The Long War

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.

In Madison West 5, this new city that was growing up to replace the bombed-out hulk of the old – based on a new post-Step Day urban development where, as it happened, Helen had briefly lived with her family before their stepwise trek – the Home had been duplicated meticulously, aside from having various flaws fixed; Joshua himself had given over some money to see to that. Sister Agnes had lived to oversee the rebuilding.

And then she had died, in the autumn sunlight of a new Earth. She had been buried in the sight of plenty of important people – some of whom, Joshua knew, would frankly have liked to see her dead a lot earlier.

For now, her body had a brand-new cemetery plot all to itself. It was a clear, bright May afternoon when Joshua arrived with his bouquet and placed it dutifully on the stone, in this small plot outside the Home. There were flowers here already, from the Sisters themselves, and from other grown-up inmates who had benefited from Agnes’s indefatigable patience, her thoughtful love.

He lost track of time, alone for once, not moving. If he was spotted by anybody within the quiet Home, he wasn’t disturbed.

He was surprised to notice the shadows starting to lengthen, the afternoon drawing on. He left the little graveyard, to start the long walk back to Jansson’s.

And he saw a figure standing across the road. A woman in a nun’s habit, just standing, apparently watching him. He crossed the road. He couldn’t see her face; she looked youngish. ‘Can I help you, Sister?’

‘Well, I’ve been away . . .’ Her voice was a soft brogue. ‘I only learned of Agnes’s death recently . . . Would you be Joshua Valienté, by any chance? Your face is familiar from the news. Oh dear me, where are my manners? I am Sister Conception. Agnes and me, we went back a long way. In fact we took our vows together. I knew she would become a force in the world, always knew it, even though she could be a mouthy madam . . .’

Joshua stayed silent.

‘Sister Conception’ took a long look at Joshua’s face. ‘It isn’t working, is it?’

‘Well, if you want me to think that you aren’t who you really are, no. I’d know her in the pitch dark. I can remember her walking through the dormitory every night, before standing at the door and turning the light out. The click of that old Bakelite switch, held together with glue because there was never any money for a rewiring. The way she made us all feel safe . . . Besides, she never was a good liar. Or any good at an Irish accent.’

‘Joshua—’

‘I think I can work it out. Lobsang?’

‘Lobsang.’

‘A stunt like this is just like him. And it was me who brought him in to see Agnes when she was dying. All my fault, probably. And now – well, here you are.’

‘Joshua—’

‘Hello, Agnes.’ He threw his arms around her, until she burst out laughing and pushed him away.