Doctor Who_ The Tomorrow Windows Part 19

The Doctor gave a mock-puzzled look. 'What?'

'All that "can we have an adjournment" stuff.'

'Oh,' said the Doctor. 'I imagine someone wasn't happy with the way things were going.' He dug his hands in his pockets and bounced on his heels. 'Now, stretch legs, I think.'

Nimbit heaved his way up the stairs to his room, gasping with the effort. The gravity on Utopia was far too strong. His legs felt as though they were made of lead.

At last he reached his door, swipe-carded the lock and stumbled inside. He let the card drop to the floor and rested against the wall, catching his breath and dabbing his cheeks with his handkerchief.

He was almost there! Despite the pain in his lungs and the thud of his heart, Nimbit was thrilled. Valuensis would be his! He could go up to twenty-five Arcturan ultra-pods. More than Micron or Poozle could afford, he felt sure.

And he knew something they didn't. He had been leaked the details of a major hyperspatial route that was planned to link through the Valuensis system. Property prices in the area would rocket. He would be able to name his own price. And he could name some very high prices indeed.

103.

Father would be proud, thought Nimbit. If he hadn't died in that unfortunate shooting accident twenty years ago. It was twenty years since the funeral.

Twenty years since the ceremonial detonation of the manor house.

It had been a struggle. Nimbit had invested his life savings in a minor planet. Six months later, it crashed into a minor sun, and Nimbit had turned to drink. In his befuddled stupor, Nimbit gambled the insurance money on a part-share in the marsh moon of Bhaxis.

That proved to be the turning point. When a super volcano chain erupted on Bhaxis, the planet's population was forced to evacuate to the marsh moon.

Nimbit had named some very high prices that day, too.

He hauled himself over to the door. Beside the light switch was a unit that controlled the suite's gravity. He revolved the dial to 'five sec per sec'.

It would take a while for the de-grav to take effect. Nimbit staggered over to the bed and flopped on to his back. This ten sec-per-sec was unbearable.

The other delegates were a strange bunch, thought Nimbit. Fitz, the Doctor and that other chap they didn't seem the type for property speculation at all. Question Intonation seemed intent on winding everyone up rather than bidding. Micron was full of himself, which wasn't very much. And as for Poozle. . .

The crus.h.i.+ng sensation on Nimbit's chest increased.

Odd, he thought.

Maybe it was his body playing tricks on him. He could hear his blood swilling through his ears. He s.h.i.+fted on the bed to get more comfortable, and realised his suit was clammy with cold sweat.

Nimbit took shallower breaths. Each movement was painful.

The gravity. . . he would have to readjust it. Wheezing in frustration, Nimbit attempted to lift himself upright, but found he was stuck to the bed. No matter how much he strained, he couldn't budge.

Nimbit tried to reach for the room service b.u.t.ton, but he couldn't raise his hand from the pillow. It felt as though it weighed a hundred pounds.

The walrus turned his eyes upwards once more. The ceiling was pressing down on him. Crus.h.i.+ng him. . .

104.

Vors.h.a.gg's Story The Vors.h.a.gg race has been the victim of a cruel misapprehension.

The misapprehension arose when the first explorers arrived on Vors.h.a.gg. They stepped out of their shuttle, their recording devices at the ready, and found themselves in the middle of what appeared to be a civil war. The buildings were hollow stepped out of their shuttle, their recording devices at the ready, and found themselves in the middle of what appeared to be a civil war. The buildings were hollow sh.e.l.ls. Smoke clouds wafted through streets piled with rubble and corpses. The sh.e.l.ls. Smoke clouds wafted through streets piled with rubble and corpses. The ground quaked with the crump of distant explosions. ground quaked with the crump of distant explosions.

The survey team took one look at the city and decided to leave. Unfortunately their arrival had not gone unnoticed and they found to their horror that they their arrival had not gone unnoticed and they found to their horror that they were surrounded by twenty tall, thickly built lizards with serrated teeth and were surrounded by twenty tall, thickly built lizards with serrated teeth and dagger-like horns. They barely had time to send out a radio message before the dagger-like horns. They barely had time to send out a radio message before the lizards gouged out their stomachs and chewed off their heads. lizards gouged out their stomachs and chewed off their heads.

The radio message consisted of two and a half words.

'Don't come heaaaaargh!'

For many years, the Vors.h.a.gg race was a byword for all that was bad-tempered and cruel. Other explorers did visit their world, hoping to make names for themselves and nature doc.u.mentaries and a few survived to tell the tale of how and cruel. Other explorers did visit their world, hoping to make names for themselves and nature doc.u.mentaries and a few survived to tell the tale of how they had encountered the Vors.h.a.gg and were now leading full and active lives they had encountered the Vors.h.a.gg and were now leading full and active lives despite the loss of their limbs. despite the loss of their limbs.

The info-texts all told the same story. The Vors.h.a.gg were s.a.d.i.s.tic and callous.

