The moment they were back inside the house, Harold turned to Dave and said:
"I've just learned from Sean that Dave - your older son - won't be joining us for another week."
Dave looked uncomfortable. He said:
"Yes, that's what he told me too. He's still got some things to get done before he can make a move."
"What things?"
"He's assembling the equipment for a proper geologist's lab. You know, to examine minerals from the New World."
"We can't send that lab there."
"No, but we can send the mineral samples here."
"Listen, mate," said Harold. "We really need him in the New World. We need to find metal ores. Those stone tools we've got - I needn't tell you how bad they are. Those clay blades Susan's been making are only useful for plants and hides. They crack and chip even on soft wood. We need metal tools, and to get metal tools we must find metal ore."
"Exactly," said Dave. "That's why we must have a proper geologist's lab set up. To examine the minerals we've found for metal ore content."
"But we haven't found any metal ore at all near our settlement."
"Not with our skills. But Dave might very well find that minerals we've dismissed as worthless are actually worth something."
"You think so?"
"I'm sure of it. We'll look really silly if we start sending expeditions to look for ore, and find out we had a good source sitting right under our noses all along."
Harold sighed.
"All right," he said. "But there's also another problem, a big problem. In a week's time, I'm supposed to implant the youngsters I've recruited for our colony. They're going to arrive there and see a settlement that has obviously been founded a long time earlier. They could be bamboozled into believing we've managed to build all that in just over two months of New World time if there are plenty of settlers there. There's no chance of them buying into that if it's just me and Gladys. I know we can count on your family not to blab to anyone that we've had an illegal colony going for a while. But the people I've recruited - they will talk. They'll be all excited and eager to tell all their friends about their adventures in the New World, and you can bet anything you like that whatever they say will find its way to Henry."
"Relax, mate," Dave said. "We've known Henry for a long, long time. He'll be flexible. As a matter of fact, I think he suspects we have something going over there already. It's not in his interest to make anything out of it. He needs established colonies. He needs them to produce as much food as fast as they can, he's told us that more than once. He's not going to revoke our licenses."
"He'll be forced to when it becomes public knowledge that we've been running an illegal colony."
"It's legal now."
"It wasn't when we founded it. And the penalty for running an illegal colony is loss of the license to colonize the New World, and trade in colonial goods. We're going to lose everything if Henry takes action, and he'll be forced to take action when half of Port Douglas starts talking about how those two old geezers, the Pendeltons, managed to build a whole village in two New World months, all by themselves."
"All right," Dave Ramsey said. "You have a point. What do you propose we do about it?"
"You must go down to Yule Point first thing tomorrow, and go through the whole rigmarole of pretending to launch from there. When my recruits arrive in the New World and find half a dozen people present, they just might believe everything's been built in nine weeks."
Dave Ramsey was silent for a while, and Harold had the disagreeable impression - for the third or fourth time that day! - that his old friend was hiding something from him.
"Well?" he said.
"You're right, in principle," Dave said. "But couldn't you try and postpone things? Tell those youngsters you've recruited that they'll have to wait another week."
"I can't. They're on fire, they want to get going yesterday. I had to twist myself in knots explaining that ten naked, bewildered people arriving in a new world would mean a lot of discomfort, and that it was much better if I and Gladys went alone first to reconnoiter the area, and set up things. They've all been out of work for two months. They have no money and no food. They're desperate."
"Fine. What do you propose we do now?"
"You go and break the news to Sean. And I'll have a quick look at our settlement. I'll try to view it as if I had just arrived for the first time. Could you tell Gladys to wake me up in half an hour? I don't need a lot of time there."
"All right," said Dave Ramsey, and yet again Harold had the impression that something was being left unsaid.
He thought about it while he made his way to his bedroom, and laid the silvery mat out on his bed. Dave was acting strangely, no two words about it. He had been late at the town hall - nearly two hours late. That was out of character; Dave Ramsey took pride in being punctual.
Harold lay down on his hiber bed and was asleep instantly, as usual.
It was raining in the New World. It was raining so hard he instantly became concerned about their dwellings. They were constructed of wattle and dried mud, and the dried mud was quickly turning into wet mud. He examined the ceiling of the hut that belonged to him and Gladys and saw drops of water already beginning to form on its ceiling.
He went out. More wet mud, and water pooling in the circular courtyard around which they'd built their huts. The fireplace in its center had a designated keeper who made sure the fire didn't go out. At present, the designated keeper was New World Dave, and he was rushing around frantically trying to repair the gabled roof they'd built over the fireplace. He looked satanic in the clouds of steam rising from the flames.
