by
Terry Pratchett (1989)
version 1.0
Nomes are small. On the whole, small creatures donât live for a long time. But perhaps they do live fast.
Let me explain.
One of the shortest-lived creatures on the planet Earth is the adult common mayfly. It lasts for one day. The longest- living things are bristlecone pine trees, at 4,700 years and still counting.
This may seem tough on mayflies. But the important thing is not how long your life is, but how long it seems.
To a mayfly, a single hour May last as long as a century. Perhaps old mayflies sit around complaining about how life this minute isnât a patch on the good old. minutes of long ago, when the world was young and the sun seemed so much brighter and larvae showed you a bit of respect. Whereas the trees, which are not famous for their quick reactions, may just have time to notice the way the sky keeps flickering before the dry rot and woodworm set in.
Itâs all a sort of relativity. The faster you live, the more time stretches out. To a nome, a year lasts as long as ten years does to a human Remember it Donât let it concern you They donât. They donât even know.
In the beginning...
i. &nbs p; There was the Site.
ii. &nbs p; And Arnold Bros (est. 1905) Moved upon the face of the Site, and Saw that it had Potential.
iii. &nbs p; For it was In the High Street.
iv. &nbs p; Yea, it was also Handy for the Buses.
v. &nbs p; And Arnold Bros (est. 1905) said, Let there be a Store, And Let it be a Store such as the World has not Seen hitherto;
vi. &nbs p; Let the length of it be from Palmer Street even unto the Fish Market, and the Width of It, from the High Street right back to Disraeli Road;
vii. &nbs p; Let it be High even Unto Five Storeys plus Basement, And bright with Lifts; let there be the EterÐnal Fires of the Boiler-Room in the sub-basement and, above all other floors, let there be Customer Accounts to Order All Things;
viii. &nbs p; For this must be what all shall Know of Arnold Bros (est. 1905): All Things Under One Roof. And it shall be called: the Store of Arnold Bros (est. 1905).
ix. &nbs p; And Thus it Was.
x. &nbs p; And Arnold Bros (est. 1905) divided the Store into Departments, of Ironmongery, Corsetry, Modes and others After their Kind, and Created Humans to fill them with All Things saying, Yea, All Things Are Here. AndÊ Arnold Bros (est. 1905) said, Let there be Lorries, and Let their Colours be Red and Gold, and Let them. Go Forth so that All May Know Arnold Bros (est. 1905), By Appointment, delivers All Things;
xi. &nbs p; Let there be Santaâs Grottoes and Winter SalesÊ and Summer Bargains and Back to School Week and AU Commodities in their Season;
xii. &nbs p; And into the Store came the Nomes, that it would be their Place, for Ever and Ever.
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ From The Book of Nome, Basements VI-XII
This is the story of the Going Home. This is the story of the Critical Path.
This is the story of the lorry roaring through the sleeping city and out into the country lanes, smashing through street lamps and swinging from side to side and shattering shop windows and rollÐing to a halt when the police chased it. And when the baffled men went back to their car to report Listen, will you, listen? There isnât anyone driving it!, it became the story of the lorry that started up again, rolled away from the astonished men, and vanished into the night.
But the story didnât end there.
It didnât start there, either.
The sky rained dismal. It rained humdrum. It rained the kind of rain that is so much wetter than normal rain, the kind of rain that comes down in big drops and splats, the kind of rain that is merely an upright sea with slots in it.
It rained a tattoo on the old hamburger boxes and chip papers in the wire basket that was giving Masklin a temporary hiding place.
Look at him. Wet. Cold. Extremely worried. And four inches high.
The waste-bin was usually a good hunting ground, even in winter. There were often a few cold chips in their wrapping, sometimes even a chicken bone. Once or twice there had been a rat, too. It had been a really good day when there had last been a rat ÷ it had kept them going for a week. The trouble was that you could get pretty fed up with rat by the third day. By the third mouthful, come to that.
Masklin scanned the lorry park.
And here it came, right on time, crashing through the puddles and pulling up with a hiss of brakes.
Heâd watched this lorry arrive every Tuesday and Thursday morning for the last four weeks. He timed the driverâs stop carefully.
They had exactly three minutes. To someone the size of a nome, thatâs more than half an hour.
He scrambled down through the greasy paper, dropped out of the bottom of the bin, and ran for the bushes at the edge of the park where Grimma and the old folk were waiting.
ÎItâs here!â he said. ÎCome on!â
They got to their feet, groaning and grumbling. Heâd taken them through this dozens of times. He knew it wasnât any good shouting. They just got upset and confused, and then theyâd grumble some more. They grumbled about cold chips, even when Grimma warmed them up. They moaned about rat. Heâd seriously thought about leaving alone, but he couldnât bring himself to do it. They needed him. They needed someone to grumble at.
But they were too slow. He felt like bursting into tears.
He turned to Grimma instead.
ÎCome on,â he said. ÎGive them a prod, or someÐthing. Theyâll never get moving!â
She patted his hand.
ÎTheyâre frightened,â she said. ÎYou go on. Iâll bring them out.â
There wasnât time to argue. Masklin ran back across the soaking mud of the park, unslinging the rope and grapnel. It had taken him a week to make the hook, out of a bit of wire teased off a fence, and heâd spent days practicing; he was already swinging it around his head as he reached the lorryâs wheel.
The hook caught the tarpaulin high above him at the second try. He tested it once or twice and then, his feet scrabbling for a grip on the tire, pulled himself up.
Heâd done it before. Oh, heâd done it three or four times. He scrambled under the heavy tarpaulin and into the darkness beyond, pulling out more line and tying it as tightly as possible around one of the ropes that were as thick as his arm.
Then he slid back to the edge and, thank goodÐness, Grimma was herding the old people across the gravel. He could hear them complaining about the puddles.
Masklin jumped up and down with impatience. It seemed to take hours. He explained it to them millions of times, but people hadnât been pulled up on to the backs of lorries when they were children and they didnât see why they should start now. Old Granny Morkie insisted that all the men look the other way so that they wouldnât see up her skirts, for example, and old Torrit whimpered so much that Masklin had to lower him again so that Grimma could blindfold him. It wasnât so bad after heâd hauled the first few up, because they were able to help on the rope, but time still stretched out.
He pulled Grimma up last. She was light. They were all light, if it came to that. You didnât get rat every day.
It was amazing. They were all on board. Heâd worked with an ear cocked for the sound of footÐsteps on gravel and the slamming of the driverâs door, and it hadnât happened.
ÎRight,â he said, shaking with the effort. ÎThatâs it, then. Now if we just go÷â
ÎI dropped the Thing,â said old Torrit. ÎThe Thing. I dropped It, dâyou see? I dropped it down by the wheel when she was blindfoldinâ me. You go and get it, boy.â
Masklin looked at him in horror. Then he poked his head out from under the tarpaulin and, yes, there it was, far below. A tiny black cube on the ground.
The Thing.
It was lying in a puddle, although that wouldnât affect it. Nothing touched the Thing. It wouldnât even burn.
And then he heard the sound of slow footsteps on the gravel.
ÎThereâs no time,â he whispered. ÎThere really is no time.â
ÎWe canât go without it,â said Grimma. ÎOf course we can. Itâs just a, a thing. We wonât need the wretched object where weâre going.â
He felt guilty as soon as heâd said it, amazed at his own lips for uttering such words. Grimma looked horrified. Granny Morkie drew herself up to her full, quivering height.
ÎMay you be forgiven!â she barked. ÎWhat a terrible thing to say! You tell him, Torrit.â She nudged Torrit in the ribs.
ÎIf we ainât taking the Thing, I ainât going,â said Torrit sulkily. ÎItâs not÷â
ÎThatâs your leader talkinâ to you,â interrupted Granny Morkie. ÎSo you do what youâre told. Leave it behind, indeed! It wouldnât be decent. It wouldnât be right. So you go and get it, this minute.â
Masklin stared wordlessly down at the soaking mud and then, with a desperate motion, threw the line over the edge and slid down it.
It was raining harder now, with a touch of sleet. The wind whipped at him as he dropped past the great arc of the wheel and landed heavily in the puddle. He reached out and scooped up the Thing÷ And the lorry started to move.
First there was a roar, so loud that it went beyond sound and became a solid wall of noise. Then there was a blast of stinking air and a vibration that shook the ground.
He pulled sharply on the line and yelled at them to pull him up, and realized that even he couldnât hear his own voice. But Grimma or someone must have got the idea because, just as the big wheel began to turn, the rope tightened and he felt his feet lifted off the mud.
He bounced and spun back and forth as, with painful slowness, they pulled him past the wheel. It turned only a few inches away from him, a black, chilly blur, and all the time the hammering sound battered at his head.
Iâm not scared, he told himself. This is much worse than anything Iâve ever faced, and itâs not frightening. Itâs too terrible to be frightening.
He felt as though he was in a tiny, warm cocoon, away from all the noise and the wind. Iâm going to die, he thought, just because of this Thing which has never helped us at all, something thatâs just a lump of stuff, and now Iâm going to die and go to the Heavens. I wonder if old Torrit is right about what happens when you die? It seems a bit severe to have to die to find out. Iâve looked at the sky every night for years and Iâve never seen any nomes up there...
But it didnât really matter, it was all outside him, it wasnât real÷ Hands reached down and caught him under the arms and dragged him into the booming space under the tarpaulin and, with some difficulty, prised the Thing out of his grip.
Behind the speeding lorry fresh curtains of grey rain dragged across the empty fields.
And, across the whole country, there were no more nomes.
There had been plenty of them, in the days when it didnât seem to rain so much. Masklin could remember at least forty. But then the motorway had come; the stream was put in pipes underÐground, and the nearest hedges were grubbed up. Nomes had always lived in the corners of the world, and suddenly there werenât too many corners any more.
The numbers started going down. A lot of this was due to natural causes, and when youâre four inches high natural causes can be anything with teeth and speed and hunger. Then Pyrrince, who was by way of being the most adventurous, led a desperate expedition across the carriageway one night, to investigate the woods on the other side. They never came back. Some said it was hawks, some said it was a lorry. Some even said theyâd made it halfway and were marooned on the cenÐtral reservation between endless swishing lines of cars.
Then the cafe had been built, a little further along the road. It had been a sort of improvement. It depended how you looked at it. If cold leftover chips and scraps of grey chicken were food, then there was suddenly enough for everyone.
And then it was spring, and Masklin looked around and found that there were just ten of them left, and eight of those were too old to get about much. Old Torrit was nearly ten.
It had been a dreadful summer. Grimma organÐized those who could still get about into midnight raids on the litter-bins, and Masklin tried to hunt.
Hunting by yourself was like dying a bit at a time. Most of the things you were hunting were also hunting you. And even if you were lucky and made a kill, how did you get it home? It had taken two days with the rat, including sitting out at night to fight off other creatures. Ten strong hunters could do anything ÷ rob beesâ nests, trap mice, catch moles, anything but one hunter by himself, with no one to watch his back in the long grass, was simply the next meal for everything with talons and claws.
To get enough to eat, you needed lots of healthy hunters. But to get lots of healthy hunters, you needed enough to eat.
ÎItâll be all right in the autumn,â said Grimma, bandaging his arm where a stoat had caught it. ÎThereâll be mushrooms and berries and nuts and everything.â
Well, there hadnât been any mushrooms and it rained so much that most of the berries rotted before they ripened. There were plenty of nuts, though. The nearest hazel tree was half a dayâs journey away. Masklin could carry a dozen nuts if he smashed them out of their shells and dragged them back in a paper bag from the bin. It took a whole day to do it, risking hawks all the way, and it was just enough food for a day as well.
And then the back of the burrow fell in, because of all the rain. It was almost pleasant to get out, then. It was better than listening to the grumbling about him not doing essential repairs. Oh, and there was the fire. You needed a fire at the burrow mouth, both for cooking and for keepÐing away night prowlers. Granny Morkie went to sleep one day and let it go out. Even she had the decency to be embarrassed.
When Masklin came back that night he looked at the heap of dead ashes for a long time and then stuck his spear in the ground and burst out laughing, and went on laughing until he started to cry. He couldnât face the rest of them. He had to go and sit outside where, presently, Grimma brought him a shellful of nettle tea. Cold nettle tea.
ÎTheyâre all very upset about it,â she volunÐteered.
Masklin gave a hollow laugh. ÎOh, yes, I can tell,â he said, ÎIâve heard them ãYou ought to bring back another fag-end, boy, Iâm right out of tobacÐco,ä and ãWe never have fish these days, you might find the time to go down to the river,ä and ãSelf, self, self, thatâs all you young people think about, in my day÷ä
Grimma sighed. ÎThey do their best,â she said. ÎItâs just that they donât realize. There were hunÐdreds of us when they were young.â
ÎItâs going to take days to get that fire lit,â said Masklin. They had a spectacle lens; it needed a very sunny day to work.
He poked aimlessly in the mud by his feet.
ÊÎIâve had enough,â he said quietly, ÎIâm going to leave.!
ÎBut we need you!â
ÎI need me, too. I mean, what kind of life is this?â
ÎBut theyâll die if you go away!â
ÎTheyâll die anyway,â said Masklin.
ÎThatâs a wicked thing to say!â
ÎWell, itâs true. Everyone dies anyway. Weâll die anyway. Look at you. You spend your whole time washing and tidying up and cooking and chasing after them. Youâre nearly three! Itâs about time you had a life of your own.â
ÎGranny Morkie was very kind to me when I was small,â said Grimma defensively. ÎYouâll be old one day.â
ÎYou think? And who will be working their fingers to the bone to look after me?â
Masklin found himself getting angrier and angrier. He was certain he was in the right. But it felt as if he was in the wrong, which made it worse.
Heâd thought about this for a long time, and it had always left him feeling angry and awkward. All the clever ones and the bold ones and the brave ones had gone long ago, one way or the other. Good old Masklin, theyâd said, stout chap, you look after the old folk and weâll be back before you know it, just as soon as weâve found a better place. Every time good old Masklin thought about this he got indignant with them for going and with himself for staying. He always gave in, that was his trouble. He knew it. Whatever he promised himÐ self at the start, he always took the way of least resistance.
Grimma was glaring at him.
He shrugged.â
ÎAll right, all right, so they can come with us,â he said.
ÎYou know they wonât go,â she said. ÎTheyâre too old. They all grew up round here. They like it here.â
ÎThey like it here when thereâs us around to wait on them,â muttered Masklin.
They left it at that. There were nuts for dinner. Masklinâs had a maggot in it.
He went out afterwards and sat at the top of the bank with his chin in his hands, watching the motorway again.
It was a stream of red and white lights. There were humans inside those boxes, going about whatever mysterious business humans spent their time on. They were always in a hurry to get to it, whatever it was.
He was prepared to bet they didnât eat rat. Humans had it really easy. They were big and slow, but they didnât have to live in damp burrows waiting for daft old women to let the fire go out. They never had maggots in their tea. They went wherever they wanted and they did whatever they liked. The whole world belonged to them.
And all night long they drove up and down in these little lorries with lights on. Didnât they ever go to sleep? There must be hundreds of them.
Heâd dreamt of leaving on a lorry. They often stopped at the cafe. It would be easy.÷ well, fairly easy ÷to find a way on to one. They were clean and shiny, they had to go somewhere better than this. And after all, what was the alternative? Theyâd never see winter through; here, and setting out across the fields with the bad weather coming on didnât bear thinking about.
Of course, heâd never do it. You never actually did it, in the end. You just dreamed about following those swishing lights.
And above the rushing lights, the stars. Torrit said the stars were very important. Right at the moment, Masklin didnât agree. You couldnât eat them. They werenât even much good for seeing by. The stars were pretty useless, when you thought about it...
Somebody screamed.
Masklinâs body got to his feet almost before his mind had even thought about it, and sped silently through the scrubby bushes towards the burrow.
Where, its head entirely underground and its brush waving excitedly at the stars, was a dog fox. He recognized it. Heâd had a couple of close shaves with it in the past.
Somewhere inside Masklinâs head, the bit of him that was really him ÷ old Torrit had a lot to say about this bit was horrified to see him snatch up his spear, which was still in the ground where he had plunged it, and stab the fox as hard as he could in a hind leg.
There was a muffled yelp and the animal struggled backwards, turning an evil, foaming
mask to its tormentor. Two bright yellow eyes focused on Masklin, who leaned panting on his spear. This was one of those times when time
Êitself slowed down and everything was sudÐdenly more real. Perhaps, if you knew you were going to die, your senses crammed in as much detail as they could while they still had the chance...
There were flecks of blood around the creatureâs muzzle.
Masklin felt himself become angry. It welled up inside him, like a huge bubble He didnât-have much, and this grinning thing was taking even that away from him.
As the red tongue lolled out, he knew that he had two choices. He could run, or he could die.Ê So he attacked instead. The spear soared from his hand like a bird, catching the fox in the lip. It screamed and pawed at the wound, and Masklin was running, running across the dirt, propelled by the engine of his anger, and then jumping and grabbing handfuls of rank red fur and hauling himÐself up the foxâs flank to land astride its neck and drawing his stone knife and stabbing, stabbing, at everything that was wrong with the world...
The fox screamed again and leapt away. If he was capable of thinking then Masklin would have known that his knife wasnât doing much more than annoying the creature, but it wasnât used to meals fighting back with such fury and its only thought now was to get away. It breasted the embankment and rushed headlong down it, towards the lights of the motorway.
Masklin started to think again. The rushing of the traffic filled his ears. He let go and threw himself into the long grass as the creature galloped out on to the asphalt.
He landed heavily and rolled over, all the breath knocked out of him.
But he remembered what happened next. It stayed in his memory for a long time, long after
heâd seen so many strange things that there really should have been no room for it.
The fox, as still as a statue in a headlightâs beam, snarled its defiance as it tried to outstare ten tons of metal hurtling towards it at seventy miles an hour.
There was a bump, a swish, and darkness.
Masklin lay face down in the cool moss for a long time. Then, dreading what he was about to see, trying not to imagine it, he pulled himself to his feet and plodded back towards whatever was left of his home.
Grimma was waiting at the burrowâs mouth, holding a twig like a club. She spun round and nearly brained Masklin as he staggered out of the darkness and leaned against the bank. He stuck out a weary hand and pushed the stick aside.
ÎWe didnât know where youâd gone,â she said, her voice on the edge of hysteria. ÎWe just heard the noise and there it was you should have been here and it got Mr Mert and Mrs Coom and it was digÐging at the÷â
She stopped, and seemed to sag.
ÎYes, thank you,â said Masklin coldly, ÎIâm all right, thank you very much.â
ÎWhat what happened?â
He ignored her, and trooped into the darkness of the burrow and lay down. He could hear the old ones whispering as he sank into a deep, chilly sleep.
I should have been here, he thought.
They depend on me.
Weâre going. All of us.
It had seemed a good idea, then.
It looked a bit different, now.
Now the nomes clustered at one end of the great dark space inside the lorry. They were silent. There wasnât any room to be noisy. The roar of the engine filled the air from edge to edge. Sometimes it would falter, and start again. Occasionally the whole lorry lurched.
Grimma crawled across the trembling floor.
ÎHow long is it going to take to get there?â she said.
ÎWhere?â said Masklin.
ÎWherever weâre going.â
ÎI donât know.â
ÎTheyâre hungry, you see.â
They always were. Masklin looked hopelessly at the huddle of old ones. One or two of them were watching him expectantly.
ÎThere isnât anything I can do,â he said. ÎIâm hungry too, but thereâs nothing here. Itâs empty.â
ÎGranny Morkie gets very upset when sheâs missed a meal,â said Grimma.
Masklin gave her a long, blank stare. Then he crawled his way to the group and sat down between Torrit and the old woman.
Heâd never really talked to them, he realized. When he was small they were giants who were no concern of his, and then heâd been a hunter among hunters, and this year heâd either been out looking for food or deep in an exhausted sleep. But he knew why Torrit was the leader of the tribe. It stood to reason, he was the oldest nome. The oldest was always leader, that way there couldnât be any arguments. Not the oldest woman, of course, because everyone knew this was unthinkable; even Granny Morkie was quite firm about that. Which was a bit odd, because she treated him like an idiot and Torrit never made a decision without looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Masklin sighed. He stared at his knees.
ÎLook, I donât know how long÷â he began.
ÎDonât you worry about me, boy,â said Granny Morkie, who seemed to have quite recovered. ÎThis is all rather excitinâ, ainât it?â
ÎBut it might take ages,â said Masklin, ÎI didnât know it was going to take this long. It was just a mad idea...â
She poked him with a bony finger. ÎYoung man,â she said, ÎI was alive in the Great Winter of 1986. Terrible, that was. You canât tell me anything about going hungry. Grimmaâs a good girl, but she worries.â
ÎBut I donât even know where weâre going!â Masklin burst out. ÎIâm sorry!â
Torrit, who was sitting with the Thing on his skinny knees, peered shortsightedly at him.
We have the Thing,â he said. ÎIt will show us the Way, it will.â
Masklin nodded gloomily. Funny how Torrit always knew what the Thing wanted. It was just a black square thing, but it had some very defiÐnite ideas about the importance of regular meals and how you should always listen to what the old folk said. It seemed to have an answer for everyÐthing.
ÎAnd where does this Way take us?â said Masklin.
ÎYou knows that well enough. To the Heavens.â
ÎOh. Yes,â said Masklin. He glared at the Thing. He was pretty certain that it didnât tell old Torrit anything at all; he knew he had pretty good hearÐing, and he never heard it say anything. It never did anything, it never moved. The only thing it ever did was look black and square. It was good at that.
ÎOnly by followinâ the Thing closely in all parÐticulars can we be sure of going to the Heavens,â said Torrit, uncertainly, as if heâd been told this a long time ago and hadnât understood it even then.
ÎYes, well,â said Masklin. He stood up on the swaying floor and made his way to the tarpaulin.
Then he paused to screw up his courage and poked his head under the gap.
There- was nothing but blurs and lights,. and strange smells.
It was-all going wrong. It had seemed so sensible that night, a week ago. Anything was better than here. That seemed so obvious then. But it was odd. The old ones moaned like anything when things werenât exactly to their liking but now, when everything was looking bad, they were almost cheerful.
People were a lot more complicated than they looked. Perhaps the Thing could tell you that, too, if you knew how to ask.
The lorry turned a corner and rumbled down into blackness and then, without warning, stopped. He found himself looking into a huge lighted- space, full of lorries, full of humans...
He pulled his head back quickly and scuttled across the floor to Torrit.
ÎEr,â he said.
ÎYes, lad?â
ÎHeaven. Do humans go there?â
The old nome shook his head. ÎThe Heavens,â he said. ÎMore than one ofâem see? Only nomes go there.â
ÎYouâre absolutely certain?â
ÎOh, yes.â Torrit beamed. ÎOâcourse, they may have heavens of their own,â he said, ÎI donât know about that. But they ainât ours, you may depend upon it.â
ÎOh.â
Torrit stared at the Thing again.
Weâve stopped,â he said. ÎWhere are we?â
Masklin stared wearily into the darkness.
ÎI think I had better go and find out,â he said.
There was whistling outside, and the distant rumble of human voices. The lights went out. There was a rattling noise, followed by a click, and then silence.
After awhile there was a faint scrabbling around the back of one of the silent lorries. A length of line, no thicker than thread, dropped down until it touched the oily floor of the garage.
A minute went by. Then, lowering itself with great care hand overhand, a small, stumpy figure shinned down the line and dropped on to the floor. It stood rock-still for a few seconds after landing, with only its eyes moving.
It was not entirely human. There were defiÐnitely the right number of arms and legs, and
- the additional bits like eyes and so on were in the usual places, but the figure that was now creeping across the darkened floor in its mouseskins looked like a brick wall on legs. Nomes are so stocky that a Japanese Sumo wrestler would look half-starved by comparison, and the way this one moved sugÐgested that it was considerably tougher than old boots.
Masklin was, in fact, terrified out of his life. There was nothing here that he recognized, except for the smell of all, which he had come to associate with humans and especially with lorries (Torrit had told him loftily that all was a burning water that lorries drank, at which point Masklin knew the old nome had gone mad. It stood to reason. Water didnât burn).
None of it made any sense. Vast cans loomed above him. There were huge pieces of metal that had a made look about them. This was definitely apart of a human heaven. Humans liked metal.
He did skirt warily around a cigarette-end,
and made a mental note to take it back for Torrit.
There were other lorries in this place, all of them silent. It was, Masklin decided, a lorry nest. Which meant that the only food in it was probably all.
He untensed a bit, and prodded about under a bench that towered against one wall like a house. There were drifts of waste paper there, and, led by a smell which here was even stronger than all, he found a whole apple core. It was going brown, but it was a pretty good find.
He slung it across one shoulder and turned around.
There was a rat watching him thoughtfully. It was considerably bigger and sleeker than the things that fought the nomes for the scraps from the waste-bin. It dropped on all fours and trotted towards him.
Masklin felt that he was on firmer ground here. All these huge dark shapes and cans and ghastly smells were quite beyond him, but he knew what a rat was all right, and what to do about one.
He dropped the core, brought his spear back slowly and carefully, aimed at a point just between the creatureâs eyes.
Two things happened at once.
Masklin noticed that the rat had a little red collar.
And a voice said: ÎDonât! He took a long time to train. Bargains Galore! Where did you come from?â
The stranger was a nome. At least, Masklin had to assume so. He was certainly nome height, and moved like a nome.
But his clothes. .
The basic colour for a practical nomeâs clothes is mud. That was common sense. Grimma knew fifty ways of making dyes from wild plants and they all yielded a colour that was, when you came right down to it, basically muddy. Sometimes yelÐlow mud, sometimes brown mud, sometimes even greenish mud but still, well, mud. Because any nome who ventured out wearing jolly reds and blues would have a life expectancy of perhaps half an hour before something digestive happened to him.
Whereas this nome looked like a rainbow. He wore brightly coloured clothes of a material so fine it looked like chip wrapping, a belt studded with bits of glass, proper leather boots, and a hat with a feather in it. As he talked he slapped his leg idly with a leather strap which, it turned out, was the lead for the rat.
ÎWell?â he snapped. ÎAnswer me!â
ÎI came off the lorry,â said Masklin shortly, eyeing the rat. It stopped scratching its ears, gave him a look, and went and hid behind its master.
ÎWhat were you doing on there? Answer me!â
Masklin pulled himself up. ÎWe were travelling,â he said.
The nome glared at him. ÎWhatâs travelling?â he snapped.
ÎMoving along,â said Masklin. ÎYou know? ComÐing from one place and going to another place.â
This seemed to have a strange effect on the stranger. If it didnât actually make him polite, at least it took the edge off his tone.
ÎAre you trying to tell me you came from OutÐside?â he said.
ÎThatâs right.â
ÎBut thatâs impossible!â
ÎIs it?â Masklin looked worried.
ÎThereâs nothing Outside!â
ÎIs there? Sorry,â said Masklin. ÎBut we seem to have come in from it, anyway. Is this a problem?
ÎYou mean really Outside?â said the nome sidling closer.
ÎI suppose I do. We never really thought about it Whatâs this p1÷â
ÎWhatâs it like?â
ÎWhat?â
ÎOutside! Whatâs it like?â
Masklin looked blank. Well,â he said. ÎItâs sort of big÷â
ÎYes?â
ÎAnd, er, thereâs a lot of it÷â
ÎYes? Yes?â
ÎWith, you know, things in it÷â
ÎIs it true the ceiling is so high you canât see it?â said the nome, apparently beside himself with excitement.
ÎDonât know. Whatâs a ceiling?â said Masklin.
ÎThat is,â said the nome, pointing up to a gloom. roof of girders and shadows.
ÎOh, I havenât seen anything like that,â said Masklin. ÎOutside itâs blue or grey, with white things floating around in it.â
ÎAnd, and, the walls are such a long way off, and thereâs a sort of green carpet thing that grows on the ground?â said the nome, hopping from one foot to the other.
ÎDonât know,â said Masklin, even more mystified ÎWhatâs a carpet?â
Wow!â The nome got a grip on himself and e tended a shaking hand. ÎMy nameâs Angalo,â he said. ÎAngalo de Haberdasheri. Haha. Of course that wonât mean anything to you! And this is Bobo.â
The rat appeared to grin. Masklin had never heard a rat called anything, except perhaps, if you were driven to it, Îdinnerâ.
ÎIâm Masklin,â he said. ÎIs it all right if the rest of us come down? It was a long journey.â
ÎGosh, yes! All from Outside? My fatherâll never believe it!â
ÎIâm. sorry,â said Masklin. ÎI donât understand. Whatâs so special? We were outside. Now weâre inside.â
Angalo ignored him. He was staring at the othÐers as they came stiffly down the line, grumbling.
