Doctor Who - Short Trips (Big Finish) - 03 - A Universe of Terrors by Jacqueline Rayner

Author:Jacqueline Rayner [Rayner, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Media Tie-In, Science Fiction, Collections & Anthologies, Performing Arts, General, ibm
ISBN: 9781844350070
Google: Cx9xNwAACAAJ
Amazon: 184435007X
Barnesnoble: 184435007X
Publisher: Big Finish
Published: 2003-06-01T07:00:00+00:00

We had returned to Mauritz's dormitory. My calves ached from our long descent, and the heat of the fire came as a joyous relief. I dragged my chair nearer to the hearth and warmed my palms.

The Doctor slouched in the chair opposite, watching as a monk brought in three bowls. The monk handed me my bowl and spoon, 104

and I inhaled a deep breath of the steaming soup. It smelt delicious. I stirred it and some white meat bobbed to the surface.

Mauritz sat at the table and ladled himself a mouthful of the soup.

He looked directly at me as he swallowed, a smile wetting his lips.

`Please'

I looked at the Doctor, who was staring vacantly as though awaiting some stage direction. I shrugged and brought a lump of the meat to my mouth -

The Doctor launched himself out of his chair and stood upright. Of course!' He glared at Mauritz. 'A closed system!'

I dropped my spoon. Doctor - ?'

"' We make the most of that which we have",' said the Doctor, hurling each word in Mauritz's direction. 'You don't keep any cattle here, do you?'

Mauritz did not reply.

`No, of course not, you don't need to. Where do they go, the future Mauritzes? Where do they all end up?'The Doctor knocked his bowl to the floor:A feedback loop! They end up right here, on the dining table!'

`What?' I gulped.

`You eat them,' said the Doctor:There's nothing else to eat, is there?'

Mauritz did not reply.

Àll your future selves - boiled down to soup.And their skin... dried and bound into books. Their bones, baked to make bricks.This whole place, it's all made out of one thing. You!'

I looked down at the bowl.The white flesh I had been about to eat lurked beneath the surface. Human flesh. I shivered and felt a sudden coldness as the blood drained from my face.

Tor each of my selves,' said Mauritz at last, 'there are a dozen or inore potential future selves. When they die, they are not left to waste.

Just as each of my selves learns from each of his future selves, so, when they die, he will draw nourishment from them' He looked up at the Doctor and his lips parted into a grisly smile. 'Yes. Every brick of this citadel is made of my ground-up bones. Every book in the library is inked in my blood upon my skin. My body fat is used for candles, my hair is woven into twine.And what cannot be used is composted and ploughed back into the soil, to create the plants that provide oxygen and wood. I require nothing. I depend on no one but myself'

`Well I've heard of self-sufficiency,' joked the Doctor humourlessly,

`but this is ridiculous.'

Àt least,' continued Mauritz meaningfully:Until you arrived... now I have company.'

105

The Doctor nodded to me, and I inferred his meaning immediately.

He gathered up his scarf, collected a lamp, violently upturned the table, and bolted for the door.

How we found our way back I do not know. We dashed across the library and hurried down the nearest stairwell, grabbing the walls for balance.

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