Doctor Who_ Eternity Weeps Part 29

There would be millions of people with nowhere to live, no food to eat.

Millions would die. As we stood on that plain of gla.s.s, beneath the full Earth, I could see Jason thinking hard about those that would survive.

About how they would eat, where they would live. About how they would live. I knew he had seen one world die from a blow such as this. I could see he did not want to watch another die.

In preceding years movement of people from one area of the Earth to another on this scale had been impossible for many reasons. Now it was essential. I watched the Earth silently, understanding that it was a new world I was seeing emerge from the birth trauma of Agent Yellow. I could see Jason wondering if the people of this new world would learn and grow and live ... or fail to learn, and die.

That was one question I knew the answer to. In broad terms, only, of course, but nonetheless I had an answer of sorts. But then I was from the future and he wasn't.

It was just one more way in which we were different. I left him there to find out what I already knew.

Or thought I knew.

As for the rest of it, nada. Why did we divorce? I have no idea.

Was it because Jason lied to me about loving me, or because I lied to him about my pregnancy? Was it because the Earth survived, or because the Cthalctose died? Was it because I wanted him to kill me, or because he was able to do it?

I didn't even know if I wanted a divorce, or if we should give our relations.h.i.+p another go, thrash it out, try to make some sense out of it. I think I wanted both things at the same time, if you can imagine that. Oh G.o.d. It's all so d.a.m.n complicated.

I asked the Doctor about it later and he was about as unhelpful as I'd ever heard him be.

He said, 'I have walked in Eternity. And Eternity weeps:' I've thought about what he said for years, but I still don't know what he meant.

I shook my head. 'Nah.' I turned once again to enter the TARDIS. As I stepped over the threshold, I tossed the Bible idly onto the lunar surface.

As far as I know it's still there, a lone sentinel in a plain of gla.s.s watching over a world that might as well have been made by the hand of G.o.d himself.

A thought struck me as I turned away from Jason to enter the TARDIS, and I tilted my head up for one last look at this new world, fresh from its birth pains. I thought about Noah, I thought about the Astronomer Royal. I thought about the death of a world, the birth of another, the transformation which bridged the two.

And the Ark. The Ark that represented a beginning and an ending, both at the same time. I thought about that too. And I took from my pocket a tiny Bible, a doodad Jason had given me while we were on our honeymoon. I think he stole it from a hotel room. I flicked the pages idly, wondering: we had started out looking for one Ark and we found another. Along the way we remade a world. Destiny or coincidence?

I will rain upon the Earth forty days and forty nights; and I will destroy every substance that I have made from the face of the Earth.

I shut the book slowly, thoughtfully. What if...

Dedication.As well as being in memory of me dear old Dad, this book is also dedicated with special love to my Mum, June Mortimore; and in acknowledgement of selfless courage to Jonathan, Joanne, Andrea, Steve, Eileen, Maureen, Phil, Angela and Andy, Sheila and Bill, Lisa, Wayne, Sam; Cynthia and Stan, Lin and Les, Flossie, Mavis and Bob, Shane and Donna and the staff at St Margaret's, Rita and Pip, Ann, Andy and Mark, Tony, Gwen, Sue, Bob Bone and the Darts Club, Richard Evans of the Royal Liverpool University Hospital, Liz Friend from the Greenwich Support Team, Ron Southard, Chris Paice and Brian Hume, Gina, the Lewisham Direct Team Building Works, the medical staff and radiographers at the Maudsley and St Thomas's, the Marie Curie Nurses, the staff at the Greenwich and Bexley Hospice, and everyone else who was kind enough to offer support to us all when we needed it the most?

If there's ever anything I can do for you guys, you let me know.

Jim Mortimore, September 1996 ***

Acknowledgements:

Taking Over The Asylum This year has been, well, mixed. My dad died, one of my best mates might have to be deported, the woman I love was burgled and - well that's enough of that. On the plus side, my garden no longer looks like Ray Bradbury could rent out dinosaur hunts in it, I have sold a couple of bits of music (no you won't like them but check for FEEL on Planet Dog and Phantasm collections) and I got to admire a recorder (you remember that wooden thing you played in the school orchestra when you were six) which stands seven feet high and is as many inches thick. Outstandingly bodacious.

People to whom a mountainous pile of thanks are due: Paul Hinder: To his friends and colleagues he is the Fourth Emergency Service.

Trees: For President Springsteen, Life With The Giblies, and ... well, everything, really.

Lalitha: For stories and music.

Andy: For stress management above and beyond the call of duty.

Stuart: For the sheep story I couldn't use.

Timbo & Kurt: For Simpson Family Therapy, Fear of Flying and b.u.t.tzilla.

Congratulations to Joanne and Gareth on your engagement. Nice one, guys.

You may have noticed that there is no Doctor Who logo on the cover of this book. That's not why the Doctor hardly appears in the text though. It's more to do with the way a plot which seems as tight as a gerbil's ... grasp on its food ... can seem, when written as prose, to be as loose as a gerbil's ...

grasp of molecular biology. So if you feel inclined, blame Virgin for the lack of a logo, and me for the lack of a Doctor.

A Serious Message I need your help. As you know I have worked in the band mammal. This band kicks a.s.s. It is the creation of Nakula Somala. Nakula has also been responsible for several of the characters and situations which have appeared in novels I have written. There are now a number of other musical and writing projects on the go which will never see the light of day unless YOU write a short note to me care of. 27 Colston Rd, Easton, Bristol, BS5 6AA, or via Paul Hinder's internet address: (). The-note should be a variation of the type: 'Dear Sir/Madam. I am writing in support of Nakula Somala's application to remain resident in this country. I have read Jim Mortimore's work and understand that Nakula has in part been responsible for scenes I have enjoyed. I support Jim and Nakula's desire to work more fully together in the future and therefore support Nakula's application to remain resident in this country.' This is not a gag. This is serious. Please help. Every letter counts. Write now.

To demonstrate my thanks, I will send anyone who helps out with a letter for Nakula a copy of the original plot synopsis for this book (and it's wildly different, believe me) or a tape of our latest musical collaboration (including those tracks mentioned above). You choose. It won't even cost you an SAE.

And so I leave you with the wisdom of Burt the Turtle. He knows what to do in the case of a nuclear explosion: Duck and Cover!

Enjoy the picnic.

Outtahere - Jimbo