The Long Earth (39 page)

Read The Long Earth Online

Authors: Terry Pratchett,Stephen Baxter

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Epic

‘No, Joshua. I suspect my joining with the being must be long term, if not one-way, irrevocable. Yet still I must do this.’

Joshua bristled. ‘I know you had all kinds of hidden motives for signing me up for this trip. Fine. But
I
signed up to achieve one objective: to bring you home safely. I was your ultimate fall-back, you said.’

‘I respect your integrity, Joshua. I release you from your contract. I will lodge an addendum in the ship’s files.’

‘That’s not good enough—’

‘It is done.’

‘Oh, don’t let’s have some kind of macho honour fest,’ Sally said cynically. ‘You have backups all over the place, Lobsang. So you’re not really at risk at all, are you?’

‘I don’t propose to tell you all my little secrets. But should I be incapacitated or lost you will find iterations of my memory in
various
stores, updated every millisecond. The ultimate “black box”, you might say, is in the belly of the ship, armoured in an alloy that I confidently believe makes adamantium look like putty and will, I am sure, remain totally unscathed even in the event of a meteor strike of mass-extinction proportions.’

Sally laughed. ‘What would be the point of surviving a collision that scythes all life from a planet? I mean, who would there be to plug you in?’

‘There is every likelihood that in the fullness of time sapient life might once again populate the planet, and evolve to the point where it could restore me. I can wait. I’ve plenty to read.’

It seemed to Joshua that Sally was at her loveliest, if you could use such a term about Sally, when she was blowing her top. And for the very first time, Joshua suspected Lobsang was teasing Sally deliberately. Another Turing test passed, he supposed.

‘So,’ he said, ‘supposing you’re successful, and you get her to stop eating worlds. What then, Lobsang?’

‘Then, together, we will continue the search for the truth behind the universe.’

‘That sounds so inhuman,’ said Sally.

‘On the contrary, Sally, it is extremely human.’

First Person Singular was looming now. Scoop-shaped objects like fleshy antennas sprouted along her length, and small crabs were hitching a ride – as were a number of seabirds, possibly after the crabs.

‘Well,’ said Lobsang. ‘The rest is up to you. Obviously I need you to get the airship back to Datum. Get in touch with Selena Jones at transEarth. She’ll know what to do about the data stores on board, to synch the copy of myself back on the Datum – you see, Joshua, you will be taking me home, after a fashion. Give Selena my regards. I always fancied she saw me as something of a father figure, you know. Even though she is legally my guardian. Well, I am not yet twenty-one years old.’

Sally said, ‘Wait – without you the
Mark Twain
has no sentience. How can it take us anywhere?’

‘Details, Sally! I’ll leave that as an exercise for you. And now, if you will excuse me, I have a mysterious floating collective organism to catch. Oh, one last thing – do please take care of Shi-mi …’

And with that he retreated through his blue door, for the last time.

49

WITH LOBSANG DISPATCHED
to his strange close encounter, the remaining crew of the
Mark Twain
watched the wake of the traveller until she disappeared from view, long before reaching the horizon. The honour guard of animals, birds and fish flew, dived and undulated away.

The show was over. The carnival had left town. The spell had been broken. And Joshua could feel something had gone from the world.

He stared at Sally, and felt the bewilderment he saw in her face. He said, ‘First Person Singular scared me. And there were times when Lobsang scared me, though for different reasons. The thought of the two of them together, and what they might become …’

She shrugged. ‘We’ve done our best to save the trolls.’

‘And humanity,’ he pointed out gently.

‘So what do we do now?’

‘Have lunch, I’d suggest,’ Joshua said, and he headed for the galley.

A few minutes later Sally was grasping a brimming mug of coffee as if it were a lifeline. ‘And did you notice? The traveller
steps
underwater. That’s a new one.’

Joshua nodded. He thought, that’s right, start by asking the little questions – sort out the small problems first, rather than get overwhelmed by the cosmic mysteries. Or even by the problem of how they were going to get home, although he was starting to have an
idea
about that. ‘You know, some of those creatures inside her hull, which must have come from very remote worlds, looked familiar. I mean, one of those floating things looked like a large kangaroo! The cameras have been running. We can check through the footage together. The naturalists will have a field day …’

There was a soft sound in the doorway. Joshua looked down to see Shi-mi. She was indeed a most elegant cat, robotic or not.

