Part 21 (1/2)

'And I shall see if we can't still salvage something from this glorious war which our esteemed Exec has all but lost for us.'

'I see from the change in your expression that you have come to some conclusion perhaps you now understand what is happening here?'

The Doctor looked at the man who had joined him. From close up, he could see that the old man's face was wrinkled and pale with age, but his eyes were full of experience, 'Oh yes,' the Doctor said. 'It's all become very dear. Ingenious, I suppose. Although it would only work with a civilization like that on Menaxus one devoted to theatre.'

'The plan was of course written for the target audience.'

The Doctor frowned. 'You said ”was” you mean that you know that Menaxus is now a dead world, a world where civilization was wiped clean?'

The man nodded. 'There's nothing on Menaxus now. But it's an automatic cycle, you see. Once started it must run its course, like all good theatre.'

'And it's running now?'

'It is. And since I have indulged your interest, perhaps you will indulge mine?'

'In what way?'

'A simple matter. I was merely wondering who you are and how you came to be in a universe where all the characters are fict.i.tious.'

The Doctor switched his umbrella to his left arm and extended his right to shake hands. 'I'm dreadfully sorry, how remiss of me. I'm the Doctor, and I'm here to stop your machine before things go too far.' They shook hands. 'And you are?'

'Why, Doctor, I thought you had guessed when you said it was my machine.' The man gave a short bow. 'I am Aronholt, inventor and builder of the machine you are now trapped within. Welcome to my Universe.'

Source Doc.u.ment 13 Extract from status report made by j.a.para Ikyen, commissionaire of the Heletian camps on Temenos Stored in the Rippearean Imperial Archive.

Should the Rippeareans break through the Nichorian Line, then we shall need to know immediately if we are to sanitize before their advance troops arrive. I have already authorized a thirty per cent increase in the throughput to the chambers and incinerators, but even working at full capacity we shall need prior warning if we are to implement a final solution to the problem of the indigenous populations.

Cha.s.semy's experiments are proceeding to plan, but have not yet yielded the lasting results that we had hoped and antic.i.p.ated. The implants become unstable after a maximum of three days, and the subject reverts to normal. Control cannot be re*established either with surgery or with more traditional forms of coercion, and there is no option but to have the subject chambered or incinerated.

Morale is generally low, as we had expected given the status of the campaign. We are allowing the garrison to ”pre*process” about ten per cent more of the physically sound prisoners, and this is alleviating some of the tension. This number cannot be increased further however without impacting Cha.s.semy's work once the garrison has finished with a prisoner, particularly a female, that subject is no longer equipped either physically or mentally to survive an implant and a.s.sociated education.

Chapter 13.

Justice Although it is said that Naturalism is a depiction of life as it is, whereas Realism shows life as it really really is, neither of these is true. And yet, there is a sense in which 'real' life is as much an act, a performance for those of us who live if as anything played in the theatre. is, neither of these is true. And yet, there is a sense in which 'real' life is as much an act, a performance for those of us who live if as anything played in the theatre.Reality An Overrated Concept Rankin Alduss, 2876 Rankin Alduss, 2876 Aronholt led the Doctor back onto the set for The Good Soldiers The Good Soldiers. They stood beside the banqueting table, the characters around it still motionless, the food undisturbed.

'If you know that Menaxus is dead,' the Doctor said, 'then you must also know that your machine has lain dormant for centuries, possibly for millennia.'

'Has It?' Aronholt seemed indifferent as he surveyed the scene, obviously pleased with the design of his set. He paced the room, running his hand down a wall, smiling with satisfaction at a detail in the carvings on the door.'

'But the machine is now working again,' the Doctor continued. 'There is to be a performance of The Good Soldiers The Good Soldiers within the next day.' within the next day.'

Aronholt turned from his examination of the wood carvings, 'And what of it?'

'It is unnecessary. Your plan has already run its course and Menaxus lies in ruins. There is no need to continue with this.'. The Doctor waved his arm in a semicircle to indicate the whole of the room they were in. 'You the real you outside this machine*world have been dead for a thousand years or more.'

Aronholt stopped his pacing and joined the Doctor by the table. 'Doctor, you are a clever and intelligent man.'

'And you're an excellent judge of character. Now can we stop the machine? Change the plan?' He was getting tense, shuffling from foot to foot while his hands played with the handle of his umbrella.

But Aronholt shook his head. 'But I fear you may have rather missed the point. Perhaps you had better tell me what, exactly, you think the plan is what the machine is for.'

