Doctor Who: Code of the Krillitanes

by Richards, Justin

  ‘There’s nothing in my online diary about you starting – Mr…?’ She prompted him for his name.

  ‘Smith. And it’s Doctor, in fact. Doctor John Smith.’

  The man leaned across the front desk and turned the display screen so he could see it. He was holding what might have been a pen, though the end glowed bright blue.

  ‘Ah, here it is. That’s me.’

  Maddie couldn’t understand how she’d missed it. There on the screen of today’s expected visitors was ‘Doctor John Smith – Strategy and Workflow Manager (Access All Areas)’.

  ‘I’d better sort you out a badge, sir.’

  ‘Just Doctor will do,’ he told her. ‘You’ve been a great help. I’ll be sure to tell whoever you work for.’

  ‘Miss Sark,’ Maddie told him, handing him a clip-on ID badge. ‘This will do till we get you a proper one with your picture on it. Miss Sark is Sir Manning Cross’s own assistant, but I expect you know that.’

  The Doctor pinned on his temporary Access All Areas badge. ‘I expect I do,’ he agreed.

  It took the Doctor a little while to arrange himself an office. He made sure it had a computer, phone, pot plants, and a framed painting of a steam train in the rain, by JMW Turner. He also had an in-tray with nothing in it, and an out-tray with nothing in that either.

  A few people asked the Doctor who he was and what he did. When he told them he was the new manager for Strategy and Workflow, their eyes glazed over slightly and they changed the subject. They were all used to managers who did nothing anyone understood – or perhaps who just did nothing.

  The next stage was to get himself along to a few meetings. Then he could find out what the people who did do things actually did. There was an online diary which told the Doctor there was a Management Team Briefing in half an hour in Meeting Room 6D. That sounded useful.

  A young woman with long fair hair and rectangular glasses was working at a desk close to the door of the Doctor’s office.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he asked, ‘but where’s Meeting Room 6D?’

  She paused from her rattle of frantic typing to give him directions.

  ‘Thank you, er…?’ He tried to read her name from her badge, but the print was too small.

  ‘I’m Gabby.’

  ‘Of course. Nice to meet you, Gabby.’ The Doctor turned to go.

  ‘I’m your secretary,’ Gabby added, to the Doctor’s surprise.

  ‘I have a secretary?’

  ‘All high-level managers have a secretary.’

  ‘Well, I hope you have enough to keep you occupied for now.’

  Gabby smiled nervously, as if she was not sure if he was joking. ‘There’s loads. You’ve got over fifty emails to deal with, and there are reports to sign off. Plus expenses claims, and the group budget needs final numbers by Thursday.’

  The Doctor nodded. ‘I didn’t know I was so busy. Keep up the good work. If anyone wants me, I’ll be…’ He pointed vaguely in the direction Gabby had told him. ‘This way for 6D, right?’

  He took the lift up to the sixth floor. There were several other people heading towards Meeting Room 6D. The men were dressed smartly in suits, with flashy ties and well-polished shoes. The women were in dark, stylish business clothes and designer shoes.

  The Doctor paused in the doorway. He looked round the large glass table as everyone else took their seats. Then he glanced down at his crumpled suit and trainers. They were still muddy from the jungles of the planet Coco-Notix Five.

  ‘You must be the Doctor,’ a stern female voice said from behind him. ‘Go on in – we’ve been expecting you.’

  Chapter Four

  THE WOMAN WHO ushered the Doctor into the meeting room was as tall as he was but much broader. Her dark hair was cut above the collar like she was a schoolboy. Her dark jacket strained to do up.

  ‘Stella Sark,’ she introduced herself. ‘You know, I’m surprised I didn’t interview you for this job. Usually Sir Manning asks me to meet all the management recruits.’

  ‘Perhaps it was your day off,’ the Doctor said. ‘So, you’re the famous Stella Sark? May I call you—’

  ‘Miss Sark,’ she told him. ‘Yes, you may.’

  ‘Miss Sark,’ the Doctor echoed. ‘It has a ring to it.’

  He found himself a chair between two men in smart suits.

  ‘This is cosy,’ he said to them. ‘Do we get biscuits? Custard creams are the best. Or those ones that look like they’ve got squashed flies stuck in them.’

