Haunted Series One
Episode Two
The World That Never Was
Written by The Genie
Foreword - by the Genie
This was the first Haunted episode to be written as a proper part of the series, and for that reason it does in places feel somewhat inadequate. It’s more or less a run-of-the-mill Doctor Who adventure, although there are elements that make it stick out from the crowd: specifically, it’s one of the only Haunted episodes ever to venture into the future, and it’s one of the very few to follow a conventional Doctor Who series format.
You could say there’s a bit of a modern allegory in there, but I didn’t intend too much on the political front. Mostly, it’s simply a tale of time itself, of how the new universe functions, and of quite how powerful a force the present is.
The World That Never Was
“The Second Age of Enlightenment, they called it; a great industrial revolution. A fountain of brilliant minds, a swarm of new technologies, a world of magnificent prospects – and Moscow was at the heart of it. A spectacular city, like 2013, but so much better.”
Charmed by the Doctor’s elation, Olivia picked up on what he hadn’t told her.
“Where – no, hang on, when are we?”
“Didn’t I mention?” replied the Doctor, leaping around the console in delight, “2332! 2332! All those years from your time! You’ll be the first woman on Earth to see the Second Age of Enlightenment in 2332! I never thought of taking anyone else here before! Isn’t that brilliant?”
The curious thing about the Doctor, Olivia remarked to herself, was quite how well he could lie. He clearly wasn’t a happy man; she’d seen him condemn a repenting criminal to death, without even a thought, and she knew that he was hiding something from her, yet his countenance suggested otherwise. He’d told her little about himself, only that he was a Doctor, and a time-traveller; an alien, with a fantastic ship. She’d taken that in, just about, but she couldn’t fathom his inner disposition. What was he motivated by? Revenge? It seemed he’d almost bloomed on it with the Davros incident. He was disturbed, yet there were no visible signs of trauma; he was inconceivably wise, but there were no visible signs of age. She’d catch an expression, occasionally, of loss, as if reflecting on something terrible, but he couldn’t remember what.
He rushed over to the doors like a child about to show off his new toy, gesturing to Olivia to open the doors. She approached, to some degree nervous, but to some degree excited, and slowly pulled the doors open.
This was the first Haunted episode to be written as a proper part of the series, and for that reason it does in places feel somewhat inadequate. It’s more or less a run-of-the-mill Doctor Who adventure, although there are elements that make it stick out from the crowd: specifically, it’s one of the only Haunted episodes ever to venture into the future, and it’s one of the very few to follow a conventional Doctor Who series format.
You could say there’s a bit of a modern allegory in there, but I didn’t intend too much on the political front. Mostly, it’s simply a tale of time itself, of how the new universe functions, and of quite how powerful a force the present is.
The World That Never Was
“The Second Age of Enlightenment, they called it; a great industrial revolution. A fountain of brilliant minds, a swarm of new technologies, a world of magnificent prospects – and Moscow was at the heart of it. A spectacular city, like 2013, but so much better.”
Charmed by the Doctor’s elation, Olivia picked up on what he hadn’t told her.
“Where – no, hang on, when are we?”
“Didn’t I mention?” replied the Doctor, leaping around the console in delight, “2332! 2332! All those years from your time! You’ll be the first woman on Earth to see the Second Age of Enlightenment in 2332! I never thought of taking anyone else here before! Isn’t that brilliant?”
The curious thing about the Doctor, Olivia remarked to herself, was quite how well he could lie. He clearly wasn’t a happy man; she’d seen him condemn a repenting criminal to death, without even a thought, and she knew that he was hiding something from her, yet his countenance suggested otherwise. He’d told her little about himself, only that he was a Doctor, and a time-traveller; an alien, with a fantastic ship. She’d taken that in, just about, but she couldn’t fathom his inner disposition. What was he motivated by? Revenge? It seemed he’d almost bloomed on it with the Davros incident. He was disturbed, yet there were no visible signs of trauma; he was inconceivably wise, but there were no visible signs of age. She’d catch an expression, occasionally, of loss, as if reflecting on something terrible, but he couldn’t remember what.
He rushed over to the doors like a child about to show off his new toy, gesturing to Olivia to open the doors. She approached, to some degree nervous, but to some degree excited, and slowly pulled the doors open.
One thing the Doctor hadn’t been completely lying about was the horizon, but she sensed embellished chicanery. She could see Saint Basil’s Cathedral in the distance, standing unchanged, but the rest of the environment largely contradicted it. The ground was like a desertified meadow, with coarse, dusty peaks, whilst the landscape was distorted; twisted structures, cliffs bent unnaturally out of shape – an industrial revolution, the Doctor had said, yet this was something of a grotesque regression.
|
The Doctor too was crestfallen, as if this wasn’t the Moscow he was expecting to see. He gazed out at the disfigured skyline, as if searching for the right place, but to no ado. He cautiously made his way out of the TARDIS, and Olivia cautiously followed. But their caution was futile; as he shut the doors to the vessel, and advanced forwards, they heard a muffled commotion, and saw a metal flap open up from the ground.
“Get in, you idiot!” cried the voice. No sooner did the Doctor hear the voice and look onwards than he grabbed Olivia by the hand and made a run for the opening. He could distinguish something peculiarly wrong in the distance; a shift of particles in the air, and it was heading for him. Olivia climbed a ladder down into the hole and the Doctor followed.
Before he was fully in, the perverted air reached him, and he felt an odd sensation; he underwent a surreal attack. He felt, in a way which you might relate to, an epiphany; a wave of knowledge passing over him, but impacting in a way which only the numinous could. Before he could embrace the feeling any further, though, he too was dragged underground, and passed out from the experience.
When he awoke, he looked around to see a great number of faces staring at him – for anyone who has ever passed out, this is quite an unsettling notion. Particularly when you know that these people shouldn’t even exist, as the Doctor observed. They were some kind of colony – he could tell this from their shared possessions; blankets between two, similar clothes, a campfire. This futuristic underground cellar was, in many ways, like a cave. The walls and floor were metallic, and the room was quite large, about twenty metres in length and width. The group were all huddled together, as if making do with what they had. Their faces were grubby, presumably from the lack of resources. There was a door – the Doctor assumed this led to the bathroom, though for about thirteen people, a communal restroom wasn’t ideal. There weren’t any proper seats, just benches. There were a stack of books, but interestingly, nothing relating to technology or with a screen.
A bald man gestured silently to a small and slightly dated television. The Doctor inspected it, and the man gestured again, this time implying that he should stop. After a few protests, the Doctor sat in silence, until a spark flickered on the screen, and it let out a vivid blue light which made the Doctor jump up from his settled position.
“It’s a scan,” said the man, finally making some noise, “to find out-“
As some undecipherable letters came up on the screen, the whole colony stared in awe at them, whilst the Doctor stood back; confounded.
“Run it again!” cried a child, who was dressed like a pile of sewing left-overs; with patchwork jeans and a patchwork jersey, and even, due to unnatural changes in tan and varying eyes, a patchwork face.
A woman, who was wrapped up in a grimy indigo blanket, and had hitherto been slumped against a wall, hopped jovially into the air, and bashed the top of the television set as hard as she could. They sat back down, and spent another minute in complete silence. Then, as before, the screen flashed, which startled the Doctor, and a child exclaimed, “Mother, it’s them, mother, they’re the ones!”
