Previous instalments: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4a Part 4b
The fever broke the following morning. I hadn't needed Doctor Renwick's
help after all; and fortunately he'd been delayed by some more urgent
case, so I didn't have to worry about awkward questions arising from an
examination. When I woke I rolled over and saw David, sleeping beside me
- he looked exhausted, poor dear. I propped myself up on an elbow and
watched him for a while, appreciating the lines of his face while
processing all the thoughts that had come to me during the night.
After a while I made my decision. I sat up, ready to try standing. A quiet voice stopped me.
"Susan?"
"Sorry, David, I didn't mean to wake you."
He reached up and stroked my cheek with his hand. "It's good to see you
looking better, love. Your temperature's come down, too. How do you
feel?"
I laughed. "Still a bit giddy." I lay back down and hugged him, my head
against his shoulder. He was warm, and I felt safe in his arms. After a
while I raised my head, and looked directly into his eyes. "David. I've
got something important to say."
"Okay." He looked at me, patiently, lovingly. Suddenly I felt shy and nervous again. I sat up; so did he.
"I've been thinking about what you said, what you wanted. About
children. I've never given you an answer, and I know how it's hurt you."
"There's no need -"
"No, David, listen. I... I really want to explain. There's been a couple
of things stopping me properly thinking about it. One is, this didn't
seem a very good place or time to start a family. But I've been
remembering some of the people I met on my travels, who had children in
much worse circumstances. The metaxi, for instance, who'd only just
landed on a new world: they had even less to work with than we do. And
the people of the Nest, who knew that many of their children would be
killed before they reached maturity. Just because the future's uncertain
doesn't mean we have to put life on hold! Every minute those children
live adds something to the universe, and it's taken this fever to make
me realise that denying someone a chance at life is no way to protect
them!
"Except, well, there's something else which means that's not quite the
choice we've got. The thing is, I won't be able to bear you a child.
Please don't ask me to tell you how I know; I just do. But there are
orphans out there, right now, who could do with a loving family. Their
lives are worth living, even as they are; but I think we could make them
so much better. So I guess what I'm saying is: how do you feel about
adopting?"
He looked at me in astonishment. "How do I feel about it? It's a
wonderful idea!" He paused, and looked worried again. "But it'll mean
some big changes. Are you sure you really want it? It's not the fever
making you say all this?"
I smiled. "I'm sure," I replied, and I was. That's another advantage of
my background: I don't have to say things to work out if I mean them.
David nodded, thoughtfully, then laughed. "Why not?" he said - and those were the last words either of us spoke for a while.
Our lives turn on such tiny things. Ian, Barbara, David - who knows what
would have happened to them if the TARDIS had taken me somewhere
different, just once? And then there's you. The odds against you even
being born were immense, but here you are. There are so few people I can
talk to about my travels; and I suppose it won't be that long before I
have to decide how much I can say to you, too. For now, though, when all
you want from a conversation is the sound of my voice, you can be my
confidante.
So close those eyes, my miracle baby. I'm sure you have a wonderful,
full life ahead of you, however long it lasts; but right now there's
nothing you need to do, except rest. Sleep well, my beautiful boy. My
Alex.
THE END
Next Time:
Some notes on the writing of this story - including some information on
when you'll get to read the other half of the adventure...
Friday, 17 August 2012
Wednesday, 15 August 2012
Short Trips and Sidesteps 3.01: The Longest Story in the World, by Paul Magrs
OK, so it's a bit cheeky to delay Susan's Tale to review this, but what
the heck. Paul Magrs is another writer who generally does something a
bit out-of-the-ordinary when writing for Who. In a way this is a
risky strategy, and sometimes it doesn't pay off (at least for me); but
on other occasions if definitely adds sparkle. Anyway, writing the
opening story for a collection dedicated to the less-explored byways of
the Whoniverse seems a perfect gig for him; and he has produced a very
good story to go into that slot. Because it's a story about stories.
The framing sequence is simply a retelling of the archetype for all such sequences, A Thousand and One Nights, while the inner narrative is a fanciful version of the story of Susan and her Grandfather in the days before they left their homeworld. This is all very well, elegantly told and atmospheric; but there is no sense that this is intended to be a 'true' history, and there is also a distance to this style of story that means we don't fully engage with the characters. So on one level there's not very much to it.
But - and it's a big but - that's really not the point. The key thing isn't the content of the tale but the structure, and here we have a delightful symmetry between the saga of Scheherazade, whose life depends on concluding every night's storytelling session with Shahriyar wanting more, and the TV show itself, ending each week's episode on a cliffhanger so that the audience will tune in again next time. In this it works wonderfully.
One of my other hobbies (abandoned for the moment because I can't keep up with everything) is Interactive Fiction, or "text adventures" as they are often known. My unfinished masterpiece is based on the 1001 Nights, and works with multiply nested levels of story; which ties nicely into my fascination with the question of what is reality.
A Confused Chronology, part 7: Continuity Clash? What's Continuity?
Of course, in this story we know the Doctor isn't real - he's an invention in a tale told by another fictional character. And this isn't the only tale to take this tack. I haven't heard it, but Big Finish's Doctor Who Unbound story Deadline is set in a world much like ours, except that the TV program was never made; and the (would-be) writer of the show is the main character.
This, of course, solves any continuity clash: if the Doctor is a figment of the imagination it's just a case of writers not caring, or not paying attention, or not having memorised every detail of the more than 2,500 stories that are about him. This is, of course, what happens in our world.
However it's also not really that satisfying as a general solution, like ending every story "and then I woke up" - good as a gimmick every once in a while (particularly if your name is Neil Gaiman and you're starting off a comic series about the Lord of Dreams), but used too often it becomes dull and drains the life from the tales.
Fortunately there's a middle ground. Stories don't have to come from nowhere (in fact they rarely do), and both reportage and dramatisation of real life events have a noble history. Perhaps what we see, hear and read are reports of his adventures prepared for our enjoyment? This actually happens in Light City in the rather wonderful The Natural History of Fear, and of course with the charming but unreliable narrator Elton from Love & Monsters. As a theory it not only explains continuity errors, but also gives us a reason for stories having such different moods (the two named above, for example). Give the same information to David Whitaker, Douglas Adams, and Eric Saward and you will end up with very different presentations!
If my marathon continues long enough, I will be returning to this idea and taking another look in roughly four seasons' time. For now, I'll just say that this is my emergency fallback position for when nothing better occurs to me.
Published:
Date: March 2000
ISBN: 0-563-55599-8
Rating:
6/10.
Next Time:
At last: the conclusion of Susan's Tale!
The framing sequence is simply a retelling of the archetype for all such sequences, A Thousand and One Nights, while the inner narrative is a fanciful version of the story of Susan and her Grandfather in the days before they left their homeworld. This is all very well, elegantly told and atmospheric; but there is no sense that this is intended to be a 'true' history, and there is also a distance to this style of story that means we don't fully engage with the characters. So on one level there's not very much to it.
