admit, it does look rather bad.’
203 sprang to her feet, snarling.
And then, strangely, slid to the floor again.
This time she did not get up.
‘That was more of a tap, really,’ 428 muttered sheepishly. Then he crouched by 203 and whispered something in her ear.
By this time, Guardian Donaldson had arrived to break up the fight. She surveyed the wreckage with typically dryness. She found 428 as unamusing as I did. But 428 seemed pleased to see her. 428 helped 203 up. ‘Her name is Abesse,’ he informed Donaldson, ‘and I’m afraid she’s a little shaken up.’ Abesse was leaning woozily against a wall. ‘Do be careful with her. Her inner ear is temporarily a little off so you’ll find her sense of balance won’t answer questions for a day or so.’
In hindsight, placing Prisoner 203 next to Lafcardio in the medical centre was a mistake.
The next time I saw 203, a few days later, she and the … Prisoner 428 were heading off to the crafting workshop, a place where prisoners devoted themselves to hobby-craft. The two of them looked, if you will excuse the expression, as thick as thieves.
Quite how the seal to the library was breached, I don’t know. We only found out about it later. When I asked428 where he’d got the wood from.
‘Don’t you like the tables?’ he’d asked, hurt.
We were standing in the canteen. Which was now full of tables. And benches.
‘We repainted,’ 428 explained. ‘Yellow was a bit provoking. Pink has a calming effect. They discovered this on Alcatraz.’ He leaned over me, indicating a bench.
‘Do take a seat,’ he’d insisted. ‘Well, not on that pew. It wobbles. Just a bit.’
‘Where …’ My mouth was dry. ‘Where did you get the wood?’
‘Oh, well.’ 428 looked decidedly casual. ‘There were all those shelves in the library. Empty shelves. No books now, you see. And Abesse and I thought that … well … she is a wonder with a handsaw.’ He beamed, pleased.
I just stood there. Stood there as prisoners started filing in for the morning meal, collecting their porridge and sitting down at the tables. They were all smiling. Not talking, just beaming. Abesse stood at the back of them all. Arms folded. Watching me. Waiting for a challenge.
‘Sometimes,’ smiled 428, ‘it’s not the final destination that counts, but how you get there. And sometimes both the journey and the destination are most rewarding.’
He reached over to something on the table andhanded it to me. It was a pot, with a plant in it.
‘It’s a rosebush,’ he said. ‘I know you like flowers. I grew it in the hydroponics centre.’
‘But Prisoners aren’t allowed in the—’
The Doctor shrugged. ‘And isn’t that a shame? Stick it on your desk. Water it. Enjoy.’
I stared at it. Little red buds were already showing. Helen had always loved roses. I wanted to say something. But I couldn’t thank the Doctor. I just couldn’t. That would have made his victory complete. Instead I held the plant to me. Already I could smell it.
The Doctor turned and started to stride away.
‘Not staying—’ I stopped. My tone had been abrupt, showing how much he’d got to me. So I stopped. I did not say ‘to enjoy your victory’. Instead I managed: ‘To enjoy your porridge?’
428 turned, and shuddered theatrically. ‘No. I can’t stand the food here. But don’t worry. That’s on my list.’
He smiled at me and was gone.
Bentley and I looked at each other. She was almost staring right into my eyes.
‘He’s winning, isn’t he?’ I said.
Bentley didn’t answer. She looked away.
There was a power fluctuation that night. Six minutes and twelve seconds. I’d almost forgotten them. Bentley and I argued about it, quite firmly.
‘Level 7,’ she was saying. ‘You have to isolate Level 7 now and claw back resources.’
‘I can’t do that,’ I protested.
‘The Protocols say it’s the only way.’
I knew, more or less, that she was right. Level 7 was
203 sprang to her feet, snarling.
And then, strangely, slid to the floor again.
This time she did not get up.
‘That was more of a tap, really,’ 428 muttered sheepishly. Then he crouched by 203 and whispered something in her ear.
By this time, Guardian Donaldson had arrived to break up the fight. She surveyed the wreckage with typically dryness. She found 428 as unamusing as I did. But 428 seemed pleased to see her. 428 helped 203 up. ‘Her name is Abesse,’ he informed Donaldson, ‘and I’m afraid she’s a little shaken up.’ Abesse was leaning woozily against a wall. ‘Do be careful with her. Her inner ear is temporarily a little off so you’ll find her sense of balance won’t answer questions for a day or so.’
In hindsight, placing Prisoner 203 next to Lafcardio in the medical centre was a mistake.
The next time I saw 203, a few days later, she and the … Prisoner 428 were heading off to the crafting workshop, a place where prisoners devoted themselves to hobby-craft. The two of them looked, if you will excuse the expression, as thick as thieves.
Quite how the seal to the library was breached, I don’t know. We only found out about it later. When I asked428 where he’d got the wood from.
‘Don’t you like the tables?’ he’d asked, hurt.
We were standing in the canteen. Which was now full of tables. And benches.
‘We repainted,’ 428 explained. ‘Yellow was a bit provoking. Pink has a calming effect. They discovered this on Alcatraz.’ He leaned over me, indicating a bench.
‘Do take a seat,’ he’d insisted. ‘Well, not on that pew. It wobbles. Just a bit.’
‘Where …’ My mouth was dry. ‘Where did you get the wood?’
‘Oh, well.’ 428 looked decidedly casual. ‘There were all those shelves in the library. Empty shelves. No books now, you see. And Abesse and I thought that … well … she is a wonder with a handsaw.’ He beamed, pleased.
I just stood there. Stood there as prisoners started filing in for the morning meal, collecting their porridge and sitting down at the tables. They were all smiling. Not talking, just beaming. Abesse stood at the back of them all. Arms folded. Watching me. Waiting for a challenge.
‘Sometimes,’ smiled 428, ‘it’s not the final destination that counts, but how you get there. And sometimes both the journey and the destination are most rewarding.’
He reached over to something on the table andhanded it to me. It was a pot, with a plant in it.
‘It’s a rosebush,’ he said. ‘I know you like flowers. I grew it in the hydroponics centre.’
‘But Prisoners aren’t allowed in the—’
The Doctor shrugged. ‘And isn’t that a shame? Stick it on your desk. Water it. Enjoy.’
I stared at it. Little red buds were already showing. Helen had always loved roses. I wanted to say something. But I couldn’t thank the Doctor. I just couldn’t. That would have made his victory complete. Instead I held the plant to me. Already I could smell it.
The Doctor turned and started to stride away.
‘Not staying—’ I stopped. My tone had been abrupt, showing how much he’d got to me. So I stopped. I did not say ‘to enjoy your victory’. Instead I managed: ‘To enjoy your porridge?’
428 turned, and shuddered theatrically. ‘No. I can’t stand the food here. But don’t worry. That’s on my list.’
He smiled at me and was gone.
Bentley and I looked at each other. She was almost staring right into my eyes.
‘He’s winning, isn’t he?’ I said.
Bentley didn’t answer. She looked away.
There was a power fluctuation that night. Six minutes and twelve seconds. I’d almost forgotten them. Bentley and I argued about it, quite firmly.
‘Level 7,’ she was saying. ‘You have to isolate Level 7 now and claw back resources.’
‘I can’t do that,’ I protested.
‘The Protocols say it’s the only way.’
I knew, more or less, that she was right. Level 7 was
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