The Long Utopia

But Earth was evolving quickly, and even that comparison was soon lost. With startling speed the continents dissolved, as if fifty-mile-thick granite was no more than a mere skim being burned away by the red-white heat of the interior. Now Lobsang saw raftlike fragments of landscapes rotate, tip up, even grind against each other in collisions that threw up immense mountain ranges that could survive only minutes. Surely, already, nothing could be left alive down there: nothing left of Stan and Sally.

And still the spin-up continued. He could see the growing obliquity of the world as a whole now; the planet seemed to soften, its surface stretching, accommodating. It seemed to him that a new transient geography was forming on the exposed mantle, with rivers of hotter material erupting from the interior and ru

Now a new phase began. What looked like a kind of tornado opened up on the equator, directly below Lobsang’s position, a swirling mass with a darker centre – a centre that exploded with stupendous force, spraying fragments out into the dissipating atmosphere. It was a volcano, a massive outlet of mantle energies, on whose flanks even Yellowstone would have been no more than a glowing speck. Looking to the planet’s horizon Lobsang saw more such giant features in profile, blisters visibly rising about the world’s distorted curve, all around the equator. And from this angle Lobsang could see huge bolides thrown out, masses of glowing rock rising above the horizon, for a few moments still falling back to the sea of molten silicate below. But then came one tremendous eruption, and a spray of bolides escaped from the world altogether and sailed off into space, spi

Now he saw evidence of the beetles, for the first time. What looked like tremendous filmy butterflies, with wings of net that must be hundreds of kilometres across, came sailing down from higher orbit to drift through the gathering ring of cooling rock fragments around the equator, scooping them up. A cynical harvest was begi

The world’s shape seemed to deform visibly now. The poles must be sinking at hundreds of miles per hour, the equator distorting at a similar rate, and the big volcanoes became mouths that vomited material continuously into space. The surface was featureless, almost, save for the equatorial volcanic wounds. The world was a drop of liquid, with an almost abstract beauty, Lobsang thought.

Then there was a kind of pause, as if the planet was drawing breath.

And the surface seemed to lift off, all at once, like a tremendous global eruption. Vast amounts of material, a spray of shining rock and clouds of plasma, lifted high into space, some of it flowing in great currents in the sky, perhaps shaped by the remnant magnetic field. Lobsang saw a brighter, i

The net-ships of the beetles fed eagerly.

And as the mass of the Earth dispersed, its gravity field gently began to loose its hold on Lobsang’s vessel, a tiny, u

With the wreckage of Earth receding, Lobsang turned his mind to the future. His own future.

He took an inventory of his ship’s systems. This was a hardy little craft; as long as it didn’t get swept up by the beetles itself, it would survive the death of the world. As well as a robust i

And, he discovered, the craft had a limited but functional self-repair capability. Even a small matter printer. This was no silver beetle, but the probe could manufacture spare parts to maintain itself, even manipulate its environment. He could last indefinitely, as long as he could reach a source of raw materials. He could even build himself a new body.

Where to go, though, to find those raw materials? Off on a comet, perhaps? Or further out into the dark, where ice worlds swarmed far beyond the planets? And if he could get out there, he would not be helpless; there was no end of things he could do. But there was plenty of time for that.

Plenty of time, too, to reflect on what he had seen. All he had left behind.

He felt a sharp stab of loss, as if Ben’s face had materialized before him. But the choice was made, and it had been the right one. He had his memories, of Selena Jones, of Joshua – of Agnes, of Ben, of their home. And he had plenty of time to deal with a cosmos full of the silver beetles who had destroyed everything he cared about.

He fired the small rocket. The tiny ship slowly drifted away from the ruin of the Earth, away from the feeding frenzy of the beetles, towards the cool spaces beyond. He had plans to make, places to go.

And he smiled.

Just like before, Agnes. Soon, once again, I’ll be in with the Oort cloud.

Acknowledgements

We’re very grateful to our good friend Jacqueline Simpson for tracking down the source of Stan Berg’s quotation in Chapter 48 – ‘You ca

All errors and inaccuracies are of course our sole responsibility.

T.P.

S.B.

December 2014, Datum Earth

About the Authors

Terry Pratchett was the acclaimed creator of the global bestselling Discworld series, the first of which, The Colour of Magic, was published in 1983. His fortieth Discworld novel, Raising Steam, was published in 2013. His books have been widely adapted for stage and screen, and he was the wi

www.terrypratchett.co.uk

@terryandrob

Stephen Baxter is one of the UK’s most acclaimed writers of science fiction and a multi-award wi

For further information, visit www.stephen-baxter.com

BOOKS BY TERRY PRATCHETT

The Discworld® series

1. THE COLOUR OF MAGIC

2. THE LIGHT FANTASTIC

3. EQUAL RITES

4. MORT

5. SOURCERY

6. WYRD SISTERS

7. PYRAMIDS

8. GUARDS! GUARDS!

9. ERIC

(illustrated by Josh Kirby)

10. MOVING PICTURES

11. REAPER MAN

12. WITCHES ABROAD

13. SMALL GODS

14. LORDS AND LADIES

15. MEN AT ARMS

16. SOUL MUSIC

17. INTERESTING TIMES

18. MASKERADE

19. FEET OF CLAY

20. HOGFATHER

21. JINGO

22. THE LAST CONTINENT

23. CARPE JUGULUM