But - and it's a big but - that's really not the point. The key thing isn't the content of the tale but the structure, and here we have a delightful symmetry between the saga of Scheherazade, whose life depends on concluding every night's storytelling session with Shahriyar wanting more, and the TV show itself, ending each week's episode on a cliffhanger so that the audience will tune in again next time. In this it works wonderfully.
One of my other hobbies (abandoned for the moment because I can't keep up with everything) is Interactive Fiction, or "text adventures" as they are often known. My unfinished masterpiece is based on the 1001 Nights, and works with multiply nested levels of story; which ties nicely into my fascination with the question of what is reality.
A Confused Chronology, part 7: Continuity Clash? What's Continuity?
Of course, in this story we know the Doctor isn't real - he's an invention in a tale told by another fictional character. And this isn't the only tale to take this tack. I haven't heard it, but Big Finish's Doctor Who Unbound story Deadline is set in a world much like ours, except that the TV program was never made; and the (would-be) writer of the show is the main character.
This, of course, solves any continuity clash: if the Doctor is a figment of the imagination it's just a case of writers not caring, or not paying attention, or not having memorised every detail of the more than 2,500 stories that are about him. This is, of course, what happens in our world.
However it's also not really that satisfying as a general solution, like ending every story "and then I woke up" - good as a gimmick every once in a while (particularly if your name is Neil Gaiman and you're starting off a comic series about the Lord of Dreams), but used too often it becomes dull and drains the life from the tales.
Fortunately there's a middle ground. Stories don't have to come from nowhere (in fact they rarely do), and both reportage and dramatisation of real life events have a noble history. Perhaps what we see, hear and read are reports of his adventures prepared for our enjoyment? This actually happens in Light City in the rather wonderful The Natural History of Fear, and of course with the charming but unreliable narrator Elton from Love & Monsters. As a theory it not only explains continuity errors, but also gives us a reason for stories having such different moods (the two named above, for example). Give the same information to David Whitaker, Douglas Adams, and Eric Saward and you will end up with very different presentations!
If my marathon continues long enough, I will be returning to this idea and taking another look in roughly four seasons' time. For now, I'll just say that this is my emergency fallback position for when nothing better occurs to me.
Published:
Date: March 2000
ISBN: 0-563-55599-8
Rating:
6/10.
Next Time:
At last: the conclusion of Susan's Tale!
Monday, 13 August 2012
Susan's Tale, Part 4b
She led us through the entrance her daughter had made, into a passage
that led steeply downward. I noticed the warriors stayed right by us.
The walls here were different, and I borrowed the match to take a closer
look. Holding it up I could see that the earth was covered with a thin
layer of a glistening, semi-transparent substance. One of the others
tapped me on the arm, and gave me a pale, glowing globe.
"Please use this light instead of your own? Its brightness pains us."
"Of course, of course," said Grandfather. He took the match and blew it out; I found I could actually see better. The light intensity was lower, but it was also more diffuse, allowing the eyes to adjust better. I could even make out the patterns on the carapace of the creature who had produced the globe - they were intricate, full of whorls and circles, and in an odd way they reminded me of home.
"Your markings are very beautiful," I said. He gave a little shake, possibly a sign of embarrassment.
"Thank you. They are very fresh because it is only two cycles since my change; I am the youngest in my patrol, apart from the excavators."
"Do you mean the children?" He nodded, a very human gesture. "I was wanting to ask about them. How do they make these tunnels?"
"How do you mean? In the usual way, of course. They pass the earth through their bodies where it is compacted and mixed with various secretions that harden as it is pressed against the walls, to stop it falling in again." I made a disgusted noise, and Grandfather chuckled; fortunately our companion didn't notice. "Here, of course, we are only making temporary passageways, so the excavators don't chew on the wood beforehand -"
"I knew it was paper!" I exclaimed. It was rather shrill; I hated that about my voice. Several guards turned to look, and I felt my face turning red. Not that anyone would see. Grandfather put an arm around me, gently. "I think we've reached our destination," he said, tactfully.
"I am called Chot," whispered my new friend; and then we were stepping out of the tunnel and into a chamber.
"This is one of our nurseries," said the matron. I could tell this, because there were hexagonal banks of racks on the walls, a bit like a beehive but more designed, somehow. There were also sculptures and bas-reliefs, and another group of the beetle people on guard. Only a few of the egg spaces were occupied, but it was obvious how much they had invested in their children, and I felt tears welling up at the thought of what they had been going through.
"We have to keep the children hidden as well as we can, so the nurseries are only connected to the main tunnel network temporarily, when we require access. It means that they do not get quite enough air, but the alternative is worse." She stamped her spear on the ground. "Yet still it is not enough! Somehow the killers always find their way in. We do not know what more we can do."
The talk of people wearing armour earlier had made me wonder if the attackers were advanced technologically, so I immediately thought of densitometers. They could have full, three-dimensional maps of the Nest; if so, all the hiding in the world would achieve nothing. Grandfather was wandering through the chamber, admiring the artwork; he didn't seem to have heard, though I knew he would have been listening carefully and would be formulating a plan. Still, the matron seemed to be waiting for a response, so I gulped back my tears.
"Have you thought about moving? Or digging deeper, so they can't get to you as easily?"
The matron shook her head. "The excavators cannot go any further down because the ground is too hard. And moving to a new Nest is out of the question. We can only go out at night, and are even more vulnerable on the surface." She sighed. "This was the perfect place, settled seventeen generations before me. It is an area rich in everything we need. We counted ourselves so lucky to be here."
"Until your kind came," interjected K'tak.
"Quite astonishing," said Grandfather. We all turned to stare at him; he was admiring one of the statues. After a moment he looked up as if surprised by the attention, though he didn't fool me for a moment.
"This carving is made by your excavators, correct?" I hadn't realised because I had been concentrating on other things; now, looking closer, I could see it was like papier-mâché, the same substance as the walls. It was finely detailed.
The matron was nodding. "All our artists are from the excavator phase," she said, "but what has this to do with our problem?"
"Hm? Nothing, probably nothing. It's just - well, never mind." He stood up straight. "The solution to your problem is simple. Susan and I must return to the surface, contact your enemies, and make them see the error of their ways. Hopefully they will listen to us as beings of similar form; and if they do not - well, then I shall just have to improvise, shan't I?"
"Matron," said K'tak, "do not listen to them! They will betray us at the first opportunity!"
"How can they betray us, K'tak? Their people always find the nurseries anyway, so what can they say that can possibly make anything any worse for us? No, it is time to take a chance; and I believe these two are our best opportunity."
Grandfather bowed again. "Madam, I thank you for your trust. May I take a small carving, perhaps this one?" He indicated a six-inch high model in one of the egg spaces. The matron nodded her assent. "Then I believe it is time to go."
