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(Pause for thought. Search for word.) watch. Thats it. We watch. I know Dad frets that were all turning into zombies because theres nothing to do out here but chores, and the schooling they try to force on us. But its not like that. We just watch, with nothing to distract us. Thats why were quiet. Not because our brains are mush. Because we watch. And we see things the adults dont see. Some very odd animals and plants that dont fit any storybook of evolution I ever read. The Joker Worlds, in the middle of these boring, arid Mine Belt worlds. The adults think theyre mostly dead. They arent. Believe me. And the Greys. We call them that, even though theyre orange. They look like hairy little kids, but if you ever see one up close, and see the equipment in those orange crotches, believe me, they aint kids. And big eyes, like cartoon aliens. They flicker around the camp. There, gone. Stepping, obviously. Animals that step The Long Earth is stranger than anybody thinks. Even Dad. Even Captain Batson. Even Mr Henry. Especially Mr Henry. Day Two Hundred and EightyOne. Is it November Dad will know. We made it We made it to Earth West 100,000 or, Good Old Hundred K, as us hardened pioneer types call it. The start of the Corn Belt. Good Old Hundred K has a gift shop. You can buy Tshirts and mugs. I Stepped All The Way to Good Old Hundred K. But the labels say Made in China The worlds had been changing for a bit. Greener. Damper. A different set of animals. And, most important, trees. Trees, wood, thats what you need above all else to build a colony and a town and all the rest of it. Which is why weve had to walk so far. Not enough trees in the Mine Belt. Here there is prairie and rainfall and trees: good farming country. Nobody knows how deep the Corn Belt is. Plenty of room out here, and its hard to see how it could be filled up any time soon. Anyhow, now were here. And to prove the point they have a couple of fields out back of the shop where theres corn stubble and sheep grazing, just like home. Sheep Dad said they were descended from little lambs that had to be carried out here from the Datum in the arms of stepping people, because theres no native sheep in North America, on any of the worlds that anybodys found. At the shop they made a fuss of us kids. They had beer and lemonade, homemade stuff with pips in that was the most delicious drink I ever had. They asked us questions about whats going on back East on the Datum and the Low Earths. We yapped and bragged, and we told our own story, of our trek. Every year its a little bit different, apparently. An English woman who introduced herself as Hermione Dawes wrote down our story in a sort of big ledger, in a little library place full of records like that. Ms Dawes told Mom her place in life was writing things down, and she was happy to be out here, to have some real history to record. Shell probably be there for ever, writing stuff down as folk pass her by. People are strange, but if shes happy thats fine by me. Apparently shes married to a cow. We shopped What a luxury. And meanwhile the adults had to go register their claims. There is a US government official, rotated out once every few years, here to check and validate the land grants we bought back on the Datum before we set off. We all compared claim forms to work out where to go. In the event the adults picked a world at random: number West 101,753. A weeks easy stroll. We formed up, the Doaks and Harry Bergreen and his fiddle, yay, and Melissa Harris, well, OK, and Reese Henry, the less said the better. A hundred in all. And we set off. We stepped and camped with a discipline that would have made Captain Batson proud. Though Mrs Harris still didnt take her turns with the laundry. A week later, when we got to 101,753, it was raining. So we all looked at each other, and held hands in our groups, and took another step into the sunshine. And that was how we chose one whole world over another. Because it happened to be sunny when we got there There might have been diamond mountains in Australia back in 753 and wed never know. It didnt matter. Earth West 101,754: our Earth. Were there 19 THAT FIRST AFTERNOON of flight, the Mark Twain stepped again and again, each transition causing a thrill to travel down Joshuas spine. The stepping rate was increasing, slowly, as Lobsang explored the capabilities of his ship. Joshua could count the passing worlds using little monitors Lobsang called earthometers, embedded in the walls of every cabin. They had enough digits, he saw, to allow them to count up to the millions. And as it stepped, the airship was travelling laterally too, heading west across Eurasia. The monitors had a little map display so Joshua could follow its course; their position was derived from star sightings, but the layout of the landscapes they crossed on these unexplored worlds was based on guesswork. On the observation deck, sitting opposite Joshua, Lobsang smiled his plastic smile. They both cradled coffees Lobsang sipped his too, and Joshua imagined some tank in his belly filling up.

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