Doctor Who_ Set Piece - Kate Orman [50]
She found herself in a vast chamber, the walls and floor grown in pieces in a vat, cryogenic tubes embedded like neon in the walls.
‘What was the point?’ snarled Meijer. ‘What was the crukking point?’ He tightened his grip. ‘We processed a four-year-old this morning. Subject fifty-one. We’ll make her number fifty-two.’
With a movement that was almost graceful, Meijer twisted the arm he was holding one more notch. There was a crack.
The Doctor screamed.
But it wasn’t pain. It was anger.
Kadiatu sat bolt upright in her bed.
What was that?
The book teetered, just held by his fingertips. He muttered something in his sleep about tea.
He woke up with a start.
There was an Ant not a foot away from him.
He dropped Les Misérables.
Its antennae reached for him almost faster than he could react, jolting backwards with such force that he knocked the chaise longue over. He landed hard on the floor, rolling away from the machine.
94
There was a terrible buzzing in his skull, like a kitchen timer gone insane.
The Ant was climbing over the chaise longue to get to him. Soft buzzing. Its attachments whirred like blender blades.
Someone was pouring warm honey into his head.
He scrabbled limply backwards across the floor, but his arms and legs were melting, melting into the sweet heat. The droning dragged at his feet and hands. Keep going, get away! He tried to fight, but there was nothing to fight, only the slow unknotting of his muscles, the sleepiness gnawing at his eyes.
There was a paraffin lamp burning low on the writing desk. He grabbed with hands as heavy as treacle.
Somehow he swung the lamp as the Ant lunged at him. Glass smashed across the hungry metal face. There was a flash of flame and a puff of kerosene smell. The robot reared up, struck at him with metal legs, knocking him gently against the grandfather clock.
When it came down it brushed its antennae across his face, softly.
His whole body turned into honey and melted down the wall.
The Ant loomed over him for a moment, its antennae twitching. The metal sensors traced patterns on his face, stroking his mind. It didn’t hurt, it was gentle, it didn’t hurt it was so soft, tick buzzing, working its way into him gently, tock, it didn’t hurt, alarm clock, tick, ringing, buzzing, tock. Get up!
TICK. Get up! TOCK. Time to, TICK, get up! TOCK. Get up.
95
Chapter 8
Mandelbrot Set Piece
The great god Ra whose shrine once covered acres Is filler now for crossword-puzzle makers.
(Keith Preston)
‘You ever heard of the butterfly effect?’ said Ace.
She and Sesehaten were watching two priests bathe in a small fountain, ritually washing their bodies. They stepped out of the water, and the other Setites handed them clean linen.
Ace had been formally introduced to the group. They were serious men with serious eyes, their mouths set in hard conspiratorial lines. Ex-priests, now clerks – petty officials who had come a long way down in the world. The fountain was behind Senef’s house, and behind the fountain was a cave, a vertical slit in the cliff. ‘What’s in there, Sesehaten?’
‘My name,’ said the scribe, ‘is Sesehset.’
‘You had to change your name when Pharaoh brought in the new religion, right?’
Sesehset blew out a long sigh, disturbing the motes of dust swirling in the dawn air. ‘He changed his name, and everyone followed suit. He was born Amenhotep, in honour of Amun, the first of gods. I suppose in some ways we should be grateful. Our temples and estates were confiscated, our priests put out of work and the care, the feeding of Set left undone. But Amun’s temples –’ He shook his head. ‘Akhenaten’s men swarmed over the land like wasps. Everywhere they found Amun’s name, they hacked it out with a chisel.
Even in Akhenaten’s own father’s name. Temples, tombs, royal inscriptions, it made no difference.’
‘I’ve heard the gossip in the tavern,’ said Ace. ‘Pharaoh won’t let anyone else worship the way they want to. Everybody