Flushing, Howard said, 'It's not my job to figure out where I am; I was told to come here and set up monitoring systems for a QB satellite, and that’s what I've done. We've had sufficient rotations already to assure us that we're on Terra; we've seen all the normal land-mass outlines, all the familiar continents and islands. Personally, I'm content simply to accept the obvious fact that this is our own world, although somehow altered; as, for example, the reformation of lightclusters.
And, in addition, we've not been able to pick up transmissions from any satellite except the QB launched earlier today. The air is dead.'
'On what frequencies ?' Woodbine said.
'On every frequency we've tried. Starting with the thirty-meter band and working on up.'
'Nothing ?' Woodbine persisted. 'Nothing at all ? That's impossible. Unless we're back before the days of radio.' He glanced at Stanley and Turpin. 'Back before 1900. But even so the U.K. should be lit up; it's one of the most densely populated areas in the world and was such back in the
1900s ... back for centuries. I don't understand.'
'Cloud layers ?' Stanley asked Howard. 'Masking the surface ?'
'Possibly,' Howard said. 'But that wouldn't explain the concentration of lights on the African
Continent. Nothing explains that.'
'We must have gone ahead into the future,' Stanley said.
"Then why no radio transmissions on any frequency ?' Woodbine said.
'Maybe they don't need to use the airwaves any more,' Stanley said. 'Maybe they communicate by direct mind-to-mind telepathy or something on that order which we know nothing about.'
'But the sky map,' Woodbine said. 'The stellar charts which your astrophysicists developed distinctly set the time as being identical with ours. We're coeval with this world, whether we like it - or can make up a theory about it - or not. Let's face this fact and not try to weasel around it.
But why waste time theorizing ? All we really have to do is make physical contact with one of these illuminated settlements and we'll know the answers.' He looked extremely impatient. 'Haul some sort of vehicle over here, a jet-hopper perhaps, and let’s get started.'
Stanley said, 'There is a 'hopper over here already. From the beginning, we intended to provide
Mr. Turpin with an aerial view. After all, this entire place, whatever it is, belongs to him.'
Snorting, Woodbine said, "The government may have something to say about that. Especially if
Briskin is elected, which I understand is certain now.'
'We'll fight it in the courts,' Turpin said. 'Typical socialism, bureaucratic governmental interference in the free enterprise system; we've had enough of that. Anyhow, TD and TD alone has the means of getting over here. Or does the fedgov plan to seize the 'scuttler ?'
'Very probably it does,' Woodbine said. 'Or will, after Briskin is in. Even Bill Schwarz may want to; he's not that stupid.'
Bristling, Turpin said, 'Look here, Woodbine, you're working for TD, now. Our opinion is your opinion, whether you like it or not. This place is company property, and no one can come here without TD's permission. And that includes you,' Turpin said, turning toward the news media people. 'So watch your step.'
'Just a moment,' Howard said. "The boys want me back.' He hurried over to his post at the monitoring gear. Presently he returned, a perplexed expression on his face. 'They're picking up no lights from Australia,' he said. 'But a tremendous concentration from Southeast Asia and from the region of the Gobi Desert. The greatest concentrations yet. And all throughout China. But none in Japan.'
'Where are we on the planet's surface ?' Woodbine asked. 'According to the QB ?'
'In North America on the East Coast. Near the Potomac. Where the TD central complex is located - or at least in that vicinity, give or take ten miles.'
'There's no TD here,' Woodbine said. 'And no Washington D.C. So that's that. We haven't gone through a circular doorway and found ourselves led back to a remote area of our own world. This may be Earth, but it's obvious that it isn't our Earth. In that case, whose is it ? And how many
Earths are there ?'
'I thought there was only one,' Turpin said.
'And they used to think that one was flat,' Woodbine reminded him. 'You learn as you go along.
I'd like to get into that jet-hopper right now, if no one objects, and get started surveying. Is that agreeable, Turpin ?'
'Yes, it is,' Turpin said eagerly. 'What do you think we'll find, Frank ? Is this more or less exciting than exploring planets in other star systems ?' He chuckled knowingly. 'I can see you're all steamed up, Frank; this situation has got you hooked.'
Shrugging, Woodbine said, 'Why not ?' He started toward the jet-hopper; Leon Turpin and
Stanley followed. 'I never implied I was jaded; I certainly am not about to fall asleep over this.'
'I know what this is!' Leon Turpin bleated excitedly. 'Listen, this is a parallel Earth, in another universe; do you get it ? Maybe there are hundreds of them, all alike physically but you know, branching off and evolving differently.'
Sourly, Woodbine said, 'Let's not go up in the 'hopper; let's just stand here in one spot with our eyes shut and theorize.'
But I know I'm right, Leon Turpin said to himself. I've got a sure instinct, sometimes; that's how
I rose to be chairman of the board of directors of TD. Frank Woodbine will find out, pretty soon, and he'll have to apologize to me. I'll wait for that and not say anything more.
Together, Woodbine and Stanley assisted the old man in entering the 'hopper. The hatch slid shut; the 'hopper rose in the air and headed out across the meadow and over the nearby great trees.
If that's true, Turpin realized suddenly, then TD owns an entire Earth. And, since I control TD, what Don Stanley said is true; Earth belongs to me. This particular Earth, anyhow. But isn't one as good as another ? They're all equally real.
Rubbing his hands together with excitement, Turpin said, 'Isn't this a lovely virgin place ? Look at that forest down below; look at all that timber!' And mines, he realized. Maybe there's never been any coal mined here or oil wells sunk. All the metals, all the ores, may still be buried, on this particular Earth - unlike our own, where everything valuable has been brought up long ago.
I'd rather possess this one than our own, Turpin said to himself. Any day. Who wants a worn-out world, thoroughly exploited over tens of centuries ?
'I'll carry it to the Supreme Court,' he said aloud, 'with the finest legal minds in the world. I'll put all the financial resources of TD into this, even if it breaks the company's back. It'll be worth it.'
Both Stanley and Woodbine glanced at him sourly.
Below them, directly ahead, lay an ocean. Evidently it was the Atlantic, Turpin decided. It looked like the Atlantic, at least. Gazing down at the shoreline, he saw only trees. No roads, no towns - in fact no sign of human habitation of any variety whatsoever. Like it was before the damn Pilgrims showed up here, he said to himself. But he also saw no Indians, either. Strange.
Assuming he was correct, assuming this was an Earth parallel to their own, why was it so underpopulated ? For instance, what had become of the racial groups which had lived in North
America before the whites arrived ?
Could parallel Earths differ that much and still be considered authentically parallel ? Unparallel is more like it, Turpin decided.
All at once in a hoarse voice, Don Stanley said, 'Woodbine, something is following us.'
Turpin looked back, but his eyes were not good enough; he made out nothing in the bright blue mid-morning sky. Woodbine, however, seemed able to see it; he grunted, rose from the controls of the 'hopper and stood peering. By autopilot, the 'hopper continued on.
'It's losing ground,' Stanley said. 'We're leaving it behind. Want to turn around and approach it ?'