Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [32]
‘Races like the Daleks?’ the Doctor said accusingly.
‘They use slaves, yes. They are also brilliant scientists.’
A spherical area in the middle of the apparatus began to pulse and phase through six dimensions. The globe of air seemed to spin, then twist itself inside out before settling down into a regular pulsing reminiscent of a heart beating.
The Doctor seemed hardly to have noticed. ‘In this day and age, couldn’t you just use robots?’ It was the argument used by the offworld mining companies: robots were more
‘efficient’, apparently, and there were no ‘civil liberties complications’. Such arguments had put a million of her citizens out of work: in some former jabolite mining areas unemployment – a word that hadn’t been used on the planet for centuries – was almost total.
‘Human slaves are self-replicating, self-repairing. Are you seriously suggesting that machines make better agricultural workers than people?’
‘No, I’m suggesting that you are treating people like machines.’ They were leaving the lab now, the doors closing behind them. Once again they were in a bare corridor. ‘The Scientifica provides for them. A slave receives full education and training, food, housing, medical care – we have state-of-the-art hospitals, available for the entire population. The problem with social equality is that it places the lower classes at a disadvantage. Chief Scientists, mathematical geniuses... doctors, we find it easy to reach the standard. But those below average have to struggle just to reach what society demands of them, if they ever can. They end up exploited, or starving. Under the warranted work system, there is full employment. Not only that, but the supply of resources can be regulated: no one has less – or more – than they need.’
‘You make it sound attractive,’ Adric said.
‘Mathematically speaking,’ he added quickly, when the Doctor glared at him.
‘People might seem free under other systems, Doctor, but they are forced to sell their labour for the least amount of money to guarantee their jobs, and they spend what little they do earn trying to scrape together enough to pay for “luxury” goods. Under our system, resources are distributed fairly. Our economy has been stable for hundreds of years.’
‘I disagree,’ the Doctor said, as if he needed to.
‘ I disagree. ’
Medford was tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair.
‘Is this a diversion?’ he asked.
‘The Doctor appears genuinely interested in our social structures here.’ Medford had not expected Falconstock to reply, but the technician had confirmed his own observations.
‘They are on level one-zero-zero, we’ll see what they make of the security door. We’ll find out if they know about the Patient.’
Set into the wall was a great round hatch...
Set into the wall was a great round hatch, the size of a bank vault door. It was a dull grey colour. Adric didn’t recognize the precise alloy, but imagined that it could withstand virtually all attempts to force it open. ‘What’s behind there?’ the Doctor asked as they passed it.
‘Classified research,’ Whitfield said. They had already walked past it. The Doctor gazed back at it. Adric tugged his arm, indicating the door. The Doctor nodded.
Whitfield was watching them. The Doctor stopped in his tracks and smiled. ‘Heavy security for a science project. Is it military?’
‘No. Scientifica was once involved with weapons research, but such projects were banned centuries ago. We are a pacifist people, involved in pure research with no military applications.’
‘The Earth authorities are clearly interested in your work, and for an establishment committed to peace, there are a lot of guns around.’
‘That has proved necessary, due to the terrorist threat.’
‘Three legions to fight a bunch of terrorists? There are more Adjudicators here than on all of the Outer Worlds put together.’
‘The peacekeeping force has proved very effective.’
‘I bet they have – they