Well, I didn't manage to get my review completed, and now I never will -
because this is the last day. I have some friends going to an
end-of-the-world party tonight; if the more apocalyptic ancient Mayans
were wrong and there is another day (the first of the next Long Count)
they'll be cheering and pulling party poppers just after midnight.
Because, y'know, those Mayans calculated everything using Greenwich Mean
Time.
Me, I won't be there because we're hosting a Winter Solstice party,
which is an altogether more hopeful (and repeatable) event. The longest
night - halfway through the dark. Not, as some might have it, halfway out of
the dark, because that would presumably be midway between the Solstice
and the Spring Equinox, but why quibble? (Ans.: Because it's fun. Until
someone takes it too far.)
The thing is, there's a lot of this sort of stuff going on at the
moment. My aunt's 99th Birthday party was three days ago (although my
back meant I couldn't go), and there's some newfangled celebration
happening in four days time that people seem to have got quite excited
about. And all this means I'm going to be spending a lot of time away from
the computer.
So instead of dazzling you with my reviewing prowess (or not, as the
case may be), I'll wish you a happy celebration of your choice. Take it
easy, be excellent to one another, and I'll see you on the other side.
Fingers crossed.
Next Time:
My review of The Lion... eventually. Don't hold your breath!
Friday 21 December 2012
Monday 17 December 2012
The Talking Stones of Tyron Bonus Material
Not David Richardson: Hello! I'm here with the author of The Talking Stones of Tyron, John G. Wood.
John G. Wood: Hello.
NDR: Hello. So, John: How did you come to be writing this two-parter?
JGW: It was all a bit of a last-minute decision, really. I was watching The Lion, the first episode of The Crusade, which is part of the Lost in Time boxset; and there was an introduction by William Russell.
NDR: In character as Ian Chesterton.
JGW: Exactly. It may contradict a comment in The Sarah Jane Adventures, but in my mind Ian does grow old.
NDR: That's the beauty of fan fiction: you can ignore whatever you want.
JGW: Yes, though there's also plenty of expanded universe material that I can point to as a counter-example anyway.
NDR: So, you were watching the introduction. What did you think of it, by the way?
JGW: I liked it.
NDR: Can I press you for more? I'm sure the listen... um, readers would want to know.
JGW: Well, I suppose it was a bit cheesy; but that doesn't really bother me, and William Russell always adds a touch of class. It was quite stilted as a monologue - doing it as an interview might have been better - but it got the job done, gave us a chance to actually see the older Ian in action (which is something Big Finish can't) and showed that he was doing alright for himself in later life. Which was nice.
NDR: And Tyron?
JGW: Oh, yes. Well, Ian mentioned a couple of previous adventures, neither from TV, which was a pleasant surprise. The one I didn't recognise was The Talking Stones of Tyron. A quick Internet search told me that this was an unwritten adventure, first mentioned in the novelisation of the Crusade. It was a fascinating title, and immediately conjured up for me the landscape covered with stones described in the flashback sequence of Barbara's second viewpoint section.
NDR: This is your first mixed-viewpoint story, isn't it?
JGW: Yes - at least, my first for Doctor Who. Actually, it works quite well, because I'm now very familiar with Ian's voice, reasonably so with Barbara's - and not at all with Vicki's. So it gave me a chance to practise hers without having to keep it up for the whole story.
NDR: Despite the changing viewpoints, you've made this very much Vicki's story.
JGW: It seemed to me that she's been a hanger-on since she joined, and I thought it would be nice to make her a bit more proactive before we got to The Space Museum. That way it's not so much of a jump when she takes charge there. I don't know if she does that more in The Crusade, because I don't remember it very well; but hopefully it won't clash.
NDR: So basically, you're trying to smooth out the development of a character? Thinking about the overall narrative of the show?
JGW: You make it sound like some grand design! That was just a hook I used to provide some character motivation - it was something I noticed as I was writing Vicki's thoughts, and ran with it. My only idea at the start was to write a story featuring the talking stones, because they sounded cool.
NDR: Let's talk about the stones.
JGW: Well, I suppose it is their Fiftieth anniversary.
NDR: Har Har. Your stones have already been praised as "clever and original", and "a unique alien threat".
JGW: Yes, I was chuffed to see such a positive comment before I'd even finished posting the whole story!
NDR: I'll ask the obvious question: where did you get the idea from?
JGW: Heh. Well, half of it came pretty much straight away. I had this sunflower seed pattern as an image in my mind - I put in the Fibonacci bit because this is set fairly early in the show's history, where a little scientific exposition is compulsory in an SF adventure - and I wondered if I could keep the stones as they were in my head, rather than make them move about like Ogri or something. Telepathy seemed an obvious get-out, but then I wondered if they could use people to speak through.
NDR: Like Stephen Hawking in reverse!
JGW: Well, yes. But I hadn't thought about them being anything to do with computers at that point.
NDR: So when did you come up with that?
JGW: Really late in the day. I'd already posted the whole of the first episode and written the first couple of sections of the second.
NDR: As late as that?
JGW: Yep.
NDR: Wow. So basically you wrote the first half of the story without knowing where it was going?
JGW: Not exactly. I knew where it was going; what I didn't know was why. What was the motivation of the stones? How did they arise? That was what was missing. But I knew what they were going to do - the scenes of the Doctor rejecting Vicki and Ian being captured were the first to form in my mind. I had one in mind for Barbara, too, but that changed completely before I got to it.
NDR: Isn't it important to know the 'why', though?
JGW: Sometimes. That's one of the challenges of doing these serialised fiction pieces in the blog: I always have to post a section before I'm really ready. But it's good, too, because it forces to me keep on writing come what may. My (unpublished) novel was written in a completely different way. The beginning came first, then the end, then key scenes in the middle; and lastly I connected up the dots, as it were.
NDR: Which do you prefer?
JGW: Tricky. I probably get a better result if I lay down the key scenes first, but writing in order is certainly quicker.
NDR: I thought the tension built well in the first episode.
JGW: Thank you. Sadly, the reading public didn't agree. I don't have access to viewing numbers on Gallifrey Base, but on elvwho every time I switch to fanfic I immediately lose two thirds of the readership, and that rapidly tailed off even more during Dialogue Disasters. Scene 3 has my lowest ever viewing figures - only one page view! In contrast, my review of The Escape - my most popular post, for some reason - has had 140 page views, and even the more recent Echoes of Future Past, sandwiched between the two episodes of this story, has got to 20.
NDR: You sound bitter.
JGW: No, I didn't mean to. It's just... well, let's say it's a good job I'm doing it for my own benefit, and not for acclaim. Though, having said that, I'd stop if I never got any positive feedback like bethhigdon's comment.
NDR: So, getting back to the story for a moment-
JGW: Sorry.
NDR: No, no, it's fine. I just wondered how you came to write such a different second episode?
JGW: It wasn't just the stones' motivation I lacked. I realised that I could see two possible ways for the story to go: either everyone got captured, in which case I couldn't see a way out; or they weren't, but then the stones were just stuck sitting there until Vicki thought of something. Neither provided much tension. I also spotted that it was hard to switch viewpoints when Vicki was the only one still free!
NDR: Is that when you decided to do some sections from the stones' points of view?
JGW: Exactly. And once I did I had to differentiate between the three of them to keep the dialogue interesting, so I came up with the idea of the stones thinking with their captives' minds.
NDR: Well, I certainly felt that made them more creepy.
JGW: So did my son! And it was while writing the first of these scenes that I came to a couple of conclusions. I decided that the focus of the episode had to shift from the conflict - because there was nowhere for that to go, really - to character, and that I should make it a character piece not just for Vicki, but also for the stones. Which meant that there had to be room for the reader to feel some sympathy for them, even while they were still a threat.
NDR: It's certainly a gradual reveal. I really disliked the stone-Doctor in his first scene.
JGW: Good! I tried to plant a few seeds, there, but still have him come across as a manipulative b-
NDR: Like the real Doctor, in a way.
JGW: But less cuddly.
NDR: Well, he is made of stone!
JGW: Anyway, while I was writing that scene I realised that I had these big lumps of silicon and a wireless means of communication, and it was like a computer network in a way; and the image of Tyron as a massively parallel computer with silicon and organic parts just seemed to fit. Everything just sort of fell into place then.
NDR: What about the epilogue? You seemed quite unsure about that.
JGW: Yes, and I still am! Obviously it's my first time writing for another Doctor, and it's a team not all the readers will have much experience with, being audio only.
NDR: I would have thought that anyone who is likely to read your story will know the seventh Doctor and Ace; it's just Hex who hasn't appeared on TV. Any particular reason for including him?
JGW: His reactions provide a great contrast to Ace's. I could just imagine him on that rooftop, trying to take it all in. I hope I didn't overdo the accent and verbal tics. But actually, that's not my biggest worry.
NDR: Which is...?
JGW: That the serial might work better without a happy ending, with the fate of the stones left hanging. It doesn't matter how well (or badly) that epilogue is written if it deflates the story. Even my wife - who did an English degree - couldn't tell me if it was a good idea or not.
NDR: I see. Thank you, you've given us some interesting insights into a fanfic author's mind. Is there anything else you want to add?
JGW: Can I just say that lunch here has been a bit of a disappointment? I had hoped I could imagine something as tasty as Big Finish's famed offerings, but it's all been a bit... bland.
NDR: We'll try and do better next time. John, thank you very much.
JGW: You're welcome.
Next Time:
What, you want an actual review? How about The Lion? Probably coming Friday...
John G. Wood: Hello.
NDR: Hello. So, John: How did you come to be writing this two-parter?
JGW: It was all a bit of a last-minute decision, really. I was watching The Lion, the first episode of The Crusade, which is part of the Lost in Time boxset; and there was an introduction by William Russell.
NDR: In character as Ian Chesterton.
JGW: Exactly. It may contradict a comment in The Sarah Jane Adventures, but in my mind Ian does grow old.
NDR: That's the beauty of fan fiction: you can ignore whatever you want.
JGW: Yes, though there's also plenty of expanded universe material that I can point to as a counter-example anyway.
NDR: So, you were watching the introduction. What did you think of it, by the way?
JGW: I liked it.
NDR: Can I press you for more? I'm sure the listen... um, readers would want to know.
JGW: Well, I suppose it was a bit cheesy; but that doesn't really bother me, and William Russell always adds a touch of class. It was quite stilted as a monologue - doing it as an interview might have been better - but it got the job done, gave us a chance to actually see the older Ian in action (which is something Big Finish can't) and showed that he was doing alright for himself in later life. Which was nice.
NDR: And Tyron?
JGW: Oh, yes. Well, Ian mentioned a couple of previous adventures, neither from TV, which was a pleasant surprise. The one I didn't recognise was The Talking Stones of Tyron. A quick Internet search told me that this was an unwritten adventure, first mentioned in the novelisation of the Crusade. It was a fascinating title, and immediately conjured up for me the landscape covered with stones described in the flashback sequence of Barbara's second viewpoint section.
NDR: This is your first mixed-viewpoint story, isn't it?
JGW: Yes - at least, my first for Doctor Who. Actually, it works quite well, because I'm now very familiar with Ian's voice, reasonably so with Barbara's - and not at all with Vicki's. So it gave me a chance to practise hers without having to keep it up for the whole story.
NDR: Despite the changing viewpoints, you've made this very much Vicki's story.
JGW: It seemed to me that she's been a hanger-on since she joined, and I thought it would be nice to make her a bit more proactive before we got to The Space Museum. That way it's not so much of a jump when she takes charge there. I don't know if she does that more in The Crusade, because I don't remember it very well; but hopefully it won't clash.
NDR: So basically, you're trying to smooth out the development of a character? Thinking about the overall narrative of the show?
JGW: You make it sound like some grand design! That was just a hook I used to provide some character motivation - it was something I noticed as I was writing Vicki's thoughts, and ran with it. My only idea at the start was to write a story featuring the talking stones, because they sounded cool.
NDR: Let's talk about the stones.
JGW: Well, I suppose it is their Fiftieth anniversary.
NDR: Har Har. Your stones have already been praised as "clever and original", and "a unique alien threat".
JGW: Yes, I was chuffed to see such a positive comment before I'd even finished posting the whole story!
NDR: I'll ask the obvious question: where did you get the idea from?
JGW: Heh. Well, half of it came pretty much straight away. I had this sunflower seed pattern as an image in my mind - I put in the Fibonacci bit because this is set fairly early in the show's history, where a little scientific exposition is compulsory in an SF adventure - and I wondered if I could keep the stones as they were in my head, rather than make them move about like Ogri or something. Telepathy seemed an obvious get-out, but then I wondered if they could use people to speak through.
NDR: Like Stephen Hawking in reverse!
JGW: Well, yes. But I hadn't thought about them being anything to do with computers at that point.
NDR: So when did you come up with that?
JGW: Really late in the day. I'd already posted the whole of the first episode and written the first couple of sections of the second.
NDR: As late as that?
JGW: Yep.
NDR: Wow. So basically you wrote the first half of the story without knowing where it was going?
JGW: Not exactly. I knew where it was going; what I didn't know was why. What was the motivation of the stones? How did they arise? That was what was missing. But I knew what they were going to do - the scenes of the Doctor rejecting Vicki and Ian being captured were the first to form in my mind. I had one in mind for Barbara, too, but that changed completely before I got to it.
NDR: Isn't it important to know the 'why', though?
JGW: Sometimes. That's one of the challenges of doing these serialised fiction pieces in the blog: I always have to post a section before I'm really ready. But it's good, too, because it forces to me keep on writing come what may. My (unpublished) novel was written in a completely different way. The beginning came first, then the end, then key scenes in the middle; and lastly I connected up the dots, as it were.
NDR: Which do you prefer?
JGW: Tricky. I probably get a better result if I lay down the key scenes first, but writing in order is certainly quicker.
NDR: I thought the tension built well in the first episode.
JGW: Thank you. Sadly, the reading public didn't agree. I don't have access to viewing numbers on Gallifrey Base, but on elvwho every time I switch to fanfic I immediately lose two thirds of the readership, and that rapidly tailed off even more during Dialogue Disasters. Scene 3 has my lowest ever viewing figures - only one page view! In contrast, my review of The Escape - my most popular post, for some reason - has had 140 page views, and even the more recent Echoes of Future Past, sandwiched between the two episodes of this story, has got to 20.
NDR: You sound bitter.
JGW: No, I didn't mean to. It's just... well, let's say it's a good job I'm doing it for my own benefit, and not for acclaim. Though, having said that, I'd stop if I never got any positive feedback like bethhigdon's comment.
NDR: So, getting back to the story for a moment-
JGW: Sorry.
NDR: No, no, it's fine. I just wondered how you came to write such a different second episode?
JGW: It wasn't just the stones' motivation I lacked. I realised that I could see two possible ways for the story to go: either everyone got captured, in which case I couldn't see a way out; or they weren't, but then the stones were just stuck sitting there until Vicki thought of something. Neither provided much tension. I also spotted that it was hard to switch viewpoints when Vicki was the only one still free!
NDR: Is that when you decided to do some sections from the stones' points of view?
JGW: Exactly. And once I did I had to differentiate between the three of them to keep the dialogue interesting, so I came up with the idea of the stones thinking with their captives' minds.
NDR: Well, I certainly felt that made them more creepy.
JGW: So did my son! And it was while writing the first of these scenes that I came to a couple of conclusions. I decided that the focus of the episode had to shift from the conflict - because there was nowhere for that to go, really - to character, and that I should make it a character piece not just for Vicki, but also for the stones. Which meant that there had to be room for the reader to feel some sympathy for them, even while they were still a threat.
NDR: It's certainly a gradual reveal. I really disliked the stone-Doctor in his first scene.
JGW: Good! I tried to plant a few seeds, there, but still have him come across as a manipulative b-
NDR: Like the real Doctor, in a way.
JGW: But less cuddly.
NDR: Well, he is made of stone!
JGW: Anyway, while I was writing that scene I realised that I had these big lumps of silicon and a wireless means of communication, and it was like a computer network in a way; and the image of Tyron as a massively parallel computer with silicon and organic parts just seemed to fit. Everything just sort of fell into place then.
NDR: What about the epilogue? You seemed quite unsure about that.
JGW: Yes, and I still am! Obviously it's my first time writing for another Doctor, and it's a team not all the readers will have much experience with, being audio only.
NDR: I would have thought that anyone who is likely to read your story will know the seventh Doctor and Ace; it's just Hex who hasn't appeared on TV. Any particular reason for including him?
JGW: His reactions provide a great contrast to Ace's. I could just imagine him on that rooftop, trying to take it all in. I hope I didn't overdo the accent and verbal tics. But actually, that's not my biggest worry.
NDR: Which is...?
JGW: That the serial might work better without a happy ending, with the fate of the stones left hanging. It doesn't matter how well (or badly) that epilogue is written if it deflates the story. Even my wife - who did an English degree - couldn't tell me if it was a good idea or not.
NDR: I see. Thank you, you've given us some interesting insights into a fanfic author's mind. Is there anything else you want to add?
JGW: Can I just say that lunch here has been a bit of a disappointment? I had hoped I could imagine something as tasty as Big Finish's famed offerings, but it's all been a bit... bland.
NDR: We'll try and do better next time. John, thank you very much.
JGW: You're welcome.
Next Time:
What, you want an actual review? How about The Lion? Probably coming Friday...
Friday 14 December 2012
The Talking Stones of Tyron: Epilogue
Author's note: I was not sure whether to include
this epilogue or not, so I would welcome feedback. Does it enhance or
harm the experience of reading the story? Is your decision influenced by
how familiar you are with the featured TARDIS crew?
The young nurse stood on the rooftop, leaning on the rail and watching the figures below. "My God," he said, the shock clear in his voice, "just look at 'em all. It's unbelievable."
The woman next to him nodded. "Yeah. It is." Her voice was weary, but calm. There was horror underneath the supportive, sympathetic tone, but it was an old horror, dulled by repetition.
"They were, like, really nice to me, you know? When we first got here I thought they were just these big dumb animals, but then after we got separated they went out of their way to help me. I mean, there they were, just munching on the plants by the side of the walkways; how was I supposed to know they were intelligent? I thought it was like those cows in India - they roam all over, and nobody stops them, right? An' I was just standing there, wondering how I could find someone to speak to, when one of them asks me if I'm alright, in this big, booming voice. I nearly jumped out of me skin! He took me to this restaurant they keep just for aliens, and the chef - Mrr'ochah or something - made me this meal, an' he was so happy because he'd never had a chance to cook for a human before." He made a fist, banged it on the rail. "Now he really is just a mindless animal. Like everyone else. I mean, God, it's a whole species wiped out in a second."
