps.
The Doctor looked upon what had created, and could not help but grin. It was…
Good.
Next Time: Pillars of FireThe trio are back to having harmless adventures through space - that is, until the Doctor lands in the one place he should never, ever land.
As the nature of the terrible world the TARDIS crew have arrived on becomes clear, the Doctor finds himself faced with a problem with no apparent solution, whilst Tommy begins to question his own decisions. A rift is growing between the Doctor and his friends. This time, not all of them will be getting back into the TARDIS together. Pillars of Fire will be published on Saturday 10th September. |
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