Doctor Who_ Psi-Ence Fiction - Chris Boucher [89]
Ours not to reason why. They want it checked, I check it.' He approached the bloodstained bed reluctantly. 'Did your lot look under this?' he asked hopefully.
Simpson shrugged noncommittally. The supervisor tried to see underneath the bed without touching it or kneeling on the stained carpet.
'Anything particular you're supposed to be looking for?' Simpson asked.
"They reckon the latest thing is to dissolve it in water," the supervisor said.
'I'msupposed to look for bottles.'
'Dissolve what in water?'
'I don't know do I?'
Simpson said, 'What sort of bottles?'
'Bottles containing liquid,' the supervisor said.
Simpson shook his head and smiled. 'I'm amazed you left the job, Fred,' he said. 'If you'd stayed a copper you could have been chief constable by now.'
The Doctor had examined the rest of the tapes, including the incomplete recordings of the trial run with the sensory-deprivation tank. Even the apparently inexplicable gaps in those, which were assumed to be the result of equipment failures, pointed to Josh Randall in his view. It looked to the Doctor as though this particular student was playing increasingly ugly games with everyone around him. What was not clear from the recordings, or from anything else, was Josh's motive for doing what he was doing.
He clearly enjoyed the secret power he had to tease and torment people, but there was more to it than that. He had another purpose. He wasn't just the over-stimulated product of a parapsychology programme powered by a random field effect.
He wasn't an alien in disguise who had been drawn to the overlapping spatial confusions of the weakened time lines. Ironically, thanks to the behaviour of the TARDIS, the alien was in fact the Doctor himself. Leela too, of course. Briefly he wondered where she had disappeared to, but then he forgot about her again. No, the Doctor thought, Josh Randall had another purpose and he knew he was missing the point of what that was.
There was nothing for it he decided, he would have to confront the boy. He was trying to decide how to do that -with the sort of powers Josh Randall probably possessed it could be difficult to find him if he didn't want to be found, never mind confront him - when the door to the laboratory opened.
Barry Hitchins breezed into the lab brandishing the bottle of Clearspring water. 'Clean as tap water,' he announced loudly. 'In fact, it probably is tap water.'
He looked remarkably cheerful for someone who had just lost his research fellowship, the Doctor thought. I'm glad you're pleased. It doesn't help me unfortunately.'
'My friend in the chemistry department is doing some further tests. Sample comparisons? If it should turn out to be tap water from say Yorkshire, the people involved get done for fraud.' Barry smiled broadly. 'Guess who turns out to be involved?'
'I need to talk to Josh Randall,' the Doctor said.
'Professor John Finer,' Barry said triumphantly. He could go to jail and it couldn't happen to a nicer academic'
Why could he go to jail?' the Doctor asked, interested despite himself.
'The Clearspring Water Company is one of his. Look.' Barry took a crumpled print-out from the inside pocket of his jacket. I love it I love it I love it! I knew there was a Santa Claus. It was just a case of knowing what to ask for. Look at this list of companies. Serious academic? Not much. He wouldn't know serious academic study if it bit him in the wallet. As I believe I may have mentioned, the man is just another disgraceful greedy crook. If I'm going down in flames at least I'll take that skinny bum with me. Not that I'm vindictive, you understand. I have nothing against the man personally.
Apart from hating his guts and hoping he dies in a cellar full of rats I have nothing but good feelings towards him.'
The Doctor interrupted, 'What happens if it isn't tap water?'
'Don't you spoil this for me now,' Barry said. ’I've barely had