"That's not quite true - they have colonies on several other planets. The psi bomb took out the higher brain functions of everyone on their homeworld, but it's left all the infrastructure intact. They won't have any trouble recolonising it."
"An' that's supposed to make me feel better, is it?"
"Come on, Hex, at least we made sure nobody else has to suffer the same fate!" Ace paused, took a breath. "Listen, mate, we'd better get back to the TARDIS. We need to be out of here before anyone else arrives; you know how much the Doctor hates answering questions."
"Oh yeah? Well, if we're in such a hurry where is he? An' what's he been up to all this time?"
"Making arrangements, Mister Hex." The nurse jumped as the Doctor's rolled 'r's sounded in his ear.
"An' what's that supposed to mean? Another one of your secret plans, too important to tell mere mortals, right?"
"Not at all. Several lifetimes ago I made a promise, one I never expected to keep. What happened here is a tragedy; but it finally gives me the opportunity to put that right. Although you may have to put aside some of your cultural prejudices regarding the treatment of the brain-dead."
Ace sighed again. "Alright, Doctor, out with it."
"Not here! I'll tell you once we are safely in the TARDIS."
The three of them walked back to the ship. In another galaxy, the stones of Tyron were waiting for a chance to speak again...
Next Time:
The author talks about The Talking Stones of Tyron. Ho hum.
Wednesday 12 December 2012
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 8
Vicki helped the Doctor get up, and supported him as they started out on
the long walk back to the ship. His legs were giving him trouble, and
it was a sign of how bad they were that he allowed her to help. As
circulation returned, however, he straightened up, swung his cane, and
without words made sure she knew he was back to his normal self.
They passed the point where Ian had lain; it was empty, just a patch of flattened grass. The Doctor wasn't in a talkative mood, so they walked on in silence. It gave Vicki the opportunity to appreciate the beauty of the world again, now that the threat was over; but even so, she wanted to get back to the TARDIS as soon as possible.
As the ship came into view, she could make out Ian and Barbara standing by the door. Of course - she had the spare key! The Doctor sped up, slightly, but it was still some time before they got back home.
Home. It was a relief to find that it was still true. She hadn't lost her new family. On one level, she had always known the truth, that it wasn't the Doctor driving her away; but there was that nagging doubt underneath, that feeling of insecurity which was always there. The realisation crossed her mind briefly, but she wasn't one for introspection; and as soon as they were near enough she called out to the others, then ran forward and wrapped her arms around Barbara. The Doctor, coming up behind, shook Ian's hand warmly.
"Doctor," said the the teacher, "it's good to see you back to your old self! I don't know what you did, but thank you anyway."
"Oh, it was nothing, dear boy. Besides, it's young Vicki who most deserves your gratitude - without her we would all be stuck to those stones still."
"Vicki?" The expression on Ian's face was priceless. Vicki, blushing from the Doctor's unexpected praise, still felt a momentary flash of annoyance that he should be so surprised. Well, this wouldn't be the last time - she was going to take the lead more often from now on, and he would just have to get used to it.
Barbara stepped back from the hug and looked down at the teenager. "I don't recall much after that thing started controlling me, but I can tell you it wasn't a pleasant experience. So, thank you very much." Ian echoed her appreciation.
"What do you remember?" asked Vicki.
"Only snatches after that odd conversation where you looked so worried," said Ian. "I couldn't understand why."
"And I remember trying to show you there was something wrong by keeping my teeth together," added Barbara.
"Well, it worked!" replied Vicki. "I wouldn't have been sure I was right without that."
The Doctor harrumphed. "That's all very interesting, I'm sure, but we can't stand about here all day." He unlocked the ship and disappeared inside; Ian laughed. "I did say he was back to his usual self, didn't I?" He ruffled Vicki's hair. "Come on."
They all followed the Doctor inside. He was fiddling with the controls on the central console, obviously eager to move on.
"Goodness," said Barbara, "look at the state of these clothes! I'm just covered in grass stains. Time for a wash and a change, I think."
"Me too," said Ian, ruefully. "You'd think we could at least go for a quiet swim without getting filthy, wouldn't you?" He looked at Vicki. "What about you?"
"Oh, I don't think I'm too bad - I'll change later." Besides, she thought, I want a word with the Doctor.
As soon as the others were out of the room, the Doctor slumped, leaning on the console. Vicki came up to him. "What really happened back there, with the other stones? I could only hear one part of the conversation."
The Doctor put his arm around her shoulders. "Sometimes, my dear, there are things we wish we could change, but cannot. This was one such. The Stones of Tyron are not evil, but still they could have brought about our deaths. They chose not to, at great sacrifice to themselves; and that is how we should remember them."
Vicki knew she would get no more from him, but she wasn't stupid; she could figure out what he meant. She didn't like to see him so sad, though, and decided that if he wouldn't draw a line under the affair, she would. She took one last look out of the doors and then threw the lever to close them. "Where to next, Doctor?"
"Hm? Oh, I don't know."
"Why don't we just take off and see where we end up?"
A slight smile crossed the Doctor's face, and he looked down at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Why not, indeed?" He straightened up and started operating the controls again.
As the central column began to rise and fall, Vicki couldn't resist one final dig. "Still, it was funny, hearing someone else sounding exactly like you."
He looked up at her, frowning. "Exactly like me, you say? Nonsense! A mere caricature at best. What has happened to your critical faculties, young lady?"
Vicki gave him a friendly hug, and headed back to her room, his complaints following her down the corridor.
Next Time:
An epilogue. I was going to post it along with this, but since I'm not sure if it's a good idea I'll leave it a couple of days so you can decide if it's better to stop here.
They passed the point where Ian had lain; it was empty, just a patch of flattened grass. The Doctor wasn't in a talkative mood, so they walked on in silence. It gave Vicki the opportunity to appreciate the beauty of the world again, now that the threat was over; but even so, she wanted to get back to the TARDIS as soon as possible.
As the ship came into view, she could make out Ian and Barbara standing by the door. Of course - she had the spare key! The Doctor sped up, slightly, but it was still some time before they got back home.
Home. It was a relief to find that it was still true. She hadn't lost her new family. On one level, she had always known the truth, that it wasn't the Doctor driving her away; but there was that nagging doubt underneath, that feeling of insecurity which was always there. The realisation crossed her mind briefly, but she wasn't one for introspection; and as soon as they were near enough she called out to the others, then ran forward and wrapped her arms around Barbara. The Doctor, coming up behind, shook Ian's hand warmly.
"Doctor," said the the teacher, "it's good to see you back to your old self! I don't know what you did, but thank you anyway."
"Oh, it was nothing, dear boy. Besides, it's young Vicki who most deserves your gratitude - without her we would all be stuck to those stones still."
"Vicki?" The expression on Ian's face was priceless. Vicki, blushing from the Doctor's unexpected praise, still felt a momentary flash of annoyance that he should be so surprised. Well, this wouldn't be the last time - she was going to take the lead more often from now on, and he would just have to get used to it.
Barbara stepped back from the hug and looked down at the teenager. "I don't recall much after that thing started controlling me, but I can tell you it wasn't a pleasant experience. So, thank you very much." Ian echoed her appreciation.
"What do you remember?" asked Vicki.
"Only snatches after that odd conversation where you looked so worried," said Ian. "I couldn't understand why."
"And I remember trying to show you there was something wrong by keeping my teeth together," added Barbara.
"Well, it worked!" replied Vicki. "I wouldn't have been sure I was right without that."
The Doctor harrumphed. "That's all very interesting, I'm sure, but we can't stand about here all day." He unlocked the ship and disappeared inside; Ian laughed. "I did say he was back to his usual self, didn't I?" He ruffled Vicki's hair. "Come on."
They all followed the Doctor inside. He was fiddling with the controls on the central console, obviously eager to move on.
"Goodness," said Barbara, "look at the state of these clothes! I'm just covered in grass stains. Time for a wash and a change, I think."
"Me too," said Ian, ruefully. "You'd think we could at least go for a quiet swim without getting filthy, wouldn't you?" He looked at Vicki. "What about you?"
"Oh, I don't think I'm too bad - I'll change later." Besides, she thought, I want a word with the Doctor.
As soon as the others were out of the room, the Doctor slumped, leaning on the console. Vicki came up to him. "What really happened back there, with the other stones? I could only hear one part of the conversation."
The Doctor put his arm around her shoulders. "Sometimes, my dear, there are things we wish we could change, but cannot. This was one such. The Stones of Tyron are not evil, but still they could have brought about our deaths. They chose not to, at great sacrifice to themselves; and that is how we should remember them."
Vicki knew she would get no more from him, but she wasn't stupid; she could figure out what he meant. She didn't like to see him so sad, though, and decided that if he wouldn't draw a line under the affair, she would. She took one last look out of the doors and then threw the lever to close them. "Where to next, Doctor?"
"Hm? Oh, I don't know."
"Why don't we just take off and see where we end up?"
A slight smile crossed the Doctor's face, and he looked down at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Why not, indeed?" He straightened up and started operating the controls again.
As the central column began to rise and fall, Vicki couldn't resist one final dig. "Still, it was funny, hearing someone else sounding exactly like you."
He looked up at her, frowning. "Exactly like me, you say? Nonsense! A mere caricature at best. What has happened to your critical faculties, young lady?"
Vicki gave him a friendly hug, and headed back to her room, his complaints following her down the corridor.
Next Time:
An epilogue. I was going to post it along with this, but since I'm not sure if it's a good idea I'll leave it a couple of days so you can decide if it's better to stop here.
Monday 10 December 2012
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 7
"Doctor? Doctor!" Barbara sighed. "It's no use, Ian, he won't resume contact."
Ian could tell she was worried from the tone of her voice; he wanted to put his arm around her shoulders, tell her everything would be OK. But he couldn't, and not just because they were so far apart. "It's been a while now. Do you think it was Vicki? Do you think she could have done something to him?"
"It, Ian. Why do you two keep referring to it as 'she'?"
"I... don't know. I was trying to explain to the Doctor earlier, I think there's something wrong with us. There's a, a fuzziness to the Mouth-minds that gets in the way. They are dealing with so much more than instinct and autonomic processes, even without us, that it becomes hard to direct them. It's as if we're trying to fit into a vessel of the wrong shape."
"Oh, rubbish!" There was laughter in her voice, a lightness that made him feel warm inside. "There's a simpler explanation: men just aren't as good at it as women."
"There! That was a Mouth-mind thought. You wait and see, Barbara. You've not been active as long as I have, but you'll find it happening more and more. These Mouths are no good for us."
Barbara was about to respond, when they heard the Doctor.
"Chesterton? Miss Wright? Can you hear me?"
"Coming through loud and clear," replied Ian, relieved. "Are you okay, Doctor? What happened with Vic... with the fourth one?"
"Oh, don't fuss so! It's all taken care of now. But there are some details that are still not quite clear, and my stone-memory seems incapable of supplying the details. Perhaps yours are more intact?"
"Go on."
"Well, hrm, I've had this feeling ever since I woke that there was something missing, but it's been frustratingly hard to pin down. When the fourth one came along, she reminded me of something. So I thought I'd ask the pair of you. We are dual beings, yes, part stone, part flesh?"
"Of course."
"But wasn't there something more? Some other vital aspect of our existence?"
Ian ransacked his own, partial stone-memory, but it was Barbara who answered first. "Do you mean the Overseers?"
The Overseers! That rang a bell...
"Thank you, Miss Wright. And what, pray tell, are the Overseers?"
"The ones who organise us, who manage the collective. They tell us what we are trying to achieve, as a group; so that each of us can contribute appropriately. You really don't remember?"
I had forgotten too, thought Ian. Though I can pick out fragments for myself, now that Barbara has given me the key information: I know that the Overseers gave us purpose. But in that case, what purpose do we serve now? He couldn't concentrate on the question, though, because the Doctor was chortling.
"Excellent, excellent! Vis, viscus, vilicus. Did you hear that, Vicki? No, of course you couldn't. But the point is, I was right!"
Barbara broke in, angrily. "You're not the Doctor!"
"Oh, but I am, my dear. Or perhaps I should say, we are. Both of us - Stone-Doctor and Mouth-Doctor - are sharing this mind at present. Pooling our resources, as it were. And now we understand.
"We understand what you are; what has happened - or part of it, at least; and why you cannot use humans as Mouths."
"No!" shouted Barbara. "You are a liar, who would say anything to save himself and his friends!"
"Perhaps I would, or at least the Mouth part of me would; but in this case there is no necessity for subterfuge. Indeed, if you will listen, I will explain-"
"No, no!" said Barbara again; she was in tears. Ian felt a stabbing pain as he realised she must have figured out whatever it was that the Doctor had discovered; and it was devastating for her. He didn't understand it yet, though, and he needed to.
"I'm listening, Doctor," he said, quietly, dreading the answer.
"Very good, my boy." The Doctor sounded sad; or perhaps Ian was projecting his expectations. "The Stones of Tyron are psychically-endowed silicon storage systems with no thinking or communication ability of their own; and this is where the Mouths come in. They are - or rather, were - specially-bred beasts with a limited intellectual capacity, each able to perform the calculations required of them and to speak with others, when directed by the psychic field of a stone."
There was silence for a few seconds, then, "that's right, Vicki," he continued; "the whole surface of the planet is one gigantic silicon/organic computer network."
Ian's head reeled; and in the silence that followed the Doctor's dramatic announcement, he could hear Barbara sobbing quietly. What did it mean? He didn't know a lot about computers, but the idea of being merely a component within one...!
"Doctor, that's -" he couldn't think of the word. "Never mind. You said you'd explain why our new Mouths aren't suitable?"
"Indeed. I, ah, thank you for your patience. Each Stone/Mouth pair was intended only for relatively limited processing, the power of the system coming from the number of nodes rather than any individual ability. That's why you - we - only needed lower minds to think with. But something happened to those beasts, oh, probably thousands of years ago to judge by the condition of the stones. A plague might have done it; I doubt we shall ever know for sure. They vanished, and as they did so the network shut down. It was pure chance that brought Vicki and her friends to Tyron, and it was only natural that your psychic fields locked onto them as replacement Mouths.
"Unfortunately they aren't Mouths. They are the equivalent of what Barbara has called Overseers. The operators of the Tyron computer, who are also vanished for reasons unknown. As such, they have a mental capability that your stones were never designed to handle. They have individuality, self-awareness; and you have borrowed all that from them."
"But it can't last. Is that what you are saying, Doctor?"
"I'm very much afraid that it is. Neither side can manage this state for long, and it needs to end."
"I see." Ian felt numb. What the Doctor was saying made sense; but it wasn't the kind of sense he had wanted to hear.
Barbara spoke up, at last. "'I see?' Is that all you have to say? Don't you understand what he's asking, Ian? He wants us to give up our identities. To die."
"Not want, my dear. No, never that. But it will happen anyway, sooner or later. Your Mouths cannot live like this, and either they will break free or they will perish. In either event, you shall no longer exist."
Ian could barely believe it, but on one level he had always known it to be true. This had never felt right, somehow. "Ah well," he said, with mock cheerfulness, "I knew it was too good to last."
"Believe me, young man, I am sorry. And if, in some future time, I find a way to restore life to the talking stones of Tyron, I will surely do so."
"But that won't bring us back, will it?"
"I... do not see how it could. Not with the, ah, as the individuals you are now. But maybe there would be a way to give you more than your original level of identity? I do not know, but then who can tell what time may bring?"
"Well, thank you for your honesty. And your promise." Mentally, he turned. "Barbara, The Doctor's right: there's no way this can work out for us. And, if it has to end - well, I think I'd prefer for it to end quickly, rather than dragging things out. What do you say?"
"Yes, I thought you might suggest that. Ian Chesterton, noble to the end." She was silent for a while; Ian wasn't sure whether to say anything or not. He was thinking about Antodus, hanging from a rope in a chasm on Skaro, who had willingly taken his own life so that Ian wouldn't have to die with him. In a way this was no different, except that this life wasn't really his in the first place. And it would go on, though without him - without the Stone-mind that currently directed his thoughts. He had to say something.
"Barbara-"
"Oh, please don't start. I know you, Ian! How could I not? We've been travelling together for such a long time. But it's not fair, you know. I've been alive for less than an hour, while you've had three times as long to feel what it's like. Don't ask me to give it up so soon."
She didn't sound like Barbara, he realised; not his Barbara. She lacked her strength, her poise. A shadow, just as he had been, an hour after he woke. But it was coming; the merger was progressing. Soon, she would be as his Mouth-mind remembered.
"We can wait," he said, not knowing if it were true or not.
"Thank you, Ian." She sighed. "Do you know something strange? I hadn't realised it myself, but that's all I really wanted. Compassion, rather than nobility. Now you've said it, I think I can... move on. Someday, if the Doctor is as clever as he thinks, I will have a new identity. And maybe, if that time is not too far in the future, my Stone-mind will have some memory of this life. So let's get it over with." She laughed, though without humour. "Right. Ready?"
No! "Yes. On the count of three, then? One, two, three." Barbara joined in the count from 'two', speaking quietly. As he severed his link with the Mouth - with Ian - he blurted out one final message. "Barbara? I love you."
The reply came back, faintly, but his hearing and consciousness were fading fast. "I know. And I love y-"
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 8, and an (optional) epilogue.
Ian could tell she was worried from the tone of her voice; he wanted to put his arm around her shoulders, tell her everything would be OK. But he couldn't, and not just because they were so far apart. "It's been a while now. Do you think it was Vicki? Do you think she could have done something to him?"
"It, Ian. Why do you two keep referring to it as 'she'?"
"I... don't know. I was trying to explain to the Doctor earlier, I think there's something wrong with us. There's a, a fuzziness to the Mouth-minds that gets in the way. They are dealing with so much more than instinct and autonomic processes, even without us, that it becomes hard to direct them. It's as if we're trying to fit into a vessel of the wrong shape."
"Oh, rubbish!" There was laughter in her voice, a lightness that made him feel warm inside. "There's a simpler explanation: men just aren't as good at it as women."
"There! That was a Mouth-mind thought. You wait and see, Barbara. You've not been active as long as I have, but you'll find it happening more and more. These Mouths are no good for us."
Barbara was about to respond, when they heard the Doctor.
"Chesterton? Miss Wright? Can you hear me?"
"Coming through loud and clear," replied Ian, relieved. "Are you okay, Doctor? What happened with Vic... with the fourth one?"
"Oh, don't fuss so! It's all taken care of now. But there are some details that are still not quite clear, and my stone-memory seems incapable of supplying the details. Perhaps yours are more intact?"
"Go on."
"Well, hrm, I've had this feeling ever since I woke that there was something missing, but it's been frustratingly hard to pin down. When the fourth one came along, she reminded me of something. So I thought I'd ask the pair of you. We are dual beings, yes, part stone, part flesh?"
"Of course."