ÎOld people, too!â said Angalo. ÎAnd they look just like us! Not even pointy heads or anything!â
ÎSauce!â said Granny Morkie. Angalo stopped grinning.
ÎMadam,â he said icily, Îdo you know who youâre talking to?â
ÎSomeone whoâs not too old for a smacked botÐtom,â said Granny Morkie. ÎIf I looked just like you, my lad, Iâd look a great deal better. Pointy heads, indeed!â
Angaloâs mouth opened and shut silently. Then he said: ÎItâs amazing! I mean, Dorcas said that even if there was a possibility of life outside the Store, it wouldnât be life as we know it! Please, please, all follow me.â
ÊThey exchanged glances as Angalo scurried away towards the edge of the lorry nest, but followed him anyway. There wasnât much of an alternative.
ÎI remember when your old dad stayed out tooÊ in the sun one day. He talked rubbish, too, just like this one,â said Granny Morkie quietly.Ê Torrit appeared to be reaching a conclusion. They waited for it politely.
ÎI reckon,â he said at last, ÎI reckon we ought to eat his rat.â
ÎYou shut up, you,â said Granny, automatically. ÎIâm leader, I am. Youâve got no right, talking like that to a leader,â Torrit whined.
ÎOâcourse youâre leader,â snapped Granny MorÐkie ÎWho said you werenât leader? I never said you. werenât leader. Youâre leader.â
ÎRight,â sniffed Torrit.
ÎAnd now shut up,â said Granny. Masklin tapped Angalo on the shoulder. ÎWhere is this place?â he said.
Angalo stopped by the wall, which towered up into the distance.
ÎYou donât know?â he said.
We just thought, well, we just hoped that the lorries went to ÷ to a good place to be,â said Grimma.
ÎWell, you heard right,â said Angalo proudly. ÎThis is the best place to be. This is the Store!â
xiii. And in the Store there was neither Night nor Day, only Opening Time and Closing Time. Rain fell not, neither was there Snow.
xiv. And the nomes grew fat and multiplied as the years passed, and spent their time in Rivalry and Small War, Department unto Department, and forgot all they knew of the Outside.
xv. For they said, Is it not so, Arnold Bros (est. 1905) has put All Things Under One Roofâ?
xvi. And those who said, Perhaps Not All Things, were cruelly laughed at, and prodded.
xvii. And other nomes said, Even if there were an Outside, What can it hold that we would need? For here we have the power of the Electric, the Food Hall, and All manner of Diversions.
xviii. And thus the Seasons fell thicker than the cushions that are in Soft Furnishings (3rd Floor).
xix. Until a Stranger came from afar, crying out in a loud voice, and he cried, woe, woe.
From The Book of Nome, First Floor v.XII-XIX
They tripped over one another, they walked with their heads turned upward and their mouths open they gawked. Angalo had stopped by a hole in the wall, and waved them through hurriedly.
ÎIn here,â he said.
Granny Morkie sniffed.
ÎThatâs a rat hole,â she said. ÎYouâre not asking me to go down a rat hole?â She turned to Torrit ÎHeâs asking me to go down a rat hole! Iâm not going down a rat hole!â
ÎWhy not?â said Angalo..
ÎItâs a rat hole!â
ÎThatâs just what it looks like,â said Angalo. ÎItâ a disguised entrance, thatâs all.â
ÎYour rat just went through it,â said Granny Morkie triumphantly. ÎIâve got eyes. Itâs a rat hole.â
Angalo gave Grimma a pleading look and ducked through the hole. She poked her head through after him.
ÎI donât think itâs a rat hole, Granny,â she said, in a slightly muffled voice.
ÎAnd why is that, pray?â
ÎBecause thereâs stairs inside. Oh, and dear little lights.â
It was a long climb. They had to stop and wail several times for the old ones to catch up, and Torrit had to be helped most of the way. At the top, the stairs went through a more dignified sort of door into÷
Even when he was young, Masklin had never seen more than forty nomes all together at once There were more that that here. And there was food. It didnât look like anything he recognized, but it had to be food. After all, people were eating it A space about twice as high as he was stretched away into the distance. Food was stacked in neat piles with aisles between them, and these were thronged with nomes. No one paid much attention to the little group as it shuffled obediently behind Angalo,, who had got some of his old swagger back.
Several nomes had sleek rats on leads. Some of the ladies had mice, which trotted obediently behind them, and out of the corner of his ear Masklin could hear Granny Morkie tut-tutting her disapproval.
He also heard old Torrit say excitedly, ÎI know that stuff! Thatâs cheese! There was a cheese sandwich in the bin once, back in the summer of eighty-four, dâyou remember÷?â Granny Morkie nudged him hard in his skinny ribs.
ÎYou shut up, you,â she commanded. ÎYou donât want to show us up in front of all these folk; do you? Be a leader. Act proud.â
They werenât very good at it. They walked in stunned silence. Fruits and vegetables were &tacked behind trestle tables, with nomes working industriously on them. There were other things, too, which he couldnât begin to recognize. Masklin didnât want to show his ignorance, but curiosity got the better of him.
ÎWhatâs that thing over there?â he said, pointing. ÎItâs a salami sausage,â said Angalo. ÎEver had it before?â
ÎNot lately,â said Masklin, truthfully.
ÎAnd theyâre dates,â said Angalo. ÎAnd thatâs a banana. I expect youâve never seen, a banana before, have you?â
Masklin opened his mouth, but Granny Morkie beat him to it.
ÎBit small, that one,â she said, and sniffed.
ÎQuite tiny, in fact, compared to the ones we got at home.â -
ÎIt is, is it?â said Angalo, suspiciously.
ÎOh, yes,â said Granny, beginning to warm to her subject. ÎVery puny. Why, the ones we got at home,â she paused and looked at the banana, lying on a couple of trestles like a canoe, and her lips moved as she thought fast, Îwhy,â she added triumphantly, Îwe could hardly dig them out oâ the ground!â
She stared victoriously at Angalo, who tried to outstare her and gave up.
ÎWell, whatever,â he said vaguely, looking away. ÎYou may all help yourselves. Tell the nomes in charge that itâs to go on the Haberdasheri account, will you? But donât say youâve come from Outside. I want that to be a surprise.â
There was a general rush in the direction of the food. Even Granny Morkie just happened to wander towards it, and acted quite surprised to find her way blocked by a cake.
Only Masklin stayed where he was, despite the urgent complaints from his stomach. He wasnât sure he even began to understand how things worked in the Store, but he had an obscure feeling that if you didnât face them with dignity you could end up doing things you werenât entirely happy about.
ÎYouâre not hungry?â said Angalo.
ÎIâm hungry,â admitted Masklin, ÎIâm just not eating. Where does all the food come from?â
ÎOh, we take it from the humans,â said Angalo airily. ÎTheyâre rather stupid, you know.â
ÎAnd they donât mind?â
ÎThey think itâs rats,â sniggered Angalo. We take up rat doodahs with us. At least, the Food Hall families do,â he corrected himself. ÎSometimes they let other people go up with them. Then the humans just think itâs rats.â
Masklinâs brow wrinkled.
ÎDoodahs?â he said.
ÎYou know,â said Angalo. ÎDroppings.â
Masklin nodded. ÎThey fall for that, do they?â he said doubtfully.
ÎTheyâre very stupid, I told you.â The boy walked around Masklin. ÎYou must come and see my father,â he said. ÎOf course, itâs a foregone conclusion that youâll join the Haberdasheri.â
Masklin looked at the tribe. They had spread out among the food stalls. Torrit had a lump of cheese as big as his head, Granny Morkie was investigating a banana as if it might explode, and even Grimma wasnât paying him any attention.
Masklin felt lost. What he was good at, he knew, was tracking a rat across several fields, bringing it down with a single spear throw, and dragging it home. Heâd felt really good about that People had said things like ÎWell doneâ.
He had a feeling that you didnât have to track a banana.
ÎYour father?â he said.
ÎThe Duke de Haberdasheri,â said Angalo proudÐly. ÎDefender of the Mezzanine and Autocrat of the Staff Canteen.â
ÎHeâs three people?â said Masklin, puzzled.
ÎThose are his titles. Some of them. Heâs nearly the most powerful nome in the Store. Do you have things like fathers Outside?â
Funny thing, Masklin thought. Heâs a rude little twerp except when he talks about the OutÐside, then heâs like an eager little boy.
ÎI had one once,â he said. He didnât want to dwell on the subject.
ÎI bet you had- lots of adventures!â
Masklin thought about some of the things that had happened to him ÷ or, more accuÐrately, had nearly happened to him ÷ recentÐly.
ÎYes,â he said.
ÎI bet it was tremendous fun!â
Fun, Masklin thought. It wasnât a familiar word. Perhaps it referred to running through muddy ditches with hungry teeth chasing you. ÎDo you hunt?â he asked.
ÎRats, sometimes. In the boiler-room. Of course, we have to keep them down.â He scratched Bobo behind an ear.
ÎDo you eat them?â
Angalo looked horrified. ÎEat rat?â
Masklin stared around at the piles of food. ÎNo, I suppose not,â he said. ÎYou know, I never realized there were so many nomes in the world. How many live here?â
Angalo told him.
ÎTwo what?â said Masklin.
Angalo repeated it.
ÎYou donât look very impressed,â he said, when Masklinâs expression didnât change.
Masklin looked hard at the end of his spear. It was a piece of flint heâd found in a field one day, and heâd spent ages teasing a bit of binder twine out of the haybale in order to tie it on to a stick. Right now it seemed about the one familiar thing in a bewildering world.
ÎI donât know,â he said. What is a thousand?â
Duke Cido de Haberdasheri, who was also Lord
Protector of the Up Escalator, Defender of the Mezzanine and Knight of the Counter, turned the Thing over in his hands, very slowly. Then he tossed it aside.
ÎVery amusing,â he said.
The nomes stood in a confused group in the Dukeâs palace, which was currently under the
- floorboards in the Soft Furnishings Department. The Duke was still in armour, and not very amused.
ÎSo,â he said, Îyouâre from Outside, are you? Do you really expect me to believe you?â
ÎFather, I÷â Angalo began.
ÎBe quiet! You know the words of Arnold Bros (est. 1905)! Everything Under One Roof. Everything! Therefore, there can be no Outside. Therefore, you people are not from it. Therefore, youâre from some other part of the Store. CorÐsetry. Or Young Fashions, maybe. Weâve never really explored there.â
ÎNo, weâre÷â Masklin began.
The Duke held up his hands.
ÎListen to me,â he said, glaring at Masklin. ÎI donât blame you. My son is an impressionable young lad. I have no doubt he talked you into it. Heâs altogether too fond of going to look at lorries, and he listens to silly stories and his brain gets overheated. Now I am not an unreasonable nome,â he added, daring them to disagree, Îand there is always room for a strong lad like yourself in the Haberdashen guards. So let us forget this nonsense, shall we?â
ÎBut we really do come from outside,â Masklin persisted.
ÎThere is no Outside!â said the Duke. ÎExcept of course when a good nome dies, if he has led a proper life. Then there is an Outside, where they will live in splendour for ever. Come now,â he patted Masklin on the shoulder, Îgive up this foolish chatter, and help us in our valiant task.â
ÎYes, but what for?â said Masklin.
ÎYou wouldnât want the Ironmongri to take our department, would you?â said the Duke. Masklin glanced at Angalo, who shook his head urgently.
ÎI suppose not,â he said, Îbut youâre all nomes, arenât you? And thereâs masses for everyone. Spending all your time squabbling seems a bit silly.â
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Angalo put his head in his hands.
The Duke went red.
ÎSilly, did you say?â
Masklin leaned backwards to get out of his-way, but heâd been brought up to be honest. He felt be wasnât bright enough to get away with lies.
Well։ he began.
ÎHave you never heard of honour?â said the Duke.
Masklin thought for a while, and then shook his head.
ÎThe Ironmongri want to take over the whole Store,â said Angalo hurriedly. ÎThat would be a terrible thing. And the Millineri are nearly as bad.â
ÎWhy?â said Masklin.
ÎWhy?â said the Duke ÎBecause they have always been our enemies. And now you may go,â he added.
ÎWhere?â said Masklin.
ÎTo the Ironmongri, or the Millineri. Or the Stationeri, theyâre just the people for you. Or go back Outside, for all I care,â said the Duke sarcasÐtically.
ÎWe want the Thing back,â said Masklin stolidly.
The Duke picked it up and threw it at him.
ÎSorry,â said Angalo, when they had got away.
ÎI should have told you father had rather a temper.â
ÎWhat did you go and upset him for?â said Grimma irritably. ÎIf weâve got to- join up with someone, why not with him? What happens to us now?â
ÎHe was very rude,â said Granny Morkie stoutly.
ÎHeâd never heard of the Thing,â said Torrit. ÎTerrible, that is. Or Outside. Well, I was bornedÊ and bred outside. Ainât no dead people there. Not living in any splendour, anyway.â
They started to squabble, which was fairly usual.
Masklin looked at them. Then he looked at his feet. They were walking on a sort of short dry grass that Angalo had said was called Carpet. Something else stolen from the Store above.
He wanted to say: this is ridiculous. Why is it that as soon as a nome has all he needs to eat and drink he starts to bicker with other nomes? There must be more to being a nome than this.
And he wanted to say: if humans are so stupid, how is it that they built this Store and all these lorries? If weâre that clever, then they should be stealing from us, not the other way around. They might be big and slow, but theyâre quite bright, really.
And he wanted to add: I wouldnât be surprised if theyâre at least as intelligent as rats, say.
But he didnât say any of this, because while he was thinking his eyes fell on the Thing, clasped in Torritâs arms.
He was aware that there was a thought he ought to be having. He made a space in his head politely and waited patiently to see what it was and then, just as it was about to arrive, Grimma said to Angalo: ÎWhat happens to nomes who arenât in a department?â
ÎThey lead very sad lives,â said Angalo. ÎThey just have to get along as best they can.â
He looked as if he was about to cry. ÎI believe you,â he said. ÎMy father says itâs wrong to watch the lorries. They can lead you into wrong thoughts, he says. Well, Iâve watched them for months. SomeÐtimes they come in wet. Itâs not all a dream Outside, things happen. Look, why donât you sort of hang around, and Iâm sure heâll change his mind.â
The Store was big. Masklin had thought the lorry was big. The Store was bigger. It went on for ever, a maze of floor and walls and long, tiring steps. Nomes hurried or sauntered past them on errands of their own, and there seemed to be no end of them. In fact the word Îbigâ was too small. The Store needed a whole new word.
In a strange way it was even bigger than outÐside. Outside was so huge you didnât really see it. It had no edges and no top, so you didnât think of it as having a size at all. It was just there. Whereas the Store did have edges and a top, and they were so far away they were, well, big.
As they followed Angalo, Masklin made up his mind and decided to tell Grimma first.
ÎIâm going back,â he said.
She stared at him. ÎBut weâve only just arrived! Why on earth÷?â
ÎI donât know. Itâs all wrong here. It just feels wrong. I keep thinking that if I stay here any longer I'll stop believing thereâs anything outside, and I was born there. When Iâve got you all settled down Iâm going out again. You can come if you like,â he added, Îbut you donât have to.â
ÎBut itâs warm and thereâs all this food!â
ÎI said I couldnât explain. I just feel weâre being, well, watched.â
Instinctively she stared upwards at the ceiling a few inches above them. Back home anything watching them usually meant something was thinking about lunch. Then she remembered herÐself, and gave a nervous laugh.
ÎDonât be silly,â she said.
ÎI just donât feel safe,â he said wretchedly.
ÎYou mean you donât feel wanted,â said Grimma quietly.
ÎWhat?â
ÎWell, isnât that true? You spend all your time scrimping and scraping for everyone, and then you donât need to any more. Itâs a funny feeling, isnât it.â
She swept away.
Masklin stood and fiddled with the binding on his spear. Odd, he thought. I never thought anyÐone else would think like that. He had a few dim recollections of Grimma in the hole, always doing laundry or organizing the old women or trying to cook whatever it was he managed to drag home. Odd. Fancy missing something like that.
He became aware that the rest of them had stopped. The underfloor stretched away ahead of them, lit dimly by small lights fixed to the wood here and there. Ironmongri charged highly for the lights, Angalo said, and wouldnât let anyone else into the secret of controlling the electric. It was one of the things that made the Ironmongri so powerful.
ÎThis is the edge of Haberdasheri territory at the moment,â he said. ÎOver there is Millineri country. Weâre a bit cool with them at the moment. Er. Youâre bound to find some department to take you in. . . ÎHe looked at Grimma.
ÎEr,â he said.
ÎWeâre going to stay together,â said Granny Morkie. She looked hard at Masklin, and then turned back imperiously and waved her hand at Angalo.
ÎGo away, young man,â she said. ÎMasklin, stand up straight. Now. . . forward.â
Whoâre you, saying forward?â said Torrit. ÎIâm the leader, I am. Itâs my job, givinâ orders.â
ÎAll right,â said Granny Morkie. ÎGive Îem, then.â Torritâs mouth worked soundlessly. ÎRight,â he managed. ÎForward.â
Masklinâs jaw dropped.
ÎWhere to?â he said, as the old woman shooed them along the dim space.
ÎWe will find somewhere. I lived through the Great Winter of 1986,1 did,â said Granny Morkie haughtily. ÎThe cheek of that silly old Duke man! I nearly spoke up. He wouldnât of lasted long in the Great Winter, I can tell you.â
ÎNo Îarm can befall us if we obey the Thing,â said Torrit, patting it carefully.
Masklin stopped. He had, he decided, had enough.
ÎWhat does the Thing say, then?â he said sharply. ÎExactly? What does it actually tell us to do now? Come on, tell me what it says we should do now!â
Torrit looked a bit desperate.
ÎEr,â he began, ÎIt, er, is clear that if we pulls together and maintains a proper÷â
ÎYou're just making it up as you go along!â
ÎHow date you speak to him like that÷â Grimma began Masklin flung down his spear
ÎWell, Iâm fed up with it!â he muttered. The Thing says this, the Thing says that, the Thing says every blessed thing except anything that might be useful!â
The Thing has been handed down from nome to nome for hundreds of years,â said Grimma. ÎItâs very important.â
ÊÎWhy?âÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ
Grimma looked at Torrit. He licked his lips.
ÎIt shows us÷â he began, white-faced.
ÎMove me closer to the electricity.â
ÎThe Thing seems to be more important than what are you all looking like that for?â said Masklin.
ÎCloser to the electricity.â
Torrit, his hands shaking, looked down at the Thing.
Where there had been smooth black surfaces there were now little dancing lights. Hundreds of them. In fact, Masklin thought, feeling slightly proud of knowing what the word meant, there were probably thousands of them.
ÎWho said that?â said Masklin.
The Thing dropped out of Torritâs grasp and landed on the floor, where its lights glittered like a thousand motorways at night. The nomes watched it in horror.
ÎThe Thing does tell you things. . . Îsaid MaskÐlin. ÎGosh!â
Torrit waved his hands frantically. ÎNot like that! Not like that! It ainât supposed to talk out loud! Itâs ainât done that before!â
ÎCloser to the electricity!â
ÎIt wants the electricity,â said Masklin.
'Well, Iâm not going to touch it!â
Masklin shrugged and then, using his spear gingerly, pushed the Thing across the floor until it was under the wires.
ÎHow does it speak? It hasnât got a mouth,â said Grimma.
The Thing whirred. Coloured shapes flickered across its surfaces faster than Masklinâs eyes could follow. Most of them were red.
Torrit sank to his knees. ÎIt is angry,â he moaned. We shouldnât have eaten rat, we shouldnât have come here, we shouldnât÷â
Masklin also knelt down. He touched the bright areas, gingerly at first, but they werenât hot.
He felt that strange feeling again, of his mind wanting to think certain thoughts without having the right words.
ÎWhen the Thing has told you things before,â he said slowly, Îyou know, how we should live proper lives÷â
Torrit gave him an agonized expression.
ÎIt never has,â he said.
ÎBut you said÷âÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ
ÎIt used to, it used to,â moaned Torrit. ÎWhen old Voozel passed it on to me he said it used to, but he said that hundreds and hundreds of years ago it just stopped.â
What?â said Granny Morkie. ÎAll these years, my good man, youâve been telling us that the Thing says this and the Thing says that and the Thing says goodness knows what.â
Now Torrit looked like a very frightened, trapped animal.
Well?â said the old woman, menacingly. ÎAhem,â said Torrit. ÎEr. What old Voozel said was, think about what the Thing ought to say, and then say it. Keep people on the right path, sort of thing. Help them get to the Heavens. Very important, getting to the Heavens. The Thing can help you get there, he said. Most important thing about it.â
ÎWhat?â shouted Granny.
ÎThatâs what he told me to do. It worked, didnât it?â
Masklin ignored them. The coloured lines moved over the Thing in hypnotic patterns. He felt that he ought to know what they meant. He was certain they meant something.
Sometimes, on fine days back in the timesÊ when he didnât have to hunt every day, heâdÊ climb further along the bank until he could lookÊ down on the place where the lorries parked. ThereÊ was a big blue board there, with little shapes andÊ pictures on it. And in the litter-bins the boxes and papers had more shapes and pictures on them; he remembered the long argument theyâd had about the chicken boxes with the pictures of the old man
Êwith the big whiskers on them. Several nomes had insisted that this was a picture of a chicken, but Masklin had rather felt that humans didnât go around eating old men. There had to be more to it than that. Perhaps old men made chicken.
The Thing hummed again.
ÎFifteen thousand years have passed,â it said. Masklin looked up at the others.
ÎYou talk to it,â Granny ordered Torrit. The old man backed away.
ÎNot me! Not me! I dunno what to say!â he said. ÎWell, I ainât!â snapped Granny. ÎThatâs the leaderâs job, is that!â
ÎFifteen thousand years have passed,â the Thing repeated.
Masklin shrugged. It seemed to be up to him.
ÎPassed what?â he said.
The Thing gave the impression that it was thinking busily. At last it said: ÎDo you still know the meaning of the words Flight Navigation and Recording Computer?â
ÎNo,â said Masklin earnestly. ÎNone of them.â
The light pattern moved.
ÎDo you know anything about interstellar travel?â
ÎNo.â
The box gave Masklin the distinct impression that it was very disappointed in him.
ÎDo you know you came here from a place far away?â it said.
ÎOh, yes. We know that.â
ÎA place further than the moon.â
ÎEr.â Masklin hesitated. The journey bad taken a long time. It was always possible that they had gone past the moon. He had often seen it on the horizon, and he was certain that the lorry had gone further than that.
ÎYes,â he said. ÎProbably.â
ÎLanguage changes over the years,â said the Thing thoughtfully.
ÎDoes it?â said Masklin politely.
What do you call this-planet?â
ÎI donât know what planet means, either,â said Masklin.
ÎAn astronomical body.â
Masklin looked blank.
ÎWhat is your name for this place?â
ÎItâs called. . . the Store.â
ÎThe store.â The lights moved, as if the Thing was thinking again.
ÎYoung man, I donât want to stand here all day exchanging nonsense with the thing,â said Granny Morkie. What we need to do now is sort out where weâre going and what weâre going to do.â
Thatâs right,â said Torrit defiantly.
ÊÎDo you even remember that you are shipÐwrecked?â
ÊÎIâm Masklin,â said Masklin. ÎI donât know who Shipwrecked is.â
The lights changed again. Later, when he got toÊ know the Thing better, Masklin always thought that particular pattern was its way of sighing deeply.
ÎMy purpose is to serve you and guide you,â said the Thing.
ÎSee?â said Torrit, who was feeling a bit out of things. ÎWe was right about that!â
Masklin prodded the box. ÎYouâve been keeping a bit quiet about it lately, then,â he said.
The Thing hummed. ÎThis was to maintainÊ internal power. However, I can now use ambient
electricity.â
Thatâs nice,â said Grimma.
ÎYou mean you sort of drink up the lights?â said Masklin.
ÎThat will suffice as an explanation for now.â
Why didnât you talk before, then?â said Masklin.
ÎI was listening.â
ÎOh.â
ÎAnd now I await instructions.â
ÎIn where?â said Grimma.
ÎI think it wants us to tell it what to do,â said Masklin. He sat back on his heels and watched the lights.
What can you do?â he said.
ÎI can translate, calculate, triangulate, assimiÐlate, -correlate and extrapolate.â
ÎI donât think we want anything like that,â said Masklin. ÎDo we want anything like that?â he asked the others.
Granny Morkie appeared to think about it. ÎNo,â she said eventually, ÎI donât think we wants any of that stuff. Another bananaâd be nice, mind.â
ÎI think all we really want is to go home and be safe,â said Masklin.
ÎGo home.â
ÎThatâs right.â
ÎAnd be safe.â
ÎYes.â
Later on, those five words became one of the most famous quotations in nome history. They got taught in schools. They got carved in stone. And itâs sad, therefore, that at the time no one thought they were particularly important.
All that happened was that the Thing said,
ÎComputing.â
Then all its lights died, except a small green one, which began to flash.
ÎThank goodness for that,â said Grimma. ÎWhat a horrible voice. What shall we do now?â
ÎAccording to that Angalo boy,â said Granny, Îwe have to live very sad lives.â
i. &nbs p; For they did not know it, but they had brought with them the Thing, which awoke in the presence of Electricity, and it alone knew their History;
ii. &nbs p; For nomes have memories of Flesh and Blood, while the Thing had a memory of Silicon, which is Stone and perisheth not, whereas the memory of nomes blows away like dust;
iii. &nbs p; And they gave it Instructions, but knew it not.
iv. &nbs p; it is, they said, a Box with a Funny Voice.
v. &nbs p; But the Thing began to Compute the task of keeping all nomes safe.
vi. &nbs p; And the Thing also began to Compute the task of taking all nomes home.
vii. &nbs p; All the way Home.
From The Book of Nome, Mezzanine v.I-VII
It was easy to get lost under the floor. It took no effort at all. It was a maze of walls and cables, with drifts of dust away from the paths. In fact, as Torrit said, they werenât exactly lost, more mislaid; there were paths all over the place, between the joists and walls, but no indication of where they led to. Sometimes a nome would hurry past on an errand of its own, and paid them no attention. They dozed in an alcove formed by two huge wooden walls, and woke up to light as dim as ever. There didnât seem to be any night or day in the Store. It did seem noisier, though. There was a distant, all-pervading hubbub.
A few more lights were flashing on the Thing, and it had grown a little, cup-shaped, smaller thing that went round and round very slowly.
ÎShould we look for the Food Hall again?â said Torrit, hopefully.
ÎI think you have to be a member of a departÐment,â said Masklin. ÎBut it canât be the only place with food, can it?â
ÎIt wasnât as noisy as this when we came here,â said Granny. ÎWhat a din!â
Masklin looked around. There was a space between the woodwork, and a distant gleam of very bright light. He edged towards it, and stuck his eye to the crack.
ÎOh,â he said weakly.
ÎWhat is it?â Grimma called out.
ÎItâs humans. More humans than youâve ever seen before.â
The crack was where the ceiling joined the wall of a room nearly as big as the lorry nest and it was, indeed, full of humans. The Store had opened.
The nomes had always known that humans lived very slowly. Masklin had almost walked into humans once or twice, when he was hunting, and knew that even before one of their huge stupid faces could swivel its eyes he could be off the path and hiding behind a clump of something.
The space below was crowded with them, walkÐing their great slow clumping walk and booming at each other in their vague, deep voices.
The nomes watched, fascinated, for some time.
ÎWhat are those things theyâre holding?â said Grimma. ÎThey look a bit like the Thing.â
ÎDunno,â said Masklin.
ÎLook, they pick them up, and then give someÐthing to the other human, and then itâs put in a bag, and they go away. They almost look, well, as if they mean what theyâre doing.â
ÎNo, itâs like ants,â said Torrit authoritatively. ÎThey seems intelligent, Iâll grant you, but when you looks closely thereâs nothing really clever about them.â
ÎThey build things,â said Masklin, vaguely.
ÎSo do birds, my lad.â
ÎYes, but÷â
ÎHumans are a bit like magpies, Iâve always said. They just want things that glitter.â
ÎHmm.â Masklin decided not to argue. You couldnât argue with old Torrit, unless you were Granny Morkie, of course. He only had room for a certain number of ideas in his head, and once one had taken root you couldnât budge it. But Masklin wanted to say: if theyâre so stupid, why isnât it them hiding from us?
An idea struck him. He lifted up the Thing.
ÎThing?â he said.
There was a pause. Then the tinny little voice said: ÎOperations on main task suspended. What is it that you require?â
ÎDo you know what humans are?â said Masklin.
