Los Angeles, August 1965
The Doctor and Roz stared as fire swept throught Watts. Roz
understood the reaction: they’d spent several weeks here; seen
the way black Americans lived.
“How can anyone treat people so badly, just because of the
colour of their skin?”
“And you think that the alliens in the Undercity were any better
off?”
“But that’s not the same, they’re alien scum, they’re different”
The Doctor touched Roz’s black hand with his white fingers.
“Difference, the same excuse they’re using here: the same excuse
the Daleks use. It is still racism. Sometimes I don’t know why
I like humans at all.”
