The Long War

Some people had walked out, to start up again on their own. Others had gone back to the Hundred K station to wait for a Company to form up for a trek back to Datum Earth.

Worst of all for Helen, Dad wasn’t speaking to Mom, despite her illness.

It was all the government’s fault. They all got The Letter, every household, delivered by shamefaced mailman Bill Lovell. Bill himself had already been fired by the US Mail, but he said he was going to keep making his rounds even so until his boots wore out, and the people promised to feed him, in return.

The Letter was from the federal government. Everybody with a permanent residence beyond Earth 20, West or East, with assets back on Datum Earth, was having those assets frozen, and ultimately impounded.

With Mom ill in bed, Dad had to explain all this to Helen—words like “assets” and “impounded”. Basically it meant that all the money Dad and Mom had earned before upping sticks for their trek into the Long Earth, and had left in bank accounts and other funds back on Earth to pay for stuff like Mom’s cancer medicines and for stay-at-home brother Rod’s care and for a college education for Helen and sister Katie if they ever wanted it, had been stolen by the government. Stolen. That was Dad’s word. It didn’t seem too harsh to Helen.

Dad said the economy on Earth had taken a knock from stepping. That was obvious even before the Greens had left. All those people who disappeared into the Long Earth had been a big drain from the labour pool, and only a trickle of goods came back the other way; those left behind were furious at having to subsidize work-shy hoboes, as they saw the departed. Meanwhile some people couldn’t step at all, and had started to resent those who could. People like Rod, of course, Helen’s own home-alone non-stepper brother. She often wondered what he was feeling.

Dad said, “I’m guessing the government is appeasing the anti-stepper lobby by perpetrating this theft. I blame that loudmouth Cowley.”

“So what are we going to do about it?”

“We’ll hold a meeting in city hall, that’s what.”

Well, they didn’t have a city hall, at that time. They did have a communal field cleared of forest and rocks that they called city hall, so that was where they gathered. Just as well it wasn’t raining, Helen thought.

Reese Henry, the former used-car salesman who was the nearest they had to a mayor, chaired the meeting, in his usual bullying way. He held up The Letter. “What are we going to do about this?”

They weren’t going to put up with it, that was what. There was a lot of talk about forming up a mass hike and marching on Datum Washington. But who was going to feed the chickens?

They resolved to make inventories of all the stuff they still imported from Datum Earth. Medicines, for one. Books, paper, pens, electronic gadgets, even luxuries like perfumes. By sharing and swapping and mending, maybe they could manage with what they had until things settled down. The idea was floated of getting together with the neighbours. There was a bunch of nearby settlements spread over a few dozen worlds that some were starting to call “New Scarsdale County’. They could help each other out in case of scarcities and emergencies.

Some spoke of going back. A mother with a diabetic kid. Folk who found that advancing age wasn’t mixing well with the hard work of farming. A few who just seemed to feel scared without the backing of the government, however remote it was. But others, like Helen’s dad, urged nobody to leave. They all relied on each other. They had put together a spectrum of complementary skills that enabled them to survive if they worked together. They couldn’t let the community they’d built be pulled apart. And so on.

Reese Henry let it all ramble on, and run down. They broke up without resolution.

The next morning, however, the sun rose on schedule, the chickens needed feeding and the water needed toting from the well, and somehow life went on.

Three months later.

Helen’s sister Katie had quietly brought forward her wedding. She and Harry Bergreen had been planning to wait until the following year, when they were hoping for a proper house-raising. Everybody knew that they were getting married now while Mom was still around to see it.

Helen was enough of a girly girl that she had grown up dreaming of fairytale-princess weddings. Well, this day turned out to be a pioneers’ wedding. Kind of different, but still fun.

The guests had started arriving early, but Katie and Harry and their families were ready to meet them. Bride and groom were dressed in informal clothes, no white gowns or morning suits here, but Katie was wearing a small, pretty veil made by sister Helen from the lining of an old hiking jumpsuit.