A small group assembled: the matron, K'tak, Chot, two other guards, one excavator, Grandfather, and myself. We were just about to leave when there was another earth tremor.
"Softening us up," muttered Grandfather. We waited until everything was still then set off down the tunnel, the excavator sealing it shut behind us. Chot positioned himself beside me.
"Tell me what it is like living on the surface?"
I thought for a moment. How could I explain it to someone who couldn't even stand to be in daylight? "Well, Chot, we are travellers, and we see all kinds of different places. Some are brighter than you could imagine, some are darker than this tunnel; some are full of life, while some are completely barren. It just depends where we happen to end up."
"But which one is your home?"
"My original home is a long way away, and I don't suppose I'll ever see it again. But I've made a home in the TARDIS."
"TARDIS?"
"Our ship. It looks like a box from the outside but it's really very comfortable with plenty of space for all of us."
"So it is like a Nest?"
I thought about this, and smiled. "I suppose it is, in a way."
He nodded. "Then you are not so different, really."
The conversation continued, and it wasn't too long before we reached the highest levels. Then the rumbling began again, but this time the ground shook more violently. Grandfather and I dropped onto our hands and knees; most of the Nest people did the equivalent, though they seemed more comfortable than we on all fours. Then the roof came down in front of us, landing on top of the matron, who screamed once, then went silent. A group of about half a dozen armoured humanoids clambered down through the opening.
In the sudden light of day K'tak turned and glared at us. "I knew it! You have betrayed us, and now the matron is dead! I will kill you for that!" He leaped towards us, spear at the ready...
Oh, look at you - you're almost asleep, aren't you? Don't worry, I'll tell you what happened with the people of the Nest another day, how Grandfather and I finally met up with Ian and Barbara again; but we've gone past the part of the tale that made the biggest impression on me, that my mind hooked onto in its delirious state. There's only a little more I want to say for now. it won't take long.
Next Time:
A side trip to examine The Longest Story in the World...
"Please use this light instead of your own? Its brightness pains us."
"Of course, of course," said Grandfather. He took the match and blew it out; I found I could actually see better. The light intensity was lower, but it was also more diffuse, allowing the eyes to adjust better. I could even make out the patterns on the carapace of the creature who had produced the globe - they were intricate, full of whorls and circles, and in an odd way they reminded me of home.
"Your markings are very beautiful," I said. He gave a little shake, possibly a sign of embarrassment.
"Thank you. They are very fresh because it is only two cycles since my change; I am the youngest in my patrol, apart from the excavators."
"Do you mean the children?" He nodded, a very human gesture. "I was wanting to ask about them. How do they make these tunnels?"
"How do you mean? In the usual way, of course. They pass the earth through their bodies where it is compacted and mixed with various secretions that harden as it is pressed against the walls, to stop it falling in again." I made a disgusted noise, and Grandfather chuckled; fortunately our companion didn't notice. "Here, of course, we are only making temporary passageways, so the excavators don't chew on the wood beforehand -"
"I knew it was paper!" I exclaimed. It was rather shrill; I hated that about my voice. Several guards turned to look, and I felt my face turning red. Not that anyone would see. Grandfather put an arm around me, gently. "I think we've reached our destination," he said, tactfully.
"I am called Chot," whispered my new friend; and then we were stepping out of the tunnel and into a chamber.
"This is one of our nurseries," said the matron. I could tell this, because there were hexagonal banks of racks on the walls, a bit like a beehive but more designed, somehow. There were also sculptures and bas-reliefs, and another group of the beetle people on guard. Only a few of the egg spaces were occupied, but it was obvious how much they had invested in their children, and I felt tears welling up at the thought of what they had been going through.
"We have to keep the children hidden as well as we can, so the nurseries are only connected to the main tunnel network temporarily, when we require access. It means that they do not get quite enough air, but the alternative is worse." She stamped her spear on the ground. "Yet still it is not enough! Somehow the killers always find their way in. We do not know what more we can do."
The talk of people wearing armour earlier had made me wonder if the attackers were advanced technologically, so I immediately thought of densitometers. They could have full, three-dimensional maps of the Nest; if so, all the hiding in the world would achieve nothing. Grandfather was wandering through the chamber, admiring the artwork; he didn't seem to have heard, though I knew he would have been listening carefully and would be formulating a plan. Still, the matron seemed to be waiting for a response, so I gulped back my tears.
"Have you thought about moving? Or digging deeper, so they can't get to you as easily?"
The matron shook her head. "The excavators cannot go any further down because the ground is too hard. And moving to a new Nest is out of the question. We can only go out at night, and are even more vulnerable on the surface." She sighed. "This was the perfect place, settled seventeen generations before me. It is an area rich in everything we need. We counted ourselves so lucky to be here."
"Until your kind came," interjected K'tak.
"Quite astonishing," said Grandfather. We all turned to stare at him; he was admiring one of the statues. After a moment he looked up as if surprised by the attention, though he didn't fool me for a moment.
"This carving is made by your excavators, correct?" I hadn't realised because I had been concentrating on other things; now, looking closer, I could see it was like papier-mâché, the same substance as the walls. It was finely detailed.
The matron was nodding. "All our artists are from the excavator phase," she said, "but what has this to do with our problem?"
"Hm? Nothing, probably nothing. It's just - well, never mind." He stood up straight. "The solution to your problem is simple. Susan and I must return to the surface, contact your enemies, and make them see the error of their ways. Hopefully they will listen to us as beings of similar form; and if they do not - well, then I shall just have to improvise, shan't I?"
"Matron," said K'tak, "do not listen to them! They will betray us at the first opportunity!"
"How can they betray us, K'tak? Their people always find the nurseries anyway, so what can they say that can possibly make anything any worse for us? No, it is time to take a chance; and I believe these two are our best opportunity."
Grandfather bowed again. "Madam, I thank you for your trust. May I take a small carving, perhaps this one?" He indicated a six-inch high model in one of the egg spaces. The matron nodded her assent. "Then I believe it is time to go."
A small group assembled: the matron, K'tak, Chot, two other guards, one excavator, Grandfather, and myself. We were just about to leave when there was another earth tremor.
"Softening us up," muttered Grandfather. We waited until everything was still then set off down the tunnel, the excavator sealing it shut behind us. Chot positioned himself beside me.
"Tell me what it is like living on the surface?"
I thought for a moment. How could I explain it to someone who couldn't even stand to be in daylight? "Well, Chot, we are travellers, and we see all kinds of different places. Some are brighter than you could imagine, some are darker than this tunnel; some are full of life, while some are completely barren. It just depends where we happen to end up."
"But which one is your home?"
"My original home is a long way away, and I don't suppose I'll ever see it again. But I've made a home in the TARDIS."
"TARDIS?"
"Our ship. It looks like a box from the outside but it's really very comfortable with plenty of space for all of us."
