Doctor Who_ Placebo Effect Part 14

'Basically this - Darwin's evolutionary theory is in direct contradiction to the Second Law of Thermodynamics, saying that out of an unordered mess, order developed.' Kyle smiled. 'Had enough?'

'Yeah.' Then she held up her hands.'But you can't deny fossils. I mean, hey, they found that bird thing that linked reptiles to avians, didn't they? I don't recall them chancing on a perfectly preserved Garden of Eden.' Sam then crossed her fingers - who knew what had been uncovered by archaeologists since she left Earth in 1997?

'Oh, I agree,' said Kyle. 'For a while, archaeopteryx was indeed supposed to be a link between reptiles and birds. However, once they found true birds in lower rock strata than archaeopteryx, the idea of archaeopteryx being a forerunner of birds simply didn't ring true. Darwin himself said that the greatest threat to his theories would be the fossils record and so far, instead of showing transient species, fossils tend to reveal whole new groups of species that would flourish out of nowhere and then suddenly disappear, such as the dinosaurs. All examples of "evolution" that are offered are microevolution - where traits of a species change but the species doesn't become a new species. You know the pepper moth?'

Sam shook her head. She couldn't quite see how this proved the book of Genesis, but Kyle was a good speaker. And she could always ask the Doctor to take her back to prehistory later. They'd meet either an amoeba or Adam. Maybe take him in a ride in the TARDIS and bring him to Kyle's time.

Hey, that'd shake up the establishment.

'Pollution made the trees black, so to camouflage, the moths apparently became black and when the trees got cleaned, they went grey again. The problem with that theory was that there were always black pepper moths, and just when the trees turned black, they had a better chance of surviving so they flourished. This is not evolution - the pepper moths didn't become something new, they were still pepper moths. Just look at the different races of mankind back on Earth. Caucasians are essentially just the same as Negroids. One has not evolved to be superior to another. No, Sam, despite the evolutionists' theories -and they've had the best publicity, often simply because it can be used to discredit the Bible - there has never been a proven example of macroevolution.'

Sam was not convinced. 'I'm sure I could argue all of those points if I thought about it, you know. I mean, you dismiss evolution so easily, but I simply don't believe that millions of scientists have been wrong all this time, you know?'

Reverend Lukas joined in. 'Ah, but there you see the crux of it all, Miss Jones. None of this is about proof. Or science. Or even religion, G.o.d and the Bible. It's about faith. About standing up for what you believe in. I think it takes an extraordinary amount of faith to believe that all this evolution business happened just by chance - the chance of random energy sparking off life or whatever. It seems to me almost easier to believe in a supreme power. And, to paraphrase the great detective, when you've disproved the probable, surely the improbable must be the answer. You choose to use your faith in science to believe the circ.u.mstances were right, that the transient species' fossils are still waiting to be discovered, and that, for just this once, the Second Law of Thermodynamics didn't apply. That requires a lot of faith, Miss Jones. And to me, well, that is essentially a religion.'

'OK, I think I see where you're coming from, Reverend.' Sam wanted to sit and think about this. All her life, people had told her what to think about issues like these. Her father was a doctor. A scientist, in effect. She had been brought up to accept science as the ultimate truth. But what if Reverend Lukas had a point?

'But it sounds as if you're discarding scientific research in favour of a - frankly - badly written old book.'

'No, Miss Jones - Sam,' said Kyle. "The Church isn't discarding or slavishly agreeing with either. Maybe truth isn't in the hands of some grey-bearded man. Nor is it in fossils beneath the Earth. Truth, Miss Jones, is a universal act of faith. Truth, absolute truth, can only be found in here.' He pointed at Sam's heart.'Everything else is just hearsay.'

Sam glanced over and saw Reverend Lukas's reaction to this. She expected a smile from a proud teacher, pleased his student had conveyed the intended message. Or, at worst, a supercilious patronising glance that would attempt to make her feel two inches tall. Instead, he was frowning at Kyle, as if the boy had done something wrong. The moment he saw that Sam had seen this, he tried to smile, but the spell was broken. This could get very interesting. What was Reverend Lukas's problem now?

'I need time to consider this,' she said.'Although it doesn't shake my belief, my faith if you like, that far more suffering has occurred in this galaxy because of organised religion. If it wasn't there, there would be fewer wars.'

