The two men laughed in perfect unison.
Mr Symington continued: ‘How would you feel if you could get an extra hour any time you liked? That’s right, an extra hour to play golf, to polish up that report for your boss, to spend time with your girlfriend or indeed boyfriend - we don’t want to appear prejudiced, do we, Mr Blenkinsop? - or just to sleep late? Think what that could do for you - an extra hour! Can’t you just imagine it, Mr Blenkinsop?’
‘Why, yes I can, Mr Symington. Just think of it.
Every businessman or businesswoman knows that, sometimes, an hour before breakfast is worth three hours in the afternoon. Take today, for example. Wouldn’t you happily, eagerly, give up the rest of the day just to have had two extra hours this morning? Imagine if you could manage your time like that!’ Mr Blenkinsop nudged him in the ribs sharply. ‘There’d be no stopping you climbing up the career ladder then, would there, Mr Brown?’
Andrew blinked at the two men. There was something a little odd about their appearance - not their clothes, which were ordinary, conservative business suits - but their very being. They were fuzzy at the edges. When he tried to focus on their faces, they became blurred. It really was a most disturbing sensation.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ve got so much work to do, and the day’s gone horribly wrong already. Do you have something to sell me? A book on time-management, is that it?’
Mr Symington and Mr Blenkinsop smiled at each other and turned back to Andrew.
‘Better than that.’
‘Far, far better than that.’
‘Mr Brown, we can loan you time.’
‘That’s right, Mr Brown. We can lend you as much time as you need. As much time as you can handle. As much time as you could ever desire.’
‘We can lend you enough time to get all your preparation done for this morning’s meeting. The time to spend with friends and family. The time to get ahead of… what’s her name, Mr Blenkinsop?’
‘Sameera Jenkins, Mr Symington. Nasty little upstart.
Unlike our friend Mr Brown.’
‘Deserves what’s coming to her, if you ask me. And Mr Brown will give it to her. He just needs a little help.
Now of course, Mr Brown, that time will have to be paid back.’
‘At what we think you’ll agree,’ muttered Mr Blenkinsop, just a little too fast for Andrew to fully catch, ‘is a very reasonable rate of interest.’
‘Imagine what it could do for your career. All the time you want, Mr Brown, at the touch of a button.’
They paused. The men turned to Andrew and looked at him, as if daring him to call them liars. And suddenly, Andrew Brown felt very angry. Here he was, on the worst day of his life, and these two jokers were playing him for a fool.
‘Loan me… What on earth are you talking about?
Look, how did you get in here? Who are you? You’d better show me some identification, or I’m going to call security!’
‘He doesn’t believe us, Mr Symington.’
‘They so rarely do, Mr Blenkinsop.’
‘I think a demonstration is in order, Mr Symington.’
‘Certainly is, Mr Blenkinsop.’
And from his back pocket, Mr Symington produced his demonstration. And then everything became very clear indeed to Andrew Brown.
Chapter
2
The sunset, it seemed to Amy, had been going on for about five hundred years. She stared at it some more. Rory’s arm was around her shoulders, they were snuggled up together on a picnic blanket. They were on a beach covered with white-gold sand. Tiny blue-green iridescent crabs scuttled at the water’s edge. Fifty-first-century Earth had certainly cleaned up since her day - there was no litter anywhere in sight. Out at sea, a dolphin occasionally crested the surface of the ocean, leaping for the pure joy of being alive. The sunset was ochre and amber, a glorious warm light spreading across the sky and reflected ripplingly in the water. Even the scent of the place was gorgeous, all coconut and tropical flowers.
It was, as far as she knew, literally the most romantic place in space and time. And she was bored.
‘How long has this sunset been going on now?’
Rory flinched.
‘The whole point is not to think about time, Amy.
Just -‘ he breathed in deeply and breathed out slowly -
‘relax. Drink it in.’
Amy wriggled her shoulders. Stopped staring at the sunset. Stopped watching the tiny crabs frolicking at her toes. Turned instead and stared at Rory.
