Doctor Who_ Happiness Patrol Part 1

DOCTOR WHO.

THE HAPPINESS PATROL.

by GRAEME CURRY.

1.

The woman wanted to die. When the Happiness Patrol had taken away her husband she had at first refused to give in, for the sake of her son. But now that her son had disappeared, along with thousands of other innocent victims, she had nothing left to live for. She wrapped her dark cape around her and trudged down the street. She didn't know where she was going and she didn't care.

'Over here,' said a voice that seemed to come from nowhere.

Peering through the gloom she could just make out a bench beneath a streetlight, and on the bench a shadowy figure.

'You need to rest.'

The voice sounded friendly and inviting. The woman moved to the bench and sat down.

'That's better.' The kindness was too much to endure.

The tears came suddenly, flowing down her cheeks in great cascades.

'Here.' The figure on the bench lowered the newspaper he was reading and offered her his handkerchief. Through the blur of her tears, the woman could make out a man in a trilby. He was dressed, like her, in dark, drab clothes. She saw that the newspaper was a copy of The Grief The Grief, the killjoy undercover publication. So he was one of the killjoys. She knew she was safe with him.

'Do you want to talk about it?' His voice was gentle.

'I don't talk to strangers.'

He ignored the bitterness in her voice. 'Perhaps I can help.'

'I didn't ask for any help.'

'But we both know you can't sit here like this,' said the man in the trilby. 'It's dangerous.'

'It's too late,' she replied. 'I don't care any more. Let them find me.'

There was silence for a few moments, as she dried her tears. Then the man spoke softly to her.

'You don't have to face your suffering alone, you know.'

'What do you mean?' she asked.

'There's a place,' he said, 'a secret place, where some of us go to indulge our depressions, to share our miseries with other killjoys like you and me.'

She knew she was a killjoy, but refused to admit it, even to herself. 'I am not a killjoy!'

'That's what they would call you,' said the man. 'Are you interested?'

She suddenly realized that here was a way of avenging the deaths in her family she could fight for the killjoys.

She had nothing to lose, but she remained cautious.

'Perhaps,' she said.

The man smiled. 'It changed my life.' He reached into his coat. 'Look, here's my card.' The woman hesitated. 'Go on. Take it.'

Taking the card, she read the name embossed in black ink. 'Silas P.'

'No,' said Silas P, 'look at the other side.'

She turned over the card and stared in disbelief at the words before her. 'But it says...'

'Happiness Patrol,' barked Silas P triumphantly, 'undercover!' Before the woman had time to react, Silas P blew into a small silver whistle. The harsh tone echoed in the empty street. Silas P removed the whistle from his mouth and smiled gently at the woman.

'Time to get really depressed!' he said.

As he spoke, a military jeep rounded the corner and screeched to a halt before them. The woman briefly saw the uniforms of the Happiness Patrol before she was blinded by the powerful arc lights that were trained on her.

Daisy K, the patrol lieutenant, stepped out of the jeep and aimed her fun gun at the terrified woman.

'Have a nice death!' she said.

The Happiness Patrol opened fire.

Ace stepped out of the TARDIS. They seemed to be in a town square that was dominated by an imposing building with steps leading up to its doors. Next to it she saw a small scruffy doorway with the words STAGE DOOR painted above it. Perhaps the building was a concert hall or theatre. She glanced around the rest of the square. At first sight it seemed a cheerful sort of place, painted in bright colours. But when she looked closer, she could see that the paint was faded; in some places it was peeling off the walls.

Opposite the theatre there were two huge faces painted on the wall, one happy, one sad. The scene reminded her of something from her childhood.

The Doctor was thinking about dinosaurs, his mind still on a recent conversation with Ace. 'How about a triceratops?' he said, coming out of the TARDIS.

'A triceratops?' said Ace. She could never remember which dinosaurs were which.

'Horned dinosaur with a mouth like a beak. The Brigadier saw one in the London Underground,' said the Doctor by way of explanation.

Ace wanted to meet a dinosaur. 'Have you seen a tyrannosaurus rex?' she asked.

'I've met quite a few, actually,' he said.

'Wicked!' said Ace, her eyes shining. 'And pterodactyls?'

The Doctor was getting bored. 'Lots of pterodactyls, Ace.'

'Evil!'

'Maybe we should pay a little visit sometime,' said the Doctor.

'To the Earth?' said Ace. 'During the Cretaceous period?'

'It would be a good time for dinosaurs,' said the Doctor, looking round the square.

'I love dinosaurs,' said Ace wistfully, 'but I hate that.'

There were several ornate loudspeakers in the square: one hung from a beautifully fashioned wrought-iron balcony; another was fastened to a pale blue wall high above them.