This chaos continued for another ten minutes; random individuals racing to the TV, striking it with all their might, waiting in silence, and the TV emitting the light; then a child or adult crying out a peculiar comment like, “He has it! He has it, on him!”, or “If the machine is working, then he’s the light at the end of the tunnel!” All the comments were said in a bizarre manner; this wasn’t archetypal humanity, though this wasn’t archetypal Earth, either.
“Would someone like to explain to me,” said the Doctor in a hushed voice, which abruptly hit a crescendo, “what the HELL is going on?”
The commotion fell silent and even Olivia felt her heart skip a beat. The Doctor’s outburst had taken everyone by surprise. The bald man raised his hand meekly, to which the Doctor gestured his communication.
“Well-“ began the man, nervously, “we’ve been d-developing this scanner for quite some time, and it’s picked up something, well, rather –“ he paused, trying to pick the right word, “hopeful. You see, this picks up what the human eye can’t see, and we’ve been studying methods of time travel here. This… background radiation, is the type that we believe is carried by travellers of time. So, sorry for all the turmoil… but I think we may have found the light at the end of the tunnel.”
“What is this light at the end of the tunnel,” asked the Doctor, “and why do you need a time traveller?”
“Are you a time traveller?” asked the man, “Because that is of utmost importance. Are you a time traveller?”
“Yes,” said the Doctor, confessing his secret, “yes, I am.”
“When are you from?”
“It’s sort of complicated. From your perspective, I suppose, you could say the future.”
“Earth?”
“No. But I know about Earth – I’m fond of it. This isn’t the reality that was meant to be. But you know that – how?”
“It was more of a wild guess.” The man bowed his head is sorrow, “We always said the real world couldn’t be this bad. The aborted timeline theory came in a few decades ago when we were studying time travel. There is hope, that with developing technology, we can get someone to change the past. That someone is you.”
“Hang on a minute,” said the Doctor, almost jokingly, “I don’t know what the heck has been done to this time. I was expecting the Second Age of Enlightenment – I don’t even know what I’m fixing!”
“It all began back in 2205. Viktor Krynov – a great entrepreneur, launched a revolutionary new technology: the Cloud. Have you heard of it?”
“Not this exact one, no,” said the Doctor, “but I know of others like it. The Cloud is a worldwide – or nationwide – network, internet signal, wireless, and humans themselves can connect to it. You can converse, share knowledge, discover, and without any kind of device. Am I correct?”
“Yes, indeed,” the bald man looked up at the Doctor sombrely, “but all was lost. Something went wrong – we don’t know what. The Cloud lost control. The wave of energy was too strong and every computer, the whole internet itself, was transmitted at full strength. That’s what those winds are outside – we call them the Winds of Knowledge. They overwhelm you with information, and you become unbalanced or worse destroyed, like a broken computer. The only things capable of travelling through them with minor damage are the eugenics-“
“You breed eugenics?” The Doctor looked repulsed. “And you send them out into that world?”
“Oh, don’t get sentimental.” The bald man impudently brushed away the comment, “They’re only machines, but with flesh tissue. They’re not alive. They have no free will… what is life, without free will? And what would we be without the eugenics? There’d be no way of us getting food supplies, or even pure water for that matter. There’d be no built sanctuaries. Let’s be honest, we wouldn’t be here.”
“I have to change this,” bellowed the Doctor, valiantly, “this whole future is wrong!”
“But you don’t have coordinates!” cried the man, “You don’t even know where you’re going!”
“Since when has that ever stopped me…?” The Doctor looked over to Olivia who grinned back at him. He climbed the ladder and peered over the flap.
“Right,” he began, “the TARDIS has been moved by the winds, and somewhat damaged by the looks of it, but I’ll manage a trip at the least – she’s a tough old girl. The gales seem to be fairly frequent, but also relatively predictable. Olivia, are you ready?”
Olivia’s reaction was fairly self-explanatory. The Doctor headed up outside, and Olivia followed.
He stared out at the horizon – still a ghastly one. He sighed; what this world could have been, he thought, and what this world has become. There were no oncoming winds visible to the naked eye, which was a good start. He grabbed Olivia’s hand, and they began running towards the TARDIS. Olivia tripped on a rock and fell flat on her face. She wasn’t critically injured, but it had ruined any chances of success. They were still a few metres away from the flap but the TARDIS was only just within walking distance.
“Leave me,” she said, as she pulled herself up, “I think I’ve broken a limb.”
“I can’t guarantee what will happen,” replied the Doctor, “the laws of time changed – and recently. I think – or at least, I hope – that if you stay here, time will change around you, and you will remain undamaged. But I can’t guarantee that, Olivia. There are some great risks involved. There’s a one percent chance you’ll be erased from the timeline completely. There’s another chance that when this world reverts back to normal, it’ll be in the middle of a war, or you’ll be in a river, and I’ll lose you. Do you understand the odds?”
“If you carry me to the TARDIS,” she replied, struggling for breath, “the winds will catch up and we’ll both be killed. If you stay with me and wait, the next wave to hit the TARDIS might be fatal. It’s a risk worth taking.”
The Doctor looked into her eyes, and realised the woman he was looking at. A woman of true virtue; an innocent soul, trying to make an impression on an age-old god – yet she was successful. He gazed solicitously into her eyes. They were eyes of hope, of understanding. Eyes pleading to be seen – fixating themselves into your heart; trying to bear an impression. The Doctor realised what he had to do – it hurt him – but she was right.
“I can get back to the cellar myself,” whispered Olivia; understanding his expression completely.
“I’m coming back for you,” said the Doctor, “- I will come back.”
The Doctor set his course, and left Olivia climbing back down to shelter from the cataclysm. He began his trek to the TARDIS, alone. He was used to solitude. Yet a part of him – that part that wasn’t focused on purpose – felt as if there was company. He felt a chill run down his spine. He turned around – half expecting to see someone. And out of the corner of his eye, he did. As he got to the TARDIS, he dared not look back. But he knew what he’d experienced. He saw something, but he couldn’t place what. An entity of darkness among the shadows of hell – something new.
The TARDIS
The Doctor darted around the console, flicking switches madly, ensuring he’d left this sickening dystopia. He was haunted – an unearthly spectre was plaguing him. It was a figure, he’d guessed, looking back, though it was augmented in his mind; the subconscious playing with his fear, twisting it, turning it into a nightmare which tormented his days and weakened his spirit. There was no reason behind the figure; it was a sensation of the numinous, which scared the Doctor greatly, because it lay beyond science. Science defined his life; it dictated his principles. A force behind science questioned his existence and vexed his humanity.
The Doctor liked his TARDIS; it evoked the best memories. The days before everything went wrong. It was a dark place, with an eerie tone, but it was home, and where his heart truly lay. He preferred being alone, in many ways; no responsibilities, no lives to protect. He could take risks and could make good without having to worry about his own safety. But he’d become a danger; that’s why he exiled himself to Earth. He needed someone with him or he wasn’t safe to travel. He hoped, remaining on Earth, that he’d meet her again. He knew who she was; what she was, and from that knowledge, knew there was no chance of her return. But he’s seen her die more than once, and hoped that she could return, though he knew it wasn’t possible. It broke his heart. The girl had left an everlasting imprint on him. Her secret had nearly cost him his life, but she’d guided him out of the darkness. It reminded him of the Russians’ idiom; the light at the end of the tunnel. That’s exactly what she’d been. Olivia was there for him… but she wasn’t her. Not the woman who had travelled with him before. The woman who died and died again. He missed the old days. The mysterious old days. He wished he’d never found out the truth.
He’d become so lost amid his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed that his computer screen was flashing. The TARDIS had taken him where he needed to go – he was going to meet Krynov – and he was going to fix everything.
