by Doctor Who
Shopfronts were shattering all along the mall.
They kept running. Recce's heart was pounding.
And then several small, pink shapes started dropping from the balconies above them.
The four humans skidded to a halt. Reece stared in horror.
Each of the pink shapes hit the floor with a squelching sound, flexing its little limbs. Then more, and more.
Facing them was a small army - two dozen or more - of life-size baby dolls. The kind, Reece realised with a sick feeling, that he had bought for his little cousin Sadie just the other year, when she was a toddler. They were dressed in a variety of baby clothes: pink gingham caps and tunics, or frilly red-and-white dresses, or acid-green romper suits.
They weren't even cute, Reece thought - their rigid, pink faces with glaring blue eyes and unnaturally red mouths just looked evil to him.
The one at the head of the crowd raised both its hands.
'Hug me, Mummy!' it said in a tinny, gurgling voice.
The others raised their arms in unison, following its lead.
Two dozen squeaky, inhuman doll-voices echoed through the mall. 'Hug me, Mummy!'
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AUTONOMY
And then, as if controlled by a single mind, the dolls put their little feet one in front of the other.
With arms outstretched and blue eyes open wide, and faces fixed in rictus grins, they began to advance on the humans.
The Doctor was still examining the containment unit inside which the green, glowing form of the Consciousness slumbered. Its actual form could not be seen that clearly behind the frosted, translucent material of the pod. There was sometimes a hint of a thrashing tentacle, sometimes a shadow which could have been a claw. Now and then a flashing, tentative imprint would be made against the material of the pod, like the mark of a misshapen hand on cold glass, before whatever protuberance had made it was snatched away again.
Tour thoughts, Doctor?' asked Miss Devonshire.
'Physical manifestation for the Consciousness,' the Doctor murmured, 'isn't defined in the same way as you or I would define our bodies. It's more than just a brain in a casing of flesh. It's more of a... concept.'
'Go on,' said Miss Devonshire, smiling.
'It can exist in various forms, various places, various times even. It exists within everything it controls. The basic shop-window dummies, the more advanced Autons with the firepower like Suzanne and Joanne here.' The Doctor nodded to the two immaculate, black-gloved waitresses.
Then the facsimiles, like your mate Georgie-Best-boy upstairs - and this.' He nodded to the translucent pod.
'Kind of like the heart. Only not the heart, necessarily.
Could just be the appendix. Or the duodenum. Depending how you define it.'
'A little muddled. But basically correct, Doctor,' said Miss Devonshire quietly.
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The Doctor pulled a stethoscope out of his pocket and listened. 'Ahhhh... Okaaaaay...' He stood up, hands in pockets, and turned to face Max and Miss Devonshire again. 'And the one thing which unites all its various manifestations is a molecular structure with a close affinity to what, here on Earth, is called plastic. Polymers of high molecular weight, some partially amorphous. All here in Hyperville in abundance. All of which makes me wonder...
why this manifestation is actually dying.'
Max and Miss Devonshire looked at one another, then back at the Doctor again, who leapt down from the platform, walked up to Miss Devonshire and all around her.
'May I?' he asked, extending the stethoscope.
She spread her hands. 'Be my guest.'
The Doctor listened to Miss Devonshire's chest - first on one side, then on the other. Then he pulled a face, flipped his glasses on and peered intently at her face. 'Who are you, exactly?' he murmured.
She smiled. 'My name is Elizabeth Devonshire. My parents came here from the USA in 1976. I am, shall we say, one of the key players in the setting up of Hyperville.'
He shook his head. 'Ohhh, you're far more than that.
'Elizabeth?' Max asked. 'What does he mean?'
She did not answer. 'Go on, Doctor.'
Tell me about Hyperville.'
'What is there to tell?' She spread her hands. 'A glorious empire of consumerism on one site. A place for the organics to shop, to play, to be entertained.'
Max looked curious. 'Organics?' he said.
'She means humans,' said the Doctor coldly. 'Human beings. That's what I prefer to call them.'
