The Long War

Valienté actually smiled, which was a measure of Starling’s charisma. ‘Well – thank you. She had a calm death. There was even a representative of the Vatican at her funeral.’

‘A nod of respect to a worthy foe, I imagine, from what I understand of her career.’

‘Yeah. Even though they used to say she was the worst Catholic since Torquemada, or so she claimed. You know, Mr. Starling, I don’t exactly miss her. Somehow it’s as if she never died . . .’

25

HELEN WAS WAITING for him when he got back to Jansson’s house in Madison West 5. To their shared relief she was out of custody now, but under house arrest, here at Jansson’s.

She listened to his frustrated account of his meeting with Starling.

Then, to distract him, she showed Joshua correspondence they’d been sent on the Black Corporation’s latest iteration of its ‘colony in a box’ package. This was a technology they’d been prototyping at Hell-Knows-Where, in fact, evidently hoping to exploit Joshua himself as a poster-boy face for the programme. It had now developed into a neat integrated concept: a one-stop drop at a new colony site by one of the larger twains containing technological manna from heaven, such as satellite navigation supported by no fewer than three microsats injected into synchronous orbit by a compact launcher, enough equipment to seed a first-class hospital, a kit for a basic online university complete with a choice of virtual professors, and comms gear from old-fashioned landline telephony to shortwave radio packages and comsat aerials. More exotic items included a few bicycles for fast transport before the horses arrived, advice on mail-order marriage partners . . . The most sophisticated bit of kit was a matter printer, able to convert basic raw materials into complex parts. But such gadgets, Joshua knew, were prone to breakdown – and with the general stalling of technological development after Step Day, there hadn’t been much advance in areas like nanotech. What was likely to be more useful to the average colonist, he thought, was the miniaturized set of basic how-to manuals, encyclopaedias, even a pharmacopoeia.

A basic thrust of the package was that you were encouraged to link up, initially through the shortwave, with other colonies sharing the same stepwise world; no one colony alone might be able to support a decent college, for example, but share your resources around the scattered townships of a whole world and you might just manage it.

‘That was my idea in the first place,’ Joshua said. ‘The lateral link-ups. I like the idea of folk thinking of themselves from the outset as citizens of a whole planet, of a world growing sideways rather than just stepwise – a new world without borders from the beginning.’

‘You’re just a latter-day hippie.’

‘Identities change. The old concept of nationality just melts away . . . Maybe we’ll see an end to war through initiatives like this. A new start for all of us.’

‘And now you sound like Dad. Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,’ Helen said, only mildly sarcastically. ‘Shakespeare, I believe.’

‘I think you’ll find it was Wordsworth. Sister Agnes used to come out with that line a lot.’

His wife watched his face. ‘You still miss her, don’t you? Agnes. You’ve mentioned her a couple of times since we’ve been back here.’

Joshua shrugged. ‘Well, here we are back in Madison. And Senator Starling mentioning her threw me. As he intended, I suppose. Agnes was the best thing that could have happened to me when I was a kid. Same for all of us. They want me to go back sometime, you know. To the Home.’

‘Will you go?’

‘Maybe. Not to be the great Joshua Valienté, alumnus made good, now an icon of the Long Earth and a mayor . . . and blah blah. As long as they let me just talk to the kids, about stuff like, I don’t know, knife usage, field medicine for beginners. How to make the night sky your ally, with the Big Dipper a place to hang your hat, and Orion your friend to guide you home. That’s what I would have wanted to hear, back then . . . I do wish she could have seen this blissful dawn. Agnes, I mean. I ought to get some flowers for her grave.’

‘Was she the type who would want flowers?’

Joshua smiled. ‘She always said no to flowers. Then she’d accept them, and grumble about a wicked waste of money, and would keep them in her study until the petals dropped off.’

Helen kissed him on the cheek. ‘Go now.’

‘What?’

‘Just go see her. Never mind some invitation from the Home. Go for yourself. You’ll feel better for it. And don’t worry about us. We’re not going anywhere. I’m not, anyhow . . .’

He slept on that.

Then, the next day, he went.