They killed for pleasure.

The Galactic Council could not stand by. Neighbouring planets felt threatened.

Peace-keeping forces were deployed on Vors.h.a.gg to put an end to the hostilities.

The Vors.h.a.gg stopped fighting among themselves and ripped the peace-keeping forces limb-from-limb. forces limb-from-limb.

It was not until the great naturalist and evolutionary biologist Himbert J.

Himbert studied the Vors.h.a.gg race that the truth emerged.

The Vors.h.a.gg race had been the victims of anthropomorphism. Their behaviour was being judged from the perspective of races that had adopted non-adversarial cultures. The Vors.h.a.gg were not barbarians. They had a rich heritage dating back thousands of years. They were intelligent, reasoning beings. dating back thousands of years. They were intelligent, reasoning beings.

They just also happened to be incredibly violent.

It was how their society functioned. To the Vors.h.a.gg, gratuitous and unwar-ranted violent acts were as natural as eating or sleeping. They would attack any living thing that came within striking distance out of pure instinct. Their whole living thing that came within striking distance out of pure instinct. Their whole 105 105 society had been founded on the idea not of co-operation, but of attempting to rip each other's heads off. rip each other's heads off.

A lion mauling a gazelle may seem cruel, but lions are not capable of cruelty.

That is simply how they are. And while the Vors.h.a.gg may seem vicious, ill-humoured and ferocious to the bystander particular to the bystander who has unexpectedly been deprived of his torso the Vors.h.a.gg do not mean it personally. unexpectedly been deprived of his torso the Vors.h.a.gg do not mean it personally.

Himbert also pointed out that, while it may seem that the Vors.h.a.gg were fighting each other for no reason, they actually had a highly organised society which functioned functioned in terms of in terms of them fighting each other. them fighting each other.

The most significant development in understanding the Vors.h.a.gg arrived with the de-aggrifier. This device, when secured to the left frontal lobe of the Vors.h.a.gg brain, would limit their belligerent tendencies and would, in effect, render the de-aggrifier. This device, when secured to the left frontal lobe of the Vors.h.a.gg brain, would limit their belligerent tendencies and would, in effect, render them harmless. With the de-aggrifier, the Vors.h.a.gg subject would be incapable of them harmless. With the de-aggrifier, the Vors.h.a.gg subject would be incapable of harming any living creature. The instinct would remain, but the ability would harming any living creature. The instinct would remain, but the ability would not. not.

The introduction of the de-aggrifier meant that it was possible for Vors.h.a.gg amba.s.sadors to forge relations with other worlds without simultaneously attempting to gnaw their faces off. This, in turn, led to greater understanding, amba.s.sadors to forge relations with other worlds without simultaneously attempting to gnaw their faces off. This, in turn, led to greater understanding, with the Vors.h.a.gg being inducted into the Galactic Council. The ceremony was a with the Vors.h.a.gg being inducted into the Galactic Council. The ceremony was a proud moment for the entire Vors.h.a.gg race, and was only marred when a malfunction of the de-aggrifier belonging to the Vors.h.a.gg diplomat caused it to eat proud moment for the entire Vors.h.a.gg race, and was only marred when a malfunction of the de-aggrifier belonging to the Vors.h.a.gg diplomat caused it to eat the delegate from Largolan Beta. the delegate from Largolan Beta.

'The problem with Mother Nature,' says Welwyn, sweeping a hand through his hair, 'is that she's a cack-handed amateur. So unimaginative! Such a narrow palette!' Using a tele-door handle he slides open a rectangle of another planet.

'I mean, how boring to have trees and clouds and rivers all the time. How tiresome to have to rely on glaciation and tectonics for your mountains. . . '

Through the door I can see fine, white sand and clumps of gra.s.s waving in the slow-motion breeze. There are the ruins of some sort of Greek temple.

Strange birds wheel through the alien sky. The sky has a peculiar wobbling quality, punctured by s.h.i.+fting beams of light.

'It's called Xanadu,' says Welwyn.

'Word of warning.

When you step through, take deep breaths and don't panic.' He grips my wrist and leads me through the door.

It's like stepping into a warm shower. My clothes become damp and cling to my skin. My hair sticks to my scalp and my eyes sting. Worst of all, as I breathe in the air it feels gulpy and sluggish. I snort and choke.

Welwyn won't let go off my hand. I can hear him speaking, though his voice sounds m.u.f.fled, all the treble removed. ' Slow Slow. You'll get used to it.'

106.

I cough and a stream of bubbles pops out of my mouth. As I draw in another breath, I get a cramp in my chest. The air here is thick. I can feel it sluicing down my throat. It's like a liquid We're underwater. Oh my G.o.d, I'm going to drown Welwyn closes the door and grins. Bubbles are popping out of his mouth too. He gives a final cough and beams, drinking in the air, his hands on hips.

He exhales, as though to show me it's safe to breathe.