  Neither of the men said anything, so the Doctor held out his hand to one of them. ‘Garibaldi,’ he remembered the squashed fly biscuits were called.

  The man shook his hand. ‘Edward Howell. Pleased to meet you, Gary.’

  It took the Doctor a moment to work it out. Then he laughed. ‘Oh, sorry. No – I’m not Gary. Imagine being called Gary Baldie, especially if you had no hair. That’d be something, wouldn’t it? No, no, no, just call me Doctor.’

  He turned to the man on the other side of him. ‘Sorry, didn’t catch your name.’

  ‘Gary,’ the man said. He was completely bald.

  The Doctor’s eyes widened.

  ‘Joke,’ the man explained, breaking into a grin. ‘It’s Clive.’

  Someone cleared their throat very loudly. It was Stella Sark, now standing at the end of the large table. The Doctor realised that she and everyone else was looking at him and the man who wasn’t called Gary.

  ‘If you are all quite ready?’ Miss Sark said. ‘We have a lot to get through today. Sir Manning will join us for the closing summary in an hour.’

  The Doctor shielded his mouth from Miss Sark and asked Clive in a loud whisper: ‘Sir Manning Cross, is that?’

  Clive nodded, while trying to look as though he had not heard the Doctor. Though everyone else at the table had.

  ‘He’s my boss,’ the Doctor whispered proudly.

  ‘No, Doctor,’ Miss Sark said. ‘Sir Manning is my boss. And I am yours.’

  The Doctor nodded and raised his hand to show he’d understood. ‘Of course, but he’s sort of my boss too, isn’t he? Well,’ he went on, ‘I guess he’s all our bosses really. Can we do that thing where we go round the table?’

  Miss Sark blinked, thrown by the change of subject.

  ‘I don’t mean musical chairs,’ the Doctor said quickly.

  ‘Well, that’s a mercy,’ Miss Sark said.

  ‘Though musical chairs might be fun. No, I mean, you know, go round the table and introduce ourselves. I’ll start. I’m the Doctor. I’m a bit new, well I only started today actually. I’m managing Workflow and Strategy, er, stuff. Anyway, I’m settling in nicely, thank you. Everyone’s being very helpful.’ He nudged Clive. ‘Right, your turn.’

  ‘I think the rest of us know each other,’ Miss Sark said coldly. ‘Perhaps we can introduce ourselves over coffee. At the coffee break,’ she added, in case the Doctor saw this as an excuse to get coffee now.

  ‘Just so long as I don’t feel left out,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘That all right with you, Clive?’

  The hour until the coffee break was one of the most boring the Doctor could recall, but he didn’t complain. He tried not to yawn too often.

  When Miss Sark went through the monthly budget figures, he began to get interested. The spending on the Computer Department was far higher than he had expected.

  When Miss Sark showed the numbers of hits on the Brainy_Crisps website, the Doctor was more than surprised – he was astonished. He whistled through his teeth.

  ‘Impressed, Doctor?’ Miss Sark asked.

  ‘Gobsmacked, Miss Sark.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be. The website is a key part of our strategy. As the manager handling Strategy and Workflow, I’d expect you to know that.’

  ‘I’m gobsmacked that we get all those people visiting the website, and haven’t found a way of making money from it. What sort of strategy is that?’ The Doctor leaned forward. ‘Or is it that maybe – just maybe – making money isn’t what we
are trying to do?’

  Miss Sark’s eyes narrowed. ‘Moving swiftly on to more pressing matters,’ she said, ‘I’d like to talk about the window-cleaning contract…’

  Sir Manning Cross was a contrast to Miss Sark. He slipped into the room almost unnoticed. He was a tall, lean man with a hooked nose and deep-set eyes. The Doctor saw him standing at the side of the room, watching as Miss Sark ended her talk. Sir Manning caught the Doctor’s eye, and for the briefest moment he looked puzzled. Then he smiled. The Doctor smiled back.

  Miss Sark sat down, and Sir Manning walked to the head of the table. ‘Thank you, Miss Sark. An excellent job, as ever. I just wanted to say, very quickly, that this month’s figures are even better than last month’s. My thanks to all of you for that. Our plan is on track, on time, and on budget.’