Kyle shook his head. 'Man, Martian, Klepton or Cantryan -everything will find a reason to make war, Sam. For every person who claims that G.o.d has been responsible for more death, more destruction and more evil than anything else overlooks the fact that it is not G.o.d, but one or more mortals abusing G.o.d's name to suit their own purposes. Every war is different. And every invocation of G.o.d's will - no matter what religion practised -varies from year to year, century to century: Sam raised an eyebrow. 'You mean, you don't actually believe that there is a G.o.ddess? You're chasing rainbows?'

Reverend Lukas smiled, broadly. 'I didn't say that, Miss Jones. I have an open mind on the subject. As with all things, there are degrees of belief and reason and proof. I hope to one day meet the G.o.ddess, but if I don't, I am still proud that my life is devoted to following a set of ideals I perceive as being her wishes. I am content to believe without requiring solid proof.'

'But without proof, how can you hold any convictions? That's like me saying I'm a scientist and believe in, oh, I don't know, warp-drive engines that go faster than light, but when I'm asked to show someone such things, I can't.

My credibility goes. Surely your credibility must suffer when you try to tell people that your G.o.ddess wants this, that and the other but cannot offer any solid facts or proof to back up your claim.' Sam smiled. Gotcha. "Then you have to admit that you could be wrong? That you are potentially kidding yourself, chasing a pipedream?'

Reverend Lukas nodded. 'That possibility exists. I am not a fool, Miss Jones. I have to consider that, but having done so, I still believe that without hope, without a goal, mankind, or indeed any race out amongst the stars, will wilt and fall away. My mission in life is to guide the souls of my flock towards a degree of enlightenment. I don't require scientific proof of a divine being, I require only my faith.'

'And that of Kyle here, and the rest of your "flock". Right?' Reverend Lukas nodded in agreement.

'So defend the wedding fiasco!' Sam said suddenly. 'Go on. Defend that, if you can.'

'The G.o.ddess is not against other life-forms, Miss Jones. Merely the belief that each race can only find the absolution and peace it deserves - as all do - through the purity of the soul. And the purity of the soul can only come through the purity of the body.'

Sam paused, then smiled at him.'OK, I grant you this, Reverend. You've given me much to think about. Thank you. I cannot honestly say I agree with you, but what the h.e.l.l! I certainly acknowledge your right to think as you do, however I may disagree with it.'

Reverend Lukas stood up for the first time and held out his hand. 'Even if our motivations and beliefs may not meet each other's standards, let us at least be friends.' He pointed to Kyle. 'Kyle here is taking part in the Games, you know.'

Sam was taken aback by this.

'Oh yes,' said Kyle.'That's why we're here really.'

'So tomorrow,' Reverend Lukas continued,'! thought maybe Kyle could take you to the Stadium. Give you the backstage tour before his daily training session.'

'I'd like that,' said Sam, and Reverend Lukas suggested they meet briefly before breakfast the next morning.

'Kyle will find you somewhere to sleep tonight,' he said, and Sam allowed herself to be led to one of the camp beds, a little apart from the others.

'Thank you, Miss Jones... Sam, for listening.' Kyle began smoothing out the blankets and pillow.

Sam glanced back to where Reverend Lukas was talking to Jolyon and Phillipa, then gave Kyle a big grin. 'This is going to be fun.'

Kyle smiled his appreciation and wandered off to his own bed, leaving Sam to lie down. At last.

She looked again at Reverend Lukas, and did not know exactly how she felt about him, or his 'mission'. She certainty didn't trust him, but his words had at least got her thinking.

Was there more to this? Was she going to turn agnostic? Sam knew she could never truly believe in a G.o.d herself, but was there something else?

Some part of her that actually wanted to find something to believe in? Since she was separated from her parents - h.e.l.l, she'd spent three years on Ha'olam with little more than a slight consideration of their feelings, their fears or worries - was she now searching for something new?

