The Long War by Terry Pratchett, Stephen Baxter Read Free Book Online

calendar – sunrise and sunset, the seasons – seemed synchronized from world to world, according to last week’s Nature some of the new Earths did not appear to tick exactly to the same clock, sometimes leading or following their immediate neighbours by a fraction of a second, as you could prove by such means as very precise astronomical observations, like the occultation of stars by the moon. The discrepancies were minute but real. Nelson could think of no plausible explanation for this. Nobody knew how or why this phenomenon happened, but as yet nobody was researching it because it was just one of a multitude of puzzles generated by the multiple worlds. How strange, how eerie . . .
    Of course he had stopped thinking like a priest, having, perhaps shamefully, reverted to his ground state of being: a scientist. But still, people all over the world – including some of his own flock – had for a quarter of a century now been abandoning their homes and packing up their kids and buggering off into this great hall of worlds called the Long Earth, and yet nobody knew how it worked, even on the most basic level of how time flowed, or how all those worlds had got there . . . and still less what they were for . How was a priest supposed to react to that?
    Which was, indirectly anyhow, the reason for Nelson’s current inner turmoil.
    Fortunately for the goats and the gravid sheep around him, and for Joy, the young sheepdog Ken was training, they did not have to lie awake at night wondering about this sort of thing. Having given him their usual slotted glances, the animals ambled away, the sheep eating the grass, the goats devouring just about everything else.
    Shepherd Ken had told him how the whole Long Earth deal worked for the likes of him. In England West and East 1 and 2, the farmers had been clearing forested land on a scale not seen since the Stone Age – and they had had to relearn how to do it. First you cut down a lot of trees, being careful to put the timber to good use, and then you set loose the animals, either bred here or carried over as young from the Datum one by one. Any hopeful saplings would succumb to the onslaught of the sheep and goats, forestalling the return of the forest. And in time the grass would come. Clever stuff, grass, Ken liked to say, a plant that actually thrived on being eaten down to the ground.
    Nelson had rather misjudged Ken when he had first met this suntanned, rugged, rather taciturn man, a local whose ancestors had lived on these hills since there were such things as ancestors. It was only by chance that he found out that Ken had been a lecturer at the University of Bath until, like many others, shortly after Step Day he re-evaluated his lifestyle and his future – which turned out, in his case, to be this farm just one step away from the Datum.
    In that, Ken was typical of his nation, in a way. The British experience of the Long Earth had been in the beginning mostly a painful one. Such had been the early exodus from these crowded islands, particularly from the battered industrial cities of the north, Wales and Scotland, regions isolated from the increasingly complacent city-state that was London, that a rapid population loss had led to an economic crash – even a collapse of the currency, briefly. They had called it the Great Bog Off.
    But then the stepwise Britains had begun their own economic growth. And there had been a second wave of emigration, more cautious, hard-headed and industrious. By now there were whole new Industrial Revolutions going on in the Low Earths; the British seemed to have the building of steam engines and railways in their genes. Some of that hard-acquired wealth had already started to flow back into the Datum.
    In the long run, in their exploration and colonization of the Long Earth, the British had proved to be thorough, patient, careful, and ultimately pretty successful. Just like Ken.
    But now Nelson had his own journey to make.
    They spent some