Moscow, 2332 - Underground
Olivia was fretful. She couldn’t deny that – the Doctor seemed to have such little knowledge of the laws of time as a whole. It occurred to her that if time changed, and she remained, that there may be no underground. She might become cemented into the Earth; a rotting corpse before she’d even taken her last breath. Or the timeline might change around her; everything going back to how it should be, and in that reality, that perfect reality, she wouldn’t belong there. She could be erased. Or if she left, in a moment of panic, and walked the bleak land above her, she could collide with where someone should be standing in correct reality, and become fused with them; a grotesque synthesis of two presences. The thoughts horrified her. She tried not to think.
“The eugenics will be on their way, soon,” said the impulsive woman in the indigo blanket. It occurred to Olivia that these people were a strange deviation of humanity. They had a preposterous amount of idiosyncrasies – their instincts were shaped by the unnatural environment around them; they didn’t think like you or I. They were human, by classification, yet by visibility, they were more alien than anything she had seen with the Doctor in their two travels so far.
“What are the eugenics, exactly?” asked Olivia.
“Genetically engineered life,” replied the woman, “they transport things for us, across land. Their bodies can withstand more than us; what would kill us out there only mildly harms them. They’re lucky. They’ll be on the way with food and water.”
Olivia heard the flap swing open. She was about to meet these eugenics: creatures who were never even meant to exist. She hoped they didn’t leave an impression.
Moscow, 2205
The Doctor checked the scanner.
“Oh.”
The TARDIS had taken him where he needed to be – exactly where he needed to be. He’d materialized in Krynov’s office.
The room was like any normal office; brown rug covering up a marble flooring, a bureau cluttered with paperwork, and the occupant, lounging back on an executive chair (the TARDIS had clearly materialized invisibly – it was beginning to learn some common sense!). But where the room would normally end, the floors and wall changed to a clinical white, and led to a smaller section, wherein a desk with half a dozen computers was stood; each turned on and performing some kind of preliminary checks. The Doctor grinned. A lab. Perhaps he’d be able to reason with Viktor Krynov after all – a fellow physicist? Perchance he’d even be able to explain the TARDIS to him.
As the Doctor had expected, though, Krynov was most troubled by his sudden appearance. The Doctor had to find a way to reassure him – and quickly.
“It’s OK, I’m a friend, don’t sound the alarms! I’m not going to hurt you!”
Krynov contemplated for a minute, and stood back warily.
He was about forty years old, with black hair and a goatee. He bore a harsh visage; his suspicion was defined by his distrusting eyes. Despite the TARDIS translation software, he still had a strong Russian accent; rolling his r’s incessantly.
“Who are you?” he asked, “Why are you here? How did you do that?”
“I’m the Doctor. And I don’t have long. The Cloud – tell me, when are you launching it?”
“Sir,” replied Krynov, good-humouredly, “we’ve already begun the countdown! I’m not going to ask you just yet how you appeared – I assume you used mirrors – but what is your concern with the Cloud?”
“There’s a fault in it,” said the Doctor; panicked, “it could mean the end of everything! You have to run a final check! Please, now!”
“Sir,” said Krynov again, “I assure you, everything has been checked.”
“And something goes wrong, now!” cried the Doctor, “Listen to me! Go to your computer, look at the screens. Check everything – check what nobody else would check!”
“I have professionals on this, launching it now,” said Krynov superciliously, “and I must be with them – the Cloud will be made real in one hour!”
“And you created it!” said the Doctor, trying to sound flattering, “You will notice faults that no one else will! Go, check the computer!”
Krynov reluctantly made his way over to the desk, keeping one eye on the Doctor. He casually clicked a mouse down, and suddenly his attention was fully diverted to the screen. He’d seen something – something he hadn’t seen before. His eyes epitomized his terror - always with the eyes, thought the Doctor; always with the eyes.
“I told you!” said the Doctor, “turn it off! Do whatever you can! Cancel the program! Emergency cancellation!”
Krynov turned around; his heart sunken. He was truly disillusioned. But what he said next came sincerely as a surprise to the Doctor.
“It is nothing. A minor unimportance. Leave – now. Or I will have you arrested.”
Moscow, 2332 - Underground
The eugenic was of frail stature. It was very petite, and walked, spoke and acted with the innocence of a child. Its build was like that of a child, but less healthy; bones protruding through the skin, and a ghostly, pale quality to its face. It was wrinkled, too; like an old man, and the area around its mouth was weathered with age. Its eyes were deep and sunken into the skin, and staring into them was like looking into a pit; trying to find what was hidden down there. It was bald, with odd strands of hair here and there. It had handed out food packages to all, and was sitting for a moment’s rest.
“Hello,” said Olivia sympathetically, “my name’s Olivia.”
“Don’t talk to it!” whispered one of the children, and continued his conversation with his Father.
“Why shouldn't I?” hissed Olivia back. Her outburst had startled everyone – particularly herself. “Sorry.” She continued speaking to the eugenic, “What is your name?”
“M-m-m…m-m-m… m-m-m-my name…?” It spoke like a machine, being turned on after years of silence; rebooting its systems. It had a croaky voice, but it was unquestionably a child’s one.
“Yes, your name, sweetheart.” Olivia seemed to be reverting to a Mother-like speech pattern. Odd, she thought. Perhaps it needs a Mother.
“M…m…my name is… 122428.”
Olivia laughed, “no, not your number, your name. What did they call you?”
“They called me… 122428.”
“OK… let me try something else. How old are you?”
“How…old…am-m-m-m-m-m-m- I?”
“Yes… how long have you been alive for?”
“I have been alive for… a week.”
“A week?” Olivia was dismayed. They let this… child – out there?
“Oh dear,” said a woman crouched in the corner, dressed like a patchwork blanket, “he’ll be on his way soon-“
“What do you mean, ‘on his way’”?” interjected Olivia.
“Oh, my dear, they only lives a week or two,” retorted the woman heartlessly.
“What…?” Olivia felt a tear in her eye, “After all these years of eugenics research… they’ve only managed to give them a lifespan of a week?”
“Well, they has to do as they told,” said the woman, “and they told to go out there and deliver food. They can last those winds, but if they’re out in them all day, they starts to do some damage. It’s only a matter of time…”
Olivia turned back to the eugenic. “How do you feel? Are you in pain?”
“How d-d-d-do I feel? I feel… my leg feels… like a rock. My other leg… like water.”
“Does it hurt?” Olivia re-phrased herself, realising it probably didn’t even know the word, “Do you like the feeling?”
“No,” replied the eugenic solemnly, “it feels… bad.”
“Right, come on you,” called the woman, “that’s enough rest.”
“Stop!” yelled Olivia, jumping up and startling everyone again, “You are not sending him out there! Not like that! You think you can do that? To a living creature? A creature like yourself?”
“Oh, dear,” replied the woman, “it’s not human.”
Olivia looked at her in disgust, like she’d just spat out a bitter pill. “He goes out and risks himself for you every day without fail. He wastes his whole life and lets his body slowly rot away so that you can get food to eat and water to drink. And you… you sit here, your whole lives, eating, drinking, and sleeping. What’s the point in you? He’s more human than you’ll ever be. You should be the ones out there – all of you!”
With that harsh remark, she climbed the ladder, and lifted the flap.
“Where are you going?” asked the bald man, “You can’t go out there!”
“Oh, can’t I? In a minute time is going to change. I don’t give a damn anymore, because I’m probably not even going to survive. I never understood how short life was… now I think it’s just hit me.”
