Autonomy

by Doctor Who

  'Oh, no, no, no.' The Doctor started pacing up and down.

  'You must think I'm stupid. You must think I'm Mr Thick from Thicksville, Thickasee. You see, I know a little bit about computer networks. And earlier on, before Shaneeqi's party, I had a little root around in your Central Program.' He stopped pacing, grinned at Miss Devonshire.

  'Elizabeth!' Max Carson groaned desperately. His wrist was turning white where the Auton-waitress gripped it.

  She ignored him. 'Explain yourself, Doctor.'

  'And not only did I have a little root around,' the Doctor said, 'I put a little extra of my own in there. A little trigger.

  You see, I like to talk, Miss Devonshire. I talk a lot.' The Doctor strode over to her laptop.

  'Stop him!' she snarled.

  The Auton-waitress dropped Max, who sprawled on the floor, and started striding towards the Doctor.

  He leaned in to the microphone. 'I talk a lot, and I often talk a lot of rubbish!'

  The screen flared green.

  The gentle green light inside the pod became an incandescent, harsh whitish-green, and the Autons, clutching their heads, staggered around in inelegant pirouettes. Miss Devonshire's mouth opened in silent horror.

  And then a sound began to issue from the Consciousness itself, a deep, angry scream as if torn from the pits of hell, like the sound of shearing metal mixed with the screeches of demons.

  The doll attaching itself to Reece suddenly sprang off, as if 175

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  pulled by an invisible thread, and smacked against the wall. The dolls clutching Kate slackened their grip too, just as Sir Gerry got the internal door open.

  'Come on!' Kate yelled.

  They piled through the door. Kate went through last, pulling the door hard behind her. She was sure she heard a thump as the little bodies hurled themselves against the metal, and she wondered how long it would hold.

  Feeling heat on her back, she turned round.

  It was as if she had walked straight into a sauna - the heat and humidity were unbearable. The other side of the door from which they had emerged appeared to lead into a ramshackle wooden barber's shop surmounted by a red-and-white pole. Blinking, Kate shaded her eyes and looked around in what she told herself had to be artificial sunlight. She could smell dust, and wood, and could see a dry street lined with wooden buildings and lamp posts stretching out in front of her. A crudely painted wooden sign on a pole read 'Welcome to One Horse Town'. She could see other signs in blocky lettering swinging eerily in the light breeze. They said BANK and ASSAY OFFICE and SHERIFF on one side, while on the other the buildings proclaimed themselves to be MA'S PLACE, the SHOOTERS'

  SALOON and the GUN STORE. There was a distant sound of chirruping cicadas.

  Hills and rocks clustered in the bright distance, peppered with spiky cacti. Behind the buildings was a battered rail track, leading to a station at which the wooden Hyperville Train with its bright blue locomotive could be seen at rest -driverless for now.

  Kate knew straight away what look they were aiming for here - the clichéd, Western-movie version of an American 176

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  frontier town, looking exactly the way people expected it to because this was what they had seen hundreds of times before. Whether any of it was accurate or not was totally beside the point. It was pretty convincing, she thought -

  this part of Hyperville must have cost millions.

  Sir Gerry wiped his sweating brow with a spotted handkerchief. 'No idea,' he said, 'how much we lost through having to close this Zone down. It was one of our biggest attractions.'

  'Are we sure they're not gonna get through?' Chantelle asked worriedly, backing away from the barber's shop.

  That door's reinforced dura-titanium, lass,' said Sir Gerry with grim satisfaction. 'One thing to thank Health and Safety for.'

  Kate stood, hands on hips, and surveyed the landscape.

  She felt the angry prickle of sweat under her armpits, and would have been uncomfortable but for the fact that Sir Gerry, Reece and Chantelle looked equally drenched. Only Shaneeqi was managing to look pale and cool, and had slipped a pair of shades on.

  'You all right, Shaneeqi?' Kate asked awkwardly.

  'Fine,' she said, in a small, distant voice. Her shades made her eyes unreadable.

  Reece and Chantelle looked awkwardly at one another.