ÎYes. Resuming main task.â
Masklin looked blankly at the others.
ÎThing?â he said.
ÎOperations on main task suspended. What is it that you require?â
ÎI asked you to tell me about humans,â said Masklin.
ÎThis is not the case. You said: do you know what humans are. My answer was correct in every respect.â
ÎWell, tell me what humans are!â
ÎHumans are the indigenous inhabitants of the world you now call Thestore. Resuming main task.â
ÎThere!â said Torrit, nodding wisely. ÎI told you, didnât I? Theyâre indigenous. Clever, yes, but basiÐcally just indigenous. Just a lot of indigenouses.â He hesitated. ÎIndigenice,â he corrected himself.
ÎAre we indigenous?â said Masklin.
ÎMain task interrupted. No. Main task resumed.â
ÎÎCourse not,â said Torrit witheringly. ÎWeâve got a bit of pride.â
Masklin opened his mouth to ask what inÐdigenous meant. He knew he didnât know, and he was certain that Torrit didnât. And after that he wanted to ask a lot more questions, and before he asked them heâd have to think about the words he used.
I donât know enough words, he thought. Some things you canât think, unless you know the right words.
But he didnât get around to it, because a voice behind him said, Powerful strange things, ainât they? And very busy just lately. I wonder whatâs got into them?â
It was an elderly, rather stocky nome. And drably dressed, which was unusual in the Store. Most of his clothing was a huge apron, its pockets bulging mysteriously.
ÎHave you been spying on us?â said Granny Morkie.
The stranger gave a shrug.
ÎI usually come here to watch humans,â he said.
ÊÎItâs a good spot. There isnât usually anyone else here. What department are you?â
ÎWe havenât got one,â said Masklin.
ÎWeâre just people,â said Granny.
ÎNot indigenous, either,â Torrit added quickly. The stranger grinned, and slid off the wooden beam heâd been sitting on.
ÎFancy that,â he said. ÎYou must be these new things Iâve heard about. Outsiders?â
He held out his hand. Masklin looked at it cautiously.
ÎYes?â he said politely.
The stranger sighed. ÎYouâre supposed to shake it,â he said.
ÎI am? Why?â
ÎItâs traditional. My nameâs Dorcas del IcaÐtessen.â The stranger gave Masklin a lopsided grin. ÎDo you know yours?â he said.
Masklin ignored this. ÎWhat do you mean, you watch humans?â he said.
ÎI watch humans. Study them, you know. Itâs what I do. You can learn a lot about the future by watching humans.â
ÎA bit like the weather, you mean?â said Masklin. ÎWeather! Of course, weather!â The nome grinned hugely, ÎYouâd know all about the weather. Powerful stuff, weather?â
ÎYouâve heard of it?â said Masklin.
ÎOnly the old stories. Hmm.â Dorcas looked him up and down. ÎI reckoned Outsidersâd have to be a different shape, though. Life, but not as we know it. You just come along with me. Iâll show you what I mean.â
Masklin looked slowly around the dusty space between the floors. This was just about it. Heâd had just about enough of it. It was too warm and too dry and everyone treated him like a fool and now they thought he was the wrong shape.
ÎWell÷â he began, and under his arm the Thing said, ÎWe need this person.â
ÎMy word,â said Dorcas. ÎWhat a tiny radio. They get smaller all the time, donât they.â
Where Dorcas led them was just a hole. Big, square, deep and dark. A few cables, fatter than a nome, disappeared down into the depths.
ÎYou live down here?â said Grimma.
Dorcas fumbled in the darkness. There was a click. Far above, something went bang and there was a distant roaring sound.
ÎHmm? Oh, no,â he said. ÎTook me ages to sort out, did this. Itâs a sort of floor on a rope. It goes up and down, you know. With humans in it. So I thought, Iâm not getting any younger, all those stairs were playing gyp with my legs, so I had a look at the way it worked. Perfectly simple. Itâd have to be, oâ course, otherwise humans wouldnât know how to use it. Stand back, please.â
Something huge and black came down the shaft and stopped a few inches above their heads. There were clangs and thumps and the now-familiar sound of clumsy humans walking about.
There was also, slung under the liftâs floor, a small wire basket tied on with bits of string.
ÎIf you think,â said Granny Morkie, Îthat Iâm going to get into a, a wire nest on a string, then youâve got another÷â
ÎIs it safe?â said Masklin.
ÎMore or less, more or less,â said Dorcas, stepping across the gap and fumbling with another little bundle of switches. ÎHurry up, please. This way, madam.â
ÎEr, how much more than less?â said Masklin as Granny, astonished at being called madam, got aboard.
ÎWell, my bit Iâm sure is safe,â said Dorcas. ÎThe bit above us was put together by humans, though, and you never can tell. Hold tight, please. Going up!â
There was a clang above them, and a slight jerk as they began to rise.
ÎGood isnât it,â said Dorcas. ÎTook me ages to bypass all the switches. Youâd have thought theyâd notice wouldnât you? They press the button to go down, but if I want to go up, we go up. I used to worry that the humans would think it odd that the lifts seemed to go up and down by themselves, but they seem powerful dense. Here we are.â
The lift stopped with another jerk, leaving the nomeâs basket level with another underfloor gap.
ÎElectrical and Domestic Appliances,â said DorÐcas. ÎJust a little place I call my own. No one bothers me here, not even the Abbot. Iâm the only one who knows how things work, see.â
It was a place of wires. They ran under the floor in every direction, great bundles of the things. A few young nomes were taking something to pieces in the middle of it all.
ÎRadio,â said Dorcas. ÎAmazing thing. Trying to figure out how it talks.â He rummaged among piles of thick paper, pulled out a sheet, and sheepishly passed it to Masklin.
It showed a small pinkish cone, with a little tuft of hair on top.
The nomes had never seen a limpet. If they had, theyâd have known that this drawing looked exactly like one. Except for the hair.
ÎVery nice,â said Masklin, uncertainly. ÎWhat is it?â
ÊÎUrn. It was my idea of what an Outsider would look like, you see,â said Dorcas.
ÎWhat, with pointy heads?â
ÎThe Rain, you see. In the old legends of the time before the Store. Rain. Water dropping out of the sky all the time. Itâd need to run off. And the sloping sides are so the Wind wonât keep knocking it over. I only had the old stories to go on, you see.â
ÎIt hasnât even got any eyes!â
Dorcas pointed. ÎYes, it has. Tiny ones. Tucked in under the hair so they wonât get blinded by the Sun. Thatâs a big bright light in the sky,â Dorcas added helpfully.
ÎWeâve seen it,â said Masklin.
ÎWhatâs he sayin'?' said Torrit.
ÎHeâs saying you ought to of looked like that,â said Granny Morkie sarcastically.
ÎMy head ainât that sharp!â
ÎYouâre right there, you,â said Granny. ÎI think youâve got it a bit wrong,â said Masklin slowly. ÎItâs not like that at all. Hasnât anyone been to look?â
ÎI saw the big door open once,â said Dorcas. ÎThe one down in the garage,! mean. But there was just a blinding white light outside.â
ÎI expect it would seem like it, if you spend all your time in this gloom,â said Masklin.
Dorcas pulled up an empty cotton reel. ÎYou must tell me about it,â he said. ÎEverything you can remember about the Outside.â
In Torritâs lap, the Thing began to flash another green light.
One of the young nomes brought some food after a while. And they talked, and argued, and often contradicted one another, while Dorcas listened, and asked questions.
He was, he told them, an inventor. Especially of things to do with electricity. Back in the early days, when the nomes first began to tap into the Storeâs wiring, a good many had been killed. Theyâd found safer ways to do it now, but it was still a bit of a mystery and there werenât many who were keen to get close to it. Thatâs why the leaders of the big families, and even the Abbot of the Stationeri himself, left him alone. It was always a
good idea, he said, to be good at something other F people couldnât or didnât, want to do. So they put
up with him sometimes wondering, out loud, about the Outside. Provided he wasnât too loud.
ÎI shanât remember it all,â he sighed. ÎWhat was the other light, the one that you get at Closing Time? Sorry, I mean bite.â
ÎNight,â corrected Masklin. ÎItâs called the moon.â
ÎMoon,â said Dorcas, roffing the word around his mouth. ÎBut itâs not as bright as the sun? Strange, really. Itâd be more sensible to have the brightest light at night, not during the day, when you can see anyway. I suppose youâve no idea why, have you?â
ÎIt just happens,â said Masklin.
ÎIâd give anything to see for myself. I used to go and watch the lorries when! was a lad, but! never had the courage to get on one.â He leaned closer.
ÎI reckon,â he said, Îthat Arnold Bros (est. 1905) put us in the Store to find out things. To learn about it. Otherwise, why have we got brains? What do you think?â
Masklin was rather flattered at being asked, but he was interrupted as soon as he opened his mouth. ÎPeople keep talking about Arnold Bros (est. 1905),â said Grimma. ÎNo one actually says who he is, though.â
Dorcas leaned back. ÎOh, he created the Store. In 1905, you know. The Bargain Basement, ConÐsumer Accounts, and everything between. I canât deny it. I mean, someone must have done it. But I keep telling people, that doesnât mean we shouldnât think about÷â
The green light on the Thing went off. Its little spinning cup vanished. It made a faint whirring sound, such as a machine would make to clear its throat.
ÎI am monitoring telephonic communications,â it said.
The nomes looked at one another.
Well, thatâs nice,â said Grimma. ÎIsnât that nice, Masklin?â
ÎI have urgent information to impart to the leadÐers of this community. Are you aware that you are living in a constructed entity with a limited life?â
ÎFascinating,â said Dorcas. ÎAll those words. You could imagine you could almost understand what itâs saying. Thereâs things up there,â he jerked his thumb to the floorboards above them, Îthatâre just like that. Radios, theyâre called. With pictures, too. Amazing.â
ÎVitally important I communicate information of utmost significance to community leaders, concerning imminent destruction of this artifact,â intoned the Thing.
ÎIâm sorry,â said Masklin. ÎCould you try that again?â
ÎYou do not comprehend?â
ÎI donât know what ãcomprehendä means.â
ÎEvidently language has changed in ways I do not understand.â
Masklin tried to look helpful.
ÎI will endeavour to clarify my statement,â said the Thing. A few lights flashed.
ÎJolly good,â said Masklin.
ÎBig-fella Store him go Bang along plenty soon enough chop-chop?â said the Thing, hopefully.
The nomes watched one anotherâs faces. There didnât seem to be any light dawning.
The Thing cleared its throat again. ÎDo you know the meaning of the word ãdestroyedä?â it said.
ÎOh, yes,â said Dorcas.
ÎThatâs what is going to happen to the Store. In twenty-one days.â
i. Woe unto you, Ironmongri and Haberdasheri; woe unto you, Millineri and Del Icatessen; woe unto you, Young Fashiones, and unto you, you bandits of Corsetry. And even unto to you, Stationeri.
ii. For the Store is but a Place inside the Outside.
iii. Woe unto you, for Arnold Bros (est. 1905) has opened the Last Sale. Everything Must Go.
iv. But they mocked him and said, You are an Outsider, You donât even Exist.
From The Book of Nome, Goods Inwards v.I-IV
Overhead the humans plodded through their slow and incomprehensible lives. Below, so that that the din was muffled by carpet and floorboards into a distant rumbling, the nomes straggled hurriedly along their dusty passageways.
ÎIt couldnât of meant it,â said Granny Morkie. ÎThis place is too big. Place as big as this canât be de-stroyed Stands to reason.â
ÎI tole you, dint I?â panted Torrit, who always cheered up immensely at any news of devastation and terror. ÎThey always said the Thing knows things. And donât you go tellinâ me to shut up,
you.â
ÎWhy do we have to run?â said Masklin. ÎI mean, twenty-one days is a long time.â
ÎNot in politics,â said Dorcas grimly.
ÎI thought this was the Store?â
Dorcas stopped so suddenly that Granny Morkie cannoned into the back of him.
ÎLook,â he said, with impatient patience. ÎWhat do you think nomes should do, eh, if the Store is destroyed?â
ÎGo outside, of÷â Masklin began.
ÎBut most of them donât even believe the Outside really exists! Even Iâm not quite sure about it, and I have an extremely intelligent and questioning mind! There isnât anywhere to go. Do you underÐstand me?â
ÎThereâs masses of outside÷â
ÎOnly if you believe in it!â
ÎNo, itâs really there!â
ÎIâm afraid people are more complicated than you think. But we ought to see the Abbot, anyway Dreadful old tyrant, of course, but quite bright in his way. Itâs just a rather stuffy way.â He looked hard at them.
ÎPossibly best if we donât draw attention to ourÐselves,â he added. ÎPeople tend to leave me alone, but itâs not a wise thing for people to wander around outside their department without good reason. And since you havenât got a department at all...â
He shrugged. He managed, in one shift of his shoulders, to hint at all the unpleasant things that could happen to departmentless wanderers.
It meant using the lift again. It led into a dusty underfloor area, dimly lit by well-spaced, weak bulbs. No one seemed to be around. After the bustleÊ of the other departments it was almost unpleasÐantly quiet. Even quieter, Masklin thought, than the big fields. After all, they were meant to be quiet. The underfloor spaces should have nomes in.
They all sensed it. They drew closer to one another.
ÎWhat dear little lights,â said Grimma, to break the silence. ÎNome-size. All different colours, look. And some of them flash on and off.â
ÎWe steal boxes of Îem every year, around Christmas Fayre,â said Dorcas, without looking around. ÎHumans put them on trees.â
ÎWhy?â
ÎSearch me. To see Îem better, I suppose. You can never tell, with humans,â said Dorcas.
ÎBut you know what trees are, then,â said Masklin. ÎI didnât think youâd have them in the Store.â
ÎOf course I know,â said Dorcas. ÎBig green things with plastic prickles on. Some of Îem are made of tinsel. You canât move for the damn things every Christmas Fayre, I told you.â
ÎThe ones we have outside are huge,â Masklin ventured. ÎAnd they have these leaves, which fall off every year.â
Dorcas gave him an odd look.
ÊÎWhat do you mean, fall off?â he said.
ÎThey just curl up and fall off,â said Masklin. The other nomes nodded. There were a lot of things lately they werenât certain about, but they were experts on what happened to leaves every year.
ÎAnd this happens every year?â said Dorcas.
ÎOh, yes.â
ÎReally?â said Dorcas. ÎFascinating. And who sticks them back on?â
ÎNo one,â said Masklin. ÎThey just turn up again, eventually.â
ÎAll by themselves?â
They nodded. When thereâs one thing youâre certain of, you hang on to it. ÎThey seem to,â said Masklin. ÎWeâve never really found out why. It just happens.â
The Store nome scratched his head. Well,! donât know,â he said uncertainly. ÎIt sounds like very sloppy management to me. Are you sure? âThere were suddenly figures surrounding them. One minute dust heaps, the next minute people. The one right in front of the party had a beard, a patch over one eye, and a knife clutched in his teeth. It somehow made his grin so much worse.
ÎOh, dear,â said Dorcas.
ÎWhoâre they?â hissed Masklin. ÎBandits. Thatâs always a problem in Corsetry,â
said Dorcas, raising his hands. ÎWhatâs bandits?â said Masklin blankly. Whatâs Corsetry?â said Grimma. Dorcas pointed a finger at the floorboards overÐhead. ÎItâs up there,â he said. ÎA department. Only no oneâs really interested in it because thereâs nothing in it of any use. Itâs mainly pink,â he added. ÎSometimes the elastic÷â
ÎOrr ossessionz orr orr ife,â said the head bandit impatiently.
ÎPardon?â said Grimma.
ÎI edd, orr ossessionz orr orr ife!â
ÎI think itâs the knife,â said Masklin. ÎI think weâd understand you if you took the knife out.â
The bandit glared at them with his one good eye, but took the knife blade out of his mouth.
ÎI said, your possessions or your life!â heÊ repeated.
Masklin gave Dorcas a questioning look. The old nome waved his hands.
ÎHe wants you to give him everything you have,âhe said. ÎHe wonât kill you, of course, but they can be rather unpleasant.â
The Outside nomes went into a huddle. This was something beyond their experience. The idea of stealing was a new one to them. Back home there had never been anyone to steal from. If it came to that, there had never been anything to steal.
ÎDonât they understand plain Nome?â said the bandit.
Dorcas gave him a sheepish grin. ÎYouâll have to excuse them,â he said. ÎTheyâre new here.â
Masklin turned around.
ÎWeâve decided,â he said. ÎIf itâs the same to you, weâll keep what we have. Sorry.â
He gave Dorcas and the bandit a bright smile. The bandit returned it. At least, he opened his mouth and showed a lot of teeth.
ÎEr,â said Dorcas, Îyou canât say that, you know. You canât say you donât want to be robbed!â He saw Masklinâs look of complete bewilderment. ÎRobbed,â he repeated. ÎIt means having your things taken away from you. You just canât say you donât want it to happen!â
ÎWhy not?â said Grimma.
ÎBecause-â the old nome hesitated. ÎI donât know, really. Tradition, I suppose.â
The bandit chief tossed his knife from one hand to the other. ÎTell you what Iâll do,â he said, Îyou being new and everything. Weâll hardly hurt you at all. Get them!â
Two bandits grabbed Granny Morkie.
This turned out tobe a mistake. Her bony right hand flashed out and there were two ringing slaps.
ÎCheek!â she snapped, as the nomes staggered sideways, clutching their ears.
A bandit who tried to hold old Torrit got a pointed elbow in his stomach. One waved a knife at Grimma, who caught his wrist; the knife dropped from his hand and he sank to his knees, making pathetic bubbling noises.
Masklin leaned down, grabbed a handful of the chiefâs shirt in one hand, and lifted him up to eye-level.
ÎIâm not sure we fully understand this custom,â he said. ÎBut nomes shouldnât hurt other nomes, donât you think?â
ÎAhahaha,â said the chief, nervously.
ÎSo I think perhaps it would be a good idea if you go away, donât you?â
He let go. The bandit scrabbled on the floor for his knife, gave Masklin another anxious grin, and ran for it. The rest of the band hurried after him, or at least limped fast.
Masklin turned to Dorcas, who was shaking with laughter.
Well,â he said, Îwhat was that all about?â
Dorcas leaned against a wall for support.
ÎYou really donât know, do you?â he said.
ÎNo,â said Masklin patiently. ÎThatâs why! asked, you see.â
ÎThe Corsetri are bandits. They take things that donât belong to them. They hide out in Corsetry because itâs more trouble than itâs worth to anyone to drag them out,â said Dorcas. ÎUsually they just try to frighten people. Theyâre really just a bit of a nuisance.â
ÎWhyâd that one have his knife in his mouth?â said Grimma.
ÎItâs supposed to make him look tough and devil-may- care, I think.â
ÎI think it makes him look silly,â said Grimma flatly.
ÎHeâll feel the back of my hand if he comes back here,â said Granny Morkie.
ÎI donât think theyâll be back. I think they were a bit shocked to have people hit them, in fact,â said Dorcas. He laughed. ÎYou know, Iâm really looking forward to seeing what effect you lot have on the Abbot. I donât think weâve ever seen anything like you. Youâll be like a a whatâs that stuff you said thereâs a lot of Outside?â
ÎFresh air?â said Masklin.
ÎThatâs right. Fresh air.â
And so they came, eventually, to the Stationeri.
Go to the Stationeri or go Outside, the Duke had said, meaning that he didnât see a lot of difference between the two. And there was no doubt that the other great families distrusted the Stationeri, who they reckoned had strange and terrifying powers.
After all, they could read and write. Anyone who can tell you what a piece of paper is saying must be strange.
They also understood Arnold Bros (est. 1905)âs messages in the sky.
But it is very hard to meet someone who believes you donât exist.
Masklin had always thought that Torrit looked old, but the Abbot looked so old that he must have been around to give Time itself a bit of a push. He walked with the aid of two sticks, and a couple of younger nomes hovered behind him in case he needed support. His face was a bag of wrinkles, out of which his eyes stared like two sharp black holes.
The tribe clustered up behind Masklin, as they always did now when they were worried.
The Abbotâs guest hall was an area walled with cardboard, near one of the lifts. Occasionally one went past, shaking down some dust.
The Abbot was helped to his chair and sat down slowly, while his assistants fussed around him. Then he leaned forward.
ÎAh,â he said, ÎDel Icatessen, isnât it? Invented anything lately?â
ÎNot lately, my lord,â said Dorcas. ÎMy lord, I have the honour to present to you÷â
ÎI canât see anyone,â said the Abbot, smoothly.
ÎMust be blind,â sniffed Granny.
ÎAnd I canât hear anyone, either,â said the Abbot.
ÎBe quiet,â Dorcas hissed. ÎSomeoneâs told him about you! He wonât let himself see you! My lord,â he said loudly, turning back, ÎI bring strange news. The Store is going to be demolished!â
It didnât have quite the effect Masklin had expected. The Stationeri priests behind the Abbot sniggered to themselves, and the Abbot permitted himself a faint smile.
ÎDear me,â he said. ÎAnd when is this terrible event likely to occur?â
ÎIn twenty-one days, my lord.â
Well, then,â said the Abbot in a kindly voice, Îyou run along now and, afterwards, tell us what it was like.â
This time the priests grinned.
ÎMy lord, this is no÷â
The Abbot raised a gnarled hand. ÎIâm sure you know a great deal about electricity, Dorcas, but you must know that every time there is a Grand Final Sale excitable people say ãThe end of the Store is nighä. And, strangely enough, life goes on.â -
Masklin felt the Abbotâs gaze on him. For someÐone who was invisible, he seemed to be attracting considerable attention.
ÎMy lord, it is rather more than that,â said Dorcas stiffly.
ÎOh? Did the electricity tell you?â said the Abbot mockingly.
Dorcas nudged Masklin in the ribs. ÎNow,â he said.
Masklin stepped forward and put the Thing down on the floor.
ÎNow,â he whispered.
ÎAm I in the presence of community leaders?â said the Thing.
ÎAbout as much as you ever will be,â said Dorcas. The Abbot stared at the box.
ÎI will use small words,â said the Thing. ÎI am the Flight Recording and Navigation Computer. A computer is a machine that thinks. Think, computer, think. See the computer think. I use elec- tricity. Sometimes elec-tricity can carry messÐages. I can hear the messages. I can under-stand the messages. Sometimes the messages go along wires called telephone wires. Sometimes they are in other computers. There is a computer in the Store. It pays humans their wages. I can hear it think. It thinks: no more Store soon, no more payroll, no more accounts. The telephone wires they say, Is that Grimethorpe Demolition Co.?, can we discuss final arrangements for the demolition, all stock will be out by the twenty-Ðfirst÷â
ÎVery amusing,â said the Abbot. ÎHow did you make it?â
ÎI didnât make it, my lord. These people brought it here-â
Which people?â said the Abbot, looking straight through Masklln.
ÎWhat happens if I go and pull his nose?â whispered Granny, in a hoarse whisper.
ÎIt would be extremely painful,â said Dorcas.
ÎGood.â
ÎI mean, for you.â
The Abbot rose hesitantly to his feet.
ÎI am a tolerant nome,â he said. ÎYou speculate about things Outside, and I do not mind, I say it is good mental exercise. We wouldnât be nomes if we didnât sometimes allow our minds to wander. But to insist that it is real, that is not to be tolerated. Little tricksy toys ...Î He hobbled forward and brought one stick down sharply on the Thing, which buzzed. ÎIntolerable! There is nothing OutÐside, and no one to live in it! Life in other Stores, pah! Audience concluded! Be off with you.â
ÎI can stand an impact of two thousand five hundred tons,â said the Thing smugly, although no one took much notice.
ÎAway! Away!â shouted the Abbot, and Masklin saw that he was trembling.
That was the strange thing about the Store. Only a few days ago there werenât that many things you needed to know, and they mainly involved big hungry creatures and how to avoid them. Fieldcraft, Torrit had called it. Now it was beginning to dawn on Masklin that there was a different sort of knowledge, and it consisted of the things you needed to understand in order to survive among other nomes. Things like: be very careful when you tell people things they donât want to hear. And: the thought that they may be wrong makes people very angry.
Some of the lesser Stationeri ushered them hurriedly through the doorway. It was done quite expertly, without any of them actually touching
Masklinâs people or even looking them in the face. Several of them scattered hastily away from Torrit when he picked up the Thing and held it protecÐtively.
Finally Granny Morkieâs temper, which was never particularly long, shortened to vanishing point. She grabbed the nearest monk by his black robe and held him up inches in front of her nose. His eyes crossed frantically with the effort of not seeing her. She poked him violently in the chest.
ÎDo you feel my finger?â she demanded. ÎDo you feel it? Not here, am I?â
ÎIndigenous!â said Torrit.
The monk solved his immediate problem by giving a little whimper and fainting.
ÎLetâs get away from here,â said Dorcas hurÐriedly. ÎI suspect itâs only a small step between not seeing people and making sure they donât exist.â
ÎI donât understand,â said Grimma. ÎHow can people not see us?â
ÎBecause they know weâre from Outside,â said Masklin.
ÎBut other nomes can see us!â said Grimma, her voice rising. Masklin didnât blame her. He was beginning to feel a bit unsure too.
ÎI think thatâs because they donât know,â he said, Îor donât believe we really are Outsiders!â
ÎI ainât an Outsider!â said Torrit. ÎTheyâre all Insiders!â
ÎBut that means that the Abbot really does think weâre from Outside!â said Grimma. ÎThat means he believes weâre here and he canât see us! Whereâs the sense in that?â
ÎThatâs nomish nature for you,â said Dorcas.
ÎDonât see that it matters much,â said Granny, grimly. ÎCome three weeks and theyâll all be OutÐsiders. Serve them right. Theyâll have to go around not looking at themselves. See how they like that, eh?â She stuck her nose in the air. ÎHo, hexcuse me, Mr Abbot, went and tripped over hyou there, didnât see hyou hiâam sure...â
ÎIâm sure theyâd understand if only theyâd listen,â said Masklin.
ÎShouldnât think so,â said Dorcas, kicking at the dust. ÎSilly of me to think they would, really. The Stationeri never listen to new ideas.â
ÎExcuse me,â said a quiet voice behind them.
They turned, and saw one of the Stationeri standing there. He was young, and quite plump, with curly hair and a worried expression. In fact he was nervously twisting the corner of his robe.
ÎYou want me?â said Dorcas.
ÎEr. I was, er, I wanted to talk to the, er, Outsiders,â said the little man carefully. He bobbed
a curtsey in the direction of Torrit and Granny Morkie.
ÎYouâve got better eyesight than most, then,â said Masklin.
ÎEr, yes,â said the Stationeri. He looked back down the corridor. ÎEr, Iâd like to talk to you. Somewhere private.â
They shuffled around a floor joist.
ÎWell?â said Masklin.
ÎThat, er, thing that spoke,â said the Stationeri. ÎDo you believe it?â
ÎI think it canât actually tell lies,â said Masklin.
ÎWhat is it, exactly? Some kind of radio?â
Masklin gave Dorcas a hopeful look.
Thatâs a thing for making noise,â Dorcas explained loftily.
ÎIs it?â said Masklin, and shrugged. ÎI donât know. Weâve just had it a longtime. It says it came with nomes from a long way away, a long time ago. Weâve looked after it for generations, havenât we, Torrit.â
The old man nodded violently. ÎMy dad had it before me, and his father before him, and his father before him, and his brother at the same time as him, and their uncle before them÷â he began.
The Stationeri scratched his head.
ÎItâs very worrying,â he said. ÎThe humans are acting very strangely. Things arenât being replaced in the Store. Thereâs signs weâve never seen before. Even the Abbotâs worried, he canât work out what Arnold Bros (est. 1905) expects us to do. So, er. . .Î He bunched up his robe, untwisted it hurriedly, and went on. ÎIâm the Abbotâs assistant, you see. My name is Gurder. I have to do the things he canât do himself. So, er...â
Well, what?â said Masklin.
ÎCould you come with me? Please?â
ÎIs there food?â said Granny Morkie, who could always put her finger on the important points.
ÎWeâll certainly have some sent up,â said Gurder hurriedly. He backed off through the maze of joists and wiring. Please, follow me. Please.â
i. &nbs p; Yet there were some who said, We have seen Arnold Bros (est. 1905)âs new Signs in the Store, and we are Troubled for we Understand them not.
ii. &nbs p; For this is the Season that should be Christmas Fayre, and yet the Signs are not the Signs of Christmas Fayre;
iii. &nbs p; Nor are they January Sales, or Back to School Week, or Spring lnto Spring Fashions, or Summer BarÐgains, or other Signs we know in their Season;
iv. &nbs p; For the Signs say Clearance Sale. We are sorely Troubled.