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AUTONOMY
Miss Devonshire smiled. 'A place for the organics - the humans — to congregate. Despite your meddling, Doctor, there are still approximately a hundred human units at large in the complex. My Autons will find them. They will destroy some. Others will be kept for our... training exercise.'
'You've had a few problems. Or rather...' The Doctor nodded towards the Consciousness. 'It has. Damaged, disorientated... It can't control all of the Autons properly, can it? That's why you've had rogue units. Couple of weird sisters, some knights, a manic train driver. Not to mention the murderous little one. Where is the little one?'
'We're working on it.'
'And what do you want me to do?' asked the Doctor, circling her and taking off his glasses.
'I want you to fix the signal,' she said quietly. 'Amplify it.'
'Amplify it?' said the Doctor cautiously. 'What for?'
The distress signal that this unit has been sending out is to a Consciousness spearhead cluster located at the fringes of your solar system. This unit needs to attain escape velocity in order to realign with the cluster, and then it can locate a new breeding ground. If a suitable one is found, then the people of this paltry, messy planet which you seem to love so much will be left in peace. Never bothered again by the Nestenes.'
'And if I don't?' the Doctor asked carefully.
Miss Devonshire turned her head towards him and smiled. Then I shall release the Autons from Hyperville, and they will kill every organic on this planet.'
165
TEN
The young woman from Shaneeqi's party, the one in the red dress who had proudly defrosted her credit card, was running down Kennedy Boulevard, looking in horror at the shattered shops.
She didn't really understand what had happened, but she knew Hyperville would never be the same again.
Where was she going to shop now?
She had taken off her beloved Jimmy Choos and couldn't bear to let go of them, so she was holding them as she ran, along with the bottle of champagne she had liberated from the party. Her dress was ripped at the shoulder and her hair tousled.
Then, she skittered to a halt.
Two
shop-window
dummies
were
marching
determinedly towards her.
She stopped, blinked. She took a deep swig from the 167
DOCTOR WHO
champagne, plonked it down on a nearby bench and spread her hands.
'Oh, guys!' she exclaimed. 'Come on!' She fumbled for her credit card and her HyperCard, offering them to the Autons in desperation. 'Look!' she said. 'Look, I can pay you. It's all on credit, but I pay off the minimum every month, I swear, please, you can have whatever you want—'
Babbling, she backed up against the wall as the two Autons continued to march relentlessly towards her. Her eyes bulged in fear.
'Please!' she begged. 'You guys! I came here to shop! I live to shop! You've got to let me—'
The Autons stopped.
She laughed nervously, spread her hands, shoes dangling from one, credit cards from the other.
'OK,' she said. 'Right. Can we talk? Let's talk!'
The Autons, as one, lifted their arms.
Their hands opened with a fleshy slurping sound, followed by two simultaneous clunks.
The girl's face fell.
'Oh, come on,' she said.
Both Autons blasted her at t
he same time, the fizzing sound echoing through the mall and the ultra-bright, incinerating light of their weapons flashing off every reflective surface.
The girl was slammed back against the shop window.
Suspended in mid air, she rippled in a vortex of red light, then white. Then she, her shoes and her credit cards burst into a shower of hissing, white droplets.
It was as if she had never existed.
'What the flamin' 'eck is going on in this place?'
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AUTONOMY
The dolls in Hyperion Boulevard turned, as one, little pink feet squelching and stamping, little red eyes glowing in anticipation of new prey.
'Sir Gerry!' cried Kate, her voice filling with hope.
The Chief Executive, briefcase in one hand and cigar in the other, stood amid the debris in the shattered mall.
'Kate?' he said. 'What's happened? I go away for three hours and come back and a bomb's hit the place!'
'Who's that guy?' asked Chantelle.
The head honcho,' said Kate. The big cheese.'
She glanced behind them. The disorientated Autons who had emerged from the shops were looking as if they were gathering strength. At their feet, the dolls, chattering and chuckling quietly to themselves, were reaching out their little arms in apparent delight.