In a way, the Doctor had been that something new for a while. But that was back then - that Sam Jones had been a rather idealistic and frankly embarra.s.sing seventeen-year-old, focusing all her frustrations into the Doctor, believing he could solve everything. What happened in the moonbase on Hirath's satellite showed her back then how badly she'd coped with her Doctor-as-the-be-all-and-end-all-to-life. Since hooking up with him again... well, she'd felt there was something missing. She wasn't about to jump in with Reverend Weirdo Liikas and his band of merry monks - at least she trusted the Doctor - but the evening had genuinely given her food for thought.

And what would the Doctor say about all this? What were his convictions?

There he was, probably safe and tucked up in the Carlton. Or the TARDIS, or somewhere. Meanwhile, she was stuck here, at his request, trying to 'find out' about the Church and why they were here. To stop Stacey's wedding, and play rounders in the Olympics or something? And now it was dark, late, and she could imagine a very belligerent group of Kleptons, probably bailed and slapped on the wrist, who would delight in b.u.mping into her again. Whether she was safe here with Lukas, Sam wasn't sure.

But she was definitely safer.

It felt, in a way, a little like being back at the Mission on Ha'olam... Lying back, tugging the rough blanket around her and hoping to make a swift getaway in the morning, she yawned and, within minutes, was fast asleep.

Chapter 7.

Green Fingers

'Ms Sox, could you come in please?'

Ms Sox frowned at the voice on the intercom. Mr Carrington very rarely used the intercom, in case everyone else heard it. The operations at Carrington Corp were supposed to run so efficiently that it should always look to others as if she and Carrington had a bizarre, almost telepathic relations.h.i.+p.

Truth was, of course, diat Ms Sox carried a tiny vibrating pager in her back pocket which buzzed when he wanted her. But to prying eyes, it just looked liked a well-oiled office machine working perfecdy.

Of course, today, no one had heard the intercom because they were down watching the athletes train. But even so, Chase Carrington shouldn't have done that.

She entered his office and was immediately surprised to see another woman in there. A young lemon-skinned Doradan, her typically snow-white hair cut into a neat bob, was tapping away at a datapad.

Carrington seemed tense, Ms Sox could see diat straight away. 'Where is everyone today?'

'At the Stadium, Mr Carrington, as per your instructions.'

Ms Sox was not entirely sure, but she could have sworn there was a momentary look between Chase Carrington and the new woman.

'Yes, right. Of course. Ms Sox, I want you to meet our new Executive Secretary, Ms Raymond. She's transferred here from Ganymede.'

Ms Sox looked Ms Raymond up and down, noting that the traditional Doradan red tunic had been replaced with a fas.h.i.+onable human trouser suit.'I wasn't aware we needed a new secretary, Mr Carrington. I'll have Ms Raymond added to the payroll at once.'

Carrington stood up.'No, Ms Sox. No thank you. Ms Raymond is on my personal staff, as you are. As such, she receives the same payment schemes and benefits as yourself.'

'Indeed,' Ms Sox was immediately intrigued. This one had completely pa.s.sed her by when she'd been going through Chase Carrington's personal financial projection last week. Why was he playing this so close to his chest? 'In that case, sir, I shall issue an e-memo alerting everyone to Ms Raymond's placement and status. Will that be all, sir?'

'Yes,' he said, then clicked his fingers. Or tried to. Instead, they just slapped against each other pointlessly. Chase Carrington wasn't known for his infirmities, but perhaps he was just tired. Ms Sox was very puzzled now.

This was so unlike him... 'Ms Sox, on no account will anyone enter this office at any time of day or night without alerting Ms Raymond to their arrival first.'

'I understand sir.' "That includes you, Ms Sox.'

'Oh, absolutely, sir. I understand.'

Ms Sox left the office, furious. Something was going on, something that Carrington was not revealing to her. The man had always displayed the occasional eccentricity, but reducing her status and banning her from his office was a new one.

As no one else was around, Ms Sox once again activated her independent holocomputer screen but, instead of checking up on the Doctor, this time she began researching any Doradans, living on Ganymede, calling themselves Raymond. Not the most common of Doradan names. Within moments she had found one. Suki Raymond - the holo showed the woman she had just met - and her biog suggested she had a preference for human males.

'Married... twice. Firstly to one Andrew Raymond, a software designer from Mars Colony 1, then J. Garth Wilc.o.x, CEO of...'

Ms Sox shut the computer off, and swung around. No one was there, yet she felt sure she had been watched by someone.