‘But seriously,’ she said slowly. ‘How. Long?’
She stared into his eyes, unblinking. It was a game they’d played since they were children. Seeing who could go longest without blinking. She always won.
Rory blinked. He hadn’t even been trying.
He looked down at the Super Lucky Romance Camera: Capture the Moment!™ on the picnic blanket next to him.
‘Um,’ he said, ‘I think it’s been about three hours?
This sunset? About three hours?’
‘Three. Hours?!’
Amy stood up and stalked over to the edge of their Super Lucky Romance Bubble, the place where the air shimmered slightly. She kicked at it. The Super Lucky Romance Bubble wobbled, making the view of the infinitely prolonged sunset wobble too. The Bubble was about twenty metres wide and about forty metres tall at its highest point. A lovely large space to play in. If you weren’t already very bored.
‘And how much longer is it going on for?’
Rory consulted the Super Lucky Romance Camera.
‘Doesn’t say. It’s… I think it’s supposed to be a surprise?’
Amy let out a growl and flung herself onto her back on the picnic blanket. Rory stretched out a consoling hand.
‘It’s supposed to be romantic… You, me, a single moment of time prolonged for several hours so we can
fully experience it here in our little bubble… and…
didn’t mind so much the other day when we…’
Rory’s brain finally got the message to his mouth that he should Just Stop Talking. Amy looked at Rory’s hand hovering just above her shoulder. He wondered if she was literally going to bite him.
She sat up.
‘No, Rory, I didn’t mind it the other day. And it was interesting when we paused that shoal of flying fish in mid-flight, and it was exciting when we used it mid parachute-jump, but I do mind a sunset that goes on for Three Damn Hours. OK?’
‘Yes,’ he said, miserably.
The Super Lucky Romance Camera: Capture the Moment!™ clicked away another minute of perfect, preserved time. It brought up a little image of its advertising on its screen. ‘Want to make your precious times last longer? The Super Lucky Romance Camera, with its patented Time Bubble technology will make every minute seem like a day! With a guaranteed reliable Eternity Perpetual cosmic radiation battery, it never needs to be recharged. Take it to the beach! Underwater diving! Even to the top of New York’s Ascendancy Tower! It’s certified to 2,750 metres above sea level! Your moments are too precious to slip by. Really experience them, with the Super Lucky Romance Camera, invented on Earth in 5044, and now used on over thirty planets, galaxy-wide. Super Lucky Romance Camera: Capture the Moment… For Ever.’
Taking a romantic holiday on fifty-first-century Earth had seemed such a good idea when the Doctor suggested it. Should give them time to get acquainted
with the future of their species, he’d said, which was surely the purpose of the whole - he’d waved his hands abstractly - love business anyway? He had a few things to do, he’d come and pick them up in… ohhh, three weeks sound all right?
Three weeks hadn’t sounded long enough by half to Rory - they were on future Earth, on holiday, with no monsters chasing them. Surely they’d need more time than that just to get used to driving flying cars and breathing unpolluted air. Not to mention spending time with each other, away from the Doctor. So when the smiling, friendly girl behind the desk - very friendly indeed, to both him
and Amy, that seemed to be the way here in 5087 - had said there was a way to prolong their stay as long as they liked, Rory had snapped it up.
That had been six days ago. In external time, that is. But every time they used the Super Lucky Romance Camera, it created a time bubble around them. The way the agent had explained it, time inside the bubble speeded up, so that relatively, things outside the bubble seemed slowed down. Hence, skydiving that seemed to take thirty minutes to reach the ground, scuba diving for hours with fish that glided past in super-slow speed.
And now, the sunset. The very, very slow sunset.
Amy kicked at the sand while Rory flicked through the electronic guidebook to Your Vacation on Scenic Earth they’d given him at the tourist information desk.
The cities of Earth were all documented, the mountains and lakes and the wonderful smooth beaches of Old Tokyo. Hmmm. He hadn’t spotted this section on ‘dangers of the beach’ before. He started reading. Eight tiny crabs ran over his leg.
