The Long Earth

Cindy.

I can’t tell you how proud I am. On Helen’s birthday too. (Thanks, Dad!)

So I have one extra chore to perform today. That town sign of ours needs modifying:

WELCOME TO REBOOT

FOUNDED 2026, A.D.

POP. 117 118

And in a sky on the other side of the world a gaudy airship hovered in the dawn light, listening to such whispered stories, before it vanished into deeper stepwise realities.

26

JOSHUA WOKE UP. The big woollen throw he preferred to sleep under was slightly musty, rather heavy, somehow very reassuring. Outside, he saw through his stateroom window, Earths flickered by. There was the endless Eurasian forest, sometimes burning, occasionally covered in snow. Another morning on the Mark Twain.

He carefully negotiated his way out of bed, had a shower, dried himself off and slipped the monkey bracelet on to his wrist. It was the only thing of his mother’s that he had ever possessed. It was cheap plastic, marginally too tight round his wrist, but in his mind it was worth more than gold could ever be.

The Mark Twain gave that tiny little lurch he had learned to expect when the stepping stopped. In theory, he knew there was no reason why there should be a lurch, but every ship has its idiosyncrasies. He looked out of his window again.

Now, against expectation, the ship was hovering over an ocean that, as far as he could see, went on for ever. They had been crossing the vast landscapes of Eurasia for days. Joshua was a Madisonian who had grown up with the lakes near by. God, he thought, I could do with a swim. He stripped down to trunks.

Then, without consulting Lobsang, he ran to the gondola’s elevator and let it down until the open cage was only a little way above the deep blue sea, an ocean as calm as a lake.

The ambulant unit appeared in the hatch above him. ‘There you are. If you are thinking of a dip in this briny sea, I suggest you think twice. I’ve sent up my usual balloons and sounding-rockets, and I am pretty certain that if there is any dry land on this planet there is little of it. The sea level is very high: we hover over drowned continents, probably.’

‘An ocean world, then.’

‘I have no idea if there is anything so sophisticated as a fish swimming around in there. There appears to be nothing much more than floating seaweed, some of it extremely green. This is a fascinating world, and exploring it would be an excellent undertaking. However, while I cannot forbid you to go swimming, I urgently counsel you against doing so before I have checked for safety.’

The untroubled sea sparkled beguilingly. ‘Oh, come on. It can’t hurt, surely.’ He heard the sound of mechanical activity up above in the ship.

Lobsang said, ‘Can it not? But who knows how evolution might have proceeded on such a world? Joshua, until I check it out, for all we know something might just come up from the depths and you will depart this and all other worlds with a sound that might be accurately described as “clop”, with everything that sound suggests.’

Now Joshua heard a hatch opening on the ship, followed by a splash as something dropped into the water.

Lobsang said, ‘Such a singular person as you has no right to be the guinea pig when there are creatures more qualified — in this case, my underwater ambulant unit. Behold!’

Something like a mechanical dolphin barrelled out of the sea, stood in the air and dived back in again.

Joshua looked up at Lobsang. He continued to wonder whether the expressions on that engineered face were carefully crafted or whether they were reflexes in some way, true expressions of inner feelings. Either way, right now Lobsang was evidently awash with happiness as he watched his new creation. He did like his toys.

But the grin quickly faded. Lobsang said, ‘Various fish noted, water specimens obtained, plankton identified, depth to ocean bed uncertain … something coming up … it might just be an idea to get back on board — hold on tight!’

The elevator suddenly rose, clanging when it hit the stops. Joshua looked down and saw the wonderful aquatic unit spin into the air one last time, before huge jaws closed on it with dreadful finality.

Shaken, he turned to Lobsang. ‘Would you call that a clop?’

‘In fact, I think it might be, actually, when all is considered, a CLOP!!’

‘Consider me chastened. I’m sorry about your toy submarine. Was it expensive?’

‘Astonishingly so, and heavily patented, but, alas, not heavily armoured. However, we have spares. Come on. I’ll make the breakfast, for a change.’

When the meal was done, Lobsang waited for Joshua on the observation deck.

‘I have labelled our hungry visitor a shark for now. Extremely large sharks have certainly existed on Earth, and I got a good picture of it; the ichthyologists can decide. Please enjoy, with my compliments, the continued use of your legs.’

‘All right. I get it. Thank you…’

The Mark Twain was already stepping onwards. Joshua found himself looking down on forests again, the ocean world far behind: no more sea, no more brilliant sunshine. In a manner that was becoming a habit, Lobsang and Joshua sat together in silence. Though their relationship was reasonable now, hours could pass like this, with barely a word spoken between them.

And, as he turned his mind Westward once more, Joshua felt an odd pressure in the head. It was almost as if he were heading home to the Datum, not further outwards.

For the first time, for some reason, he found himself speculating about an end to this journey. ‘Lobsang, how much further are you intending to go? I am with you for the long haul, that’s the deal. But I do have responsibilities at home. Sister Agnes and the rest of them are not so spry as they were…’

‘Interesting reaction from the great loner,’ Lobsang said dryly. ‘It occurs to me that you, Joshua, are very much like the old-time trackers and hunters of the Old West. Like Daniel Boone, to whom I have compared you before, you shun the company of other people, but not all the time. And remember that even Daniel Boone had a Mrs Boone and a lot of little Boones.’

Joshua said, ‘Although some of the little Boones weren’t his Boones, but the Boones of his brother, if I’m to believe what I once read.’

‘I do understand you, Joshua. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.’

Joshua bristled. ‘I very much doubt that you understand anything about me, tin man.’

‘Well, how about this for a deal? If we don’t find anyone for you to talk to in the next two weeks, shall we say, I will turn the ship around and head back. We surely already have enough data to keep my friends at the universities as happy as a bucket of clams. You can get some R&R, and I will start work on plans for the Mark Trine, trusting that the shade of Mr Clemens will forgive me.’ He looked at Joshua’s puzzled expression, and relented. ‘In the dialect that gives us “twain”, meaning the number two, “trine” means three. Just my little joke.’

‘I thought you trashed your airship workshop. A small Tunguska event, you said.’

‘The Black Corporation has many skunk-work facilities, Joshua. Interesting, incidentally, that you’ve suggested turning back just as I’m learning that our singing friends from that frosty world some way back have had the same idea.’

‘The trolls? What do you mean?’

‘I’ve been observing scattered bands of them, travelling across the worlds. Trolls, and what appear to be other related species, of variant forms. It’s difficult to tell in our brief glimpses; there is much to be studied. But simple demographic tracking suggests that on the whole they are heading back along the