"But wasn't there something more? Some other vital aspect of our existence?"
Ian ransacked his own, partial stone-memory, but it was Barbara who answered first. "Do you mean the Overseers?"
The Overseers! That rang a bell...
"Thank you, Miss Wright. And what, pray tell, are the Overseers?"
"The ones who organise us, who manage the collective. They tell us what we are trying to achieve, as a group; so that each of us can contribute appropriately. You really don't remember?"
I had forgotten too, thought Ian. Though I can pick out fragments for myself, now that Barbara has given me the key information: I know that the Overseers gave us purpose. But in that case, what purpose do we serve now? He couldn't concentrate on the question, though, because the Doctor was chortling.
"Excellent, excellent! Vis, viscus, vilicus. Did you hear that, Vicki? No, of course you couldn't. But the point is, I was right!"
Barbara broke in, angrily. "You're not the Doctor!"
"Oh, but I am, my dear. Or perhaps I should say, we are. Both of us - Stone-Doctor and Mouth-Doctor - are sharing this mind at present. Pooling our resources, as it were. And now we understand.
"We understand what you are; what has happened - or part of it, at least; and why you cannot use humans as Mouths."
"No!" shouted Barbara. "You are a liar, who would say anything to save himself and his friends!"
"Perhaps I would, or at least the Mouth part of me would; but in this case there is no necessity for subterfuge. Indeed, if you will listen, I will explain-"
"No, no!" said Barbara again; she was in tears. Ian felt a stabbing pain as he realised she must have figured out whatever it was that the Doctor had discovered; and it was devastating for her. He didn't understand it yet, though, and he needed to.
"I'm listening, Doctor," he said, quietly, dreading the answer.
"Very good, my boy." The Doctor sounded sad; or perhaps Ian was projecting his expectations. "The Stones of Tyron are psychically-endowed silicon storage systems with no thinking or communication ability of their own; and this is where the Mouths come in. They are - or rather, were - specially-bred beasts with a limited intellectual capacity, each able to perform the calculations required of them and to speak with others, when directed by the psychic field of a stone."
There was silence for a few seconds, then, "that's right, Vicki," he continued; "the whole surface of the planet is one gigantic silicon/organic computer network."
Ian's head reeled; and in the silence that followed the Doctor's dramatic announcement, he could hear Barbara sobbing quietly. What did it mean? He didn't know a lot about computers, but the idea of being merely a component within one...!
"Doctor, that's -" he couldn't think of the word. "Never mind. You said you'd explain why our new Mouths aren't suitable?"
"Indeed. I, ah, thank you for your patience. Each Stone/Mouth pair was intended only for relatively limited processing, the power of the system coming from the number of nodes rather than any individual ability. That's why you - we - only needed lower minds to think with. But something happened to those beasts, oh, probably thousands of years ago to judge by the condition of the stones. A plague might have done it; I doubt we shall ever know for sure. They vanished, and as they did so the network shut down. It was pure chance that brought Vicki and her friends to Tyron, and it was only natural that your psychic fields locked onto them as replacement Mouths.
"Unfortunately they aren't Mouths. They are the equivalent of what Barbara has called Overseers. The operators of the Tyron computer, who are also vanished for reasons unknown. As such, they have a mental capability that your stones were never designed to handle. They have individuality, self-awareness; and you have borrowed all that from them."
"But it can't last. Is that what you are saying, Doctor?"
"I'm very much afraid that it is. Neither side can manage this state for long, and it needs to end."
"I see." Ian felt numb. What the Doctor was saying made sense; but it wasn't the kind of sense he had wanted to hear.
Barbara spoke up, at last. "'I see?' Is that all you have to say? Don't you understand what he's asking, Ian? He wants us to give up our identities. To die."
"Not want, my dear. No, never that. But it will happen anyway, sooner or later. Your Mouths cannot live like this, and either they will break free or they will perish. In either event, you shall no longer exist."
Ian could barely believe it, but on one level he had always known it to be true. This had never felt right, somehow. "Ah well," he said, with mock cheerfulness, "I knew it was too good to last."
"Believe me, young man, I am sorry. And if, in some future time, I find a way to restore life to the talking stones of Tyron, I will surely do so."
"But that won't bring us back, will it?"
"I... do not see how it could. Not with the, ah, as the individuals you are now. But maybe there would be a way to give you more than your original level of identity? I do not know, but then who can tell what time may bring?"
"Well, thank you for your honesty. And your promise." Mentally, he turned. "Barbara, The Doctor's right: there's no way this can work out for us. And, if it has to end - well, I think I'd prefer for it to end quickly, rather than dragging things out. What do you say?"
"Yes, I thought you might suggest that. Ian Chesterton, noble to the end." She was silent for a while; Ian wasn't sure whether to say anything or not. He was thinking about Antodus, hanging from a rope in a chasm on Skaro, who had willingly taken his own life so that Ian wouldn't have to die with him. In a way this was no different, except that this life wasn't really his in the first place. And it would go on, though without him - without the Stone-mind that currently directed his thoughts. He had to say something.
"Barbara-"
"Oh, please don't start. I know you, Ian! How could I not? We've been travelling together for such a long time. But it's not fair, you know. I've been alive for less than an hour, while you've had three times as long to feel what it's like. Don't ask me to give it up so soon."
She didn't sound like Barbara, he realised; not his Barbara. She lacked her strength, her poise. A shadow, just as he had been, an hour after he woke. But it was coming; the merger was progressing. Soon, she would be as his Mouth-mind remembered.
"We can wait," he said, not knowing if it were true or not.
"Thank you, Ian." She sighed. "Do you know something strange? I hadn't realised it myself, but that's all I really wanted. Compassion, rather than nobility. Now you've said it, I think I can... move on. Someday, if the Doctor is as clever as he thinks, I will have a new identity. And maybe, if that time is not too far in the future, my Stone-mind will have some memory of this life. So let's get it over with." She laughed, though without humour. "Right. Ready?"
No! "Yes. On the count of three, then? One, two, three." Barbara joined in the count from 'two', speaking quietly. As he severed his link with the Mouth - with Ian - he blurted out one final message. "Barbara? I love you."
The reply came back, faintly, but his hearing and consciousness were fading fast. "I know. And I love y-"
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 8, and an (optional) epilogue.
Friday 7 December 2012
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 6
The Doctor watched the fourth one approaching. It was remarkable how far
he could see now - the old Mouths had had more all-round vision, but
they were so very limited when it came to focusing on things in front of
them, or at any real distance. And most of the time they were content
just to eat grass, whereas these had more complex needs. And more
complex minds, of course. The more he exercised the brain, the more he
realised that he had never thought like this before. It wasn't just the
chemicals, or the level of cognition; it was... hm, what was it? The
individuality. Yes, that was the word. He was an individual, with a
name, and his own opinions. Fascinating.
He wasn't concerned about Vicki any more; after all, what could it do to get in their way? Nothing. She was just a girl, one that needed guidance and protection. And Miss Wright was simply too much of a worrier. Chesterton too, though in a different way. Yes, things were going to be fine.
Still, he probably ought to let the others know. "Vicki's coming this way. I think she wants to talk to me."
"What? We thought it was coming to me! So that's why it's been such a long time!"
"Calm down, Chesterton. It doesn't matter. Anyway, all I want you two to do is stay quiet, so I can concentrate. Do you think you can manage that, hm?"
Silence was his answer; and then young Vicki was there, striding across the bank, full of determination. Poor creature, she still looked as waiflike as she did when they had rescued her, even though so much time had passed, travelling in the TARDIS, seeing so many places...
The Doctor felt a wave of confusion. His memories were getting entangled with those of his Mouth again, rising to the surface unbidden. How could anyone think with a mind like this? It was exhausting, mad, chaotic - exhilarating. He felt as if he had never lived before! He wanted to-
"Doctor?" The voice brought him back to the present.
"Vicki, my dear! I do so apologise for my outburst. I don't know what came over me. Here, come sit by me."
"No. I know it isn't you, and I'm not going to be caught like Ian and Barbara! Tell me what you've done to them!"
The Doctor was hurt. "Me? I have done nothing to them. Why would I? Oh, I talk with them, sometimes, and with their primitive minds perhaps I influence them, yes, even lead them; but I would never do anything to harm them!"
Vicki wasn't convinced. "Oh, and I suppose you've done nothing to the Doctor, either?"
"My dear child, I am the Doctor. And I assure you, I have no intention of harming myself!" Automatically he reached for his lapels, before realising the position of his Mouth. Its hands paused, awkwardly, then fell back to its sides.
"You don't fool me for one minute. You can pretend, but-" A sudden realisation showed on Vicki's face. "You actually believe it, don't you? You really believe you are the Doctor!"
"Of course! Why shouldn't I? It's a fact. My vis directs the mind, my will controls the flesh body. It is different from previous Mouths, of course, but I daresay I will work out the details in time; and I wouldn't dream of putting it into danger by allowing it to fly willy-nilly across the universe."
"So - the part of you that is Ian, and the part of you that is Barbara, believes the same?"
"There is no 'part'. We are individuals." A look of delight passed across his face. "Yes, individuals. with our own, distinct identities and personalities. Isn't it marvellous?" He started to chuckle.
Vicki didn't seem amused, but then she was still thinking, still trying to get her simple, human mind to comprehend the situation. "So, how many of you are there?"
"Three." The Doctor chuckled again, watching her reaction. "Well, there are three of us who are active, alive. In truth, I do not know how many of us there are waiting in potentia, so to speak; lacking a Mouth to talk through, a brain to think with." For some reason an image of his Mouth's homeworld flitted across his consciousness; he ignored it. "I remember stepping out of the TARDIS. The forests have intruded quite some way into our lands, and the trees will have damaged or destroyed many of our units. At a guess I would say, oh, a billion remaining, two or three at most."
Vicki took a sharp breath; she seemed shocked. "You don't use the stones to catch people, you are the stones!"
"Well, you are half right. There are two aspects to me, the stone and the flesh. One is no more important than the other. Without flesh, there is no thought, no communication; without stone, there is no direction."
"That's not true! We have direction!"
"Indeed? Is that why you wander through time and space at random?"
"That's different." Vicki paused, looking thoughtful again. "Why are you telling me this? Aren't you afraid I'll use the information to free my friends?"
Because I am too alone, thought the Doctor. Because the company of Ian and Barbara isn't enough. Because there is something missing from my life, and I don't know what it is; and because I remember you helped fill a void once before. "I am not afraid," he said, "because there is nothing you can do. And I tell you because it does no harm, and it passes the time."
The child nodded. "I see. Well, no hard feelings, then?" She held out her hand; without thinking, the Doctor raised his Mouth's own arm to shake it.
As soon as she had a firm grip Vicki pulled, putting all her weight into the struggle. She brought her other hand round to help, but it made no difference; the Doctor's Mouth was attached to the ground as if glued there. Eventually the child fell back, giving up the fight.
"You see," said the Doctor, "It makes no difference. You cannot change things."
Strangely, Vicki was smiling. "Oh, you think so, do you?" She held up her hand; something glinted loosely on one finger.
"My ring! You stole my ring!"
There was anger in Vicki's reply. "It's not yours! It's the Doctor's!"
"But... that is... me?"
What was happening? The ring was fascinating, pulsating with prismatic energy; but as he watched it, the Doctor felt the psychic link between vis and viscus failing. About time too! he thought. No! I shall look away! You will, will you? I doubt you have the capacity, that is to say, the capability, to do something of that kind. But I don't want to go! Ah, isn't that strange? It never bothered me before. Why should I fear oblivion? But I do, I do; and so it is you who shall be separated from this flesh! Down, Mouth-mind, get back down!
As the Doctor struggled Vicki watched, moving the ring rhythmically as she had seen him do in the past, on Vortis. She looked so pale and fragile; such a small thing on which to hang the future of a world. So different from the stone, and yet, not so different from what he was missing.
One of the Doctors let go.
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 7
He wasn't concerned about Vicki any more; after all, what could it do to get in their way? Nothing. She was just a girl, one that needed guidance and protection. And Miss Wright was simply too much of a worrier. Chesterton too, though in a different way. Yes, things were going to be fine.
Still, he probably ought to let the others know. "Vicki's coming this way. I think she wants to talk to me."
"What? We thought it was coming to me! So that's why it's been such a long time!"
"Calm down, Chesterton. It doesn't matter. Anyway, all I want you two to do is stay quiet, so I can concentrate. Do you think you can manage that, hm?"
Silence was his answer; and then young Vicki was there, striding across the bank, full of determination. Poor creature, she still looked as waiflike as she did when they had rescued her, even though so much time had passed, travelling in the TARDIS, seeing so many places...
The Doctor felt a wave of confusion. His memories were getting entangled with those of his Mouth again, rising to the surface unbidden. How could anyone think with a mind like this? It was exhausting, mad, chaotic - exhilarating. He felt as if he had never lived before! He wanted to-
"Doctor?" The voice brought him back to the present.
"Vicki, my dear! I do so apologise for my outburst. I don't know what came over me. Here, come sit by me."
"No. I know it isn't you, and I'm not going to be caught like Ian and Barbara! Tell me what you've done to them!"
The Doctor was hurt. "Me? I have done nothing to them. Why would I? Oh, I talk with them, sometimes, and with their primitive minds perhaps I influence them, yes, even lead them; but I would never do anything to harm them!"
Vicki wasn't convinced. "Oh, and I suppose you've done nothing to the Doctor, either?"
"My dear child, I am the Doctor. And I assure you, I have no intention of harming myself!" Automatically he reached for his lapels, before realising the position of his Mouth. Its hands paused, awkwardly, then fell back to its sides.
"You don't fool me for one minute. You can pretend, but-" A sudden realisation showed on Vicki's face. "You actually believe it, don't you? You really believe you are the Doctor!"
"Of course! Why shouldn't I? It's a fact. My vis directs the mind, my will controls the flesh body. It is different from previous Mouths, of course, but I daresay I will work out the details in time; and I wouldn't dream of putting it into danger by allowing it to fly willy-nilly across the universe."
"So - the part of you that is Ian, and the part of you that is Barbara, believes the same?"
"There is no 'part'. We are individuals." A look of delight passed across his face. "Yes, individuals. with our own, distinct identities and personalities. Isn't it marvellous?" He started to chuckle.
Vicki didn't seem amused, but then she was still thinking, still trying to get her simple, human mind to comprehend the situation. "So, how many of you are there?"
"Three." The Doctor chuckled again, watching her reaction. "Well, there are three of us who are active, alive. In truth, I do not know how many of us there are waiting in potentia, so to speak; lacking a Mouth to talk through, a brain to think with." For some reason an image of his Mouth's homeworld flitted across his consciousness; he ignored it. "I remember stepping out of the TARDIS. The forests have intruded quite some way into our lands, and the trees will have damaged or destroyed many of our units. At a guess I would say, oh, a billion remaining, two or three at most."
Vicki took a sharp breath; she seemed shocked. "You don't use the stones to catch people, you are the stones!"
"Well, you are half right. There are two aspects to me, the stone and the flesh. One is no more important than the other. Without flesh, there is no thought, no communication; without stone, there is no direction."
"That's not true! We have direction!"
"Indeed? Is that why you wander through time and space at random?"
"That's different." Vicki paused, looking thoughtful again. "Why are you telling me this? Aren't you afraid I'll use the information to free my friends?"
Because I am too alone, thought the Doctor. Because the company of Ian and Barbara isn't enough. Because there is something missing from my life, and I don't know what it is; and because I remember you helped fill a void once before. "I am not afraid," he said, "because there is nothing you can do. And I tell you because it does no harm, and it passes the time."
The child nodded. "I see. Well, no hard feelings, then?" She held out her hand; without thinking, the Doctor raised his Mouth's own arm to shake it.
As soon as she had a firm grip Vicki pulled, putting all her weight into the struggle. She brought her other hand round to help, but it made no difference; the Doctor's Mouth was attached to the ground as if glued there. Eventually the child fell back, giving up the fight.
"You see," said the Doctor, "It makes no difference. You cannot change things."
Strangely, Vicki was smiling. "Oh, you think so, do you?" She held up her hand; something glinted loosely on one finger.
"My ring! You stole my ring!"
There was anger in Vicki's reply. "It's not yours! It's the Doctor's!"
"But... that is... me?"
What was happening? The ring was fascinating, pulsating with prismatic energy; but as he watched it, the Doctor felt the psychic link between vis and viscus failing. About time too! he thought. No! I shall look away! You will, will you? I doubt you have the capacity, that is to say, the capability, to do something of that kind. But I don't want to go! Ah, isn't that strange? It never bothered me before. Why should I fear oblivion? But I do, I do; and so it is you who shall be separated from this flesh! Down, Mouth-mind, get back down!
As the Doctor struggled Vicki watched, moving the ring rhythmically as she had seen him do in the past, on Vortis. She looked so pale and fragile; such a small thing on which to hang the future of a world. So different from the stone, and yet, not so different from what he was missing.
One of the Doctors let go.
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 7
Wednesday 5 December 2012
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 5
Vicki ran, roughly in the direction of Ian but veering slightly so that
Barbara wouldn't be able to see her. She had to find out more, and the
best way to manage that was to do a bit of spying. Which also meant
keeping away from the stones: if they were the tools through which the
creature exerted its influence, she didn't want to get caught too. There
was no way of telling for sure how far away you had to stay in order to
be safe. If it was more than six yards - half the distance between
stones - then she'd had it. But it seemed likely the range was quite
short; the Doctor and Ian had both been touching a stone when they'd
been captured.
Oh, wait - had they? Had the creature put the thought in their minds? She remembered when Ian had nearly walked into one of the stones, shortly before he was taken over. But just before that she and Barbara had sat behind one when they got changed, huddled up close to make the best use of the limited cover. Why hadn't it grabbed them then?
Too many questions, too little information. She had to hope for a bit of luck, and find out more.
Vicki circled around, coming up behind Ian's stone, hoping that wouldn't allow the creature to detect her. To her relief, she heard Ian talking.
"But how, Doctor? At the moment it's just the three of us. What can we do on our own?" He paused, as if listening, then continued. "Frankly, I don't think that's likely to be any help. We're stymied." Another pause. "Well, I suppose that's true." Pause. "Barbara, you might have got it! Yes, that might do the trick! I just hope it gives us enough time."
Vicki was bemused. It was as if she were a little girl again, out of bed when she should have been asleep and listening to her father in his office during a televid conference, but without the muffled voices of the other participants. Could there be more than one creature, talking to each other? But why did it sound like Ian, and why did he call the others by their proper names? The only things she could work out were that Ian was well, at least physically, and that she had to do something quickly. But what?
She listened for a while longer, but nothing Ian said cast any further light on their situation. Her leg was starting to cramp and she was afraid that she might make a noise if she moved to a different position, so she crept away while she could still do so quietly.
