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triumph! Even though he should suffer or be destroyed–and by his own invention! What a triumph!
    He tried to open the door and get out, but it was useless. He couldn’t move. He could not escape. Finally he was forced to turn and stare at the machine, to move towards it... as though programmed himself, unable to break the pattern.
    He was in a trance as he stood before Wotan. ‘What do you want of me?’ he asked.
     

4. Servant turned Master
    Gradually Dodo realised that she was not enjoying herself. She couldn’t think why, for she had been dancing, and chatting to the others. She was at the table when Polly and Ben came off the floor.
    ‘Things look a little brighter now, do they, sailor?’ laughed Kitty.
    ‘Who wants to go to the West Indies anyhow!’ agreed Ben.
    Kitty shook her head at Polly. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ she said.
    ‘Just a knack, love,’ grinned Polly.
    ‘You can have a job here any time,’ Kitty told her. ‘I like the one I’ve got,’ said Polly.
    Dodo listened to the cheerful talk around her, but it didn’t seem real. What should have been a party was being spoilt by something she couldn’t put her finger on.
    ‘You all right, love?’ Polly was quick to notice the other girl’s silence.
    ‘I’ve got a headache,’ said Dodo.
    ‘It’s this noise,’ agreed Ben. ‘That disco beat could bust your eardrums.’
    ‘It’s a sort of humming noise,’ explained Dodo. ‘It’s been coming and going since I was in your office... There! It’s stopped again, I’ll be all right.’ She smiled. ‘Great,’ said Ben. ‘Okay, Polly. On your feet.’
    ‘Here we go again,’ sighed Polly as she let Ben lead her back amongst the dancers.
    Dodo waited until they were lost in the crowd, then she put her fingers to her ears. The noise of humming, like the sound of a dynamo, blotted out everything. She couldn’t understand how no one else heard it. It was so real, so insistent... She was hardly able to think. The room, the music, the dancers – everything receded. The noise and laughter seemed to die away. She wondered whether the lights were really growing dimmer...
    She had to get away from this place...
    She wondered what was happening to her.
    Sir Charles had decided to close the conference. ‘Sorry, gentlemen. I’m afraid Professor Brett isn’t going to make it. Something important must have turned up. We’ll issue a statement..
    He broke off as Brett hurried into the room, pushing past the Doctor without appearing to recognise him. The Doctor noted the strained expression on his face, and the fact that Brett was wearing a raincoat and gloves.
    ‘Sorry I couldn’t attend,’ called out Brett. His voice sounded different to the Doctor – impersonal, detached, as though he were reading a speech.
    ‘It was... unavoidable,’ went on Brett. ‘Apologies.’ ‘Now you’re here,’ said Sir Charles, ‘you might like to tell our guests something about –’
    Brett interrupted curtly. ‘I’m afraid I’ve no time. I must speak to Professor Krimpton.’
    Sir Charles was indignant. ‘The Press have come here on our invitation –’
    ‘This is urgent.’ Brett brushed him aside. ‘Where is.. ah, there you are, Krimpton.’
    ‘You wish to see me?’ Krimpton was taken aback. ‘Please come with me,’ said Brett.
    ‘I’m from the New York Daily Sketch... ’ called out someone from the floor.
    ‘No comment,’ said Brett. He took Krimpton by the arm.
    ‘You haven’t heard the question,’ shouted the journalist.
    ‘I can tell you nothing,’ said Brett. He was leading Krimpton from the room.
    The Doctor noted the glazed look in Brett’s eyes. This was not the same man he had met that morning. The warmth had gone... He seemed to be driven along by some internal force.
    ‘Deus ex machina,’ whispered the Doctor to himself. ‘In one sense or another.’
    He watched the two men leave the room, then made his way through the crowd of journalists – now with a