'Whatever we're going to do, guys, can we please do it quickly?' Shaneeqi snapped.
'OK...' Kate tried to think on her feet.
Sir Gerry looked down in horror at the army of baby-dolls. Is this some new line Max has been developing?
They look like ugly little blighters.'
'Blighters.' Kate looked up suddenly. 'Blighters, lighters... Sir Gerry! Give me your lighter!'
'What?' Sir Gerry looked confused as the dolls began to fan outwards, some stomping towards him and others heading for Kate, Shaneeqi, Reece and Chantelle.
'Your lighter, Sir Gerry! Your cigar lighter!'
Sir Gerry, backing away from the advancing dolls, fumbled in his pocket and threw the lighter over to Kate, who caught it smartly in both hands.
'Give me that hairspray,' she said to Chantelle.
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DOCTOR WHO
The girl handed the canister over. 'What are you going to do?'
'Something clever,' said Kate, 'with any luck.'
Kate wasn't at all sure that what she was going to do would work, but she remembered seeing something similar in a film about invading alien bugs once.
She pressed down on the aerosol, and at the same time clicked Sir Gerry's cigar lighter on so that the spark caught in the flammable stream.
The rush of flame almost made her drop the thing, but she kept her finger down on the aerosol.
A wave of fire hit the dolls, scorching the heads of those in the front rank. They scattered like ants from an upturned anthill, and Kate was sure she heard an unearthly screeching sound coming from the red mouths.
'Come on!' Kate yelled to her astonished companions.
'Run.'
The full-sized Autons, firmer-footed now, were already stalking down the mall towards the conflagration.
Kate clicked the lighter and the aerosol again, giving the dolls another burst.
She caught three of them in the same cloud of orange fire, and felt the intense heat as their heads and upper bodies liquefied in front of her, drops of molten plastic splattering the marbled surface of the mall floor like pink wax. The pungent, toxic smell of melting Plastinol filled the mall, and an evil whitish-green smoke emanated from the melting dolls.
Kate grinned, breaking into a run with only a glance over her shoulder. That's what you get for being made of plastic!' she yelled, and ran after the others with a whoop.
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AUTONOMY
The Doctor looked at Miss Devonshire and raised his eyebrows.
'Oh, well,' he said. 'If you put it like that... Give me access to the warp-shunt drive software.'
Miss Devonshire gestured to her laptop, on a table next to the platform. 'All yours, Doctor. But no tricks. Or we begin.' She nodded to one of the Auton-waitresses, who stalked over to Max Carson.
The Doctor watched curiously as the Auton reached out for Max's arm. He could see the expression of puzzlement on Max's face as its tough, flexible plastic fingers clamped down on his arm, and saw the puzzlement turn to fear as he was slowly forced to his knees.
'We will begin with Mr Carson,' said Miss Devonshire quietly, 'now that he has outlived his usefulness.'
Max looked in horror at her. 'Miss Devonshire,' he whispered. He licked his lips. 'Elizabeth... We had a deal.
We had an arrangement.'
She perched on her chair, legs crossed elegantly, and smiled. 'From which you have profited handsomely. But ultimately, Max, you are just another organic.' She gestured to the Doctor. 'I suggest you begin.'
They burst through the nearest fire door, Chantelle first, followed by Reece, then Shaneeqi, then Sir Gerry, puffing and wheezing, and finally Kate, bringing up the rear.
Kate checked behind her. Those dolls, she thought in panic, could move fast. She'd had one when she was a little girl. Little Miss Sleepy-Eyes, she was called. You pulled a string at her back and Little Miss Sleepy-Eyes said, I love you, Mummy.' She had always been envious of her friend Rebecca
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DOCTOR WHO
Tomlinson who'd had the i-Doll, the one with the chip in it which said several hundred different combinations of things. Envious up to a point. But the i-Doll was, in many ways, even spookier. It was so real, its eyes moist and blue and its soft plasticky flesh warm and lifelike. Kate had been happier with the plastic artificiality of Little Miss Sleepy-Eyes.