  'OK. We can't keep running,' said Kate. 'We need to fight back. Chantelle - tell me about that little armoury in your handbag.'

  Sir Gerry sighed. 'I need a drink,' he said, nodding towards the Saloon.

  'You won't be able to get one, will you?' asked Chantelle interestedly. 'Not a real one?'

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  Sir Gerry chuckled. 'Don't you bank on it, m'dear. I know the tricks of this place, don't forget. Come on!'

  The SherwoodZone was silent and deserted. A dim, reddish light shone through the artificial trees, making it look as if the foliage had been steeped in blood. The Marian-bot and the Robin-bot lay inert where they had been left in the clearing.

  There was a rustle in the undergrowth, and two contrasting figures stalked out. Paul Kendrick, immaculate in his designer suit and tie, looking almost human again but for the faint red glow in his eyes.

  And beside him, the one Max and Miss Devonshire had referred to as Beta-4 - the plump, sinister toddler-Auton with the blonde hair and glossy black face.

  Their eyes were sweeping left and right, scanning every centimetre of the forest.

  'Find all the remaining organics,' said Kendrick in an emotionless voice. 'All organics within the perimeter zone must be eliminated.'

  Beta-4 turned her head to look up at him, and her rigid dummy-face creaked, her plastic face stretching into a smile. The low chuckle emanated from deep within her again.

  'Program

  adjustment

  for

  appropriate

  emotional

  responses?

  Excellent,'

  said

  Kendrick

  with

  grim

  satisfaction. 'In other words, Beta-4 -I think you're enjoying this.'

  The Doctor tapped out a sharp rhythm on the keyboard.

  He

  glanced

  up.

  Miss

  Devonshire

  and

  the

  Auton-waitresses were on their knees, clutching at their heads as a screaming, whining noise echoed through the chamber.

  The Doctor smacked his forehead with his hand. 'Oh, no,

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  no, no. Hang on. That's induced an overload. I didn't align the parameters correctly!'

  'Step away from the keyboard.'

  It was one of the Auton-waitresses, speaking impassively with the voice of the Consciousness, her wrist-gun levelled unsteadily at the Doctor.

  'Ah. Suzanne. Or is it Joanne? Won't be a moment.'

  'Step away from the keyboard]'

  'Or what? Or you'll kill me? If you want to kill me, why haven't you killed me, Suzanne? Aha!' The Doctor grinned.

  'You're frightened you might damage something. Powerful digit you've got there. Packs quite a punch. Tell you what...

  How about we overload the overload?!' The Doctor punched a key with panache. 'Cowabunga!' He looked disconcerted.

  'I don't believe I just said that.'

  The pod flared with light.

  The Autons staggered, and Miss Devonshire turned towards the light, as if drawn to it magnetically.

  For a moment the Doctor seemed uncertain. Then he took a decision, and started running for the lift.

  Max looked from the Pod and Miss Devonshire to the Doctor - then, as if deciding in an instant where his destiny lay, picked himself up and ran after him.

  The Doctor aimed his sonic screwdriver at the lift-call button, his feet pounding on the floor. As he reached the far side of Level Zero, the loud ping announcing the lif
t's arrival echoed through the vast space.

  The doors slid open and the Doctor threw himself inside.

  Max followed, rubbing his injured wrists.

  The Doctor did a double take. 'You?'

  Max nodded, gasping. He pressed himself against the other

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  side of the lift, watching the Doctor warily. He was no longer the suave vision of calm that had first appeared to the Doctor - now, his collar was loose, his tie was askew and his pale face was slicked with sweat.

  The lift doors slid shut, cutting off the hideous screeching, and the lift began to ascend.

  The Doctor nodded to Max. 'OK. Nicely done,' he said. 'I always thought you'd be the type to save your own skin...

  By the way, I don't mean to be personal, but you really need a good antiperspirant.'

  Max sneered and drew his slim, silver pistol. 'You're going to get me to Sir Gerry's helipad, Doctor. That's the only way out of this madhouse now.'

  'Oh.' The Doctor, hands in pockets, looked a little disappointed. 'I was hoping for a little more humility.