Moscow, 2205 – Viktor Krynov’s Office
“You saw something!” yelled the Doctor, furious at the professor’s ignorance, “You know it! Out of the corner of your eye… you know this is danger. You can’t let this happen!”
“Guards!” cried Krynov, at the top of his voice. Some armed guards came in and secured the Doctor is their rock-like grips. He struggled, but the struggling was pointless. As they dragged him away, he gripped the side of the door, taking one last look at Krynov.
“I’ve seen the future, Viktor. You’re going to regret this…”
Moscow, 2332
Olivia took her first tentative steps outside. She looked into the distance to see if she could observe any winds, but nothing. Suddenly, the landscape started to change, undergoing a dozen different fluctuations; a Roman-looking palace gleaming with the light of the sun, a classic snowy Moscow, a castle grounds, and then, after a few more alternations, it returned to how it was before, but worse. They sky was now a burnt amber with black clouds of smoke, and a fierce wind could be heard. Had time been changed? What had the Doctor done?
Olivia looked down, perturbed, to see that the underground shelter beneath her had vanished. There was no hatch; just rocks and soil. The ultimate revelation, however, was when she looked up, and saw the full extent of the Doctor’s interference. There was a storm brewing – and it wasn’t a storm; it was like warped particles of air, swirling in an abyss of metamorphosed clouds. Olivia recognised it – it was a Storm of Knowledge. An overpowering and infinitely dangerous cloud of information that would soon swoop down to the sterile land which Olivia stood on and take her life.
Moscow, 2205
The Doctor sat dismally in his cell. He hadn’t paid much attention to the journey he took; his thoughts were immersed in last-minute plans of how he could possibly change things now. Just to think; Olivia was living such a happy life - now she too would perish at his hands. There was absolutely nothing he could do.
A thought befell the Doctor that if Krynov tried to go ahead with the release of the Cloud but attempted to change what was wrong, the future may change again. Olivia could be faced with a better world to live in – or an even worse one…
Moscow, 2332
Olivia stood, fixed to the ground in terror like a child clinging onto her mother. The storm had transformed now into a hurricane and it was pulling everything up with it. There were no signs of life in this hell – nothing at all.
It occurred to her that she’d never see her family again, or her friends. To think about Alex devastated her. She’d be back in Shanghai all alone, always waiting. Olivia had been too harsh on her. She’d said things she didn’t mean. Alex was a good friend, and they didn’t come any better. Her life hadn’t gone too well either, and she never seemed to settle with a job. Now she’d leave her waiting for a day that would never come.
Moscow, 2205
Viktor stepped out of his limousine pompously, beaming at the press that surrounded him. The man had been right; there was a fault with the Cloud. But it was so minor; so unimportant, it couldn’t amount to much… could it?
Viktor shook the thought away. The last thing he needed at this stage was doubt. He had to display confidence; that was how becoming a personage worked. You had to take the lead… guide everyone else into the light; into your way of life. He’d be rich, famous, respected – a compensation he’d promised himself for a poor childhood.
The activation centre was massive. It was like an aircraft hangar; a huge warehouse, with floors and floors of ladders, platforms and framework. Then, in the centre, was the transmitter: a massive disc, it must have been about seventy feet in both height and width, and it displayed such wonder. The beauty of science – and it was his. Nothing could go wrong, could it?
ENTERING FIRST STAGE OF COUNTDOWN
The ground shook and Krynov was thrown the floor. Alarms were sounding from all around, disorientating his senses and making him lose his apparent sagacity. There was only one option. It wasn’t particularly desirable, but it seemed the only alternative.
***
The door to the cell clicked open and the Doctor lifted his head from his hands, half-interested. It was too late now. He was shocked, however, to see Krynov standing at the door, without any guards or protection.
“Look… you knew about this fault.” He seemed to be trying to force out a compliment which didn’t want to escape his lips. “I… need your help.”
The public uproar increased even more when the spectators looked up and saw the Doctor and Krynov at the controls. The wave hadn’t been transmitted, thankfully. But it was almost impossible to stop. The Doctor stood looking at the screens, bewildered.
“Let’s see… the Cloud is beginning to form, and once it’s formed, it will be automatically released. So, take what we know, the formation of the Cloud is occurring behind the transmitter. How to we control what goes on down there?”
“There’s a… room,” replied Krynov, “directly next to the transmitter. I suppose we could stop it from within there.”
The pair clambered down the ladders, nearly falling as the tremors continued. The outcry from the audiences was becoming a danger; they were clambering over the railing and entering the control decks. Krynov entered a few numbers into a digit pad and the door opened.
This backstage control room was an unnerving place to be; shadowy, with glimmers of light attempting to penetrate the walls but being reflected back outside. This was the place where no one came. The whole room was full of computers and wiring, and there was an eerie blue glow. It was a little like the heart of a nuclear power station – one that was going into meltdown. The Doctor attended to some wires, and Krynov followed closely behind.
“Let’s see,” he said, inspecting them, “we can… oh.”
“What is it?”
“It’s too late. We’re never going to stop it now. The only way to possibly end this is to destroy the transmitter – and there’s no way of doing that.”
Krynov took a moment to himself. He knew the answer; however much he tried to hide it in the depths of his mind, it kept finding its way back to him, pressing at his guilt, and causing him to perspire just at the thought. He imagined how the public really perceived him now: a liar, a fraud, a let-down. If there was one chance to redeem himself, he’d take it. And here it was; staring him in the face.
“There is… a way,” he stammered, seizing the moment before it faded, “there is a self-destruct mode. I installed it in case of any kind of radiation spills from the generator. But it destroys this whole place… not just the transmitter; the building, the offices, the grounds. It would obliterate everything within a half-mile radius. I couldn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” countered the Doctor, guiltily, “but if it’s the only way… you have to do it.”
“It will kill me – straight away. No chance to escape.”
“Let me go,” uttered the Doctor heartlessly, “I have to get to my friend. Give me ten minutes. That will give the onlookers a chance to make an escape.”
“How can you be so sure that I’ll do this?” A tear was forming in Krynov’s eye.
“Because I know how you want to be seen. And I know how much being seen that way matters to you. I’m sorry…”
The Doctor, placing all trust in Krynov, sprinted along the platforms, and headed back for the TARDIS.
Krynov stood in amazement. How could a man do such a thing – leave someone dying without even looking back? He was better than the Doctor, in the end. That was some reassurance. And it would be over soon – a quick death, he promised himself. Like turning off a switch – an appropriate end to a scientific career. Years of hard work, and all for this. He hoped one day someone would stumble across some of his findings and make good use of them. He hoped he could be an inspiration.
“I hope I’m remembered…”
Moscow, 2332
Olivia watched the scene change once again; a diversity of could-have-been and would-have-been timelines flashing before her. She remained rooted to her spot, hoping desperately that nothing awful happened. Suddenly, she heard the familiar grinding sound, and appeared inside the TARDIS.
“Doctor!”
Olivia had completely forgotten her leg – whether this was because the reality she’d broken it in no longer existed or because it wasn’t broken at all didn’t matter to her. She ran up and embraced the Doctor in a full-on hug.
“I missed you… so much.”
“You too.” The Doctor grinned.
Olivia stepped back, trying to regain a more formal approach.
“How did you manage to stop it – the wave? What was the cost?”
“Viktor Krynov… he died. I couldn’t stop it.”