From The Book of Nome, Complaints v.I-IV
Gurder, bobbing and curtseying, led them deeper into Stationeri territory. It had a musty smell. Here and there were stacks of what Masklin was told were books. He didnât fully understand what they were for,, but Dorcas obviously thought they were important.
ÎLook at Îem,â he said. ÎPowerful lot of stuff in there that we could find useful, and the Stationeri guard it like, like÷â
ÎLike something well guarded?â said Masklin.
ÎRight. Right. Thatâs exactly right. They keep
looking hard at Îem. Reading, they call it. But they donât understand any of it.â
There was a whirr from the Thing in Torritâs arms, and a few lights lit up.
ÎBooks are repositories of knowledge?â it said.
ÎThereâs said to be a lot in them,â said Dorcas.
ÎIt is vital that you obtain books,â said the Thing. ÎStationeri hold on to Îem,â said Dorcas. ÎUnless you know how to read books properly they inflame the brain, they say.â
ÎIn here, please,â said Gurder, shifting a cardÐboard barrier.
Someone was waiting for them, sitting stiffly on a pile of cushions with his back to them.
ÎAh. Gurder,â he said. ÎCome in. Good.â
It was the Abbot. He didnât turn around.
Masklin prodded Gurder. ÎIt was bad enough just now,â he said. ÎWhy are we doing this again?â
Gurder gave him a look which seemed to say:
Trust me, this is the only way.
ÎHave you arranged for some food, Gurder?â said the Abbot.
ÎMy lord, I was just÷â
ÎGo and do it now.â
ÎYes, my lord.â
Gurder gave Masklin another desperate look and scurried away.
The nomes stood sheepishly, wondering what was going to happen next.
The Abbot spoke.
ÎI am nearly fifteen years old,â he said. ÎI am older even than some departments in the Store. I have seen many strange things, and soon I am going to meet Arnold Bros (est. 1905) in the hope that I have been a good and dutiful nome. I am so old that there are nomes who think that in some way I am the Store, and fear that when I am gone the Store will end. Now you tell me this is so. Who is in charge?â
Masklin looked at Torrit. But everyone else looked at him.
ÎWell, er,â he said. ÎMe. I suppose. Just for the moment.â
ÎThatâs right,â said Torrit, relieved. ÎJust for the moment Iâm puttinâ him in charge, see. Because Iâm the leader.â
The Abbot nodded.
ÎA very wise decision,â he said. Torrit beamed.
ÎStay here with the talking box,â said the Abbot to Masklin. ÎThe rest of you, please go. There will be food brought to you. Please go and wait.â
ÎUrn,â said Masklin, Îno.â
There was a pause.
Then the Abbot said, quite softly, ÎWhy not?â
ÎBecause, you see, urn, weâre all together,â said Masklin. ÎWeâve never been split up.â
ÎA very commendable sentiment. Youâll find, however, that life doesnât work like that. Come, now. I can hardly harm you, can I?â
ÎYou talk to him, Masklin,â said Grimma. We wonât be far away. Itâs not important.â
He nodded reluctantly.
When they had left, the Abbot turned around. Close to, he was even older than he had looked before. His face wasnât just wrinlded, it was one big wrinlde. He was middle-aged when old Torrit was born, Masklin told himself. Heâs old enough to be Granny Morkieâs grandfather!
The Abbot smiled. It was a difficult smile. It was as if heâd had smiling explained to him but had never had chance to practice.
ÎYour name, I believe, is Masklin,â he said.
Masklin couldnât deny it.
ÎI donât understand!â he said. ÎYou can see me! Ten minutes ago you said I didnât even exist and now youâre talking to me!â
ÎThere is nothing strange about it,â said the Abbot. ÎTen minutes ago it was official. Goodness me, I canât go around letting people believe that Iâve been wrong all along, can I? The Abbots have been denying there is anything Outside for genÐerations. I canât suddenly say they were all wrong. People would think Iâve gone mad.â
Would they?â said Masklin.
ÎOh, yes. Politics, you see. Abbots canât go changing their minds all the time. Youâll find this out. The important thing about being a leader is not being right or wrong, but being certain. Otherwise people wouldnât know what to think. Of course, it helps to be right as well,â the Abbot conceded. He leaned back.
ÎThere were terrible wars in the Store, once,â he said. ÎTerrible wars. A terrible time. Nome against nome. Decades ago, of course. It seemed that there was always some nome who thought his family should rule the Store. The Battle of the Freight Elevator, the Goods Inwards Campaign, the dreadful Mezzanine Wars. . . But thatâs past, now. And do you know why?â
ÎNo,â said Masklin.
ÎWe stopped it. The Stationeri. By cunning and common sense and diplomacy. We made them see that Arnold Bros (est. 1905) expects nomes to be at peace with one another. Now then. Supposing that I, in there, had said I believed you. People would have thought, the old boy has gone off his head:â The Abbot chuckled. ÎAnd then theyâd have said, have the Stationeri been wrong all this time? They would have panicked. Well, of course, that would never do. We must hold the nomes together. You know how they bicker at every opportunity.â
ÎThatâs true,â said Masklin. ÎAnd they always blame you for everything and say, whatâre you going to do about it?'
ÎYouâve noticed, have you?â said the Abbot, smiling. ÎIt seems to me that you have exactly the right qualification for being a leader.â
ÎI donât think so!â
ÎThatâs what I mean. You donât want to be one. I didnât want to be Abbot.â He drummed his fingers on his walking stick, and then looked sharply at Masklin.
ÎPeople are always a lot more complicated than you think,â he said. ÎItâs very important to rememÐber that.â
ÎI will,â said Masklin, not knowing what else to say.
ÎYou donât believe in Arnold Bros (est. 1905), do you?â &aid the Abbot. It was more a statement than a question.
ÎWell, er÷â
ÎIâve seen him, you know. When I was a boy. I climbed all the way up to Consumer Accounts, by myself and hid, and I saw him at his desk writing.â
ÎOh?â
ÎHe had a beard.â
ÎOh.â
The Abbot drummed his fingers on his stick. He seemed to be making up his mind about something. Then he said, ÎHmm. Where was your home?â
Masklin told him. Funnily, it seemed a lot better now he looked back on it. More summers
than winters, more nuts than rat. No bananas or electric or carpets, but plenty of fresh air. And in memory there didnât seem to be as much drizzle and frost. The Stationeri listened politely.
ÎIt was a lot better when we had more people,â Masklin finished. He glanced at his feet. ÎYou could come and stay. When the Store is demoÐthinged.â
The Abbot laughed. ÎIâm not sure Iâd fit in,â he said. ÎIâm not sure I want to believe in your Outside. It sounds cold and dangerous. Anyway, I shall be going on a rather more mysterious journey. And now, please excuse me, I must rest.â He thumped on the floor with his stick. Gurder appeared as if by magic.
ÎTake Masklin away and educate him a little,â said the Abbot, Îand then the both of you come back here. But leave that black box, please. I wish to learn more about it. Put it on the floor.â
Masklin did so. The Abbot poked it with his stick.
ÎBlack box,â he said, Îwhat are you, and what is your purpose?â
ÎJam the Flight Recorder and Navigation ComÐputer of the starship Swan. I have many functions. My current major function is to guide and advise those nomes shipwrecked when their scout ship crashed here fifteen thousand years ago.â
ÎIt talks like this all the time,â said Masklin apologetically.
ÎWho are these nomes of which you speak?â said the Abbot.
ÎAll nomes.â
ÎIs that your only purpose?â
ÎI have also been given the task of keeping nomes safe and taking them home.â
ÎVery commendable,â said the Abbot. He looked up at the other two.
'Run along, then,â he commanded. ÎShow him a little of the world, Gurder. And then I shall have a task for both of you.â
Educate him a little, the Abbot had said.
That meant starting with The Book of Nome, which consisted of pieces of paper sewn together with marks on them.
ÎHumans use it for cigarettes,â said Gurder, and read the first dozen verses. They listened in silence, and then Granny Morkie said, ÎSo this Arnold Bros÷â
Î÷(est. 1905)÷â said Gurder primly.
Whatever,â said Granny. ÎHe built the Store just for nomes?â
ÎEr. Ye-ess,â said Gurder, uncertainly.
ÎWhat was here before, then?â said Granny.
ÎThe Site.â Gurder looked uncomfortable. ÎYou see, the Abbot says there is nothing outside the Store. Urn.â
ÎBut weâve come÷â
ÎHe says that tales of Outside are just dreams.â
ÎSo when I said all that about where we lived, he was just laughing at me?â said Masklin.
ÎIt is often very hard to know what the Abbot really believes,â said Gurder. ÎI think most of all he believes in Abbots.â
ÎYou believe us, donât you?â said Grimma. Gurder nodded, half-hesitantly.
ÎIâve often wondered where the lorries go, and where the humans come from,â he said. ÎThe Abbot gets very angry when you mention it, though. The other thing is, thereâs been a new season. That means something. Some of us have been watching humans, and when thereâs a new season something unusual is happening.â
ÎHow can you have seasons when you donât know about weather?â said Masklin.
Weather has got nothing to do with seasons. Look, someone can take the old people down to the Food Hall, and Iâll show you two. Itâs all very odd. But÷â and now Gurderâs face was a picture of misery Î÷Arnold Bros (est. 1905) wouldnât destroy the Store, would he?â
iii. And Arnold Bros (est. 1905) said, Let there be Signs, so that All within shall know the Proper Running of the Store.
iv. On the Moving Stairs, let the Sign Be: Dogs and Pushchairs Must be Carried;
v. And Arnold Bros (est. 1905) waxed wroth, for many carried neither dog nor pushchair;
vi. On the Lifts, let the Sign Be: This Lift to Carry Ten Persons;
vii. And Arnold Bros (est. 1905) waxed wroth, for oftimes the Lifts carried only two or three;
viii. And Arnold Bros (est. 1905) said, Truly Humans are Stupid, who do not understand plain language.
From The Book of Nome, Regulations v.III-VIII
It was a long walk through the busy underfloor world.
They found that Stationeri could go where they liked. The other departments didnât fear them, because the Stationeri werenât a true department. There were no women and children, for one thing.
ÎSo people have to join?â said Masklin.
We are selected,â Gurder corrected. ÎSeveral intelligent boys from each department every year. But when youâre a Stationeri, you have to forget about your department and serve the whole Store.â
Why canât women be Stationeri, then?â said Grimma.
ÎItâs a well-known fact that women canât read,â said Gurder. ÎItâs not their fault, of course. ApparÐently their brains get too hot. With the strain, you know. Itâs just one of those things.â
ÎFancy,â said Grimma. Masklin glanced sideÐways at her. Heâd heard her use that sweet, innocent tone of voice before. It meant that, pretty soon, there was going to be trouble.
Trouble or not, it was amazing the effect that Gurder had on people. They would stand aside and bow slightly as he went past, and one or two of them held small children up and pointed him out. Even the guards at the border-crossings touched their helmets respectfully.
All around them was the bustle of the Store moving through time. Thousands of nomes, Masklin thought. I didnât even think there were any numbers that big. A world made up of people.
He remembered hunting alone, running along the deep furrows in the big field behind the motorway. There was nothing around but earth and flints, stretching into the distance. The whole sky was an upturned bowl with him at the centre.
Here, he felt that if he turned round suddenÐly he would knock someone over. He wondered what it would be like, living here and never knowing anywhere else. Never being cold, never being wet, never being afraid.
You might start thinking it was never possible to be anything else...
He was vaguely aware that theyâd gone up a slope and out through another gap into the big emptiness of the Store itself. It was night ÷Closing Time ÷ but there were bright lights in the sky, except that heâd have to start learning to call it the ceiling.
ÎThis is the Haberdashery Department,â said Gurder. ÎNow, do you see the sign hanging up there?â
Masklin peered into the misty distance and nodded. He could see it. It had huge red letter shapes ona white banner.
ÎIt Îshould say Christmas Fayre,â said the Stationeri. ÎThatâs the right season, it comes after Summer Bonanza and before Spring Into Spring Fashions. But instead it says-â Gurder narrowed his eyes, and his lips moved soundlessÐly for a moment Î÷Final Reductions. Weâve been wondering what that means.â
ÎThis is just a thought,â said Grimma, sarcasÐtically, Îitâs only a small idea, you understand. I expect big ideas would make my head explode. But doesnât it mean, well, everything is finally being reduced?â
ÎOh, it canât mean anything as simple as that. You have to interpret these signs,â said Gurder. ÎOnce they had one saying Fire Sale, and we didnât see them sell any fire.â
What do all the other things say?â said Masklin. Everything being Finally Reduced was too horriÐble to think about.
Well, that one over there says Everything Must Go,â said Gurder. ÎBut that turns up every year. Itâs Arnold Bros (est. 1905)âs way of telling us that we must lead good lives because we all die eventually. And those two over there, theyâre always there too.â He looked solemn. ÎNo one really believes them any more. There were wars over them, years ago. Silly superstition, really. I mean, I donât think there is a monster called Prices Slashed who walks around the Store at night, seeking out bad people. Itâs just something to frighten naughty children with.â
Gurder bit his lip. ÎThereâs another odd thing,â he said. ÎSee those things against the wall? Theyâre called shelves. Sometimes humans take things off them, sometimes they put things on them. But just lately ... well, they just take things away.â
Some of the shelves were empty.
Masklin wasnât too familiar with the subtleties of human behaviour. Humans were humans, in the same way that cows were just cows. ObviÐously there was some way that other cows or humans told them apart, but heâd never been able to spot it. If there was any sense in anyÐthing they did, heâd never been able to work it out.
ãEverything Must Goä,â he said.
ÎYes, but not go,â said Gurder. ÎNot actually go. You donât really think it means actually go, do you? Iâm sure Arnold Bros (est. 1905) wouldnât allow it. Would he?â
ÎCouldnât rightly say,â said Masklin. ÎNever heard of him till we came here.â
ÎOh, yes,â said Gurder, in a meek voice. ÎFrom Outside, you said. It sounded very interestÐing. And nice.â
Grimma took Masklinâs hand and squeezed it gently.
ÎItâs nice here, too,â she said. He looked surÐprised.
Well, it is,â she said defiantly. ÎYou know the others think so, too. Itâs warm and thereâs amazÐing food, even if they have funny ideas about womenâs brains.â She turned back to Gurder. Why canât you ask Arnold Bros (eat. 1905) what is going on?â
ÎOh, I donât think we should do that!â said Gurder hurriedly.
ÎWhy not? Makeâs sense, if heâs in charge,â said Masklin. ÎHave you ever even seen Arnold Bros (eat. 1905)?â
ÎThe Abbot did, once. When he was young he climbed all the way up to Consumer Accounts. He doesnât talk about it, though.â
Masklin thought hard about this as they walked back. There had never been any religion or politics back home. The world was just too big
Êto worry about things like that. But he had serious doubts about Arnold Bros (est. 1905). After all, if he had built the Store for nomes, why hadnât he made it nome-sized? But, he thought, it was probably not the time to ask
r questions like that.
If you thought hard enough, heâd always considered, you could work out everything. The wind, for example. It had always puzzled him until the day heâd realized that it was caused by all the trees waving about.
They found the rest of the group near theÊ Abbotâs quarters. Food had been brought up for them. Granny Morkie was explaining to a couple of baffled Stationeri that the pineapples werenât a patch on the ones she used to catch at home.
Torrit looked up from a hunk of bread.
ÎEveryoneâs been looking for you two,â he said. ÎThe Abbot fellow wants you. This breadâs soft. You donât have to spit on it like the bread we had at ho÷â
ÎNever you mind going on about that!â snapped Granny, suddenly full of loyalty for the old hole.
ÎWell, itâs true,â muttered Torrit. We never had stuff like this. I mean, all these sausages and meat in big lumps, not stuff you have to kill, no ferreting around in dirty bins...â
He saw the others glaring at him, and lapsed into shame-faced muttering.
ÎShut up, you daft old fool,â said Granny. Well, we dint have no foxes, I expect?â said Torrit. ÎLike Mrs Coom and my old mate Mert, they never÷â
Her furious glare finally worked. His face went white.
ÎIt just wasnât all sunshine,â he whispered, shaking his head. ÎNot all sunshine, thatâs all Iâm saying.â
What does he mean?â said Gurder, brightly. ÎHe donât mean nothing,â snapped Granny. ÎOh.â Gurder turned to Masklin. ÎI know what a fox is,â he said. ÎI can read Human books, you know. Quite well. I read a book called÷â he hesiÐtated Î÷Our Furry Friends, I think it was. A handsome and agile hunter, the red fox scavÐenges carrion, fruit and small rodents. It ÷ Iâm sorry, is something wrong?â
Torrit was choking on his bread while the others slapped him hurriedly on the back. Masklin took the young Stationeri by the arm and quickly walked him away.
Was it something I said?â said Gurder.
ÎIn a way,â said Masklin. ÎAnd now I think the Abbot wants to see us, doesnât he?â
The old man was sitting very still, with the Thing on his lap, staring at nothing.
He paid them no attention when they came in. Once or twice his fingers drummed on the Thingâs black surface.
ÎSir?â said Gurder, after a while.
ÎHmm?â
ÎYou wanted to see us, sir?â
ÎAh,â said the Abbot vaguely. ÎYoung Gurder, isnât it?â
ÎYes, sir!â
ÎOh. Good.â
There was silence. Gurder coughed politely. ÎYou wanted to see us, sir?â he repeated. ÎAh.â The Abbot nodded gently. ÎOh. Yes. You, there. The young man with the spear.â
ÎMe?â said Masklin.
ÎYes. Have you spoken to this, this thing?â The Thing? Well, in a way. It talks funny, though. Itâs hard to understand.â
ÎIt has talked to me. It has told me it was made by nomes, a long time ago. It eats electric. It says it can hear electric things. It has said÷â he glaredÊ at the thing in his lap Î÷it has said that it has heard Arnold Bros (est. 1905) plans to demolish the Store. It is a mad thing, it talks about stars, it says we came from a star, flying. But.. . there is talk of strange events. I wonder to myself, is this a messenger from the Management, sent to warn us? Or is it a trap set by Prices Slashed? So!â He thumped the Thing with a wrinkled hand. We must ask Arnold Bros (eat 1905). We will learn his truth.â
ÊÎBut, sir!â Gurder burst out. ÎYouâre far too ÷I mean, it wouldnât be right for you to go all the way to the Top again, itâs a terrible dangerous journey!â
ÎQuite so, boy. So you will go instead. You can read Human, and your boisterous friend with the spear can go with you.â
Gurder sagged to his knees. ÎSir? All the way to the Top? But I am not worthy÷â His voice faded away.
The Abbot nodded. ÎNone of us are,â he said. ÎWe are all Shop-soiled. Everything Must Go. Now be off, and may Bargains Galore go with you.â
Whoâs Bargains Galore?â said Masklin, as they went out.
ÎSheâs a servant of the Store,â said Gurder, who was still trembling. ÎSheâs the enemy of the dreadful Prices Slashed, who wanders the corridors at night with his terrible shining l-ight, to catch evil nomes!â
ÎItâs a good job you donât believe in him, then,â said Masklin.
ÎOf course I donât,â agreed Gurder.
ÎYour teeth are chattering, though.â
ÎThatâs because my teeth believe in him. And so do my knees. And my stomach. Itâs only my head that doesnât, and itâs being carried around by a load of superstitious cowards. Excuse me, Iâll go and collect my things. Itâs very important that we set out at once.â
Why?â said Masklin.
ÎBecause, if we. wait any longer, Iâll be too scared to go.â
The Abbot sat back in his chair.
ÎTell me again,â he said, Îabout how we came
here. You mentioned a colour. Mauve, wasnât it?â
ÎMarooned,â said the Thing.
ÎAh, yes. From something that flew.â
ÎA galactic survey ship,â said the Thing.
ÎBut it got broken, you said.â
ÎThere was a fault in one of the everywhere-engines. it meant we could not return to the main ship. Can it be that this is forgotten? in the early days we managed to communicate with humans, but the different metabolic rates and time sense eventually made this impossible. It was hoped originally that humans could be taught enough science to build us a new ship, but they were too slow. In the end we had to teach them the very basic skills, such as metallurgy, in the hope that they might eventually stop fighting one another long enough to take an interest in space travel.â
ÎMetal Urgy.â The Abbot turned the word over and over. Metal urgy. The urge to use metals. That was humans, all right. He nodded. ÎWhat was that other thing you said we taught them? Began with a G.â
The Thing appeared to hesitate, but it was learning how to talk to nomes now. ÎAgriculture?â it said.
ÎThatâs right. A Griculture. Important, is it?â
Îit is the basis of civilization.â
ÎWhat does that mean?â
ÎIt means ãyesä.â
The Abbot sat back while the Thing went on talking. Strange words washed over him, like planets and electronics. He didnât know what they meant, but they sounded right. Nomes had taught humans. Nomes came from a long way away. From a distant star, apparently.
The Abbot didnât find this astonishing. He didnât get about much these days, but he had seen the stars in his youth. Every year, around the season of Christmas Fayre, stars would appear in most of the departments. Big ones, with lots of pointy bits and glitter on them, and lots of lights. Heâd always been very impressed by them. It was quite fitting that they should have belonged to nomes, once. Of course, they werenât out all the time, so presumably there was a big store-room somewhere, where the stars were kept.
The Thing seemed to agree with this. The big room was called the galaxy. It was somewhere above Consumer Accounts.
And then there were these Îlight yearsâ. The Abbot had seen nearly fifteen years go past, and they had seemed quite heavy at the time ÷ full of problems, swollen with responsibilities. Lighter ones would have been better. ÐAnd so he smiled, and nodded, and listened,
and fell asleep as the Thing talked and talked and talked...
xxi. But Arnold Bros (est. 1905) said, This is the Sign I give you:
xxii. If You Do Not See What You Require, Please Ask.
From The Book of Nome, Regulations v.XXI -XXII
ÎShe canât come,â said Gurder.
ÎWhy not?â said Masklin.
ÎWell, itâs dangerous.ä
ÎSo?â Masklin looked at Grimma, who was wearÐing a defiant expression.
ÎYou shouldnât take girls anywhere dangerous,â said Gurder virtuously.
Once again Masklin got the feeling heâd come to recognize often since heâd arrived in the Store. They were talking, their mouths were opening and shutting, every word by itself was perfectÐly understandable, but when they were all put together they made no sense at all. The best thing to do was ignore them. Back home, if women werenât to go anywhere dangerous, they wouldnât go anywhere.
ÎIâm coming,â said Grimma. ÎWhat danger is there, anyway? Only this Price Slasher, and÷â
ÊÎAnd Arnold Bros (est. 1905) himself,â said Gurder nervously.
Well, Iâm going to come anyway. People donât need me and thereâs nothing to do,â said Grimma. What can happen, anyway? Itâs not as if something terrible could happen,â she added sarcastically, Îlike me reading something and my brain overheating, for example.â
ÎNow, Iâm sure I didnât say÷â said Gurder weakly.
ÎI bet the Stationeri donât do their own washing,â said Grimma. ÎOr darn their own socks. I bet÷â
ÎAll right, all right,â said Gurder, backing away. ÎBut you mustnât lag behind, and you mustnât get in the way. Weâll make the decisions, all right?â
He gave Masklin a desperate look.
ÎYou tell her she mustnât get in the way,â he said.
ÎMe?â said Masklin. ÎIâve never told her anyÐthing.â
The journey was less impressive than heâd expected. The old Abbot had told of staircases that moved, fire in buckets, long empty corridors with nowhere to hide.
But since then, of course, Dorcas had put the lifts in. They only went as far as Kiddies Klothes and Toys, but the Kiothians were a friendly people who had adapted well to life on a high floor and always welcomed the rare travellers who came with tales of the world below.
ÎThey donât even come down to use the Food Hall,â said Gurder. ÎThey get everything they want from the Staff rest-room. They live on tea and biscuits, mainly. And yoghurt.â
ÎHow strange,â said Grimma.
Theyâre very gentle,â said Gurder. ÎVery thoughtÐful. Very quiet. A little bit mystical, though. It must be all that yoghurt and tea.â
ÎI donât understand about the fire in buckets, though,â said Masklin.
ÎEr,â said Gurder, Îwe think that the old Abbot might, er, we think his memory... after all, he is extremely old...â
ÎYou donât have to explain,â said Grimma. ÎOld Torrit can be a bit like that.â
ÎItâs just that his mind is not as sharp as it was,â said Gurder.
Masklin said nothing. It just seemed to him that, if the Abbotâs mind was a bit blunt now, it must once have been sharp enough to cut the breeze.
The Kiothians gave them a guide to take them through the outlying. regions of the underfloor. There were few nomes this high up. Most of them preferred the busy floors below.
It was almost like being outside. Faint breezes blew the dust into grey drifts; there was no light except what filtered through from odd cracks. In the darkest places the guide had to light matches. He was a very small nome, who smiled a lot in a shy way and said nothing at all when Grimma tried to talk to him.
ÎWhere are we going?â said Masklin, looking back at their deep footprints.
ÎTo the moving stairs,â said Gurder.
ÎMove? How do they move? Bits of the Store move around?â
Gurder chuckled patronizingly.
ÎOf course, all this is new to you. You mustnât worry if you donât understand everything,â he said.
ÎDo they move or donât they?â said Grimma. ÎYouâll see. Itâs the only one we use, you know. Itâs a bit dangerous. You have to be topsides, you see. Itâs not like the lifts.â
The little Klothian pointed forward, bowed and hurried away.
Gurder led them up through a narrow crack in the ancient floorboards, into the bright emptiness of a passageway, and there÷
÷the moving stair.
Masklin watched it hypnotically. Stairs rose out of the floor, squeaking eerily as they did so, and whirred up into the distant heights.
ÎWow,â he said. It wasnât much, but it was all that he could think of.
ÎThe Klothians wonât go near it,â said Gurder. ÎThey think it is haunted by spirits.â
ÎI donât blame them,â said Grimma, shivering. ÎOh, itâs just superstition,â said Gurder. His face was white and there was a tremble in his voice. ÎThereâs nothing to be frightened of,â he squeaked.
Masklin peered at him.
ÎHave you ever been here before?â he asked. ÎOh, yes. Millions of times. Often,â said Gurder, picking up a fold of his robe and twisting it between his fingers.
ÎSo what do we do now?â
Gurder tried to speak slowly but his voice began to go faster and faster of its own accord:
ÎYou know, the Klothians say that Arnold Bros (est. 1905) waits at the top, you know, and when nomes die-â
Grimma looked reflectively at the rising stairs, and shivered again. Then she ran forward.
ÎWhatâre you doing?â said Masklin.
ÎSeeing if theyâre right!â she snapped. ÎOtherÐwise weâll be here all day!â
Masklin ran after her. Gurder gulped, looked behind him, and scurried after both of them.
Masklin saw her run towards the rising bulk of a stair, and then the floor below her came up and she was suddenly rising, wobbling as she fought for balance. The floor below him pushed against his feet and he rose after her, one step below.
ÎJump down!â he shouted. You canât trust ground that moves by itself!â
Her pale face peered over the edge of her stair.
ÎWhat good will that do?â she said.
Then we can go and talk about it!â
She laughed. ÎGo where? Have you looked down lately?â
Masklin looked down.Ê
He was already several stairs up. The distant figure of Gurder, his face just a blob, screwed up his courage and jumped on to a step of his own...
Arnold Bros (est. 1905) was not waiting at the top.
It was simply a long brown corridor lined with doors. There were words painted on some of them.
But Grimma was waiting. Masklin waved a finger at her as he staggered off his stair, which mysteriously folded itself down into the floor.
ÎNever, ever, do anything like that again!â he shouted.
ÎIf I hadnât, youâd still be at the bottom. You could see Gurder was scared out of his wits!â she snapped.
ÎBut there could have been all sorts of dangers up here!â
ÎLike what?â said Grimma haughtily.
Well, there could be ...Î Masklin hesitated. ÎThatâs not the point, the point is÷â
At this point Gurderâs stair rolled him almost to their feet. They picked him up.
ÎThere,â said Grimma brightly. Weâre all here, and everythingâs perfectly all right, isnât it.â
Gurder stared around him. Then he coughed, and adjusted his clothes.
ÎI lost my balance there,â he said. ÎTricky, these moving stairs. But you get used to them eventuÐally.â He coughed again, and looked along the corridor. ÎWell, weâd better get a move on,â he said.
The three nomes crept forward, past the rows of doors.
ÎDoes one of these belong to Prices Slashed?â said Grimma. Somehow, the name sounded far worse up here.
