Marion wondered where exactly they were going. Kristoph had asked her
to meet him for tea in the Capitol and after they had eaten they had got
into the presidential limousine and, accompanied, of course, by the front
and back security cars, they had set out across the Red Desert.
“Are we visiting the Camp?” she asked, referring to the outward
bound school that began as a place of punishment and rehabilitation for
the young Arcalian Renegades and was now considered a highly desirable
place of learning which many Oldblood fathers had sent their boys to.
“Not this time,” Kristoph answered. “There’s something
else I want you to see.”
They were, in fact, heading north-west, the opposite direction to where
the camp was, well out of the way of the Dark Territory that was so much
trouble to any vehicle.
They were travelling very fast, though it was hard to tell looking out
of the window at an almost featureless scene. The sun beginning to set
on the right hand side of the presidential convoy was the only clue to
their speed and distance travelled. It dropped lower towards the horizon
every minute. To the west, the yellow sky deepened in colour to rust brown
while the sunset itself painted crimson red, orange and purple shades
across the eastern sky.
“Stop the car for a while,” Kristoph told his driver. The
presidential guard in the passenger seat was surprised, but he repeated
the command to the drivers of the escort cars and the convoy of three
hover limousines touched down on the sand.
The Lord High President got out of the car before his driver had time
to open the door for him. He took his wife’s hand as she stepped
out after him and walked a short way from the cars. The bodyguards quickly
organised themselves into a phalanx of protection, but they weren’t
needed. There was no threat in that empty piece of the desert in the last
minutes of the day.
“It’s beautiful,” Marion remarked. “It’s
like… Gone With the Wind but with more orange.”
Kristoph chuckled. That was possibly the most obscure way of describing
the sunset on the Red Desert. Poets of a bygone age had waxed lyrical
about it. Artists had reproduced it in iridescent oils and watercolours,
mosaic and stained glass.
But nobody had EVER called it Gone With The Wind with more orange.
“It’s beautiful,” Marion added. “Whatever way
it is described. “But surely we didn’t come all this way just
to watch the sunset?”
“No, we didn’t. But since we were here, I thought we might
enjoy it.”
The sun was almost completely set, now. Only a sliver remained. Then that,
too, was gone and it was like turning out a light. The desert became that
much darker. Marion looked up and saw the stars of the northern hemisphere
shining brightly in the brown-black sky.
“It’s getting cold, Kristoph remarked. “Let’s
get back in the car.”
Marion agreed. It WAS getting cold very quickly. When she first stepped
out of the temperature controlled car she had felt the dry heat radiating
up from the desert sand. Now it was cooling rapidly. She was glad to get
back into the car set to feel comfortable at her own blood temperature.
“So WHERE are we going?” she asked again. “Not to the
observatory at the pole, surely? I would have heard if there was an open
evening there. Your father would be excited about it, for one thing.”
Kristoph smiled and agreed. Astronomical events were the one thing his
father, at his great age, still took a youthful delight in – not
counting nights when his mother had put something in his nightcap, anyway.
“We’re not going quite that far. Just a few miles into the
temperate zone.”
It was fully dark by the time the desert gave way to tundra with a reasonably
comfortable temperature all year round. Few people lived here except in
mining colonies. It was too remote from the Capitol to attract the aristocratic
classes or businessmen who needed to be near the stock exchange in the
city.
But a glow in the distance resolved itself into an enviro-dome, and when
they entered through one of the portals, Marion gasped in surprise.
“But how can there be a city here?” she asked, staring at
the tall, majestic buildings on either side of a wide boulevard lined
with trees. The primary material used in the buildings was a red sandstone
like the desert, but that didn’t mean they were plain buildings
like the factories and terraced streets of Lancashire industrial towns.
Different shades of red from a pale rose-pink to deep burgundy decorated
the cornices, and almost every building had a spire reaching towards the
sky or a burnished bronze dome.
The open spaces had been planned, too. There were paved plazas with fountains
and parklands with red grass underfoot and carefully cultivated flower
beds.
“It isn’t REALLY here,” Kristoph said in reply to her
puzzled question. “Not yet. This is a hologram of what the new city
of Arcadia WILL look like when it has been built.”
Marion was speechless. She had seen some amazing things since coming to
Gallifrey, but this was absolutely incredible.
“WHY?” she managed to ask after several minutes.
“So that people can take a look at it and submit changes that might
need to be made, and also to buy the properties.”
“Buy a property that doesn’t even exist, yet?”
“It’s not that unusual,” Kristoph answered. “In
my time living on Earth, I don’t know how many brochures I got in
the post - for new city apartments that were still derelict warehouses
or villas on the Costa del Sol that were no more than artist’s impressions.”
“Yes, and I wouldn’t put a penny into a project like that,”
Marion told him. “And nor would you, I am sure.”
“Well, some of those city apartments in downtown Liverpool have
turned out very nice,” Kristoph answered. “But in this case,
the project has the guarantee of the highest authority on this planet.”
“YOU are the highest authority on this planet,” Marion pointed
out.
“Exactly. I have guaranteed that this city WILL be built. We don’t
have dodgy property deals on Gallifrey. The budget for the completion
of the development by two years this Septima was agreed. In case of cost
overrun an additional sum was also set aside.” He tapped on the
internal window and signalled to the driver. He stopped the limousine
outside a very beautiful building with its three floors decorated in coloured
bricks. There was a glass dome rising up from the roof and gardens and
playing fields all around it.
There was an identical building directly across the plaza. Marion wondered
why.
“Come and see what it will look like inside,” Kristoph said.