And now there were several dozen of them, marching towards the fire door they had just come through, arms held out, eyes blazing red.
'How many of these things are there?' Shaneeqi gasped, leaning on her knees to get her breath back.
Kate tried to stay calm, focused. The Doctor said this Consciousness thing could tune itself into plastic. Like it's part of it.'
'Oh, great,' said Chantelle. 'So we need to be afraid of everything. Think about it.' She pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket, held it on her palm and looked at it warily, as if it were a rodent sitting there about to bite her.
Kate grinned. 'You mean you're not already?'
Chantelle glowered at her.
'What's through here, Sir Gerry?' Kate asked, nodding at the maintenance door ahead of them.
He looked up, arms folded, and surveyed the number above the maintenance door. 'Wild West World, love.
Sealed off. Routine maintenance.'
Kate walked up to him and glared at him. Then let's get it open.'
Sir Gerry looked confused. 'Why would we want to do that, you daft lass?'
'Because,' said Kate patiently, 'it's just possible the Autons won't think of looking for us there. OK?'
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AUTONOMY
Sir Gerry narrowed his eyes for a moment, then he clamped his cigar back between his teeth and growled with approval. 'Good thinking,' he said. 'Now, if I can just remember the code...'
'Hurry up,' said Chantelle. 'Please,' she added with a quick smile.
Sir Gerry peered at her over his glasses. This sort of thing can't be hurried, young lady. Hyperville has a very sensitive security system!'
'Hug me.'
Kate whirled around. She could hear them, on the other side of the fire door, scratching at the metal.
And then the slamming began.
Kate stared at the thick fire door.
About half a metre above the ground, it was starting to buckle like wood.
'Sir Gerry!' she yelled.
'All right, love, keep your hair on!' He sighed, leaning over the keypad. 'I'm sure they changed the combination last week...'
A gash appeared in the metal fire door. A small pink fist punched its way through, and a second later one of the dolls, its eyes glowing crimson, tore its way into the lobby, ripping th
e fire door like paper, and poised to spring.
Reece grabbed the fire extinguisher and stepped forward. 'Right!' he yelled. 'I’ll get this one!'
Kate tried to stop him. 'Reece, no!'
He hurled it at the doll. The pink creature went sprawling, its head squashed cartoon-like into the shape of a frying pan. Then it somersaulted and, with a stomach-churning pop sound, its head squished back into its former shape again.
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DOCTOR WHO
And then it launched itself at Reece, knocking him off his feet, little pink hands clutching at his neck.
Horrified, Kate tried to go and pull the doll away from him - and felt her feet give way from under her as two other dolls, which had just come through the gap, grabbed her ankles and pulled her downwards.
Chantelle and Shaneeqi were pinned against the far wall, a line of dolls between them and the others.
Reece, choking and clutching at the doll which was pinned to his neck, began to turn purple...
'Well, Doctor?'
He looked up from the tangled mess of wiring which he had pulled out of a panel in the wall next to the pulsing pod in which the form of the Consciousness was contained.
Miss Devonshire stood there, hands on hips, booted feet planted firmly apart, eyebrows raised above her rimless glasses.
'Well...' The Doctor shrugged, pulled a face. There's some limited friction on the internal drive circuits. A bit of wear on the directional warp-shunt vectors, a touch of decay in the
anti-bumping
coagulant.
And
the
gravity
compensation diodes? Where did you get those? They've really seen better days. Apart from that, it's fine.' He straightened up, tapping his chin with his sonic screwdriver. 'But that's not a problem, is it, Miss Devonshire?'
She put her head on one side. 'What do you mean?'
'Because you don't want it to be able to get into space again. You don't want to use the warp shunt to get the Nestenes to a new breeding colony. No, what you want from the warp-shunt core is its raw power.'
174
AUTONOMY
Miss Devonshire's eyes were cold and hard. 'Just do it, Doctor.'