ÎUrn, no,â said Gurder. ÎHe dwells among the furnaces in the basement.â He squinted up at the nearest door. ÎThis one is called Salaries,â he said.
ÎIs that good or bad?â said Grimma, staring at the word on the varnished wood.
ÎDonât know.â
Masklin brought up the rear, turning slowÐly to keep all the corridor in view. It was too open. There was no cover, nothing to hide behind.
He pointed to a row of giant red things hanging halfway up the opposite wall. Gurder whispered that they were buckets.
ÎThereâs pictures of them in Colin and Susan Go to the Seaside,â he confided.
ÊÎWhatâs that written on them?â
Gurder squinted.â ãFireä,â he said. ÎOh, my. The Abbot was right. Buckets of fire!â
ÎFire in buckets?â said Masklin. ÎBuckets of fire? I canât see any flames.â
ÎThey must be inside. Perhaps thereâs a lid. Thereâs beans in bean tins, and jam in jam jars. There should be fire in fire buckets,â said Gurder vaguely. ÎCome on.â
Grimma stared at this word, too. Her lips moved silently as she repeated it to herself. Then she hurried after the other two.
Eventually they reached the end of the corridor. There was another door there, with glass in the top half.
Gurder stared up at it.
ÎI can see thereâs words,â said Grimma. ÎRead them out. Iâd better not look at them,â she added sweetly, Îin case my brain goes bang.â
Gurder swallowed. ÎThey say ãArnold Bros (est. 1905). D.H.K. Butterthwaite, General Manager.ä Er.â
ÎHeâs in there?â she said.
ÎWell, thereâs beans in bean tins and fire in fire buckets,â said Masklin helpfully. ÎThe doorâs not shut, look. Want me to go and see?â
Gurder nodded wretchedly. Masklin walked over to the door, leaned against it, and pushed it until his arms ached. Eventually it swung in a little way.
There was no light inside, but by the faint glow from the corridor through the glass he could see he was entering a large room. The carpet was much thicker it was like wading through grass. Several meters away was a large rectangular wooden thing; as he walked around it he saw a chair behind it. Perhaps this was where Arnold Bros (est. 1905) sat.
ÎWhere are you, Arnold Bros (est. 1905)?â he whispered.
Some minutes later the other two heard him calling softly. They peered around the door.
ÎWhere are you?â hissed Grimma.
ÎUp here,â came Masklinâs voice. ÎThis big woodÐen thing. Thereâs sticking-out bits you can climb on. Thereâs all kinds of things up here. Careful of the carpet, there could be wild animals in it. If you wait a minute, I can help you up.â
They waded through the deep pile of the carpet and waited anxiously by the wooden cliff.
ÎItâs a desk,â said Gurder, loftily. ÎThereâs lots of them in Furnishing. Amazing Value in Genuine One Hundred Per Cent Oak Veneer.â
Whatâs he doing up there?â said Grimma. ÎI can hear clinking noises.â
ÎA Must In Every Home,â said Gurder, as if sayÐing the words gave him some comfort. ÎWide Choice of Styles to Suit Every Pocket.â
ÎWhat are you talking about?â
ÎSorry. Itâs the sort of thing Arnold Bros (est. 1905) writes on the signs. I just feel better for saying it.â
Whatâs that other thing up there?â
He looked where she was pointing. ÎThat? Itâs a chair. Swivelled Finish For That Executive Look.â
ÎIt looks big enough for humans,â she said thoughtfully.
ÎI expect humans. sit there when Arnold Bros (est. 1905) is giving them their instructions.â
ÎHmm,â she said.
There was a clinking noise by her head.
ÎSorry,â Masklin called down. ÎIt took me a while to hook them together.â
Gurder looked up at the heights, and the gleamÐing chain that now hung down.
ÎPaperclips,â he said, amazed. ÎI never would have thought it.â
When they clambered to the top they found Masklin wandering across the shiny surface, prodding things with his spear. This was paper, Gurder explained airily, and things for making marks.
ÎWell, Arnold Bros (est. 1905) doesnât seem to be around,â Masklin said. ÎPerhaps heâs gone to bed, or whatever.â
ÎThe Abbot said he saw him here one night, sitÐting at the desk right here,â said Gurder. ÎWatching over the Store.â
ÎWhat, sitting on that chair?â said Grimma.
ÎI suppose so.â
ÎSo heâs big, then, is he?â Grimma pressed on relentlessly. ÎSort of human-sized?â
ÎSort of,â Gurder agreed reluctantly.
ÎHmm.â
Masklin found a cable as thick as his arm winding off across the top of the desk. He folÐlowed it.
ÎIf heâs human-shaped and human-sized,â said Grimma, Îthen perhaps heâs a÷â
ÎLetâs just see what we can find up here, shall we?â said Gurder hurriedly. He walked over to a pile of paper and started reading the top sheet by the dim light coming in from the corridor. He read slowly, in a very loud voice.
ÎãThe Arnco Group,äâ he read, ÎãincorporatÐing Arnco Developments (UK), United Television, Arnco-Schultz (Hamburg) AG, Arnco Airlines,
Arnco Recording, the Arnco Organization (CinÐemas) Ltd, Arnco Petroleum Holdings, Arnco Publishing, and Arnco UK Retailing plc.ä'
ÎGosh,â said Grimma flatly.
ÎThereâs more,â said Gurder excitedly, Îin much smaller letters, perhaps theyâre meant to be right for us. Listen to all these names: ãArnco UK Retailing plc includes Bonded Outlets Ltd, the Grimethorpe Dye and Paint Company, KwikÐKleen Mechanical Sweepers Ltd, and - and -and÷ä
ÎSomething wrong?â
Î÷ãArnold Bros (eat. 1905)ä.â Gurder looked up. What do you think it all means? Bargains Galore preserve us!â
There was a light. It skewered down on the two of them, white and searing, so that they stood over a black pool of their own shadows.
Gurder looked up in terror at the brilliant globe that had appeared above them.
ÎSorry, I think that was me,â said Masklinâs voice from the shadows. ÎI found this sort of lever thing and when I pushed it, it went click. Sorry.â
ÎAhaha,â said Gurder, mirthlessly. ÎAn electric light. Of course. Ahaha. Gave me quite a start for a moment.â
Masklin appeared in the circle of brightness, and looked at the paper.
ÎI heard you reading,â he said. ÎAnything interÐesting?â
Gurder pored over the print again. ãNotice to all Staff,äâ he read, ÎãI am sure we are all aware of the increasingly poor. finanÐcial performance of the store in recent years. This rambling old building, while quite suitable for the leisured shopper of 1905, is not appropriate
in the exciting world of the Nineties, and as we all know, there have unfortunately been marked
stock losses and a general loss of custom following the opening of newer major outlets in the town. I am sure our sorrow at the closure of Arnold Bros, which as you know was the foundation of the Arnco fortunes, will be lessened by the news of plans by the Group to replace it with an Arnco Super Saverstore in the Neil Armstrong Shopping Mall. To this end, the store will close at the end of the month, and will shortly be demolished to make way for an exciting new Arnco Leisure Complex. . .ã.Î
Gurder fell silent, and put his head in his hands.
ÎThereâs those words again,â said Masklin slowÐly. ÎClosure. Demolished.â
ÎWhatâs leisure?â said Grimma. The Stationeri ignored her.
Masklin took her gently by the arm.
ÎI think he wants to be alone for a while,â he said. He pulled the tip of his spear across the broad sheet of paper, creasing it, and folded it up until it was small enough to carry.
ÎI expect the Abbot will want to see it,â he said. ÎHeâll never believe us if we÷â
He stopped. Grimma was staring over his shoulÐder. He turned, and looked out through the glass part of the great door into the corridor beyond. There was a shadow out there. Human-shaped. And growing bigger.
What is it?â she said.
Masklin gripped the spear. ÎI think,â he said, Îit may be Prices Slashed.â
They turned and hurried over to Gurder.
ÎThereâs someone coming,â Masklin whispered. ÎGet down to the floor, quickly!â
ÎDemolished!â moaned Gurder, hugging himself and rocking from side to side. ÎEverything Must Go! Final Reductions! Weâre all doomed!â
ÎYes, but do you think you could go and be doomed on the floor?â said Masklin.
ÎHeâs not himself; you can see that,â said Grimma. ÎCome on,â she added, in a horribly cheerful voice. ÎUpsydaisy.â
She lifted him up bodily and helped him towards the rope of clips. Masklin followed them, walking backwards with his eye on the door.
He thought: he has seen the light. It should be dark in here now, and he has seen the light. But Iâll never get it off in time and anyway, it wonât make any difference. I donât believe in any demon called Prices Slashed and now, here he comes. What a strange world.
He sidled into the shade of a pile of paper, and waited.
He could hear Gurderâs feeble protests, down around floor level, suddenly stop. Perhaps Grimma had hit him with something. She had a way of taking obvious action in a crisis.
The door drifted open, very slowly. There was a figure there. It looked like a human in a blue suit. Masklin wasnât much of a judge of human expressions, but the man didnât look very happy. In one hand he held a metal tube. Light shone out of one end. His terrible light, Masklin thought.
The figure came closer, in that slow-motion, sleep- walking way that humans had. Masklin peered around the paper, fascinated despite himÐself. He looked up into a round, red face, felt the breath, saw the peaked hat.
Heâd learned that humans in the Store had their names on little badges, because heâd been told ÷they were so stupid they wouldnât remember them otherwise. This man had his name on his hat. Masklin squinted and made out the shape of the letters: S. . . E .. . C .. . U. . . R. . I. . . T ..Y. He had a white moustache.
The man straightened up and started to walk around the room. Theyâre not stupid, Masklin told himself. Heâs bright enough to know there shouldnât be a light on, and he wants to find out why. Heâs bound to see the others if he just looks in the right place. Even a human could see them.
He gripped his spear. The eyes, he thought, Iâd have to go for the eyes...
Security drifted dreamily around the room, examining cupboards and looking in corners. Then he headed back towards the door.
Masklin dared to breathe and, at that moment, Gurderâs hysterical voice came from somewhere below him.
ÎIt is Prices Slashed! Oh, Bargains Galore, save us! Weâre all mmphmmphmmph÷â
Security stopped. He turned back, a look of puzzlement spreading across his face as slowly as treacle.
Masklin shrunk further back into the shadows. This is it, then, he thought. If I can get a good run at him.
Something outside the door started to roar. It was almost a lorry noise. It didnât seem to worry the man, who just pulled the door open and looked out.
There was a human woman in the passage. She looked quite elderly, as far as Masklin was any judge, with a pink apron with flowers on it and carpet slippers on her feet. She held a duster in one hand, and with the other she was...
Well, it looked as though she was holding back a sort of roaring thing, like a bag on wheels. It kept rushing forward across the carpet, but she kept one hand on its stick and kept pulling it back.
While Masklin watched she gave the thing a kick. The roaring died away as Security started to talk to her. To Masklin the conversation sounded like a couple of foghorns having a fight.
Masklin ran to the edge of the desk and half climbed, half fell down the chain of clips. The other two were waiting in the shadow of the desk. Gurderâs eyes were rolling; Grimma had one hand clamped firmly over his mouth.
ÎLetâs get out of here while heâs not looking!â said Masklin.
ÎHow?â said Grimma. ÎThereâs only the doorway.â
ÎMmphmmph.â
Well, letâs at least get somewhere better than this.â Masklin stared around across the rolling acres of dark carpet. ÎThereâs a cupboard thing over there,â he said.
ÎMmphmmph!â
ÎWhat are we going to do with him?â
ÎLook,â said Masklin to Gurderâs frightened face. ÎYouâre not going to go on about doom, doom again, are you? Otherwise weâll have to gag you. Sorry.â
ÎMmph.â
Promise?â
ÎMmph.â
ÎOkay, you can take your hand away.â
ÎIt was Bargains Galore!â hissed Gurder excitÐedly.
Grimma looked up at Masklin. ÎShall I shut him up again?â she said.
ÎHe can say what he likes as long as he keeps
quiet,â said Masklin. ÎIt probably makes him feel better. Heâs had a bit of a shock.â
ÎBargains Galore came to protect us! With her great roaring Soul-Sucker...â Gurderâs brow wrinkled in puzzlement.
ÎIt was a carpet-cleaner, wasnât it?â he said slowly. ÎI always thought it was something magiÐcal and it was just a carpet- cleaner. Thereâs lotâs of them in Household Appliances. With Extra Suction for Deep-Down Carpet Freshness.â
ÎGood. Thatâs nice. Now, how do we get out of here?â
Some searching behind the fifing cabinets found a crack in the floorboards just big enough to squeeze through with difficulty. Getting back took half a day, partly because Gurder would occasionÐally sit down and burst into tears, but mainly because they had to climb down inside the wall itself. It was hollow and had wires and odd bits of wood in it, tied into place by the Klothians, but it was still a tedious job. They came out under KidÐdies Klothes. Gurder had pulled himself together by then, and haughtily ordered food and an escort.
And so at last they came back to the Stationery Department.
Just in time.
Granny Monkie looked up as they were ushered into the Abbotâs bedroom. She was sitting by the bed with her hands on her knees.
ÎDonât make any loud noises,â she ordered. ÎHeâs very ill. He says heâs dyinâ. I suppose he should know.â
ÎDying of what?â said Masklin.
ÎDyinâ of beinâ alive for such a long time,â said Granny.
The Abbot lay, wrinkled and even smaller than Masklin remembered him, among his pillows. He was clutching the Thing in two thin, claw-like hands.
He looked at Masklin and, with a great effort, beckoned him to come closer.
ÎYouâll have to lean oven,â Granny ordered. ÎHe canât talk above a croak, poor old soul.â
The Abbot gently grabbed Masklinâs ear and pulled it down to his mouth.
ÎA sterling woman,â he whispered. ÎMany fine qualities, I am sure. But please send her away before she gives me any more medicine.â
Masklin nodded, Grannyâs remedies, made from simple, honest and generally nearly poisonous herbs and roots, were amazing things. After one dose of stomach-ache jollop, you made sure you never complained of stomach ache ever again. In its way, it was a sort of cure.
ÎI canât send,â he said, Îbut I can ask.â
She went out, shouting instructions, to mix up another batch.
Gurder knelt down by the bed.
ÎYouâre not going to die, are you, sir?â he said.
ÎOf course I am. Everyone is. Thatâs what being alive is all about,â whispered the Abbot. ÎDid you see Arnold Bros (est. 1905)?â
Well. Er.â Gurder hesitated. ÎWe found some Writing, sir. Itâs true, it says the Store will be demolished. That means the end of everything, sir, whatever shall we do?â
ÎYou will have to leave,â said the Abbot.
Gurder looked horrified.
ÎBut youâve always said that everything outside the Stone could only be a dream!â
ÎAnd you never believed me, boy. And maybe I
was wrong. That young man with the spear, is he still here? I canât see very well.â
Masklin stepped forward.
ÎOh, there you are,â said the old nome. ÎThis box of yours.â
ÎYes?â said Masklin.
ÎTold me things. Showed me pictures. Storeâs a lot bigger than I thought, thereâs this room they keep the stars in, not just the glittery ones they hang from the ceiling at Christmas Fayre, but hundreds of the damn things. Itâs called the uniÐverse. We used to live in it, it nearly all belonged to us, it was our home. We didnât live under anyoneâs floor. I think Arnold Bros (est. 1905) is telling us to go back there.â
He reached out and his cold white finger gripped Masklinâs arm with surprising strength.
ÎI donât say youâre blessed with brains,â he said. ÎIn fact I reckon youâre the stupid but dutiful kind who gets to be leader when thereâs no glory in it. Youâre the kind who sees things through. Take them home. Take them all home.â
He slumped back on to the pillows, and shut his eyes.
ÎBut÷leave the Store, sir?â said Gurder. ÎThereâs thousands of us, old people and babies and everyÐone, where can we go? Thereâs foxes out there, Masklin says, and wind and hunger and water that drops out of the sky in bits! Sir? Sir?â
Grimma leaned over and felt the old nomeâs wrist.
ÎCan he hear me?â said Gurder.
ÎMaybe,â said Grimma. ÎPerhaps. But he wonât be able to answer you, because heâs dead.â
ÎBut he canât die! Heâs always been here!â said Gurder, aghast. ÎYouâve got it wrong. Sir? Sir!â
Masklin took the Thing out of the Abbotâs unresisting hands as other Stationeri, hearing Gurderâs voice, hurried in.
ÎThing?â he said quietly, walking away from the crowd around the bed,
ÎI hear you.â
ÎIs he dead?â
ÎI detect no life functions.â
What does that mean?â
ÎIt means ãyesä.â
ÎOh.â Masklin considered this. ÎI thought you had to be eaten or squashed first. I didnât think you just sort of stopped.â
The Thing didnât volunteer any information.
ÎAny idea what I should do now?â said Masklin. ÎGurder was right. They are not going to leave all this warmth and food. I mean, some of the youngsters might, for a lark. But if weâre going to survive outside weâll need lots of people. Believe me, I know what Iâm talking about. And what am I supposed to say to them: Sorry, youâve all got to leave it all behind?â
The Thing spoke.
ÎNo,â it said.
Masklin had never seen a funeral before. Come to that, heâd never seen a nome die from being alive too long. Oh, people had been eaten, or had never come back, but no one had simply come to an end.
Where do you bury your dead?â Gurder had asked. ÎInside badgers and foxes, often,â heâd replied, and hadnât been able to resist adding, ÎYou know. The handsome and agile hunters?â
This was how the nomes said farewell to their dead:
The body of the old Abbot was ceremoniously dressed in a green coat and a pointy red hat. His long white beard was carefully combed out and then he lay, peacefully, on his bed as Gurder read the service.
ÎNow that it has pleased you, Arnold Bros (est. 1905), to take our brother to your great Gardening Department beyond Consumer Accounts, where there is Ideal Lawn Edging and an Amazing Floral Display and the pool of eternal life in Easy-to-Lay Polythene with Real Crazy-Paving Edging, we will give him the gifts a nome must take on his journey.â
The Count de Ironmongri stepped forward. ÎI give him,â he said, laying an object beside the nome, Îthe Spade Of Honest Toil.â
ÎAnd I,â said the Duke de Haberdasheri, Îlay beside him the Fishing Rod of Hope.â
Other leading nomes brought other things: the Wheelbarrow of Leadership, the Shopping Basket of Life. Dying in the Store was quite complicated,
Masklin gathered.
Grimma blew her nose as Gurder completed the
service and the body was ceremoniously carried away.
To the sub-basement, they later learned, and the incinerator. Down in the realms of Prices Slashed, the Security, where he sat at night-times, legend said, and drank his horrible tea.
ÎThatâs a bit dreadful, I reckon,â said Granny Morkie, as they stood around aimlessly afterÐwards. ÎIn my young day, if a person died, we buried Îem. In the ground.â
ÎGround?â said Gurder.
ÎSort of floor,â explained Granny.
ÎThen what happened?â said Gurder.
Granny looked blank. ÎWhat?â she said.
ÎWhere did they go after that?â said the Stationeri patiently.
ÎGo? I donât reckon they went anywhere. Dead people donât get about much.â
ÎIn the Store,â said Gurder slowly, as if he was explaining things to a rather backward child, Îwhen a nome dies, if he has been a good nome, Arnold Bros (eat. 1905) sends them back to see us before they go to a Better Place.â
ÎHow can÷â Granny began.
ÎThe inner bit of them, I mean,â said Gurder. ÎThe bit inside you thatâs really you.â
They looked at him politely, waiting for him to make any sort of sense.
Gurder sighed. ÎAll right,â he said, ÎIâll get someÐone to show you.â
They were taken to the Gardening Department. It was a strange place, Masklin thought. It was like the world outside but with all the difficult bits taken away. The only light was the faint glow of indoor suns, which stayed on all night. There was no wind, no rain, and there never would be. There was grass, but it was just painted green sacking with bits sticking out of it. There were mountainÐous cliffs of nothing but seeds in packets, each one with a picture that Masklin suspected was quite unreal. They showed flowers, but flowers unlike any heâd ever seen before.
ÎIs the Outside like this?â said the young priest who was guiding them. ÎThey say, they say, er, they say youâve been there. They say youâve seen it.â He sounded hopeful.
ÎThere was more green and brown,â said MaskÐlin flatly.
ÎAnd flowers?â said the priest.
ÎSome flowers,â Masklin agreed. ÎBut not like these.â
ÎI seed flowers like these once,â said Torrit and then, unusually for him, fell silent.
They were led around the bulk of a giant lawnmower and there÷
÷were nomes. Tall, chubby-faced gnomes. PinkÐcheeked painted gnomes. Some of them held fishing rods or spades. Some of them were pushÐing painted wheelbarrows. And every single one of them was grinning.
The tribe stood in silence for some time.
Then Grimma said, very softly, ÎHow horrible.â
ÎOh, no!â said the priest, horrified. ÎItâs marvelÐlous! Arnold Bros (est. 1905) sends you back smart and new, and then you leave the Stone and go to a wonderful place!â
ÎThereâs no women,â said Granny. ÎThatâs a mercy, anyway.â
ÎAh, well,â said the priest, looking a bit embarÐrassed. ÎThatâs always been a bit of a debatable question, weâre not sure why but we think÷â
ÎAnd they donât look like anyone,â said Granny. They all look the same.â
Well, you see։
ÎCatch me coming back like that,â said Granny. ÎIf you come back like that, I donât want to go.â
The priest was almost in tears.
ÎNo, but÷â
ÎI saw one like these once.â It was old Torrit again. He looked very grey in the face and was trembling.
ÎYou shut up, you,â said Granny. ÎYou never saw nothing.â
ÎI did too,â said Torrit. ÎWhen I was a little lad.
Grandpa Dimpo took some of us right across the fields, right through the wood, and there was all these big stone houses where humans lived and they had little fields in front full of flowers like what they got here, and grass all short, and ponds with orange fish, and we saw one of these. It was sitting on a stone toadstool by one of these ponds.â
ÎIt never was,â said Granny, automatically.
ÎIt was anâ all,â said Torrit, levelly. ÎAnd I mind Grandpa sayinâ, ãThat ainât no life, out there in all weathers, birds doing their wossname on your hat and dogs widdlinâ all over you.ä He tole us it was a giant nome who got turned to stone on account of sitting there for so long and never catching no fish. And he said, ãWot a way to go, that ainât for me, lads, I want to go sudden like,ä and then a cat jumped out on him. Talk about laugh.â
What happened?â said Masklin.
ÎOh, we gave it a good seeing-to with our spears and picked him up and we all run like bu ÷ run very fast,â said Torrit, watching Grannyâs stern expression.
ÎNo, no!â wailed the priest. ÎItâs not like that at all!â and then he started to sob.
Granny hesitated for a moment, and then patted him gently on the back.
ÎThere, there,â she said. ÎDonât you worry about it. Daft old fool says any old thing that comes into his head.â
ÎI donât÷.-â Torrit began. Grannyâs warning look stopped him.
They went back slowly, trying to put the terrible stone images out of their minds. Torrit trailed along behind, grumbling like a worn-out thunderstorm.
ÊÎI did see it, Iâm telling you,â he whispered.
ÎDamn great grinning thing, it were, sitting on
a spotty stone mushroom. I did see it. Never
went back there, though. Better safe than sorry,
I always said. But I did see it.â
It seemed taken for granted by everyone that
Gurder was going to be the new Abbot. The old Abbot had left strict instructions. There didnât seem to be any argument.
The only one against the idea, in fact, was Gurder.
ÎWhy me?â he said. ÎI never wanted to lead anyÐone! Anyway ... you know ...Î He lowered his voice. ÎI have Doubts, sometimes. The old Abbot knew it, Iâm sure, I canât imagine why heâd think Iâd be any good.â
Masklin said nothing. It occurred to him that the Abbot might have had a very definite aim in mind. Perhaps it was time for a little doubt. PerÐhaps it was time to look at Arnold Bros (est.1905) in a different way.
They were off to one side in the big underfloor area the Stationeri used for important meetings; it was the one place in the Store, apart from the Food Hall, where fighting was strictly forbidden. The heads of the families, rulers of departmentsÊÊÊ and sub-departments, were milling around out there. They might not be allowed to bear weapons, but they were cutting one another dead at every opportunity.
Getting them to even think of working together would be impossible without the Stationeri. It was odd, really. The Stationeni had no real power at all, but all the families needed them and none of them feared them and so they survived and, in a strange sort of way, led. A Haberdasheri wouldnât listen even to common sense from an Irorimongri, on general principles, but they would if the speaker was a Stationeri because everyone knew the Stationeri didnât take sides.
He turned to Gurder.
ÎWe need to talk to someone in the Ironmongri. They control the electric, donât they? And the lorry nest.â
ÎThatâs the Count de Ironinongri over there,â said Gurder, pointing. ÎThin fellow with the mousÐtache. Not very religious. Doesnât know much about electric, though.â
ÎI thought you told me-â
ÎOh, the Ironmongri do. The underlings and servants and whatnot. But not people like the Count. Good heavens,â Gurder smiled. ÎYou donât think the Duke de Haberdasheri ever touches a pair of scissors, do you, or Baroness del Icatessen goes and cuts up food her actual self?â
He looked sideways at Masklin.
ÎYouâve got a plan, havenât you?â he said.
ÎYes. Sort of.â
What are you going to tell them, then?â
Masklin picked absently at the tip of his spear. ÎThe truth. Iâm going to tell them they can leave the Store and take it all with them. I think it should be possible.â
Gurder rubbed his chin. ÎHmm,â he said. ÎI supÐpose itâs possible. If everyone carries as much food and stuff as they can. But itâll soon run out and, anyway, you canât carry electric. It lives in wires, you know.â
ÎHow many Stationeri can read Human?â said Masklin, ignoring him.
ÎAll of us can read a bit, of course,â said Gurder.
ÊÎBut only four of us are any real good at it, if you must know.â
ÎI donât think thatâs going to be enough,â said Masklin.
Well, thereâs a trick to it, and not everyone can get the hang of it. What are you planning?â
ÎA way to get everyone, everyone, out. Carrying everything weâll ever need, ever,â said Masklin.
ÎTheyâll be squashed under the weight!â
ÎNot really. Most of what theyâll be carrying doesnât weigh anything at all.â
Gurder looked worried.
ÎThis isnât some mad scheme of Dorcasâs, is it?â he said.
ÎNo.â
Masklin felt that he might explode. His head wasnât big enough to hold all the things the Thing had told him.
And he was the only one. Oh, the Abbot had known, and died with his eyes full of stars, but even he didnât understand. The galaxy! The old man thought it was just a great big room outside the Store, just the biggest department ever. PerÐhaps Gurder wouldnât comprehend, either, Heâd lived all his life under a roof. He had no idea of the sort of distances involved.
Masklin felt a slight surge of pride at this. The Store nomes couldnât understand what the Thing was saying, because they had no experiences to draw on. To them, from one end of the Store to the other was the biggest possible distance in the world.
They wouldnât be able to get to grips with the fact that the stars, frâinstance, were much further away. Even if you ran all the way, itâd probably take weeks to reach them.
Heâd have to lead up to it gently.
The stars! And a long, long time ago nomes had travelled between them on things that made lorries look tiny ÷ and had been built by nomes. And one of the great ships, exploring around a little star on the edge of nowhere, had sent out a smaller ship to land on the world of the humans.
But something had gone wrong. Masklin hadnât understood that bit, except that the thing that moved the ships was very, very powerful. HunÐdreds of nomes had survived, though. One of them, searching through the wreckage, had found the Thing. It wasnât any good without electricity to eat, but the nomes had kept it, nevertheless, because it had been the machine that steered the ship.
And the generations had passed by, and the nomes forgot everything except that the Thing was very important.
That was enough for one head to carry, Masklin thought. But it wasnât the most important bit, it wasnât the bit that made his blood fizz and his fingers tingle.
This was the important bit. The big ship, the one that could fly between stars, was still up there somewhere. It was tended by machines like the Thing, patiently waiting for the nomes to come back. Time meant nothing to them. There were machines to sweep the long corridors, and machines that made food and watched the stars and patiently counted the hours and minutes in the long, dark emptiness of the ship.
And theyâd wait for ever. They didnât know what Time was, except something to be counted and filed away. Theyâd wait until the sun went cold and the moon died, carefully repairing the ship and keeping it ready for the nomes to come back.
To take them Home.
And while they waited, Masklin thought, we forgot all about them, we forgot everything about ourselves, and lived in holes in the ground.
He knew what he had to do. It was, of course, an impossible task. But he was used to them. Dragging a rat all the way from the wood to the hole had been an impossible task. But it wasnât impossible to drag it a little way, so you did that, and then you had a rest, and then you dragged it a little way again. . . The way to deal with an impossible task was to chop it down into a number of merely very difficult tasks, and break each one of them into a group of horribly hard tasks, and each one of them into tricky jobs, and each one of them...
