“But Louis Wu had gone alone, jumping in front of the midnight line, strongly continued by the new day” … Ringworld of Larry Niven
Tithi Luadthong / Alamy
In the night heart of Beirut, in a row of general address transfer stands, Louis Wu has entered reality.
His foot length queue was as white and shiny as artificial snow. Its skin and its scalp depilted were chromed yellow; The iris of his eyes were gold; Her dress was Blue Royal with a superimposed golden sterroptic dragon. As he appeared, he smiled widely, showing pearly teeth, perfect and perfectly standard. Smiling and waving. But the smile has already discolored, and in a moment he had disappeared, and the disc of his face was like a melted rubber mask. Louis Wu showed his age.
For a few moments, he watched Beirut spread before him: people rush into the stands of unknown places; The crowd flowing in front of him on foot, now that the slidewalks had been extinguished for the night. Then the clocks began to strike twenty-three. Louis Wu straightened his shoulders and went out to join the world.
In Resht, where his party was still full, it was already in the morning after his birthday. Here in Beirut, it was an hour earlier. In a sweet outdoor restaurant, Louis bought Raki rounds and encouraged the song of songs in Arabic and Linterworld. He left before midnight for Budapest.
Had they still realized that he was released for his own party? They would assume that a woman had been with him that he would be back in a few hours. But Louis Wu had gone alone, jumping in front of the midnight line, strongly continued by the new day. Twenty-four hours were not long enough for the two hundredth anniversary of a man.
They could get along without him. Louis' friends could take care of themselves. In this regard, Louis' standards were inflexible.
In Budapest, there were wine and athletic dances, natives who tolerated him as a tourist with money, tourists who thought he was a rich native. He danced the dances and dried the wines, and he left before midnight.
In Munich, he walked.
The air was hot and clean; He cleaned some of the smoke in his head. He traveled the slidewalks brilliantly lit, adding his own pace at their speed of ten miles per hour. He then came to mind that each city in the world had sliding bites and that they all moved to ten miles per hour.
Thought was intolerable. Not new; Just intolerable. Louis Wu saw how much Beirut looked like Munich and Resht
… And San Francisco and Topeka and London and Amsterdam. The stores along the Slidewalks have sold the same products in all the cities of the world. These citizens who exceeded her tonight were alike, dressed in the same way. Not the Americans or the Germans or the Egyptians, but simple flatlanders.
In three and a half centuries, the transfer cabins have done so to the infinite variety of the earth. They covered the world in a net of instant travel. The difference between Moskva and Sydney was a moment of time and a tenth star piece. Inevitably, the cities have mixed over the centuries, until the names of places were only relics of the past.
San Francisco and San Diego were the ends of the north and south of a sprawling coastal city. But how many people knew what end was which one? Tanj little, these days.
Pessimistic thought, for two hundredth anniversary of a man.
But the mixture of cities was real. Louis had seen this happen. All the irrationalities of the place, time and custom, melting into a great rationality of the city, all over the world, like a dull gray paste. Has anyone now spoke Deutsch, English, French, Espafiol? Everyone talked about Linterworld. The style of body paintings has changed at the same time, all over the world, in a monstrous rise. Is it time for another sabbatical leave? In the unknown, alone in a single, with his skin and eyes and hair their own color, a beard pushing at random on his face …
“Nuts”, says Louis. “I have just returned from a sabbatical leave.” Twenty years ago.
But he wore around midnight. Louis Wu found a transfer stand, inserted his credit card into the slit and composed Seville.
He emerged in a sunny room.
This extract is reproduced with the permission of Ringworld By Larry Niven, published by Gollancz. This novel is the latest choice for the New Scientist Book Club. Register and read with us here.
