Doctor Who_ The Algebra of Ice - Lloyd Rose [43]
‘Isn’t that nice?’ Brett said softly. ‘All the more reason to make his acquain-tance.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Whatever else the Doctor might be, Ethan had to concede that he was a genius.
He had leaned over Ethan’s shoulder as he started in on Unwin’s calculations and pointed out a few errors that he assured Ethan a human being would have caught sooner or later, though ‘later’ might be several years from now. The solutions had the elegant beauty that had lured Ethan into mathematics in the first place and he examined them with something like awe.
‘ “A wild surmise”,’ said the Doctor.
Ethan removed his attention from the screen. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Nothing,’ said the Doctor. ‘References, see under Obvious.’
‘They’re another world,’ Ethan murmured, turning again to the equations,
‘different from ours but complete in itself, in a state of perfection.’
‘Which is also stasis.’
‘Perhaps not. An alphabet is static until it forms words, and the words refer to concepts, and the concepts move in the mind and become speech, and speech forms the world.’
‘The French linguists would disagree strongly, but I think you have a point.’
The Doctor straightened. ‘There’s enough there to keep you busy for days. I’ll just pop off then.’
‘What will you be doing?’
‘Oh, things,’ said the Doctor vaguely. He paused at the door. ‘I suppose Ace will be dropping by to see how you’re progressing and whether you need to consult with me.’ His expression was neutral and courteous. Ethan swallowed.
‘Right,’ he said.
The Doctor smiled and left.
The Doctor had indeed been doing things, Ace discovered as she walked through the TARDIS. She kept finding various little constructions of wire and metal and glass, some with gears or antennae. These tended to appear whenever the Doctor was concentrating hard on a problem. She didn’t know whether they served to distract and amuse him or whether they really were the proto-types of fantastic machines. For a long time she hadn’t been certain they were Chapter Eleven
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actually the work of the Doctor – perhaps the TARDIS created them for its own mysterious purpose. When she’d finally got up the nerve to ask about them, he had said yes, they were his. But he didn’t elaborate.
Ace had a nice long bath. Somewhere, the Doctor had found a frowning rubber duck with horns on its head, and presented it to her. Now she floated it on the soapy water, occasionally kicking at it moodily. She didn’t understand this thing with Ethan. She really didn’t. He wasn’t her type at all. They didn’t have anything in common, except – she surprised herself by colouring slightly
– for what they, well, had in common, which she had to admit was fantastic. In fact, some of the best – she broke off the thought by submerging her head. He was naff, totally and completely and embarrassingly naff. Except in –
She surfaced violently, splashing water everywhere and turning the duck upside down.
And what was the Doctor going to say? she wondered nervously, rinsing herself off. She’d been asking herself that since this morning, waiting for him to mention it. But the Doctor had been cheerful and noncommital, as if nothing had happened. Maybe things would just go on like that – though in a funny way she wanted to confide in him, or at least in someone. Why didn’t she have a mother figure as well as a father figure? Or at least a girlfriend.
She found the Doctor, as usual, bent over the TARDIS console. He was frowning slightly.
‘Hi,’ she said hesitantly.
‘I don’t understand this, Ace,’ he said without looking at her.
‘No? Well –’
‘It’s complicated in all the wrong ways. Nothing quite comes together.’
The last sentence could hardly describe her and Ethan; Ace relaxed. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘I’ve been assuming that this crop-pattern business and the time anomalies and Unwin’s work on entropy are connected.’
‘Stands to reason.’
‘A bit post hoc propter hoc though. They could be unrelated. Coincidences do happen.’
‘Yeah, but –’
‘These time shifts, for example. I’ve been to look at a number of important