The Long Earth

know. I could be wrong. I’ve never been there; I was born in Birmingham. In England, not in Alabama. The original and best.’ He got back blank looks. ‘So you have looked at my résumé?’
    An anxious-looking woman asked, ‘You really can do all you say? Make bronze? Does anyone do that these days?’
    ‘Yes, ma’am. Back on West 1 I spent four years as apprentice to smiths who knew their stuff. As for iron, starting from scratch, all I need is the ore. I can make my own forge, I can make my own furnace, I can draw wires. By the way I’m a fair electrician; give me a waterwheel and I can fit up your colony with electricity. Oh, and weapons: I can knock up a decent musket – it couldn’t compete with a modern design, but good enough for hunting.
    ‘The engagement I’m looking for is three years.’ He was warming to his pitch now. ‘Under the aegis regulations I will have American citizenship by the end of the third year. You, ladies and gentlemen, will be way ahead of the curve.’ He held out his notebook, opened at a page. ‘And
this
is what you will pay me, please.’
    There was a gasp from the would-be citizens of the New Frontier. Eventually Green said, ‘Is this negotiable?’
    ‘Only upwards, I’m afraid. You can make a deposit in Pioneer Support. Oh, if you want me to train up an apprentice then that will be extra, on account of they would be more of a hindrance than a help.’
    He smiled before their doubtful faces. It wasn’t the moment for a hard sell, he decided. They looked a decent bunch, just folk keen to step Westward with a group of like-minded individuals, looking for a place to spread out, a place where you could trust your neighbours, in a world where the air was clean and you could start over in search of a better future. It was the dream, it had
always
been the dream. Even their kids looked bright as buttons.
    ‘Look, Mr Green, I’ve done my homework too. I’ve seen your Company’s prospectus and I can see that a lot of thought has gone into your venture. You’ve got your medic, your carpenter, you’ve got a chemist. I like your style. Yours won’t be the only offer I could get today, but you guys appear to be a solid bunch with your heads screwed on right. I’m with you if you want me. Do we have a deal?’
    They had a deal.
    That night Franklin packed his bags and his non-ferrous toolbox for the journey. Now all he had to do was to make sure he kept his secret for the duration of the trek, and
that
meant making sure he didn’t try to step without a potato in his Stepper.
    He had heard about natural steppers on the net. Then, back in West 1, just for the hell of it, one night he’d tried to step with the potato out of the box, a box without power. He was amazed when it worked. Oddly enough, he still needed the box, to throw the switch . He needed to hear the click to be able to step, it seemed; how weird was that?
    Yes, he’d heard rumours about people like him. And other rumours, about beatings of such people. Like you were a freak, or unnatural. So he’d keep himself to himself on the trek, and replace the potato, and fake the nausea, and all the rest. It wasn’t so hard when you got the habit.
    Although you did start to wonder how many of those around you were similarly faking too.
    He slept well that night, dreaming of hot forges and distant hills.

18
    DAY THREE (SINCE Richmond West 10)
.
    Three days already! But Captain Batson says it is going to take us a hundred days to cross the Ice Belt. And
then
we’ll take months more to cross the Mine Belt, whatever
that
is. We have to get to where we’re going before winter comes. And winter comes the same on all the worlds.
    We’re doing about a step a minute, for about six hours of every day. We take pills to stop from being sick all the time, but it’s still an effort. They try to lead us to places where the ground level doesn’t change much from world to world. It’s a jolt if you drop down, and you can’t step at all if your ankles would be five inches underground. But it’s quite a sight to see two hundred people with all their packs and stuff twinkling out of sight, and then twinkling back in the next world, over and over.
    I miss being online.
    I miss my phone!!!
    I miss school. Or some of the people in it, anyway. Not some others.
    I MISS ROD. Even though he could be a weirdo.
    I miss being a cheerleader.
    Dad says I should say some of what I like too. Otherwise this journal won’t be a fun read