Doctor Who_ The Algebra of Ice - Lloyd Rose [75]
‘The pressure of the attempted entries puts a strain on the continuum. It causes small time glitches. Usually they’re self-correcting.’
154
The Algebra of Ice
‘But this time I made that impossible.’
The Doctor nodded. He looked a hundred years old, Brett thought. How long had he lived?
‘Accident intruded,’ said Brett.
‘Accident is generally on my side.’ The Doctor’s voice was hoarse.
‘This one time rather cancels out all the others.’
‘They still may not have enough power.’
‘Then we’ll solve that problem,’ Brett said calmly. ‘Just as we solved this one.’
For a long time after Brett left, the Doctor simply lay still and waited. Near dusk, he heard the front door open and shut. Brett going to check the site? In any case, Brett going. He sat up and eyed the chair. The situation was far from ideal. The bed was iron and disposed to stay put. With a resigned little sigh, he pulled off the top sheet and, humming quietly, proceeded to tear it into strips.
Once he had tied the strips together and formed a loop, the Doctor studied the logistics again. He was certain he could get the loop over the chair back, but after that difficulties presented themselves. The chair was facing him, the most awkward possible position in which to be dragged. There’d be maximum resistance, and if he weren’t careful, he was liable to tip the thing over. That the bed sat on a rug was also discouraging: it would be hard to get the chair legs over the edge.
Well, one step at a time. He crouched clumsily on his knees and, after a few tries, got the makeshift lasso spinning. Easily, as if simply setting it in place, he dropped the loop over the chair back. So far, so far. A discomfiting thought occurred to him. What if Brett had taken the remaining contents of his pockets away to poke through later? He was scuppered then. Well, no sense worrying about it. Slowly, he started to edge the chair towards him.
‘You’ve got to get out of here.’
The Doctor froze, then, very carefully, looked over his shoulder. Unwin was closing the door with finicky precision. He nodded at the Doctor. ‘I am going to get you out of here.’ His voice was a thick whisper. He was so drunk the Doctor was amazed he was upright. ‘Get you out of here.’
‘That’s good,’ the Doctor said supportively.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Oh. . . just a thing.’ The Doctor sat down. ‘If you’ll only hand me my jacket, I’ll be on my way.’
Unwin sank onto the end of the bed. ‘He’s going to kill you.’
‘I rather assumed that. Good of you to come rescue me. If you’ll only –’
Chapter Eighteen
155
‘I don’t know what happened,’ Unwin continued, tears running down his cheeks. ‘We were at school together. I only ever wanted to do my work. I didn’t know all this would happen. This cruelty.’
‘Unwin,’ said the Doctor slowly, ‘what did you think was going to happen?
When you finished the computations?’
Unwin waved a careless hand. ‘Some Utopian something-or-other. Brett’s idea. Save the world.’
‘Freeze-dry it,’ murmured the Doctor.
‘I didn’t care about any of that. Results aren’t the point. The work is the point.’
‘Thank you, Dr Oppenheimer.’
‘What?’
‘Never mind. You know, if you’d only get my jacket for –’
‘The world is hideous,’ said Unwin, ‘but the work is beautiful. Mathematics doesn’t rot. It doesn’t fade. Numbers are eternal.’
‘Well, more or less. Once the universe is drained to nothing, there won’t be anything to count.’
‘Numbers exist independent of their referents.’
‘And there won’t be anyone around to know that. Unwin, Brett might return to us any minute. Please get my jacket.’
‘Where is it?’
‘On the chair.’ The Doctor took Unwin’s head and turned it. ‘There. See?’
‘Why don’t you get it?’
‘Because I am cuffed to a bed.’
‘Oh.’ Unwin squinted at the Doctor’s wrist. ‘Right. How’d you get like that?’
‘Remember this Brett who’s going to kill me?’
‘Not if I can help it!’
‘And you can. Please – the jacket.’
Unwin wobbled around the bed and picked up the jacket. He stared at it.
The Doctor beckoned encouragingly. Unwin turned his watery eyes on him.
The Doctor winced at