Chapters (51)
- Dedication
- Timeline
- Prelude: The Ediacaran Period
- PART 1
- 1.
- Interlude: The Wanderers
- 2.
- Interlude: The Philosophers
- 3.
- Interlude: The Warmongers
- 4.
- Interlude: The Posticthyans
- 5.
- PART 2
- 6.
- Interlude: The Utopians
- 7.
- Interlude: The Dead
- 8.
- Interlude: The Aeronauts
- 9.
- Interlude: The Hunters
- 10.
- Interlude: The City-Builders
- 11.
- PART 3
- 12.
- Interlude: The Hedonists
- 13.
- Interlude: The Purists
- 14.
- PART 4
- 15.
- Interlude: The Humans
- 16.
- Interlude: The Ediacaran
- 17.
- 17/1.
- 17/2.
- 17/3.
- Postscript
- I
- SPECIAL ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Discover More
- extras
- meet the author
- if you enjoyed
- if you enjoyed
- CHAPTER 1
- BY ADRIAN TCHAIKOVSKY
- Praise for
“Murther’s people have been skipping from Earth to Earth for ages.” Khan eyed the Cousin scientist. “They have a lot of great tech too, and they’ve solved all sorts of problems that we haven’t. And they’ll help, if we behave ourselves! This is our big opportunity to be part of something bigger and get all the good stuff.” Someone obviously made a signal to her off camera—Julian remembered it had been him, in fact—because Kay rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Loves, I am all out of this diplomacy stuff. What more can I say? This is a thing that’s happening.” She looked directly to the camera once more. “Along with my ‘Christmas Message,’ you’re getting my proofs, my equations, all nicely set out. Any physicist who wants to double-check these signs of impending doom can do so. They can then confirm to their local representatives that yes, this phase of Earth’s history is on its way out. And no, you can’t do anything to stop it. Believe me—and feel free to check the workings in the appendices—we looked at every other damn possibility. We checked if we could carry on in splendid isolation, and it was a bust.” She grinned abruptly. “That’s it, I’m done, loves. Show it to your presidents, show it to the Queen. Show it to the chairmen, your premiers and the Pope.” She got up abruptly, forcing Ertil to scrabble at the tabletop to remain seated on his high stool. “Peace out,” were the last words of Dr. Kay Amal Khan’s message to the human race.
Leslie Hind had watched this in her office, stony-faced, as Julian and Alison shifted awkwardly in their seats. After the recording ended, she regarded the static on the screen for a long time.
“I dearly want,” she said at last, “to ask if this is a joke, in incredibly poor taste. But we have the RAF all over the sky above London right now. That alone is ample evidence that it is not.” She stared at them both in turn. “What am I supposed to do with this, Julian? Alison?”
Julian squared his shoulders. “You’ll have to take it to the Home Secretary. Who has to take it to the Prime Minister. Who will have to take it to the UN. And this recording isn’t just with us, either. Every government will have a copy by now. I’d guess you have maybe two weeks before it starts appearing on YouTube, if that. What we have to do is act on this information. Start talking, making plans. Decide whether we’re going to accept help from our new neighbours—working with whatever price they set—or go it alone, hoping we’ll be able to manage.”