Generally the wheelhouse was Lobsang’s private domain. But today it was open house, and the three of them watched the barely visible wake of First Person Singular. Most of the traveller was underwater now. ‘Only heaven knows what her propulsion system is,’ Lobsang said. ‘And while it’s about it, heaven might like to hazard a guess as to why the seas around her are suddenly teeming with fish.’
It was true, Joshua saw. The water was bright with fins; there were even dolphins somersaulting through the air. First Person Singular was travelling with an honour guard. Joshua was used to seeing rivers vibrantly alive across the worlds; in the absence of humanity the seas everywhere seemed to be as crowded as the old Grand Banks off Newfoundland, where, it was said, a man could once have walked on the water, so heavy was it with cod. People who’d never left Datum Earth didn’t know what they were missing. But probably even the Grand Banks at their zenith couldn’t have been as alive with fish as the waters behind the traveller.
‘Evidently,’ Sally said, ‘she has a way of attracting lesser creatures. Maybe it’s how she lures them close enough to absorb them.’
Lobsang was in an expansive mood. ‘Magnificent, isn’t it? Do you see those dolphins? Better than a Busby Berkeley routine!’
Sally asked, ‘Who on earth is Busby Berkeley?’
Even Joshua knew the answer to that one.
Sally said, ‘If you two are going to start talking old movies again—’
Lobsang cleared his throat. ‘Did anyone experience anything unusual last night?’
Joshua and Sally shared a glance.
Sally said, ‘You raised it, Lobsang. What are you talking about?’
‘In my case there was an attempt at what I experienced as hacking. Which is quite a challenge. For the guys in the Black Corporation, trying to hack me was a sport, and most certainly kept me on my toes. Nevertheless, something made a spirited attempt last night. I believe, however, that this was done in a beneficent way. Nothing has been taken, nothing was changed, but I believe that some memory stores have been accessed, and copied.’
Sally asked, ‘Such as?’
‘Information about the trolls. About stepping. It backs up the story you were given, Joshua. But this is a very partial hypothesis. For me it is like trying to recover a memory.’
Sally said, ‘Was it a vision, or a waking dream?’ They stared at her, and she blushed, and snapped defiantly, ‘What? So I know Keats? Lots of people know Keats, my grandfather often recited Keats. Although he always used to spoil it by saying afterwards that he loved Keats but had never actually seen a keat.’
‘I know Keats,’ Joshua said reassuringly. ‘And so does Sister Georgina. You’ll have to meet her. I had a waking dream too. I sensed loneliness again.’
Sally admitted, ‘Me too. But in my case it was something wonderful. A kind of welcome.’
Lobsang asked, ‘Welcoming enough to make you want to jump into the water and lose your identity? We’re closing, by the way. I think she is waiting for us to catch her up, and I very much want to catch up with her.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Sally, ‘I have no intention of boarding that floating thing and becoming another souvenir in some internal zoo.’
‘Happily, Sally, I intend to be the only one setting foot on First Person Singular. Or at least this ambulant unit will be. I want to communicate with her, much more fully, before she continues her stepping journey, and persuade her to stop.’
Joshua thought that over. ‘And if she won’t turn back… Can she be stopped?’
Lobsang snapped, ‘What are you suggesting, Joshua? How would you fight her? Short of destroying each world she can inhabit – working your way back up the line with nuclear bombers—’ He sounded contemptuous. ‘You think so small, both of you. All you can perceive is threat. Maybe it’s something to do with your own biological fragility. Listen to me. She wants to learn from us. But there’s so much we can learn from her. What does she know, she who can surely perceive on scales of space and time utterly beyond the human?’ His artificial voice was flat, yet oddly full of wonder. ‘Have you heard of the participatory universe, Joshua?’
‘Participatory bullshit.’
