global view – and I am scarcely capable of less – it seems to me that humanity’s response to Yellowstone has been characterized by a startling outbreak of what Sister Agnes once described as common sense .’
And, just as he uttered those words, a figure in an orange jumpsuit, barefoot, with shaven head, materialized out of thin air, already in the middle of a flying leap. ‘HAAARRRGGH!’
‘Not now, Cho-je!—’
But Lobsang’s words were cut off as the newcomer wrapped his legs tight around Lobsang’s neck. Lobsang was forced to the frozen ground – but as he fell he stepped away, disappearing, leaving the newcomer rolling alone in the dirty ice, ash staining his orange jumpsuit.
Joshua carried a gun, bronze, steppable. He always carried a gun. Before the guy could stir Joshua had the weapon out in front of him, held two-handed, legs wide. ‘I knew I heard something tracking us. Don’t move, grasshopper.’
But Lobsang appeared at his side, breathing hard, his robe ripped at the neck. ‘It’s all right, Joshua. I’m under no real threat. This is just—’
‘HYY-AAGH!’ The guy on the ground did a kind of back flip, and once more launched himself through the air at Lobsang. But Lobsang dipped into his own forward roll, and the newcomer was sent flying. This time it was the assailant who stepped away, before he hit the ground.
Lobsang straightened up, breathing hard. ‘It’s one of Agnes’s ideas. You see—’
‘NYA-HAAH!’ Now the assailant, Cho-je, came back into the world above Lobsang’s head, with his fists clamped together and ready to slam down on Lobsang’s crown. But Lobsang ducked, whirled, and caught him with a kick in the stomach – and again Cho-je disappeared.
Joshua gave up. He holstered his weapon, stood back, and watched the fight. It was a blur of kicks, punches, even head-butts that rained in with hard, meat-slapping impacts, and of stepping, as the two figures popped in and out of existence, each trying to get the down on the other. During his travels with Lobsang Joshua had watched plenty of Jackie Chan movies. And out in the Long Earth he had been involved in his own battles with elves, stepping humanoids honed by the hunt, who could cross between the worlds with such precision that they could materialize alongside you with their hands already in position to close around your throat. This was something like all of that, he thought, hastily mashed together, a high-speed blur of action that was all but impossible to follow.
‘HEE-ARR-AARGH!’
‘Cho-je, you fool!—’
It ended when Lobsang grabbed Cho-je’s left hand, as if to shake it, and, holding on hard, executed a standing somersault. When it was done he was still holding the hand , which had been ripped off at the wrist. Cho-je, bemused, breathing hard, looked at the stump of his arm; Joshua saw LEDs spark amid a whitish fluid that dripped to the ground.
Cho-je bowed to Lobsang. ‘Nice work! Good to see Sister Agnes’s care has not softened you up!’
‘On the contrary,’ Lobsang said. ‘Until we meet again.’
‘Until then. If I may have my detached extremity . . .’ Lobsang gave him back the severed hand, and Cho-je snapped out of existence.
‘So, Lobsang – Cho-je?’
Lobsang was sweating, quite convincingly. ‘As I said, Agnes’s idea. She has the notion that I’m too powerful. I need challenges, she says. So I endure an endless routine of toughening up and training. Actually, Joshua, Agnes got the idea for Cho-je from my account of our sparring matches during our voyage on the Mark Twain . I do derive enormous benefit in terms of ambulant body control from such exercises, and Cho-je is an increasingly ingenious opponent. By the way, in addition to this training partner, she also recruited another, one of the past inmates from the Home, a rather reclusive young man who has devoted his life to launching ingenious computer-virus attacks on me.’
‘Viruses, huh?’
They began to walk
And, just as he uttered those words, a figure in an orange jumpsuit, barefoot, with shaven head, materialized out of thin air, already in the middle of a flying leap. ‘HAAARRRGGH!’
‘Not now, Cho-je!—’
But Lobsang’s words were cut off as the newcomer wrapped his legs tight around Lobsang’s neck. Lobsang was forced to the frozen ground – but as he fell he stepped away, disappearing, leaving the newcomer rolling alone in the dirty ice, ash staining his orange jumpsuit.
Joshua carried a gun, bronze, steppable. He always carried a gun. Before the guy could stir Joshua had the weapon out in front of him, held two-handed, legs wide. ‘I knew I heard something tracking us. Don’t move, grasshopper.’
But Lobsang appeared at his side, breathing hard, his robe ripped at the neck. ‘It’s all right, Joshua. I’m under no real threat. This is just—’
‘HYY-AAGH!’ The guy on the ground did a kind of back flip, and once more launched himself through the air at Lobsang. But Lobsang dipped into his own forward roll, and the newcomer was sent flying. This time it was the assailant who stepped away, before he hit the ground.
Lobsang straightened up, breathing hard. ‘It’s one of Agnes’s ideas. You see—’
‘NYA-HAAH!’ Now the assailant, Cho-je, came back into the world above Lobsang’s head, with his fists clamped together and ready to slam down on Lobsang’s crown. But Lobsang ducked, whirled, and caught him with a kick in the stomach – and again Cho-je disappeared.
Joshua gave up. He holstered his weapon, stood back, and watched the fight. It was a blur of kicks, punches, even head-butts that rained in with hard, meat-slapping impacts, and of stepping, as the two figures popped in and out of existence, each trying to get the down on the other. During his travels with Lobsang Joshua had watched plenty of Jackie Chan movies. And out in the Long Earth he had been involved in his own battles with elves, stepping humanoids honed by the hunt, who could cross between the worlds with such precision that they could materialize alongside you with their hands already in position to close around your throat. This was something like all of that, he thought, hastily mashed together, a high-speed blur of action that was all but impossible to follow.
‘HEE-ARR-AARGH!’
‘Cho-je, you fool!—’
It ended when Lobsang grabbed Cho-je’s left hand, as if to shake it, and, holding on hard, executed a standing somersault. When it was done he was still holding the hand , which had been ripped off at the wrist. Cho-je, bemused, breathing hard, looked at the stump of his arm; Joshua saw LEDs spark amid a whitish fluid that dripped to the ground.
Cho-je bowed to Lobsang. ‘Nice work! Good to see Sister Agnes’s care has not softened you up!’
‘On the contrary,’ Lobsang said. ‘Until we meet again.’
‘Until then. If I may have my detached extremity . . .’ Lobsang gave him back the severed hand, and Cho-je snapped out of existence.
‘So, Lobsang – Cho-je?’
Lobsang was sweating, quite convincingly. ‘As I said, Agnes’s idea. She has the notion that I’m too powerful. I need challenges, she says. So I endure an endless routine of toughening up and training. Actually, Joshua, Agnes got the idea for Cho-je from my account of our sparring matches during our voyage on the Mark Twain . I do derive enormous benefit in terms of ambulant body control from such exercises, and Cho-je is an increasingly ingenious opponent. By the way, in addition to this training partner, she also recruited another, one of the past inmates from the Home, a rather reclusive young man who has devoted his life to launching ingenious computer-virus attacks on me.’
‘Viruses, huh?’
They began to walk
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