Reminded of her father, she recalled a time when she had been stuck on a piece of schoolwork, a research project that seemed to have hit a plasticrete wall. He had taken her gently by the shoulders, sat her down; and what he said had stayed with her ever since. "Sometimes, when you can't see a way forward, it's best to stop trying. Go for a walk, listen to some music, watch a holoshow. Your mind can often do a better job when you're not pushing it so hard."
That seemed good advice now. Well, music and shows were out, but she could certainly go for a walk!
Vicki ambled up the valley. It wasn't perfect - the stones kept bringing her mind back to the problem, and it was hard to put aside the idea that she had to do something quickly - but it did help a little. To take her mind off the distractions she tried focusing on the distant landscape: rolling hills tinged greenish-blue by the grass or greenish-yellow by the trees, streams of whitish water. No mountains. Geologically an old landscape, everything worn down and softened by time. Tyron was certainly not like Vortis, with its jagged edges and craters.
Vortis had to be the key. That was the only place she had really run into a problem like this, and she was right there at the heart of it. Of course, the Doctor had been there too, leading the way; she had only supported him. And in the end it had been Barbara who had done what was needed.
And that was it, the nub of her problem. She supported, she helped: the Doctor on Vortis, Ian on Platform Five, Barbara - sort of - in Guangzhou. She wasn't the one who figured out the solutions, or the one who really made them happen. Well, that needed to change, and fast. Time to be more proactive, to - to take responsibility.
She suddenly noticed where her wandering feet had carried her: the stream flowing out from the lake that she had been swimming in less than two hours earlier. She could see the corner of the bank where, presumably, the Doctor still lay, just beyond the next rise. Her instincts were obviously telling her to run to him, to seek his guidance and protection, just as she had in the Carsinome. But that wasn't possible now, and anyway it didn't fit with the new Vicki - or did it? The Doctor always drew others into his schemes, used them to make the whole thing work, and she suspected that he didn't always have the details worked out in advance. She might be figuring it out as she went along, but she wouldn't try to do everything herself; and who better than the Doctor for her to try and rescue first, so he could join her in liberating the others?
Very well, then; he was her first target. And talking of the Carsinome, she had a wild idea which might just work...
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 6
Oh, wait - had they? Had the creature put the thought in their minds? She remembered when Ian had nearly walked into one of the stones, shortly before he was taken over. But just before that she and Barbara had sat behind one when they got changed, huddled up close to make the best use of the limited cover. Why hadn't it grabbed them then?
Too many questions, too little information. She had to hope for a bit of luck, and find out more.
Vicki circled around, coming up behind Ian's stone, hoping that wouldn't allow the creature to detect her. To her relief, she heard Ian talking.
"But how, Doctor? At the moment it's just the three of us. What can we do on our own?" He paused, as if listening, then continued. "Frankly, I don't think that's likely to be any help. We're stymied." Another pause. "Well, I suppose that's true." Pause. "Barbara, you might have got it! Yes, that might do the trick! I just hope it gives us enough time."
Vicki was bemused. It was as if she were a little girl again, out of bed when she should have been asleep and listening to her father in his office during a televid conference, but without the muffled voices of the other participants. Could there be more than one creature, talking to each other? But why did it sound like Ian, and why did he call the others by their proper names? The only things she could work out were that Ian was well, at least physically, and that she had to do something quickly. But what?
She listened for a while longer, but nothing Ian said cast any further light on their situation. Her leg was starting to cramp and she was afraid that she might make a noise if she moved to a different position, so she crept away while she could still do so quietly.
Reminded of her father, she recalled a time when she had been stuck on a piece of schoolwork, a research project that seemed to have hit a plasticrete wall. He had taken her gently by the shoulders, sat her down; and what he said had stayed with her ever since. "Sometimes, when you can't see a way forward, it's best to stop trying. Go for a walk, listen to some music, watch a holoshow. Your mind can often do a better job when you're not pushing it so hard."
That seemed good advice now. Well, music and shows were out, but she could certainly go for a walk!
Vicki ambled up the valley. It wasn't perfect - the stones kept bringing her mind back to the problem, and it was hard to put aside the idea that she had to do something quickly - but it did help a little. To take her mind off the distractions she tried focusing on the distant landscape: rolling hills tinged greenish-blue by the grass or greenish-yellow by the trees, streams of whitish water. No mountains. Geologically an old landscape, everything worn down and softened by time. Tyron was certainly not like Vortis, with its jagged edges and craters.
Vortis had to be the key. That was the only place she had really run into a problem like this, and she was right there at the heart of it. Of course, the Doctor had been there too, leading the way; she had only supported him. And in the end it had been Barbara who had done what was needed.
And that was it, the nub of her problem. She supported, she helped: the Doctor on Vortis, Ian on Platform Five, Barbara - sort of - in Guangzhou. She wasn't the one who figured out the solutions, or the one who really made them happen. Well, that needed to change, and fast. Time to be more proactive, to - to take responsibility.
She suddenly noticed where her wandering feet had carried her: the stream flowing out from the lake that she had been swimming in less than two hours earlier. She could see the corner of the bank where, presumably, the Doctor still lay, just beyond the next rise. Her instincts were obviously telling her to run to him, to seek his guidance and protection, just as she had in the Carsinome. But that wasn't possible now, and anyway it didn't fit with the new Vicki - or did it? The Doctor always drew others into his schemes, used them to make the whole thing work, and she suspected that he didn't always have the details worked out in advance. She might be figuring it out as she went along, but she wouldn't try to do everything herself; and who better than the Doctor for her to try and rescue first, so he could join her in liberating the others?
Very well, then; he was her first target. And talking of the Carsinome, she had a wild idea which might just work...
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 6
Monday 3 December 2012
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 4
The Doctor was worried. It was a new feeling; he was still getting used
to thinking with the mind of his new Mouth, and this creature wasn't
like the old ones. Everything was imprecise, battered by chemical
impulses and random electrical surges. It allowed room for a different
kind of creativity to the dull, predictable Mouths of old; but it also
meant that thought was frustratingly meandering.
He had no idea how long it had been since he last had a Mouth - there was no awareness until one came into range, after all - but for some reason his stone-memory had eroded to the point that he was almost starting anew. And there were so few others to talk with! Just Ian, and Barbara beginning to wake up. Surely there should be a buzz of conversation? It was becoming apparent that the world had changed. He could think such complex ideas now, with a level of self-awareness he had never before experienced; but there was no real opportunity to discuss the possibilities, to test theories, probe weaknesses, hammer out details. What was the point of all this creativity if it couldn't be shared? Where were the Mouths for his brethren- and sistren-in-waiting?
His musings were interrupted by Ian. Odd that he felt irritated, as if it really was an interruption; for surely the purpose of existence was to converse? What was the point of solitary musing?
"Doctor! Didn't you hear me? I think Barbara's in trouble."
"And what do you expect me to do, dear boy? Run over there and give her a leg up?"
There was a pause. "I... don't know. I thought that maybe, since you've had a Mouth for longer than the rest of us, you could give her some advice? I'm having a bit of difficulty as well, to tell you the truth."
"What sort of difficulty?"
"Well..."
At that point, Barbara cut in. "Thad's bedder. Dradded creadure!"
"Do enunciate more clearly, my dear, it's hard to understand you."
"I'm drying, bud id's viding me!"
The Doctor sighed. These humans were so limited in their capabilities! No, wait, that wasn't his thought; it must be a Mouth memory. Interesting. He filed it away for future consideration.
Now, where was he?
"Doctor-" It was Ian this time. How could he think with all these distractions? It was intolerable!
"Oh, do go away, there's a good fellow."
Again the pause. "Doctor, I think it's not just Barbara and I. Something's wrong with all of us."
"What are you talking about?" Even as his impatience spilt out into his speech, the Doctor felt a thrill. Something to debate!
"Ian's ride, Dogdor. Oh, vor goodnezz zake, Mouth! Why won'd you go-operade? Bud thad's pard of wad I mean. Mouths don'd agd like thiz."
Ian took up the argument again. "Exactly. Mouths are, well, Mouths. They come when called, for one thing. And there are more of them. If a Mouth has some physical need it may wander off, but another will be along soon."
Yes, thought the Doctor. I had forgotten. That was how it was. "So where are they now, hm? And why do these new Mouths struggle so?"
"I think I can answer that." It was Barbara's voice, but something was... off.
"Barbara? Is that you?"
"No! Well, I suppose it was in a way. That was my Mouth."
"Your... Mouth?" The Doctor chuckled. "Wonderful! Quite wonderful!" This was most stimulating. A Mouth with an opinion? "Do let it go on, my dear."
Barbara cleared her throat. "Well, my name's Barbara. But you already know that. I am a human, from the planet Earth in the Twentieth Century. So is Ian, though the Doctor and Vicki are from different times. We are all travellers, and only arrived on your world by chance. I'm sorry if we trespassed, but we are not your Mouths, and if you try to hold onto us we will die. So I am asking you to let us go. Please?"
"An eloquent plea, my dear." He paused. "Barbara? Excuse me, I mean our Barbara. Did you get a better chance to study its vocal mechanisms?"
"Yes, Doctor." This time it was the expected voice. "I am in full control now."
"Excellent, excellent. So, what do you think our course of action should be?"
"Well, if these are the only available Mouths we need to make the most of them, even though they fit so poorly. But that means they will need to be released occasionally to refuel."
"Ian?"
"I agree with Barbara, but we will have to be careful how we go about it. I certainly wouldn't want two of them at large at the same time."
"Very well, I concur." There was something nagging at the back of the Doctor's mind, something else missing. He tried to track it, but the nature of the new Mouth's brain meant it kept eluding him. And the others were waiting. Perhaps it would come to him later. "In the longer term we need to figure out how to make more Mouths, but our immediate concern is the fourth one. We need to capture Vicki."
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 5
He had no idea how long it had been since he last had a Mouth - there was no awareness until one came into range, after all - but for some reason his stone-memory had eroded to the point that he was almost starting anew. And there were so few others to talk with! Just Ian, and Barbara beginning to wake up. Surely there should be a buzz of conversation? It was becoming apparent that the world had changed. He could think such complex ideas now, with a level of self-awareness he had never before experienced; but there was no real opportunity to discuss the possibilities, to test theories, probe weaknesses, hammer out details. What was the point of all this creativity if it couldn't be shared? Where were the Mouths for his brethren- and sistren-in-waiting?
His musings were interrupted by Ian. Odd that he felt irritated, as if it really was an interruption; for surely the purpose of existence was to converse? What was the point of solitary musing?
"Doctor! Didn't you hear me? I think Barbara's in trouble."
"And what do you expect me to do, dear boy? Run over there and give her a leg up?"
There was a pause. "I... don't know. I thought that maybe, since you've had a Mouth for longer than the rest of us, you could give her some advice? I'm having a bit of difficulty as well, to tell you the truth."
"What sort of difficulty?"
"Well..."
At that point, Barbara cut in. "Thad's bedder. Dradded creadure!"
"Do enunciate more clearly, my dear, it's hard to understand you."
"I'm drying, bud id's viding me!"
The Doctor sighed. These humans were so limited in their capabilities! No, wait, that wasn't his thought; it must be a Mouth memory. Interesting. He filed it away for future consideration.
Now, where was he?
"Doctor-" It was Ian this time. How could he think with all these distractions? It was intolerable!
"Oh, do go away, there's a good fellow."
Again the pause. "Doctor, I think it's not just Barbara and I. Something's wrong with all of us."
"What are you talking about?" Even as his impatience spilt out into his speech, the Doctor felt a thrill. Something to debate!
"Ian's ride, Dogdor. Oh, vor goodnezz zake, Mouth! Why won'd you go-operade? Bud thad's pard of wad I mean. Mouths don'd agd like thiz."
Ian took up the argument again. "Exactly. Mouths are, well, Mouths. They come when called, for one thing. And there are more of them. If a Mouth has some physical need it may wander off, but another will be along soon."
Yes, thought the Doctor. I had forgotten. That was how it was. "So where are they now, hm? And why do these new Mouths struggle so?"
"I think I can answer that." It was Barbara's voice, but something was... off.
"Barbara? Is that you?"
"No! Well, I suppose it was in a way. That was my Mouth."
"Your... Mouth?" The Doctor chuckled. "Wonderful! Quite wonderful!" This was most stimulating. A Mouth with an opinion? "Do let it go on, my dear."
Barbara cleared her throat. "Well, my name's Barbara. But you already know that. I am a human, from the planet Earth in the Twentieth Century. So is Ian, though the Doctor and Vicki are from different times. We are all travellers, and only arrived on your world by chance. I'm sorry if we trespassed, but we are not your Mouths, and if you try to hold onto us we will die. So I am asking you to let us go. Please?"
"An eloquent plea, my dear." He paused. "Barbara? Excuse me, I mean our Barbara. Did you get a better chance to study its vocal mechanisms?"
"Yes, Doctor." This time it was the expected voice. "I am in full control now."
"Excellent, excellent. So, what do you think our course of action should be?"
"Well, if these are the only available Mouths we need to make the most of them, even though they fit so poorly. But that means they will need to be released occasionally to refuel."
"Ian?"
"I agree with Barbara, but we will have to be careful how we go about it. I certainly wouldn't want two of them at large at the same time."
"Very well, I concur." There was something nagging at the back of the Doctor's mind, something else missing. He tried to track it, but the nature of the new Mouth's brain meant it kept eluding him. And the others were waiting. Perhaps it would come to him later. "In the longer term we need to figure out how to make more Mouths, but our immediate concern is the fourth one. We need to capture Vicki."
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 5
Friday 30 November 2012
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 3
As she left the TARDIS with the synthesiser, Vicki's mind was whirring.
Without Barbara fuelling the sense of urgency she had calmed down a
little, feeling under less pressure; and she wanted to know why. After
all, Ian was still in deadly peril, wasn't he?
She was surprised to find that she really couldn't believe it. She had been forcing herself to keep rushing, following Barbara's direction, while her subconscious rebelled. Okay; she would still move quickly in case her subconscious was wrong, but she would also get back to thinking about what was making her feel otherwise.
First thought: Ian didn't look sick. He'd said he was sick, and he couldn't get up; but there could be other reasons for that. Like mind control. She'd experienced that all too recently, with the Animus on Vortis. Just the memory of that horrible, horrible entity controlling her body like a puppet made her shudder.
Let's go with that thought for a while. Perhaps whatever creature lives on this planet - Tyron, the Doctor had called it - works differently. Perhaps it can control speech more easily than movement? So it could stop Ian from running away by paralysing his legs, but not make him walk? And it could have affected the Doctor too!
Now, that was worrying. She didn't want Ian to be dying, and she didn't want the Doctor to have been responsible for what he said. So, this might be just a wish fulfilment theory, something she'd made up so that she could believe everything was fundamentally fine. After all, an alien menace was something they could fight! Not like... well, not like death. And betrayal.
Of course. It all came back to Dido, didn't it? And before. She had lost one entire family, all her friends; why wouldn't she be desperate about the possibility of losing what she had in the TARDIS? That didn't mean her feeling was wrong, but she couldn't trust it. Vicki picked up the pace.
Strange; she had expected to see Barbara before now. Could she have made it all the way back to Ian already? It didn't seem very likely. "Barbara?" she called. "Are you there?"
After a few seconds, she heard an answering cry, not far distant. A minute or so later she found the teacher lying in the shade of a stone.
Hmm, she thought, lying in the shade of a stone. Like the others. And all at once my theory seems a lot less paranoid. Still, maybe it would be possible to test it out.
"Barbara, what are you doing? There's no time to waste!"
"I'm sorry, Vicki; I'm just so tired. I don't know what's wrong with me."
Okay, here goes. "Like that time when we were on our way to Rome, and you just had to stop for a rest?"
Barbara just looked at her with a puzzled expression. Drat! thought Vicki. I was hoping she'd say 'yes', and I'd have known she was lying, since she didn't come to Rome with me.
Still, there was something odd in her not saying anything. Vicki looked more closely; there was a tension around Barbara's mouth, as if she were forcing herself to keep it shut. "Is something the matter?"
"Nnnnng."
That settled it - there was definitely some sort of battle going on inside Barbara's head. Did it mean the theory was right about Ian, too? There was no way Vicki could get the bio-analyser to him on her own anyway; all she could do was hope she'd figured it out properly.
Trying to make the controlling monster believe she was fooled was probably a lost cause, now, but there was also no harm in trying. "I'd better go and see if there's anything I can do for Ian," she said. She picked up the medical kit - it supported her story, and might come in handy - and ran off towards him.
Now all she had to do was think of a way to get them all out of this mess...
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 4
She was surprised to find that she really couldn't believe it. She had been forcing herself to keep rushing, following Barbara's direction, while her subconscious rebelled. Okay; she would still move quickly in case her subconscious was wrong, but she would also get back to thinking about what was making her feel otherwise.
First thought: Ian didn't look sick. He'd said he was sick, and he couldn't get up; but there could be other reasons for that. Like mind control. She'd experienced that all too recently, with the Animus on Vortis. Just the memory of that horrible, horrible entity controlling her body like a puppet made her shudder.
Let's go with that thought for a while. Perhaps whatever creature lives on this planet - Tyron, the Doctor had called it - works differently. Perhaps it can control speech more easily than movement? So it could stop Ian from running away by paralysing his legs, but not make him walk? And it could have affected the Doctor too!
Now, that was worrying. She didn't want Ian to be dying, and she didn't want the Doctor to have been responsible for what he said. So, this might be just a wish fulfilment theory, something she'd made up so that she could believe everything was fundamentally fine. After all, an alien menace was something they could fight! Not like... well, not like death. And betrayal.
Of course. It all came back to Dido, didn't it? And before. She had lost one entire family, all her friends; why wouldn't she be desperate about the possibility of losing what she had in the TARDIS? That didn't mean her feeling was wrong, but she couldn't trust it. Vicki picked up the pace.
Strange; she had expected to see Barbara before now. Could she have made it all the way back to Ian already? It didn't seem very likely. "Barbara?" she called. "Are you there?"
After a few seconds, she heard an answering cry, not far distant. A minute or so later she found the teacher lying in the shade of a stone.
Hmm, she thought, lying in the shade of a stone. Like the others. And all at once my theory seems a lot less paranoid. Still, maybe it would be possible to test it out.
"Barbara, what are you doing? There's no time to waste!"
"I'm sorry, Vicki; I'm just so tired. I don't know what's wrong with me."
Okay, here goes. "Like that time when we were on our way to Rome, and you just had to stop for a rest?"
Barbara just looked at her with a puzzled expression. Drat! thought Vicki. I was hoping she'd say 'yes', and I'd have known she was lying, since she didn't come to Rome with me.