  Something along the lines of, thank you for saving my life, Doctor. Yes, I see you're right, now, Doctor. No good can come of consorting with the Nestene Consciousness, Doctor, no matter how much money they offer me. Sorry, Doctor... No? Nothing like that? Don't you even want to know what I did?'

  Max shook his head. 'Some kind of audio-triggered virus, I expect. Does it matter?'

  The Doctor grinned. 'Well, yes, it does. Because it hasn't done any damage. Not seriously. Just gave them a nasty migraine while I thought of the next stage in my plan. Give them thirty minutes. Miss Devonshire will pop the Nestene equivalent of a couple of ibuprofen in, and they'll be away again. And then we really will be in trouble.'

  'Why?' asked Max cautiously.

  'Because they'll be really, really miffed.' He nodded at 180

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  the gun. 'And I expect they've got one or two guarding the helipad. So do us both a favour, Maxie-boy, and put the peashooter away.'

  Carson stared at him for a moment, teeth clenched, sweating.

  'You don't really believe all that stuff Miss Devonshire was saying, do you?' the Doctor asked him. 'About finding a new breeding ground and going away and leaving the Earth alone?

  'I said I'd help them,' said Max softly. 'Four years, and they've given me everything I needed.' He slumped against the lift wall, but kept the gun trained on the Doctor. 'I was going to retire to Barbados.'

  'Been there. Overrated. They want this place, Max. They want it because the molecular structure of its plastics and CFCs and oils and artificial gels is brilliant for them.

  Humans are too imaginative, that's always been their problem. Attracts attention. And this place, it's perfect.'

  'Perfect?' said Max uncertainly.

  'It's like food and a home and a breeding ground all in one. It's the perfect base. They won't leave. They won't leave until they've spread their tentacles out from Hyperville, and turned your planet into Plastic-World.' The Doctor stared at Max. 'Don't you know any of this stuff?'

  Max tutted. The Nestenes are my employers, Doctor. I was almost ruined when Miss Devonshire found me. Have you any idea what it's like to go from success to failure so quickly? From boom to bust? Then an investor comes along and offers to bankroll you for four years. I've got an apartment on the Wharf. Three sports cars. All the designer goods I want.' He grinned. 'Why would I question their motives?'

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  The Doctor sighed, folded his arms. 'Humans. Nothing ever changes, does it?'

  Max stared at the Doctor for a moment longer, as if wondering whether to challenge the comment. Then he made an exasperated sound and pocketed the gun. 'What are you going to do?' he asked.

  'What I should have done when all this started,' said the Doctor. 'Get rid of the Autons -and close this place down!'

  He grinned. 'Cheer up, Maxie. In a week's time you could be lying in your hammock and drinking your light rum and pineapple juice.'

  The cluster of spheres, pulsing in perfect unison, had reached the orbit of Mars.

  They continued to pulse, and to come closer, sliding effortlessly through space with no visible means of propulsion.

  They knew exactly where they were going.

  As if they were alive.

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  'Thisis Hyperville.

  This is Hyperville.

  Shop.

  Dream.

  Shop.

  'Dream.

  Shop...'

  The Doctor burst into the control centre and made a dash for Max's podium. Max followed with a slightly wobbly gait.

  Max Carson's heart was pounding. Everything he had thought and believed for the past few years was being slowly undermined. He was starting to think that escape was his only option, and he knew he had to find some way of getting to that helicopter. Barbados. It still had to be an option.

  'What are you going to do, Doctor?' he asked.

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  The Doctor had a quick glance up at the wall of TV screens, but they were nearly all swirling with static. Those which were still relaying images of Hyperville were blurry and flickering.

  The Doctor put his glasses on and ducked under Max's console. 'A bit of rejigging of your old CCTV, Max.' He poked his head up above the console. 'Blimey. Not exactly high-definition any more, is it?'

  Max shrugged. The power's fluctuating,' he said. He wasn't sure if that was the reason, but he guessed.

  The Doctor yanked some wires out of a panel under the console. 'Bit of recalibration.' He gave the circuitry a couple of carefully applied bursts with his sonic device. 'Just some fine-tuning. Bad news, Max. You might not be able to get the shopping channel now.'