"So it is like a Nest?"
I thought about this, and smiled. "I suppose it is, in a way."
He nodded. "Then you are not so different, really."
The conversation continued, and it wasn't too long before we reached the highest levels. Then the rumbling began again, but this time the ground shook more violently. Grandfather and I dropped onto our hands and knees; most of the Nest people did the equivalent, though they seemed more comfortable than we on all fours. Then the roof came down in front of us, landing on top of the matron, who screamed once, then went silent. A group of about half a dozen armoured humanoids clambered down through the opening.
In the sudden light of day K'tak turned and glared at us. "I knew it! You have betrayed us, and now the matron is dead! I will kill you for that!" He leaped towards us, spear at the ready...
Oh, look at you - you're almost asleep, aren't you? Don't worry, I'll tell you what happened with the people of the Nest another day, how Grandfather and I finally met up with Ian and Barbara again; but we've gone past the part of the tale that made the biggest impression on me, that my mind hooked onto in its delirious state. There's only a little more I want to say for now. it won't take long.
Next Time:
A side trip to examine The Longest Story in the World...
Wednesday, 8 August 2012
Susan's Tale, Part 4a
I've got about three quarters of the way through writing this part,
and rather than keep people waiting any longer I decided to split it
at a close-to-halfway point. Hopefully the rest will follow on or
before Monday.
Since it's been a while, here are links to the previous instalments: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Susan's Tale, Part 4
The thing that appeared through the wall was hideous, insectlike, with bits of earth and tunnel lining dripping from its mouth. It's strange what comes into your mind at such times. Although I was both startled and scared I found myself thinking of my comparative anatomy lessons, remembering that arthropoid mouth parts were made from a collection of small modified limbs. I stood staring at the face. My perception adjusted itself and I was no longer looking at a monster but a fascinating alien being, slightly furred, with huge eyes covering most of its head and intricate, waving feelers. I wished the light was better so that I could pick out more of the detail.
It took Grandfather anxiously calling my name to break the spell. By that time my initial panic had faded and I could take in more of what was going on. The creature wasn't quite as big as I'd thought - it had broken through high up, which gave the impression of height, but the head was not much more than a foot across. It was also waiting, not advancing further. I wondered why, when I heard a noise behind me and realised a second creature was coming through the other wall. I shrieked again - I was more easily startled in those days - and Grandfather and I backed down the tunnel as two groups of figures pushed their way out of the new openings and advanced on us. We turned to run - and found a third group waiting.
These were also arthropoid, but different from the tunnel diggers. They had hard outer casings, somewhat like Earth beetles, but only four limbs. Some of them were standing on the hind pair, holding finely-crafted spears; others were down on all fours. They had us surrounded.
One from the original hole called out to the third group. "Where are the rest of the invaders?" The voice as I heard it was female, commanding, slightly nasal; but I could also hear the series of clicks that was presumably their natural language.
"I don't know, matron." This was a male. "The vibrations were quite faint - maybe they were separated from the others of their hunting party?"
The matron shook a spear, angrily. "In which case our trap has failed. Their kin could be slaughtering our children in another part of the Nest right now!"
Grandfather stepped forward, drawing himself upright. "If I might set your mind at ease, madam, we are not-"
He paused. The creatures had all stepped back, surprised, and several weapons were pointed in his direction. The matron stepped right up to him. "How is it that you speak?"
Grandfather looked flustered. "Well, ah, I am a man of science, and I make it my business to understand all the peoples of the universe. Yes, to converse with each and every one of you! And to that end, I am a student of language, as I am of many things."
He bowed; I smiled. Grandfather often took it upon himself to bend the truth a little; sometimes it helped, sometimes it just got us into worse trouble.
The matron seemed uncertain, and the male she had spoken to before scurried up. "It could be a trap," he said.
"I don't know, K'tak. Look at their shells - they are soft and thin, not at all like the others'. We could kill these creatures with a single spear thrust."
"Then let us do so! We should end their noise and get back to tracking vibrations before the next real attack." I clutched Grandfather's arm, unsure whether to say anything or not. He made a gesture for me to wait.
K'tak started to speak again, but the matron clicked him to silence. Like Grandfather, She was taking time to things through carefully.
"Your suggestion is prudent, K'tak." I tensed, drawing in breath, but she hadn't finished speaking. "Nevertheless, I see here an opportunity for change. Every season, the unchanging ones come. They shake the ground, breaking the Nest. They hunt down our babies, slaughter them and carry off their carcases, leaving us barely enough to rebuild. We have grown better at fighting back, and we have managed to kill a few of them - but what good is that? Does it stop them coming? Does it bring our lost children back? No, this is the first time in many cycles that something new has happened. If it is a trick, we must learn why they have done it; and if not, maybe these can help us to understand their brethren."
Grandfather was listening, waiting for the right moment to interject. He was the negotiator, and normally I would have followed his lead; but he was also injured, tired, and - I had to admit it - getting old. My own self-confidence ebbed and flowed with the hormones running through my body; today I was feeling "bolshy", as Ian had occasionally said, and I felt the time had come. I let the emotions the matron's speech had stirred up come to the fore, and stepped forward.
"Of course we'll help you! It's horrible what's being done to your people!"
"Hush, child," said Grandfather, putting his hand on my shoulder; and the matron craned towards us, her nose coming within an inch of my own.
"'Child?' This one is a youngling? Then what is its purpose here?"
"I was trying to save Grandfather from falling, but I couldn't hold his weight and came down with him." It didn't sound too impressive.
"Remember that they are unchanging ones," put in K'tak. "They only differ in size as they grow, and see how much smaller it is than the white-topped one."
"Yes, but we haven't seen them with their young before. It seems they, too, have familial bonds."
"It is all lies! They are deceiving us, and must be killed!"
"Who is matron here, K'tak? I have borne four clutches for the Nest, and lost almost all. Only my youngest daughter remains." To my surprise, she reached up and gently stroked the face of the creature that had first broken through into the tunnel. Then she turned to us. "I will show you how we live here. If you truly wish to help us, you shall get your chance."
Next Time:
More of the same...
Since it's been a while, here are links to the previous instalments: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Susan's Tale, Part 4
The thing that appeared through the wall was hideous, insectlike, with bits of earth and tunnel lining dripping from its mouth. It's strange what comes into your mind at such times. Although I was both startled and scared I found myself thinking of my comparative anatomy lessons, remembering that arthropoid mouth parts were made from a collection of small modified limbs. I stood staring at the face. My perception adjusted itself and I was no longer looking at a monster but a fascinating alien being, slightly furred, with huge eyes covering most of its head and intricate, waving feelers. I wished the light was better so that I could pick out more of the detail.