‘Listen. Consciousness shapes reality. That’s the central message of quantum physics. We participated in the creation of the Datum, our solitary strand, our Joker world. We’ve met other minds now, the elves and the trolls, and First Person Singular. Somehow, it seems, they participated in the weaving of the Long Earth, a subtle and marvellous ensemble, a multiverse created by a community of minds, which we only now are beginning to join. This is the lesson you must take back to the Datum, Joshua. Never mind variations of geology and geography and collections of exotic animals. This is fundamental to our understanding of reality – fundamental to what we are. And if I can communicate with First Person Singular, who surely has an apprehension of the universe beyond anything we are capable of… Well, this is what I intend to discuss with our fat friend. That, and to make her aware of the threat she poses, all unconsciously.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Joshua said, thinking it through. ‘You’re going down there. You’re actually going into that thing.’
‘Since the creatures embedded in the structure appear to be entirely healthy and mobile, I don’t see this as a risk. Bearing in mind that I, and I alone, of the three of us, am dispensable, at least in the form of my ambulant unit. But I will be fully downloaded. I, Lobsang, will be fully committed to the joining.’
‘You don’t intend to come back, do you?’
‘No, Joshua. I suspect my joining with the being must be long term, if not one-way, irrevocable. Yet still I must do this.’
Joshua bristled. ‘I know you had all kinds of hidden motives for signing me up for this trip. Fine. But I signed up to achieve one objective: to bring you home safely. I was your ultimate fall-back, you said.’
‘I respect your integrity, Joshua. I release you from your contract. I will lodge an addendum in the ship’s files.’
‘That’s not good enough—’
‘It is done.’
‘Oh, don’t let’s have some kind of macho honour fest,’ Sally said cynically. ‘You have backups all over the place, Lobsang. So you’re not really at risk at all, are you?’
‘I don’t propose to tell you all my little secrets. But should I be incapacitated or lost you will find iterations of my memory in various stores, updated every millisecond. The ultimate “black box”, you might say, is in the belly of the ship, armoured in an alloy that I confidently believe makes adamantium look like putty and will, I am sure, remain totally unscathed even in the event of a meteor strike of mass-extinction proportions.’
Sally laughed. ‘What would be the point of surviving a collision that scythes all life from a planet? I mean, who would there be to plug you in?’
‘There is every likelihood that in the fullness of time sapient life might once again populate the planet, and evolve to the point where it could restore me. I can wait. I’ve plenty to read.’
It seemed to Joshua that Sally was at her loveliest, if you could use such a term about Sally, when she was blowing her top. And for the very first time, Joshua suspected Lobsang was teasing Sally deliberately. Another Turing test passed, he supposed.
‘So,’ he said, ‘supposing you’re successful, and you get her to stop eating worlds. What then, Lobsang?’
‘Then, together, we will continue the search for the truth behind the universe.’
‘That sounds so inhuman,’ said Sally.
‘On the contrary, Sally, it is extremely human.’
First Person Singular was looming now. Scoop-shaped objects like fleshy antennas sprouted along her length, and small crabs were hitching a ride – as were a number of seabirds, possibly after the crabs.
‘Well,’ said Lobsang. ‘The rest is up to you. Obviously I need you to get the airship back to Datum. Get in touch with Selena Jones at transEarth. She’ll know what to do about the data stores on board, to synch
the copy of myself back on the Datum – you see, Joshua, you will be taking me home, after a fashion. Give Selena my regards. I always fancied she saw me as something of a father figure, you know. Even though she is legally my guardian. Well, I am not yet twenty-one years old.’
Sally said, ‘Wait – without you the Mark Twain has no sentience. How can it take us anywhere?’
‘Details, Sally! I’ll leave that as an exercise for you. And now, if you will excuse me, I have a mysterious floating collective organism to catch. Oh, one last thing – do please take care of Shi-mi…’
And with that he retreated through his blue door, for the last time.
49
WITH LOBSANG DISPATCHED to his strange close encounter, the remaining crew of the Mark Twain watched the wake of the traveller until she disappeared from view, long before reaching the horizon. The honour guard of animals, birds and fish flew, dived and undulated away.
The show was over. The carnival had left town. The spell had been broken. And Joshua could feel something had gone from the world.