  The screens flickered, and about six of them crackled into sharp relief, leaving the others totally dark.

  'Aha!' The Doctor leapt up, grinning and giving the console a thump for effect. He peered in at one of the images. 'Hang on.

  They look familiar. Where's that?'

  That's Wild West World,' Max admitted. 'We had it sealed off.'

  'Because it was dangerous, I assume.' The Doctor sighed, watching the image of Kate, Reece, Chantelle, Sir Gerry and Shaneeqi making their way down the dusty street towards the Saloon Bar. 'Right!' the Doctor exclaimed, spinning Max's laptop round to face him. 'Deal with that in a minute. Central Program, online... let's take a look.'

  'What are you doing, Doctor?' Max asked.

  I inserted a trigger-word through one of the subroutines, but they've closed off that access now... Not surprising.' The Doctor talked as his fingers flickered over the keyboard.

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  'Ohhhhh, they're good. They're goody-good-good. Not taken them long to get to grips with the changes in Earth technology... Clever, clever Nestenes.' The Doctor glanced up at Max. They've got you pretty much under their plastic thumb. Under their tentacles. Haven't they? Miss Devonshire owns you.'

  Max tried to quell the anger he felt. 'I am a man who works for a company, Doctor. Many do worse in the name of capitalism.'

  'Still,' said the Doctor, 'I know you've done bad things. I can tell by looking at you.'

  Max closed his eyes for a moment.

  He remembered Andrea Watson, struggling as the Plastinol spread up her legs from her boots, merging with her skirt, engulfing her in one glossy black tide of plastic...

  He remembered giving the order to clear two bodies away from the maintenance tunnels, and for the families of the two men to be told they had died through an electrical fault. Just like the other one...

  'Yes,' he said softly. 'I've done bad things. For them.'

  The Doctor didn't look at him. They always find someone,' he said softly, almost to himself. 'You're not the real enemy, Carson. They are.'

  Max opened his eyes. He watched the Doctor work in grudging admira
tion. 'Who do you work for?'

  'Oh, just me.'

  'You seem very highly skilled yourself.'

  'Phhww.' The Doctor made a modest sound. 'Just experience... You know, when I first met the Nestenes, they were tuned into Seventies retro. Telephones, coloured vinyl, hideous troll-dolls.' The Doctor looked up, stared into the

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  distance for a moment. 'And some really, really horrible nylon shirts.' He pulled a face. 'Mind you, I can talk. I used to dress like Jimi Hendrix... Then by the Nineties they'd got to grips with CDs. Do you know there's a hidden track under the sound mix on one of the Spice Girls albums, and when you play it back, it says "The Nestene Consciousness will prevail"?'

  Max looked confused. They put that in?'

  The Doctor looked at him. 'No, no, I put that in. To throw them off the scent. And now, there's so much more plastic-based stuff in the world... so many more ways for them to gain a hold... Aha!' He thumped the space bar with a flourish, baring his teeth in delight. 'Voila!'

  'What is it?' Max asked.

  The signal Miss Devonshire was talking about. Routed through the TV satellite dish on top of the FunGlobe.

  Thought as much.'

  Max folded his arms. 'I could have told you that.'

  The Doctor grinned. 'Yes. But I wouldn't have known you were telling the truth. I don't like you, Max. And I never trust someone who swaps sides at half-time. It's an old trick, and it never gets you anywhere.' The Doctor's eyes suddenly widened as he looked over Max's shoulder. 'Look out!'

  Max Carson folded his arms. 'Doctor, if you think I'm going to fall—'

  The Doctor hurled him aside as a sizzling crimson bolt cut across the room, smelling like burning metal and smashing into the TV screens. Several of them exploded into crimson droplets. Another blast, and Max's computer had a sizzling hole punched right through the screen.

  Beta-4 stood there, her little eyes glowing with malice.

  And behind her was Paul Kendrick.

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  Told you so!' said the Doctor softly, edging a couple of paces away from the burning laptop.

  The Auton toddler and the footballer stepped away from the door, heading in separate directions, moving around the control gallery.