Doctor Who_ Christmas on a Rational Planet - Lawrence Miles [85]
It was a test. Obviously, it was all a test.
Everything had been planned from the beginning. Cogs were pushing together through time in directions that he couldn’t possibly imagine because IMAGINATION IS BAD
FOR THE SOUL and it was quite clear QUITE QUITE
CLEAR that Isaac Penley should have been shot WE SAY
SHOULD HAVE BEEN SHOT just so Catcher could have the chance to put him back together again, thus demonstrating the superior skills of –
Of –
Of –
‘Aaaaaaaaaagh,’ said Matheson Catcher as something warm and wet and organic plopped onto his shoulder from the ceiling.
This was all part of the test. Wasn’t it? YES, OBVIOUSLY. The Watchmakers were exposing him to the handiwork of Cacophony, seeing if he could stay in one piece NOT LIKE ISAAC HA HA without going entirely mad. OR
EVEN JUST A BIT MAD. Now the room was falling to pieces and the walls were sagging, and the floor was imprinted with the footprints he’d made when he’d stumbled back into the cellar once he’d finished putting Penley back together A TRUE TESTAMENT to the power TO THE POWER OF of OF of the Watchmakers.
It was time TIME AT LAST the time when the WATCHMAKERS that’s WATCHMAKERS would manifest themselves and TURN the world into a place of HARMONY
AND MACHINERY YES HARMONY AND MACHINERY
he could feel it and he could feel them coming THE SKY IS
FALLING no, the sky was opening up, he felt it in every cell in his body, the sky was opening and HERE THEY COME
HERE COME THE WATCHMAKERS HERE COMES THE
TRUE AGE OF REASON –
The screen on the wall belched and bubbled, finally showing him the world outside. Catcher saw the thunderheads opening over Paris Street, and found himself staring into the darkness.
Reason? Was that meant to be Reason? But it looked (CLICK)
It looked like (CLICK)
It looked like (CLICK)
It looked CLEAN IT UP CLEAN IT ALL UP CLEAN IT
UP CLEAN IT ALL UP CLEAN IT
Chris caught himself reaching for his belt. His gun wasn’t there, of course. Even if it had been, what would he have done with it? Pointed it at Marielle’s face? He tried to imagine what he could possibly say. ‘Okay, sister. Get out of the chick’s body or you get it right between her eyes.’
– Something wrong, Christopher? asked the Carnival Queen, out of Marielle’s mouth. – No, not Marielle’s mouth.
This isn’t Marielle, Christopher, I told you.
‘ You did this,’ Chris said, gesturing at the universe-in-general when he said ‘this’. ‘You ... did whatever it was you did... to the TARDIS. You brought me here. Us here.’
– Yes. I’m responsible for everything. I confess. She was smiling, smiling a hundred different smiles at once...
Chris gritted his teeth. He was having trouble telling where the woman’s words ended, and her actions began. Was she saying ‘yes’, or was she nodding? Was she smiling, or was she describing a smile?
‘What are you?’ he tried, lamely. ‘I mean, what? You’re an alien, right? Like the Charon or something. Something extra-dimensional.’
– Christopher, Christopher, please. Just watch.
‘What? Watch what? I –’
Then Chris looked into her face, and saw things there.
Many, many things. It was as though the lines of her face and the flickers of her eyes were describing things to him, showing him whole new worlds.
– We all have our stories, Christopher, and we wear our stories like masks. Every frown has an unhappy ending to tell.
Every raised eyebrow is encoded with years of experience.
Each face tells the story of a lifetime, if you can read it. Do you want to hear my story? It’s all here. All in the eyes, all in the lips.
‘I...’ Chris began, then realized that there really wasn’t much he could say. ‘Yeah, okay.’
– Well. Once upon a time, she began... and Chris tumbled into the universe on the other side of her smile.
‘What is it?’
There were sounds of running, there were sounds of crying, and terrible stories were trapped inside the raindrops.
Somewhere nearby, a man was rolling around in the middle of the street, screaming about a pain in his spine and claiming that things were growing out of it.
Roz Forrester,