The Long Earth

– or else, as it dawned on them that there was an infinity of worlds out there none of which were owned by people like Jim Russo, they simply walked away, into the endless spaces. Some people just seemed to keep walking and walking, living off the land as best they could. Long Earth Syndrome, they called it. And that was where the complaints about Russo were coming from. He was said to be tying his workers up with punitive contracts to keep them from straying, and then going after them with hired muscle if they reneged.
    She had the sudden instinct that this man was going to fail, as he had before. And when it all started going belly-up he was going to be cutting even more corners.
    ‘Mr Russo, we need to get down to the specifics of the complaints against you. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?’
    ‘Of course …’
    All over the nearby Earths, Jansson knew, on worlds becoming sweatshops overnight, people were dreaming of escape, of freedom. As she waited for a coffee Jansson spotted a flyer in Russo’s own in-tray, just a page crudely printed on pulpy paper, about the formation of yet another new Company to go trek up West. Dreams of the new frontier, even here in this minor businessman’s office. Sometimes Jansson, nearing forty now, wondered if she should up sticks and go out herself, and leave the Datum and the increasingly murky Low Earths behind.

14
    DREAMS OF THE Long Earth. Dreams of the frontier. Yes, ten years after Step Day, Jack Green had understood that. Because they had been his wife’s dreams, and Jack had feared they were tearing his family apart.
    January 1. Madison West 5. We came to stay at a lodge here for New Year after Cristmas Christmas at home but we will have to go bak back to the Datum for school. My name is Helen Green. I am elven eleven years old. My mother (Dr Tilda Lang Green) says I should keep a jurnal jorunal journal in this bok book which was a Christmas presnt present from Aunt Meryl because there mite might be no electrics electronics this thing have no spellchecker it drive me CRAYZEE!!! …
    Jack Green carefully turned the pages of his daughter’s journal. It was like a fat paperback book, though with the pulpy graininess of much of the paper produced here in West 5. He was alone in Helen’s room, on a bright Sunday afternoon. Helen was out playing softball in ParkZone Four. Katie was out too, he wasn’t sure where. And Tilda was downstairs talking with a group of the friends and colleagues she had managed to snag into the idea of forming a Company to go West.
    ‘… Empires rise and they fall. Look at Turkey. That was a great empire once and you wouldn’t believe it now …’
    ‘… If you’re middle class you look to the left and see the activists undermining American values, and to the right and you see how free trade has exported our jobs …’
    ‘… We believed in America. Now we seem to be mired in mediocrity, while the Chinese steam ahead …’
    Tilda’s voice: ‘The notion of Manifest Destiny is historically suspect, of course. But you can’t deny the importance of the frontier experience to the making of the American consciousness. Well, now the frontier is opening up again, for our generation and maybe for uncountable generations to follow …’
    The group conversation broke up into a general susurrus of noise, and Jack smelled a rich aroma. Time for coffee and cookies.
    He returned to the diary. At last he came to an entry that mentioned his son. He read on, skimming over the spelling errors and crossings-out.
    March 23. We have moved to our new house in Madison West 5. It will be fun here in the summer. Dad and Mom take it in turns to go back, they have to work on the Datum for the money. And we had to leave Rod again with Auntie Meryl because he is a fobic
[she meant phobic, a non-stepper – Jack tripped over that spelling]
and can’t step it’s sad I cried this time after we stepped away but Rod didn’t cry unless he did after we had gone. I will write to him in the summer and will go back and see him IT IS SAD because it is fun here in the summer and Rod can’t come …
    ‘Tut tut.’ His wife’s voice. ‘That’s private.’
    He turned, guilty. ‘I know, I know. But we’re going through such changes. I feel the need to know what’s going on in their heads. I think that trumps the privacy thing, just for now.’
    She shrugged. ‘That’s your judgement.’ She had brought him a coffee, a brimming mug. She turned and