He stared at Sally, and felt the bewilderment he saw in her face. He said, ‘First Person Singular scared me. And there were times when Lobsang scared me, though for different reasons. The thought of the two of them together, and what they might become…’
She shrugged. ‘We’ve done our best to save the trolls.’
‘And humanity,’ he pointed out gently.
‘So what do we do now?’
‘Have lunch, I’d suggest,’ Joshua said, and he headed for the galley.
A few minutes later Sally was grasping a brimming mug of coffee as if it were a lifeline. ‘And did you notice? The traveller steps underwater. That’s a new one.’
Joshua nodded. He thought, that’s right, start by asking the little questions – sort out the small problems first, rather than get overwhelmed by the cosmic mysteries. Or even by the problem of how they were going to get home, although he was starting to have an idea about that. ‘You know, some of those creatures inside her hull, which must have come from very remote worlds, looked familiar. I mean, one of those floating things looked like a large kangaroo! The cameras have been running. We can check through the footage together. The naturalists will have a field day…’
There was a soft sound in the doorway. Joshua looked down to see Shi-mi. She was indeed a most elegant cat, robotic or not.
And she spoke.
‘Number of mice and mice-like rodents put into the vivarium for redeployment when we reach the ground: ninety-three. Numbers harmed: zero. It is said that with a stout heart a mouse can lift an elephant but not, I am glad to say, on this ship.’ The cat looked expectantly at both of them. Her voice was soft, feminine – human, but somehow suggestive of cat.
‘Oh, good grief.’
Joshua murmured, ‘Be nice, Sally. Shi-mi – thank you.’
The cat waited patiently for further response.
‘I didn’t know you could speak,’ Joshua ventured.
‘There was previously no need. My reports were made to Lobsang through a direct interface. And the rubbish we speak is like froth on the water; actions are drops of gold.’
Sally turned her glance slightly sideways, a warning sign in Joshua’s experience. ‘Where did that proverb come from?’
‘Tibet,’ said Shi-mi.
‘You’re not some avatar of Lobsang, are you? I did hope we’d got rid of him.’
The cat looked up from licking her paw. ‘No. Although I too am a gel-based personality. Adapted for light conversation, proverbs, rodent securement and incidental chit-chat with a thirty-one per cent bias towards cynicism. I am of course a prototype, but will shortly be one of a new line of pets available from the Black Corporation. Tell your friends. And now if you will excuse me, my work is as yet incomplete.’ The cat walked out.
When she was gone, Joshua said, ‘Well, you have to admit it’s better than a mousetrap.’
Sally was irritated. ‘Just when I think this Titanic of yours can’t get any more ridiculous… Are we still over the ocean?’
Joshua glanced out of the nearest port. ‘Yes.’
‘We should turn around. Head back to shore.’
‘We’ve already turned,’ said Joshua. ‘I set the controls after we let down Lobsang. We started back thirty minutes ago.’
‘Are you sure that swimming robot thing has the power to get us back over land?’ asked Sally, obviously nervous.
‘Sally, the Mark Twain was designed by Lobsang. The marine unit has enough power to circumnavigate the Earth. He backs up his backups. You know that. Is there something wrong?’
‘Since you ask, I’m not any great fan of water. Especially water you can’t see to the bottom of. As a rule, let’s keep some trees under the keel, OK?’
‘You were hanging out on the coast when I first met you.’
‘That was the seashore. Shallow water! And this is the Long Earth. You never know what’s going to surface underneath you.’
‘I imagine you didn’t stay long on the one water world Lobsang and I passed through. There was a beast in that ocean that—’
‘When I got to that world I stepped from a hillside, fell six feet into seawater, swam to a place I knew I could get back from, and stepped out, all just before a set of jaws closed around me. I never saw what they were attached to. The way I see it, my ancestors put a lot of effort into getting out of the goddamn ocean and I don’t think I should throw all of that hard work back in their faces.’
He grinned as he worked on the food.
