The Long War

‘I don’t know, Mac. We do need new ways of working out here. I’ve learned that much in the past month. I mean, she’s right, once you are more than ten steps from the Datum, it’s like interstellar space. You can’t control the Long Earth like it was some occupied city in a war zone. Or even Datum New York. Freedom’s a mess, isn’t it? Listen, Mac – do some research for me. Find me some troll experts . . .’

22

THE GOLD DUST and its accompanying fleet crept through the Low Earths, the last couple of dozen stepwise worlds before the Datum. The skies were pretty crowded over these relatively heavily developed worlds, and as the ships were stepped through collisions were a real threat. In the last few worlds they actually had to follow a scout on the ground, who would step forward, check out the route, and then come back when the way was clear.

But even the clutter of West 3 or 2 or 1 was as nothing compared with what they found when they finally crossed over to the Datum. They looked down on the landscapes of West 1, and then with that last step it was as if somebody had exploded a daisycutter bomb, scything away the greenery for miles around and replacing it with concrete, tarmac and steel, staining the shining river a turbid grey and penning it in with reinforced banks and bridges, all under a grubby, colourless sky. Joshua thought you couldn’t have had a better demonstration of what humanity could do to a world, given a few centuries and a lot of oil to burn.

The Gold Dust

herself seemed diminished as she settled gingerly towards her docking apron. And the very first detail Joshua saw as he disembarked, on the wall of an old brick warehouse, was a giant portrait of President Cowley, standing there glaring with his arm held out and palm upraised, as if to say: Keep Out!

Sally, following Joshua, glared around dismissively. She was back with them, however briefly, from her latest jaunt. Long as he’d known her, Joshua still knew little of the various channels through which she kept in touch with what was going on out in the Long Earth, a vast domain which, in some sense, she seemed to feel responsible for policing. Now she said grimly, ‘Welcome home.’

The disembarked passengers were decanted into an immigration hall, a huge processing area full of snaking lines and checkpoints and screening booths, Homelands goons visored so you couldn’t see their faces, threatening instruction posters on the walls, enigmatic banners:

GENESIS 3:19

Like what he recalled of airports, Joshua saw now, this twain station had brightly signed links to other transport networks: planes, trains, buses, cabs. Transport had been one of the few big growth industries on the Datum since Step Day. To make a long-distance journey across a Low Earth, it was still generally easier to jump back to Datum Earth, catch a bus or plane, and step back once you’d reached your destination. But to access those services you had to get through immigration. Joshua checked over his little party as they waited in line. Dan, who had never had an experience like this in his life before, was confused. Helen looked stoically patient, as ever. Bill was still paralysed by his latest hangover, after his send-off by the crew of the Gold Dust. Sally just rolled her eyes at the endless stupidity of humanity.

And as they waited in their line a man approached them, small, intense, dressed in a black cassock, dog collar and crested hat. Dan flinched back as he drew nearer. The guy carried a Bible, and a small brass globe on a chain from which the rich scent of incense wafted. He was evidently working the waiting crowd.

Coming right up to them he pressed a leaflet into Sally’s hand. ‘In the name of the Lord, now you have returned home, stay here, on the Datum Earth – the one true Earth.’

Sally glared at him. ‘Why should we? Who are you?’

He said earnestly, ‘There is not a shred of evidence, either scientific or theological, that the discarnate soul can travel crossways through the worlds. Let your children die there, out in the wilderness, and their souls will never find their way to the bosom of the Lord.’ He crossed himself. ‘And as you know the Day of Judgement is approaching. Even now, on all those so-called stepwise worlds, at the heart of all those godless copies of the true America, fire and brimstone are spreading sulphurous fumes across Yellowstone—’

Sally just laughed, and told him in crisp Anglo-Saxon to go away, more forcibly than Joshua would have dared. The man shuffled off in search of easier targets.

‘Well, he was a bit mad,’ Bill said.

At last they reached the front of the line. Here their bags were opened and searched meticulously, and each of the party was put through a whole-body scanner. Joshua and Sally were first through. On the other side they were both issued with wristbands, brightly coloured and no doubt studded with tracker technology, that they would have to wear at all times until they left the Datum.