  ‘Plan?’ the Doctor asked.

  ‘Business plan,’ Miss Sark told him sharply.

  Sir Manning did not seem to hear either of them. ‘Now, if there are no questions…’ It was clear he didn’t expect any. He frowned. ‘Yes?’

  The Doctor had his hand up. ‘Sorry, is it only me? Just one very quick question, if I may? That wasn’t the question, by the way.’

  ‘Yes?’ Sir Manning prompted.

  ‘Why are we spending so much on the computers? Well, there’s the website, I know about that. There’s the special factory producing the Brainy Crisps. There’s the firm’s systems and all that. Still, I think it’s an awful lot of money.’

  Sir Manning tilted his head to one side as he considered. It made him look like a hawk eyeing up its prey. ‘It’s good to invest in new technology,’ he said at last. ‘It’s good to look to the future, don’t you think?’

  ‘Always,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘That doesn’t really answer my question, though, does it?’

  ‘You have so many questions.’ Sir Manning clicked his tongue thoughtfully. ‘But that isn’t a bad thing. The person you need to talk to is Henry. He’s in charge of the computer systems.’

  ‘Henry?’ The Doctor looked round the table. But no one owned up to being Henry.

  ‘He doesn’t come to these meetings,’ Miss Sark said. ‘I have no idea why.’

  ‘Perhaps he finds them a bit boring and useless,’ the Doctor said lightly. ‘Just a thought.’

  Ten minutes later, the meeting room was empty apart from Sir Manning and Miss Sark.

  ‘So who is he?’ Sir Manning wanted to know.

  ‘The Doctor – Doctor Smith. He is the new Manager for Strategy and Workflow.’

  Sir Manning raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t know we had a new Manager for Strategy and Workflow.’

  ‘Neither did I. I thought you must have hired him.’

  Sir Manning shook his head. ‘I don’t even know what Strategy and Workflow means – and neither does he, I suspect.’

  ‘It could be some sort of mix-up,’ Miss Sark said. ‘He seems harmless enough.’

  Sir Manning’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. ‘And you seem human enough. Looks can deceive. We know that more than anyone.’

  ‘Do you want him dealt with?’

  ‘If he’s here to make trouble, it’s clear what his next move will be.’

  Miss Sark smiled. ‘Of course. He’ll go and see Henry.’

  Sir Manning Cross was smiling too. ‘I think we can let Henry deal with him.’

  Chapter Five

  GABBY WAS HAPPY to set up a meeting with Henry, who was Director of Computing. He turned out to be a middle-aged man with thinning dark hair and a beer belly. He was wearing a suit. The Doctor could tell from the stains what Henry had eaten every day for the last week.

  Henry brought his ‘Number Two’ with him. This was a spotty youth called Jeff. He had long greasy hair and was wearing jeans. He looked more like someone on work experience than the deputy to a director. Both of them seemed nervous and awkward as the Doctor waved them to chairs in his office.

  ‘So what’s the problem?’ Henry asked.

  ‘I didn’t say there was a problem,’ the Doctor pointed out.

  Jeff laughed. ‘No one wants to see us unless there’s a problem. What is it? Can’t you log in? Is your screen frozen? Are you getting an error message that makes no sense?’

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘None of the above. I’m fine. I just wanted to have a chat, really. See how it’s going. Find out what I can do to help.’

  ‘Find out what you can do – to help us?’ Henry said. The way he looked at Jeff and the way Jeff looked at him suggested that this was new thinking.

  ‘Well, there was one other thing,’ the Doctor admitted.

  ‘Ah,’ Henry said.

  ‘Knew it,’ Jeff muttered.

  ‘I’d like you to tell me all about the computer systems you have here. You have a huge budget, so what do you spend it on? How much digital power do you have here, and how is it used?’

  Both Henry and Jeff were staring at the Doctor open-mouthed. Their surprise turned to complete astonishment when the Doctor added, ‘I’m interested.’

  Before long, Henry and Jeff were chatting with the Doctor like old friends. He soon had a good idea of how the computer systems worked. He was right – the food firm had a much bigger computer system than it would need just to make crisps. Whatever the Krillitanes were up to, the computer systems must be vital to it.