‘Amy…’ he said after a few minutes, ‘what does that sign look like to you?’
He pointed at a sign about 200 metres down the beach. Amy peered at it. There were a few small blob-like shapes on the animated sign, moving inside a red circle.
‘It’d be a lot easier to see without this bubble in the way!’ She kicked at the bubble again.
‘Does it look like… a lot of little crabs, to you?’
‘Oh yeah! That’s what it is!’
In a hollow place by the end of their picnic blanket, thirty tiny jewelled crabs were swarming.
Rory showed Amy the page in the guidebook.
‘Mutant reproducing crabs,’ it said, ‘a beautiful but occasionally tiresome addition to the beach, left over from rampant genetic engineering in the last century.
The crabs were created to gnaw out the otherwise indestructible hulks of marine vessels used in the Fifth World War. They live on silica, which makes the beach their natural home, and are generally harmless.
However, in an enclosed space, they will begin to reproduce extremely rapidly, their numbers doubling every five minutes. It is important not to erect a tent on a crab nest - if you find that you have done so, dismantle the tent immediately or risk a nasty bite from a swarm of the crustaceans.’
As Amy finished reading, Rory pointed to the little nest of iridescent crabs. They watched it together. Every now and then one of the crabs would grow an extra claw, then two claws, then a lump off its body, and then a whole new crab - conjoined for a second before finally splitting off.
‘They’re doubling every five minutes?’ asked Amy Rory nodded.
One of the crabs unfolded the shell on the back of its body to reveal a pair of wings, like a ladybird’s, and took off into the air.
‘They can fly?’ said Amy.
As if in answer, six or seven more of the creatures took off and began to buzz noisily around the time bubble. One of them hit the edge of the bubble and immediately split into two crabs.
‘When is this bubble going to open?!’ shouted Amy.
In the nest at the end of the picnic blanket, fifty jewelled crabs had become a hundred. Or two hundred.
More were taking off every minute, bumping into the side, doubling. One of them buzzed towards Amy. She batted it away with her arm and shouted with pain - it had left a long laceration.
A swarm was airborne now, flying angrily, buzzing into the walls of the time bubble.
‘Rory!’ shouted Amy, above the loud annoyed hum, ‘when is it going to open?’
‘I don’t know!’ shouted Rory, as the swarm wheeled round and headed for them.
Rory picked up the beach umbrella and tried to fend them off. The sharp, silica-shredding claws, instantly ripped the top of it to tatters.
Amy rummaged through her beach bag, at last finding her mobile phone.
‘What are you doing?!’ Rory shouted.
‘I’m calling the Doctor!’ said Amy.
‘Wait, but… we can…’
The swarm bounced against the side of the bubble
again, doubled again.
He’d been about to say they could work this out themselves. It was usually his job to convince Amy of this: she always had some reason to call the Doctor: they’d lost their way, she was too tired to walk back down the hill, the planet was being invaded by giant sponges, the ship was going to explode in an hour….
They had a rule; before she got to call him, they had to talk about it first. But in a situation like this…
‘This is supposed to be our holiday…’ was all Rory managed before the swarm was on him again. He beat them off as best he could with his beach blanket, but it got shredded to pieces. Two more doublings, maybe three, and there wouldn’t be a swarm at all any more, just a bubble filled with angry jewelled crabs with nothing to eat but them.
‘All right! Call him!’
Amy hadn’t even had time to dial the number yet, but there was the sound anyway. It was inside the bubble with them, reverberating and making the trembling walls vibrate.
Vworp, vworp, vworp.
‘Did you call him?!’ shouted Rory.
The swarm was in the space where the sound was coming from. The crabs confusedly tried to fly upwards to get away from it.
‘Maybe he’s got a sensor,’ she shouted back, ‘that tells him when I’m really terrified.’
And with a final wheezing groan, the TARDIS
materialised. The swarm of jewelled crabs attacked its structure with gusto. Rory wondered how many milliseconds that would keep them occupied.
The door opened.
‘Certainly not,’ said the Doctor, ‘can’t go around measuring people’s emotional states, that’d be intrusive.
