Doctor Who BBCN15 - Wooden Heart

by Doctor Who

  Jude could see no eyes or ears or mouth but, again, she knew somehow that this creature – this person – was quite capable of communi-cation, despite the constraints of its surroundings.

  The Doctor, too, was quiet and deferential. He walked further into the room only after a small sort-of bow, his hands slowly fidgeting behind his back. Jude somehow sensed that he was on unknown ground and was about to address an unfamiliar individual; he was, she suddenly decided, the best teacher she had ever encountered, if only because he himself was so keen to keep pushing back the barriers 150

  of his own knowledge and ignorance.

  She wondered what his first words would be, how he would greet this emissary from faraway and perhaps unknowable worlds.

  The Doctor paused, blinking for a moment, and then took another cautious step forward.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

  Of all the things Martha had expected to see in the cave, the last –barring, perhaps, an ice-cream van operated by her father and a crack squad of long-eared elves – was a door and the grinning form of the Dazai. The plain door was set into a cylinder of rock that ran from floor to ceiling in the middle of the chamber; the Dazai stood to one side, clearly both amused and delighted to see Martha and the others.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ exclaimed Martha, as she stood in the centre of the cave, soaking wet, exhausted and still terrified beyond words.

  ‘I went for a walk,’ said the old woman simply. ‘Long ago, I discovered that if you try to reach the far side of the lake, walk through a particular arch way of trees. . . You end up here.’

  Martha shook her head, puzzled and irritated in equal measure.

  She remembered her earlier return from the forest, and the strange topography of the land around the village; perhaps that explained why Petr and Saul seemed to unquestioningly accept what the old woman had just said.

  ‘You’ve been here before, have you?’

  The Dazai nodded, infuriatingly.

  ‘And you didn’t think to tell us about the shortcut? We’ve been attacked, half-eaten, shipwrecked. . . ’

  ‘Petr and Saul needed some time together,’ said the Dazai. ‘There were some. . . matters that needed their undivided attention.’

  ‘Wasn’t there a safer way of doing things?’ asked Martha.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said the Dazai. ‘But it worked, didn’t it?’ And she glanced over at the brothers, who were supporting each other, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders.

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  ‘What’s going on?’ said Martha, dimly aware of the note of hysteria creeping into her voice. ‘What’s this door in aid of? Who are you?’ She felt on the verge of tears, though she wasn’t quite sure why – perhaps it was just having had the rug pulled out from under her feet once too often.

  ‘I’m just someone who follows her instincts,’ said the Dazai. ‘All other forms of knowledge. . . have their limits.’

  ‘Oh, very Zen!’ said Martha.

  The Dazai smiled, the sort of relaxed smile that just made Martha want to go and do something very un-Zen-like. ‘Something told me it was important for the brothers to at least begin the process of rec-onciliation,’ said the Dazai. ‘The land and the people are one, after all.’

  Martha remembered the Doctor having said something similar recently. In fact, now that she thought about it, he was the only other person she’d ever met who could be infuriating and wonderful and frustrating, all in the same breath.

  ‘This is the heart of our world,’ continued the old woman. ‘I come here often to think. Of course, I wasn’t about to tell anyone else that.

  The island, the far side of the shore – they’re all off limits, and rightly so.’ And she nodded and bowed towards Petr, with a glance both recognising and overthrowing his petty laws and regulations.

  ‘And this door?’ Now that Martha looked at it, there was the faintest impression of the space station decor, resembling the shadow of the portal she and the Doctor had seen in the forest. But this was definitely a real, solid, physical door, seemingly carved out of the same stone as the surrounding pillar.

  ‘It has never opened for me,’ said the Dazai. ‘I am a part of this world, and am constrained by it. You, on the other hand. . . ’ And she gestured to the great stone door with her pale, bony hand.

