~~~
The TARDIS whirled through Space/Time. Its last stop had
been somewhere the Doctor was sure, he’d told Amy, that she’d love. ‘The
Arcadia Institute!’ the Doctor said as he’d punched the coordinates into the
TARDIS’s navigational computer. ‘It’s a botanical preserve just a smidge beyond
the Horsehead Nebula. Home to all manner of flora rescued from planets on the
verge of destruction, some of them the most beautiful in the universe. Quite
magical. It’ll blow you away, Pond.’
Having left the Institute, the Doctor revealed where they
were going next: the planet Lal Shanoor. ‘To see, specifically,’ he went on,
‘the Dalin Mountains. The snow that caps them is the colour of gold. Very,
very, cool! We’ll fly in close so we can get the best view.’
As they waited at the console to arrive, a honking burst
across the soft surge of the engines. Amy sighed. Wonder what this is… So far
in her travels with the Doctor, loud noises in the TARDIS were never a good
sign. ‘Doctor – ’
‘It’s not a big deal, Pond, no stress. It’s just the early
warning signal that we’re about to run low’ish on fuel.’ The Doctor fussed a
row of instruments to his left and the noise died.
‘So,’ Amy said, ‘where does the TARDIS fill up, then?’
‘Cardiff.’
She flashed him a sour smile. ‘Yeah, yeah, very funny.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Nice one, chuckles. Hilarious.’
‘It’s not a gag.’
Amy gawped. ‘Wales! Shut your mouth! What the hell does an
alien time machine need in Wales?’ Amy thought again. On reflection, it made as
much sense as anything else around the Doctor. ‘You know what? I don’t know
what I’m talking about. With the atmosphere of super weirdness round here, this
thing refuelling in ‘Gavin & Stacey’ land sounds just about right.’
The Doctor smiled. ‘Very true, Pond – and it’ll be fine this
time around.’
‘Oh? What went on? And just what does the TARDIS get from
Cardiff?’
‘Well, there was a problem that’s now been dealt with so
it’s no longer a problem. But this problem sent things totally bonkers and we
got blasted to Malcassairo. Worst – planet – ever! It’s at the very end of the
universe and, appropriately enough – given that it’s just rocks, feral humans
and endless night – it’s the very last place you’d want to be. Ooh, but they
did have a big, rocket-y thing there, too. That was awesome. I love a big,
rocket-y thing!
‘Anyway, that was then and this, very definitely, is now.
So, we’ll put Lal Shanoor on hold and make a pit stop. We’ve ages before we get
the really serious fuel warning but, knowing my life, tonnes of things could
get in the way…’ The Doctor began to reset the coordinates.
‘Er, hullo..?’ Amy said, frowning. ‘Keeping me hanging,
here..! You haven’t answered my question – about what powers the TARDIS?’
The Doctor looked at her and stopped what he was doing.
‘Question? Ah yes, of course! Sorry… Yes, I do get into a world of my own. Hang
on, give me two secs.’ The Doctor’s face darted back to the navigation computer
and he finished laying in the course. ‘So,’ he said, turning to Amy, ‘why
Cardiff? Well, because above the city is a dimensional rift that has lashings
of something called Artron energy. Takes about twelve hours for the TARDIS to
suck up enough Artron-y goodness to fill the tank.’
A speaker to the Doctor’s right began a long, electronic
squeal, like a note pulled from a theremin. ‘Oh, here we go...’ Amy said. Maybe
that early warning came a bit too late…
‘Listen, are you sure – ’
‘Oh, it’s nothing to do with the fuel situation,’ the Doctor
said casually, his hands flapping. ‘It’s quite different. Yes, haven’t heard
this particular announcement in a while… Last time, I got a solarium and a
karaoke bar – ooh, and a new Zero Room!’
‘Karaoke bar? What are you talking about?’
‘Just watch.’
The squeal stopped and a panel above the speaker opened.
From below, what looked to Amy like a mini DVD player rose on a stand. Its lid
had a plaque which read Finite Occupancy Terminal. The Doctor opened the lid,
revealing a screen on its other side. Below was a computer keypad. The screen
showed a message, in capitals of green’ish copper:
‘TARDIS HAS REACHED FINITE
OCCUPANCY,’ Amy read. ‘IN ORDER TO MANAGE NEW ENVIRONMENTS, SELECT STRUCTURUAL
ADDITIONS FOLDER. OPEN NEW ENVIRONMENTS MENU AND FOLLOW RETAIN/DELETE OPTIONS.’
She frowned. Finite Occupancy?
