Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [30]
‘Two root two over three.’
Whitfield was beaming. ‘You are a mathematician by training?’
Adric brightened. ‘Yes, I am. The star I wear is a sign of mathematical excellence among my people.’
The Chief Scientist stepped forward, and examined the badge. ‘It is good that your people and ours share certain values.’ Adric nodded, accepting the compliment.
‘If we could get on?’ the Doctor complained. He never liked being left out, and Adric could tell that he was itching to explain what a tetrahedron was to someone. He’d only just finished counting out something on his fingers, Whitfield had returned to the map. ‘It has been laid out upon purely logical lines: there are exactly seven hundred and fifty floors above ground, a further two hundred and fifty below. The subterranean levels contain archives, generators, heating equipment and the like. Each floor has its own hypocaust, fed centrally from a furnace in the basement. Most large buildings here have similar systems.
The top two hundred and fifty levels contain the government offices, as well as living quarters for the civil service and government officials. The higher up the pyramid, the more senior the official.’
‘With yourself and the Provost-General in joint charge, does that mean you bunk up together on the top floor?’ the Doctor asked flippantly.
Whitfield chose not to answer, looking away. The Doctor turned to Adric and shrugged. Adric rolled his eyes: the Doctor really should have realized by now that the Chief Scientist lacked a sense of humour. Besides, from her slightly embarrassed reaction, he suspected that the Doctor might well have been right.
‘The middle two hundred and fifty levels are for administration,’ Whitfield continued, ‘the inworld revenue computers, the genetic database, serfnet, the police mainframe.’
‘The machinery of state,’ the Doctor noted dismissively.
Whitfield looked as if she was about to lecture him on the importance of such an infrastructure but she changed her mind, instead indicating the lowest third of the pyramid. ‘The two hundred and fifty levels below that concern pure research.’
In an instant the Doctor had perked up. ‘Really?
Scientific research is done here?’
‘Of course. The principal aim of Scientifica is the knowledge of causes, and secret motions of things. The enlarging of the bounds of human empire, to the effecting of all things possible.’ The words came out like a mantra.
‘In other words, we want to reach an understanding of how the universe works. That is why so much floorspace is dedicated to the subject. At the moment, there are over a thousand state-funded projects underway, in every field from particle physics to applied artificial extelligence.’
‘Extelligence?’ Adric asked.
‘Computer telepathy,’ the Doctor muttered. ‘Exploring the surconscious and is something of a long-term project for human science.
‘– for human science, ’ The Doctor’s face filled the monitor.
Medford raised an eyebrow. ‘They know of our aims. The boy is no threat, but the Doctor is dangerous. He masks his knowledge behind those jokes.’
‘Do you think the aliens are in league with the Adamists?’ Falconstock asked.
‘He claims to know little of the struggle,’ the Provost-General answered. ‘But the Adamists have used alien mercenaries in the past: Shlimans, Wondarks, even Kosnax.’
‘None of those races is a match for the Imperial Navy sir. A single war rocket could subdue them.’
‘Oh yes,’ Medford agreed, a wicked smile on his face.
‘But have you ever faced a Shliman in hand-to-hand combat?’
‘No sir,’ Falconstock shuddered.
‘I could tell.’ The Provost-General paused. ‘You’re still alive.’
‘I had heard that the Shark People were cannibals.’
‘That’s not true, Falconstock. They don’t eat their own kind...’
‘ I must say, this is all very impressive. ’
‘I must say, this is all very impressive,’ the Doctor told Whitfield.
‘Thank you.’ She seemed genuinely happy that the Doctor approved. They were out of the lift now, walking down a corridor on floor one-zero-zero. The decor was spartan, as it was everywhere