The moment he'd entered his double in the New World, Harold was aware of what had been going on there. He knew that Gladys and Susan had gone off on a salt and mussel-gathering expedition, he knew that it had already been raining for a while. All thought of his life back on Earth disappeared; lately, his life on Earth was becoming an increasingly hazy memory whenever he was present in the New World. His New World life was assuming a constantly growing importance. At the rate things were progressing, soon it would feel much more important and more meaningful than the long life he'd already lived back on Earth.
Naturally he'd noticed that process, and he was worried. It all had begun as a fascinating hobby, no more than that. Within a few weeks, his whole schedule was organized around the time he personally spent in the New World. Just a few days earlier, he'd realized with a shock that whatever occurred in the New World meant much more to him than what happened in his REAL life, back home.
He thought about it. He did some counting, and found out that he's been living three full New World days for every one set in the reality of his home. No wonder his New World life was overtaking his old, his REAL life in importance! And then he remembered a conversation he'd had with Dave a long while earlier, soon after the Ramseys had made their retirement move to Port Douglas.
As often happens with older people, Harold had complained that the less time he had left, the more quickly it seemed to pass.
"When I was a kid, a year took forever," he'd told Dave. "I just couldn't wait to grow up. I wanted time to pass as quickly as possible. Now that I'm older, it would be nice if it slowed down. I've got one year less to live with every year that passes. But what happens is the exact opposite. Time seems to be constantly speeding up, a day goes by in a blink. When I was a kid, it took a small eternity."
"Yes," Dave had said with a laugh, "What can I say? Same here."
"Listen, mate. I think I've worked it out. It's the bloody routine that does that. Every day you do the same old things and they just don't have any meaning any more. I noticed that whenever I go somewhere and do new things, like on a holiday abroad, time instantly seems to stretch. A week like that feels like two or three. Then it's back home and back to the old routine and two or three weeks feel like one."
"That might play a part," Dave agreed. "But I think the real reason lies somewhere else."
"Oh? Enlighten me."
Dave smiled a sad smile before saying:
"It's age that does that. The number of years you've been alive. When you're five years old, a year equals a fifth of your entire life, or as much as half of your whole conscious life - newborn infants are completely blown away by the reality they've found themselves in. Total information overload, thousands of new circuits forming in their brains every hour - that's why they have such stupid eyes. There's absolutely no conscious, controlled thought going on."
"I think you're being a little cruel."
"I'm a doctor. You can't help but learn the facts of life when you're a doctor. They're as pretty as blood and guts and shit. Anyway, returning to time: when you're five years old, a year equals twenty percent of your whole life. When you're fifty, it's two percent. A tenfold difference. So time goes by ten times faster. That's all there is to it, really."
They'd had many good conversations like that. And now, Dave was hiding something. It wouldn't be something big and bad: Dave Ramsey was a proper bloke. But still -
Standing in the doorway of his New World hut, watching the New World Dave Ramsey dance around the fireplace, Harold had a brainwave.
Ever since the telepathic link between the two world had been destroyed, updating information involved a personal visit. The New World Dave Ramsey was exactly the same as good old Dave back on Earth. But he wouldn't know what went on in the old world, back on Earth, between Dave's visits.
Dave's last visit to the New World had taken place before Sean and his family arrived. At least that was what he'd told Harold. He said he would skip the New World on the morning of the first of March, just like Harold did, and join him outside the town hall before it opened for business. He would be there a little later, because of Sean's arrival - he had to tell the gang what they were allowed to eat, and so on. It had all sounded perfectly reasonable.
Harold followed through on his brainwave by throwing himself into action, helping Dave save the fire, and it was as if this was exactly the sacrifice needed to make the weather gods change their minds: it stopped raining. When they'd finished congratulating themselves - flames were happily dancing in the fireplace - Harold asked:
"So tell me, how did you like dealing with our Mr. Rizzo? Henry was right about not having to worry about his security. Those two gorillas he had with him were carrying Armalite rifles."
Dave laughed.
"Did you see his face when he was counting the money?" he asked. "He was salivating like a dog over a steak. But never mind him now. Can you help me get some fresh cover for that roof? It's in bad shape."
"Lead the way," Harold said. He wanted Dave to lead the way so that his friend wouldn't see his bitter smile as he thought about what he'd just heard.
What he'd heard told him his old friend had lied to him. He'd secretly visited the New World earlier that day. That was how the New World Dave knew about Rizzo. That was why Old World Dave had been late to join Harold at the town hall.
It was a small lie, an innocent lie. But now that Harold knew that it was a lie, he started wondering about other things Dave had said.
A small lie is often the pebble that starts an avalanche.
As he followed Dave into the forest, his eyes were very thoughtfully fixed on his friend.
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