  Martha stepped forward uncertainly. She was suddenly reminded of the Disney King Arthur film she’d seen as a kid, and was grateful that there wasn’t any sword to pull out of this particular stone, or some other expected show of strength. In fact, she couldn’t see anything remotely resembling a handle, or hinges, or a doorknob. It was simply 152

  one great slab of stone set inside a similar vertical block.

  She paused, aware of everyone’s eyes on her, and let her hand rest on the rock. The pillar pulsed imperceptibly; it was as if she was resting her palm on the outer covering of some vast and distant machine.

  Moments later there was a click. The entire door, now a centimetre proud of the surrounding stone, was edged with a pinkish brightness.

  Martha took a step backwards, and the door swung open further. Beyond it Martha could see only pulsing red light. Given that the rocky structure was about the same width as the TARDIS, Martha wasn’t sure if this was some sort of teleport, or if it led to impossible rooms

  – or if it was simply a brightly lit, hollowed-out space.

  ‘Go on,’ said the Dazai, her voice calm and soothing.

  Martha stepped into the light, and immediately everything around her changed. She found herself in a rounded room, criss-crossed with a web of wires and tubes, dominated by an impossible, floating creature. To one side stood the Doctor; to the other, Saul’s daughter, diminutive, but brave, despite her surroundings.

  ‘Doctor!’ she cried out in unabashed delight, ignoring her surroundings, ignoring everything, and running towards him. She threw her arms around him, laughing.

  The Doctor smiled, feigning a casual indifference. ‘I was wondering if you were going to turn up!’

  ‘Why?’

  The Doctor did not respond. Instead, a voice, a whisper, pushed its way into Martha’s mind; as clear as a struck bell, as quiet as a recalled memory.

  Now we are all together.

  Martha saw Jude turn away from the pulsing creature at the centre of the room. ‘That voice,’ she said to the Doctor. ‘It sounds like the angel.’

  ‘It’s similar, yes,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘Angel?’ queried Martha.

  ‘There’s a creature on this station,’ explained the Doctor. ‘A dark angel, you could say – the sum of human evil.’

  ‘The moving signal on the scanner. . . ’

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  The Doctor nodded. ‘Imbued with the life of two universes, the ship could – near enough – keep track of the creature. Just as it appears to hover between our reality and another, so the Castor’s instruments can pick up its intermittent signals.’

  ‘It’s attacked the Doctor twice,’ said Jude simply. ‘And me once,’ she added. She shivered. ‘It was horrible.’

  ‘We should have died, been torn apart by our own desires and fears and capacity for evil,’ continued the Doctor.

  ‘What happened?’ Martha asked.

  The Doctor turned to the creature hanging in the centre of the room.

  Martha noticed that even he was unsure which appendage or protu-berance he should be addressing; he made do with a little nod of courtesy. ‘I was hoping you could answer that,’ he said.

  The creature shifted slightly, changing the angle of its eternal rotation.

  Your friend decided to stay in the unreal world. I have rarely seen such bravery.

  The Doctor winked at Martha. ‘I’m not surprised,’ he said, turning back to the creature. ‘You have only seen the very worst side of human nature. As I said before. . . I’m truly sorry.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ whispered Martha.

  The Doctor turned on the spot, indicating the e
ntire chamber with his outstretched arms. ‘This is the heart of the Castor – and this is its ultimate prisoner. Its ultimate experiment.’ He spat the last word with distaste.

  I was a traveller through the dimensions. Creatures captured me, tortured me, kept me here.

  ‘Why?’ asked Martha.

  The Doctor replied. ‘Our friend has many unique properties. One of them is the ability to soak up emotions and memories and instincts.

  If you’re a traveller or a researcher it beats taking notes, I suppose.

  Anyway, some human scientists captured him. They decided, if they attached the right technology, they could take people of unthinkable evil. . . and tame them. They wanted to hook them up, suck out the evil, and make them good again!’

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  ‘But the Doctor believes good and evil are choices we make, not. . .

  flaws in our minds,’ said Jude quietly.