‘Look, Joshua – I’m all for heading back to Happy Landings. What do you say? Suddenly I feel in the mood for other people… Oh. But we have to take the Mark Twain, don’t we? With all that’s left of Lobsang. Not to mention the cat. We can find a way to move the Mark Twain laterally, if we have to drag it by hand. But how’s it going to step without Lobsang?’
‘I’ve got an idea about that,’ Joshua said. ‘It will keep. More coffee?’
They treated the rest of that day as though it was a Sunday, that is to say what you should expect of a Sunday. You need time for big and complicated new concepts to shake themselves down in your brain slowly, without damaging what is already there. In the end that had even applied to Lobsang, Joshua realized.
Then, the next afternoon, Joshua let Sally guide them to what she sensed as a soft place, a short cut that would take them back to Happy Landings, only a little way in from the shore. They descended to the ground. The Mark Twain hovered over the beach where the marine unit had delivered it. The ship was connected to Joshua and Sally by long ropes held in their hands.
And there was a shimmer on the water’s edge that even Joshua could see: the soft place Sally had found.
‘I feel like a kid with a party balloon,’ said Sally, holding her rope.
‘I’m certain this will work,’ said Joshua.
‘What will?’
‘Look – when you step you can take over whatever you can carry. Yes? In a way, when he was aboard, Lobsang was the airship, so he could step over. Here we are holding the Mark Twain, which, though it has a lot of mass, technically doesn’t weigh anything at all. Right? So, if we step right now, we’ll be carrying it, won’t we?’
She stared at him. ‘And this is your theory?’
‘It’s the best I can do.’
‘If the universe doesn’t get your joke, we might get our arms pulled off.’
‘Only one way to find out. Are you ready?’
Sally hesitated. ‘Would you mind if we step hand in hand? We could get in a mess if we got separated during this stunt.’
‘True enough.’ He took her hand. ‘OK, Sally. Do your stuff.’
She seemed to defocus, as if she was no longer aware of him. She sniffed the air and eyed the light, and made moves oddly like tai chi, graceful, testing, questing – or maybe as if she were dowsing for water.
And they stepped. The stepping itself was sharper than usual, and there was a brief sensation of plumm
eting as if down a water slide, and it left Joshua colder, as if the process somehow absorbed energy. They emerged on another beach, another world – wintry, bleak. The soft places didn’t get you all the way at once, then. And they weren’t in the same place, geographically; Joshua could see that immediately. Stranger and stranger. Again Sally turned this way and that, questing.
It took four steps in all. But at last there was Happy Landings, with the Mark Twain overhead.
People were pleased to see them back, if surprised. Everyone was friendly. Genuinely friendly. Because this was Happy Landings, wasn’t it? Of course they were friendly. The tracks were still clean, spotlessly swept. The drying salmon still hung from rows of neat racks. Men, women, children and trolls mixed happily.
And Joshua felt oddly uncomfortable, once more. A slight feeling you get when everything is so right that it might have gone all the way around the universe and come back metamorphosed into wrong. He’d forgotten, in fact, how persistent this feeling was from his last visit. And that was without mentioning the ubiquitous stink of troll.
As a matter of course, the pair of them were offered lodgings in one of the cottages at the heart of the township. But after a shared glance they decided to bunk down on the Mark Twain. Inevitably a few troll pups followed them up the cables. Joshua made supper up there, with delicious fresh food; as before, people had been amazingly generous with gifts of food and drink.
Afterwards, poisoning herself with instant coffee once again – all that was available now on the injured Mark Twain– and with trolls lounging around the observation deck, Sally said, ‘Come on, out with it, Joshua. I watch people too. I see the look on your face. What’s on your mind?’
‘The same as on yours, I suspect. That there’s something wrong here.’
‘No,’ Sally said. ‘Not wrong. There’s something off, for sure… I’ve been here many times, but I’m more aware of it with you sulking around the place. Of course what we perceive as wrong might be an expression of the significance of the place. But—’
‘Go on. There’s something you want to tell me, right?’
The Long Earth Page 30