It took Grandfather anxiously calling my name to break the spell. By that time my initial panic had faded and I could take in more of what was going on. The creature wasn't quite as big as I'd thought - it had broken through high up, which gave the impression of height, but the head was not much more than a foot across. It was also waiting, not advancing further. I wondered why, when I heard a noise behind me and realised a second creature was coming through the other wall. I shrieked again - I was more easily startled in those days - and Grandfather and I backed down the tunnel as two groups of figures pushed their way out of the new openings and advanced on us. We turned to run - and found a third group waiting.
These were also arthropoid, but different from the tunnel diggers. They had hard outer casings, somewhat like Earth beetles, but only four limbs. Some of them were standing on the hind pair, holding finely-crafted spears; others were down on all fours. They had us surrounded.
One from the original hole called out to the third group. "Where are the rest of the invaders?" The voice as I heard it was female, commanding, slightly nasal; but I could also hear the series of clicks that was presumably their natural language.
"I don't know, matron." This was a male. "The vibrations were quite faint - maybe they were separated from the others of their hunting party?"
The matron shook a spear, angrily. "In which case our trap has failed. Their kin could be slaughtering our children in another part of the Nest right now!"
Grandfather stepped forward, drawing himself upright. "If I might set your mind at ease, madam, we are not-"
He paused. The creatures had all stepped back, surprised, and several weapons were pointed in his direction. The matron stepped right up to him. "How is it that you speak?"
Grandfather looked flustered. "Well, ah, I am a man of science, and I make it my business to understand all the peoples of the universe. Yes, to converse with each and every one of you! And to that end, I am a student of language, as I am of many things."
He bowed; I smiled. Grandfather often took it upon himself to bend the truth a little; sometimes it helped, sometimes it just got us into worse trouble.
The matron seemed uncertain, and the male she had spoken to before scurried up. "It could be a trap," he said.
"I don't know, K'tak. Look at their shells - they are soft and thin, not at all like the others'. We could kill these creatures with a single spear thrust."
"Then let us do so! We should end their noise and get back to tracking vibrations before the next real attack." I clutched Grandfather's arm, unsure whether to say anything or not. He made a gesture for me to wait.
K'tak started to speak again, but the matron clicked him to silence. Like Grandfather, She was taking time to things through carefully.
"Your suggestion is prudent, K'tak." I tensed, drawing in breath, but she hadn't finished speaking. "Nevertheless, I see here an opportunity for change. Every season, the unchanging ones come. They shake the ground, breaking the Nest. They hunt down our babies, slaughter them and carry off their carcases, leaving us barely enough to rebuild. We have grown better at fighting back, and we have managed to kill a few of them - but what good is that? Does it stop them coming? Does it bring our lost children back? No, this is the first time in many cycles that something new has happened. If it is a trick, we must learn why they have done it; and if not, maybe these can help us to understand their brethren."
Grandfather was listening, waiting for the right moment to interject. He was the negotiator, and normally I would have followed his lead; but he was also injured, tired, and - I had to admit it - getting old. My own self-confidence ebbed and flowed with the hormones running through my body; today I was feeling "bolshy", as Ian had occasionally said, and I felt the time had come. I let the emotions the matron's speech had stirred up come to the fore, and stepped forward.
"Of course we'll help you! It's horrible what's being done to your people!"
"Hush, child," said Grandfather, putting his hand on my shoulder; and the matron craned towards us, her nose coming within an inch of my own.
"'Child?' This one is a youngling? Then what is its purpose here?"
"I was trying to save Grandfather from falling, but I couldn't hold his weight and came down with him." It didn't sound too impressive.
"Remember that they are unchanging ones," put in K'tak. "They only differ in size as they grow, and see how much smaller it is than the white-topped one."
"Yes, but we haven't seen them with their young before. It seems they, too, have familial bonds."
"It is all lies! They are deceiving us, and must be killed!"
"Who is matron here, K'tak? I have borne four clutches for the Nest, and lost almost all. Only my youngest daughter remains." To my surprise, she reached up and gently stroked the face of the creature that had first broken through into the tunnel. Then she turned to us. "I will show you how we live here. If you truly wish to help us, you shall get your chance."
Next Time:
More of the same...
Monday, 6 August 2012
Short Trips, Farewells 19.01: The Mother Road, by Gareth Wigmore
All the stories I've reviewed so far have been (broadly) in sequence, except for those set before An Unearthly Child.
I always knew this couldn't continue forever, and wondered what it
would be like to revisit a period I'd covered earlier in my marathon. My
best guess for when this would happen was whenever I got around to
buying The Wanderer, but a comment I left regarding bethhigdon's Timelines review of The Mother Road prompted Ian Potter to lend me this book too.
It's strange. This story is set between The Aztecs and The Sensorites, not that long ago, but I've already lost a sense of how well it fits the period. Coming as it does after the TARDIS crew has settled in and before the Doctor's flare-up at the end of the next televised story I think it's a good match; but this is an intellectual calculation rather than gut feeling.
Speaking of gut feeling, my heart sank a little when I saw the author's name. I remembered disliking something by Gareth Wigmore before, though I couldn't recall what it was - so I looked it up. And felt a certain relief. My problem with Mire and Clay wasn't to do with the writing but the subject matter, and from what I remembered of bethhigdon's review this story was very unlikely to hit the same problem.
Indeed, it doesn't. This is a lovely little tale, not really an adventure at all - except in the way that normal people not hit by crises have adventures, for example when taking an extra-special holiday. Which this is, really, for all of the TARDIS crew, as they make their way across the USA along Route 66. They even sing the song! (As an aside, I don't remember any of the lyrics to that, but can manage about half of Billy Bragg's A13.)
This is an almost picaresque character piece that perfectly captures the crew in a quieter moment. The Doctor is at his most roguelike, having lost the TARDIS in a game of chance, again; Susan is in early teenage mode. The focus is on Iananbarbara, though, so this is quite an appropriate point to look at it - and in tone it's similar to Set in Stone. Hey, they even have a version of that conversation again! It's a bit different, though, since they are in their own future (2006), and thus the reasons for not jumping ship are different. It can stay.
In some ways this is not a very Hartnell-era story. There are lots of real-world 21st century details, and if I had been told about this in advance I would have said that it was a bad idea - but it works. Perhaps it's that the people are indulging in a peculiarly 20th Century activity, even though it's set later? Interestingly, I pictured the story in colour, which rarely happens with this TARDIS team.
There are so many great scenes here: Iananbarbara by the pool (just sweet), the Doctor telling a morally uplifting story to children (an in-universe expression of the Reithian vision of combined education and entertainment), the opening and closing scenes (particularly in what they tell us about the Doctor), the frozen custard one... Every moment of characterisation is spot on. Susan even makes a comment about Iananbarbara's pussyfooting around their feelings that echoes one of my own in Susan's Tale, which is nice.