  The Doctor nodded energetically, like a teacher commending a pupil. ‘Even if it had worked,’ he said, ‘you’re only making as many problems as you’re trying to solve. You strip away some memories, fair enough – but unless you replace the human mind with a robot brain, you’ve still got the problem of free will. As Jude says, life is all about the decisions we make – to flee from evil, or to confront it. To jump through a door, or to stay behind because someone needs you.’

  And he smiled at Martha once more.

  And I could not stand the evil that flowed into me. . .

  The Doctor rested a hand on the insubstantial creature. It solidified, then seemed to disappear, then blinked back into existence again.

  ‘Our friend is more than a mere sponge,’ said the Doctor. ‘Imagine what it was forced to endure, to witness – to experience even. Every killing, every crime, every evil desire, lived and relived, over and over again.’

  I had to get rid of the evil. I had to find a way to. . . stay sane.

  Martha nodded. ‘And so this angel creature. . . ’

  As if on cue, a dark, shrouded shape flowed through the solid wall and pooled in a corner. It was tall and wraith-like; Martha reckoned the ‘dark angel’ description was as good as any.

  ‘An attempt to expel all the evil,’ said the Doctor. ‘But eventually it took on a life of its own – an evil life, of course. The prisoners and staff who didn’t turn on each other were. . . butchered. . . by this

  “dark angel”. Butchered from within.’

  The creature in the heart of the chamber shifted again, changing colour slightly as if indicating its state of mind.

  I can’t always control it. I did not want to kill, but. . . There was nothing I could do.

  There was a pause, Martha finding herself transfixed by the awful shadow in the corner of the room. Was it her imagination, or was it becoming darker, and seemingly taking on a more solid form? Moment by moment, was it inching closer to them?

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  I needed another outlet. Another. . . arena, in which I could explore my feelings. What I had experienced, what I had seen. . .

  ‘The village!’ exclaimed Martha.

  The Doctor smiled. ‘A free space in which humanity could be explored, analysed and observed.’

  ‘So it’s like playing The Sims – but with real people.’

  ‘Exactly – thought made flesh! The bubble world is partly powered by an entirely different dimension, maintained and guided by the Castor’s last prisoner.’ The Doctor again turned to the floating mass in the centre of the room, smiling as if greeting a long-lost friend. ‘In our universe, you have so many powers – so much insight, so much to offer. . . And they kept you trapped in the dark, a creature to be experimented on. A creature to be used.’

  The one thing I could not do was escape. I am now a part of this place, and it is part of me. I could only experience life through the world I had created. . .

  ‘But isn’t that amazing?’ exclaimed the Doctor, wheeling around like a theatrical showman. ‘Over the years. . . Life gave birth to life, life evolved and changed. . . Life became real and sentient, capable of great emotion – capable of true choice. Capable of good and evil!’

  It was once an innocent world, a world with parameters. They are breaking down. . .

  ‘That’s a good thing,’ said the Doctor, draping an arm around Jude.

  ‘Take my friend Jude here. She’s thinking for herself, she’s making her own choices. . . She can even leave her world and exist within this ship!’ He puffed out his cheeks, a picture of simple delight. ‘You know, life never ceases to amaze me!’

  ‘That’s all very well,’ said Martha, ‘but in Jude’s world, the children are disappearing.’

  Energy, said the creature simply. It is all slipping away from me. . .

  ‘The Castor has been in this dark area of space for too long,’ said the Doctor. ‘It’s running out of power. Even a strict regime of day and night hasn’t solved the problem. So the children have disappeared, the geography of the world has been truncated and looped. . . ’

  ‘Why the children?’ asked Martha. ‘You said earlier that it was just 156

  random. So why not adults or babies – or even the monsters in the forest?’

  The Doctor threw his arms around Jude again. ‘When you’re a kid, your mind is bursting with fears and dreams and daft ideas! You can believe six impossible things before breakfast, and still have room for a multitude more!’

