The Long Earth

Only two days after Step Day itself, terrorists had hit both the Pentagon and the British Houses of Parliament. It could have been worse. The boy who stepped into the Pentagon hadn’t got his distances and angles right, and his makeshift bomb was triggered in a corridor, the only fatality being its creator. The British terrorist had clearly paid more attention in geometry class, and appeared slap (and instantly) bang in the chamber of the House of Commons — but had failed to finish his homework, so that the last thing he ever saw was five Members of Parliament debating a rather insignificant bill about herring fishing. Had he thought to make his appearance in the Commons bar, he would have reaped a greater harvest of souls.

Nevertheless, both of the explosions echoed around the world, and authority panicked. There was concern among private individuals too; it didn’t take a genius to figure out that, suddenly, anybody could step into your house while you slept. And where there is panic, profit isn’t far behind. Instantly anti-stepper devices were being developed in workshops and private homes everywhere, some of them clever, many of the worst stupid — and quite a few deadly, more often than not to their owner rather than any would-be thief. Attempts to criss-cross the empty spaces of an unoccupied room with anti-stepping hazards ended up trapping children’s fingers and maiming pets. The most effective deterrent, as people soon worked out, was simply to cram a room with furniture, Victorian-style, to leave no room for steppers.

In truth, the threat of wholesale burglaries-by-stepping was more about urban fears than reality. Oh, a lot of people jumped worlds to avoid debts, obligations or revenge, and there were plenty of agents who would follow them — and there would always be a few who stole and raped and killed their way across the worlds, until somebody shot them. But in general crime was low, per capita, out in the Long Earth, when the social pressures that sparked so much crime and disorder on the Datum were largely absent.

Of course governments weren’t too happy with their tax-payers stepping out of reach. But only Iran, Burma and the United Kingdom had ever actually tried to ban stepping. Initially most governments in the free world adopted some equivalent of the US aegis plan, demanding sovereignty of their country’s footprint down all the endless worlds. The French, for example, declared that all the French footprints were available for colonization by anybody who wanted to be French, and was prepared to accept a carefully put together document which outlined what being French meant. It was a brave idea, slightly let down by the fact that despite a nationwide debate it appeared that no two Frenchmen could agree exactly on what being French did mean. Although another school of thought held that arguing about what made you French was part of what made you French. In practice, though, whatever regime was imposed, it didn’t take you long to step out to a place where the government had no say, simply because the government wasn’t there, benevolent or not.

And the people? They just stepped, here, there and everywhere, heading not so much to where they wanted to be, as, quite often, from where they emphatically didn’t want to be any more. Inevitably many went out unprepared and without forethought, and many suffered as a consequence. But gradually people absorbed the lessons learned by folk like the Amish long ago, that what you needed was other people, and preparation.

Fifteen years on, there were successful communities thriving far out across the empty landscapes of the Long Earth. The emigration push was thought to be starting to decline, but it was estimated that fully a fifth of Earth’s population had walked away to find a new world — a demographic dislocation comparable to a world war, it was said, or a massive pandemic.

But it was still early days, in Jansson’s opinion. In a way, mankind was only slowly beginning to adjust to the idea of infinite plenty. For without scarcity, of land or resources, entirely new ways of living became available. On television the other night Jansson had watched a theoretical anthropologist work her way through a thought experiment. ‘Consider this. If the Long Earth really is effectively endless, as it is beginning to look, then all mankind could afford to live for ever in hunter-gatherer societies, fishing, digging clams, and simply moving right along whenever you run out of clams, or if you just feel like it. Without agriculture Earth could support perhaps a million people in such a way. There are ten billion of us, we need ten thousand Earths — but, suddenly, we have them, and more. We have no need of agriculture, to sustain our mighty numbers. Do we have need of cities, then? Of literacy and numeracy, even?’

But as this vast perturbation of the destiny of mankind continued, it was becoming increasingly clear that there were an awful lot of folks for whom the ambiguous treasures of the Long Earth were for ever out of reach, and they were increasingly unhappy about it.

And that, fifteen years after Step Day, as she watched Brian Cowley perform with gathering dismay, was what increasingly concerned Monica Jansson.

36

THE AIRSHIP STOPPED again, at a barren world, the air just about breathable when Joshua tried it, but stinking of ash under an overcast sky into which the usual sounding-rockets ascended.

Lobsang said, ‘An aftermath world. Possibly an asteroid strike, but my best guess would be a Yellowstone, maybe a century ago. There may be life in the southern hemisphere, but nature’s cleanup job will take a long time.’

‘It’s a wasteland.’

‘Of course it is. Earth kills her children over and over again. But the rules are different now. It is a certainty that the volcano under Yellowstone National Park on Datum Earth will become aggressively active in the near future. And what will happen? People will step away. For the first time in human history, such a calamity will be a nuisance rather than a tragedy. Until the sun itself dies there will always be other worlds, and mankind will persist, somewhere in the Long Earth, immune to extinction.’

‘I wonder if that’s what the Long Earth is for.’

‘I’m not yet qualified to comment.’

‘Why have we stopped, Lobsang?’

‘Because I am picking up a signal on an AM frequency. Rather bad reception. The transmitter is very close. Would you like to see who’s calling?’ Lobsang’s face was a perfect simulation of a grin.

The airship’s restaurant boasted a pretty good dining table, Joshua had to admit, and certainly better than the makeshift shelf on the observation deck he used when there wasn’t any company. The staple of the meal in front of him was a white meat, the flesh rather fine.

And he looked up, into the eyes of Sally.

She had provided the meat. ‘It’s a kind of wild turkey you see around in the local worlds,’ she said now. ‘Good eating if you can be bothered, but they are a prey species and can very nearly outrun a wolf. Sometimes I catch a parcel of them and sell them to the pioneers…’

For a near-recluse, she did talk a lot, Joshua reflected. But he understood why. Joshua meanwhile just ate, enjoying himself. Maybe he was getting used to the company of women. This woman anyhow.

Lobsang entered, holding a tray. ‘Orange sorbet. Oranges aren’t native to the New World, but I have brought seeds for planting at suitable locations. Enjoy.’ He served, turned away and disappeared through the blue door.

Sally had been reasonably polite upon learning the identity and nature of Lobsang. Well, since she’d stopped laughing. Now she lowered her voice. ‘What’s with the Jeeves bit?’

‘I think he wants to make you welcome. I knew you’d send a signal, you know.’

‘How?’

‘Because I would have done in your place. Come on, Sally. You came back to us, and we figure that’s because there’s something you want from us. So let’s trade. You know what we need to learn from you. How did you get out so far?’

She eyed him. ‘I’ll give you a clue. I’m not alone. There are more of us out here than you’d think. Every so often, a stepping box stutters, you might say. I met a man twenty thousand clicks from the Datum who was certain that he was one jump away from Pasadena, and puzzled by the fact that he couldn’t get home. I led him down to a halfway house and left him there.’