Doctor Whom or ET Shoots and Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Parodication by Adam Roberts

are.’
    ‘And this is the location of our mission?’ Linn asked.
    ‘Oh yes.’
    ‘So where are we, exactly?’
    ‘According to my screen here,’ said the Dr, ‘we’re on a planet called, um.’
    ‘Um?’ I said.
    ‘The Planet Um is in the Hesitant System,’ Linn explained, in a superior voice, ‘orbiting the Star Sch.’
    ‘No, not um,’ said the Dr. ‘That was me pausing, trying to read the iddly-bittly typeface on this . . . Hell. That’s what it’s called.’
    ‘Hell,’ I said. ‘That doesn’t bode well.’
    ‘Well,’ said the Dr, airily. ‘I wouldn’t read too much into that. It might be that Hell means something very pleasant and inoffensive in the local language. Something like, I don’t know, Chicken Korma. Or Eiderdown. Or something.’
    ‘Never mind all this chatter,’ said Linn, impatiently. ‘Let’s sort out this mission. It’s placing an apostrophe on an official sign, I think you said. Let’s go do it! Let’s place that apostrophe!’
    The Dr was peering carefully at the screen. His brow had furrowed. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Hmm. Yes . . . well, that could prove a little tricky. Nope, we can’t leave the TARDY. I’m afraid.’
    ‘Why can’t we leave the TARDY ?’ Linn asked.
    ‘Well let me see if I can explain,’ said the Dr, running a very unspringy and indeed bone-based hand through his springy, boneless hair. ‘On Earth, where you come from . . .’ He paused.
    ‘I know I come from Earth,’ I said.
    ‘Yes, yes. Don’t interrupt me. I get distracted. Earth - on Earth, where you , Prose, originated - on Earth there is a substance known to scientists as oxygen . It’s in the air.’
    ‘This,’ said Linn, speaking for the both of us, ‘we know.’
    ‘Well, this world, this planet Hell, has - well, to put it in technical scientific language, it has no oxygen in the air.’
    ‘I see.’
    ‘You don’t sound surprised?’
    ‘I’m not,’ I said. ‘I mean, I’m assuming it’s pretty rare that you land on a world with precisely human-breathable air. As I understand it, the oxygen levels even on Earth have fluctuated quite considerably over the last forty thousand years. In the rest of the cosmos - well I’d guess that a million forms of life have evolved breathing everything from argon to zeon. Assuming zeon is a gas. Or am I thinking of neon? Anyway, anyway, the point is, I’d assume that perhaps one in a trillion planets have atmospheres breathable by creatures such as us.’
    ‘Well,’ said the Dr, ‘Hmm. It’s. Actually it’s quite complicated. ’
    ‘Is it? How?’
    The Dr tapped at the monitor and brought up a visual representation of the world outside the TARDY. The scene displayed was of rolling hills covered in green grass, a pale blue sky, a bright yellow sun. It looked inviting. I mean, apart from the fact that the hills were rolling. I don’t, incidentally, use rolling as a merely metaphoric or conventionalised description of the hills. These hills were literally rolling. Some hidden geologic force was slowly rotating them like colossal, green horizontal kebabs. They were grassy all over, though; and there were cows and even little rabbits visible upon them, who didn’t seem too bothered by being dipped under the earth for long minutes. When they popped up again, they were still happily munching the grass. I assumed that their feet, or hooves, were adapted so as to be able to cling to the turf whilst it was upended. But I was unable to check my theory, because the Dr refused to open the door.
    ‘I can’t open the door,’ he said, again.
    ‘It looks very pleasant outside,’ I pointed out.
    ‘You two, you’re not, you aren’t paying attention to what I say,’ he complained. ‘There’s no oxygen . Right? Step through that door and you’ll choke.’
    ‘Well alright,’ said Linn, in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. ‘I’m assuming you have breathing apparatus? For all the occasions when you visit planets that don’t happen to have