I've said quite a bit about what I like in this story, but nothing so far about negatives. I've not given it 10/10, so there must be some, surely? Well... sort of. This story is not designed to be substantial, or exciting, or important; it's the kind of thing you read while dozing by the side of a pool in the California sunshine, or lying on the deck of a cruise ship. Not that I've done either of those, but really, any lazy Summer afternoon fits the bill. I wouldn't change it in any way (well, maybe the name of the eBay stand-in), but I also can't put it up there at the peak. Don't let this put you off, though - sit back with a cooling drink and read.
Oh, no, wait - there is one thing. It's link to the anthology theme of 'farewells' is exceedingly tenuous, basically a conversation between the Doctor and Susan about how they can never go home again that is only one thread of a much broader tapestry. But I don't mark it down for that!
Published:
Date: April 2006
ISBN: 1-84435-151-3
Rating:
9/10.
Next Time:
Surely it has to be the penultimate part of Susan's Tale this time?
It's strange. This story is set between The Aztecs and The Sensorites, not that long ago, but I've already lost a sense of how well it fits the period. Coming as it does after the TARDIS crew has settled in and before the Doctor's flare-up at the end of the next televised story I think it's a good match; but this is an intellectual calculation rather than gut feeling.
Speaking of gut feeling, my heart sank a little when I saw the author's name. I remembered disliking something by Gareth Wigmore before, though I couldn't recall what it was - so I looked it up. And felt a certain relief. My problem with Mire and Clay wasn't to do with the writing but the subject matter, and from what I remembered of bethhigdon's review this story was very unlikely to hit the same problem.
Indeed, it doesn't. This is a lovely little tale, not really an adventure at all - except in the way that normal people not hit by crises have adventures, for example when taking an extra-special holiday. Which this is, really, for all of the TARDIS crew, as they make their way across the USA along Route 66. They even sing the song! (As an aside, I don't remember any of the lyrics to that, but can manage about half of Billy Bragg's A13.)
This is an almost picaresque character piece that perfectly captures the crew in a quieter moment. The Doctor is at his most roguelike, having lost the TARDIS in a game of chance, again; Susan is in early teenage mode. The focus is on Iananbarbara, though, so this is quite an appropriate point to look at it - and in tone it's similar to Set in Stone. Hey, they even have a version of that conversation again! It's a bit different, though, since they are in their own future (2006), and thus the reasons for not jumping ship are different. It can stay.
In some ways this is not a very Hartnell-era story. There are lots of real-world 21st century details, and if I had been told about this in advance I would have said that it was a bad idea - but it works. Perhaps it's that the people are indulging in a peculiarly 20th Century activity, even though it's set later? Interestingly, I pictured the story in colour, which rarely happens with this TARDIS team.
There are so many great scenes here: Iananbarbara by the pool (just sweet), the Doctor telling a morally uplifting story to children (an in-universe expression of the Reithian vision of combined education and entertainment), the opening and closing scenes (particularly in what they tell us about the Doctor), the frozen custard one... Every moment of characterisation is spot on. Susan even makes a comment about Iananbarbara's pussyfooting around their feelings that echoes one of my own in Susan's Tale, which is nice.
I've said quite a bit about what I like in this story, but nothing so far about negatives. I've not given it 10/10, so there must be some, surely? Well... sort of. This story is not designed to be substantial, or exciting, or important; it's the kind of thing you read while dozing by the side of a pool in the California sunshine, or lying on the deck of a cruise ship. Not that I've done either of those, but really, any lazy Summer afternoon fits the bill. I wouldn't change it in any way (well, maybe the name of the eBay stand-in), but I also can't put it up there at the peak. Don't let this put you off, though - sit back with a cooling drink and read.
Oh, no, wait - there is one thing. It's link to the anthology theme of 'farewells' is exceedingly tenuous, basically a conversation between the Doctor and Susan about how they can never go home again that is only one thread of a much broader tapestry. But I don't mark it down for that!
Published:
Date: April 2006
ISBN: 1-84435-151-3
Rating:
9/10.
Next Time:
Surely it has to be the penultimate part of Susan's Tale this time?
Thursday, 2 August 2012
The Post-Susan Gap Period
Before I leave this section of the marathon, I want to carry on with the chronological issue raised in the aftermath of The Revenants. I originally wrote this before I got a chance to read Set in Stone, so I've had to do some editing; please excuse any archaeological remnants of the first draft.
A Confused Chronology, part 7: Mind the Gap Redux
I'd like to try and fit everything I can from the gap into a coherent order. Be warned: this section contains spoilers for the stories I've reviewed...
Let's start with the easy ones:
1. Venusian Lullaby
2. The Book of Shadows
The first really has to follow straight on from Flashpoint, in the same way that The Time Travellers has to follow on from Crisis; and at the end of the book the Doctor both states his intention of going to the setting of The Book of Shadows and has the information to do so. The events of that story mess about with the timestream, though, so it makes sense that things go somewhat awry after that...
3. The Nine-Day Queen
...coupled with the creature that invades the TARDIS, necessitating an emergency landing.
4. The True and Indisputable Facts in the Matter of the Ram's Skull
5. Set in Stone
I've put these two in this order just because it means that the Doctor is getting them nearer to 1963. There is also the issue of Iananbarbara being comfortable in the TARDIS at the end of this; but it seems reasonable to say that although they are content, they would still prefer to get home!
6. The Revenants
This is fairly explicitly set up to be the last adventure before The Powerful Enemy (see Ian Potter's blog entry); I've bent the rules of my marathon now to rewatch the first TARDIS scene, and think that the writer's done a good job (if you accept the existence of any of these stories, that is).
My current, best avoidance of the problem with repeating the "nearly home" discussion is based on the fact that this is a story told by Ian. He's using dramatic license: the debate this time around would have been perfunctory and go something like, "We've talked about this before - changed your mind?" "Nah." "Me neither." But it wouldn't have worked for Jeannie, and by that point in the conversation he's learned his lesson after nearly getting sidetracked into talking about The Aztecs, so he just includes the fuller version from a previous adventure.
I am also happy to accept that the TARDIS is now so far from primeval Venus, and so battered by temporal events, that the Doctor has to give up on using the Venusian formula. Which leads to my next suggestion:
7. A Long Night
The second production run seems to me to have Iananbarbara less worried about getting home. I see now that part of this comes from the events of Set in Stone, and this probably helped when the Doctor admitted he really couldn't make the Venusian formula work straight after The Wissfornjarl. I reckon that the TARDIS crew could all have got some sleep then, and that the events of A Long Night probably reassured Barbara as well as Joan - though more talk of telepathy and family would have done nothing to ease the Doctor's renewed sense of loss, so it's not surprising that when he next woke he had Susan on his mind.
So, what of the subjects of my other two reviews? The only way Fast Return could be made to fit, occupying as it does the same space as Venusian Lullaby, would be to insert it in chapter one after Iananbarbara's dinner date and before the bit about the neutronium counter. I'd rather not, because it makes one of the things Barbara says particularly crass, but if you insist. Similarly, the Give-a-Show slides could be put in anywhere between The Nine-Day Queen and The Revenants; but it really belongs in a different continuity.