Probably the hardest job of all was to make nomes understand what they once were and could be again.
He did have a plan. Well, it had started off as the Thingâs plan, but heâd turned it over and over in his mind so much he felt it belonged to him. It was probably an impossible plan. But heâd never know, unless he tried it.
Gurder was still watching him cautiously.
ÎEr,â Masklin said. ÎThis plan...â
ÎYes?â said Gurder.
ÎThe Abbot told me that the Stationeri have always tried to make nomes work together and stop squabbling,â said Masklin.
ÎThat has always been our desire, yes.â
ÎThis plan will mean theyâll have to work together.â
ÎGood.â
ÎOnly I don't think youâre going to like it much,â said Masklin.
Thatâs unfair! How can you make assumptions like that?â
ÎI think youâll laugh at it,â said Masklin.
ÎThe only way to find out is to tell me,â said Gurder.
Masklin told him. When Gurder was over the shock, he laughed and laughed.
And then he looked at Masklinâs face, and stopped.
ÎYouâre not serious?â he said.
ÎLet me put it like this,â said Masklin. ÎHave you got a better plan? Will you support me?â
ÎBut how will you ÷ how can nomes is it even possible that we can÷?â Gurder began.
Weâll find a way,â said Masklin. With Arnold Bros (est. 1905)âs help, of course,â he added diplomatically.
ÎOh. Of course,â said Gurder weakly. He pulled himself together.
ÎAnyway, if Iâm to be the new Abbot I have to make a speech,â he said. ÎItâs expected. General messages of goodwill and so on. We can talk about this later. Reflect upon it at leisure in the sober surroundings of÷â
Masklin shook his head. Gurder swallowed.
ÎYou mean now? he said.
ÎYes. Now. We tell them now.â
i. &nbs p; And the leaders of the nornes were Assembled, and the Abbot Gurder said unto them, Harken to the Words of the Outsider;
ii. &nbs p; And some waxed wroth, saying, He is an OutÐsider, wherefore then shall we harken to him?
iii. &nbs p; The Abbot Gurder said, Because the old Abbot wished it so. Yea, and because I wish it so, also.
iv. &nbs p; Whereupon they grumbled, but were silent.
v. &nbs p; The Outsider said, Concerning the Rumours of Demolition, I have a Plan.
vi. &nbs p; Let us not go like Woodlice fleeing from an overturned log, but like Brave Free People, at a time of our choosing.
vii. &nbs p; And they interrupted him, saying, Whatâs Woodlice? Whereupon the Outsider said, All right, Rats.
viii. &nbs p; Let us take with us the things that we need to begin our life anew Outside, not in some other Store, but under the sky. Let us take all nomes, the aged and the young, and all the food and materials and information that we need.
ix. &nbs p; And they said, All? And he said, All. And they said unto him, We cannot do this thing...
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ From The Book of Nome, Third Floor v.I-IX
ÊÎYes, we can,â said Masklin. ÎIf we steal a lorry.â There was a dead silence.
The Count de Ironmongri raised an eyebrow.
ÎThe big smelly things with wheels at each corÐner?â he said.
ÎYes,â said Masklin. All eyes were on him. He felt himself beginning to blush.
The nomeâs a fool!â snapped the Duke de HaberÐdasheri. ÎEven if the Store was in danger, and I see no reason, no reason I say, to believe it, the idea is quite preposterous.â
ÎYou see,â said Masklin, beginning to blush, Îthereâs plenty of room, we can take everyone, we can steal books that tell us how to do things÷â
ÎThe mouth moves, the tongue waggles, but no sense comes out,â said the Duke. There was nervÐous laughter from some of the nomes around him. Out of the corner of his eye Masklin saw Angalo standing by his father, his face shining.
ÎNo offence to the late Abbot,â said one of the lesser lords hesitantly, Îbut Iâve heard there are other Stores Out There. I mean to say, we must have lived somewhere before the Store.â He swalÐlowed. ÎWhat Iâm getting at, if the Store was built in 1905, where did we live in 1904? No offence meant.â
ÎIâm not talking about going to another Store,â said Masklin. ÎIâm talking about living free.â
ÎAnd Iâm listening to no more of this nonsense. The old Abbot was a sound man, but he must have gone a little funny in the head at the finish,â snapped the Duke. He turned and stormed out noisily. Most of the other lords followed him. Some of them quite reluctantly, Masklin noticed; in fact, a few hung around at the back, so that if asked they could say that they were just about to leave.
Those left were the Count, a small fat woman who Gurder had identified as the Baroness del Icatessen, and a handful of lesser lords from the sub-departments.
The Count looked around theatrically. ÎAh,â he said. ÎRoom to breathe. Carry on, young man.â
ÎWell, thatâs about it,â Masklin admitted. ÎI canât plan anything more until Iâve found out more things. For example, can you make electric? Not steal it from the Store, but make it?â
The Count stroked his chin.
ÎYou are asking me to give you departmental secrets?â he said.
ÎMy lord,â said Gurder sharply, Îif we take this desperate step it is vital that we are open with one another and share our knowledge.â
ÊÎThatâs true,â said Masklin.
ÎQuite,â said Gurder sternly. ÎWe must all act for the good of all nomes.â
Well said,â said Masklin. ÎAnd thatâs why the Stationeri, for their part, will teach all nomes who request it to read.â
There was a pause. It was broken by the faint wheezing noise of Gurder trying not to choke.
ÎTo read÷!â he began.
Masklin hesitated. Well, heâd gone this far.
Might as well get it over with. He saw Grimma staring at him.
Women too,â he said.
This time it was the Count who looked surÐprised. The Baroness, on the other hand, was smiling. Gurder was still making little mewling noises.
Thereâs all kind of books on the shelves in the Stationery Department,â Masklin plunged on.
ÊÎAnything we want to do, thereâs a book that tells us how! But weâre going to need lots of people to read them, so we can find out what we need.â
ÎI think our Stationeri friend would like a drink of water,â observed the Count. ÎI think he may be overcome by the new spirit of sharing and co-operation.â
ÎYoung man,â said the Baroness, Îwhat you say might be true, but do these precious books tell us how one may control one of these lorry things?â
Masklin nodded. He had been ready for this one. Grimma came up behind him, dragging a thin. book that was nearly as big as she was. Masklin helped her prop it up so they could all see it.
ÎSee, itâs got words on it,â he said proudly. ÎIâve learned them already. They say . ..Î he pointed each one out with his spear as he said them, Î... The . . . High... Way... Code. High Way Code. Itâs got pictures inside. When you learn The High Way Code you can drive. It says so. High Way Code,â he added, uncertainly.
ÎAnd Iâve been working out what some of the words mean,â said Grimma.
ÎAnd sheâs been reading some of the words,â Masklin agreed. He couldnât help noticing that this fact interested the Baroness.
ÎAnd that is all there is to it?â said the Count.
ÎEr,â said Masklin. Heâd been worrying about this himself. He had an obscure feeling that it couldnât be as easy as that, but this was no time to worry about details that could be sorted out later. What was it the Abbot had said? The imporÐtant thing about being a leader was not so much being right or wrong as being certain. Being right helped, of course.
Well, I went and looked in the lorry nest, I mean the garage, this morning,â he said. ÎYou can see inside them if you climb up. Thereâs levers and wheels and things, but I suppose we can find out what they do.â He took a deep breath. ÎIt canât be very difficult, otherwise humans wouldnât be able to do it.â
The nomes had to concede this.
ÎMost intriguing,â said the Count. ÎMay I ask what it is you require from us now?â
ÎPeople,â said Masklin simply. ÎAs many as youÊ can spare. Especially the ones you canât spare.
And theyâll need to be fed.â
The Baroness glanced at the Count. He nodded, so she nodded.
ÎIâd just like to ask the young gel,â she said, Îwhether she feels all right. With this reading, I mean.â
ÎI can only do some words,â said Grimma quickly. ÎLike Left and Right and Bicycle.â
ÎAnd you havenât experienced any feelings of pressure in the head?â said the Baroness carefully.
ÎNot really, maâam.â
ÎHmm. Thatâs extremely interesting,â said theÊ Baroness, staring fixedly at Gurder.
The new Abbot was sitting down now. he began.
Masklin groaned inwardly. Heâd thought it would be difficult, learning to drive, learning how a lorry worked, learning to read, but they were, well, just tasks. You could see all the difficulties before you started. If you worked at them for long enough, then you were bound to succeed. Heâd been right. The difficult thing was going to be all the people.
* * *
There turned out to be twenty-eight.
ÎNot enough,â said Grimma.
ÎItâs a start,â said Masklin. ÎI think there will be more by and by. They all need to be taught to read. Not well, but enough. And then five of the best of them must be taught how to teach people to read.â
ÎHow did you work that out?â said Grimma.
ÎThe Thing told me,â said Masklin. ÎItâs someÐthing called critical path analysis. It means thereâs always something you should have done first. For example, if you want to build a house you need to know how to make bricks, and before you can make bricks you need to know what kind of clay to use. And so on.â
ãWhatâs clay?â
ÎDonât know.â
ÎWhatâre bricks?â
ÎNot sure.â
Well, whatâs a house?â she demanded.
ÎHavenât quite worked it out,â said Masklin. ÎBut anyway, itâs all very important. Critical path analysis. And thereâs something else called progÐress chasing.â
ÎWhatâs that?â
ÎI think it means shouting at people, ãWhy havÐenât you done it yet?äâ Masklin looked down at his feet. ÎI think we can get Granny Morkie to do that,â he said. ÎI donât reckon she will be interested in learning to read, but she knows how to shout.â
ÎWhat about me?â
ÎI want you to learn to read even more.â
Why?â
ÎBecause we need to learn how to think,â said Masklin.
ÎI know how to think!â
ÊÎDunno,â said Masklin. ÎI mean, yes, you do, but thereâs some things we canât think because we donât know the words. Like the Store nomes. They donât even know what the wind and rain are really like!â
ÎI know, and I tried to tell the Baroness about snow and÷â
Masklin nodded. ÎThere you are, then. They donât know, and they donât even know they donât know. What is it that we donât know? We ought to read everything that we can. Gurder doesnât like it. He says only the Stationeri should read. But the
F trouble is, they donât try to understand things.â Gurder had been furious.
ÎReading,â heâd said. ÎEvery stupid nome coming up here and wearing all the printing out with looking at it! Why donât you give away all our skills while youâre about it? Why donât we teach everyone to write, eh?â
ÎWe can do that later,â said Masklin mildly.
ÎWhat!â
ÎIt isnât so important, you see.â
Gurder thumped the wall. ÎWhy in the name of Arnold Bros (est. 1905) didnât you ask my per-Îmission first?â
Would you have given it?â
ÎNo!â
ÎThatâs why, you see,â said Masklin.
ÊWhen I said Iâd help you I didnât expect this!â shouted Gurder.
ÎNor did I!â snapped Masklin.
The new Abbot paused.
ÎWhat do you mean?â he said.
ÎI thought youâd help,â said Masklin, simply.
Gurder sagged. ÎAll right, all right,â he said. ÎYou know I canât forbid it now, not in front of everyone. Do whatever is necessary. Take whatÐever people you must.â
ÎGood,â said Masklin, Îwhen can you start?â
ÎMe? But÷â
ÎYou said yourself that youâre the best reader.â
Well, yes, of course, this is the case, but։
ÎGood.â
They grew used to that word, later. Masklin developed a way of saying it that indicated that everything was all sorted out, and there was no point in saying anything more.
Gurder waved his hands wildly. What do you want me to do?â he said. ÎHow many books are there?â said Masklin. ÎHundreds! Thousands!â
ÎDo you know what theyâre all about?â Gurder looked at him blankly. ÎDo you know what youâre saying?â he said.
ÎNo. But I want to find out.â
Theyâre about everything! Youâd never believe it! Theyâre full of words even I donât underÐstand!â
ÎCan you find a book which tells you how to understand words you donât understand?â said Masklin. This is critical path analysis, he thought. Gosh, Iâm doing it without thinking.
Gurder hesitated. ÎItâs an intriguing thought,â he said.
ÎI want to find out everything about lorries, and electric, and food,â said Masklin. ÎAnd then I want you to find a book about, about...â
Well?â
Masklin looked desperate. ÎIs there a book that tells you how nomes can drive a lorry built for humans?â he said.
ÎDonât you know?â
ÎNot. . . exactly. I was sort of hoping we could work it out as we went along.â
ÎBut you said all we needed to do was learn TheÊ High Way Code!â
ÎYe-ss,â said Masklin uncertainly, Îand it says you have to know The High Way Code before you
can drive. But somehow I get the feeling that it might not be as simple as that.â
ÎBargains Galore preserve us!â
ÎI hope so,â said Masklin. ÎI really do.â
And then it was time to put it all to the test. It was cold in the lorry nest, and stank of all. It
was also a long way to the ground if they fell off the girder. Masklin tried not to look down. There was a lorry below them. It looked much bigger indoors. Huge,. red and terrible in the gloom.
ÎThis is about far enough,â he said. Weâre right over the sticking-out bit where the driver site.â
The cab,â said Angalo.
Right. The cab.â
Angalo had been a surprise. Heâd turned up in the Stationery Department, breathing heavily, his face red, and demanding to be taught to read.
So he could learn about lorries. They fascinated him.
ÎBut your father objects to the whole idea,â
Masklin had said.
ÎThat doesnât matter,â said Angalo shortly. ÎItâs all right for you, youâve been there! I want to see all those things, I want to go Outside, I want to know if itâs real!â
He hadnât been very good at reading, but heâd tried until his brain hurt when the Stationeri found him some books with lorries on the front.
Now he probably knew more about them than any other nome. Which wasnât a lot, Masklin had to admit.
He listened to Angalo muttering to himself as he struggled into the straps.
ÎGear,â he said. ÎShift. Steering Wheel. Wipers. Auto Transmission. Breaker Break Good BudÐdy. Smoky. Double Egg And Chips And Beans. Yorkiebar. Truckers.â He looked up and smiled thinly at Masklin. ÎReady,â he said.
ÎNow remember,â said Masklin, Îthey donât always leave the windows open, so if theyâre closed, one pull on the rope and weâll pull you back up, okay?â
ÎTen-four.â
What?â
ÎItâs Lorry driver for ãyesä,â explained Angalo. ÎOh. Fine. Now, when youâre in, find somewhere to hide so you can watch the driver÷â
ÎYes, yes. You explained it all before,â said Angalo impatiently.
ÎYes. Well. Have you got your sandwiches?â Angalo patted the package at his waist. ÎAnd my notebook,â he said. ÎReady to go. Put the Pedal to the Metal.â
What?â
ÎIt means ãgoä in Lorry.â
Masklin looked puzzled. ÎDo we have to know all this to drive one?â
ÎNegatory,â said Angalo proudly.
ÎOh? Well, so long as you understand yourself, thatâs the main thing.â
Dorcas, who was in charge of the rope detail, tapped Angalo on the shoulder.
ÎYou sure you wonât take the Outside suit?â he said hopefully.
It was cone-shaped, made out of heavy cloth over a sort of umbrella frame of sticks so that it folded up, and had a little window to look out
of. Dorcas had insisted on building it, to protect Outsidegoers.
ÎAfter all,â heâd said to Masklin, Îyou might be u8ed to the Rain and the Wind, perhaps your heads have grown specially hard. Canât be too careful.â
ÎI donât think so, thank you,â said Angalo politeÐly. ÎItâs so heavy, and I donât expect Iâll go outside the lorry this trip.â
ÎGood,â said Masklin. Well, letâs not hang about. Except for you, Angalo. Haha. Ready to take the strain, lads? Over you go, Angalo,â he said, and then, because it paid to be on the safe side and you never knew, it might help, he added, ÎMay Arnold Bros (est. 1905) watch over you.â
Angalo eased himself over the edge and slowly became a small spinning shape in the gloom as the team carefully let the thread out. Masklin prayed that theyâd brought enough of it, there hadnât been time to come and measure.
ÊThere was a desperate tugging on the thread. Masklin peered down. Angalo was a small shape a metre or so below him.
ÎIf anything should happen to me, no one is to eat Bobo,â he called up.
ÎDonât you worry,â said Masklin. ÎYouâre going to be all right.â
ÎYes, I know. But if Iâm not, Bobo is to go to aÊ good home,â said Angalo.
ÎRight you are. A good home. Yes.â
Where they donât eat rat. Promise?â
ÎNo rat-eating. Fine,â said Masklin.
Angato nodded. The gang started to pay out the thread again.
Then Angalo was down, and hurrying across the sloping roof to the side of the cab. It made Masklin dizzy just to look down at him.
The figure disappeared. After a while came two tugs, meaning Îpay out more threadâ. They let it slip past gradually. And then there were three tugs, faint but ÷ well, three. And a few seconds later they came again.
Masklin let out his breath in a whoosh.
ÎAngalo has landed,â he said. ÎPull the thread back up. Weâll leave it here, in case I mean, for when he comes back.â
He risked another look at the forbidding bulk of the lorry. The lorries went out, the lorries came back, and it was the considered opinion of nomes like Dorcas that they were the same lorries. They went out loaded with goods, and they came back loaded with goods, and why Arnold Bros (est. 1905) felt the need to let goods out for the day was beyond anyoneâs understanding. All that was known with any certainty was that they were always back within a day, or two at the outside.
Masklin looked down at the lorry which now contained the explorer. Where would it go, what would happen to it? What would Angalo see, before he came back again? If he didnât come back, what would Masklin tell his parents? That someone had to go, that heâd begged to go, that they had to see how a lorry was driven, that everything depended on him? Somehow, he knew, it wouldnât sound very convincing in those circumstances.
Dorcas leaned over next to him.
ÎItâll be a job and a half getting everyone down this way,â he said.
ÎI know. Weâll have to think of some better way.â
The inventor pointed down towards one of the other silent lorries. ÎThereâs a little step there,â he said, 'just by the driverâs door, look. If we could get to that and get a rope around the handle÷â
Masklin shook his head.
ÎItâs too far up,â he said. ÎItâs a small step for a man, but a giant leap for nomekind.â
v. &nbs p; Thus the Outsider said, Those who believe not in the Outside, see, one will be sent Outside to Prove This Thing;
vi. &nbs p; And one went upon a Lorry, and went Outside, to see where there may be a new Home;
vii. &nbs p; And there was much waiting, for he did not return.
From The Book of Nome, Goods Outwards v.V÷VII
Masklin had taken to sleeping in an old shoebox in the Stationery Department, where he could find a little peace. But when he got back there was a small deputation of nomes waiting for him. They were holding a book between them.
Masklin was getting a bit disillusioned with the books. Maybe all the things he wanted to know were written down somewhere, but the real probÐlem was to find them. The books might have been put together especially to make it difficult to find things out. There seemed to be no sense in them. Or, rather, there was sense, but in nonsensical ways.
He recognized Vinto Pimmie, a very young IronÐmongri. He sighed. Vinto was one of the keenest and fastest readers, just not a particularly good one, and he tended to get carried away.
ÎIâve cracked it,â said the boy proudly.
ÎCan you repair it?â said Masklin.
ÎI mean, I know how we can get a human to drive the lorry for us!â
Masklin sighed. ÎWeâve thought about this, but it really wonât work. If we show ourselves to a human÷-â
ÎDon't matter! Donât matter! He wonât do anyÐthing, the reason being, weâll have ÷youâll like thisÊ weâll have a gnu!â
Vinto beamed at him, like a dog whoâs just done a difficult trick.
ÎA gnu,â repeated Masklin weakly.
ÎYes! Itâs in this book!â Vinto proudly displayed it. Masklin craned to see. He was picking reading up as he went along, a little bit at a time, but as far as he could make out the book was about Host Age at 10,000 Feet.
ÎItâs got something to do with lots of shoes?â he said hopefully.
ÎNo, no, no, what you do is, you get a gnu, then you point it at the driver and someone says, ãLook
out, heâs got a gnu!ä and you say, ãTake us where we want to go or Iâll fire this gnu at you!ä and then he÷â
ÎRight, right. Fine,â said Masklin, backing away. ÎJolly good. Splendid idea. Weâll definitely give it some thought. Well done.â
ÎThat was clever of me, wasnât it,â said Vinto, jumping from one foot to the other.
ÎYes. Certainly. Er. You donât think you might be better reading a more practical kind of÷â Masklin hesitated. Who knew what kind of books were best?
He staggered inside his box and pulled the cardboard over the door and leaned against it.
ÎThing?â he said.
ÎI hear you, Masklin,â said the Thing, from the heap of rags that was Masklinâs bed.
ÎWhatâs a gnu?â
There was a brief pause. Then the Thing said:
ÎThe gnu, a member of the genus Connochaetes and the family Bovidae, is an African antelope with down-curving horns. Body length is up to 2m (6.5 ft), the shoulder height is about 140cm (4.5 ft), and weight is up to270kg (600lb). Gnus inhabit grassy plains in central and southern Africa.â
ÎOh. Could you threaten someone with one?â
ÎQuite possibly.â
Would there be one in the Store?â
There was another pause. ÎIs there a Pet DepartÐment?â
Masklin knew what that was. The subject had come up yesterday, when Vinto had sugÐgested taking a herd of guinea pigs to raise for meat.
ÎNo,â he said.
ÎThen I should think the chance is remote.â
ÎOh. Just as well, really.â Masklin sagged down on his bed. ÎYou see,â he said, Îweâve got to be able to control where weâre going. We need to find someÐwhere a little way from humans. But not too far. Somewhere safe.â
ÎYou must look for an atlas or map.â
ÎWhat do they look like?â
ÎThey may have the words ãatlasä or ãmapä written on them.â
ÎIâll ask the Abbot to have a search made.â Masklin yawned.
ÎYou must sleep,â said the Thing.
ÎPeople always want me to do things. Anyway, you donât sleep.â
ÎItâs different for me.â
ÎWhat I need,â said Masklin, Îis a way. We canât use a gnu. They all think I know the way to do it and I donât know the way. We know what we need, but weâll never get it all into a lorry in one night. They all think I know all the answers, but I donât. And I donât know the way...â
He fell asleep, and dreamed of being human-Ðsized. Everything was so easy, if you were human-sized.
Two days went past. The nomes kept watch from the girder over the garage. A small plastic teleÐscope was rolled down from the Toy Department, and with its help the news came back that the big metal doors to the garage opened themselves when a human pressed a red button next to them. How could you press a button ten times higher than your head? It went down on Masklinâs list of problems to solve.
Gurder found a map. It was in quite a small book.
ÎThat was no trouble,â he said. ÎWe have dozens of these every year. Itâs called÷â he read the gold lettering slowly Î÷Pocket Diary. And it has this map all at the back, look.â
Masklin stared down at the small pages of blue and red blobs. Some of the blobs had names, like Africa and Asia.
ÎWe-ell,â he said, and ÎYe-ss. I suppose so. Well done. Where are we, exactly?â
ÎIn the middle,â said Gurder promptly. ÎThatâs logical.â
And then the lorry returned.
Angalo didnât.
Masklin ran along the girder without thinking of the drop on either side. The little knot of figures told him everything he didnât want to know. A young nome who had just been lowered over the edge was sitting down and getting his breath back.
ÎI tried all the windows,â he said. ÎTheyâre all shut. Couldnât see anyone in there. Itâs very dark.â
ÎAre you sure itâs the right lorry?â said Masklin to the head watcher.
ÎTheyâve all got numbers on the front of them,â he was told. ÎI was particularly sure to remember the one he went out on, so when it comes back this afternoon I÷â
ÎWeâve got to get inside to have a look,â said Masklin firmly. ÎSomeone go and get . . . no, itâll take too long. Lower me down.â
ÎWhat?â
ÎLower me down,â Masklin repeated. ÎAll the way to the floor.â
ÎItâs a long way down,â said one of them doubtÐfully.
ÎI know! Far too long to go all the way around by the stairs.â Masklin handed the end of the thread to a couple of nomes. ÎHe could be in there hurt, or anything.â
'"Tisnât our fault,â said a nome. ÎThere were humans all over the place when it came in. We had to wait.â
ÎItâs no oneâs fault. Some of you, go around the long way and meet me down there. Donât look so upset, itâs no oneâs fault.â
Except perhaps mine, he thought, as he spun
around in the darkness. He watched the huge shadowy bulk of the lorry slide past him. SomeÐhow, theyâd looked smaller outside.
The floor was greasy with all. He ran under the lorry into a world roofed with wires and pipes, far too high to reach, but he poked around near one of the benches and came back dragging a length of wire and, with great difficulty, bent it into a hook at one end.
A moment later he was crawling among the pipes. It wasnât hard. Most of the underneath of the lorry seemed to be pipes or wires, and after a minute or two he found a metal wall ahead of him, with holes in it to take even more bundles of wires. It was possible, with a certain amount of pain, to squeeze through. Inside÷ There was carpet. Odd thing to find in a lorry.
Here and there a sweet wrapper lay, large as a newspaper to a nome. Huge pedal-shaped things stuck out of greasy holes in the floor. In the distance was a seat, behind a huge wheel. PresumÐably it was something for the human in the lorry to hold on to, Masklin thought.
ÎAngalo?â he called out, softly.
There was no answer. He poked around aimÐlessly for awhile, and had nearly given up when he spotted something in the drifts of fluff and paper under the seat. A human would have thought it was just another scrap of rubbish. Masklin recogÐnized Angaloâs coat.
He looked carefully at the rubbish. It was just possible to imagine someone had been lying there, watching. He rummaged among it and found a small sandwich wrapper.
He took the coat back out with him; there didnât seem to be much else to do.
A dozen nomes were waiting anxiously on the all- soaked floor under the engine. Masklin held out the coat, and shrugged.
ÎNo sign,â he said. ÎHeâs been there, but heâs not there now.â
ÎWhat could have happened to him?â said one of the older nomes.
Someone behind him said darkly: ÎPerhaps the Rain squashed him. Or he was blown away by the fierce Wind.â
ÎThatâs right,â said one of the others. ÎThere could be dreadful things, Outside.â
ÎNo!â said Masklin. ÎI mean, there are dreadful things÷â
ÎAh,â said the nomes, nodding.
Î÷but not like that! He should have been perÐfectly all right if he stayed in the lorry! I.told him not to go exploring÷â
He was aware of a sudden silence. The nomes werenât looking at him but past him, at something behind him.
The Duke de Haberdasheri was standing there, with some of his soldiers. He stared woodenly at Masklin, and then held out his hands without saying a word.
Masklln gave him the coat. The Duke turned it over and over, staring at it. The silence stretched out thinner and thinner, until it almost hummed.
ÎI forbade him to go,â said the Duke softly. 'I told him it would be dangerous. You know, that was foolish of me. It just made him more determined.â He looked back up at Masklin.
Well?â he said.
ÎEr?â said Masklin.
ÎIs my son still alive?â
ÎUrn. He could be. Thereâs no reason why not.â
The Duke nodded, vaguely.
This is it, thought Masklin. Itâs all going to end here.
The Duke stared up at the lorry, and then looked around at his guards.
ÎAnd these things go Outside, do they?â he said.
ÎOh, yes. All the time,â said Masklin.
The Duke made an odd noise in the back of his throat.
ÎThere is nothing Outside,â he said. ÎI know this. But my son knew differently. You think we should go Out. Will I see my son then?â
Masklin looked into the old manâs eyes. They were like two eggs that werenât quite cooked yet. And he thought about the size of everything outÐside, and the size of a nome. And then he thought:
a leader should know all about truth and honesÐ ty, and when to see the difference. Honestly, the
chance of finding Angalo out there is greater thanÊ the whole Store taking wings and flying, but the
truth is that÷ ÎItâs possible,â he said, and felt terrible. But it
was possible.
ÎVery well,â said the Duke, his expression unchanged. ÎWhat do you need?â
ÎWhat?â said Masklin, his mouth dropping open. ÎI said, what do you need? To make the lorry go Outside?â said the Duke.
Masklin floundered. ÎWell, er, at the moment, I suppose, we need people-â
ÎHow many?â snapped the Duke.
Masklinâs mind raced.
ÎFifty?â he ventured.
ÎYou shall have them.â
ÊÎBut÷â Masklin began. The Dukeâs expression changed now. He no longer looked totally lost and alone. Now he looked his usual angry self.
ÎSucceed,â he hissed, and spun on his heel and stalked off.
That evening fifty Haberdasheri turned up, gawping at the garage and acting generally bewilÐdered. Gurder protested, but Masklin put all those who looked even vaguely capable on to the reading scheme.