Olivia pitied him, but a part of her was appalled. Appalled that he could brush it away so quickly and stand there beaming without an ounce of guilt.
“You let him die… just like that? And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Olivia, something happened, a while ago. I fought in a war. And I had to kill… I had to kill to survive. When you’ve done it once, you get this feeling in your gut that won’t go away. The longer it stays there, the longer you hold your confession for, you start to change the way you act. You become a different person, out of guilt, and out of realisation. You see what you’ve become. And then, if you kill again, you don’t get that feeling. You become a cold, heartless, merciless assassin. You’re not a person anymore; you’re a weapon. That’s why I had to let Davros die. That kind of thing is incurable. I know from experience.”
Olivia reflected on that statement for a moment, and decided to pocket it deep in her subconscious.
“Come on then,” she said, “let’s see what we’ve changed.”
The Doctor took Olivia’s hand and they stepped outside. The thoughts about the spectre that had haunted the Doctor were still plaguing him.
They both stopped at the same time, in complete disbelief. “The Second Age of Enlightenment, they called it; a great industrial revolution. A fountain of brilliant minds, a swarm of new technologies, a world of magnificent prospects – and Moscow was at the heart of it. A spectacular city, like 2013, but so much better” – that’s what the Doctor had said. And how wrong he was, once again.
They were presented with an archaeological dig: a large pit, being excavated by a team of men and women in white jackets. On the horizon was just a forest – well, not just a forest; a whimsical tropical rainforest: canopies stretching high up into the sky, exotic birds calling as loud as they could, hundreds of shrubberies growing elaborately, begging to be seen - it was a completely different reality.
“How…”
“I, err - sometimes,” began the Doctor, “something happens. Something – something changes the past. You can never completely be sure what – and I fix it. But on other times, I think I’m fixing it, but in fact I go completely wrong. And - I can’t track where I went wrong. Causality is like web, and I’m pulling one of the first strings. The other strings in the web then bend around that string. And any one of those strings could have caused this. I… I’m not always successful, but I aim for great accomplishments. The universe is big – the universe is impossible. I may appear a god, but I have no control over these kinds of events. Some call it the String Theorem. Some call it the Predestined Science. And some… some call it destiny.”
“You’re in a new world,” answered Olivia simply. “And you’re coming to terms with it.”
“Yes,” agreed the Doctor. “I am.”
“You’re scared and alone and the people around you are in danger, but there’s a bit of you, just a bit of you, that finds the whole experience thrilling.”
“…yes.”
Olivia rested her hand on the door of the TARDIS, beckoning the Doctor on the next adventure.
“Join the club.”
“Get in, you idiot!” cried the voice. No sooner did the Doctor hear the voice and look onwards than he grabbed Olivia by the hand and made a run for the opening. He could distinguish something peculiarly wrong in the distance; a shift of particles in the air, and it was heading for him. Olivia climbed a ladder down into the hole and the Doctor followed.
Before he was fully in, the perverted air reached him, and he felt an odd sensation; he underwent a surreal attack. He felt, in a way which you might relate to, an epiphany; a wave of knowledge passing over him, but impacting in a way which only the numinous could. Before he could embrace the feeling any further, though, he too was dragged underground, and passed out from the experience.
When he awoke, he looked around to see a great number of faces staring at him – for anyone who has ever passed out, this is quite an unsettling notion. Particularly when you know that these people shouldn’t even exist, as the Doctor observed. They were some kind of colony – he could tell this from their shared possessions; blankets between two, similar clothes, a campfire. This futuristic underground cellar was, in many ways, like a cave. The walls and floor were metallic, and the room was quite large, about twenty metres in length and width. The group were all huddled together, as if making do with what they had. Their faces were grubby, presumably from the lack of resources. There was a door – the Doctor assumed this led to the bathroom, though for about thirteen people, a communal restroom wasn’t ideal. There weren’t any proper seats, just benches. There were a stack of books, but interestingly, nothing relating to technology or with a screen.
A bald man gestured silently to a small and slightly dated television. The Doctor inspected it, and the man gestured again, this time implying that he should stop. After a few protests, the Doctor sat in silence, until a spark flickered on the screen, and it let out a vivid blue light which made the Doctor jump up from his settled position.
“It’s a scan,” said the man, finally making some noise, “to find out-“
As some undecipherable letters came up on the screen, the whole colony stared in awe at them, whilst the Doctor stood back; confounded.
“Run it again!” cried a child, who was dressed like a pile of sewing left-overs; with patchwork jeans and a patchwork jersey, and even, due to unnatural changes in tan and varying eyes, a patchwork face.
A woman, who was wrapped up in a grimy indigo blanket, and had hitherto been slumped against a wall, hopped jovially into the air, and bashed the top of the television set as hard as she could. They sat back down, and spent another minute in complete silence. Then, as before, the screen flashed, which startled the Doctor, and a child exclaimed, “Mother, it’s them, mother, they’re the ones!”
This chaos continued for another ten minutes; random individuals racing to the TV, striking it with all their might, waiting in silence, and the TV emitting the light; then a child or adult crying out a peculiar comment like, “He has it! He has it, on him!”, or “If the machine is working, then he’s the light at the end of the tunnel!” All the comments were said in a bizarre manner; this wasn’t archetypal humanity, though this wasn’t archetypal Earth, either.
“Would someone like to explain to me,” said the Doctor in a hushed voice, which abruptly hit a crescendo, “what the HELL is going on?”
The commotion fell silent and even Olivia felt her heart skip a beat. The Doctor’s outburst had taken everyone by surprise. The bald man raised his hand meekly, to which the Doctor gestured his communication.
“Well-“ began the man, nervously, “we’ve been d-developing this scanner for quite some time, and it’s picked up something, well, rather –“ he paused, trying to pick the right word, “hopeful. You see, this picks up what the human eye can’t see, and we’ve been studying methods of time travel here. This… background radiation, is the type that we believe is carried by travellers of time. So, sorry for all the turmoil… but I think we may have found the light at the end of the tunnel.”
“What is this light at the end of the tunnel,” asked the Doctor, “and why do you need a time traveller?”
“Are you a time traveller?” asked the man, “Because that is of utmost importance. Are you a time traveller?”
“Yes,” said the Doctor, confessing his secret, “yes, I am.”
“When are you from?”
“It’s sort of complicated. From your perspective, I suppose, you could say the future.”
“Earth?”
“No. But I know about Earth – I’m fond of it. This isn’t the reality that was meant to be. But you know that – how?”
“It was more of a wild guess.” The man bowed his head is sorrow, “We always said the real world couldn’t be this bad. The aborted timeline theory came in a few decades ago when we were studying time travel. There is hope, that with developing technology, we can get someone to change the past. That someone is you.”
“Hang on a minute,” said the Doctor, almost jokingly, “I don’t know what the heck has been done to this time. I was expecting the Second Age of Enlightenment – I don’t even know what I’m fixing!”
“It all began back in 2205. Viktor Krynov – a great entrepreneur, launched a revolutionary new technology: the Cloud. Have you heard of it?”
“Not this exact one, no,” said the Doctor, “but I know of others like it. The Cloud is a worldwide – or nationwide – network, internet signal, wireless, and humans themselves can connect to it. You can converse, share knowledge, discover, and without any kind of device. Am I correct?”
“Yes, indeed,” the bald man looked up at the Doctor sombrely, “but all was lost. Something went wrong – we don’t know what. The Cloud lost control. The wave of energy was too strong and every computer, the whole internet itself, was transmitted at full strength. That’s what those winds are outside – we call them the Winds of Knowledge. They overwhelm you with information, and you become unbalanced or worse destroyed, like a broken computer. The only things capable of travelling through them with minor damage are the eugenics-“
“You breed eugenics?” The Doctor looked repulsed. “And you send them out into that world?”
