The Long War

If Sally heard it, she didn’t care. Once Helen had left them alone at the table once more, she started in again. “As you say, it’s not the only case.”

“What isn’t?”

“The Plumbline slaughter.”

“So much for the chit-chat, eh, Sally?”

“It’s not even the most notorious, right now. You want an itemized list?”

“No.”

“You see what’s happening here, Joshua. Humanity has been given a chance, with the Long Earth. A new start, an escape from the Datum, a whole world we already screwed up—”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Because she’d said it a million times before, in his hearing. “We’re going to bollocks up our second chance at Eden, even before the paint has dried.”

Helen deposited a large bowl of ice cream in the middle of the table with a definite thud.

Sally stared at it like a dog confronted by a brontosaurus bone. “You make ice cream? Here?”

Helen sat down. “Last year Joshua put in the hours on an ice house. It wasn’t a difficult project once we got round to it. The trolls like the ice cream. And we do get hot weather here; it’s wonderful to have something like this when you’re bartering with the neighbours.”

Joshua could hear the subtext, even if Sally couldn’t. This isn’t about ice cream. This is about our life. What we’re building here. Which you, Sally, have no part of.

“Go on, help yourself, we have plenty more. It’s getting late—of course you’re welcome to stay the night. Would you like to come see Dan’s school play?”

Joshua saw the look of sheer terror on Sally’s face. As an act of mercy he said, “Don’t worry. It won’t be as bad as you think. We have smart kids, and decent and helpful parents, good teachers—I should know, I’m one of them, and so is Helen.”

“Community schooling?”

“Yes. We concentrate on survival skills, metallurgy, medical botany, Long Earth animal biology, the whole spectrum of practical skills from flint-working to glass-making…”

Helen said, “But it’s not all pioneer stuff. We have a high scholastic standard. They even learn Greek.”

“Mr. Johansen,” said Joshua. “Peripatetic. Commutes twice a month from Valhalla.” He smiled and pointed to the ice cream. “Get it while it’s cold.”

Sally took one large scoop, demolished it. “Wow. Pioneers with ice cream.”

Joshua felt motivated to defend his home. “Well, it doesn’t have to be like the Donner Party, Sally—”

“You’re also pioneers with cellphones, aren’t you?”

It was true that life was a tad easier here than for pioneers on the Long Earth elsewhere. On this Earth, West 1,397,426, they even had sat-nav—and only Joshua, Helen and a few others knew why the Black Corporation had decided to use this particular world to try out their prototype technology, orbiting twenty-four nanosats from a small portable launcher. Call it a favour from an old friend…

Among those few others in the know was Sally, of course.

Joshua faced her. “Lay off, Sally. The sat-nav and the rest are here because of me. I know it. My friends know it.”

Helen grinned. “One of the engineers who called to fix up that stuff once told Joshua that the Black Corporation sees him as a ‘valuable long-term investment’. Worth cultivating, I suppose. Worth keeping sweet with little gifts.”

Sally snorted. “Meaning that’s how Lobsang sees you. How demeaning.”

Joshua ignored that, as he generally ignored any mention of that particular name. “And besides, I know that some people are drawn here because of me.”

“The famous Joshua Valienté.”

“Why not? It’s good not to have to advertise for good people. And if they don’t fit, they leave anyhow.”

Sally opened her mouth, ready for a few more jabs.

But Helen had evidently had enough. She stood up. “Sally, if you want to freshen up we’ve got a guest room down the passage there. Curtain up is in an hour. Dan—that’s our son, maybe you remember him—is already down at the town hall helping out, which is to say bossing the other kids about. Take some of the ice cream when we go over if you like. It’s only a short walk.”

Joshua forced a smile. “Everywhere’s a short walk here.”

Helen glanced out through the crude glass of the window. “And it looks like another perfect evening…”

3

It was indeed a perfect early spring evening.

Of course this world was no longer pristine, Joshua thought, as the three of them walked to the town hall for the school show. You could see the clearances nibbling into the forest by the river banks, and the smoke from the forges and workshops, and the tracks cutting through the forest straight and sharp. But still, what caught your eye was the essentials of the landscape, the bend of this stepwise copy of the Mississippi, and the bridges and the wooded expanses beyond the banks. Hell-Knows-Where looked the way its parent town back on the Datum—Hannibal, Missouri—had back in the nineteenth century, maybe, Mark Twain’s day. That was perfection, for his money.

But right now that perfect sky was marred by a twain hanging in the air.