PART 2 - CURIOSER AND CURIOSER (AND CURIOSER)

The only answer was the voices rising in volume so that they were now too loud to be made out as individual sounds, up to and then way past the pain threshold, a deafening, unstopping, vibrating wall of sound that knocked the Doctor bodily to the ground, his hands pressed in vain against his ears, his face a twisted mask of agony........

Suddenly the Doctor was peripherally aware of movement, of something new. Through the sheer force of the chorus that was striking him, he could hear another voice, quite different, quite specifically located just behind him, and he could feel hands taking him by the arm. If he had wanted to resist, he would have been unable; as it was, it was all he could do to half rise against the assault on his senses. Like an aged, aged man he allowed himself to be led away. He could dimly see the face of his rescuer (at least, he hoped he was being rescued; if he was being taken to something worse then he'd rather just stay!) and he could make out its mouth moving, but as yet he could not identify what it was saying. There seemed to be concern etched on the face, which was probably a good sign. There was also a lot of hair - wild and straggly on the top, with an equally unkempt and unrestrained beard trailing half down the chest. A pale, gaunt figure, his face deeply lined with worry... And something else. There was something else evident on the newcomer's face - it looked like shock, or wonder...

The new arrival gently but firmly steered the Doctor down a passage, or into a cul-de-sac, or across a field, or whatever. The constant gloom still made it impossible for the Doctor to determine the layout or even the nature of his surroundings. Nevertheless, it was at least clear that his rescuer was taking him away from the howling, baying, damning collection of voices, as they began to fade away into the distance. Fade away, yes, but not disappear completely - even though they kept walking for at least ten minutes, the voices were still detectable as background noise. Eventually the figure stopped, seemingly at random, and the Doctor sank gratefully to the ground. His new acquaintance sank down beside him.

"Thank you" said the Doctor.

"You are more than welcome." A clearly-spoken voice, with no obvious accent.

The Doctor took a deep breath, collected what thoughts he had, and took the conversational initiative. He indicated, vaguely, the direction from which they had come. "What was all that? They were talking about me - and very loudly. Like some sort of psychic onslaught."

His rescuer smiled. "I think your presence got them all a bit excited."

"Oh, well, I do have that effect on people at times, yes. Their enthusiasm was a little overwhelming though."

"Yes, perhaps. But it is so good to see you here." There was almost a radiance to the man's face as he spoke. "I never thought I would live to see you come."

The Doctor considered this. "Were you expecting me then?" He had some vague foreboding about ancient prophecies and his arrival being foretold and all that sort of thing. Experience taught him that that sort of thing always landed him in trouble.

"Not expecting, no," the other replied, "But hoping yes; always hoping to see you."

"Ah!" This wasn't getting him anywhere fast. Time for another question perhaps. "What is this place? Who are you?" Or two.

"This place is the place of endless discussion, of council, of advice and opinion, of negotiation, of consideration, of thought and counter-thought, of argument, of debate." The man sighed. "But never of decision or consensus. A never-ending cycle of debate and counter-debate that never can be concluded." He indicated their surroundings. "In ironic echoing of which, this place is a closed circle, the paths going round and round and round without getting anywhere."

"That doesn't sound very comforting. So we're in a sort of inescapable maze?"

"Sort of. Perceptually, anyway. This place is only a conceptual representation of the abstract; it has no actual physical presence."

The Doctor put his hands to his face in some alarm, but was reassured to find that he at least still seemed to have a physical presence. "You know," he said, "your answers seem to be more confusing than my questions. What about the 'who are you' one?"

"I am a lost one."

"I'm sorry to hear that! What's a lost one?"

"A speaker without a voice, a name without a message. Whether through abandonment, or wilful neglect, or simple apathy, I am redundant, consigned to this place but unable to speak." The man sighed.

"Another confusing answer, excellent, full marks for consistency. Are there others like you then, these 'lost ones'?"

"There are." A pause. "But as a rule, we none of us like the company of others, not even ourselves. So we are very hard to find."

"So the other lost ones are all lost. That fits."

There was a moment's silence, while the Doctor tried (and failed) to make even a little sense of things. Then he stood upright. "Right then, is there a way out of here? Whether literal, physical, representative or just plain 'sort of'- anything will do, cat flap, emergency exit, stargate? Hm?"

The bearded man stood up alongside the Doctor. "There is, "he began hesitantly, "a way of contacting the-" he lowered his voice in an almost religious manner "-the outside world."

"That sounds just the thing. How do I do it?"

There was a long silence, while the lost one seemed to wrestle with himself. Finally some decision seemed to be arrived at: "Come, I will show you." With which he took the Doctor by the shoulder and led him into the gloom....

....After some ten minutes or so of walking, the lost one stopped, quite suddenly. So suddenly in fact, that the Doctor carried on for a good five yards before realising. He made his way back to the stranger, who reached out his hands, before encountering what was clearly some sort of wall. Albeit, a dull, gunship-metal grey, wall - but it was at least some sort of feature in this gloomy, indistinct environment.

"Here," said the man, in humbled tones. "This is the place."

"Where? I can't see anything." The Doctor reached out, touching the wall where the man indicated. The surface of the wall wasn't quite smooth, there were indentations at various points at about chest height... "Ah! It's a sign!" exclaimed the Doctor triumphantly.

"Just so," confirmed the guide. "It has never been used, or at least not for an impossibly long time."

"Bit of a clean," said the Doctor, cheerfully spitting on the end of his scarf, "that's all it needs."

The Doctor wiped across the sign once, revealing some of the letters:

E D T

He wiped again:

A E A OD R T R

And a third time. "Ah-hah!" The Doctor stood back a little, and read the legend revealed:

ALERT A MODERATOR