Doctor Who_ Unnatural History Part 39

'Could be any of 'em,' said a boy from over his shoulder.

'Could be all of 'em,' said the first boy.

The boy in his grip smiled slowly. 'You ain't never gonna know.'

There was silence, except for the dying crackle of the generator. Slowly the Doctor let go of the boy, gathered himself up, and wiped his hands down his jacket. 'I think I can live with that,' he said.

Epilogue: The Other Woman 241.

'Yeah. It's more interesting if you don't know for sure.' The boys were forming a circle around him, two or three deep, throwing words at him from all directions. 'But that was a pretty cool trick you pulled.'

'Telling Sam to do something which you must have known known only Blondie could do.' only Blondie could do.'

The Doctor stared. 'You think I. . . '

'Making it urgent.'

'And putting her right next to the thing she needed to change herself.'

'Real clever of you.'

'You're making this up,' said the Doctor. 'There's not a shred of a reason to '

'Doesn't matter.'

'It could still be true anyway.'

'Couldn't it?'

'Couldn't it?' said the Doctor, raising an eyebrow.

The kids stopped in their tracks, looking up at him. 'Clever of me, wasn't it?' he said, folding his arms. 'I get back my original companion. I take care of Griffin and the scar in a single move.'

One of the kids let out a long, low whistle.

'Or I could be lying,' the Doctor added. 'I do that, you know. But keep guessing. In the end I'm the only one who knows me, and I think I like it that way.'

The first boy smirked. 'Good, you're learning. You'll be one of us yet, grandad.'

The other boys were falling back into place, picking up the rhythm of their disa.s.sembly line.

The Doctor stood and watched, deep inside himself in thought.

'Face it,' said the boy. 'We win.'

'No,' said the Doctor. He let out a breath. 'No. Sam wins.'

She locked the flat for the last time, and turned and walked away. No more past, no more impostor. I just am who I am right now.

Her last lie was in her pocket. A lie of convenience, of omission mostly.

She took it out and looked at it again. It was a postcard: Dear Mum and Dad, Dear Mum and Dad, I'm safe and well, but you won't be seeing me for a while. I'm safe and well, but you won't be seeing me for a while. And when you next see me, she thought, I'm going to be blonde. And when you next see me, she thought, I'm going to be blonde.

If you're even the same ones I'm going to see, when I come back once time's settled down. For all I know, you're completely different people from my parents which would make facing you even harder.

242.

Soon, Dad and Mum. But not yet. Not quite yet.

She took out the postcard her dark-haired self had written for her. You could tell it was the same handwriting, even at a glance: You can't change my life, any You can't change my life, any more than I can change yours more than I can change yours, it said.

But you have. You made mine. And you gave me the chance to be more than you were. The other Sam had never built a house, drunk coca tea on Nephelokokkugian, dangled in a climbing harness halfway up the side of a mesa. And she had.

(Had she?) Didn't matter, she could. And dark-haired Sam wouldn't even have thought it was possible, if not for her.

From this point, she thought, we can go anywhere.

And from their gathering places in the Eleven-Day Empire, the Mothers and Fathers of the Faction looked down upon the boy's work and p.r.o.nounced it good. His methods had been crude at times, with little of the long fingered elegance favoured methods had been crude at times, with little of the long fingered elegance favoured by his elders, but his results were a thing of spiralling beauty. by his elders, but his results were a thing of spiralling beauty.

And as they watched, still more fractal possibilities began to blossom. To their quiet delight, they could see how these events would lead to further glorious recur-sion. The Doctor himself was nearly ready, as the threads that had begun weaving quiet delight, they could see how these events would lead to further glorious recur-sion. The Doctor himself was nearly ready, as the threads that had begun weaving through his history lifetimes ago tightened inexorably into a knot. through his history lifetimes ago tightened inexorably into a knot.

This one was so close to being ideal for them. . . the joy with which he upset the established orders, his desire to leave his past behind, all fitted their aims the established orders, his desire to leave his past behind, all fitted their aims precisely. Even so, he still wasn't ready to embrace the glory of Paradox; he was precisely. Even so, he still wasn't ready to embrace the glory of Paradox; he was less interested in the beauty of the pattern, than in that of the one little girl's life less interested in the beauty of the pattern, than in that of the one little girl's life contained therein. contained therein.

But he would still be useful.

Eyes glittering in the darkness, the Mothers and Fathers of the Faction leaned forward as one, to watch as the final moments of this timeline played itself out. forward as one, to watch as the final moments of this timeline played itself out.

Except that they didn't.

Because none of this ever happened.