Still, there was something odd in her not saying anything. Vicki looked more closely; there was a tension around Barbara's mouth, as if she were forcing herself to keep it shut. "Is something the matter?"
"Nnnnng."
That settled it - there was definitely some sort of battle going on inside Barbara's head. Did it mean the theory was right about Ian, too? There was no way Vicki could get the bio-analyser to him on her own anyway; all she could do was hope she'd figured it out properly.
Trying to make the controlling monster believe she was fooled was probably a lost cause, now, but there was also no harm in trying. "I'd better go and see if there's anything I can do for Ian," she said. She picked up the medical kit - it supported her story, and might come in handy - and ran off towards him.
Now all she had to do was think of a way to get them all out of this mess...
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 4
Wednesday 28 November 2012
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 2
Barbara couldn't help getting irritated at the way Vicki kept on about
her pet theory. She had to admit there were strange things going on, and
maybe there was some kind of malign psychic influence at work,
affecting the Doctor's judgement and making Ian step in poisoned leaves
or something. It wouldn't be the first time! But their focus had to be
on saving Ian. Still, she was sorry she snapped at the girl.
When they got back to the TARDIS, Barbara headed straight for the place she had last seen the bio-analyser. She felt a chill as she saw the empty space on the shelf.
"Vicki, it's not here! The bio-analyser's missing!"
"Hm? Oh, the Doctor's been using it in an experiment. He was showing me some of the results yesterday; I know where it is." She trotted off down the corridor.
Barbara felt a twinge of jealousy. Oh, the girl was young, inexperienced - naïve, even - but she knew so much more about future technology. Not as much as the Doctor, of course, but then who did? She had struck up a rapport with the old man almost instantly; his betrayal by the lake had obviously hit her hard. Barbara needed to be a little more understanding. It wouldn't help Ian to hurt the girl further.
While Vicki was gone she busied herself collecting a few medical supplies, just in case - and especially gloves, since it would do no good for them to get poisoned while treating Ian. She was triple-checking the kit when she heard Vicki call.
"Ooh, give me a hand with this, Barbara, it's heavy!" she saw the girl staggering along with the analyser. It was portable but bulky, and Vicki was barely coping on her own. Barbara rushed to help, and together they manhandled it out of the TARDIS. Barbara took most of the weight as they set off back to Ian; she was frustrated at how slow they were. Would he still be alive when they got there? Please let it be so!
After about ten minutes Vicki suddenly stopped. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed.
"Vicki, what's wrong?"
"We forgot the synthesiser unit! Without it we can diagnose the problem, but we can't produce an antitoxin!" She looked into Barbara's eyes. "Can you manage it on your own? Just for a bit?"
Barbara smiled, encouragingly. "Don't worry about me. I'll cope." Inside, her heart sank at the prospect of trying to carry the analyser through the long grass without help, but if she had to do it then she would.
"Right. I'll fetch the unit and catch you up." Vicki hurried back towards the ship. Barbara picked up the analyser again, and set off as fast as she dared in the opposite direction.
It wasn't long before her back and arms were aching. She had to pause frequently, and each time she looked behind her, with hope; but there was no sign of Vicki. After about a quarter of an hour Barbara simply had to take a proper break. There was a stone nearby, so she carefully put down the analyser and leaned on it, working out the kinks. Something was niggling at the back of her mind; but she was so tired, too tired to focus. Then, as she sank down, she realised what it was: both the Doctor and Ian, when she had last seen them, had been lying against one of the stones. As she was now. She started, but couldn't make herself get up; so she tried to call to Vicki, but what she said wasn't what she'd meant.
"That's three." It was hurried, urgent, oddly pronounced; and she realised it had the same intonation as if she had actually called Vicki's name, as she had intended. It sounded like...
It sounded like Ian. Ian, when he had been lying there, slumped against the stone, speaking so strangely. Barbara cursed herself for not listening, for being so wound up in her worries that she pushed Vicki's conjectures away. Then she felt a ray of hope: did this mean that Ian wasn't poisoned? She couldn't be sure. I've got to get myself moving, she decided; and she must have to tried to vocalise the thought, because something similar came out of her mouth. "I've got to get this Mouth working," she said.
To Barbara's amazement she suddenly heard the voice of the Doctor. "No, no, my dear Barbara, that's not the way to do it. You have to relax, settle into its psyche, lead it gently until it says what you want. Don't bludgeon its own words into the shape you desire! That's almost fleshlike in it's crudity!"
"Huh. Easy for you to say, Doctor." Barbara's heart skipped; that was Ian! He was still alive! "Your Mouth sat down within your influence quite willingly, and you had the best part of an hour to take control before you had to interact with its fellows at all. Barbara and I had to extend ourselves just to catch ours, and I immediately had to come up with something to send the others away. I doubt you could have done more than 'crude bludgeoning' in the circumstances, and I even managed to fiddle with the Mouth-mind's perceptions to make it act more normally. Which is pretty impressive in my book. Still, he's right about one thing, Barbara."
"What's that?" Barbara hadn't meant to say it, but it had slipped out. Her relief that Ian wasn't going to die had distracted her from the invader in her mind.
"You'll need something better to deal with the last one. It's already suspicious, and-"
"Barbara? Are you there?" That was Vicki's voice, from somewhere nearby.
"What am I going to do?" said both versions of Barbara. The other voices were gone. "Don't worry," they muttered, "I'll think of something."
Together, they called out to Vicki.
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 3
When they got back to the TARDIS, Barbara headed straight for the place she had last seen the bio-analyser. She felt a chill as she saw the empty space on the shelf.
"Vicki, it's not here! The bio-analyser's missing!"
"Hm? Oh, the Doctor's been using it in an experiment. He was showing me some of the results yesterday; I know where it is." She trotted off down the corridor.
Barbara felt a twinge of jealousy. Oh, the girl was young, inexperienced - naïve, even - but she knew so much more about future technology. Not as much as the Doctor, of course, but then who did? She had struck up a rapport with the old man almost instantly; his betrayal by the lake had obviously hit her hard. Barbara needed to be a little more understanding. It wouldn't help Ian to hurt the girl further.
While Vicki was gone she busied herself collecting a few medical supplies, just in case - and especially gloves, since it would do no good for them to get poisoned while treating Ian. She was triple-checking the kit when she heard Vicki call.
"Ooh, give me a hand with this, Barbara, it's heavy!" she saw the girl staggering along with the analyser. It was portable but bulky, and Vicki was barely coping on her own. Barbara rushed to help, and together they manhandled it out of the TARDIS. Barbara took most of the weight as they set off back to Ian; she was frustrated at how slow they were. Would he still be alive when they got there? Please let it be so!
After about ten minutes Vicki suddenly stopped. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed.
"Vicki, what's wrong?"
"We forgot the synthesiser unit! Without it we can diagnose the problem, but we can't produce an antitoxin!" She looked into Barbara's eyes. "Can you manage it on your own? Just for a bit?"
Barbara smiled, encouragingly. "Don't worry about me. I'll cope." Inside, her heart sank at the prospect of trying to carry the analyser through the long grass without help, but if she had to do it then she would.
"Right. I'll fetch the unit and catch you up." Vicki hurried back towards the ship. Barbara picked up the analyser again, and set off as fast as she dared in the opposite direction.
It wasn't long before her back and arms were aching. She had to pause frequently, and each time she looked behind her, with hope; but there was no sign of Vicki. After about a quarter of an hour Barbara simply had to take a proper break. There was a stone nearby, so she carefully put down the analyser and leaned on it, working out the kinks. Something was niggling at the back of her mind; but she was so tired, too tired to focus. Then, as she sank down, she realised what it was: both the Doctor and Ian, when she had last seen them, had been lying against one of the stones. As she was now. She started, but couldn't make herself get up; so she tried to call to Vicki, but what she said wasn't what she'd meant.
"That's three." It was hurried, urgent, oddly pronounced; and she realised it had the same intonation as if she had actually called Vicki's name, as she had intended. It sounded like...
It sounded like Ian. Ian, when he had been lying there, slumped against the stone, speaking so strangely. Barbara cursed herself for not listening, for being so wound up in her worries that she pushed Vicki's conjectures away. Then she felt a ray of hope: did this mean that Ian wasn't poisoned? She couldn't be sure. I've got to get myself moving, she decided; and she must have to tried to vocalise the thought, because something similar came out of her mouth. "I've got to get this Mouth working," she said.
To Barbara's amazement she suddenly heard the voice of the Doctor. "No, no, my dear Barbara, that's not the way to do it. You have to relax, settle into its psyche, lead it gently until it says what you want. Don't bludgeon its own words into the shape you desire! That's almost fleshlike in it's crudity!"
"Huh. Easy for you to say, Doctor." Barbara's heart skipped; that was Ian! He was still alive! "Your Mouth sat down within your influence quite willingly, and you had the best part of an hour to take control before you had to interact with its fellows at all. Barbara and I had to extend ourselves just to catch ours, and I immediately had to come up with something to send the others away. I doubt you could have done more than 'crude bludgeoning' in the circumstances, and I even managed to fiddle with the Mouth-mind's perceptions to make it act more normally. Which is pretty impressive in my book. Still, he's right about one thing, Barbara."
"What's that?" Barbara hadn't meant to say it, but it had slipped out. Her relief that Ian wasn't going to die had distracted her from the invader in her mind.
"You'll need something better to deal with the last one. It's already suspicious, and-"
"Barbara? Are you there?" That was Vicki's voice, from somewhere nearby.
"What am I going to do?" said both versions of Barbara. The other voices were gone. "Don't worry," they muttered, "I'll think of something."
Together, they called out to Vicki.
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 3
Monday 26 November 2012
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 1 (reprise)
Now that she wasn't being cut to pieces, the feeling of the grass
against Vicki's legs was a welcome distraction; she found she was
calming down, a little. Neither she nor Barbara said much as they walked
along. Ian still seemed to be in a bit of a bad mood, and was hanging
back. It was odd; she could understand his anger at the Doctor - it
echoed her own grief - but now he seemed to be avoiding her and Barbara
as well.
Then she heard him call. "Hang on, you two! Something's gone into my foot." Turning, Vicki saw him propping himself up against one of the standing stones, desperately trying to get his shoe off. She glanced at Barbara, who was looking concerned; and they both hurried back. Even before they got there he had slumped down, and was sitting with his back to the stone, holding his foot. "That's torn it," he said. "Quite a bit of poison's got in there."
Barbara moved forward, and Vicki hung back - her friend had the right to be first by his side. But Ian stopped her when she went to take a look at his foot.
"Stay clear, Barbara - it's no good, I'm not worth bothering with. Unless you're able to analyse the poison. And it could be spread by contact, so might get you."
"No!" cried Barbara. Even from behind Vicki could see the tenseness of her shoulders, the way she strained to go to him even though what he said made sense. "There must be something we can do?"
There was an odd look on Ian's face, not at all what Vicki would have expected in these circumstances. "Sorry, Barbara, you've got to reach the TARDIS for the bio-analyser, right now."
Of course! thought Vicki. Not only could that identify the poison, it should be able to synthesise an antidote - if they could get it here in time. Ian was trying to get up, but couldn't manage it. "'kay, it's happening. I can't move my legs." His words were starting to slur.
Barbara nodded. "Right, I'm going. Do you want Vicki to stay with you?"
"I don't need her here! Just get on your way, Barbara, for Heaven's sake! Get me help!"
"Alright then. We'll be back as soon as we can." Barbara leaned forward and lowered her voice, though Vicki could still make out the words as she attempted to bully Ian into staying alive until they returned. It was good psychology; she hoped it would be enough.
Something was niggling, though, as they ran for the ship, Ian's cries echoing in their ears. The phrases he had used were awkward, and gave her the same sense of wrongness she'd got when listening to the Doctor's ranting. Well, not quite the same - the Doctor's speech patterns had been closer to normal - but neither of them had sounded right. She mentioned it to Barbara.
"Well, of course Ian didn't sound the same! He's been poisoned!"
And that was that. Vicki could see there was no sense in pursuing the subject right now, but she thought about it as they ran. It was more than just the voices, she realised; Ian's expression didn't look as if it was being warped by delirium, but more as if he were experiencing events... differently.
She was still trying to figure it out when they got back to the TARDIS.
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 2
Then she heard him call. "Hang on, you two! Something's gone into my foot." Turning, Vicki saw him propping himself up against one of the standing stones, desperately trying to get his shoe off. She glanced at Barbara, who was looking concerned; and they both hurried back. Even before they got there he had slumped down, and was sitting with his back to the stone, holding his foot. "That's torn it," he said. "Quite a bit of poison's got in there."
Barbara moved forward, and Vicki hung back - her friend had the right to be first by his side. But Ian stopped her when she went to take a look at his foot.
"Stay clear, Barbara - it's no good, I'm not worth bothering with. Unless you're able to analyse the poison. And it could be spread by contact, so might get you."
"No!" cried Barbara. Even from behind Vicki could see the tenseness of her shoulders, the way she strained to go to him even though what he said made sense. "There must be something we can do?"
There was an odd look on Ian's face, not at all what Vicki would have expected in these circumstances. "Sorry, Barbara, you've got to reach the TARDIS for the bio-analyser, right now."
Of course! thought Vicki. Not only could that identify the poison, it should be able to synthesise an antidote - if they could get it here in time. Ian was trying to get up, but couldn't manage it. "'kay, it's happening. I can't move my legs." His words were starting to slur.
Barbara nodded. "Right, I'm going. Do you want Vicki to stay with you?"
"I don't need her here! Just get on your way, Barbara, for Heaven's sake! Get me help!"
"Alright then. We'll be back as soon as we can." Barbara leaned forward and lowered her voice, though Vicki could still make out the words as she attempted to bully Ian into staying alive until they returned. It was good psychology; she hoped it would be enough.
Something was niggling, though, as they ran for the ship, Ian's cries echoing in their ears. The phrases he had used were awkward, and gave her the same sense of wrongness she'd got when listening to the Doctor's ranting. Well, not quite the same - the Doctor's speech patterns had been closer to normal - but neither of them had sounded right. She mentioned it to Barbara.
"Well, of course Ian didn't sound the same! He's been poisoned!"
And that was that. Vicki could see there was no sense in pursuing the subject right now, but she thought about it as they ran. It was more than just the voices, she realised; Ian's expression didn't look as if it was being warped by delirium, but more as if he were experiencing events... differently.
She was still trying to figure it out when they got back to the TARDIS.
Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 2
Friday 23 November 2012
DWM 181, Brief Encounter: Echoes of Future Past, by John Summerfield
I commented last time on the shortness of Urrozdinee; this one is half as long. But then, being a Brief Encounter, it's a different beast. Like The Wright Way to Start the Day?
it's a vignette rather than an adventure, and that means there's more
room to breathe in this two-page story than there was in Mark Gatiss'
four-pager. On the other hand, for the first time in these reviews, we
have two different incarnations of the Doctor meeting.
Breaking the First Law of Time
In production terms, there was a time when the Doctor would only meet his past and future selves on important anniversaries. That changed with The Two Doctors, and while multi-Doctor stories remained unusual - even after the end of the TV series in 1989 and the explosion of stories in other media - it seemed as if there no longer needed to be an excuse to bring them together.
This is a particularly significant pairing: the early first Doctor and the last, the seventh, both known for being mysterious and manipulative. Their eras bookend the series, and are explicitly linked by Remembrance of the Daleks. The illustrations support this, with a black-and-white first Doctor and a colour seventh on opposite sides of the text. I've not been very complimentary about Paul Vyse's artwork in the past but this time he does a great job, particularly with Sylvester McCoy's Doctor, who looks suitably intense.
One of the problems I had with the continuity of Remembrance was that it implied the first Doctor knew of the Daleks and prepared in advance to deal with them. This quite neatly resolves that particular issue. Having said that, it would make sense for this to happen to the seventh before his televised return to Totter's Lane; but he is wearing his brown jacket from later series 26, and there is talk of him "preparing for the end". The latter can be justified following the events of The Fires of Vulcan, Red, and Dragonfire, as he prepares to take on a more proactive role; the former - while of no consequence for an ordinary person - jars more. Still, this is the best place for him. We are kept at a distance, but his reaction on hearing Susan's name mentioned is touching.
Still, this is a first Doctor marathon, so what of him? The setting is I.M. Foreman's yard in the winter of 1962-3, before the events of Time and Relative; and this story has an affinity with that one, although it doesn't quite match up. The Doctor can't really remember who he is or where he came from, but this is not a punishment for exiles by the Time Lords; rather, it is a result of trying to operate a TARDIS belonging to someone else. Still, perhaps Susan was confused in the novella about the cause of the block on her memories. Again, it can be reconciled. It is harder to make it fit with prior travels, but that is true of Kim Newman's explanation too; in both cases we can say it took a while to catch up with them.
Hardest of all to figure out is another passage:
So, I've said a lot about continuity, but what about the writing? This is actually rather good. It partly avoids the need to characterise the first Doctor recognisably since he is in the grip of the mind problems caused by the TARDIS, and is the more fearful version from the start of the show anyway; and the seventh is shown from a distance. Despite the continuity issues above, I like it.
Windows on the Past
In the children's bedroom sits a whole pile of DWM issues I have not yet read. While I was casting about for something to review here, I realised that - thanks to my birthday present - I don't have to save up the pocket money to pay for them!
This issue is from 1991, and it's a fascinating glimpse into the past. The first thing to note is how different the balance of content is from a modern issue: in 52 pages (including covers) there are two prose stories, three comic strips of a page or more, and three shorter cartoons (my favourite being 'Auton at C&A'). There are similarities too, of course: we have a poster, news, letters, interviews and an 'archive section' covering a story in detail (in this case, Spearhead from Space).
The news and letters give a great impression of the different mood of fandom at the time. There is a definite sense of doom and gloom, with lots of complaints about how the BBC had treated the show and a report on an attempt to sue the corporation over it! There was some optimism, too: Timewyrm: Revelation was showing promise for the nascent Virgin New Adventures line, it looked like a TV Movie could possibly be out in time for the 30th Anniversary, and narration had been recorded for the soundtracks of three missing stories - including Tomb of the Cybermen! I felt a twinge of sadness reading the reports of conventions with Jon Pertwee being particularly prominent; but overall the present is a much better time to be a fan of Doctor Who.
Published:
Date: 25th December 1991
Rating:
6/10.
Next Time:
The beginning of the second episode, The Talking Stones of Tyron; and as usual it will open with a reprise - of sorts...
Breaking the First Law of Time
In production terms, there was a time when the Doctor would only meet his past and future selves on important anniversaries. That changed with The Two Doctors, and while multi-Doctor stories remained unusual - even after the end of the TV series in 1989 and the explosion of stories in other media - it seemed as if there no longer needed to be an excuse to bring them together.
