robots with a roll of kitchen paper, but Solin pushed it back, and put an arm around his mum. He didn’t say anything, just waited until she started talking again.
‘Your father. . . I would follow him to the ends of the universe. I would trust him with anything, Solin. For many years we have trusted him with our lives. Keeping us here in this hostile land.’
‘I know that, Mum,’ Solin said. ‘And we have been safe here. Life has been good here.’
‘Ernest tamed this wilderness. . . for us. I can hardly imagine living anywhere else. But now we have to leave. I no longer feel safe.’ Her 47
voice broke again. ‘I feel like something terrible will happen. . . ’
Is that it? Martha wondered. She’s just homesick in advance? She would rather stay here than return to the rest of the universe? Or was there something more to this? Perhaps Amanda felt the same as Solin.
Perhaps she was just as perturbed by her husband’s behaviour. Imagine feeling dependent on him, Martha thought. She sighed and, before she knew it, she said: ‘The Doctor would help, if he hadn’t been shoved in the cellar.’
‘We don’t need your Doctor,’ Amanda snapped at her, bitterly.
‘Ernest will save us. He always knows what is appropriate action.’
This troubled Martha. Amanda’s implicit faith in her husband’s abilities seemed a very brittle thing. Like it was about to shatter and break
– just like the force shields apparently had.
‘But what if he lets us down? What if we’re stuck here?’ Solin said.
His mother rallied. ‘Darling, of course he won’t let us down. He always knows how to act, in every circumstance. Look! Look out there! Look what he’s doing!’ She moved towards a window which gave a view of the lawn. Puzzled, Solin and Martha followed. What was Amanda going to show them?
Ernest Tiermann was indeed working busily. He had a can of petrol and was sloshing it onto the grass, and onto a makeshift barrier of old wood he had laid on the lawns. Several of the household robots were following along behind him and they were doing the same thing, perhaps more methodically.
Solin jerked to his feet. ‘What does he think he’s. . . ?’
‘Sssh,’ Amanda said. ‘Trust your father. He is a genius.’
Solin turned to Martha. ‘What’s he doing?’
Tiermann’s activities were a good distance from the main buildings of Dreamhome. They were close to the edge of the malfunctioning shields. ‘He’s going to set light to it,’ Martha realised. ‘He’s making a ring of fire around the place.’
‘What?’ Solin laughed. ‘But. . . how primitive! How unnecessary!
Surely the Staff could protect us from any of the creatures beyond. . . ’
He looked shocked. ‘Mother. . . ?’
48
But Amanda Tiermann had slipped away, quietly, in the direction of her quarters, to resume her packing.
This wasn’t looking good, Martha decided. Outside, Ernest stood back to admire the trail of oil he had described all the way around the Dreamhome. It was complete. He nodded with satisfaction and waved the robots back. Then he lit a match and tossed it onto the grass.
A vast curtain of flame rose up to protect them. Searing, incandescent, and so incredibly noisy, Martha and Solin could hear it even inside the kitchen. ‘Oh my god. . . ’ Martha whispered, feeling trapped.
Thick, noxious fumes came rolling across the lawn. Now she had real panic rising up in her. Tiermann, she saw, was properly mad. And she felt sure that he would be the death of them all.
Martha turned to Solin and saw that his attention was on something else. The tablet robot was at his side, and was attempting to feed him the nerve pills, just as it had to Amanda. Solin was trying to wave him aside. ‘You must take your pills,’ the robot insisted. Its sharp little fingers tried to push their way into Solin’s face. ‘Take your pills. Take your pills and you will feel better.’ Solin spluttered and grasped hold of the robot’s spindly
‘Your father. . . I would follow him to the ends of the universe. I would trust him with anything, Solin. For many years we have trusted him with our lives. Keeping us here in this hostile land.’
‘I know that, Mum,’ Solin said. ‘And we have been safe here. Life has been good here.’
‘Ernest tamed this wilderness. . . for us. I can hardly imagine living anywhere else. But now we have to leave. I no longer feel safe.’ Her 47
voice broke again. ‘I feel like something terrible will happen. . . ’
Is that it? Martha wondered. She’s just homesick in advance? She would rather stay here than return to the rest of the universe? Or was there something more to this? Perhaps Amanda felt the same as Solin.
Perhaps she was just as perturbed by her husband’s behaviour. Imagine feeling dependent on him, Martha thought. She sighed and, before she knew it, she said: ‘The Doctor would help, if he hadn’t been shoved in the cellar.’
‘We don’t need your Doctor,’ Amanda snapped at her, bitterly.
‘Ernest will save us. He always knows what is appropriate action.’
This troubled Martha. Amanda’s implicit faith in her husband’s abilities seemed a very brittle thing. Like it was about to shatter and break
– just like the force shields apparently had.
‘But what if he lets us down? What if we’re stuck here?’ Solin said.
His mother rallied. ‘Darling, of course he won’t let us down. He always knows how to act, in every circumstance. Look! Look out there! Look what he’s doing!’ She moved towards a window which gave a view of the lawn. Puzzled, Solin and Martha followed. What was Amanda going to show them?
Ernest Tiermann was indeed working busily. He had a can of petrol and was sloshing it onto the grass, and onto a makeshift barrier of old wood he had laid on the lawns. Several of the household robots were following along behind him and they were doing the same thing, perhaps more methodically.
Solin jerked to his feet. ‘What does he think he’s. . . ?’
‘Sssh,’ Amanda said. ‘Trust your father. He is a genius.’
Solin turned to Martha. ‘What’s he doing?’
Tiermann’s activities were a good distance from the main buildings of Dreamhome. They were close to the edge of the malfunctioning shields. ‘He’s going to set light to it,’ Martha realised. ‘He’s making a ring of fire around the place.’
‘What?’ Solin laughed. ‘But. . . how primitive! How unnecessary!
Surely the Staff could protect us from any of the creatures beyond. . . ’
He looked shocked. ‘Mother. . . ?’
48
But Amanda Tiermann had slipped away, quietly, in the direction of her quarters, to resume her packing.
This wasn’t looking good, Martha decided. Outside, Ernest stood back to admire the trail of oil he had described all the way around the Dreamhome. It was complete. He nodded with satisfaction and waved the robots back. Then he lit a match and tossed it onto the grass.
A vast curtain of flame rose up to protect them. Searing, incandescent, and so incredibly noisy, Martha and Solin could hear it even inside the kitchen. ‘Oh my god. . . ’ Martha whispered, feeling trapped.
Thick, noxious fumes came rolling across the lawn. Now she had real panic rising up in her. Tiermann, she saw, was properly mad. And she felt sure that he would be the death of them all.
Martha turned to Solin and saw that his attention was on something else. The tablet robot was at his side, and was attempting to feed him the nerve pills, just as it had to Amanda. Solin was trying to wave him aside. ‘You must take your pills,’ the robot insisted. Its sharp little fingers tried to push their way into Solin’s face. ‘Take your pills. Take your pills and you will feel better.’ Solin spluttered and grasped hold of the robot’s spindly
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