Doctor Who_ The Algebra of Ice - Lloyd Rose [29]
‘My mind won’t stop. It runs round and round like a hamster.’
‘Then you should definitely go to –’
‘A hamster in a wheel, I mean. Not a hamster running to and fro. A hamster doing that gets somewhere. Did you ever own a hamster? I did. It went to live in the sofa.’
‘Where I dare say it was very happy.’
‘I think it starved to death. But we never found the body.’
Brett leaned over him, one hand on the chair back. ‘You’re not going off on me, Pat old man?’ he said in a dreadfully soft voice. ‘Not going off on me, eh?’
Unwin’s eyes snapped open. He stared into Brett’s face for a second, then looked away. ‘No. No, of course not.’
‘There’s a lad.’ Brett smiled and patted his arm. ‘Now, off to bed.’
On the first storey Brett had refurbished a room, formerly a small parlour, to serve as Unwin’s work station. It contained no fewer than three computers, as well as shelves of books and journals. Brett rarely entered it, preferring to leave that sort of thing to Unwin, who knew how it worked. He himself was just barely computer literate. But he had some grasp of the basics, and after leaving Unwin collapsed fully clothed on his bed – to hell with him if he woke up sick – Brett went down to the workroom and seated himself at the middle computer.
He examined the keyboard for a few minutes, trying to remember exactly what he had seen Unwin do to call up the program he wanted. Usually he’d just read over Unwin’s shoulder, but a few times he’d watched him key in the codes. After a couple of false starts, he found the correct site and clicked on the Contact icon.
Originally, Unwin had communicated in equations and sets of numbers that Brett found incomprehensible, but after a few weeks their correspondent had worked out enough English to make this unnecessary. With one finger – there was no reason he should ever have learned to type – Brett typed the word
‘Contact’. Nothing happened. He watched the screen tensely as if by looking away he might miss something. Minutes passed. At last, he decided he didn’t know what he was doing after all and was about to hit Exit when a word materialised letter by letter:
HERE
Chapter Seven
63
Quickly he typed:
THIS IS BRETT
YES
I AM UNWIN’S PARTNER
YES
WE HAVE BEEN DISCUSSING THE FAILURE
YES
ASIDE FROM THE INCOMPLETE CALCULATIONS HERE, IS THERE ANY PROBLEM ON YOUR SIDE?
YES
Loquacious bastard, Brett thought.
WOULD YOU DESCRIBE IT TO ME?
NO
‘Oh for Christ’s sake,’ Brett said aloud.
WHY NOT?
IT IS TOO TECHNICAL FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND.
TRY TO COMMUNICATE ON MY LEVEL
WHAT?
Brett took a deep breath, then, lips tight, typed: TRY TO EXPLAIN IT TO ME IN AWAY I MIGHT UNDERSTAND
Several minutes passed. Brett waited impatiently.
THERE IS A PROBLEM WITH LACK OF POWER
YOU DO NOT HAVE AN ADEQUATE POWER SOURCE?
YES
YOU THOUGHT THAT YOU DID BUT DISCOVERED YOU DID NOT.
NOT ENOUGH POWER TO COME THROUGH YOU MUST SUPPLY MORE
COMPLETE CALCULATIONS THEN WE WILL NOT NEED AS MUCH POWER
IS THERE ANY WAY TO SUPPLY YOU WITH POWER FROM THIS SIDE?
Another pause.
THERE MAY BE
WHAT?
THE MAN WHO DREW THE CIRCLE THAT PREVENTED US
EXPLAIN
IRRATIONALITY
EXPLAIN FURTHER
IRRATIONALITY
‘Jesus,’ Brett muttered.
STOP HIM
64
The Algebra of Ice
WHO IS HE?
WE DO NOT KNOW
HOW WOULD I KNOW HIM WHAT DOES HE LOOK LIKE?
THE QUESTION IS MEANINGLESS.
IS THERE ANYTHING UNUSUAL ABOUT HIM?
HIS ENERGY IS DIFFERENT
HOW?
DIFFERENT
It was like questioning a bloody Ouija board.
IF I MET HIM WOULD I SENSE THIS ENERGY?
NO
BUT HE DREW THE CIRCLE HE WAS IN THE FIELD
YES
BUT I CANNOT FIND HIM?
WE HAVE BEEN FINDING
FINDING HIM?
POWER
IS HIS ENERGY THE POWER?
PERHAPS WE ARE TRYING UNWIN IS HELPING
HELPING HOW?
HE UNDERSTANDS THE NUMBERS
WHICH NUMBERS?
THE PRIME NUMBERS
The bloody prime numbers. Brett supposed he’d have to get Pat to explain them again and listen this time. He typed: END CONTACT
STOP HIM
THE MAN WHO DREW THE CIRCLE?
YES. STOP HIM.
HOW?
HE IS DANGEROUS STOP HIM
HOW?
END CONTACT
‘Come back you bastard!