And she spoke.

‘Number of mice and mice-like rodents put into the vivarium for redeployment when we reach the ground: ninety-three. Numbers harmed: zero. It is said that with a stout heart a mouse can lift an elephant but not, I am glad to say, on this ship.’ The cat looked expectantly at both of them. Her voice was soft, feminine – human, but somehow suggestive of cat.

‘Oh, good grief.’

Joshua murmured, ‘Be nice, Sally. Shi-mi – thank you.’

The cat waited patiently for further response.

‘I didn’t know you could speak,’ Joshua ventured.

‘There was previously no need. My reports were made to Lobsang through a direct interface. And the rubbish we speak is like froth on the water; actions are drops of gold.’

Sally turned her glance slightly sideways, a warning sign in Joshua’s experience. ‘Where did that proverb come from?’

‘Tibet,’ said Shi-mi.

‘You’re not some avatar of Lobsang, are you? I did hope we’d got rid of him.’

The cat looked up from licking her paw. ‘No. Although I too am a gel-based personality. Adapted for light conversation, proverbs, rodent securement and incidental chit-chat with a thirty-one per cent bias towards cynicism. I am of course a prototype, but will shortly be one of a new line of pets available from the Black Corporation. Tell your friends. And now if you will excuse me, my work is as yet incomplete.’ The cat walked out.

When she was gone, Joshua said, ‘Well, you have to admit it’s better than a mousetrap.’

Sally was irritated. ‘Just when I think this
Titanic
of yours can’t get any more ridiculous … Are we still over the ocean?’

Joshua glanced out of the nearest port. ‘Yes.’

‘We should turn around. Head back to shore.’

‘We’ve already turned,’ said Joshua. ‘I set the controls after we let down Lobsang. We started back thirty minutes ago.’

‘Are you sure that swimming robot thing has the power to get us back over land?’ asked Sally, obviously nervous.

‘Sally, the
Mark Twain
was designed by Lobsang. The marine unit has enough power to circumnavigate the Earth. He backs up his backups. You know that. Is there something wrong?’

‘Since you ask, I’m not any great fan of water. Especially water you can’t see to the bottom of. As a rule, let’s keep some trees under the keel, OK?’

‘You were hanging out on the coast when I first met you.’

‘That was the seashore. Shallow water! And this is the Long Earth. You never know what’s going to surface underneath you.’

‘I imagine you didn’t stay long on the one water world Lobsang and I passed through. There was a beast in that ocean that—’

‘When I got to that world I stepped from a hillside, fell six feet into seawater, swam to a place I knew I could get back from, and stepped out, all just before a set of jaws closed around me. I never saw what they were attached to. The way I see it, my ancestors put a lot of effort into getting out of the goddamn ocean and I don’t think I should throw all of that hard work back in their faces.’

He grinned as he worked on the food.

‘Look, Joshua – I’m all for heading back to Happy Landings. What do you say? Suddenly I feel in the mood for other people … Oh. But we have to take the
Mark Twain
, don’t we? With all that’s left of Lobsang. Not to mention the cat. We can find a way to move the
Mark Twain
laterally, if we have to drag it by hand. But how’s it going to step without Lobsang?’

‘I’ve got an idea about that,’ Joshua said. ‘It will keep. More coffee?’

They treated the rest of that day as though it was a Sunday, that is to say what you should expect of a Sunday. You need time for big and complicated new concepts to shake themselves down in your brain slowly, without damaging what is already there. In the end that had even applied to Lobsang, Joshua realized.

Then, the next afternoon, Joshua let Sally guide them to what she sensed as a soft place, a short cut that would take them back to Happy Landings, only a little way in from the shore. They descended to the ground. The
Mark Twain
hovered over the beach where the marine unit had delivered it. The ship was connected to Joshua and Sally by long ropes held in their hands.

And there was a shimmer on the water’s edge that even Joshua could see: the soft place Sally had found.