“Oh, don’t get sentimental.” The bald man impudently brushed away the comment, “They’re only machines, but with flesh tissue. They’re not alive. They have no free will… what is life, without free will? And what would we be without the eugenics? There’d be no way of us getting food supplies, or even pure water for that matter. There’d be no built sanctuaries. Let’s be honest, we wouldn’t be here.”
“I have to change this,” bellowed the Doctor, valiantly, “this whole future is wrong!”
“But you don’t have coordinates!” cried the man, “You don’t even know where you’re going!”
“Since when has that ever stopped me…?” The Doctor looked over to Olivia who grinned back at him. He climbed the ladder and peered over the flap.
“Right,” he began, “the TARDIS has been moved by the winds, and somewhat damaged by the looks of it, but I’ll manage a trip at the least – she’s a tough old girl. The gales seem to be fairly frequent, but also relatively predictable. Olivia, are you ready?”
Olivia’s reaction was fairly self-explanatory. The Doctor headed up outside, and Olivia followed.
He stared out at the horizon – still a ghastly one. He sighed; what this world could have been, he thought, and what this world has become. There were no oncoming winds visible to the naked eye, which was a good start. He grabbed Olivia’s hand, and they began running towards the TARDIS. Olivia tripped on a rock and fell flat on her face. She wasn’t critically injured, but it had ruined any chances of success. They were still a few metres away from the flap but the TARDIS was only just within walking distance.
“Leave me,” she said, as she pulled herself up, “I think I’ve broken a limb.”
“I can’t guarantee what will happen,” replied the Doctor, “the laws of time changed – and recently. I think – or at least, I hope – that if you stay here, time will change around you, and you will remain undamaged. But I can’t guarantee that, Olivia. There are some great risks involved. There’s a one percent chance you’ll be erased from the timeline completely. There’s another chance that when this world reverts back to normal, it’ll be in the middle of a war, or you’ll be in a river, and I’ll lose you. Do you understand the odds?”
“If you carry me to the TARDIS,” she replied, struggling for breath, “the winds will catch up and we’ll both be killed. If you stay with me and wait, the next wave to hit the TARDIS might be fatal. It’s a risk worth taking.”
The Doctor looked into her eyes, and realised the woman he was looking at. A woman of true virtue; an innocent soul, trying to make an impression on an age-old god – yet she was successful. He gazed solicitously into her eyes. They were eyes of hope, of understanding. Eyes pleading to be seen – fixating themselves into your heart; trying to bear an impression. The Doctor realised what he had to do – it hurt him – but she was right.
“I can get back to the cellar myself,” whispered Olivia; understanding his expression completely.
“I’m coming back for you,” said the Doctor, “- I will come back.”
The Doctor set his course, and left Olivia climbing back down to shelter from the cataclysm. He began his trek to the TARDIS, alone. He was used to solitude. Yet a part of him – that part that wasn’t focused on purpose – felt as if there was company. He felt a chill run down his spine. He turned around – half expecting to see someone. And out of the corner of his eye, he did. As he got to the TARDIS, he dared not look back. But he knew what he’d experienced. He saw something, but he couldn’t place what. An entity of darkness among the shadows of hell – something new.
The TARDIS
The Doctor darted around the console, flicking switches madly, ensuring he’d left this sickening dystopia. He was haunted – an unearthly spectre was plaguing him. It was a figure, he’d guessed, looking back, though it was augmented in his mind; the subconscious playing with his fear, twisting it, turning it into a nightmare which tormented his days and weakened his spirit. There was no reason behind the figure; it was a sensation of the numinous, which scared the Doctor greatly, because it lay beyond science. Science defined his life; it dictated his principles. A force behind science questioned his existence and vexed his humanity.
The Doctor liked his TARDIS; it evoked the best memories. The days before everything went wrong. It was a dark place, with an eerie tone, but it was home, and where his heart truly lay. He preferred being alone, in many ways; no responsibilities, no lives to protect. He could take risks and could make good without having to worry about his own safety. But he’d become a danger; that’s why he exiled himself to Earth. He needed someone with him or he wasn’t safe to travel. He hoped, remaining on Earth, that he’d meet her again. He knew who she was; what she was, and from that knowledge, knew there was no chance of her return. But he’s seen her die more than once, and hoped that she could return, though he knew it wasn’t possible. It broke his heart. The girl had left an everlasting imprint on him. Her secret had nearly cost him his life, but she’d guided him out of the darkness. It reminded him of the Russians’ idiom; the light at the end of the tunnel. That’s exactly what she’d been. Olivia was there for him… but she wasn’t her. Not the woman who had travelled with him before. The woman who died and died again. He missed the old days. The mysterious old days. He wished he’d never found out the truth.
He’d become so lost amid his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed that his computer screen was flashing. The TARDIS had taken him where he needed to go – he was going to meet Krynov – and he was going to fix everything.
Moscow, 2332 - Underground
Olivia was fretful. She couldn’t deny that – the Doctor seemed to have such little knowledge of the laws of time as a whole. It occurred to her that if time changed, and she remained, that there may be no underground. She might become cemented into the Earth; a rotting corpse before she’d even taken her last breath. Or the timeline might change around her; everything going back to how it should be, and in that reality, that perfect reality, she wouldn’t belong there. She could be erased. Or if she left, in a moment of panic, and walked the bleak land above her, she could collide with where someone should be standing in correct reality, and become fused with them; a grotesque synthesis of two presences. The thoughts horrified her. She tried not to think.
“The eugenics will be on their way, soon,” said the impulsive woman in the indigo blanket. It occurred to Olivia that these people were a strange deviation of humanity. They had a preposterous amount of idiosyncrasies – their instincts were shaped by the unnatural environment around them; they didn’t think like you or I. They were human, by classification, yet by visibility, they were more alien than anything she had seen with the Doctor in their two travels so far.
“What are the eugenics, exactly?” asked Olivia.
“Genetically engineered life,” replied the woman, “they transport things for us, across land. Their bodies can withstand more than us; what would kill us out there only mildly harms them. They’re lucky. They’ll be on the way with food and water.”
Olivia heard the flap swing open. She was about to meet these eugenics: creatures who were never even meant to exist. She hoped they didn’t leave an impression.
Moscow, 2205
The Doctor checked the scanner.
“Oh.”
The TARDIS had taken him where he needed to be – exactly where he needed to be. He’d materialized in Krynov’s office.
The room was like any normal office; brown rug covering up a marble flooring, a bureau cluttered with paperwork, and the occupant, lounging back on an executive chair (the TARDIS had clearly materialized invisibly – it was beginning to learn some common sense!). But where the room would normally end, the floors and wall changed to a clinical white, and led to a smaller section, wherein a desk with half a dozen computers was stood; each turned on and performing some kind of preliminary checks. The Doctor grinned. A lab. Perhaps he’d be able to reason with Viktor Krynov after all – a fellow physicist? Perchance he’d even be able to explain the TARDIS to him.
As the Doctor had expected, though, Krynov was most troubled by his sudden appearance. The Doctor had to find a way to reassure him – and quickly.
“It’s OK, I’m a friend, don’t sound the alarms! I’m not going to hurt you!”
Krynov contemplated for a minute, and stood back warily.
