"Ex Memoria"

21. Bigger on the Inside

Chicago, Illinois – in the year 2021

If it had been up to the Doctor, he might have just run out of the museum, as though he would magically find himself standing before the one they needed to find. But then after a brief search conducted by Chris, they had confirmed the person they sought to find was the painting's owner, and they had been given an address to go to. So while Mike and Tina followed Gillian up to her boss' office, the Doctor, Amy and Rory headed out in search of the painting's owner.

The Doctor was as good as a dog on a scent now. He had caught on to something, they couldn't say what, after sorting out the memory he'd pulled from Gillian, and now he intended to locate its source. None of them were prepared for what they found when the trail toward the owner's address and the source the Doctor had been tracking brought them to stand in front of a tall, imposing building that might have been an office building but that came off in the end more like an evil lair.

"Does anyone else feel a bit underdressed?" Rory commented.

"I don't," the Doctor shrugged, fixing his bow tie. Amy hardly seemed concerned either. So they went in.

Their silence hadn't been a decision, but it had fallen on them as heavy as thick snow. That was the sentiment this place inspired. It looked like something straight out of some futuristic movie, a sentiment only Amy and Rory shared, of course.

The primary reason for this feeling had been the glasses. All the employees they encountered wore the identical transparent glasses. They reminded Amy of the kind of thing one might put on before they went to cut wood or metal, but they looked more high tech, and sturdier, too.

"What do they all have those for?" she whispered to Rory.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" he told her. "Has to prevent them from being infected," Rory nodded confidently.

"Oh… right…" Amy tried not to look the way she felt for not having figured this out alone. Rory only nodded. They were all in the same boat at this point, trying to focus on keeping their memories in place while doing their best to still think straight.

"Right, everyone, follow my lead," the Doctor muttered as they approached the receptionist in her glass frames. "Excuse me, if I may speak to a Mr. John Brown. Important… art… business," he briefly explained, then bowed his head, satisfied. The receptionist barely paid him attention.

"Mr. Brown is unavailable at the moment, he…"

"He'll want to speak with me," the Doctor promised, flashing her the psychic paper. It was anyone's guess whether this would work or not. With the glasses, it might have been that it would interfere with the psychic paper as well as the memory infection. But instead the receptionist hurried from the desk and toward and office. When she returned, she indicated with all the courtesy in her for the Doctor and the others to step into the office.

They were brought beverages, while the Doctor and his companions were invited to sit and wait briefly until such a time as Mr. Brown became available, which the receptionist assured would not be long at all.

But by the time they had finished out their beverages, which they had done as slowly and casually as one might, they began to wonder if this promised promptness might not have been exaggerated. Ten minutes turned into twenty, and this doubled over as well, tripled even, until an hour had gone by.

In this time, they had all three of them done their best not to appear in any way perturbed, even though patience was not something they handled all that well at present time. The Doctor had dug a hand in his pocket, down near to the elbow, and pulled out a battered old edition – old with comparison to the amount of time the Doctor had possessed it, as it wouldn't be published for several hundred years – of the Mousetrap, and made an effort to concentrate on it instead of his rising frustration. In the meantime, Amy had shown herself developing the skill to push her own memories to Rory's head, and she used this, generally speaking, as a cheap trick to see if he would be able to keep from reacting. Judging by the rising flush in his ears, it was a struggle.

It wasn't until she overshot and ended up sending it to the Doctor, who promptly dropped his book and smacked a hand over his eyes, that she forced herself to stop, sitting properly again.

"I don't think he's coming," Rory whispered, his voice tremulous.

"No, I can't imagine he is," the Doctor agreed, eventually leaning forward to pick up his book and stuff it back into his pocket.

"So, they're protected, because of those glasses," Amy jumped in. "But we're not. And we've been sitting here all this time…" The Doctor stood.

"We should leave, while we still can, if we still… can… Rory, do you need a moment?" he asked, not meeting his eye. Rory looked to him, then back to Amy, then stood with a frown. "Good, now as calm and collected as possible, yes?" he instructed, and they did as told.

Amy half expected for some big burly guards, or possibly aliens, to stand in their way to stop them. None of it happened. They would leave the building without notice or incident, even after the Doctor had found a way to steal a couple of pairs of those protective glasses and stuck them in his pocket to join his book. Neither Amy nor Rory asked him what that was about, but they guessed they'd figure it out in time. If they could be glad of one thing, it was that the look on the Doctor's face suggested they had not wasted their time sitting in wait of the elusive Mr. Brown.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)