Im reading through a doctor who novel at the moment and there are some lines in the first few pages that sound as though they were copied/or taken from two movies. Try and guess what two movies that came to my mind. I will put in part of chapter.
The road back into Lychburg wound through a series of wooded hills, branching several times, and in the night it was easy to get lost. Norman swore under his breath and glanced between the two unmarked roads available at the junctions. If other traffic had been around, he could have just gone with the general flow,but due to some freak of timing there was no other vehicle in sight. Norman was sufficiently adolescent to place a premium on looking cool in front of his girl - or at least, not looking the precise opposite - and to wander aimlessly through the back roads for an hour would look, he thought, uncool in the extreme.
'I think we should go left;'Myra said. It wasn't so much what she said as the way she said it, but he felt an almost physical paroxysm of relief. It was as if she had read his mind, and seen his secret dread of girl-contempt, and had made damn sure that what she said contained not a single trace of it. Mr Hecht had talked in his class about teenage hormones, Norman recalled, how they made you sorta crazy and confused, how they made you blow the tiniest of things out of all proportion - but knowing that it happened and why it happened were not much when it was you who were going through it.
'Yeah, OK,' Norman said. 'We'll go left.;
the road led upwards, but in the dark the twists and turns contrived to mask how steep the incline in fact was - until they came to a bluff beyond which were sprawled the lychburg city lights. You could make out the neon signs of Main Street, the lit-up clock face of city hall which had stopped several years ago when it had been damaged by a lighting strike. You could see right across the city, even to the darkness of the hills and the tiny lights of the Drive-o-Rama beyond...
The towering embarrassment of adolescence hit Norman again as he realised he had parked in one of Lychburg's seriously notorious make-out spots without really meaning to.
He started to apologies, but Myra was resting herself warm and casual against him.
'It's beautiful, isn't it?' she said in a voice that told Norman she had known precisely where the left turn she'd suggested led. 'I love it up here. I always love it when i come up here.
What do you think? When you look at the City. What do you feel?'
'Well, yeah uh...' Norman tried to sort out his feelings the question prompted. There had been something vaguely disquieting about the way that Myra had said City, as though the word were capitalised, as though this was in some sense the only name Lychburg could ever had or need. 'Yeah, well, its home, isn't it? it's our home town. it's where we grew up. Everything we know. Its just that sometimes..'
'Yes?' said Myra. Her voice was completely neutral: a simple prompt that triggered no fight-or-flight animal danger signals
whatsoever.
it's just sometimes it seems so small,' said Norman. it's like we live our little lives here, go to school and go to work and the movies, and none of it really means anything. I mean, there's a big wide world out there and...
'There is no other world,' said Myra, voice still perfectly neural. No human content to it at all. 'There is no World but the City.'
'What are you talking about? Just down the road from the drive-in there's...'
Norman's voice trailed off as his thoughts slipped over the edge of some mental cliff. A chaos of partially formed images struck him - images of a road similar to those which ran from Lychburg to the drive-in, only somehow wider and with any number of roads running parallel, all of them packed with pod-like cars; images of places that were like the town of Lychberg but entirely different in some way that he could not pin down; images of huge and unimaginably complicated places with strange buildings and people who looked and moved in different...
Norman had been conscious of the outside, larger world in the same way he was conscious of having a right hand. It was something that you simply did not actively think about. The thought just never occurred. Now that it had, he realised, it was like falling into some mental void . There were places outside, and those places had names - but now that he tied to think of them, now that he tried to imagine some world other than, and outside from, the Lychburg city limits, he could not think of a single one.
Not one.
From down below, at the bottom of the bluff, he heard a sharply detonative sound like a rifle shot or a thunderclap close up - as though the air itself had split apart as something burst through it. There was the sound of some strange mechanism whirring to a stop.
'Your thought process as become erratic.; Myra said in flat inhuman tones, in the way some science guy might discuss a bug under a glass slide. 'Complexity of the host- sensorium is resurfacing. Starting to remember. the signifiers of the world are collapsing, deconstructing under an atypical and excessive sense of psychic introspection. Clearly, it has been infected by the forces of Discontinuity.;
For the first time since they had parked here on the cliff-edge, Norman looked at her - turned to really look at her.
physically she looked unchanged, but there was a hideous sense of wrongness about her, the positioning of her limbs, the muscles that moved them, set in postures that had no humanity about them; relaxed or tensed in manners that no human being could ever achieve.
her eyes were clear and steady and direct, with nothing, absolutely nothing, living inside them.
'The Continuity must be protected; she said, and with an entirely relaxed and casual manner she reached up her hand to plunge its splayed-open fingers deep within Norman Manley's eyes.
This is an extract from the Doctor Who novel: HEART OF TARDIS.
now can you think of two movies in which you might find something like this. The bold bits are the main things i wanted to point out. If you leave a comment about your guess i will tell you mine.
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