I feel some tight, painful bubbles squeeze up through my windpipe. It's like belching. Then I take in more of the air, and realise we're underwater, but this stuff we're floating around in. . . it's breathable.

'A special form of water I've developed,' explains Welwyn, his hair drifting about him like an anemone. 'Ultra-oxygenated and one-third density. Your lungs, which are now saturated, can absorb the oxygen content as easily as from the atmosphere. Of course, you'll find it takes a bit more effort to breathe as your lungs aren't used to s.h.i.+fting liquid around, but you'll get used to it.'

I'm about to speak but find my mouth filling with water. I swallow a little, and let the rest flow out of my lips with the last of the bubbles.

We're at the bottom of a shallow ocean. The gra.s.s that I had thought was undulating in the breeze is being stirred by the currents. The soft sand underfoot puffs up into clouds as I step forward. It takes more effort to walk, as I have to push myself forward by shoving my feet into the ground, and sweep my hands behind me in a kind of breast stroke.

Welwyn helps to steady me as the currents tug at my legs. It's a giddying feeling. I feel as though I'm about to laugh.

I look up. Above us is the surface of the ocean. Sunlight glints through the greeny-blue waves. Beyond the waves, a brilliant sun twinkles.

And the birds. . . what I had taken for birds are fish. They sparkle in a mult.i.tude of garish colours. Bright blues and yellows and reds, decorated in stripes. They glide about, beating their way through the air with their fins. They swarm together, forming a curtain of s.h.i.+mmering colour before dissolving into a confusion of a thousand, darting jewels.

'It's beautiful.' My voice is m.u.f.fled. This water-air doesn't carry sound very well. 'I've never seen anything like it.'

'My underwater kingdom!' bubbles Welwyn. He releases my hand, kicks at the ground and floats upwards, pus.h.i.+ng at the air on either side. He lands in the ruined temple.

It's a sunken Acropolis, the columns toppled like giant's dominoes, the Aphrodite statues eroded. Half of the building is lost beneath the snowfall of sand. It's naff, really naff, but I can't help falling for it.

My feet leave the ground and I'm drifting over the rippling gra.s.s. I kick to propel myself forward, pus.h.i.+ng at the water air? with my hands to keep 107 myself afloat.

Welwyn is ahead of me. The gra.s.s gives way to coral of the most vivid colours. Fronds and tubes and gnarled, coiling bushes. Ribbed chimneys with dandelion branches. Reefs like intricate sculptures.

'You designed all this?'

Welwyn nods and points upward. The shoal of jewels twists to form another curtain before scattering among the coral. I spot the cause of their alarm a ray, drifting towards them, its wing flapping languidly.

'Don't get too close to the coral,' shouts Welwyn. 'Some of them are poisonous. Give you a nasty rash.'

I allow myself to drift towards what appears to be a series of upside-down waterfalls. As I float closer I realise they're vents in the ground, each releasing a cascade of bubbles.

'What are these?'

Welwyn brushes his hair from his eyes. 'Ah. Ignore them. They're here to oxygenate the water.'

'It needs oxygenating?'

'Haven't managed to find a way of making it self-regulating. Temporary measure.'

Cl.u.s.tered around the base of each of the vents are piles of what look like dried-up plimsolls. They're the rotten remains of fish, their ribs like spindles, their skin hanging in flakes.

'What about these?'

'Ah. The ecosystem isn't viable either. Yet. We have to s.h.i.+p in a new load of bio-engineered life every couple of days.'

'You mean they die?'

'I haven't quite worked out the specifics of the food chain, so they starve to death. Or. . . '

'Or?'

Welwyn looks at his watch. 'We should be going.'

'Or?'

'This special water we're breathing,' he says. 'It's mildly carcinogenic.'

' Carcinogenic Carcinogenic?'

'Mildly. The equivalent of smoking a cigarette. Every minute. It's absolutely safe, so long as you don't hang around.'

'You mean this whole place is toxic toxic?' I stare back at the gorgeous, multi-coloured coral. 'It's all dying?'

'Temporarily. As soon as we find a way of making it viable ' He falls silent.

'I think I'll show you somewhere else.'

108.

The Doctor leaned on the balcony, staring out across the bay, the ocean glimmering in the blue of his eyes. The thin lines of a smile were traced on the corners of his lips. He was lost in thought. His favourite place in which to be lost.

Dittero rested his elbows on the balcony beside him. 'Doctor.'

'Dittero Shandy.' The Doctor continued to gaze at the sea. 'This. . . racket you're involved in. . . '

'Racket?'

'Come on, Dittero. Your. . . employer happens to own Valuensis. But he can't get anyone to buy it, because it's listed. . . until the Gabaks and the Aztales decide to blow each other to bits and suddenly you have a prime piece of real estate on your hands. Sure to fetch an. . . astronomical figure, if you'll excuse the pun.'

'Coincidence.'

'I don't believe in coincidence. What other planets do you have on offer?'