They were broadcasting music across the square, but it was not real music not music with any kind of feeling or pa.s.sion. Ace remembered this kind of music from the London of the 1980s, where it pervaded department stores, shopping centres, hotels and waiting rooms.

'Lift music,' she snorted contemptuously. Suddenly she didn't like this planet very much. 'Where are we, Professor?'

'Terra Alpha,' said the Doctor. 'What do you mean, lift music?'

'Like they play in lifts,' said Ace impatiently. For a Time Lord, there were surprising gaps in the Doctor's knowledge. 'What's Terra Alpha, anyway?'

'A planet,' said the Doctor. 'An Earth colony settled some centuries in your future. Do you like it?'

'No.'

'Neither do I. Why not?'

'Too phoney,' said Ace. She now knew what it reminded her of. Years ago her parents had taken her to a pantomime in Ealing. She had loved it. After the show, she was allowed to walk on the stage and look at the scenery. She discovered that the emperor's palace was a crudely painted backcloth and that the magic lamp was an old tin can bent into shape. She felt cheated. That was what Terra Alpha reminded her of: the crumbling illusion. She felt cheated again.

The Doctor was speaking: 'Yes, I've been hearing disturbing rumours about Terra Alpha. I decided I'd look in some time.'

'So tonight's the night?' Ace was ready.

'Tonight's the night,' said the Doctor. 'Rumours of something evil, Ace. We have to find out what's behind it all.'

Silas P knelt before Helen A as she fastened a small badge to his tunic. They were in the headquarters of the Happiness Patrol, a small room in the heart of the palace the nerve centre of Terra Alpha.

'Your third badge, Silas P,' said Helen A. 'Forty-five killjoys to your credit. Impressive work I'm very happy.'

'I'm glad you're happy,' said Silas P. But Helen A, although his superior and, indeed, the governor of Terra Alpha, was not always right. 'But it's forty-seven, actually.'

'I do the counting, thank you, Silas,' snapped Helen A, irritated by his presumption.

'Sorry, ma'am.'

'Still, I like your initiative, your enterprise,' said Helen A. She was genuinely impressed with Silas's dedication.

The Happiness Patrol needed more members with his single-mindedness. 'I'll see that you go far.'

Silas had never had such an intimate conversation with Helen A before, and was encouraged to confide in her. 'I'm aiming at the top,' he said.

This, however, was a mistake. Helen A had always admired ambition, but not when it threatened her supremacy. 'Not quite the very top, I hope, Silas,' she said mildly.

Silas P was dismissed and Helen A moved through her personal suite of rooms. She observed with distaste Joseph C, her consort, slumped in front of a television set.

'What are you watching?' she asked.

Joseph C came to with a start. He consulted a box on the arm of the chair. 'It's a video of something called "Routine disappearance number four hundred and ninety-nine thousand and eighty-seven".'

Helen A glanced at the monitor. She saw the screaming face of Silas P's latest victim in a huge close-up, moments before her death.

'Switch it off, dear,' she said. 'That's for my eyes only.

And besides, we're missing my broadcast.'

She scooped up the remote control and changed the television channel. She smiled as an image of herself filled the screen. She was pleased with what she saw. Her image consultants had done her proud. She listened to her soft voice intoning her weekly address to her citizens.

'Finally, Joseph C and I would like to thank you all for your sterling work in helping to track down the killjoys and report them to the authorities,' said the image. 'I would also like to take this opportunity to squash the persistent rumours about mysterious "disappearances" and emphasize that rural and urban areas are now enjoying a life of harmony and peace. I'm sure you're glad to hear this.

And I'm happy you're glad.'

Helen A was pleased with the effect of this speech, and was concentrating on the screen, but saw Joseph C out of the corner of her eye, trying to slip unnoticed out of the room. 'I think you should watch this, darling,' she said pleasantly. Joseph C moved quickly back to his chair.

'You'll find it instructive.' Helen A returned to the monitor. Her image was ending the speech. 'So remember enjoy yourselves! Happiness will prevail!'

2.

Ace's feet were beginning to hurt. They seemed to have walked for miles but they still couldn't escape from the lift music the loudspeakers were everywhere.

'This music's winding me up, Professor,' she said.

The Doctor agreed. 'Makes you wonder how the natives can stand it.'

Ace suddenly realized that they hadn't seen a soul, human or alien, since they had arrived on Terra Alpha. 'I haven't seen any natives,' she said.

'There's one,' said the Doctor. A small dapper man in a bowler hat and dark suit was approaching. He was dressed soberly apart from a bright yellow tie, and was carrying a clipboard. He pointed at Ace.

'Name?' he asked.