That really should be it, and I should be moving straight on to tackle Vicki's arrival; but I'm going to put it off a little longer. As mentioned last time I have a couple of stories to review out-of-order, and I also want to finish Susan's Tale.
Next Time:
The Mother Road, or the penultimate part of Susan's Tale...
A Confused Chronology, part 7: Mind the Gap Redux
I'd like to try and fit everything I can from the gap into a coherent order. Be warned: this section contains spoilers for the stories I've reviewed...
Let's start with the easy ones:
1. Venusian Lullaby
2. The Book of Shadows
The first really has to follow straight on from Flashpoint, in the same way that The Time Travellers has to follow on from Crisis; and at the end of the book the Doctor both states his intention of going to the setting of The Book of Shadows and has the information to do so. The events of that story mess about with the timestream, though, so it makes sense that things go somewhat awry after that...
3. The Nine-Day Queen
...coupled with the creature that invades the TARDIS, necessitating an emergency landing.
4. The True and Indisputable Facts in the Matter of the Ram's Skull
5. Set in Stone
I've put these two in this order just because it means that the Doctor is getting them nearer to 1963. There is also the issue of Iananbarbara being comfortable in the TARDIS at the end of this; but it seems reasonable to say that although they are content, they would still prefer to get home!
6. The Revenants
This is fairly explicitly set up to be the last adventure before The Powerful Enemy (see Ian Potter's blog entry); I've bent the rules of my marathon now to rewatch the first TARDIS scene, and think that the writer's done a good job (if you accept the existence of any of these stories, that is).
My current, best avoidance of the problem with repeating the "nearly home" discussion is based on the fact that this is a story told by Ian. He's using dramatic license: the debate this time around would have been perfunctory and go something like, "We've talked about this before - changed your mind?" "Nah." "Me neither." But it wouldn't have worked for Jeannie, and by that point in the conversation he's learned his lesson after nearly getting sidetracked into talking about The Aztecs, so he just includes the fuller version from a previous adventure.
I am also happy to accept that the TARDIS is now so far from primeval Venus, and so battered by temporal events, that the Doctor has to give up on using the Venusian formula. Which leads to my next suggestion:
7. A Long Night
The second production run seems to me to have Iananbarbara less worried about getting home. I see now that part of this comes from the events of Set in Stone, and this probably helped when the Doctor admitted he really couldn't make the Venusian formula work straight after The Wissfornjarl. I reckon that the TARDIS crew could all have got some sleep then, and that the events of A Long Night probably reassured Barbara as well as Joan - though more talk of telepathy and family would have done nothing to ease the Doctor's renewed sense of loss, so it's not surprising that when he next woke he had Susan on his mind.
So, what of the subjects of my other two reviews? The only way Fast Return could be made to fit, occupying as it does the same space as Venusian Lullaby, would be to insert it in chapter one after Iananbarbara's dinner date and before the bit about the neutronium counter. I'd rather not, because it makes one of the things Barbara says particularly crass, but if you insist. Similarly, the Give-a-Show slides could be put in anywhere between The Nine-Day Queen and The Revenants; but it really belongs in a different continuity.
That really should be it, and I should be moving straight on to tackle Vicki's arrival; but I'm going to put it off a little longer. As mentioned last time I have a couple of stories to review out-of-order, and I also want to finish Susan's Tale.
Next Time:
The Mother Road, or the penultimate part of Susan's Tale...
Tuesday, 31 July 2012
Short Trips, The History of Christmas 18.05: Set in Stone, by Charles Auchterlonie and John Isles
I wasn't able to come to this completely fresh, having read the article on The Doctor Who Reference Guide,
and I wondered how that would affect my reading; but really it just
puts me in the same position as I am for most of the TV serials I missed
first time round. And actually, with this particular story the 400-word
summary only really spoiled one mystery: what the Doctor wanted with
the Stone of Scone. I suspect foreknowledge would damage A Long Night more.
This story is made up of the good, the bad, and the awkward, and they are somewhat intertwined. Let's start with the basics. The cast sound right; I can easily picture them saying the lines they are given. On the other hand, there is a clumsiness to the prose that means I can't really enjoy it just for the flow of words. To take an example from the first page, the writers say
Still, this wasn't enough to spoil the story for me. Other aspects of the writer's craft are well-handled - take, for instance, the imagery. Auchterlonie and Isles have managed to produce something very visual, with a high concentration of scenes memorable for the pictures they conjured up in my mind. I'm particularly fond of the TARDIS crew driving North from London in a borrowed van, and a scene in the ship at the end which links to Logopolis, 16 years in the series' future. The plot holds no real peril (unless you include the danger of them being "found out" by police who stop to help them change a tyre), but this works - the story is never boring.
Less successful is the way the history is tied in with the characters. Ian is surprised by how cheap things are in 1950, and he and Barbara discuss whether they are really suited to the time, with food rationing still on. Hang on - they were both in their 20s (or at a stretch, very late teens for Barbara) in 1950 the first time around! Their thoughts and discussion should take a different form, such as "do we really want to go through this again?"
Similarly, the Doctor doesn't act like he should at this point. He's too proactive, spending a lot of energy and time on an issue he could, in theory, have ignored. Now, I would say that this is fallout from when he came up against a problem he couldn't leave alone in The Time Travellers, that those events changed him; but really I see no other evidence for such an interpretation. He also whips up an antigravity device for moving the stone that seems more appropriate for later incarnations, leading to a passage highly reminiscent of Remembrance of the Daleks.
And this is a great example of why I say the good, bad and awkward are all jumbled up. We have here strong imagery, but it's the wrong imagery, and it raises questions I don't want to be asking right now. Our heroes' theft of the stone is beautifully handled - but what happened to the students who admitted to the crime? Do they exist in this version of history, and if so were they lying? Are the references to the program's future just nods for the fans, or something more? How does it all fit in with the wider Whoniverse?
And since I've asked that question...
A Confused Chronology, part 6: The Closest We've Ever Been to Our Own Time and Place
As mentioned in a previous post, Iananbarbara discuss staying on - since they are the closest they've ever been to their own time and place. Which is odd; it's quite possible they don't think that Planet of Giants counts because of the size difference, but Kilmartin in 1950 is further away than Bristol in 1954, which they visited while still travelling with Susan, during The Witch Hunters.
Or did they? So far as I can tell this story only references the TV show, and (with the caveat above) the statement here makes sense in a Whoniverse consisting only of TV serials plus Set in Stone. Which isn't quite as crazy as it sounds when you consider that Gary Russell went to some lengths to demonstrate that the audios, novels, and comics existed in different continuities. Still, it's not a particularly satisfying answer to a continuity fetishist like me.