This is a particularly significant pairing: the early first Doctor and the last, the seventh, both known for being mysterious and manipulative. Their eras bookend the series, and are explicitly linked by Remembrance of the Daleks. The illustrations support this, with a black-and-white first Doctor and a colour seventh on opposite sides of the text. I've not been very complimentary about Paul Vyse's artwork in the past but this time he does a great job, particularly with Sylvester McCoy's Doctor, who looks suitably intense.
One of the problems I had with the continuity of Remembrance was that it implied the first Doctor knew of the Daleks and prepared in advance to deal with them. This quite neatly resolves that particular issue. Having said that, it would make sense for this to happen to the seventh before his televised return to Totter's Lane; but he is wearing his brown jacket from later series 26, and there is talk of him "preparing for the end". The latter can be justified following the events of The Fires of Vulcan, Red, and Dragonfire, as he prepares to take on a more proactive role; the former - while of no consequence for an ordinary person - jars more. Still, this is the best place for him. We are kept at a distance, but his reaction on hearing Susan's name mentioned is touching.
Still, this is a first Doctor marathon, so what of him? The setting is I.M. Foreman's yard in the winter of 1962-3, before the events of Time and Relative; and this story has an affinity with that one, although it doesn't quite match up. The Doctor can't really remember who he is or where he came from, but this is not a punishment for exiles by the Time Lords; rather, it is a result of trying to operate a TARDIS belonging to someone else. Still, perhaps Susan was confused in the novella about the cause of the block on her memories. Again, it can be reconciled. It is harder to make it fit with prior travels, but that is true of Kim Newman's explanation too; in both cases we can say it took a while to catch up with them.
Hardest of all to figure out is another passage:
Strange, though, how he had suddenly developed such an emotional bond with [Susan]. Natural enough, he supposed, after so many years of solitary wandering.I'm sorry, but what? OK, so there's no real reason why this couldn't be so, but it's a fairly extreme case of the 'TV plus this story' canon syndrome I mentioned last time. (I should note that the story goes on to emphasise that she is nevertheless his actual grand-daughter, so it is not a Terrance Dicks-style reinterpretation of their original relationship; but it still seems a bizarre couple of sentences.) I prefer to ignore this.
So, I've said a lot about continuity, but what about the writing? This is actually rather good. It partly avoids the need to characterise the first Doctor recognisably since he is in the grip of the mind problems caused by the TARDIS, and is the more fearful version from the start of the show anyway; and the seventh is shown from a distance. Despite the continuity issues above, I like it.
Windows on the Past
In the children's bedroom sits a whole pile of DWM issues I have not yet read. While I was casting about for something to review here, I realised that - thanks to my birthday present - I don't have to save up the pocket money to pay for them!
This issue is from 1991, and it's a fascinating glimpse into the past. The first thing to note is how different the balance of content is from a modern issue: in 52 pages (including covers) there are two prose stories, three comic strips of a page or more, and three shorter cartoons (my favourite being 'Auton at C&A'). There are similarities too, of course: we have a poster, news, letters, interviews and an 'archive section' covering a story in detail (in this case, Spearhead from Space).
The news and letters give a great impression of the different mood of fandom at the time. There is a definite sense of doom and gloom, with lots of complaints about how the BBC had treated the show and a report on an attempt to sue the corporation over it! There was some optimism, too: Timewyrm: Revelation was showing promise for the nascent Virgin New Adventures line, it looked like a TV Movie could possibly be out in time for the 30th Anniversary, and narration had been recorded for the soundtracks of three missing stories - including Tomb of the Cybermen! I felt a twinge of sadness reading the reports of conventions with Jon Pertwee being particularly prominent; but overall the present is a much better time to be a fan of Doctor Who.
Published:
Date: 25th December 1991
Rating:
6/10.
Next Time:
The beginning of the second episode, The Talking Stones of Tyron; and as usual it will open with a reprise - of sorts...
Wednesday 21 November 2012
Doctor Who Yearbook 1995: Urrozdinee, by Mark Gatiss
This four-page story is, I believe, Mark Gatiss' only published work for
the first Doctor. The TARDIS Index File isn't very helpful in checking
this since the page on Gatiss only lists his longer works plus televised spoofs, forcing me to rely on my spreadsheet (which gathers information from various sources, but is far from complete).
There are full-colour illustrations on every page; Alistair Hughes provides all of them except for the first, which is a photo taken during the filming of Marco Polo. Unfortunately they are mostly lifeless, and do little to add to the story (although having said that, they are still quite a bit better than the artwork accompanying Who Discovered America? and Rennigan's Record, reviewed earlier). The exception is the picture of the Eminence trying on his gown, which I thought was well done. I note that this is the only image not to feature Susan and the Doctor; so it may be that Hughes' efforts to capture their features (which he does successfully) cramped his style.
The illustrations mean that the story is only around 2,500 words (based on a quick line count). By way of comparison, Dialogue Disasters is about 3,900, and only half a story; so Gatiss hasn't much room for manoeuvre here. His prose is appropriately spare, and he manages to conjure up a society with baroque politics and bizarre architecture very quickly. He gets in a reminder that the TARDIS at this point can change it's form, and his penchant for grim humour comes through, too. I love the fact that they have a Minister of Poverty, a Minister of Disease, and a Minister of Death; and the climax of Urrozdinee's tale is also blackly comic.
Not that this is a dark story. On the contrary, it's a tourist's eye view of a moment in the future politics of Earth, and as such quite light and inconsequential. I have marked it down for that, I think, which is a little unfair; but it's the way my mind works. Similarly, I had unfortunately been spoiled and knew about the reveal at the end, so I've no idea if I would have worked it out. This is a shame, and again costs the story points through no fault of its own.
What of the Doctor and Susan, then? They are well characterised; but before I say much more, a brief aside.
Doctor Who: The Early Adventures, part 1
As I mentioned in my review of Frayed, several people have argued - eloquently - that the Doctor shouldn't have had adventures before An Unearthly Child. I'm in two minds. Certainly he shouldn't be "Doctorish", to coin a phrase, since the arc of the first thirteen episodes is, basically, him becoming the Doctor; but on the other hand, as we learn later, part of his motivation for going into exile is that he wants to see the universe properly, to interact with it. So that's what he should be doing - but cautiously, like a tourist rather than an adventurer.
Most of what happens with the time travellers here fits that. I particularly like the Wizard of Oz moment when they go up to a great door and a hatch opens, someone pokes their head out and tells them to go away. There is another point when they have to get away and the Doctor does something a bit "adventurish"; but as soon as their escape is complete he comments that "that's quite enough adventure for a while", so Gatiss can be let off the hook for that!
Unfortunately, we immediately hit the old problem of an author writing for a canon consisting of the TV stories plus this one. The Doctor continues, adding that it's time to put down some roots, and comments that he has a place in mind if the Ship can make it. There are rather too many stories where he makes this decision - Quinnis and Bide-a-Wee, to name a couple of others - and the obvious intention is that he is thinking of 1960s London. However, this needn't be the case. Perhaps he wants to make roots in the Fourth Universe? Or perhaps it's just a case of it taking a few tries to get there? Whatever, it can be made to work. And that's good enough.
Published:
Date: September 1994
ISBN: 1-85400-357-7
Rating:
4/10.
Next Time:
Just to make the gap between episodes a week, I'll take a peek into Days of Future Past.
There are full-colour illustrations on every page; Alistair Hughes provides all of them except for the first, which is a photo taken during the filming of Marco Polo. Unfortunately they are mostly lifeless, and do little to add to the story (although having said that, they are still quite a bit better than the artwork accompanying Who Discovered America? and Rennigan's Record, reviewed earlier). The exception is the picture of the Eminence trying on his gown, which I thought was well done. I note that this is the only image not to feature Susan and the Doctor; so it may be that Hughes' efforts to capture their features (which he does successfully) cramped his style.
The illustrations mean that the story is only around 2,500 words (based on a quick line count). By way of comparison, Dialogue Disasters is about 3,900, and only half a story; so Gatiss hasn't much room for manoeuvre here. His prose is appropriately spare, and he manages to conjure up a society with baroque politics and bizarre architecture very quickly. He gets in a reminder that the TARDIS at this point can change it's form, and his penchant for grim humour comes through, too. I love the fact that they have a Minister of Poverty, a Minister of Disease, and a Minister of Death; and the climax of Urrozdinee's tale is also blackly comic.
Not that this is a dark story. On the contrary, it's a tourist's eye view of a moment in the future politics of Earth, and as such quite light and inconsequential. I have marked it down for that, I think, which is a little unfair; but it's the way my mind works. Similarly, I had unfortunately been spoiled and knew about the reveal at the end, so I've no idea if I would have worked it out. This is a shame, and again costs the story points through no fault of its own.
What of the Doctor and Susan, then? They are well characterised; but before I say much more, a brief aside.
Doctor Who: The Early Adventures, part 1
As I mentioned in my review of Frayed, several people have argued - eloquently - that the Doctor shouldn't have had adventures before An Unearthly Child. I'm in two minds. Certainly he shouldn't be "Doctorish", to coin a phrase, since the arc of the first thirteen episodes is, basically, him becoming the Doctor; but on the other hand, as we learn later, part of his motivation for going into exile is that he wants to see the universe properly, to interact with it. So that's what he should be doing - but cautiously, like a tourist rather than an adventurer.
Most of what happens with the time travellers here fits that. I particularly like the Wizard of Oz moment when they go up to a great door and a hatch opens, someone pokes their head out and tells them to go away. There is another point when they have to get away and the Doctor does something a bit "adventurish"; but as soon as their escape is complete he comments that "that's quite enough adventure for a while", so Gatiss can be let off the hook for that!
Unfortunately, we immediately hit the old problem of an author writing for a canon consisting of the TV stories plus this one. The Doctor continues, adding that it's time to put down some roots, and comments that he has a place in mind if the Ship can make it. There are rather too many stories where he makes this decision - Quinnis and Bide-a-Wee, to name a couple of others - and the obvious intention is that he is thinking of 1960s London. However, this needn't be the case. Perhaps he wants to make roots in the Fourth Universe? Or perhaps it's just a case of it taking a few tries to get there? Whatever, it can be made to work. And that's good enough.
Published:
Date: September 1994
ISBN: 1-85400-357-7
Rating:
4/10.
Next Time:
Just to make the gap between episodes a week, I'll take a peek into Days of Future Past.
Monday 19 November 2012
Dialogue Disasters, scene 5 (conclusion)
Ian was furious. He quickly gathered up their things, not looking at the
object of his anger; then hurried after Barbara. When he caught up,
Barbara was holding Vicki by the shoulders and listening to her as she
let off steam.
"You don't understand - I've got to go back! Something's controlling the Doctor - he would never behave like that otherwise!"
Barbara was being calm and reasonable, back to her usual self. "Vicki, you don't know him like Ian and I do. Did I ever explain how we first came to be travelling with him? He kidnapped us, took us out of our own time because he was afraid of what would happen if he let us go once we'd seen the inside of the TARDIS. Since then he's said some appalling things, deliberately put us in danger to satisfy his curiosity -"
"But that's not the Doctor I know! He's kind, and wise, not..." She trailed off.
Ian decided to step in. "Vicki, Barbara's right. He used to be different, a much harder person to like. We thought he'd changed, mellowed; but then we'd thought that before. Just before he threatened to throw us off the ship." He shook his head. "I don't know. I believed it was going to stick this time, but you never can tell with the Doctor."
"Stop it! Now you're making fun of him! Didn't you listen? It was his voice but those weren't his words. Well, they were, but he wouldn't say them in that way. Oh, I don't know. I'm so confused." She sat down, elbows on knees and chin in hands.
Barbara squatted beside her. "I know it's hard to believe, when someone you care about does something like this. But it's not always aliens at fault; sometimes it's just that people are flawed, that they don't always think clearly. If we give him time to consider, I'm sure he'll see what he's done. Come with us for now, and if the Doctor hasn't turned up by mid-afternoon we'll come back for him. How about that?"
Vicki looked into Barbara's kind, gentle face and smiled, sadly. Then she nodded.
They set off for the ship. Barbara hung back a little, so that she could have a quiet word with Ian. "I'm going to kill that man," she said.
"You'll have to stand in line," Ian replied.
Soon they were down in the valley again, and as they started making their way through the longer grass Vicki stopped. "Ouch!" she said. "These blades are sharp."
Ian gestured to his bag. "I've brought our clothes - do you want to get your leggings and boots back on?"
Vicki paused, uncertain. "My swimming costume's still wet. I don't want to get everything else wet too."
"Tell you what," said Barbara, taking charge. "Ian, you stay here; Vicki, let's go behind that stone and change. OK?"
They divided up the clothes and the pair left Ian looking tactfully in the opposite direction. He decided his trunks were dry enough, and pulled his trousers on over them. As he put his socks on he decided Vicki was right: his feet were scratched from less than a minute walking in the long grass. Then, just on the edge of hearing, some of the girls' conversation reached him.
"-can be pretty dull at times." That was Barbara.
"But he means well."
"Oh, yes. And he's very reliable."
"That's a good thing, isn't it?"
"I suppose so. And yet, I keep thinking-"
The wind changed. Ian could make out no more, until he heard Vicki giggle; and soon after the others appeared, dressed for walking again.
Barbara must have seen the expression on his face, for she stopped suddenly, before striding up to him and taking his arm. "Don't worry," she said, "whatever happens we'll see it through. Together."
Will we? he thought. But he nodded, and they set off again.
Ian let Barbara and Vicki do most of the talking. He was good at hiding his feelings, much of the time even from himself; but right now everything was too raw, and he didn't trust himself to say much. His vision had narrowed; he could see the grass-covered ground in front of him, and little else. "Careful, Ian," said Barbara, sounding concerned as she steered him around one of the stones.
How he hated those stones! Everywhere you looked, there they were, pinning the landscape to the planet. How many had they passed already? How many more before they got back to the ship? He took it out on the next one as they passed, giving it a swift kick - stupidly, because it hurt his toes and did nothing to the stone. Ruefully he lifted his foot, and noticed that something was pressing into his other sole, making it sore to stand on. Barbara and Vicki were a little way ahead, now, so he called to them. "Hang on, you two - something's got into my shoe." They turned and started back.
Ian leaned against the stone and levered off his shoe, shaking it out. As usual the stones were tiny, far too small to be as uncomfortable as they undoubtedly were. He was a bit tired, so sat down to put the shoe back on again. "That's got it," he said, a little more cheerfully. "Quite a bit of soil had got in there."
Barbara, who had walked back beside Vicki, took an extra step forward. She had an odd look on her face, as if she were worried about something. "Let me take a look," she said.
"See here, Barbara, it's just earth - it's not worth bothering with. Unless you're going to analyse the soil type! And it'll be spread far and wide now, I can tell you!"
"No! There must be something we can do?" She looked horrified; behind her, Vicki wore a similar expression.
Ian was starting to feel irritated. "Sorry, Barbara, I'm not the greatest target for your jiving and your high jinks right now." He started to get up - and found he couldn't. "Hey - what's happening? I can't move my legs!"
Barbara nodded. "Right, I'm going. Do you want Vicki to stay with you?"
"I don't understand. Just give me a hand, Barbara, for Heaven's sake! Get me up!"
"Alright then. We'll be back as soon as we can. Hang on, Ian! You're not going to die on me. Do you hear? You are not. Going. To die! I...I forbid it!" He could see the determination on her face, the battle not to cry. What was going on?
They turned and ran, towards the distant TARDIS. Ian struggled, but couldn't lift himself. He called after them. "Barbara! Vicki! Come back! Barbara! BARBARAAA!"
His words were lost on the breeze.
Next Time:
As the music cuts in we see the title of the second episode, The Talking Stones of Tyron; but there should be a gap between episodes, surely? So I'll insert something out of sequence. What shall it be, what shall it be...
I know! What about Urrozdinee? Yes, let's go there.
"You don't understand - I've got to go back! Something's controlling the Doctor - he would never behave like that otherwise!"
Barbara was being calm and reasonable, back to her usual self. "Vicki, you don't know him like Ian and I do. Did I ever explain how we first came to be travelling with him? He kidnapped us, took us out of our own time because he was afraid of what would happen if he let us go once we'd seen the inside of the TARDIS. Since then he's said some appalling things, deliberately put us in danger to satisfy his curiosity -"
"But that's not the Doctor I know! He's kind, and wise, not..." She trailed off.
Ian decided to step in. "Vicki, Barbara's right. He used to be different, a much harder person to like. We thought he'd changed, mellowed; but then we'd thought that before. Just before he threatened to throw us off the ship." He shook his head. "I don't know. I believed it was going to stick this time, but you never can tell with the Doctor."
"Stop it! Now you're making fun of him! Didn't you listen? It was his voice but those weren't his words. Well, they were, but he wouldn't say them in that way. Oh, I don't know. I'm so confused." She sat down, elbows on knees and chin in hands.
Barbara squatted beside her. "I know it's hard to believe, when someone you care about does something like this. But it's not always aliens at fault; sometimes it's just that people are flawed, that they don't always think clearly. If we give him time to consider, I'm sure he'll see what he's done. Come with us for now, and if the Doctor hasn't turned up by mid-afternoon we'll come back for him. How about that?"
Vicki looked into Barbara's kind, gentle face and smiled, sadly. Then she nodded.
They set off for the ship. Barbara hung back a little, so that she could have a quiet word with Ian. "I'm going to kill that man," she said.
"You'll have to stand in line," Ian replied.
Soon they were down in the valley again, and as they started making their way through the longer grass Vicki stopped. "Ouch!" she said. "These blades are sharp."
Ian gestured to his bag. "I've brought our clothes - do you want to get your leggings and boots back on?"
Vicki paused, uncertain. "My swimming costume's still wet. I don't want to get everything else wet too."
"Tell you what," said Barbara, taking charge. "Ian, you stay here; Vicki, let's go behind that stone and change. OK?"
They divided up the clothes and the pair left Ian looking tactfully in the opposite direction. He decided his trunks were dry enough, and pulled his trousers on over them. As he put his socks on he decided Vicki was right: his feet were scratched from less than a minute walking in the long grass. Then, just on the edge of hearing, some of the girls' conversation reached him.
"-can be pretty dull at times." That was Barbara.
"But he means well."
"Oh, yes. And he's very reliable."
"That's a good thing, isn't it?"
"I suppose so. And yet, I keep thinking-"
The wind changed. Ian could make out no more, until he heard Vicki giggle; and soon after the others appeared, dressed for walking again.
Barbara must have seen the expression on his face, for she stopped suddenly, before striding up to him and taking his arm. "Don't worry," she said, "whatever happens we'll see it through. Together."