Not to mention all the electrodes and implants, very messy. Those things can go badly wrong, remind me never to tell you about the telepathic hair extensions that were all the rage on Cerpris Beta just before the total collapse of their civilisation. Anyway, what was I talking about? Ah yes, that’s right, did you have a good three weeks, have you picked up your going home presents, are you ready to leave now?’ He suddenly noticed the iridescent creatures covering the shell of his TARDIS, making it look like it had been encrusted with bling by Damian Hirst. ‘What are all these crabs? Have you made new friends?’
‘Doctor,’ said Amy, and hugged him, ‘how did you know we were in danger?!’
‘In danger from these little things?’ said the Doctor.
‘They only attack if they’re in an enclosed space, perfectly harmless otherwise.’ The Doctor reached out to stroke one of the crabs. It nipped his finger, drawing blood.
‘Ow!’ he said. He looked up and to the sides. ‘Ah, we are in an enclosed space. Why did you do that? Very silly of you, didn’t you see the warning signs?’
‘It… hasn’t… been… three… weeks!’ said Rory. His arms were covered with scratches from the crabs, but he was damned if he was going to give up any of his precious holiday with Amy.
The Doctor pulled an enormous fob watch from his pocket. Rather disconcertingly, the words ‘Rory and Amy Pond’ were engraved on the back. He consulted the face.
‘Not three weeks, not three weeks? Certainly has been Rory. Time flies when you’re having fun, but yes it’ll be three weeks just exactly -‘ he paused, looked at the watch face, waited for a hand to tick over from one number to the next - ‘now! Hope you haven’t eaten too much jelly and ice cream, try not to be sick on the way home. Well, not home. Probably not. Where shall we go next? Not Cerpris Beta. Never get a haircut there.’
‘Doctor!’ shouted Amy, trying to interrupt the flow of nonsense. ‘It really hasn’t been three weeks! It’s been six days!’
At that moment, the crabs, apparently deciding en masse that the TARDIS wasn’t edible after all, took off noisily from its surface.
‘Ah, right,’ said the Doctor. ‘Time to take down your -‘ he prodded the side of the bubble - ‘whatever this is and let these poor creatures out.’
; ‘We can’t,’ shouted Amy over the buzzing. ‘We’re stuck in a time bubble!’
She thrust the pink plastic Super Lucky Romance Camera at the Doctor. He examined it briefly.
‘Hmmm, yes. It’s only been six days in Earth time, but in your subjective time… three weeks.’
The swarm doubled, overhead. It seethed and roared and raised itself up as high as it could in the bubble and then began to descend, in a noisy, angry, clicking, crustacean sea of very sharp claws.
The Doctor pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and pointed it at the Camera. The Super Lucky Romance Camera gave a set of musical pings Rory had never heard it make before. And, all at once, the time bubble collapsed - and with it the angry swarm
suddenly changed direction, flying skywards, before spreading out across the whole beach. Only a single, harmless jewelled crab was left at Amy’s feet.
The Doctor tossed the Camera to Rory: ‘Keep that.
Useful little thing.’
Rory caught it awkwardly and put it into his pocket.
He muttered to Amy: ‘Can we just get on with our holiday again, now?’
‘Oh!’ said the Doctor. ‘I’ve brought you a wedding present. I know it’s a bit late, well, you know how it is, one thing and another, time flies when you’re saving a planet from evil hair extensions.’
‘A present?’ said Amy. ‘For me? I mean…’ she glanced at Rory, ‘for us? What is it, Doctor? Is it some kind of fabulous bit of technology, or an ancient jewel or a… Oh, I can’t wait, what is it?’
‘Far, far better,’ said the Doctor, with a smug smile.
‘In your species’ history, it’s probably the most valuable single object there’s ever been.’
‘What,’ said Rory, ‘that piece of moon rock they have in that museum in America?’
‘Moon rock, pah! I’ve got piles of stuff in one of the TARDIS basements from when I thought I’d lay crazy paving. No, no, much more expensive than that…’
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