The Long War

“Oh, machines have been able to pass the Turing test for years.”

“No, the Turin test. We both pray for an hour, and see if God can tell the difference.”

And she had to laugh.

“That was it? He made you laugh?”

“Well, it was the first time he actually seemed authentically human. And he did keep on. It was like being licked to death by puppies. He wore me down in the end.”

Joshua nodded. “You know, if this works out even ten per cent, he’s going to be lucky to have you.”

She snorted. “You’d better ask him that. I’m learning to crack the whip… Joshua, I know you’ve had your differences with him.”

“You can say that again. When I called him in to help you it was about the only time I’ve spoken to him since the Madison nuke.”

“I think he misses you, you know. He spans the world, but he has few friends. If any.”

“Which is why he has to manufacture them, right?”

“That’s rather harsh, Joshua. On both of us.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. Look, Agnes, as far as I’m concerned, however you got here, it’s just good to have you back.”

Now she looked oddly concerned. She took both his hands in hers, as she used to when he was small and there was something difficult she needed to tell him. “But you and I know the real question, Joshua.”

“What question?”

“I look like Agnes. I think like her. I can carry on her work. I feel like I’m her. But can I be her? I’m a nun, Joshua. Or Agnes was. And enough of a nun to know that there’s no place in Catholic theology for Tibetan-style reincarnation.”

“Then what?”

She looked away, which was not characteristic of her. “My death, Joshua…”

“Yes?”

“I…. experienced it. What we call the Personal Judgement, or something like it. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. I encountered God. Or so it feels. So I believe.” She raised her hands again and turned them over, inspecting them. “And now here I am in this miraculous new form. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.” She twinkled a smile at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you for chapter and verse. Maybe I’m some sort of electronic ghost—not Agnes at all, or at best a blasphemous mockery of her. Or maybe, instead, I’m here to fulfil the will of God, in a new way—in a world transformed by technology, to fulfil that will in a way that was never possible before. I feel I’m ready to accept the latter interpretation for now.”

He stirred the last of his coffee. “What does Lobsang want, do you think? What’s he trying to become? The guardian of the whole human race, maybe?”

She thought about that. “I rather believe that he might be more like a gardener. Which sounds nice and bucolic and harmless, right up to the time you remember that a gardener must sometimes prune…”

He stood. “I have to go back. My family have had a lot of problems since we got back here.”

“I heard.”

“About the nature of your new existence—well, I did spend a lot of time with Lobsang. I’m no theologian. My advice is, just get on with it. Do the good that’s in front of you. That’s what you always said.”

“That’s true. Actually at some point I’m hoping for a bit of theological guidance from those fellas in fancy dress from the Vatican.”

“I don’t care about the Vatican. As far as I’m concerned you’re my Agnes.”

“Thank you, Joshua.” She stood and hugged him. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Never.”

28

Sally returned to Monica Jansson’s home, arriving without any warning, without any explanation of where she’d been.

Jansson had been alone in the house. She had been waiting for Joshua to return from his visit to the Home, Helen was off talking to cops and lawyers about bail conditions, and Dan was happily playing softball with Bill Chambers, who was monumentally hung over, as ever.

They sat over coffees. Two oddballs thrown accidentally together, Jansson thought. Sally seemed restless, as usual. Her pack was waiting at the door, and she wore the multi-pocketed sleeveless jacket that was the basis of her field gear. They tentatively talked, about life, and what they had in common: the Long Earth, and Joshua.

In an odd way, Joshua had always been at the centre of MPD Lieutenant Monica Jansson’s experience of the Long Earth, as it had opened up on her watch, and ultimately defined her career path, indeed her whole life. Now she told Sally anecdotes about the old days.

Like about the repeated attempts she had made to recruit Joshua.

There was one time, seven months after Step Day, when Jansson had arranged to talk to Joshua at the Home, then still located in Datum Madison. The talk had been chaperoned, and that was fair enough, Jansson had thought, sitting on a sofa with a Sister or two, as the old song went. After all, Joshua was still just fourteen years old.

And his suspicion of her had been so solid it was like an extra person, crowding on the sofa with Jansson and the Sisters.

He’d said, “Do you want to study me?”

“What?”