Will we? he thought. But he nodded, and they set off again.
Ian let Barbara and Vicki do most of the talking. He was good at hiding his feelings, much of the time even from himself; but right now everything was too raw, and he didn't trust himself to say much. His vision had narrowed; he could see the grass-covered ground in front of him, and little else. "Careful, Ian," said Barbara, sounding concerned as she steered him around one of the stones.
How he hated those stones! Everywhere you looked, there they were, pinning the landscape to the planet. How many had they passed already? How many more before they got back to the ship? He took it out on the next one as they passed, giving it a swift kick - stupidly, because it hurt his toes and did nothing to the stone. Ruefully he lifted his foot, and noticed that something was pressing into his other sole, making it sore to stand on. Barbara and Vicki were a little way ahead, now, so he called to them. "Hang on, you two - something's got into my shoe." They turned and started back.
Ian leaned against the stone and levered off his shoe, shaking it out. As usual the stones were tiny, far too small to be as uncomfortable as they undoubtedly were. He was a bit tired, so sat down to put the shoe back on again. "That's got it," he said, a little more cheerfully. "Quite a bit of soil had got in there."
Barbara, who had walked back beside Vicki, took an extra step forward. She had an odd look on her face, as if she were worried about something. "Let me take a look," she said.
"See here, Barbara, it's just earth - it's not worth bothering with. Unless you're going to analyse the soil type! And it'll be spread far and wide now, I can tell you!"
"No! There must be something we can do?" She looked horrified; behind her, Vicki wore a similar expression.
Ian was starting to feel irritated. "Sorry, Barbara, I'm not the greatest target for your jiving and your high jinks right now." He started to get up - and found he couldn't. "Hey - what's happening? I can't move my legs!"
Barbara nodded. "Right, I'm going. Do you want Vicki to stay with you?"
"I don't understand. Just give me a hand, Barbara, for Heaven's sake! Get me up!"
"Alright then. We'll be back as soon as we can. Hang on, Ian! You're not going to die on me. Do you hear? You are not. Going. To die! I...I forbid it!" He could see the determination on her face, the battle not to cry. What was going on?
They turned and ran, towards the distant TARDIS. Ian struggled, but couldn't lift himself. He called after them. "Barbara! Vicki! Come back! Barbara! BARBARAAA!"
His words were lost on the breeze.
Next Time:
As the music cuts in we see the title of the second episode, The Talking Stones of Tyron; but there should be a gap between episodes, surely? So I'll insert something out of sequence. What shall it be, what shall it be...
I know! What about Urrozdinee? Yes, let's go there.
Friday 16 November 2012
Dialogue Disasters, scene 4
Barbara kept an eye on Ian as they walked up the hill. He was obviously
tense, and was walking at an almost funereal pace, delaying their return
to the picnic site. She didn't want to say anything while they were
with Vicki; but the girl was unusually quiet, and Barbara wondered if
she might have noticed the change in Ian's manner too.
Was she worrying about nothing? It was an aspect of her personality that came to the fore all too frequently, she knew; her mother had commented on it often enough. "I wish you could just relax," she'd say. It did happen, sometimes - after a week or so in the villa near Rome, for example - but it just wasn't something that came easily to her.
Tyron had seemed so promising when they first arrived, and in truth there still wasn't anything wrong with the world; but perhaps they brought their own troubles with them. She remembered first stepping out of the TARDIS into the warm air, smelling the perfume of the flowers and listening to the chittering of the insects. There were no birds, but the smaller creatures made just as much noise, creating a pleasant backdrop of sound.
The TARDIS had landed at the edge of a wood, in a broad, grassy valley. "It's beautiful!" Vicki had exclaimed, turning slowly round and round. "Everything's so bright and fresh!"
Ian was more focused on the feature that did the most to make the landscape look alien. "Doctor, look at the stones. There's a pattern to how they are arranged, but I can't quite figure it out."
"Indeed. Definitely a sign of intelligent life, I would say. We should investigate further."
Of course, they had. The stones were regular, about five feet high and almost as broad at their widest point. They had oval bases, tapering to a curved peak a hand's breadth across. Barbara was reminded of gravestones, but it didn't feel like a cemetery; and the stones were free of markings other than those caused by erosion from the wind and rain. The arrangement was puzzling; there were no straight lines, but each seemed to be about twelve yards from its nearest neighbours. As she looked around, she noticed an isolated hill not too far away.
"Ian," she called, "why don't we climb that hill? We might get a better sense of the pattern from a higher vantage point."
"Good idea. Doctor! Vicki!"
And so they had gone together, walking through the long blue-green grass, like a perfectly normal family on a day out in the country. Vicki chatted excitedly, Ian had a spring in his step, the Doctor kept stopping to examine things; all was well. The hill was steeper than it had looked from a distance, and higher, too; but with some huffing and puffing from the Doctor they made their way to the top, and looked down on the valley below.
"Sunflowers!" exclaimed Barbara, suddenly. The others looked at her. "The stones are like the seeds of a sunflower, arranged in opposing spirals."
"Of course!" Ian looked as if he were kicking himself for not thinking of it. "Based on the Fibonacci sequence. the number of spirals in a sunflower winding in each direction always matches a pair of consecutive numbers in the sequence - 13 and 21, for instance. Here the lower number is" - he paused to count - "34, so the higher must be-"
"55," interposed Vicki. "I remember Fibonacci; we covered that when I was six, I think. After the first two numbers, 1 and 2, each is the sum of the previous two in the sequence. So it goes 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55..."
"Thank you, Vicki, that's impressive." Ian looked both amused and surprised.
"There's another neat thing about it. As you go up the sequence, the fraction you get from pairs of numbers - 34/55ths with these stones, for example - gets closer and closer to the Golden Ratio. Which crops up in all sorts of places. You can find it in art, music, nature..."
"Yes, yes, thank you, child." The Doctor, as usual, was impatient with people explaining what he already knew; Barbara had been quite enjoying the reminder, since her maths was a bit rusty. "That's all very good, but does it explain why these stones are as they are, hmm?"
Barbara was getting a little bored with the focus on the stones. "Perhaps we could let you mull that over, Doctor, while we took a bit more of a look around? It's a lovely day, and it seems a shame to waste it."
Vicki was instantly energised. "Yes, let's explore!" She took another look around, this time paying more attention to the landscape than the stones. "Isn't that a lake over there, around the bend in the valley? I think I can see the light reflecting on water." She turned to Barbara. "Can we go for a swim? Please?"
So it had been decided, and they had all traipsed back to the ship to pick up some supplies before heading off for the lake. Barbara had hesitated when Ian suggested a picnic - they hadn't had much luck with them on previous trips - but Ian was logical and Vicki enthusiastic, so she quickly gave in.
And now, here they were, wet but warm; almost back at their picnic spot. She hoped she'd dialled the right codes on the food machine.
The Doctor was still reading, but he put his book down and sat up when he saw the others coming. "Chesterton, my boy, is something the matter?"
"Well, I-" Ian began, but the Doctor didn't give him a chance to continue as he turned to Vicki.
"Goodness, child, look at you, all soaking wet. You need to put on something dry, before you catch your death of cold."
Vicki smiled indulgently. "I'm fine, Doctor. It's a lovely warm day, and in this sun I'll be dry in no time."
The Doctor's mood darkened. "You'll do as you're told, young lady, and no more arguing with your elders! Honestly, I don't know what your father taught you, but it certainly wasn't how to behave!"
Vicki looked as if she'd been slapped; Ian stepped in to defend her. "Doctor, you can't-"
"Oh, do shut up, Chessington! It's quite clear to me that what she needs is some proper discipline. You and Miss Wright have been using the death of her father on Dido as an excuse to indulge poor behaviour for far too long. She should be over that by now, but she's spoilt; soon she'll be complaining because there are no animals on Tyron large enough for her to saddle with a stupid nickname."
With a cry, Vicki turned and ran off, face in her hands. Barbara glared at the old man. "You've gone too far this time, Doctor. I'm going after her, but don't think I'm just going to let this lie."
As she set off, she heard Ian behind her. "I don't care what you say to me, but that's no way to treat a young girl. We're going back to the ship; think about what you've said, and when you're ready to behave like a human being again and apologise to Vicki come and join us. Not before. Understand?"
And then they were gone, leaving the old man to his thoughts.
Next Time:
The final scene of this episode.
Was she worrying about nothing? It was an aspect of her personality that came to the fore all too frequently, she knew; her mother had commented on it often enough. "I wish you could just relax," she'd say. It did happen, sometimes - after a week or so in the villa near Rome, for example - but it just wasn't something that came easily to her.
Tyron had seemed so promising when they first arrived, and in truth there still wasn't anything wrong with the world; but perhaps they brought their own troubles with them. She remembered first stepping out of the TARDIS into the warm air, smelling the perfume of the flowers and listening to the chittering of the insects. There were no birds, but the smaller creatures made just as much noise, creating a pleasant backdrop of sound.
The TARDIS had landed at the edge of a wood, in a broad, grassy valley. "It's beautiful!" Vicki had exclaimed, turning slowly round and round. "Everything's so bright and fresh!"
Ian was more focused on the feature that did the most to make the landscape look alien. "Doctor, look at the stones. There's a pattern to how they are arranged, but I can't quite figure it out."
"Indeed. Definitely a sign of intelligent life, I would say. We should investigate further."
Of course, they had. The stones were regular, about five feet high and almost as broad at their widest point. They had oval bases, tapering to a curved peak a hand's breadth across. Barbara was reminded of gravestones, but it didn't feel like a cemetery; and the stones were free of markings other than those caused by erosion from the wind and rain. The arrangement was puzzling; there were no straight lines, but each seemed to be about twelve yards from its nearest neighbours. As she looked around, she noticed an isolated hill not too far away.
"Ian," she called, "why don't we climb that hill? We might get a better sense of the pattern from a higher vantage point."
"Good idea. Doctor! Vicki!"
And so they had gone together, walking through the long blue-green grass, like a perfectly normal family on a day out in the country. Vicki chatted excitedly, Ian had a spring in his step, the Doctor kept stopping to examine things; all was well. The hill was steeper than it had looked from a distance, and higher, too; but with some huffing and puffing from the Doctor they made their way to the top, and looked down on the valley below.
"Sunflowers!" exclaimed Barbara, suddenly. The others looked at her. "The stones are like the seeds of a sunflower, arranged in opposing spirals."
"Of course!" Ian looked as if he were kicking himself for not thinking of it. "Based on the Fibonacci sequence. the number of spirals in a sunflower winding in each direction always matches a pair of consecutive numbers in the sequence - 13 and 21, for instance. Here the lower number is" - he paused to count - "34, so the higher must be-"
"55," interposed Vicki. "I remember Fibonacci; we covered that when I was six, I think. After the first two numbers, 1 and 2, each is the sum of the previous two in the sequence. So it goes 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55..."
"Thank you, Vicki, that's impressive." Ian looked both amused and surprised.
"There's another neat thing about it. As you go up the sequence, the fraction you get from pairs of numbers - 34/55ths with these stones, for example - gets closer and closer to the Golden Ratio. Which crops up in all sorts of places. You can find it in art, music, nature..."
"Yes, yes, thank you, child." The Doctor, as usual, was impatient with people explaining what he already knew; Barbara had been quite enjoying the reminder, since her maths was a bit rusty. "That's all very good, but does it explain why these stones are as they are, hmm?"
Barbara was getting a little bored with the focus on the stones. "Perhaps we could let you mull that over, Doctor, while we took a bit more of a look around? It's a lovely day, and it seems a shame to waste it."
Vicki was instantly energised. "Yes, let's explore!" She took another look around, this time paying more attention to the landscape than the stones. "Isn't that a lake over there, around the bend in the valley? I think I can see the light reflecting on water." She turned to Barbara. "Can we go for a swim? Please?"
So it had been decided, and they had all traipsed back to the ship to pick up some supplies before heading off for the lake. Barbara had hesitated when Ian suggested a picnic - they hadn't had much luck with them on previous trips - but Ian was logical and Vicki enthusiastic, so she quickly gave in.
And now, here they were, wet but warm; almost back at their picnic spot. She hoped she'd dialled the right codes on the food machine.
The Doctor was still reading, but he put his book down and sat up when he saw the others coming. "Chesterton, my boy, is something the matter?"
"Well, I-" Ian began, but the Doctor didn't give him a chance to continue as he turned to Vicki.
"Goodness, child, look at you, all soaking wet. You need to put on something dry, before you catch your death of cold."
Vicki smiled indulgently. "I'm fine, Doctor. It's a lovely warm day, and in this sun I'll be dry in no time."
The Doctor's mood darkened. "You'll do as you're told, young lady, and no more arguing with your elders! Honestly, I don't know what your father taught you, but it certainly wasn't how to behave!"
Vicki looked as if she'd been slapped; Ian stepped in to defend her. "Doctor, you can't-"
"Oh, do shut up, Chessington! It's quite clear to me that what she needs is some proper discipline. You and Miss Wright have been using the death of her father on Dido as an excuse to indulge poor behaviour for far too long. She should be over that by now, but she's spoilt; soon she'll be complaining because there are no animals on Tyron large enough for her to saddle with a stupid nickname."
With a cry, Vicki turned and ran off, face in her hands. Barbara glared at the old man. "You've gone too far this time, Doctor. I'm going after her, but don't think I'm just going to let this lie."
As she set off, she heard Ian behind her. "I don't care what you say to me, but that's no way to treat a young girl. We're going back to the ship; think about what you've said, and when you're ready to behave like a human being again and apologise to Vicki come and join us. Not before. Understand?"
And then they were gone, leaving the old man to his thoughts.
Next Time:
The final scene of this episode.
Wednesday 14 November 2012
Dialogue Disasters, scene 3
As they chatted, Vicki noticed Barbara's attention kept drifting up the
bank. She knew why, but it was still distracting. Eventually, she turned
round in the water and looked for herself. Ian was lying on his side,
talking to the Doctor. Vicki was too far away to hear the conversation,
but they seemed relaxed.
"I'm sorry," said Barbara, "I didn't mean to do that. It was very rude of me."
Vicki turned back, a knowing half-smile on her face. She liked Barbara, even though she was so hopelessly old-fashioned. The teacher didn't really have much of a sense of adventure, though. Not like the Doctor. The race had been fun, but it was starting to get a bit boring in the lake, just talking. Time to liven things up.
"Hey, Barbara, why don't we play a trick on Ian? Call him down here to help us out, and then pull him in!"
Barbara wasn't convinced. "Oh, I don't know if that's a very good idea..."
"He's still in his trunks, isn't he? I bet he'll laugh about it afterwards. Oh, come on, Barbara! Please?" Vicki could tell that she was wavering. "He's probably had enough of a break anyway; perhaps we could race him too?"
Barbara hesitated. "It seems a shame to disturb him now he's settled, though," she said; but just then Ian stood up. That did it. Barbara quickly agreed, and they signalled for Ian to come back down.
Vicki thought he looked a bit serious as he approached, as if something were troubling him. She wondered if perhaps now wasn't the time for a prank; but it was too late to talk to Barbara about it.
"What can I do for you ladies?" Ian was smiling now; but Vicki had spotted the moment when he decided he wasn't going to share his thoughts with them.
"Why thank you, kind sir," replied Barbara. "If you would be so good as to lend us a hand...?" She raised her arm; Ian swept an imaginary hat from his head and bowed, theatrically. He reached down to her.
As soon as he had a firm grip, Barbara pulled. Ian staggered, but managed to brace himself, his feet right on the edge. "Oh, no you don't!" he said, tugging on her arm with all his strength.
"Vicki, help me!" said Barbara, and the girl moved at last. No time for indecision now. She reached up and grabbed Ian by the ankle, as Barbara was being lifted from the water. It was enough: his foot skidded, and all three of them tumbled noisily back into the lake.
They rose to the surface spluttering and laughing. "Hoo, I needed that," said Ian. He took Barbara's hand, under the water; and suddenly Vicki felt like a gooseberry. "I think I've had enough of swimming for now," she announced. "I'll just go and see what the Doctor's doing."
For a second Vicki thought Ian was going to say something; he had an odd, thoughtful look on his face. But he just nodded. Barbara noticed it as well, and made a point of examining her other hand.
"Goodness, look at those wrinkles! I think it's time for me to get out, too." She looked at Ian. "Coming?"
"Well, we wouldn't want to let the food bars go cold, would we?"
They clambered out of the water.
Next Time:
Scene 4.
"I'm sorry," said Barbara, "I didn't mean to do that. It was very rude of me."
Vicki turned back, a knowing half-smile on her face. She liked Barbara, even though she was so hopelessly old-fashioned. The teacher didn't really have much of a sense of adventure, though. Not like the Doctor. The race had been fun, but it was starting to get a bit boring in the lake, just talking. Time to liven things up.
"Hey, Barbara, why don't we play a trick on Ian? Call him down here to help us out, and then pull him in!"
Barbara wasn't convinced. "Oh, I don't know if that's a very good idea..."
"He's still in his trunks, isn't he? I bet he'll laugh about it afterwards. Oh, come on, Barbara! Please?" Vicki could tell that she was wavering. "He's probably had enough of a break anyway; perhaps we could race him too?"
Barbara hesitated. "It seems a shame to disturb him now he's settled, though," she said; but just then Ian stood up. That did it. Barbara quickly agreed, and they signalled for Ian to come back down.
Vicki thought he looked a bit serious as he approached, as if something were troubling him. She wondered if perhaps now wasn't the time for a prank; but it was too late to talk to Barbara about it.
"What can I do for you ladies?" Ian was smiling now; but Vicki had spotted the moment when he decided he wasn't going to share his thoughts with them.
"Why thank you, kind sir," replied Barbara. "If you would be so good as to lend us a hand...?" She raised her arm; Ian swept an imaginary hat from his head and bowed, theatrically. He reached down to her.
As soon as he had a firm grip, Barbara pulled. Ian staggered, but managed to brace himself, his feet right on the edge. "Oh, no you don't!" he said, tugging on her arm with all his strength.
"Vicki, help me!" said Barbara, and the girl moved at last. No time for indecision now. She reached up and grabbed Ian by the ankle, as Barbara was being lifted from the water. It was enough: his foot skidded, and all three of them tumbled noisily back into the lake.
They rose to the surface spluttering and laughing. "Hoo, I needed that," said Ian. He took Barbara's hand, under the water; and suddenly Vicki felt like a gooseberry. "I think I've had enough of swimming for now," she announced. "I'll just go and see what the Doctor's doing."
For a second Vicki thought Ian was going to say something; he had an odd, thoughtful look on his face. But he just nodded. Barbara noticed it as well, and made a point of examining her other hand.
"Goodness, look at those wrinkles! I think it's time for me to get out, too." She looked at Ian. "Coming?"