  ‘Children require more energy than adults,’ observed Martha.

  ‘You ask any parent,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘And with our friend here running out of processing power. . . Desperate times call for desperate measures.’

  ‘So the children simply disappeared. . . ’

  The Doctor nodded. ‘Like files deleted from a hard drive.’

  ‘But why did we see them?’ said Jude. The figures in the fog. . . ’

  The creature stirred again, what appeared to be veins just under its skin taking on a purple hue.

  I wanted to show. . . compassion. I had to offer hope. . .

  ‘But at the same time,’ the Doctor went on, ‘the creator of Jude’s world knew it was a dangerous strategy. It could run out of energy –it could die – at almost any minute.’

  ‘Taking the bubble world with it,’ said Martha. ‘No wonder the prophecies were so gloomy.’

  I need energy from this universe as well as my own. I have persisted and struggled. . . but to no avail.

  ‘You’ve got to keep trying!’ said the Doctor.

  Perhaps it is time for all this to end. To maintain the world, to protect you from the evil thoughts I expelled. . .

  Martha glanced over at the shadow creature. It was only a few metres away now, and seemingly bigger than ever.

  I’m so tired. Perhaps I should just let it all end.

  ‘No!’ said the Doctor urgently. ‘Hundreds of lives rely on you. You can’t just give in.’

  It was an interesting experiment. I have seen some good, some love, some positive choices being made. . . But I do not think them sufficient to balance the evil I have experienced.

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  ‘You can’t mean that,’ said the Doctor. Martha noticed that Jude was clinging to him now, her precociousness overtaken by simple, understandable fear. ‘You can’t allow an entire culture to die!’

  The dark shadow creature, and the vast prisoner suspended in the centre of the room, began to pulse as one.

  Do not worry, came the same calm, measured voice in Martha’s mind. It will be painless.

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  Martha couldn’t move. At first she thought the creature suspended in the centre of the room had, like some legendary Gorgon, turned her to stone. Then she wondered if it wasn’t simply shock

  – shock prompted by the uncomplicated way the quiet voice had announced the death of an entire world.

  Slowly, however, she became aware of someone standing behind her. ‘Don’t worry,’ came the voice. ‘Everything will be all right.’

  The voice was human – and full of qu
iet confidence and subtle determination.

  With great effort Martha was able to twist her head; behind her stood the Dazai. For the second time that day, the old woman’s simple, uncomplicated presence was a source of both relief and consternation.

  ‘How long have you been there?’ Martha asked.

  ‘Long enough to understand what’s going on.

  Long enough to

  know. . . ’ The Dazai looked around the room with its pooled red lights and criss-crossed wires with something like awe clear on her face. ‘I’m not sure I believe in God, but one thing I understand – as far as my people are concerned, I am in the presence of our Creator.’

  Behind the Dazai was a column of light, approximately the size and shape of the pillar of rock in the cave. When the old woman entirely 159

  stepped through, it faded from sight.

  So tired, came the voice in Martha’s mind. I want to end it all.

  ‘Nonsense!’ said the Dazai, striding forward with surprising speed.

  ‘How can a creature as wonderful as you ever be tired of life?’

  The Doctor seemed energised by the Dazai’s hopefulness; with arms almost flapping in delight, and entirely ignoring the black shadow that was nearly within touching distance, he hopped from foot to foot in front of the creature. ‘She’s right, you know! You’ve seen some terrible things, and it’s little wonder that you wonder about the value of life itself, but. . . surely the glimmers of triumphant free will, the acts of bravery and courage. . . ’

  They are not enough. Things are still skewed to darkness.

  ‘I refuse to believe that,’ said the Dazai firmly. ‘I have lived for many, many years. Some say I am as old as the village. I know for sure that I have seen many strange and contradictory things. But I also know that light conquers darkness – given time.’

  A tired saying. Your words are hollow and empty. I do not believe them.