ÎThereâs too many!â said Gurder. ÎAnd theyâre common soldiers, for Arnold Bros (est. 1905)âs sake!â
ÎI expected him to say fifty was too many and beat me down to twenty or so,â said Masklin. ÎBut I think we will need them all, soon.â
The reading programme wasnât going the way he expected. There were useful things in books, it was true, but it was a hard job to find them among all the strange stuff.
Like the girl in the rabbit hole.
It was Vinto who came up with that one.
Î...and she fell down this hole and there was a white rabbit with a watch, I know about rabÐbits, and then she found this little bottle of stuff that made her BIG, I mean really huge, and then she found some more stuff which made her really small,â heâd said breathlessly, his face glowing with enthusiasm, Îso, all we need do is, we just find some more of the BIG stuff and then one of us can drive the lorry.â
Masklin didnât dare ignore it. If just one nome could be made the size of a human, it would be easy. Heâd told himself that dozens of times. It had to be worth an effort.
So theyâd spent nearly all the night searching the Store for any bottles labelled ÎDrink Meâ. Either the Store didnât have it and Gurder wasnât prepared to accept that, because the Store had Everything Under One Roof÷ or it just wasnât real. There seemed to be lots of things in books that werenât real. It was hard to see why Arnold Bros (est. 1905) had put so many unreal things inâ books.
ÎSo the faithful can tell the difference,â Gurder had said.
Masklin had taken one book himself. It just fitted his box. It was called A Childâs Guide to the Stars and most of it was pictures of the sky at night. He knew that was real.
He liked to look at it when he had too much to think about. He looked at it now.
They had names, like Sirius and Rigel or Wolf 359Ê or Ross 154.
He tried a few on the Thing.
ÎI do not know the names,â it said.
ÎI thought we came from one of them,â said Masklin. ÎYou said÷â
ÎThey are different names. Currently I cannot identify them.â
ÎWhat was the name of the star that nomes came from?â said Masklin, lying back in the darkÐness.
ÎIt was called: The Sun.â
ÎBut the sunâs here!â
ÎAll stars are called The Sun by the people who live nearby. It is because they believe them to be important.â
ÎDid they ÷ I mean, did we visit many?â
ÎI have 94,563 registered as having been visited by nomes.â
Masklin stared up at the darkness. Big numbers gave him trouble, but he could see that this numÐber was one of the biggest. Bargains Galore! he thought, and then felt embarrassed and corrected it to Gosh! All those suns, miles apart, and all I have to do is move one lorry!
Put like that, it seemed ridiculous.
x. &nbs p; When Lo! One returned, saying, I have Gone upon Wheels, and I have Seen the Outside.
xi. &nbs p; And they said to him, What is the Outside?
xii. &nbs p; And he said, It is Big.
From The Book of Nome, Accounts v.X÷XII
On the fourth day Angalo returned, wild-eyed and grinning like a maniac.
The nome on guard came running into the department, with Angalo swaggering behind him and a gaggle of younger nomes trailing, fasciÐnated, in his wake. He was grimy, and ragged, and looked as though he hadnât slept for hours
÷ but he walked proudly, with a strange swaying motion, like a nome who has boldly gone where no nome has gone before and canât wait to be asked about it.
ÎWhereâve I been?â he said. ÎWhereâve I been? Where havenât I been, more like. You should see whatâs out there!â
ÎWhat?â they asked.
ÎEverywhere!â be said, his eyes glowing. ÎAnd you know what?â
ÎWhat?â they chorused.
ÎIâve seen the Store from the outside! Itâs. . .Î he lowered his voice, Îitâs beautiful. All columns and big glass windows full of colour!â
Now he was the centre of a growing crowd as the news spread.
ÎDid you see all the departments?â said a Stationeri.
ÎNo!â
ÎWhat?â
ÎYou canât see the departments from outside! Itâs just one big thing! And, and. . .Î in the sudden silence he fumbled in his pouch for his notebook, which was now a lot fatter, and thumbed through the pages, Îitâs got a great big sign outside it and I copied it down because itâs not Trucker language and I didnât understand it but this is what it was.â
He held it up.
The silence got deeper. Quite a few nomes could read by now.
The words said CLOSING DOWN SALE.
Then he went to bed, still babbling excitedly about lorries and hills and cities, whatever they were, and slept for two hours.
Later on, Masklin went to see him.
Angalo was sitting up in bed, his eyes still shining like bright marbles in the paleness of his face.
ÎDonât you get him tired,â warned Granny Morkie, who always nursed anyone too ifi to prevent it. ÎHeâs very weak and feverish, itâs all that rattling around in those great noisy things, itâs not natural. Iâve just had his dad in here, and I had to turf him out after five minutes.â
ÎYou got rid of the Duke?â said Masklin. ÎBut how? He doesnât listen to anyone!â
ÊÎHe might be a big nome in the Store,â said Granny in a self-satisfied tone of voice, Îbut heâs just an awkward nuisance in a sick-room.â
ÎI need to talk to him,â said Masklin.
ÎAnd I want to talk!â said Angalo, sitting up. ÎI want to tell everyone! Thereâs everything out there! Some of the things Iâve seen÷â
ÎYou just settle down,â said Granny, gently pushing him back into the pillows. ÎAnd Iâm not too happy about rats in here, either.â Boboâs whiskers could just be seen under the end of the blankets.
ÎBut heâs very clean and heâs my friend,â said Angalo. ÎAnd you said you like rats.â
ÎRat. I said rat. Not rats,â said Granny. She prodded Masklin. ÎDonât you let him get overÐexcited,â she commanded.
Masklin sat down by the bed while Angalo talked with wild enthusiasm about the world outside, like someone who had spent his life with a blindfold on and had just been allowed to see. He talked about the big light in the sky, and roads full of lorries, and big things sticking out of the floor which had green things all over them÷ ÎTrees,â said Masklin.
÷and great buildings where things went on the lorry or came off it. It was at one of these that Angalo got lost. Heâd climbed out when it stopped for a while, to go to the lavatory, and hadnât been able to get back before the driver returned and drove away. So heâd climbed on to another one, and some time after it had driven away it stopped at a big park with other lorries in it. He started looking for another Arnold Bros (est. 1905) lorry.
ÎIt must have been a cafe on a motorway,â said Masklin. ÎWe used to live near one.â
ÎIs that what itâs called?â said Angalo, hardly listening. ÎThere was this big blue sign with pictures of cups and knives and forks on it. AnyÐway÷â
÷there werenât any Store lorries. Or perhaps there were, but there were so many other types he couldnât find one. Eventually heâd camped out on the edge of a lorry park, living on scraps, until by sheer luck one had turned up. He hadnât been able to get into the cab, but he had managed to climb up a tyre and find a dark place where he had to hold on to cables with his hands and knees to stop himself falling off on to the rushing road, far below.
Angalo produced his notebook. It was stained almost black.
ÎNearly lost it,â he said. ÎNearly ate it once, I was so hungry.â
ÎYes, but the actual driving,â Masklin said insistently, with one eye on the impatient Granny Morkie. ÎHow do they do the actual driving?â
Angalo flicked through the book. ÎI made a note somewhere,â he said. ÎAh, here.â He passed it over.
Masklin looked at a complicated sketch of levers and arrows and numbers.
ÎãTurn the key ... one, two . . . press the red button ... one, two ... push pedal number one down with the left foot, push big lever left and up
one, two. . . let pedal one up gently, push pedal number two down. . .ã ÎHe gave up. ÎWhat does it all mean?â he said, dreading the answer. He knew what it was going to be.
ÎItâs how you drive a lorry,â said Angalo.
ÎOh. But, er, all these pedals and buttons and levers and things,â said Masklin weakly.
ÎYou need Îem all,â said Angalo, proudly. ÎAnd then you go rushing along, and you change up the gears, and÷â
ÎYes. Oh. I see,â said Masklin, staring at the piece of paper.
How? he thought.
Angalo had been very thorough. Once; when heâd been alone in the cab, heâd measured the height of what he called the Gear Lever, which seemed very important. It was five times the height of a nome. And the big wheel that moved and seemed to be very important was as wide as eight nomes standing side by side.
And you had to have keys. Masklin hadnât known about the keys. He hadnât known about anything.
ÎI did well, didnât I?â said Angalo. ÎItâs all in there.â
ÎYes. Yes. You did very well.â
ÎYou have a good look, itâs all in there. All about the going-around-corners flasher and the horn,â Angalo went on enthusiastically.
ÎYes. Yes, Iâm sure it is.â
ÎAnd the go-faster pedal and the go-slower pedal and everything!
ÎOnly you donât look very pleased.â
ÎYouâve given me a lot to think about, Iâm sure.â
Angalo grabbed him by the sleeve. ÎThey said there was only one Store,â he said urgently. ÎThere isnât, thereâs so much outside, so much. Thereâs other Stores. I saw some. There could be nomes living in Îem! Life in other Stores! Of course, you know.â
ÎYou get some more sleep,â said Masklin, as kindly as he could manage.
ÎWhen are we going to go?â
ÊÎThereâs plenty of time,â said Masklin. ÎDonât worry about it. Get some sleep.â
He wandered out of the sick-room and straight into an argument. The Duke had returned, with some followers, and wanted to take Angalo up to the Stationery Department. He was arguing with Granny Morkie. Or trying to, anyway.
ÎMadam, I assure you heâll be well looked after!â he was saying.
ÎHumph! Wotdo you people know about doctrinâ? You hardly ever have anything go wrong here! Where I come from,â said Granny, proudly, Îitâs sick, sick, sick all year round. Colds and sprains and bellyache and bites the whole time. Thatâs what you call experience. I reckon Iâve seen more ifi people than youâve had hot dinners and,â she prodded the Duke in the stomach, Îyouâve had a few of those.â
ÎMadam, I could have you imprisoned!â roared the Duke.
Granny sniffed. ÎAnd what has that got to do with it?â she said.
The Duke opened his mouth to roar back, and then caught sight of Masklin. He shut it again.
ÎVery well,â he said. ÎYou are, in fact, quite right. But I will visit him every day.â
ÎNo longer than two minutes, mind,â sniffed Granny.
ÎFive!â said the Duke.
ÎThree,â said Granny.
ÎFour,â they agreed.
The Duke nodded, and beckoned Masklin towards him.
ÎYou have spoken to my son,â he said.
ÎYes, sir,â said Masklin.
ÎAnd he told you what he saw.â
ÎYes, sir.â
The Duke looked quite small. Masklin had always thought of him as a big nome, but nowÊ he realized that most of the size was a sort of
inward inflation, as if the nome was pumped up
with importance and authority. It had gone now.
The Duke looked worried and uncertain. ÎAh,â he said, looking approximately at MaskÐlinâs left ear. ÎI think I sent you some people, didnât I?â
ÎYes.â
ÎSatisfactory, are they?â
ÎYes, sir.â
ÎLet me know if you need any more help, wonât you? Any help at all.â The Dukeâs voice faded to a mumble. He patted Masklin vaguely on the shoulÐder and wandered away.
ÊÎWhatâs up with him?â said Masklin. Granny Morkie started to roll bandages in a businesslike way. No one needed them, but she believed in having a good supply. Enough for the whole world, apparently.
ÎHeâs having to think,â she said. ÎThat always worries people.â
ÎI just never thought it would be as hard as this!â
Masklin wailed.
ÎYou mean you didnât have any idea how we can drive one?â said Gurder.
ÎNone at all?â said Grimma.
ÎI ... well, I suppose I thought the lorries sort of went where you wanted,â said Masklin.
ÎI thought if they did it for humans theyâd do it for us. I didnât expect all this go-one-two-pull stuff ! Those wheels and pedals are huge, Iâve seen them!â
He stared distractedly at their faces.
ÎIâve thought about it for ages,â he said. He felt they were the only two he could trust.
The cardboard door slid open and a small, cheerful face appeared.
ÎYouâll like this one, Mr Masklin,â he said, ÎIâve been doing some more reading.â
ÎNot now, Vinto. Weâre a bit busy,â said Masklin. Vintoâs face fell.
ÎOh, you might as well listen to him,â said Grimma. ÎItâs not as if weâve got anything more important to do now.â
Masklin hung his head.
ÎWell, lad,â said Gurder, with forced cheerfulness, Îwhat idea have you come with this time, eh? PulÐling the lorry with wild hamsters, eh?â
ÎNo, sir,â said Vinto.
ÎMaybe you think we could make it grow wings and fly away in the sky?â
ÎNo, sir. I found this book, itâs how to capture humans, sir. And then we can get a gnu÷â
Masklin gave the others a sick little smile.
ÎI explained to him that we canât use humans,â he said. ÎI told you, Vinto. And Iâm really not cerÐtain about threatening people with antelopes÷â
With a grunt of effort, the boy swung the book open.
ÎItâs got a picture in it, sir.â
They looked at the picture. It showed a human lying down. He was surrounded by nomes, and covered with ropes.
ÎGosh,â said Grimma, Îtheyâve got books with pictures of us!â
ÎOh, I know this one,â said Gurder dismissively ÎItâs Gulliverâs Travels. Itâs just stories, itâs not realâ
ÎPictures of us in a book,â said Grimma. ÎImagine that. You see it, Masklin?â
Masklin stared.
ÎYes, youâre a good boy, well done,â said Gurder, his voice sounding far off. ÎThank you very much, Vinto, and now please go away.â
Masklin stared. His mouth dropped open. He felt the ideas fizz up inside him and slosh into his head.
ÎThe ropes,â he said.
ÎItâs just a picture,â said Gurder.
ÎThe ropes! Grimma, the ropes!â
ÎThe ropes?â
Masklin raised his fists and stared up at the ceiling. At times like this, it was almost possible to believe that there was someone up there, above Kiddies Klothes.
ÎI can see the way!â he shouted, while the threeÊ of them watched in astonishment. ÎI can see theÊ way! Arnold Bros (est. 1905), I can see the way!â
ÊAfter Closing Tune that evening several dozenÊ small and stealthy figures crept across the garage floor and disappeared under one of the parked lorries. Anyone listening would have heard the occasional tiny clink, thud or swear word. After ten minutes they were in the cab.
They stood in wonder, looking around. :Masklin wandered over to one of the pedals,
which was taller than he was, and gave it an experimental push. It didnât so much as wobble. Several of the others came over and helped, and managed to get it to move a little
ÊOne nome stood and watched them thoughtÐfully It was Dorcas, wearing a belt from which hung a variety of home-made tools, and he was
idly twiddling the pencil lead that was kept perÐmanently behind one ear when it wasnât being used.
Masklin walked back to him.
ÎWhat dâyou think?â he said.
Dorcas rubbed his nose. ÎItâs all down to levers and pulleys,â he said. ÎAmazing things, levers. Give me a lever long enough, and a firm enough place to stand, and I could move the Store.â
ÎJust one of these pedals would be enough for now,â said Masklin politely.
Dorcas nodded. ÎWeâll give it a try,â he said. ÎAll right, lads. Bring it up.â
A length of wood, carried all the way down from the Home Handyman Department, was nomehandled into the cab. Dorcas ambled around, measuring distances with a piece of thread, and finally had them wedge one end into a crack in the metal floor. Four nomes lined up at the other end and hauled the wood across until it was resting on the lever.
ÎRight, lads,â said Dorcas again.
They pushed down. The pedal went all the way to the floor. There was a ragged cheer.
ÎHow did you do that?â said Masklin.
ÎThatâs levers for you,â said Dorcas. Î0-kay.â He looked around, scratching his chin. ÎSo weâll need three levers.â He looked up at the great circle of the steering wheel. ÎYou have any ideas about that?â he said.
ÎI thought ropes,â said Masklin.
ÎHow dâyou mean?â
ÎItâs got those spokes in it, so if we tie ropes to them and have teams of nomes on the ropes, they could pull it one way or the other and thatâll make the lorry go the way we want,â said Masklin.
Dorcas squinted at the wheel. He paced the floor. He looked up. He looked down. His lips moved as he worked things out.
ÎThey wonât see where theyâre going,â he said finally.
thought, someone could stand right up there, by the big window in the front, and sort of tell them what to do?â said Masklin, looking hopefully at the old nome.
ÎTheseâre powerful noisy things, young Angalo said,â said Dorcas. He scratched his chin again. ÎI reckon I can do something about that. Then thereâs this big lever here, the Beer Lever÷â
ÎGear Lever,â said Masklin.
ÎAh. Ropes again?â
ÎI thought so,â said Masklin earnestly. ÎWhat do you think?â
Dorcas sucked in his breath. ÎWe-ell,â he said. ÎWhat with teams pulling the wheel, and teams shifting the Gear Lever, and people working the pedals with levers, and someone up there telling them all what to do, itâs going to take a powerful lot of practising. Supposing I rig up all the tackle, all the ropes and such: how many nights will we have to practise? You know, get the hang of it?â
ÎIncluding the night we, er, leave?â
ÊÎYes,â said Dorcas.
ÎOne,â said Masklin.
Dorcas sniffed. He stared upwards for a while, Êbumming under his breath.
ÎItâs impossible,â he said.
ÎWeâll only have one chance, you see,â said Masklin ÎIf Itâs a problem with all the equipment÷â
ÊÎOh, no problem there,â said Dorcas. ÎThatâs justÊ bits of wood and string, I can have that ready by tomorrow I was thinking of the people, see Youâre going to need a powerful lot of nomes to do all this. And theyâre going to need training.â
ÎBut, but all that theyâd have to do is pull and push when theyâre told, wonât they?â
Dorcas hummed under his breath again. MaskÐlin got the impression that he always did that if he was going to break some bad news.
ÎWell, laddie,â he said, ÎIâm six, Iâve seen a lot of people, and Iâve got to tell you, if you lined up ten nomes and shouted ãPull!ä, four of them would push and two of them would say ãPardon?ä Thatâs how people are. Itâs just nomish nature.â
He grinned at Masklinâs crestfallen expression. ÎWhat you ought to do,â he said, Îis find us a little lorry. To practise on.â
Masklin nodded gloomily.
ÎAnd,â said Dorcas, Îhave you thought again about how youâre going to get everyone on? Two thousand nomes, mind. Plus all this stuff weâre taking. You canât have old grannies and little babbies shinning up ropes or crawling through holes, can you?â
Masklin shook his head. Dorcas was watching him with his normal mild grin.
This nome, Masklin thought, knows his stuff. But if I say to him leave it all to me, heâll leave it all to me, just to serve me right. Oh, critical path analysis! Why is it always people?
ÎHave you got any ideas?â he said. ÎI really would appreciate your help.â
Dorcas gave him a long thoughtful look, and then patted him on the shoulder.
ÎIâve been looking around this place,â he Said.
ÎMaybe thereâs a way we can practise and solve the other problem. You come down here tomorrow night and weâll see, shall we?â
Masklin nodded.
The trouble was, he thought as he walked back, that there werenât enough people. A lot of the Ironmongri were helping, and some of the other departments, and quite a few young nomes were sneaking off to help because it was all excitÐing and unusual. As far as the rest of them were concerned, though, life was going on as normal.
In fact the Store was, if anything, busier than usual
Of all the family heads, only the Count seemed at all willing to take an interest, and Masklin suspected that even he didnât really think the Store was going to end. It just meant that the Ironmongri could learn to read and it annoyed the Haberdasheri, which amused the Count. Even Gurder didnât seem so sure as he had been.
Masklin went back to his box and slept, and woke up an hour later.
The terror had started.
Run to the Lifts
Lifts, wonât you carry me?
Run to the Walls,
Walls, wonât you hide me?
Run to the Lorry,
Lorry, wonât you take me?
All on that Day.
From The Book of Nome, Exits Chap. 1, v.I
It started with silence when there should have been noise. All the nomes were used to the disÐtant thumping and murmuring of the humans during the long daylight hours, so they didnât notice it. Now it was gone they could hear the strange, oppressive silence. There were days, of course, when humans didnât come into the StoreÊ for instance, Arnold Bros (est. 1905) sometimes allowed them almost a week off between the excitement of Christmas Fayre and the hurlyÐburly of Winter Sale Starts Today! But the nomes were used to this, it was part of the gentle rhythm of Store life. This wasnât the right day.
After several hours of silence they just stopped telling one another not to worry, it was probably just some special day or something, like that time when the Store had shut for a week for redecÐoration, and one or two of the braver or more inquisitive ones risked a quick glance above floor level.
Emptiness stretched away between the familiar counters. And there didnât seem to be much stock around.
ÎItâs always like this after a Sale,â they said. ÎAnd then, before you know where you are, all the shelves are filled up again. Nothing to get upset about at all. Itâs all part of Arnold Bros (est. 1905)âs great plan.â
And they sat in silence, or hummed a little tune, or found something to occupy their minds, to stop thinking unpleasant thoughts. It didnât work.
And then, when the humans came in and started taking the few things that were left off the shelves and counters, and piling them inÊ great boxes and taking them down to the garage and loading them on to the lorries...
And started taking up the floorboards...
Masklin awoke. People were prodding him. Somewhere in the distance other people were shouting. It was somehow familiar.
ÎGet up, quickly!â said Gurder.
ÊWhatâs happening?â said Masklin, yawning.
ÎHumans are taking the Store to bits!â
Masklin sat bolt upright.
ÊÎThey canât be! Itâs not time!â he said.
ÊÎTheyâre doing it just the same!â
Masklin stood up, struggling into his clothes. He jigged sideways across the floor, one leg out of his trousers, and thumped the Thing.
ÊÎHey!' he said ÎYou said the demolition wasnât for ages yet!â
ÎFourteen days,â said the Thing
ÊÎItâs starting now!â
ÎThis is probably the removal of remaining stock to new premises, and preliminary works,â said the Thing.
ÎOh, good. That should make everyone feel a lot better. Why didnât you tell us?â
Î1 was not aware you did not know.â
ÎWell, we didnât. So what do you suggest we. do now?â
ÎLeave as soon as possible.â
Masklin snarled. He bad expected two more weeks to solve all the problems. They could have stockpiled stuff to take with them. They could:
have made proper plans. Even two weeks was hardly long enough. Now even the thought of one week was a luxury.
He went out into the milling, disorganized crowd. Fortunately the boards hadnât been taken up in an inhabited area ÷ some of the more sensible refugees said that only a few had been taken up in the far end of the Gardening Department, so the humans could get at the water pipes but nomes living nearby were taking no chances.
There was a thump overhead. A few minutes later a breathless nome arrived and reported that the carpets were being rolled up and taken away.
That caused a terrified silence. Masklin realized that they were all looking at him.
ÎEr,â he said.
Then he said, ÎI think everyone ought to get as much food as they can carry and go down to the basement, near to the garage.â
ÎYou mean you still think we should do it?â said Gurder.
We havenât much choice, have we?â
ÎBut we were ÷ you said we should take as much as we could from the Store, all the wire and tools and things. And books,â said Gurder.
Weâll be lucky if we can just take ourselves. Thereâs no time!â
Another messenger came running up. It was one of Dorcasâs group. He whispered something to Masklin, who gave a strange smile.
ÎCan it be that Arnold Bros (est. 1905) has abandoned us in our hour of need?â said Gurder.
ÎI donât think so. He may be helping us,â said Masklin. ÎBecause, well, youâll never guess where the humans are putting all this stuff...â
i. &nbs p; And the Outsider said, Glory to the Name of Arnold Bros (est. 1905).
ii. &nbs p; For he hath Sent us a Lorry, and the Humans are loading it now with all manner of Things needful to nomes. It is a Sign. Everything Must Go. IncludÐing us.
From The Book of Nome, Exits Chap. 2, v.I-II
Half an hour later Masklin lay on the girder with Dorcas, looking down at the garage.
He had never seen it so busy. Humans sleep-walked across the floor, carrying bundles of carpet into the backs of some of the lorries. Yellow things, like a cross between a very small lorry and a very large armchair, inched around them, stacking boxes.
Dorcas passed him the telescope.
ÎBusy little things, ainât they,â he said converÐsationally. ÎBeen at it all morning, they have. A couple of lorries have already gone out and come back, so they canât be going very far.â
ÎThe letter we saw said something about a new Store,â said Masklin. Perhaps theyâre taking the stuff there.â
ÊÎCould be. Itâs mostly carpets at the moment, and some of the big frozen humans from FashÐions.â
Masklin made a face. According to Gurder, the big pink humans that stood in Fashions, and KidÐdies Klothes, and Young Living, and never moved at all, were those who had incurred Arnold Bros (est. 1905)âs displeasure. They had been turned into horrible pink stuff, and some said they could even be taken apart. But certain Klothian philosophers said no, they were particularly good humans, who had been allowed to stay in the Store for ever and not made to disappear at Closing Time. Religion was very hard to understand.
As Masklin watched, the big roller door creaked upwards and a lorry nearby started with a roar and ground slowly out into the blinding dayÐlight.
What we need,â he said, Îis a lorry with a lot of stuff from the Ironmongery Department. Wire, you know, and tools and things. Have you seen any food?â
ÎLooked like a lot of stuff from the Food Hall on the first lorry out,â said Dorcas.
ÎWeâll have to make do, then.â
ÎWhatâll I do,â said Dorcas slowly, Îif they load it all up on a lorry and drive it away? Theyâre working powerful fast, for humans.â
ÎSurely they canât empty the Store in one day?â said Masklin.
Dorcas shrugged.
ÎWho knows?â he said.
ÎYouâll have to stop the lorry from leaving,â said Masklin.
ÎHow? By throwing myself under it?â
ÎAny way you can think of,â said Masklin.
Dorcas grinned. ÎIâll find a way. The lads are getting used to this place.â
Refugees were flowing into the Ironmongery Department from all over the Store, filling all the space under the floor with a frightened buzz of whispered conversation. Many of them looked up as Masklin walked past, and what he saw in their faces terrified him.
They believe I can help, he thought. Theyâre looking at me as if Iâm their only hope.
And I donât know what to do. Probably none of it will work, we should have had more time. He forced himself to look brimful of confidence, and it seemed to satisfy people. All they wanted to know was that someone, somewhere, knew what they were doing. Masklin wondered who it was; it certainly wasnât him.
The news was bad from everywhere. A lot of the Gardening Department had been cleared. Most of the Clothes departments were empty. The counÐters were being ripped out of Cosmetics, although fortunately not many nomes lived there. Masklin could hear, even here, the thud and crunch of the work going on.
Finally he could stand it no longer. Too many people kept staring at him. He went back down to the garage, where Dorcas was still watching from his spy post on top of the girder.
ÎWhatâs happened?â said Masklin.
The old nome pointed to the lorry immediately below them.
ÎThatâs the one we want,â he said. ÎItâs got all sorts in it. Lots of stuff from the Do-It-Yourself Department. Thereâs even some haberdashery things, needles and whatnot. All the stuff you told me to look out for.
Weâve got to stop them driving it out!â saidÊ Masklin. Dorcas grinned.
ÎThe machinery that raises the door wonât work,â he said. ÎThe fuse has gone.â
Whatâs a fuse?â said Masklin.
ÊDorcas picked up a long, thick red bar lying by his feet. ÎThis is,â he said.
ÎYou took it?â
ÎTricky job, we had to tie a bit of string roundÊ it. Made a powerful big spark when we pulled it out.â
ÎBut I expect they can put another one in,â said Masklin.
ÎOh, they did,â said Dorcas, with a self-satisfied expression. ÎTheyâre not daft. Didnât work though, because after we took the fuse out the lads went and cut the wires inside the wall in a couple of places. Very dangerous, but itâll take the humans for ever to find it.â
ÎHmm. But supposing they lever the door up?â
ÎWonât do them any good. Itâs not as if the lorry will go, anyway.â
ÎWhy not?â
Dorcas pointed downwards. Masklin watched, and after a moment saw a couple of small figures scurry out from under the lorry and dive into the shadows by the wall. They were carrying a pair of pliers.
A moment later a solitary figure hurried after them, dragging a length of wire.
ÎPowerful lot of wire them lorries need,â said Dorcas. ÎThis one ainât got so much, now.â Funny, isnât it. Take away a tiny spark and the lorryÊ wonât go. Donât worry, though, I reckon weâll know where to put it all back laterâ
There was a clang down below. One of the humans had given the door a kick.
ÎTemper, temper,â said Dorcas mildly.
ÎYouâve thought of just about everything,â said Masklin, admiringly.
ÎI hope so,â said Dorcas. ÎBut weâd better make sure, hadnât we.â He stood up and produced a large white flag, which he waved over his head. There was an answering flicker of white from the shadÐows on the far side of the garage.
And then the lights went out.
ÎUseful thing, electricity,â said Dorcas, in the darkness. There was a rumble of annoyance from the humans below, and then a jangling noise as one of them walked into something. After some grunting and a few more thuds, one of the humans found a doorway out into the basement, and the rest of them followed it.