She glanced at Carrington's closed office door.

'Married to the CEO of a Carrington subsidiary for two hours before his reported suicide. Call me old-fas.h.i.+oned, Ms Raymond, but I didn't notice a black veil or an armband on you just now.'

Ms Sox decided this needed further investigation.

The Foamasi Temple was a stark contrast to the hi-tech sterility the Doctor was used to in the SSS Building.

Painted granite walls, lush creams and purples, dado rails, picture rails, concrete pillars and ornately carved architraves around the doors, beautiful ceiling roses and thick carpets and curtains. If it wasn't for the fact that logic insisted it could only be as old as everything else on Micawber's World (fifteen years, the Doctor guessed, or thereabouts), the Time Lord would have sworn he was standing in something built on Earth, around 1924.

Leading off from the carpeted hallway was a large stairway that split into two directions against the far wall and under those junctions, on the same level as he was, were small corridors, with mosaic flooring. A similar corridor reached away to the right, the more decorative arch that announced it suggesting that this was the way into the Temple proper. The other two were probably service corridors for the staff, and upstairs was probably out of bounds.

Which was a pretty good reason to go up, but he needed the Foamasi Lodges' help right now, so it was best not to offend them.

He paused to look at the paintings (interesting - paintings, genuine oils and watercolours, not holograms or CGIs) which were clearly of important Foamasi Lodge members.

'Can I help you, sir?'

The newcomer was that great universal constant, a butler, there was no getting away from that. He spoke imperiously, wore a black suit with white s.h.i.+rt and black tie and carried a silver salver. The feet that he was a Foamasi, and the salver was held up by his tail, and that he looked faintly ridiculous in the get-up was irrelevant. He clearly took his role seriously, so the Doctor decided to as well.

He placed a calling card on the salver - white with a black stripe and a ?

symbol across it.

'I see, sir. And you wish to see?'

The Doctor smiled.'Gielgud!'

'Me, sir?'

'No, I meant your voice synthesiser... It's John Gielgud! From Arthur ?'

'No, sir. From Arthur 2: On the Rocks , actually. Now, who did you wish to see?'

The Doctor flung his arm around what were presumably the Foamasi's shoulders. 'Tell me, Gielgud, do all Foamasi steal voice synthesisers from twentieth-century human film stars?'

Gielgud stepped away a bit, clearly offended. 'Heavens, no, sir. Whatever gave you that idea? Each Lodge, sir, takes its synthesised voices from a different cultural element of a different planet. Only the Twin Suns Lodge does that.'

'Twin Suns Lodge?'

'Yes, sir. You do not understand the workings of the Foamasi, do you, sir?'

The Doctor shook his head.'I'm awfully sorry, but no. You see, I have come across the West Lodge once or twice, so I a.s.sumed they were compa.s.s-coded.'

Gielgud snorted derisively. 'Humans. No concept of anything outside their own rather mundane sphere of influence.'

'For a man who's stolen the voice of one of Earth's finest actors, I think that's a bit rich, actually. And, anyway, I'm not human.'

Gielgud looked him up and down, his feelers on his face twitching more, his eyes emerging slightly from their sockets and rolling about a bit, taking in the view of the Doctor as much as possible. 'My apologies, I'm not terribly good at aliens. Now, who did you want to see, sir? I have duties to perform.'

'Of course you have.' The Doctor gave him a winning smile. At least, Sam always said it was a 'winning smile'. Not that it often won her over, but it worked on other people. Sometimes.

Gielgud wasn't one of them.

The Doctor shrugged. 'I was told to ask for "Green Fingers". Personally I don't remember an actor called that. Sydney Greenstreet. Hughie Greene.

And a pop star called Johnny Fingers who played the piano. But not a Green -'

Gielgud walked away, so the Doctor opted to follow. 'Nice building.'

'Again, sir, based on Earth during the twentieth century.'

'Naturally.'

Gielgud stopped at another hallway, identical to the last except that the staircase off this one only split one way, to the right, and thus had only the one service corridor. Gielgud pointed to it. 'Down there sir. Third corridor on the right, fifth on the left, second the left and then I believe it is the eighth on the right. Down past some doors until you see a green one, Room 101.

Knock three times.'