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By Root 871 0

agitated, mouths opening and closing swiftly, but he was so caught up in his past that he didn’t care what was happening out there. . . Back a bit, to Compassion, and then a brief trip through all the girls he’d loved and lost (or abandoned) – Filippa, Maddy, Kerstin, Arielle. . . Christ, there had been a few, anyone would think he had commitment issues – and before that, to his early travels with the Doctor, and, yes, what he knew about the TARDIS and how to use it but how it was only the Doctor that knew how to use it really and now probably even he didn’t. And then he had to go through his mum dying again, and then he was looking after her when she was ill, and the first time he’d

– well, something good to relive at last – and his first girlfriend, and looking after his mum after his dad died, and then the kids at school were celebrating the death of a stinking old Kraut, and then his dad died, and then his dad was ill, and then Fitz was a kid and didn’t understand the things that were being shouted at him in the street.

Faster and faster. Spending entire days as Dick Barton, Special Agent. Mum and him being spat on in an air-raid shelter when they found out their sur-name. His fifth-birthday party, where there were Spam sandwiches and his mum wasn’t going to let that nasty Hitler spoil little Fitzie’s day. Buckets and spades and the incredible smell of salty sea air. Riding on a bus. Being carried 120

EarthWorld

everywhere. Mummy. Daddy. Food. Sleep. Mummy, Daddy, food, sleep. Cry.

Mummy. Cry. Warm and cosy and didn’t want to move ever and. . .

‘ Aaaaargh! ’ Fitz yelled, as Asia took the headphones off him. ‘I was being born! Oh my god, I was being born!’

Asia was frowning. ‘He’s overloaded the machine.’

‘Oh no, poor machine,’ gasped Fitz.

But they were ignoring him. ‘Look at this,’ Asia said to her sisters, showing them something Fitz couldn’t see.

‘They’re all on the surface,’ said Africa.

‘Sort of like bubbles,’ said Antarctica. ‘Ew!’

‘What?’ said Fitz. ‘Tell me what!’

Asia condescended to answer him. ‘You have to dig deep, normally. There are barriers – things you don’t want to remember, things that happened long ago, things you didn’t understand. Your barriers are gone, if they were ever there. When you were given your memories, you were given them all. Every single thing that’d ever happened to you – to Fitz – brand spanking new in your head. They’re just bubbling up to the surface.’

‘Well, I hope you haven’t burst any!’ said Fitz, freaked out again.

‘Might have. Sorry.’

‘What!’

‘Probably not, though. The copied stuff’s probably all right. It’s the new stuff that’s a bit unstable. Your old memories aren’t fading into the background like they should, so there’s not really that much room for anything else. Oooh!’

‘What? What?’

‘One of your memories just popped out of existence, all by itself! Cool! I’ve never seen that happen before.’

Fitz was not calm. ‘Oh, I’m so glad my brain is entertaining you. Are you telling me my memories are just disappearing? This is my mind you’re talking about! My life! Could you not be quite so casual about it?’

Asia just shrugged.

Africa looked up from where she’d been examining the machine. ‘It’s all right, he hasn’t damaged it.’

‘Oh, hurrah! Long live the machine! Everything’s OK, then!’

Antarctica frowned at him. ‘The machine’s very important, Fitz Fortune,’ she said, moving over to it and beginning to spin dials.

‘More important than my brain? No,’ as she opened her mouth, ‘don’t answer that. But at least you know I’m telling the truth now, right?’

If You Prick Me, Do I Not Bleed?

121

‘Yes,’ said Asia. ‘So you’re going to have to take us to the Doctor, and tell him to take us to Earth.’

‘He won’t listen to me.’

‘I think he will.’

‘Supposing I refuse. Are you going to kill me?’ After the last few minutes/hours/days, Fitz was able to say that quite calmly because, really, he didn’t have any distress left.

‘Yes,’ said Africa.

‘No,’ said Asia at the same time. ‘Not necessarily,’ she continued, shaking her head at her sister. ‘But we think you’ll want