Twin Earth

Leaning against the wall in the foyer of a tiny run down hostel I had found, I lifted the outdated and dented telephone and dialled my father’s mobile number. I didn’t really have a clue where he would be, considering the last time I had spoken to him was just before I had started out on this horrendous mission. Sighing, I waited as the foreign phone tried to connect my call, but I was quickly greeted with an automatic voice explaining in Japanese that it had been disconnected.

‘Odd,’ I thought, trying again just to be sure I had dialled the correct number. My father was a creature of habit and had had his phone since before I could remember. Confused, I pressed the end call button and dialled my office in Swindon instead. It was the only other number I knew off by heart. I hoped that at least someone there would answer.

“Hello?” a familiar voice crackled over the phone.

“Hello? James? Is that you?” I replied quickly, leaning in closer and covering my mouth from any outside ears.

“Who is this?” James replied with a hint of impatience. I was surprised to hear him sound so different. He was usually so playful and sarcastic and I hadn’t realised how much I had missed his good humour. It was odd to hear him sounding so annoyed.

“It’s Tom,” I replied, wondering how much had changed since I had left, but I was met with silence. “James? Are you there?”

“Tom? Is that really you?” James finally asked, his voice turning to a more inquisitive tone. “Where are you?”

“I’m in Peru. So much has happened I don’t know where…” I replied, but I was interrupted.

“Wait, you’re where?”

“I’m in Puno in South America. I, how do I put this, landed here?” I tried. I really didn’t know how to explain any of what had happened over the last few days. There was so much to talk about, to study, to try and comprehend. “How is everyone? Is my father okay? I couldn’t get through to him when I called.” I was surprised to hear James sigh heavily and for a while he didn’t reply. “What is it?” I asked desperately.

“This is impossible,” James whispered more to himself. Confused, I continued to ask about my father. “Look Tom, you need to get back to London. I’ll explain everything when you’re here. Head to the embassy in Lima and I’ll arrange transport home. Things have… changed since you left. None of us expected you to come back after the explosion. We just assumed you and Rachel had perished along with Magnus Ferguson. There was even a memorial service.”

“Magnus?”

“I’ll transfer you some money. Just head to the embassy and we can go through everything when you get back. There’s too much to explain over the phone,” James quipped.

“But is everything okay?” I asked nervously.

“I’m glad you’re alive Tom,” James continued, ignoring my question then pausing slightly before hanging up. Staring at the phone, I slowly replaced the receiver in the dilapidated phone booth and stood there, unsure of how to process what James had just said.

‘A memorial?’ I asked myself in shock. ‘What was this explosion and why a memorial for Magnus too?’

Confused, I nodded to the man behind the reception desk who briefly looked my way before returning to his porn magazine and cigarette and made my way out the door and back onto the street. It was late now, probably around six in the evening and hoping a nearby money transfer office was still open I turned left and jogged quickly towards it.

‘He must have meant when I entered the sphere,’ I thought. ‘Maybe it looked to them like some kind of explosion, but how does he not know about the invasion of Mochuvia? This is weird.’

I gratefully thanked the woman issuing me an unusually huge wad of cash and hurried to a nearby taxi rank.

“I need to get to Lima?” I shouted to the cab driver in the hope he knew what I was saying. Any British etiquette this situation warranted was out of the window in my opinion. I was tired, hungry and keen to get home and Lima was miles away.

“Two thousand dollar,” the man grunted with a glint in his eye.

“Two thousand?” I exclaimed in surprise.

“It take whole day, I stop for food, no?” the man replied in broken English.

‘You saw me coming,’ I moaned silently, finally nodding and getting in the back of the car without even a haggle. I was too confused to be concerned about being swindled on cab fares.

Watching the town lights of Puno dwindle, we headed out into the desert and into the dark. I was grateful for a chance to finally close my eyes. Even the crackle of whatever radio station the driver was listening to didn’t bother me. It was comforting to hear such normal human sounds again. Something that would have irritated me greatly before. My thoughts ran to wondering not just about what James had said and the whereabouts of my father, but also what had happened to Rachel and the others on Mochuvia.

‘Did James and my father even know about Mochuvia?’ I wondered. ’Would they even believe me when I told them?’

Before long, the rumble of the road gently lulled me to sleep and I finally awoke hours later to a very hungry stomach and the bright afternoon sun of Lima in Western Peru, but not the Lima I remembered from my youthful travels many years ago. No, this Lima was virtually in ruin. It still had its tall skyscrapers and fancy hotels, but there was rubbish everywhere, with broken walls, cracked roads and seemingly a lot of homeless people.

“What the hell happened here?” I asked the driver as I pulled myself out of my slumber and leaned towards him.

Laughing, the driver turned to me and said, “You live under rock?” he grinned.

“I guess I have,” I mumbled, more to myself than anyone.

Paying the ridiculous fare with just as equally ridiculous huge dollar bills, which to me just felt like monopoly money now with everything I had been through, I climbed out and let the driver go.

Crossing the road through the chaos of mopeds, cars and trucks, I meandered down the ruined streets, stepping over debris and broken blocks of cement, mixed in between loose wires and endless rubbish. I was somewhat comforted by the fact that everyone seemed to still be going about their business as if this was the new norm for them and I realised that an attempt had been made to clear the mess with occasional piles of rubbish dotting the road side, but as I reached the beach I almost choked on the extent of the damage along the coast. I remembered Lima sitting on a slight cliff edge, which used to drop down to a beautiful long beach. It even had a pier with cute wooden huts selling various tourist trinkets, which reminded me of Brighton back home, but now everything lay in ruin. In fact the pier had gone. Only its support pillars stood in the turquoise sea, rusting and warped from whatever had happened. Even the cliffs had collapsed in places, with buildings that had once proudly boasted sea views lying in ruin at the bottom.

“Tsunami,” I whispered into the air as I realised I had seen this image before. ‘Had I been in Lima when viewing Earth from Mochuvia?’ I wondered, thinking back to the incredible viewing lounge technology I had so innocently been excited about a few days ago.

Breathing heavily I turned and headed back into the city, or what was left of it and hoped that the embassy still existed.