The Book of Lies The Book of Lies, page 347 In fact, details from the t.i.tle on down reinforce the theory that the supposedly secret Book of Lies Book of Lies was in fact intended for an audience outside the Faction. Faction was in fact intended for an audience outside the Faction. Faction Paradox is known for embracing and exploring alternate possibilities for the universe, to the point where their concepts of 'truth' and 'lie' are vague to the point of Paradox is known for embracing and exploring alternate possibilities for the universe, to the point where their concepts of 'truth' and 'lie' are vague to the point of Epilogue: The Other Woman Epilogue: The Other Woman 243.

meaninglessness. The use of these terms in the book, and the insistence on absolute falsehood, suggest that it was written as an exercise to lead noninitiates into embracing the Faction's way of thinking. It pulls the reader through a hedge maze embracing the Faction's way of thinking. It pulls the reader through a hedge maze backwards, as it were, until they are left questioning their a.s.sumptions about fact backwards, as it were, until they are left questioning their a.s.sumptions about fact and linear reality. (Such sowing of doubt among believers is a common prose-lytism technique among deconstructivist religions cf the writings of the Dada and linear reality. (Such sowing of doubt among believers is a common prose-lytism technique among deconstructivist religions cf the writings of the Dada cult.) cult.) Therefore it seems likely that the contents themselves were concocted for this purpose, and do not in fact represent secret knowledge of the Faction's at all. purpose, and do not in fact represent secret knowledge of the Faction's at all.

Introduction to Quantum Esotericism, 2nd Edition Introduction to Quantum Esotericism, 2nd Edition, Watkinson & Thripsted, page 275 i i b.o.l.l.o.c.ks, this whole entry was copied word for word out of the Book of Lies Book of Lies itself. itself.

Don't believe a word of it. But then, why should you listen to me?

anonymous yellow sticky note found affixed to page 275 of Introduction to Introduction to Quantum Esotericism Quantum Esotericism The postcard thudded to the bottom of the empty pillar box. Sam hesitated for just a moment after letting it go. She was getting too good at slipping away quietly. Too good at saying goodbye.

'h.e.l.lo,' said the Doctor from behind her.

She turned around, a big grin spreading across her face. They put their arms around one another and hugged.

After a few moments she leaned back, looking up at him. 'Got the old man sorted out?'

The Doctor grinned back at her. 'All loose ends duly tied up,' he said. 'Although San Francisco will never be the same. . . '

'It never was the same,' said Sam. They started walking back, side by side.

'Yeah, I saw something on the box this morning. About a dragon at the airport.

The mainstream media have finally started to notice.'

'Mmm. The changes are going to take some getting used to.'

Sam said, 'You must miss her a lot.'

The Doctor stopped for a moment, touched her hair, ran a gentle hand through it.

'Think we could import one of those dragons?' said Sam. 'Maybe London could use a few fabulous creatures.'

244.

'Perhaps we should stay, then.'

Sam slapped his arm, laughing. 'Oh, behave!'

Their steps quickened as they approached the tiny sc.r.a.p of park down the street. Ahead was the TARDIS, parked beside the old wooden roundabout. Fitz was sitting on the roundabout, pus.h.i.+ng himself back and forth with his foot, idly. He jumped up when he saw them.

There was something a little smug in the smile he gave her. What was he thinking? I know what your body feels like? You're alive thanks to me?

If it was enough to get him smiling again, she decided, then she didn't mind.

2), the postcard had gone on, The Doctor. The Doctor.

The words were an even more desperate scrawl by that point; she must have known her time was running out: Don't know if I really want to go with him. If Don't know if I really want to go with him. If I'll have the choice. But even if you don't whatever you do, don't go back. Please. I'll have the choice. But even if you don't whatever you do, don't go back. Please.

I mean it. Burn down the flat if you have to. Just don't end up back in the same old life. You can do more. Remember that. THERE IS MORE OUT THERE. old life. You can do more. Remember that. THERE IS MORE OUT THERE.

If his magic's good for anything, that's it.

Got to go The Doctor took the TARDIS key out of his pocket. 'Where now?' he asked Sam, his eyes sparkling.

She smiled back at him, and looked up at the sky. 'Somewhere else,' she said.

Acknowledgements .

The Invocation to the G.o.d in Chapter 5 was co-written by Steven Caldwell and Kate Orman.

The authors would like to express our grat.i.tude to: The read-through crew: Todd Beilby, Steven Caldwell, Peter Griffiths, Stephen Groenewegen, Simon Moore, Andrew Orman, and especially David Carroll and Kyla Ward. Plus the international crew: Dave Owen, Neil Marsh, Becky Dowgiert, Greg McElhatton, Rachel Jacobs, Sadron Lampert, Marsha Twitty, Jeff Weiss and Peter Anghelides. This book would be much poorer without their input.

Russell Brooks, Linda and Rachel Middleton, Chris Pettett and Stephen Stone for the loan of their monsters. Graeme Nattress, for the little Mandelbrot.

Jennifer Tifft, for local colour and a ton of suggestions.

Arturo Magidin for facts and photography.

Steve Ford, for iguana advice.

Everyone who's partic.i.p.ated in the discussions on the Eighth Doctor authors'

e-mail list: (deep breath) Peter, Mark, Nick, Dave, Justin, Mike, David, Paul, Paul and Paul. Most of all Lance Parkin for encouragement and feedback.

And especially Lawrence Miles, Phil Segal and Robert DeLaurentis, for making the toys we played with.

Special thanks to Special K.