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.