The Doctor took a deep breath, sat on the edge of the banqueting table and began his story. 'Many years ago, a thriving civilization existed on the planet Menaxus. It was a civilization which placed great store in its admiration for the theatre and for dramatic art. It was a civilization which built a great theatre in which to present the very best of drama to a huge audience.

'I don't know how long the civilization lasted. I must confess I had never heard of it until recently. But Menaxus was a society with enemies. One in particular devised a plan to invade and lay waste the planet. Why the plan was so complicated, I also don't know, but perhaps it was difficult to penetrate the Menaxan defences any other way. But what they did was to build a machine, a machine that presented drama plays as a projection.

'The technique was not technologically innovative. The attraction lay in what plays the machine could perform. The Menaxans were given the machine, or perhaps it was contrived that they should find it. But whatever, they discovered that this machine could present one play in particular Osterling's lost masterpiece, The Good Soldiers The Good Soldiers. So, predictably, the Menaxans arranged a great perlormance.

'I imagine everyone of any importance, and a great deal of other people, were present when the play was performed. And I imagine they loved it. Right up until the end.

'You see, the machine this machine is more than just an image projector. The plays, the characters and situations actually exist inside it. And with the inclusion of a real*world interface and a crude dimensional osmosis damper it is possible for people from the real world to get inside the machine. And for characters from the plays within the machine to escape into the real world.'

Aronholt nodded. 'Go on, Doctor.'

'We both know how The Good Soldiers The Good Soldiers ends.' The Doctor pointed to the door they had come through earlier. 'The machine destroyed the entirety of the civilization on Menaxus. And its job done, the machine slept. Until now.' ends.' The Doctor pointed to the door they had come through earlier. 'The machine destroyed the entirety of the civilization on Menaxus. And its job done, the machine slept. Until now.'

'And now?'

'The machine has been woken. Probably by Lannic's excavations. It has survived undisturbed on Menaxus perhaps for thousands of years, and in that time I think the dimensional osmosis damper has de*phased. As a result we've had some bleed*through from the plays within the machine. Elements of The Good Soldiers The Good Soldiers and and Death Bane Death Bane have appeared within the real world, have interact with it. And now the machine has started its program again. And a performance of have appeared within the real world, have interact with it. And now the machine has started its program again. And a performance of The Good Soldiers The Good Soldiers is scheduled for tonight. is scheduled for tonight.

'But this machine doesn't know or care that its job has already been done, that it is now on another world that it will destroy another civilization that did not even exist when it was built.'

Aronholt was silent for a while, stroking his beard slowly as the Doctor waited for a response. Eventually, he spoke: 'An interesting theory, Doctor. And one which certainly fits the available evidence.'

Most of the huge building seemed deserted almost everyone was off fighting the war, she a.s.sumed. Occasionally Ace came across cl.u.s.ters of activity, like a set of rooms grouped together which were being used as offices or for accommodation. But whether occupied or not, all the rooms seemed almost identical. Only the posters changed, and most of those seemed to depict scenes of incredibly handsome and beautiful people killing each other on stage.

Now she found herself back at the theatre, standing at the foot of the staircase that led to the box where the dream machine was installed. She paused. Should she go back to the machine? The Doctor might have reappeared by now. Since she was here she might as well have a look. And she could ask Fortalexa what was going on if he had regained his sense of humour.

Even while she was still thinking it through, Ace had started to climb the stairs. She went slowly, making an effort not to make a sound. If Fortalexa was still in a mood, then she would be happy to slip away un.o.bserved. She reached the top of the stairs and peered round the corner into the room.

Fortalexa was standing by the machine, apparently making still more adjustments to its internal circuitry. But he was not alone. There were two other figures standing in the shadows at the edge of the room, watching.

Ace could tell they were watching, because although their features were shadowed, their eyes were glowing a dull red. Ace leaned closer, her foot crunching slightly on the loose concrete where the new prefabricated wall met the structure of the staircase. Two pairs of red eyes swivelled towards her and she ducked back out of sight, hearing the whirr of the motors which powered the mechanics of the eyeb.a.l.l.s.

What was going on? She had seen no other robots in her exploration of the palace had these been specially a.s.signed to help Fortalexa?

'See what that was.' Fortalexa's voice was hard and emotionless. It was followed by the sound of footsteps. Ace didn't wait to confirm her guess that one of the robots was coming over to the staircase. Nor did she wait to see if there was a legitimate reason for the robots to be there at all. She ran down the stairs, all attempts to conceal her presence forgotten. Behind her the pace of the footsteps increased.

At the bottom of the staircase, Ace pushed open the main door into the theatre, closing it quietly behind her.