A single timestream with both discussions is never going to work, unless you posit an unpublished story in between during which their memories get wiped or some such, and even then you run into similar difficulties reconciling it with The Revenants (set in 1956). If you place that one last the repeated discussion is at least accurate, but I would still find it odd that it's so similar in the three cases; and the fact that Iananbarbara are calm, contented, and at home in the TARDIS at the end of Set in Stone makes their eagerness to leave when they reach Orkney unlikely. Swap the order and you run into other difficulties. What to do, then? I can see a couple of possibilities:
(a) Don't Worry About It.
This is the simplest solution: ignore the contradictions, or if you can't do that, mentally edit the stories until they fit.
(b) A Quantum Superposition of Stories.
Quantum's always a good word to use in technobabble; there's a sense in popular culture that even the scientists who work with it don't really understand it, and as a result it can do anything. It even has a 'many worlds' interpretation, which sounds like just what we need here.
In brief, the idea behind quantum superposition is that a system which can exist in a number of different states actually does exist partly in all of them simultaneously - until we examine it, when measurement will give us a single, concrete result. We can do something analogous for Doctor Who stories: they all exist, contradictions and all, until we experience one - when that becomes "fact", potentially excluding others. The analogy falls down if we then go and read, watch or listen to one of those excluded stories, but not if we allow crosstime slippage: we are effectively shifting into an overlapping, parallel continuity.
Rubbish? Maybe, but admit it - it's fun, isn't it?
I'm going to do a couple more timeslip entries before leaving Susan behind altogether, and I'll discuss another theory when I tackle The Longest Story in the World. For now, though, this has got far too long and I'm shutting up.
Published:
Date: December 2005
ISBN: 1-84435-149-1
Rating:
4/10.
Next Time:
It probably will be a look at the post-Susan gap period overall. But you never know.
This story is made up of the good, the bad, and the awkward, and they are somewhat intertwined. Let's start with the basics. The cast sound right; I can easily picture them saying the lines they are given. On the other hand, there is a clumsiness to the prose that means I can't really enjoy it just for the flow of words. To take an example from the first page, the writers say
"It was too dark to make out his face, but [Barbara] could imagine the look of irritation leaving his usually wise, knowledgeable features to be replaced by a manic grin."Then, in the next paragraph:
"She couldn't make out [Ian's] face in the poor light either, but she could easily picture his clean-cut appearance being ruffled by what the Doctor was proposing."These are not quite close enough in structure to work as a deliberate repetition, but too close for anything else. And the choice of words is... well, perhaps "inelegant" would be most appropriate.
Still, this wasn't enough to spoil the story for me. Other aspects of the writer's craft are well-handled - take, for instance, the imagery. Auchterlonie and Isles have managed to produce something very visual, with a high concentration of scenes memorable for the pictures they conjured up in my mind. I'm particularly fond of the TARDIS crew driving North from London in a borrowed van, and a scene in the ship at the end which links to Logopolis, 16 years in the series' future. The plot holds no real peril (unless you include the danger of them being "found out" by police who stop to help them change a tyre), but this works - the story is never boring.
Less successful is the way the history is tied in with the characters. Ian is surprised by how cheap things are in 1950, and he and Barbara discuss whether they are really suited to the time, with food rationing still on. Hang on - they were both in their 20s (or at a stretch, very late teens for Barbara) in 1950 the first time around! Their thoughts and discussion should take a different form, such as "do we really want to go through this again?"
Similarly, the Doctor doesn't act like he should at this point. He's too proactive, spending a lot of energy and time on an issue he could, in theory, have ignored. Now, I would say that this is fallout from when he came up against a problem he couldn't leave alone in The Time Travellers, that those events changed him; but really I see no other evidence for such an interpretation. He also whips up an antigravity device for moving the stone that seems more appropriate for later incarnations, leading to a passage highly reminiscent of Remembrance of the Daleks.
And this is a great example of why I say the good, bad and awkward are all jumbled up. We have here strong imagery, but it's the wrong imagery, and it raises questions I don't want to be asking right now. Our heroes' theft of the stone is beautifully handled - but what happened to the students who admitted to the crime? Do they exist in this version of history, and if so were they lying? Are the references to the program's future just nods for the fans, or something more? How does it all fit in with the wider Whoniverse?
And since I've asked that question...
A Confused Chronology, part 6: The Closest We've Ever Been to Our Own Time and Place
As mentioned in a previous post, Iananbarbara discuss staying on - since they are the closest they've ever been to their own time and place. Which is odd; it's quite possible they don't think that Planet of Giants counts because of the size difference, but Kilmartin in 1950 is further away than Bristol in 1954, which they visited while still travelling with Susan, during The Witch Hunters.
Or did they? So far as I can tell this story only references the TV show, and (with the caveat above) the statement here makes sense in a Whoniverse consisting only of TV serials plus Set in Stone. Which isn't quite as crazy as it sounds when you consider that Gary Russell went to some lengths to demonstrate that the audios, novels, and comics existed in different continuities. Still, it's not a particularly satisfying answer to a continuity fetishist like me.
A single timestream with both discussions is never going to work, unless you posit an unpublished story in between during which their memories get wiped or some such, and even then you run into similar difficulties reconciling it with The Revenants (set in 1956). If you place that one last the repeated discussion is at least accurate, but I would still find it odd that it's so similar in the three cases; and the fact that Iananbarbara are calm, contented, and at home in the TARDIS at the end of Set in Stone makes their eagerness to leave when they reach Orkney unlikely. Swap the order and you run into other difficulties. What to do, then? I can see a couple of possibilities:
(a) Don't Worry About It.
This is the simplest solution: ignore the contradictions, or if you can't do that, mentally edit the stories until they fit.
(b) A Quantum Superposition of Stories.
Quantum's always a good word to use in technobabble; there's a sense in popular culture that even the scientists who work with it don't really understand it, and as a result it can do anything. It even has a 'many worlds' interpretation, which sounds like just what we need here.
In brief, the idea behind quantum superposition is that a system which can exist in a number of different states actually does exist partly in all of them simultaneously - until we examine it, when measurement will give us a single, concrete result. We can do something analogous for Doctor Who stories: they all exist, contradictions and all, until we experience one - when that becomes "fact", potentially excluding others. The analogy falls down if we then go and read, watch or listen to one of those excluded stories, but not if we allow crosstime slippage: we are effectively shifting into an overlapping, parallel continuity.
Rubbish? Maybe, but admit it - it's fun, isn't it?
I'm going to do a couple more timeslip entries before leaving Susan behind altogether, and I'll discuss another theory when I tackle The Longest Story in the World. For now, though, this has got far too long and I'm shutting up.
Published:
Date: December 2005
ISBN: 1-84435-149-1
Rating:
4/10.
Next Time:
It probably will be a look at the post-Susan gap period overall. But you never know.
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