Doctor Who_ Wooden Heart - Martin Day [30]
‘That’s exactly it,’ said the Doctor. ‘But whose dream is this? And can we get out of it again?’
‘You think all this is some sort of dream?’ asked Martha.
‘Whatever it is,’ said the Doctor, ‘it seems to be breaking down. Those children that are going missing – it’s like having a broken hard drive in a computer. Random chunks of data are just being lost.’
‘But these are people!’ exclaimed Martha. ‘They’re not just strings of zeros and ones!’
‘Are they?’ said the Doctor. ‘They look like people, behave like people – I’ll grant you that…’
‘But you’re always the one telling me not to jump to conclusions,’ said Martha. ‘What right have we to assume that these people don’t really exist? Whatever they are – they’re people, they matter, they have consciousness!’
She paused for a moment, almost physically shaking, wondering where all that had come from, wondering what the Doctor would say. She was also aware that Petr, Saul and Kristine had paused momentarily and were now looking at her intently.
The Doctor waited for the others – who said nothing in response to Martha’s outburst – to return to their chores before continuing. ‘Of course,’ he said in a quiet voice, ‘you’re absolutely right.’ He sounded determined – and calm. ‘We will bring the children back. We can do that from the space station.’
He turned back to Martha, his face strongly lined by shadow. ‘But I don’t think either of us want to be standing right here when reality itself boils away, do you?’
EIGHT
Jude was a good girl and always did what her mother told her. Or, rather, on those occasions when she didn’t do what she was told, Jude always made certain the benefit was worth the risk, and then ensured that her mother never found out.
Jude lay in bed, looking at the stars through the window. She had opened the shutters once her mother had gone back downstairs – the creaking board four steps from the bottom meant Jude always knew when someone had moved out of earshot.
It was a perfect night, with barely a cloud in the sky – though, if she propped herself up on her elbows, she could see that the fog was seeping out of the woods and across the lake towards the village. She kept glimpsing shapes moving about in the mist, then sternly told herself that if you look at anything expecting to see something, you’ll find it soon enough. The reality was, Jude was hoping to see Farah again, though whether this was out of fear or expectation, Jude wasn’t quite sure.
Her mother had said that Saul was going for a meal with Uncle Petr and Auntie Kristine, but that her father was going on his own because he had ‘bridges to mend’. Jude wished grown-ups wouldn’t keep covering over reality with flowery language – it was obvious to everyone that Saul and Petr just liked arguing with each other. The sad truth of the matter was that sometimes Saul became angry, and he didn’t want his daughter or wife around if the two men came to blows.
Jude had asked her mother if the two strangers would be there as well, and she’d said that she supposed so, given that they were honoured guests and were staying with Petr and Kristine. Jude had then asked if the Dazai would be joining them, and her mother had replied that Petr was wary of the old woman and her cryptic advice – and so should Jude be, if she had any sense. Jude hadn’t, in actual fact, seen much of the Dazai over the years, preferring impersonal books from the library to the Dazai’s rambling and elusive wisdom. Anyway, the Dazai seemed to have far too many teeth missing. And she smelled funny – she stank of old skin and hair, not like the wonderful, musky aroma of the documents and manuscripts Jude loved to pore over.
Jude slipped out of bed and started pulling on her thickest blue robes. A pillow under the sheets should fool anyone who glanced in, though she only planned to be gone an hour or so at most. There was something important going on within the village, something that impacted on the future of everyone