‘I feel like a kid with a party balloon,’ said Sally, holding her rope.

‘I’m certain this will work,’ said Joshua.

‘What will?’

‘Look – when you step you can take over whatever you can carry. Yes? In a way, when he was aboard, Lobsang
was
the airship, so he could step over. Here we are holding the
Mark Twain
, which, though it has a lot of mass, technically doesn’t weigh anything at all. Right? So, if we step right now, we’ll be carrying it, won’t we?’

She stared at him. ‘And
this
is your theory?’

‘It’s the best I can do.’

‘If the universe doesn’t get your joke, we might get our arms pulled off.’

‘Only one way to find out. Are you ready?’

Sally hesitated. ‘Would you mind if we step hand in hand? We could get in a mess if we got separated during this stunt.’

‘True enough.’ He took her hand. ‘OK, Sally. Do your stuff.’

She seemed to defocus, as if she was no longer aware of him. She
sniffed
the air and eyed the light, and made moves oddly like tai chi, graceful, testing, questing – or maybe as if she were dowsing for water.

And they stepped. The stepping itself was sharper than usual, and there was a brief sensation of plummeting as if down a water slide, and it left Joshua
colder
, as if the process somehow absorbed energy. They emerged on another beach, another world – wintry, bleak. The soft places didn’t get you all the way at once, then. And
they weren’t in the same place
, geographically; Joshua could see that immediately. Stranger and stranger. Again Sally turned this way and that, questing.

It took four steps in all. But at last there was Happy Landings, with the
Mark Twain
overhead.

People were pleased to see them back, if surprised. Everyone was friendly. Genuinely friendly. Because this was Happy Landings, wasn’t it? Of course they were friendly. The tracks were still clean, spotlessly swept. The drying salmon still hung from rows of neat racks. Men, women, children and trolls mixed happily.

And Joshua felt oddly uncomfortable, once more. A slight feeling you get when everything is so
right
that it might have gone all the way around the universe and come back metamorphosed into
wrong
. He’d forgotten, in fact, how persistent this feeling was from his last visit. And that was without mentioning the ubiquitous stink of troll.

As a matter of course, the pair of them were offered lodgings in one of the cottages at the heart of the township. But after a shared glance they decided to bunk down on the
Mark Twain
. Inevitably a few troll pups followed them up the cables. Joshua made supper up there, with delicious fresh food; as before people had been amazingly generous with gifts of food and drink.

Afterwards, poisoning herself with instant coffee once again – all that was available now on the injured
Mark Twain
– and with trolls lounging around the observation deck, Sally said, ‘Come on,
out
with it, Joshua. I watch people too. I see the look on your face. What’s on your mind?’

‘The same as on yours, I suspect. That there’s something wrong here.’

‘No,’ Sally said. ‘Not wrong. There’s something
off
, for sure … I’ve been here many times, but I’m more aware of it with you sulking around the place. Of course what we perceive as
wrong
might be an expression of the significance of the place. But—’

‘Go on. There’s something you want to tell me, right?’

‘Have you seen any blind people here, Joshua?’

‘Blind?’

‘There are people here with spectacles, old folk with reading glasses. But nobody
blind
. Once I looked at the rolls in City Hall. You see records of people missing a toe or a finger, and you find out that it was the result of a bit of carelessness with a wood-chopping axe. But nobody with any major disability seems to be led to Happy Landings in the first place.’

He thought that over. ‘They aren’t perfect here. I’ve seen them get drunk in the bars, for example.’

‘Oh yes, they know how to party, certainly. But the interesting thing is that every single one of them knows when to stop partying, and, believe you me, that talent is somewhat rare. And there’s nothing like a police force here, have you noticed? According to the City Hall records, there has never been a sexually motivated attack on a woman, man or child.
Never
. Never a dispute over land that hasn’t been calmly resolved by negotiation. Have you watched the kids? All the adults act as if all the kids are their own, and all the kids act as if all the adults are their parents. The whole place is so decent, level-headed and
likeable
it can make you scream, and then curse yourself for screaming.’ Sally stroked a troll pup, whose purring would have put any cat to shame: pure liquid contentment.

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