Doctor Who_ Camera Obscura - Lloyd Rose [88]
Sabbath displayed a small black device that resembled a telephone pager. ‘This will alert me as soon as there’s any disturbance.’
‘Very efficient.’
‘I think so.’
They sat staring into the fire for a while.
‘You realise that all this proves my point,’ said Sabbath.
‘Well, thank goodness. I’d hate to think the end of the universe did nobody good. What point is that?’
‘Your misplaced sentimentality about humanity’s intrinsic value and their right to free will. This misguided fool got hold of a time machine, and where are we? Where are all his innocent fellows, those people whose welfare you claim to care about?’
‘What are you arguing? That if somehow you’d managed to murder Chiltern before he found the machine, everything would be fine? Someone else would have found and understood it sooner or later.’
‘Exactly. They can’t be trusted.’
‘That silly Prometheus. Nobody told him.’
‘The gods did,’ Sabbath murmured. ‘Afterwards.’
‘As I recall, it was his liver that was torn out, not his heart.’
‘Such arrogance, Doctor.’
The Doctor shrugged. ‘Obviously in this argument I stand in for Prometheus. Just as you stand in for the gods.’
‘Touché. But you haven’t rebutted my argument.’
‘Which is what? That humanity is fundamentally base and needs to be controlled? That a democratic society with civil liberties is a society with social inequality and crime, whereas a police state, by silencing dissidents, can guarantee a rough egalitarianism and public safety – so that the poet’s freedom to be subversive is invariably bought by the suffering of the poor? That the rule of the people too easily becomes the rule of the mob? That the centre of every human being is self-interest and even virtue is corrupt? That they are animals whose moral sense degenerates as soon as their bellies aren’t full? That idealism has killed as many as viciousness and there is no philosophy, however noble, that can’t be turned to depraved ends? That people will always fear, and as long as they fear they will hate?’
‘There is ample evidence for the truth of everything you’ve just said. History makes my case for me. Can you, in all intellectual honesty, deny it?’
‘No.’
‘Then why?’ said Sabbath, genuinely puzzled. ‘You’re not stupid about these matters. You’re not starry-eyed, or basically impractical. You can see what reality is. Why don’t you accept it?’
The Doctor was sitting back in his chair, his clasped hands resting against his chest. ‘Because I prefer not to.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Because I don’t, won’t accept. I don’t approve. Injustice is the rule, but I want justice. Suffering is the rule, but I want to end it. Despair accords with reality, but I insist on hope. I don’t accept it because it is unacceptable. I say no.’
‘It’s all about what you want,’ said Sabbath softly. ‘You won’t accept the way things actually are because it is your will that they be different.’
The Doctor looked at the fire. ‘Perhaps.’
‘There’s no “perhaps” about it. You continue to amaze me, Doctor. This hubris is breathtaking.’
The Doctor shrugged unapologetically. Sabbath smiled.
‘I hesitate to mention it, but you haven’t yet thanked me for saving your life. Again. That’s three times.’
The Doctor eyed him sardonically. ‘Once unwillingly.’
‘Nonetheless.’
‘You’re right, the result’s the same. Make it three. Thank you.’
‘Think nothing of it. Doctor?’
The Doctor had abruptly stood up. For a few seconds he only stared blankly ahead of him, lips slightly parted, then, with a blink, he noticed Sabbath again. ‘Excuse me,’ he muttered distractedly. ‘There’s something I need to attend to.’ He hurried from the room.
* * *
Once upstairs, Fitz had discovered he didn’t really feel like sleeping. He’d leaned out of the window, smoking, staring at the thatch-roofed houses, so still under the moon. Dreaming through the apocalypse. The Doctor had that end-of‐the-universe tension about him, no doubt about it. It was difficult to imagine in this tiny, peaceful place. Fitz was used to the