Doctor Who_ Interference_ Book One - Lawrence Miles [2]
God, he could be a sentimental old bugger sometimes.
So she closed her eyes, and waited for the Doctor to climb the hill. She could have gone to meet him halfway, of course, but she didn’t see any reason why she should make his life any easier. After all, his body looked a good deal younger and fitter than hers did.
* * *
She opened her eyes again only when she felt the Doctor’s shadow falling over her. He was standing just a few feet away, with his big fuzzy head blotting out the sun and his hands still safely tucked away behind his back. She got the feeling he had more limbs than he knew what to do with.
‘I seem to have done quite a lot of hill climbing recently,’ he said. ‘If this carries on, I’m going to have to turn into someone with longer legs.’
I.M. Foreman raised a lazy eyebrow at him. She didn’t bother saying anything.
‘New body,’ the Doctor said, doing his best to jump‐start the conversation.
He wasn’t talking about himself now, I.M. Foreman realised. She glanced down at herself then looked back up at him.
‘You can talk,’ she said.
‘Ah. Yes. There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since… the last time. Actually, I haven’t seen you in five regenerations.’
‘Mmm. Well, I’m glad you’ve kept yourself busy. Personally, I’ve been sitting here the whole time.’
The Doctor’s face creased up. ‘Really?’
‘Not on this same spot. I’ve been sitting in lots of places. You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve enjoyed the rest. I was starting to forget how…’
She didn’t bother finishing the sentence. Three words into the paragraph, the Doctor had spotted the most valuable object in the galaxy (maybe), lying there in the grass between them. He was staring through the glass of the bottle now, watching the stars and planets dancing around inside. The frown on his face was very nearly big enough to split his head open.
‘Oh,’ he said. That was apparently the best he could manage.
‘I made it myself,’ I.M. Foreman told him. ‘What do you think?’
The Doctor looked up at her, then down at the bottle again.
‘Is that what it looks like?’ he asked.
‘It’s a universe‐in‐a‐bottle,’ I.M. Foreman said. ‘I think that’s a “yes”.’
‘Ah,’ said the Doctor.
I.M. Foreman reached out for the bottle, and stroked the surface with her hand, watching the galaxies inside ripple and quiver at her touch. Speeding up the red shift for her own amusement. ‘I was experimenting,’ she explained. ‘Seeing how well I could put together ecosystems. Seeing if I could make myself a whole self‐contained environment. I mean, I was only planning on making a galaxy in a bottle, but…’
‘Things got a bit out of hand,’ the Doctor suggested.
‘More or less.’ I.M. Foreman leaned forward a little, and squinted into the bottle, focusing on one particular event on one particular planet. ‘Funny thing is, the people inside the bottle have made a universe‐in‐a‐bottle for themselves. I hadn’t expected that. Which means the people inside their bottle could have made a bottle of their own, as well. I’ve got this horrible feeling it goes on for ever.’
The Doctor followed I.M. Foreman’s lead, leaning forward and peering through the glass. The view inside the bottle suddenly changed, as it picked up on the Doctor’s thoughts and showed him what he wanted to see.
‘That’s me,’ said the Doctor. ‘Look, there under the glass. It’s me. The way I was before. Only shorter.’
You could hear the surprise in his voice, and it almost made I.M. Foreman want to giggle. ‘I should think so. There’s always been a version of you in the micro‐universe. There’s probably even a version of me. I haven’t had the nerve to look.’ She watched the bottle‐Doctor for a few moments longer, seeing him go through the motions of some adventure or other. ‘Believe me, there’s been