This time he let his chauffeur open the car door and he stepped out with
Presidential dignity before reaching for Marion’s hand. He ordered
his guards to maintain a low profile before he escorted his wife through
the hologram main doors into the hologram building.
“Oh, it’s a school!” Marion exclaimed as she looked
around the assembly hall with its glass domed roof. Leading off from it
on three balconied floors were classrooms, a library, music, art and drama
rooms and a science laboratory. It was everything a school ought to be.
“Why is there an identical building across the way?” she asked
again. “Don’t tell me one is for girls and one for boys.”
“Unfortunately, it isn’t as simple as that,” Kristoph
admitted. “This is the free school for Caretaker children. “The
other is for the fee-paying sons and daughters of the Newblood residents
of Arcadia.”
Marion looked at him sharply. Kristoph anticipated what was coming.
“I tried very hard for integration,” he said. “But too
many councillors were against it. I at least managed to ensure parity.
The schools will be identical in style and building materials, and they
will be equipped to the same standard down to the last electronic slate
and stylus on the last desk, and staffed with equally well qualified and
experienced teachers. That was the best I could do.”
“I… suppose that will do. but does that mean that the High
Council intends to pay for the education of Caretakers here in Arcadia?”
“They will pay for the staff and general maintenance,” Kristoph
conceded. “But it was my hope that a Lady of an Oldblood House with
a fortune in diamonds from her wedding dress still to dispose of might
want to endow the free school and ensure the next half dozen generations,
at least, will be educated to the very best standards.”
It was a few moments before Marion realised that he meant her. Then the
hologram walls and windows and the hologram marble floor with the seal
of Rassilon inlaid into it began to feel much more real as she imagined
the children, from the age of four to twenty, coming here first to be
prepared for the Untempered Schism, and then for entrance into one of
the Great Academies in the Capitol.
“Yes,” she decided. “I will do it. just as soon as I
can convert the diamonds into funds.”
“We’ll visit my broker next week,” Kristoph promised.
“Lady Dúccesci will be pleased. Malika was the strongest
opponent of integration, but his wife was as anxious as you that the free
school would be fully equipped.”
“Talitha is a good woman,” Marion agreed. “I do wonder
about Lord Dúccesci sometimes, though. Why would he oppose a school
where all students would be equal?”
“Because they wouldn’t be equal. It would be obvious who was
a free student and who was paying their fees. The lines of demarcation
would be set in at the age of four, and they would never be crossed except
for fights between Newblood and Caretaker and instances of bullying.”
“Kristoph, it sounds as if you agree with him,” Marion noted.
“Put that way, I do,” he answered. “Arcadia isn’t
the place to break down class barriers. The best we can do is build fine
new homes for the working class of our population and provide this school
and other means of advancement for those who work hard.”
“I suppose there is no other way,” Marion conceded.
“There isn’t. Now, if you’ve seen enough of your school,
there is somewhere else I want to see. We’ll pass the library on
the way. I am sure you and Talitha will be forming a committee to ensure
it is filled with the decadent works of D.H. Lawrence as well as the greatest
literature of the twelve galaxies.”
“We most certainly WILL,” Marion answered. She quietly anticipated
meeting with Talitha Dúccesci and Lady Arpexia among others to
make such plans. When she saw the beautifully appointed building with
its own mini-plaza full of fountains and sculpture, she knew it would
be a task equal to all of the smaller free libraries she had seen established
in townships across the southern plain.
But they left the main thoroughfare where the public buildings would be
and came to a residential neighbourhood where some very elegant apartment
buildings and houses were planned. Marion was surprised to see a small
crowd outside one such structure – eight storeys high and topped
by a floor entirely made of wrought iron and glass as if somebody had
put a huge hothouse on the roof.
The crowd were there for an auction. These private buildings were for
sale even before they were built, to the highest bidder. Marion looked
at the faces in the crowd and recognised Lord Hext and Lord Dúccesci,
Ravenswode, slightly aloof and not talking to anyone, and several others
that she knew. A lot of wealthy men were interested in buying property
in the new city.
Kristoph talked to a few of his friends and colleagues, but he gave no
indication of his interest in the property. When the auction began he
didn’t take part, he just watched the proceedings.
Then just as Lord Ravenswode thought he had cleared off all opposing bids
Kristoph named his own price. Ravenswode was so surprised to be outbid
by the Lord High President he forgot to make a counter bid. The auction
was over and Kristoph owned a building.
Or so it seemed. Marion was by his side when he sealed the deal with a
cash deposit that he had brought with him. She heard him tell the agent
to make out the title deed for the apartment building to Rodan Mielles.
She gasped in surprise but said nothing until the transaction was complete
and he put the crisp new parchment deed inside his robe for safe-keeping.
“I told you I would make sure Rodan’s future was secure,”
he said. “This is her dowry if she chooses it to be. It is her independence
if she doesn’t want to marry. There are eight apartments to collect
rents from, or seven if she elects to live in one of them.”
“You did this… to show me that you meant what you said. Because
it is obvious I won’t live long enough to see her leave the Academy
as an educated woman and decide her own destiny.”
“I did it because it is a very good investment,” Kristoph
replied. “Arcadia is going to be a very desirable place to live.
But there is that, too.”
“You’re wonderful,” Marion told him. She reached to
kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, from me. I don’t imagine
Rodan will be entirely excited about it just yet. But it will be ideal
when she is a grown woman.”
“I’m glad you approve. Now, shall we head back to the Capitol.
Dúccesci has invited us to stay the night at his town house. You
and Talitha can start hatching your plans for the library before dinner.”
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