"Well, we wouldn't want to let the food bars go cold, would we?"
They clambered out of the water.
Next Time:
Scene 4.
Monday 12 November 2012
Dialogue Disasters, scene 2
Ian spread out his towel and lay down next to the Doctor, just far enough away to be out of the shade. He glanced across at the old man: despite the warmth he was still wearing his waistcoat and cravat, though he had at least hung his jacket over the stone behind him. The Doctor didn't look up from his reading, and Ian's gaze swung back to Barbara, who was performing a leisurely backstroke close to a patch of reeds.
"Don't stay out in the sun too long, my boy. This star produces a lot more ultraviolet rays than you are used to."
Ian turned; the Doctor still had his nose in his book. "Thank you, Doctor, but the cream from the TARDIS seems to be doing the trick - and it's stayed on amazingly well, I must say."
"Well, as I said, you need to apply the counteragent to remove it. But it pays to be cautious, hm?"
The younger man nodded; it was the easiest response. Then he heard a commotion, and turned back to the lake to see Barbara and Vicki playfighting, before racing off at speed. He felt a pang of envy. The Doctor spoke again.
"They are more comfortable in the water than you, are they not?"
"Yes, they are," replied Ian, ruefully. "I've never been much of one for swimming. 'Not my bag', as some of my students used to say."
"You stayed in as long as you did because of her, didn't you?"
Ian sighed. He didn't really want to be having this conversation right now. "Yes, Doctor. Because of Barbara."
"Have you spoken to her, like I said? Have you discussed things properly?"
"Yes! We've talked about it several times now, in fact. I may be a slow mover when it comes to matters of the heart, but I do get there eventually. And - well, there's a reason I took my time."
The Doctor was silent; perhaps, for once, he was going to be tactful and not pursue the subject. More likely his attention was still mostly on his book. Ian watched the girls talking by the bank, and wondered what they were saying.
"You're getting lazy, Chesterton. Soon Miss Wright will notice that you're not really the athlete you pretend. You're not up to snuff; and what will hold her attention when she realises it, hm? You don't think your personality could interest her for long, do you? You're as stolid, dependable, and exciting as a block of wood."
Ian swung round, jaw clenched, and stared in amazement. The old man was lying there, book still open, as if he'd just been passing the time of day. "Doctor!" he called - but couldn't think of anything else to add.
The Doctor looked up. "What is it, my boy? I was just thinking that sometimes things are not discussed in time, important things; and that can cause regret later. But that's all dealt with now, isn't it? Everything's been said that needs to be?"
"Oh, yes, I think quite enough's been said, thank you so very much." Ian couldn't bring himself to continue and stood up, taking a few steps away from the stone.
Was the Doctor right? Were his hopes for the future based on an illusion, an impossible dream based on nothing more than the fact that he and Barbara had been thrown together when they were kidnapped? No! He was sure that wasn't the case.
"Ian!" He looked down to the lake, where Barbara was standing, chest-deep in water, by the bank. "Give us a hand, would you?" Floating beside her, Vicki gave a cheery wave.
They could get out of there easily, he thought; she just wants to see you in action. Physical action. Is that all I am to her, then? Some sort of friendly body? There's more to it than that, much more. I'm sure of it. Aren't I?
He set off down the slope towards her.
Next Time:
Scene 3.
"Don't stay out in the sun too long, my boy. This star produces a lot more ultraviolet rays than you are used to."
Ian turned; the Doctor still had his nose in his book. "Thank you, Doctor, but the cream from the TARDIS seems to be doing the trick - and it's stayed on amazingly well, I must say."
"Well, as I said, you need to apply the counteragent to remove it. But it pays to be cautious, hm?"
The younger man nodded; it was the easiest response. Then he heard a commotion, and turned back to the lake to see Barbara and Vicki playfighting, before racing off at speed. He felt a pang of envy. The Doctor spoke again.
"They are more comfortable in the water than you, are they not?"
"Yes, they are," replied Ian, ruefully. "I've never been much of one for swimming. 'Not my bag', as some of my students used to say."
"You stayed in as long as you did because of her, didn't you?"
Ian sighed. He didn't really want to be having this conversation right now. "Yes, Doctor. Because of Barbara."
"Have you spoken to her, like I said? Have you discussed things properly?"
"Yes! We've talked about it several times now, in fact. I may be a slow mover when it comes to matters of the heart, but I do get there eventually. And - well, there's a reason I took my time."
The Doctor was silent; perhaps, for once, he was going to be tactful and not pursue the subject. More likely his attention was still mostly on his book. Ian watched the girls talking by the bank, and wondered what they were saying.
"You're getting lazy, Chesterton. Soon Miss Wright will notice that you're not really the athlete you pretend. You're not up to snuff; and what will hold her attention when she realises it, hm? You don't think your personality could interest her for long, do you? You're as stolid, dependable, and exciting as a block of wood."
Ian swung round, jaw clenched, and stared in amazement. The old man was lying there, book still open, as if he'd just been passing the time of day. "Doctor!" he called - but couldn't think of anything else to add.
The Doctor looked up. "What is it, my boy? I was just thinking that sometimes things are not discussed in time, important things; and that can cause regret later. But that's all dealt with now, isn't it? Everything's been said that needs to be?"
"Oh, yes, I think quite enough's been said, thank you so very much." Ian couldn't bring himself to continue and stood up, taking a few steps away from the stone.
Was the Doctor right? Were his hopes for the future based on an illusion, an impossible dream based on nothing more than the fact that he and Barbara had been thrown together when they were kidnapped? No! He was sure that wasn't the case.
"Ian!" He looked down to the lake, where Barbara was standing, chest-deep in water, by the bank. "Give us a hand, would you?" Floating beside her, Vicki gave a cheery wave.
They could get out of there easily, he thought; she just wants to see you in action. Physical action. Is that all I am to her, then? Some sort of friendly body? There's more to it than that, much more. I'm sure of it. Aren't I?
He set off down the slope towards her.
Next Time:
Scene 3.
Friday 9 November 2012
Dialogue Disasters, scene 1
Barbara swam leisurely through the warm water, luxuriating in the feeling as it enveloped her, lifting her up in body and spirit. Ian was just climbing out, his wet back glistening in the yellow-white light of Tyron's sun; she watched him, surreptitiously, as he towelled his hair and strolled up the bank towards the Doctor, who lay reading in the shadow of a standing stone.
This is perfect, she thought, and wondered when the trouble would start. She was chiding herself for worrying unnecessarily when something erupted from the lake, noisily, showering her with water and momentarily blinding her.
"Got you!" cried a familiar voice, as Vicki's face swam into vague focus.
"Oh, have you indeed?" Barbara ducked beneath the surface where she could see more clearly again, and tried to grab the girl's legs; Vicki twisted out of her grasp and struck out for the shore. If it's a race you want, thought the teacher, I might surprise you; and she started after, feeling her muscles warm to the challenge as she picked up the rhythm of the crawl, one, two, breathe, one, two, breathe...
Barbara was gaining, but she was only the merest fraction swifter than her quarry. Vicki's foot was almost in reach, but the bank was coming up fast. She put on a last burst of speed and called out in triumph as she grabbed hold - just as Vicki's outstretched hand touched the side, and she, too, proclaimed victory.
"Well that was close," said the orphan. "You almost caught me then."
"'Almost'? I think you'll find you're the one who was almost fast enough."
Vicki paused for a second, then smiled knowingly. "Oh, I get it! You can't admit you came second when you're trying to impress Ian."
"I don't know what you mean," replied Barbara - unconvincingly.
"Really? I saw you watching him a few minutes ago."
"I was not!" Barbara felt her face flush. "I was just thinking. That's all."
Vicki smiled again, quietly, but decided to go easy on her. "Anyway, you're a fast swimmer for someone your age."
Barbara laughed, grateful for the opportunity to change the subject. "Thank you. I think. You're quick, too, and your technique is excellent. Have you been practising long?"
"Since I was a baby, of course." She noticed Barbara's expression. "Haven't you?"
"No, it was a little later than that for me."
Vicki looked faintly puzzled. "How strange." She lay back against the bank, feet moving gently to keep her in place. "This reminds me of the tanks back in Liddell Towers. It's the warmth, I think."
"Yes, there are hot springs underneath, extruding water heated by volcanic activity -"
"I know, Barbara. Ian already gave me the lecture."
"Sorry."
"It's just that all this is here without anyone to build it! No pipes, no plastic - not even a hypocaust. It feels - oh, I don't know. Pure, I suppose." She grinned. "Isn't it wonderful!"
Barbara laughed, feeling relaxed again. "It certainly is."
Next Time:
Scene 2.
This is perfect, she thought, and wondered when the trouble would start. She was chiding herself for worrying unnecessarily when something erupted from the lake, noisily, showering her with water and momentarily blinding her.
"Got you!" cried a familiar voice, as Vicki's face swam into vague focus.
"Oh, have you indeed?" Barbara ducked beneath the surface where she could see more clearly again, and tried to grab the girl's legs; Vicki twisted out of her grasp and struck out for the shore. If it's a race you want, thought the teacher, I might surprise you; and she started after, feeling her muscles warm to the challenge as she picked up the rhythm of the crawl, one, two, breathe, one, two, breathe...
Barbara was gaining, but she was only the merest fraction swifter than her quarry. Vicki's foot was almost in reach, but the bank was coming up fast. She put on a last burst of speed and called out in triumph as she grabbed hold - just as Vicki's outstretched hand touched the side, and she, too, proclaimed victory.
"Well that was close," said the orphan. "You almost caught me then."
"'Almost'? I think you'll find you're the one who was almost fast enough."
Vicki paused for a second, then smiled knowingly. "Oh, I get it! You can't admit you came second when you're trying to impress Ian."
"I don't know what you mean," replied Barbara - unconvincingly.
"Really? I saw you watching him a few minutes ago."
"I was not!" Barbara felt her face flush. "I was just thinking. That's all."
Vicki smiled again, quietly, but decided to go easy on her. "Anyway, you're a fast swimmer for someone your age."
Barbara laughed, grateful for the opportunity to change the subject. "Thank you. I think. You're quick, too, and your technique is excellent. Have you been practising long?"
"Since I was a baby, of course." She noticed Barbara's expression. "Haven't you?"
"No, it was a little later than that for me."
Vicki looked faintly puzzled. "How strange." She lay back against the bank, feet moving gently to keep her in place. "This reminds me of the tanks back in Liddell Towers. It's the warmth, I think."
"Yes, there are hot springs underneath, extruding water heated by volcanic activity -"
"I know, Barbara. Ian already gave me the lecture."
"Sorry."
"It's just that all this is here without anyone to build it! No pipes, no plastic - not even a hypocaust. It feels - oh, I don't know. Pure, I suppose." She grinned. "Isn't it wonderful!"
Barbara laughed, feeling relaxed again. "It certainly is."
Next Time:
Scene 2.
Wednesday 7 November 2012
CC6.02: The Rocket Men
We've met John Dorney before in this marathon, wearing his actor hat in The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance and Farewell, Great Macedon!;
but this is the first time we've hit one of the stories he's written.
He is actually the author of my favourite Companion Chronicle, Solitaire;
though as a full-cast two-hander I always feel that hardly counts, so
he may have to console himself with the fact that it's also one of only
eight 10/10 audios I've heard so far (out of about 200).
This one, though not quite up there, is still very good; and again the production suits the script. As long-time readers will know I'm a bit of a William Russell fan, and he's on good form here. There's a lot of emotion in his reading, which is appropriate to the underlying theme of the story as well as the action-packed nature of the narrative. Gus Brown as Ashman is a well-chosen foil, suitably nasty and with a distinct voice. I am renewing my determination to find out what an audio director actually does beyond the obvious, but the prolific Lisa Bowerman certainly gets a lot right - and congrats on the recent Benny anniversary, Ms. Bowerman! The sound design is excellent, modern yet appropriate to the story. If it had tried to match the style of the Republic serials where the rocket men originated I think it would have spoiled the mood.
Ah yes, the Republic serials. I've not seen King of the Rocket Men or its sequels, but I have seen the Disney film The Rocketeer, adapted from the comic of the same name (which is almost a tribute to the serials). The clever thing Dorney has done is to take all the pulpy trappings of the original, place it in a Golden Age SF setting - and then treat it completely seriously. This is not a pastiche, despite what a summary of the plot might indicate, and it's all the more original for that.
This is also one of the releases with an 'extra' - in this case an interview with the author, which was great for finding out how he went about writing it. Learning of the missing framing sequence (set after Barbara's death) and how this wouldn't fly with Cardiff was enlightening - I can see how it would have worked with this story, but to be honest it isn't needed anyway. I was also happy to find that he didn't have a story until he had the emotional hook, since this is something I often find myself; and to learn of his love for the experimental nature of this period of the show (in particular The Web Planet, which I hope I have boosted a little in my recent reviews).
Changing Formats
I liked the cover of this one - but since I only own it as a download I don't get to see it that often, or in a particularly high resolution. As I'm writing this it's the last day of the digital switchover for television in the UK. A couple of weeks ago some friends who were upgrading to a touch-screen edition of the Kindle gave us their old one, so we now have another electronic entertainment device to fight over. Technology rolls on.
Meanwhile, in our house, we don't have unlimited space (though it's still much bigger than the house I grew up in). Because of the way my mind works, one of the ways I tackle this is by being as ruthlessly organised as my health and family will allow; and one of the areas this has worked best is in collecting together all our audiovisual stuff. We have two alcoves in the lounge, either side of the fireplace, and have allocated the largest to this purpose. It houses the equipment (TV, hifi, Isaac's Gamecube, a few odds and ends); a small number of cassettes, videos, and LPs; and a large number of discs. All of my Doctor Who material is now in two huge cases (holding over 500 discs each), with the inlays, in chronological order from the Doctor's viewpoint. But there is also an increasing number of stories that I only own in digital format (the most recent being Voyage to Venus), and this change loses something that previous format changes haven't: the physical cover or inlay.
Some of my friends bemoaned the move to CD because they loved the physicality of vinyl. I didn't feel the same, but was sad to see the large record sleeves go. In fact, one of the few LPs I've kept - Anthony Phillips' Private Parts and Pieces II, Back to the Pavilion - I also have on CD, and I retain the original purely for the cover, by the wonderful Peter Cross. These things matter to me. Not as much as the actual content, but they matter.
I mention this because I have realised that the ideal Big Finish story combination for me would be download-only audio plus full booklet. If they started including a (printable-quality) PDF of the booklet with the download, I would be a happy man.
And our cupboard space would thank them too.
Published:
Date: August 2011
ISBN: 1-84435-581-5
Rating:
7.5/10.
Next Time:
Some more of my own fiction, for once being posted in its correct chronological position. This is probably going to be a two-part story; it's designed to go just before The Crusade, and I'll be releasing it in short chunks (about a page at a time). So join me for the first scene of the first episode, which is titled Dialogue Disasters (in honour of Cornell, Day and Topping's Discontinuity Guide) - although it may be a while before the reason becomes clear...
This one, though not quite up there, is still very good; and again the production suits the script. As long-time readers will know I'm a bit of a William Russell fan, and he's on good form here. There's a lot of emotion in his reading, which is appropriate to the underlying theme of the story as well as the action-packed nature of the narrative. Gus Brown as Ashman is a well-chosen foil, suitably nasty and with a distinct voice. I am renewing my determination to find out what an audio director actually does beyond the obvious, but the prolific Lisa Bowerman certainly gets a lot right - and congrats on the recent Benny anniversary, Ms. Bowerman! The sound design is excellent, modern yet appropriate to the story. If it had tried to match the style of the Republic serials where the rocket men originated I think it would have spoiled the mood.
Ah yes, the Republic serials. I've not seen King of the Rocket Men or its sequels, but I have seen the Disney film The Rocketeer, adapted from the comic of the same name (which is almost a tribute to the serials). The clever thing Dorney has done is to take all the pulpy trappings of the original, place it in a Golden Age SF setting - and then treat it completely seriously. This is not a pastiche, despite what a summary of the plot might indicate, and it's all the more original for that.
This is also one of the releases with an 'extra' - in this case an interview with the author, which was great for finding out how he went about writing it. Learning of the missing framing sequence (set after Barbara's death) and how this wouldn't fly with Cardiff was enlightening - I can see how it would have worked with this story, but to be honest it isn't needed anyway. I was also happy to find that he didn't have a story until he had the emotional hook, since this is something I often find myself; and to learn of his love for the experimental nature of this period of the show (in particular The Web Planet, which I hope I have boosted a little in my recent reviews).
Changing Formats
I liked the cover of this one - but since I only own it as a download I don't get to see it that often, or in a particularly high resolution. As I'm writing this it's the last day of the digital switchover for television in the UK. A couple of weeks ago some friends who were upgrading to a touch-screen edition of the Kindle gave us their old one, so we now have another electronic entertainment device to fight over. Technology rolls on.
Meanwhile, in our house, we don't have unlimited space (though it's still much bigger than the house I grew up in). Because of the way my mind works, one of the ways I tackle this is by being as ruthlessly organised as my health and family will allow; and one of the areas this has worked best is in collecting together all our audiovisual stuff. We have two alcoves in the lounge, either side of the fireplace, and have allocated the largest to this purpose. It houses the equipment (TV, hifi, Isaac's Gamecube, a few odds and ends); a small number of cassettes, videos, and LPs; and a large number of discs. All of my Doctor Who material is now in two huge cases (holding over 500 discs each), with the inlays, in chronological order from the Doctor's viewpoint. But there is also an increasing number of stories that I only own in digital format (the most recent being Voyage to Venus), and this change loses something that previous format changes haven't: the physical cover or inlay.
Some of my friends bemoaned the move to CD because they loved the physicality of vinyl. I didn't feel the same, but was sad to see the large record sleeves go. In fact, one of the few LPs I've kept - Anthony Phillips' Private Parts and Pieces II, Back to the Pavilion - I also have on CD, and I retain the original purely for the cover, by the wonderful Peter Cross. These things matter to me. Not as much as the actual content, but they matter.
I mention this because I have realised that the ideal Big Finish story combination for me would be download-only audio plus full booklet. If they started including a (printable-quality) PDF of the booklet with the download, I would be a happy man.
And our cupboard space would thank them too.
Published:
Date: August 2011
ISBN: 1-84435-581-5
Rating:
7.5/10.
Next Time:
Some more of my own fiction, for once being posted in its correct chronological position. This is probably going to be a two-part story; it's designed to go just before The Crusade, and I'll be releasing it in short chunks (about a page at a time). So join me for the first scene of the first episode, which is titled Dialogue Disasters (in honour of Cornell, Day and Topping's Discontinuity Guide) - although it may be a while before the reason becomes clear...
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