  The Doctor also realised that Henry and Jeff were both good at their jobs. At least, Henry was great at the technical aspects. He didn’t sound like he could really cope with the management role he’d been given. It was a classic case of someone promoted to the point where they were out of their depth.

  Jeff took over the Doctor’s computer and began to show him some of the firm’s systems. He displayed plans of the computer network, and lists of computer servers. He showed the amount of work each one did and how the jobs were shared out and balanced across the network.

  ‘So most of the computing power is linked in to the Brainy_Crisps website,’ the Doctor said.

  ‘That’s right,’ Jeff agreed.

  ‘But surely it doesn’t need that much power. Not even with all the people who visit the site.’

  ‘The computers have to handle the tests the people do,’ Henry said. ‘But you’re right. It’s strange, we keep adding more and more computer power and still it doesn’t seem to be enough to process all the data that comes back.’

  ‘It’s almost as if that data was a lot more than just simple test results,’ the Doctor said. ‘I think there’s more to this website than the three of us understand.’

  Jeff laughed. ‘It’s just a website with some simple tests so people can check if they’ve got any more brainy after eating the crisps.’

  Henry, however, was nodding. ‘That’s what I think, Doctor. I’m not stupid,’ he went on, ‘and neither is Sir Manning Cross, but he’s given me a job that I’m not really any good at. I have to wonder if that’s on purpose, and if so – why?’

  ‘To stop you looking too closely at what’s going on, perhaps,’ the Doctor said. ‘And to act as a front man, to head off nosy people like me. Unless, of course, you already know what’s going on and this is all a bluff.’

  Jeff was shaking his head. ‘We all know what’s going on. It’s a website, that’s all. So it takes a bit more power to run it than we thought. That’s no surprise really. It’s not the end of the world.’

  The Doctor looked him in the eye. ‘I hope you’re right about that.’

  There was a moment of silence. Then the Doctor clapped his hands together, coming to a decision.

  ‘This website is the key to everything. So let’s have a look at it. Fire it up, please, Jeff. I’m going to take the Brainy Test.’

  ‘OK, so it’s a bit weird,’ Jeff had to admit later.

  It was dark outside, and everyone else seemed to have gone home.

  The Doctor had taken the test. At first it was all simple and what he had been expecting – a few sums, some missing words to fill in, some spot-the-next-sha
pe-in-the-sequence puzzles, and so on.

  After a while, though, the tests changed. It was as if the website had got to know the Doctor was clever enough to solve harder problems.

  It was not a sudden change. The Doctor gradually found that he was getting more and more questions he wouldn’t expect in a normal test. There were really quite tricky questions about DNA and the way it was made. There were boxes where he had to fill in sums to work out how evolution took place. There were problems to solve that the Doctor knew no human being could have devised – or understood.

  But the people who had eaten the Brainy Crisps would be able to do them. This was not a test. This was real, new research on a massive scale.

  ‘How many people use this website?’ the Doctor asked.

  ‘At any time there are over half a million users on the network,’ Jeff said.

  ‘That’s a lot of computer power.’

  ‘You know how much,’ Henry said. ‘We told you earlier.’

  ‘I didn’t mean the machines, I meant the people doing the test.’ The Doctor sat back and thought about his next move. ‘So, who devised this test? Who set it up?’

  ‘The web pages were already built,’ Jeff said. ‘We were given the questions, and we just had to put them on the server so people could get to them on the internet.’

  The Doctor clicked on the web browser. He got back into the firm’s systems and found a way into the secure Accounts area.

  ‘How did you do that?’ Jeff asked, impressed.

  ‘It’s a knack,’ the Doctor said modestly. ‘I was thinking there must be a payment record. Whoever built the website got paid, or had their time billed to it, so there must be a note of that.’

  He found the right folder for the website work, but it refused to open.

  ‘Problem?’ Henry asked.

  ‘Looks like higher management has its own network within the main firm’s systems.’

  ‘That’s right. Even we aren’t allowed access to that.’

  ‘Can you get into it, Doctor?’ Jeff asked eagerly.