Doctor Who_ The Green Death - Malcolm Hulke [7]
The young man laughed. ‘Oh, very good! After that, you’ll never believe that I support women’s liberation, will you? But please try to pardon a slip of the tongue.’
‘Thank you,’ said Jo. ‘Now please continue.’
‘Here at Wholeweal we’re trying to find out how to live in a different way. We want to be human beings again—not slaves of machines and industry and finance.’
‘Do you want a world without any machines at all?’ asked Jo.
‘That would be stupid,’ said the young man. ‘What matters is the type of machines we use.’
‘What’s your solution?’
‘Solar energy,’ he said emphatically. ‘The sun is producing great quantities of energy, and we could use it. Instead, we burn oil one way and another, and pollute the air we breathe. And we could use the movement of the wind and the tides and the rivers. Are you warm enough?’
Jo was surprised at the question. ‘Yes, thank you.’
‘Heat from the river,’ he explained. ‘We have a water-wheel in the river at the back of the house. That drives an electrical generator and the electricity keeps the house warm. Alternative technology, you see. No waste. No pollution. Now Panorama Chemicals hope to produce 25% more petrol and diesel fuel from a given quantity of crude oil. But do you realise how they’re going to do that?’
Jo shook her head. ‘Not properly.’
‘The process must be based on Bateson’s polymerisation. And that means thousands of gallons of waste. A thick sludge you can’t break down, like liquid plastic.’ He paused. ‘I think it’s connected with the death of Ted Hughes.’
‘The green man?’ asked Jo. ‘You mean they’ve been pumping this sludge down into the old mine here?’
He nodded. ‘Could be.’
‘That’s terrible,’ said Jo. She looked around the make-shift laboratory. ‘What exactly are you doing in here?’
‘Another side of our work,’ said the young man. ‘Very soon the world’s going to need something to replace meat. A high protein fungus could be the answer.’ He turned to her. ‘Wholeweal isn’t a place for drop-outs, you know.’
‘I didn’t imagine it was,’ she said quickly.
‘I agree that we’ve escaped from the rat race coming here,’ he went on, ‘the city pressures and the foul air. But we are trying to do things that may help the whole world.’
‘This fungus idea,’ said Jo, ‘did Professor Jones think of that?’
‘Professor Jones?’ For a moment the young man seemed puzzled, then he smiled. ‘Oh yes, one of his ideas. You’ve never met him I suppose?’
‘Remember, I’ve only just arrived.’
‘He can be pretty repulsive at times,’ said the young man. ‘Talks a lot about “love thy neighbour” then doesn’t notice the people under his feet. He bites his fingernails and sometimes he just forgets to bath.’
‘He is also a Nobel Prize winner,’ said Jo, defensively, ‘and a very brilliant man.’
‘But he’s only human—or do you regard him as a saint?’
Jo had read so much about the professor, she was affronted by this young man’s remarks. ‘Professor Clifford Jones is just about the most human human being alive today! And I think you’re being very nasty about him.’
The door flew open. A plump woman, aged about thirty, came in and quickly closed the door behind her. ‘Lunch is ready.’ She noticed Jo. ‘Oh, hello.’
‘I’m Jo Grant,’ said Jo.
‘And I’m the girl you spoke to on the phone,’ said the plump woman. She held out her hand. ‘Nancy Banks, but everyone calls me Mum. I hope Cliff hasn’t been talking too much nonsense to you.’
Jo turned in astonishment to the young man. ‘Your name’s Cliff?’
‘At your service,’ said the young man. ‘Professor Clifford Jones.’
Jo’s face filled with anger. ‘And you let me go on saying those things?’
‘They were very complimentary,’ said Jones. ‘It’s nice to be the most human human being.’
While Jo was getting to know Professor Clifford Jones, a half mile away Brigadier Lethbridge Stewart was meeting Dr Thomas Stevens, director of Panorama Chemicals, in his modern air-conditioned office suite. Also present was Mark Elgin, the company’s public relations officer.
‘Security is the main consideration,’ Dr Stevens was saying.
‘Yes, of course,’ agreed the Brigadier