‘This is one of the best things the TARDIS does,’ the Doctor
said. ‘The dear old darling!’ He patted the console. ‘Isn’t she a honey? A
percentage of her space, Amy, is developmental; meaning, therefore, that she
grows new rooms – and their contents, of course! – whatever she thinks might
tickle my fancy or that I’ll genuinely need. Well, actually, the creative
energy involved isn’t just all for me. The TARDIS reserves a bit for the
console room, you see, because she likes to do the occasional make-over.
Anyway, as the TARDIS creates the rooms, she tweaks the pre-existing
architecture around them and fixes things so stuff doesn’t get all squashed up.
The creation process takes hundreds of years. And when there’s no more space
left in the developmental portion, Finite Occupancy is reached. Ta da! The
TARDIS is full and I get a message so I can decide what to keep and what to
chuck.’
‘So, you can lose rooms?’
‘That’s right. It means the architecture can be managed
according to the operator’s preferences. I’m probably not going to want
everything she makes, you see – she knows me but she doesn’t know everything.’
‘Hang on,’ Amy said. ‘So what would happen if you ever got
to a point when, you know, what with dumping rooms and keeping others, you had
a perfect mix and didn’t want to shed anything? Would the TARDIS stop growing
new stuff?’
‘Yes. The growth impulse would go into hibernation because
there’d be no space left. And that’s exactly what happens at the Finite
Occupancy point, and for the same reason. In both scenarios, new rooms can only
start growing if and when I decide to make changes that free some space for
them.’
The surge of the engines fired up as the TARDIS began to
materialize. ‘Hello, Cardiff!’ the Doctor said and moved around the console to
the engineering panel. He flicked a dial that sat below two levers that always
reminded Amy of the gear stick of her Ford Focus.
When the engines stopped, the Doctor pulled down the levers.
‘Engine Filters open. Now, let’s see what she’s come up with...’ Going back to
the terminal, he started to type. ‘OK… Ah – there’s the folder... Open Menu…
Blimey! Some of these are no-brainers. Aerodrome? Fifty extra miles of
cloister? Don’t – want – those.’ The Doctor took a notebook and pencil from his
inside jacket pocket. ‘Right, let’s make some lists.’
Fourteen hours later…
Keep
Art studio
Back parlour
Crystallography lab
Model village
Operating theatre
Pitches (Football, Croquet)
Woodwork room
Chuck
Aerodrome
Bakery
Bingo hall
Cloister (additional)
Drum circle
Gymnasium complex
Martial Arts dojo
Parlours (front/middle)
Scriptorium
Ski slopes (dry)
TV lounge
‘… and wine cellar. Yeah, happy with all those.’ The Doctor
closed his notebook and slipped it into his jacket. ‘Sorry about all the
rechecking, Pond, all the changes of mind; I want to make sure I’ve got this
right as all decisions are final.’
‘No worries,’ Amy said. She pointed. ‘Don’t forget your
pencil.’
‘Oh, right – thank you,’ the Doctor said. He took it from
behind his right ear and put it with his notebook. ‘Fun fact: Leonardo did the
ear thing with his pencil. Saw that when he was taking a break from making
sketches for ‘The Last Supper’ – ooh, and Van Gogh did it too, so I’m told.’
‘Oh, I love his paintings,’ Amy said.
‘Yeah?’
‘Oh yeah. ‘The Starry Night’, ‘Sunflowers’… The one with the
café…’
‘I’m a big fan, too. Actually, you know, all this talk about
Van Gogh has made me just really wanna go – right now – and check out some of
his pictures face to face.’
‘Hell, yeah! Sounds awesome, let’s do it.’ Can’t wait, Amy
thought.
‘Right, that’s that,’ the Doctor said, snapping his fingers.
‘We’re bumping Lal Shanoor for Paris. There’s at least one gallery there with
the great man’s stuff, I’m sure – anyway, back to business. So then, after much deliberation, no further
changes to be made, provisional room choices are logged: Now, let’s lock them
in – keep.’ The Doctor pressed a key on the terminal’s keypad. He pressed a
second. ‘Chuck.’
From all around, Amy heard a riot of deep clicks, knocks and
bumps. After thirty seconds or so they faded out. The Doctor then shut the
terminal and it dropped away, the panel sliding back over. ‘And there we are,’
he said. ‘So: Paris! Let’s put some miles between here and there.'
~~~
Across
the TARDIS, moments after the Doctor had put away the terminal, rooms began to grow.
written by
JACK LAWRENCE
copyright 2020
artwork by
COLIN JOHN
copyright 2020