He was about forty years old, with black hair and a goatee. He bore a harsh visage; his suspicion was defined by his distrusting eyes. Despite the TARDIS translation software, he still had a strong Russian accent; rolling his r’s incessantly.
“Who are you?” he asked, “Why are you here? How did you do that?”
“I’m the Doctor. And I don’t have long. The Cloud – tell me, when are you launching it?”
“Sir,” replied Krynov, good-humouredly, “we’ve already begun the countdown! I’m not going to ask you just yet how you appeared – I assume you used mirrors – but what is your concern with the Cloud?”
“There’s a fault in it,” said the Doctor; panicked, “it could mean the end of everything! You have to run a final check! Please, now!”
“Sir,” said Krynov again, “I assure you, everything has been checked.”
“And something goes wrong, now!” cried the Doctor, “Listen to me! Go to your computer, look at the screens. Check everything – check what nobody else would check!”
“I have professionals on this, launching it now,” said Krynov superciliously, “and I must be with them – the Cloud will be made real in one hour!”
“And you created it!” said the Doctor, trying to sound flattering, “You will notice faults that no one else will! Go, check the computer!”
Krynov reluctantly made his way over to the desk, keeping one eye on the Doctor. He casually clicked a mouse down, and suddenly his attention was fully diverted to the screen. He’d seen something – something he hadn’t seen before. His eyes epitomized his terror - always with the eyes, thought the Doctor; always with the eyes.
“I told you!” said the Doctor, “turn it off! Do whatever you can! Cancel the program! Emergency cancellation!”
Krynov turned around; his heart sunken. He was truly disillusioned. But what he said next came sincerely as a surprise to the Doctor.
“It is nothing. A minor unimportance. Leave – now. Or I will have you arrested.”
Moscow, 2332 - Underground
The eugenic was of frail stature. It was very petite, and walked, spoke and acted with the innocence of a child. Its build was like that of a child, but less healthy; bones protruding through the skin, and a ghostly, pale quality to its face. It was wrinkled, too; like an old man, and the area around its mouth was weathered with age. Its eyes were deep and sunken into the skin, and staring into them was like looking into a pit; trying to find what was hidden down there. It was bald, with odd strands of hair here and there. It had handed out food packages to all, and was sitting for a moment’s rest.
“Hello,” said Olivia sympathetically, “my name’s Olivia.”
“Don’t talk to it!” whispered one of the children, and continued his conversation with his Father.
“Why shouldn't I?” hissed Olivia back. Her outburst had startled everyone – particularly herself. “Sorry.” She continued speaking to the eugenic, “What is your name?”
“M-m-m…m-m-m… m-m-m-my name…?” It spoke like a machine, being turned on after years of silence; rebooting its systems. It had a croaky voice, but it was unquestionably a child’s one.
“Yes, your name, sweetheart.” Olivia seemed to be reverting to a Mother-like speech pattern. Odd, she thought. Perhaps it needs a Mother.
“M…m…my name is… 122428.”
Olivia laughed, “no, not your number, your name. What did they call you?”
“They called me… 122428.”
“OK… let me try something else. How old are you?”
“How…old…am-m-m-m-m-m-m- I?”
“Yes… how long have you been alive for?”
“I have been alive for… a week.”
“A week?” Olivia was dismayed. They let this… child – out there?
“Oh dear,” said a woman crouched in the corner, dressed like a patchwork blanket, “he’ll be on his way soon-“
“What do you mean, ‘on his way’”?” interjected Olivia.
“Oh, my dear, they only lives a week or two,” retorted the woman heartlessly.
“What…?” Olivia felt a tear in her eye, “After all these years of eugenics research… they’ve only managed to give them a lifespan of a week?”
“Well, they has to do as they told,” said the woman, “and they told to go out there and deliver food. They can last those winds, but if they’re out in them all day, they starts to do some damage. It’s only a matter of time…”
Olivia turned back to the eugenic. “How do you feel? Are you in pain?”
“How d-d-d-do I feel? I feel… my leg feels… like a rock. My other leg… like water.”
“Does it hurt?” Olivia re-phrased herself, realising it probably didn’t even know the word, “Do you like the feeling?”
“No,” replied the eugenic solemnly, “it feels… bad.”
“Right, come on you,” called the woman, “that’s enough rest.”
“Stop!” yelled Olivia, jumping up and startling everyone again, “You are not sending him out there! Not like that! You think you can do that? To a living creature? A creature like yourself?”
“Oh, dear,” replied the woman, “it’s not human.”
Olivia looked at her in disgust, like she’d just spat out a bitter pill. “He goes out and risks himself for you every day without fail. He wastes his whole life and lets his body slowly rot away so that you can get food to eat and water to drink. And you… you sit here, your whole lives, eating, drinking, and sleeping. What’s the point in you? He’s more human than you’ll ever be. You should be the ones out there – all of you!”
With that harsh remark, she climbed the ladder, and lifted the flap.
“Where are you going?” asked the bald man, “You can’t go out there!”
“Oh, can’t I? In a minute time is going to change. I don’t give a damn anymore, because I’m probably not even going to survive. I never understood how short life was… now I think it’s just hit me.”
Moscow, 2205 – Viktor Krynov’s Office
“You saw something!” yelled the Doctor, furious at the professor’s ignorance, “You know it! Out of the corner of your eye… you know this is danger. You can’t let this happen!”
“Guards!” cried Krynov, at the top of his voice. Some armed guards came in and secured the Doctor is their rock-like grips. He struggled, but the struggling was pointless. As they dragged him away, he gripped the side of the door, taking one last look at Krynov.
“I’ve seen the future, Viktor. You’re going to regret this…”
Moscow, 2332
Olivia took her first tentative steps outside. She looked into the distance to see if she could observe any winds, but nothing. Suddenly, the landscape started to change, undergoing a dozen different fluctuations; a Roman-looking palace gleaming with the light of the sun, a classic snowy Moscow, a castle grounds, and then, after a few more alternations, it returned to how it was before, but worse. They sky was now a burnt amber with black clouds of smoke, and a fierce wind could be heard. Had time been changed? What had the Doctor done?
Olivia looked down, perturbed, to see that the underground shelter beneath her had vanished. There was no hatch; just rocks and soil. The ultimate revelation, however, was when she looked up, and saw the full extent of the Doctor’s interference. There was a storm brewing – and it wasn’t a storm; it was like warped particles of air, swirling in an abyss of metamorphosed clouds. Olivia recognised it – it was a Storm of Knowledge. An overpowering and infinitely dangerous cloud of information that would soon swoop down to the sterile land which Olivia stood on and take her life.
Moscow, 2205
The Doctor sat dismally in his cell. He hadn’t paid much attention to the journey he took; his thoughts were immersed in last-minute plans of how he could possibly change things now. Just to think; Olivia was living such a happy life - now she too would perish at his hands. There was absolutely nothing he could do.
A thought befell the Doctor that if Krynov tried to go ahead with the release of the Cloud but attempted to change what was wrong, the future may change again. Olivia could be faced with a better world to live in – or an even worse one…
Moscow, 2332
Olivia stood, fixed to the ground in terror like a child clinging onto her mother. The storm had transformed now into a hurricane and it was pulling everything up with it. There were no signs of life in this hell – nothing at all.
It occurred to her that she’d never see her family again, or her friends. To think about Alex devastated her. She’d be back in Shanghai all alone, always waiting. Olivia had been too harsh on her. She’d said things she didn’t mean. Alex was a good friend, and they didn’t come any better. Her life hadn’t gone too well either, and she never seemed to settle with a job. Now she’d leave her waiting for a day that would never come.
Moscow, 2205
Viktor stepped out of his limousine pompously, beaming at the press that surrounded him. The man had been right; there was a fault with the Cloud. But it was so minor; so unimportant, it couldn’t amount to much… could it?
Viktor shook the thought away. The last thing he needed at this stage was doubt. He had to display confidence; that was how becoming a personage worked. You had to take the lead… guide everyone else into the light; into your way of life. He’d be rich, famous, respected – a compensation he’d promised himself for a poor childhood.
The activation centre was massive. It was like an aircraft hangar; a huge warehouse, with floors and floors of ladders, platforms and framework. Then, in the centre, was the transmitter: a massive disc, it must have been about seventy feet in both height and width, and it displayed such wonder. The beauty of science – and it was his. Nothing could go wrong, could it?
ENTERING FIRST STAGE OF COUNTDOWN
The ground shook and Krynov was thrown the floor. Alarms were sounding from all around, disorientating his senses and making him lose his apparent sagacity. There was only one option. It wasn’t particularly desirable, but it seemed the only alternative.
***
The door to the cell clicked open and the Doctor lifted his head from his hands, half-interested. It was too late now. He was shocked, however, to see Krynov standing at the door, without any guards or protection.
“Look… you knew about this fault.” He seemed to be trying to force out a compliment which didn’t want to escape his lips. “I… need your help.”
The public uproar increased even more when the spectators looked up and saw the Doctor and Krynov at the controls. The wave hadn’t been transmitted, thankfully. But it was almost impossible to stop. The Doctor stood looking at the screens, bewildered.
“Let’s see… the Cloud is beginning to form, and once it’s formed, it will be automatically released. So, take what we know, the formation of the Cloud is occurring behind the transmitter. How to we control what goes on down there?”
“There’s a… room,” replied Krynov, “directly next to the transmitter. I suppose we could stop it from within there.”
The pair clambered down the ladders, nearly falling as the tremors continued. The outcry from the audiences was becoming a danger; they were clambering over the railing and entering the control decks. Krynov entered a few numbers into a digit pad and the door opened.
This backstage control room was an unnerving place to be; shadowy, with glimmers of light attempting to penetrate the walls but being reflected back outside. This was the place where no one came. The whole room was full of computers and wiring, and there was an eerie blue glow. It was a little like the heart of a nuclear power station – one that was going into meltdown. The Doctor attended to some wires, and Krynov followed closely behind.
“Let’s see,” he said, inspecting them, “we can… oh.”
“What is it?”
“It’s too late. We’re never going to stop it now. The only way to possibly end this is to destroy the transmitter – and there’s no way of doing that.”
Krynov took a moment to himself. He knew the answer; however much he tried to hide it in the depths of his mind, it kept finding its way back to him, pressing at his guilt, and causing him to perspire just at the thought. He imagined how the public really perceived him now: a liar, a fraud, a let-down. If there was one chance to redeem himself, he’d take it. And here it was; staring him in the face.
“There is… a way,” he stammered, seizing the moment before it faded, “there is a self-destruct mode. I installed it in case of any kind of radiation spills from the generator. But it destroys this whole place… not just the transmitter; the building, the offices, the grounds. It would obliterate everything within a half-mile radius. I couldn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” countered the Doctor, guiltily, “but if it’s the only way… you have to do it.”
“It will kill me – straight away. No chance to escape.”
“Let me go,” uttered the Doctor heartlessly, “I have to get to my friend. Give me ten minutes. That will give the onlookers a chance to make an escape.”
“How can you be so sure that I’ll do this?” A tear was forming in Krynov’s eye.
“Because I know how you want to be seen. And I know how much being seen that way matters to you. I’m sorry…”
The Doctor, placing all trust in Krynov, sprinted along the platforms, and headed back for the TARDIS.
Krynov stood in amazement. How could a man do such a thing – leave someone dying without even looking back? He was better than the Doctor, in the end. That was some reassurance. And it would be over soon – a quick death, he promised himself. Like turning off a switch – an appropriate end to a scientific career. Years of hard work, and all for this. He hoped one day someone would stumble across some of his findings and make good use of them. He hoped he could be an inspiration.
“I hope I’m remembered…”
Moscow, 2332
Olivia watched the scene change once again; a diversity of could-have-been and would-have-been timelines flashing before her. She remained rooted to her spot, hoping desperately that nothing awful happened. Suddenly, she heard the familiar grinding sound, and appeared inside the TARDIS.
“Doctor!”
Olivia had completely forgotten her leg – whether this was because the reality she’d broken it in no longer existed or because it wasn’t broken at all didn’t matter to her. She ran up and embraced the Doctor in a full-on hug.
“I missed you… so much.”
“You too.” The Doctor grinned.
Olivia stepped back, trying to regain a more formal approach.
“How did you manage to stop it – the wave? What was the cost?”
“Viktor Krynov… he died. I couldn’t stop it.”
Olivia pitied him, but a part of her was appalled. Appalled that he could brush it away so quickly and stand there beaming without an ounce of guilt.
“You let him die… just like that? And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Olivia, something happened, a while ago. I fought in a war. And I had to kill… I had to kill to survive. When you’ve done it once, you get this feeling in your gut that won’t go away. The longer it stays there, the longer you hold your confession for, you start to change the way you act. You become a different person, out of guilt, and out of realisation. You see what you’ve become. And then, if you kill again, you don’t get that feeling. You become a cold, heartless, merciless assassin. You’re not a person anymore; you’re a weapon. That’s why I had to let Davros die. That kind of thing is incurable. I know from experience.”
Olivia reflected on that statement for a moment, and decided to pocket it deep in her subconscious.
“Come on then,” she said, “let’s see what we’ve changed.”
The Doctor took Olivia’s hand and they stepped outside. The thoughts about the spectre that had haunted the Doctor were still plaguing him.
They both stopped at the same time, in complete disbelief. “The Second Age of Enlightenment, they called it; a great industrial revolution. A fountain of brilliant minds, a swarm of new technologies, a world of magnificent prospects – and Moscow was at the heart of it. A spectacular city, like 2013, but so much better” – that’s what the Doctor had said. And how wrong he was, once again.
They were presented with an archaeological dig: a large pit, being excavated by a team of men and women in white jackets. On the horizon was just a forest – well, not just a forest; a whimsical tropical rainforest: canopies stretching high up into the sky, exotic birds calling as loud as they could, hundreds of shrubberies growing elaborately, begging to be seen - it was a completely different reality.
“How…”
“I, err - sometimes,” began the Doctor, “something happens. Something – something changes the past. You can never completely be sure what – and I fix it. But on other times, I think I’m fixing it, but in fact I go completely wrong. And - I can’t track where I went wrong. Causality is like web, and I’m pulling one of the first strings. The other strings in the web then bend around that string. And any one of those strings could have caused this. I… I’m not always successful, but I aim for great accomplishments. The universe is big – the universe is impossible. I may appear a god, but I have no control over these kinds of events. Some call it the String Theorem. Some call it the Predestined Science. And some… some call it destiny.”
“You’re in a new world,” answered Olivia simply. “And you’re coming to terms with it.”
“Yes,” agreed the Doctor. “I am.”
“You’re scared and alone and the people around you are in danger, but there’s a bit of you, just a bit of you, that finds the whole experience thrilling.”
“…yes.”
Olivia rested her hand on the door of the TARDIS, beckoning the Doctor on the next adventure.
“Join the club.”