ÎDonât you think theyâll suspect something?â said Masklin.
ÎThereâs other humans working in the Store, theyâll probably think they caused it,â said Dorcas.
ÎThat electricity is amazing stuff,â said Masklin. ÎCan you make it? The Count de Ironmongri was very mysterious about it.â
ÎThatâs because the Ironmongri donât know anyÐthing,â sniffed Dorcas. ÎJust how to steal it. I canât seem to get the hang of the reading business, but young Vinto has been looking at books for me. He says making electricity is very simple. You just need to get hold of some stuff called you-ranium. I think itâs a kind of metal.â
ÎIs there some in the Ironmongery DepartÐment?â said Masklin hopefully.
ÎApparently not,â said Dorcas.
The Thing wasnât very helpful, either.
'I doubt if you are ready for nuclear power yet,â it said. ÎTry windmills.â
Masklin finished putting his possessions, such as they were, in a bag.
ÎWhen we leave,â he said, Îyou wonât be able to talk, will you? You need electricity to drink.â
ÎThat is the case, yes.â
ÎCanât you tell us which way we should go?â
ÎNo. However, I detect radio traffic indicative of airline activity to the north of here.â
Masklin hesitated. ÎThatâs good, is it?â
ÎIt means there are flying machines.â
ÎAnd we can fly all the way home?â said Masklin. ÎNo. But they may be the next step. it may be possible to communicate with the starship. But first, you must ride the lorry.â
ÎAfter that, I should think anything is possible,â said Masklin gloomily. He looked expectantly at the Thing, and then noticed with horror that its lights were going off, one by one.
ÎThing!â
ÎWhen you are successful, we will talk again,â said the Thing.
ÎBut youâre supposed to help us!â said Masklin.Ê ÎI suggest you consider deeply the proper meanÐing of the word ãhelpä,â said the box. ÎEither you are intelligent nomes, or just clever animals. Itâs up to you to find out which.â
What?â
The last light went off.
ÎThing?â
The lights stayed off. The little black box conÐtrived to look extremely dead and silent.
ÎBut I relied on you to help us sort out the driving and everything! Youâre just going to leave me like this?â
If anything, the box got darker. Masklin stared at it.
Then he thought: itâs all very well for it. EveryÐoneâs relying on me. Iâve got no one to rely on. I wonder if the old Abbot felt like this? I wonder how he stood it for so long? Itâs always me who has to do everything, no one ever thinks about me or what I want...
The shabby cardboard door swung aside and Grimma stepped in.
She looked from the darkened Thing to MaskÐlin.
ÎTheyâre asking for you out there,â she said quietly. ÎWhy is the Thing all dark?â
ÎIt just said goodbye! It said it wonât help any more!â Masklin wailed. ÎIt just said we have to prove we can do things for ourselves and it will speak to us when weâre successful! What shall I do?â
I know what I could do, he thought. I could do with a cool flannel. I could do with a bit of underÐstanding. I could do with a bit of sympathy. Good old Grimma. You can rely on her.
What youâll do,â she said sharply, Îis jolly well stop moping and getup and go out there and get things organized!â
ÎWha÷â
ÎSort things out! Make new plans! Give people orders! Get on with it!â
ÎBut÷â
ÎDo it now!â she snapped.
Masklin stood up.
ÎYou shouldnât talk to me like that,â he said plaintively. ÎIâm the leader, you know.â
She stood arms akimbo, glaring at him.
ÎOf course youâre the leader,â she said. ÎDid I say you werenât the leader? Everyone knows youâre the leader! Now get out there and lead!â
He lurched past. She tapped him on the shoulÐder.
ÎAnd learn to listen,â she added.
ÎEh? What do you mean?â
ÎThe Thingâs a sort of thinking machine, isnât it? Thatâs what Dorcas said. Well, machines say exactly what they mean, donât they?â
ÎYes, I suppose so, but-â
Grimma gave him a bright, triumphant smile.
ÎWell, it said ãWhenä,â she said. ÎThink about it. It could have said ãIf ã.Î
Night came. Masklin thought the humans were never going to leave. One of them, with a torch and a box of tools, spent a long time examining fuse boxes and peering at the wiring in the baseÐment. Now at last even it was gone, grumbling and slamming the door behind it.
ÊAfter a little while, the lights came on in the garage.
There was a rustling in the walls, and then aÊ dark tide flowed out from under benches. Some of the young nomes in the lead carried hooks on the end of thread lines, which they swung up to theÊ lorryâs covers. They caught, one after another, and the nomes swarmed up them.
Other nomes brought thicker string, which was tied to the ends of the thread and gradually dragged upwards...
Masklin ran along, under the endless shadow of the lorry, to the oily darkness under the engine where Dorcasâs teams were already dragging their equipment into position. Dorcas himself was in the cab, rooting around among the thick wires.
There was a sizzling noise, and then the light in the cab came on.
ÎThere,â said Dorcas. ÎNow we can see what weâre at. Come on, lads! Letâs have a bit of effort!â
When he Îturned around and saw Masklin he made as if to hide his hands behind his back, and then thought better of it. Both of them were thrust into what Masklin could now see were the fingers cut out of rubber gloves.
ÎAh,â said Dorcas, Îdidnât know you were there.Ê Bit of a trade secret, see? Electricity canât abide
rubber. It stops the stuff from biting you.â He ducked as a team of nomes swung a long wooden beam across the cab and started to fasten it to the gear lever.
ÎHow longâs it going to take?â shouted Masklin, as another team ran past dragging a ball of string. There was quite a din in the cab now, and threads and bits of wood were moving in every direction in
Êwhat he hoped was an organized way.
ÎCould be an hour, maybe,â said Dorcas, and added, not unkindly, ÎWeâd get on quicker without people in the way.â
Masklin nodded, and explored the rear of the cab. The lorry was old, and he found another hole for a bundle of wires which, at a squeeze, would take a nome as well. He crawled out into the open air and then found another gap which let him into the rear of the lorry.
The first nomes aboard had dragged up one end of a thin piece of wood, which was acting as a gangplank. The rest were scrambling up it now.
Masklin had put Granny Morkie in charge of this. The old woman had a natural talent for making frightened people do things.
ÎSteep?â she was shouting at a fat nome, who had got halfway up and was clinging there in fright.
ÎCall this steep? It ainât steep, itâs a stroll! Want me to come down there and help you?â
The mere threat budged him from his perch and he nearly ran the rest of the way, ducking
Êgratefully into the shadows of the cargo.
ÎEveryone had better try to find somewhere soft to lie down,â said Masklin. ÎIt could be a rough journey. And you must send all the strongest nomes up towards the cab. Weâre going to need everyone we can get, believe me.â
She nodded, and then shouted at a family that was blocking the gangway.
Masklin looked down at the endless streamÊ of people climbing into the lorry, many of themâ
staggering under the weight of possessions.
Funny, but now he felt heâd done everything he could. Everything was ticking over like a, like a,Ê like something that went tick. Either all the plans would work, or they wouldnât. Either the nomes could act together, or they couldnât.
He recalled the picture of Gulliver. It probably wasnât real, Gurder had said. Books often had things in them that werenât really real. But it would be nice to think that nomes could agree on something long enough to be like the little people in the book...
ÎWell, itâs all going well, then,â he said vaguely.
Well enough.â Granny nodded.
ÎIt would be a good idea if we found out exactly what was in all these boxes and things,â Masklin ventured, Îbecause we might have to get out quickly when we stop and÷â
ÎI tole Torrit to see to it,â said Granny. ÎDonât you worry about it.â
ÎOh,â said Masklin weakly ÎGoodâ
He hadnât left himself anything to do.
He went back to the cab out of sheer well, not boredom, because his heart was pounding like a drum ÷ but out of restlessness.
Dorcasâs nomes had already built a wooden platform above the steering wheel and right in front of the big window. Dorcas himself was back down on the floor of the cab, drilling the driving teams.
ÎRight!â he shouted. ÎGive me. . . First Gear!â
ÎPedal Down ... two, three ...Î chorused the team on the clutch pedal.
ÎPedal Up. . . two, three.. .Î shouted the accelÐerator team.
ÎLever Up. . . two, three. . .Î echoed the nomes by the gear lever.
ÎPedal Up ... two, three, four!â the leader of the clutch team threw Dorcas a salute. ÎGear all changed, sir!â he shouted.
ÎThat was terrible. Really terrible,â said Dorcas. Whatâs happened to the accelerator team, eh? Get that pedal down!â
ÎSorry, Dorcas.â
Masklin tapped Dorcas on the shoulder. ÎKeep doing it!â Dorcas commanded. ÎI want you dead smooth all the way up to fourth. Yes? What? Oh, itâs you.â
ÎYes, itâs me. Everyoneâs nearly on,â said MaskÐlin. ÎWhen will you be ready?â
ÎThis lot wonât be ready ever.â
ÎOh.â
ÎSo we might as well start whenever you like and pick it up as we go along. We canât even try steering until itâs moving, of course.â
ÎWeâre going to send alot more people to help you,â said Masklin.
ÊÎOh, good,â said Dorcas. ÎJust what I need, lots more people who donât know their right from their left.â
ÎHow are you going to know which way to steer?â
ÎSemaphore,â said Dorcas firmly. ÎSemaphore?â
ÎSignalling with flags. You just tell my lad up on the platform what you want done, and Iâll watch the signals. If weâd had one more week I reckon I could have rigged up some sort of telephone.â
ÎFlags,â said Masklin. Will that work?â
ÎItâd better, hadnât it. We can give it a try later on.â
And now it was later on. The last nome scouts had climbed aboard. In the back of the lorry most of the people made themselves as comfortable as possible and lay, wide awake, in the darkness.
Masklin was up on the platform with Angalo, Gurder and the Thing. Gurder knew even less about lorries than Masklin, but it was felt best to have him there, just in case. After all, they were stealing Arnold Bros (est. 1905)âs lorry. Someone might have to do some explaining. But heâd drawn the line about having Bobo in the cab. The rat was back with everyone else.
Grimma was there, too. Gurder asked her what she was doing there. She asked him what he was doing there. They both looked at Masklin.
ÎShe can help me with the reading,â he said,Ê secretly relieved. He wasnât, despite lots of effort, all that good at it. There seemed to be a knack he couldnât get the hang of. Grimma, on the other hand, seemed to do it now without thinking. IfÊ her brain was exploding, it was doing it in unnoticeable ways.
She nodded smugly and propped The High Way Code open in front of him.
ÎThereâs things youâve got to do,â he said uncerÐtainly. ÎBefore you start, youâve got to look in a mur÷â
Î÷mirror÷â said Grimma.
Î÷.mirror. Thatâs what it says here. Mirror,â said Masklin, firmly.
He looked enquiringly at Angalo, who shrugged.
ÎI donât know anything about that,â he said. ÎMyÊ driver used to look at it, but I donât know why.â
ÎDo you have to look for anything special? I mean, perhaps you have to make a face in it or something,â said Masklin.
Whatever it is, weâd better do things properly,â said Gurder firmly. He pointed. ÎThereâs a mirror up there, near the ceiling.â
ÎDaft place to put it,â said Masklin. He managed to hook it with a grapnel and, after some effort, pulled himself up to it.
ÎCan you see anything?â Gurder called out.
ÎJust me.â
Well, come on back down. Youâve done it, thatâs the main thing.â
Masklin slid back down to the decking, which wobbled under him.
Grimma peered at the Code.
ÎThen youâve got to signal your intentions,â sheâ said. ÎThatâs clear, anyway. Signaller?â
One of Dorcasâs assistants stepped forward a bit uncertainly, holding his two white flags carefully downwards.
ÎYes, sir maâam?â he said.
ÎTell Dorcas÷â Grimma looked at the others.
ÊÎTell him weâre ready to start.â
ÊÎExcuse me,â said Gurder. ÎIf itâs anyoneâs job to tell them when weâre ready to start, itâs my job to tell them weâre ready to start. I want it to be quite clear that Iâm the person who tells people to start.â He looked sheepishly at Grimma. ÎEr. Weâre ready to start,â he said.
ÎRight you are, maâam.â The signaller waved his arms briefly. From far below the engineerâs voice boomed back: ÎReady!â
ÎWell, then,â said Masklin. ÎThis Îis it, then.â
ÎYes,â said Gurder, glaring at Grimma. ÎIs there anything weâve forgotten?â
ÎLots of things, probably,â said Masklin.
ÎToo late now, at any rate,â said Gurder.
ÎYes.â
ÎYes.â
ÎRight then.â
ÎRight.â
They stood in silence for a moment.
ÎShall you give the order, or shall I?â saidÊ Masklin.
ÎI was wondering whether to ask Arnold Bros (est. 1905) to watch over us and keep us safe,â said Gurder. ÎAfter all, we may be leaving the Store but this is still his lorry.â He grinned wretchedly, and sighed. ÎI wish heâd give us some sort of sign,â he said, Îto show he approved.â
ÎReady when you are, up there!â shouted Dorcas. Masklin went to the edge of the platform and leaned on the flimsy rail.
The whole of the floor of the cab was covered in nomes, holding ropes in readiness or waiting by their levers and pulleys. They stood in absolute silence in the shadows, but every face was turnedÊ upwards, so that Masklin looked down at a sea ofÊ frightened and excited blobs.
He waved his hand.
ÎStart the engine,â he said, and his voice sounded unnaturally loud in the expectant silence.
He walked back and looked out into the bright emptiness of the garage. There were a few other lorries parked against the opposite wall, and one or two of the small yellow loading trucks stood where the humans had left them. To think heâd once called it a lorry nest! Garage, that was the word. It was amazing, the feeling you got from knowing the right names. You felt in control. It was as if knowing what the right name was gave you a sort of lever.
There was a whirring noise from somewhere in, front of them, and then the platform shook to a thunder roll. Unlike thunder, it didnât die away. The engine had started.
Masklin grabbed hold of the rail before he was shaken off, and felt Angalo tug on his sleeve.
ÎIt always sounds like this!â he shouted above the din. ÎYou get used to it after a while!â
ÎGood!â It wasnât a noise. It was too loud to be called a noise. It was more like solid air.
ÎI think weâd better practise a bit! To get the hang of it! Shall I tell the signaller that we want to move forward very slowly?â
Masklin nodded grimly. The signaller thought for a moment, and then waved his flags.
Masklin could distantly hear Dorcas yelling orders. There was a grinding noise, followed by a jolt that almost knocked him over. He managed to land on his hands and knees, and looked into Gurderâs frightened face.
Weâre moving!â shouted the Stationeri.
Masklin stared out of the windscreen.
ÎYes, and you know what?â he yelled, springing up. Weâre moving backwards!â
Angalo staggered over to the signaller, who had dropped one of his flags.
ÎForward slowly, I said! Forward slowly! Not backward! Forward!â
ÎI signalled Forward!â
ÎBut weâre going backward! Signal them to go forward!â
The signaller scrabbled for his other flag and waved frantically at the teams below.
ÎNo, donât signal forward, just signal them to sto÷â Masklin began.
There was a sound from the far end of the lorÐry. The only word to describe it was Îcrunchâ, but thatâs far too short and simple a word to describe the nasty, complicated, metallic noise and the jolt that threw Masklin on his stomach again. The engine stopped.
The echoes died away.
ÎSorree!â Dorcas called out, in the distance. They heard him talking in a low, menacing voice to the teams: ÎSatisfied? Satisfied, are we? When I said move the Gear Lever up and left and up I meant up Îand left and up, not up and right and up! Right?â
ÎYour right or our right, Dorcas?â
ÎAny right!â ÎNo, but÷â
ÎDonât you but me!â
ÎYes, but-â
Masklin and the others sat down as the arguÐment skidded back and forth below them. Gurder was still lying on the planks.
We actually moved!â he was whispering. ÎArnold Bros (est. 1905) was right. Everything Must Go!â
ÎIâd like it to go a little further, if itâs all right by him,â said Angalo grimly.
ÊÎHello up there!â Dorcasâs voice boomed with mad cheerfulness. ÎLittle bit of teething trouble down here. All sorted out now. Ready when you are!â
ÎShould I look in the mirror again, what do you think?â said Masklin to Grimma. She shrugged.
ÎI shouldnât bother,â said Angalo. ÎLetâs just go forwards. And as soon as possible, I think. I can smell dies-all. We must have knocked over some drums of it or something.â
ÎThatâs bad, is it?â said Masklin.
ÎIt burns,â said Angalo. ÎIt just needs a spark or something to set it off.â
The engine roared into life again. This time they did inch forward, after some grinding noises, and rolled across the floor until the lorry was in front of the big steel door. It stopped with a slight jerk.
ÎLike to try a few practice turns,â shouted Dorcas. ÎSmooth out a few rough edges!â
ÎI really think it would be a very bad idea to stay here,â said Angalo urgently.
ÎYouâre right,â said Masklin. ÎThe sooner we get out of here the better. Signal Dorcas to open the door.â
The signaller hesitated. ÎI donât think weâve got a signal for that,â he said. Masklin leaned over the rail.
ÎDorcas!â
ÎYes?â
ÎOpen the door! Weâve got to get out now!â
The distant figure cupped his hand to its ear.
What?â
ÎI said open the door! Itâs urgent!â Dorcas appeared to consider this for a while, and then raised his megaphone.
ÎYouâll laugh when I tell you this,â he said.
What was that?â said Grimma.
ÎHe said weâre going to laugh,â said. Angalo.
ÎOh. Good.â
ÎCome on!â shouted Masklin. Dorcasâs reply was lost in the din from the engine.
ÎWhat?â shouted Masklin.
ÎWhat?â
ÎWhat did you say?â
ÎI said, in all this rush I clean forgot about the door!â
ÎWhatâd he say?â said Gurder.
ÊMasklin turned and looked at the door. Dorcas had been very proud of the way heâd stopped it opening. Now it had an extremely closed look If something with no face could look smug, the door had managed it.
He turned back in exasperation, and also in time to see the small door to the rest of the Store swing slowly open. There was a figure there,
behind a little circle of sharp white light.
His terrible torch, Masklin thought again.
It was Prices Slashed.
Masklin felt his mind begin to think very clearly and slowly.
Itâs just a human, it said. Itâs nothing scary. Just a human, with its name on it in case it forgets who it is, like all those female humans in the Store with names like ÎTracyâ and ÎSharonâ and ÎMrs J. E. Williams, Supervisorâ. This is just old ÎSecurityâ again. He lives down in the boiler-room and drinks tea. Heâs heard the noise.
Heâs come to find out what made it.
That is, us.
ÎOh, no,â whispered Angalo, as the figure lurched across the floor. ÎDo you see what itâs got in its mouth?â
ÎItâs a cigarette. Iâve seen humans with it before. What about it?â said Masklin.
ÎItâs alight,â said Angalo. ÎDo you think it canât even smell the dies-all?â
ÎWhat happens if it catches alight, then?â said Masklin, suspecting that he knew the answer.
ÎIt goes whoomph,â said Angalo.
ÎJust whoomph?â
'Whoomph is enough.â
The human came nearer. Masklin could see its eyes now. Humans werenât very good at seeing nomes even when they were standing still, but even a human would wonder why a lorry was driving itself around its garage in the middle of the night.
Security arrived at the cab and reached out slowly for the door-handle. His torch shone in through the side window, and at that moment Gurder reared up, trembling with rage.
ÎBegone, foul fiend!â he yelled,â illuminated as by a spotlight. ÎHeed ye the Signs of Arnold Bros (est. 1905)! No Smoking! Exit This Way!â
The humanâs face wrinkled in ponderous astonÐishment and then, as slowly as the drift of clouds, became an expression of panic. It let go of the door-handle, turned, and began to head for the little door at what, for a human, was high speed. As it did so the glowing cigarette fell from its mouth and, turning over and over, dropped slowly towards the floor.
Masklin and Angalo looked at each other, and then at the signaller.
ÎGo fast!â they shouted.
A moment later the entire lorry juddered as the teams tackled the complicated process of changing gear. Then it rolled forward.
ÊÎFast! I said fast!â Masklin shouted.
ÎWhatâs going on?â shouted Dorcas. ÎWhat about the door?â
ÎWeâll open the door! Weâll open the door!â shouted Masklin.
ÎHow?â
ÎWell, it didnât look very thick, did it?â
The world of nomes is, to humans, a rapid world. They live so fast that the things that happen around them seem quite slow, so the lorry seemed to drift across the floor, up the ramp and hit the door in a leisurely way. There was a long-drawn-out boom and the noise of bits of metal being torn apart, a scraping noise across the roof of the cab, and then there was no door at all, only darkness studded with lights.
ÎLeft! Go left!â Angalo screamed.
The lorry skidded around slowly, bounced lazily off a wall, and rolled a little way down the street.
ÎKeep going! Keep going! Now straighten up!â
A bright light that shone briefly on the wall outside the cab.
And then, behind them, a sound like Îwhoomphâ.
i. &nbs p; Arnold Bros (est. 1905) said, A1t~ is now FinÐished;
ii. &nbs p; All Curtains, Carpeting, Bedding, Lingerie, Toys, Millinery, Haberdashery, Ironmongery, ElecÐtrical;
iii. &nbs p; All walls, floors, ceilings, lifts, moving stairs; iv. Everything Must Go.
From The Book of Nome, Exits Chap. 3 v.I-IV
Later on, when the next chapters of The Book of Nome came to be written, they said the end of the Store started with a bang. This wasnât true, but was put in because bang sounded more impressive. In fact, the ball of yellow and orange fire that rolled out of the garage, carrying the remains of the door with it, just made a noise like a giant dog gently clearing its throat.
Whoomph.
The nomes werenât in a position to take much notice of it at the time. They were more conÐcerned with the noise made by other things nearly hitting them.
Masklin had been prepared for other vehicles on the road. The High Way Code had a lot to say about it. It was important not to drive into them. What was worrying him was the way they seemed determined to run into the lorry. They emitted long blaring noises, like sick cows.
ÎLeft a bit!â Angalo shouted. ÎThen right just a smidgen, then go straight!â
ÎSmidgen?â said the signaller, slowly. ÎI donât think I know a code for smidgen. Could we÷â
ÎSlow! Now left a bit! Weâve got to get on the right side of the road!â
Grimma peered over the top of The High Way Code.
ÎWe are on the right side,â she said.
ÎYes, but the right side should be the left side!â Masklin jabbed at the page in front of them. ÎIt says here weâve got to show cons consy÷â
ÎConsideration,â murmured Grimma.
Î÷consideration for other road-users,â he said. A jolt threw him forward. ÎWhat was that?â he said.
ÎUs going on to the pavement! Right! Right!â
Masklin caught a brief glimpse of a brightly lit shop window before the lorry hit it sideways on and bounced back on to the road in a shower of glass.
ÎNow left, now left, now right, right! Straight! Left, I said left!â Angalo peered at the bewildering pattern of lights and shapes in front of them.
ÎThereâs another road here,â he said. ÎLeft! Give me left! Lots and lots of left! More left than that. ... !Î
ÎThereâs a sign,â said Masklin, helpfully.
ÎLeft!â shrieked Angalo. ÎNow right. Right! Right!â
ÎYou wanted left,â said the signaller accusingly.
ÎAnd now I want right! Lots of right! Duck!â
ÎWe havenât got a signal for÷â
This time Îwhoomphâ wouldnât have done. It was definitely Îbangâ. The lorry hit a wall, ground along it in a spray of sparks, rolled into a pile of dustbins and stopped.
There was silence, except for the hissing sounds and pink, pink noises from the engine.
Then Dorcasâs voice came up from the darkÐness, slow and full of menace.
ÎWould you mind telling us down here,â it said, Îwhat youâre doing up there?â
ÎWeâll have to think of a better way of steering,â Angalo called down. ÎAnd lights. There should be a switch somewhere for lights.â
Masklin struggled to his feet. The lorry appeared to be stuck in a dark, narrow road. There were no lights anywhere.
He helped Gurder stand up, and brushed him down. The Stationeri looked bewildered.
Weâre there?â he said.
ÎNot quite,â said Masklin. Weâve stopped to, er, sort out a few things. While theyâre doing that I think weâd better go back and check that everyoneâs all right. They must be getting pretty worried. You come too, Grimma.â
They climbed down and left Angalo and Dorcas deep in argument about steering, lights, clear instructions and the need for a proper supply of all three.
There was a gabble of voices in the back of the lorry, mixed with the crying of babies. Quite a few nomes had been bruised by the throwing about, and Granny Morkie was tying a splint to the broken leg of a nome who had been caught by a falling box when they hit the wall.
Wee bit rougher than the last time,â she comÐmented drily, tying a knot in the bandage. ÎWhyâve we stopped?â
ÎJust to sort out a few things,â said Masklin, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt. Weâll be moving again soon. Now that everyone knows what to expect.â He gazed down at the dark shadowy length of the lorry, and inquisitiveness overcame him.
ÎWhile weâre waiting, Iâm going to take a look outside,â he said.
ÎWhat on earth for?â said Grimma.
ÎJust to, you know, look around,â said Masklin awkwardly. He nudged Gurder. ÎWant to come?â he said.
ÎWhat? Outside? Me?â The Stationeri looked terÐrified,
ÎYouâll have to sooner or later. Why not now?â Gurder hesitated for a moment, and then shrugged.
Will we be able to see the Store,â he licked his dry lips, Îfrom the outside?â he said.
ÎProbably. We havenât really gone very far,â said Masklin, as diplomatically as he could.
A team of nomes helped them over the end of the lorry and they swung down on to what Gurder would almost certainly have called the floor. It was damp, and a fine spray hung in the air. Masklin breathed deeply. This was outside, all right. Real air, with a slight chill to it. It smelled fresh, not as though it had been breathed by thousands of nomes before him.
ÎThe sprinklers have come on,â said Gurder.
ÎThe what?â
ÎThe sprinklers,â said Gurder. ÎTheyâre in the ceiling, you know, in case of f·Î He stopped, and looked up. ÎOh, my,â he said.
ÎI think you mean the rain,â said Masklin.
ÎOh, my.â
ÎItâs just water coming out of the sky,â said Masklin. He felt something more was expected of him. ÎItâs wet,â he added, Îand you can drink it. Rain. You donât have to have pointy heads. It just rolls off anyway.â
ÎOh, my.â
ÎAre you all right?â
Gurder was trembling. ÎThereâs no roof!â he moaned. ÎAnd itâs so big!â
Masklin patted him on the shoulder.
ÎOf course, all this is new to you,â he said. ÎYou mustnât worry if you donât understand everything.â
ÎYouâre secretly laughing at me, arenât you!â said Gurder.
ÎNot really. I know what itâs like to feel frightÐened.â
Gurder pulled himself together. ÎFrightened? Me? Donât be foolish. Iâm quite all right,â he said. ÎJust a little, er, surprised. I, er, wasnât expecting it to be quite so, quite so, quite so outside. Now Iâve had time to come to terms with it, I feel much better. Well, well. So this is what itâs like,â he turned the word around his tongue, like a new sweet, Îoutside. So, er, big. Is this all of it, or is there any more?â
ÎLots,â said Masklin. ÎWhere we lived, there was nothing but outside from one edge of the world to the other.â
ÎOh,â said Gurder weakly. ÎWell, I think this will be enough outside to be going on with. Very good.â
Masklin turned and looked up at the lorry. It was almost wedged in an alleyway littered with rubbish. There was a large dent in the end of it.
The opening at the far end of the alley was bright with street lights in the drizzle. As he watched, a vehicle swished by with a blue light flashing. It was singing. He couldnât think of any other word to describe it.
ÎHow odd,â said Gurder.
ÎIt used to happen sometimes at home,â said Masklin. It was secretly rather pleasing, after all this time, to be the one who knew things~ ÎYouâd hear ones go along the motorway like that. Dee-dah dee-dah DEE-DAH DEE-DAH dee-dah. I think itâs just to get people to get out of the way.â
They crept along the gutter and craned to look over the pavement at the corner, just as another bawling car hurtled past.
ÎOh, Bargains Galore!â said Gurder, and put his hands over his mouth.
The Store was on fire.
Flames fluttered at some of the upper windows like curtains in a breeze. A pall of smoke rose gently from the roof and made a darker column against the rainy sky.
The Store was having its last sale. It was holdÐing a Grand Final Clearance of specially selected sparks, and flames to suit every pocket.
ÊHumans bustled around in the street below
it.ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ There were a couple of lorries with ladders on them. It looked as though they were spraying water into the building.
Masklin looked sidelong at Gurder, wondering what the nome was going to do. In fact he took it a lot better than Masklin would have believed, but when he spoke it was in a wound-up way, as if he was trying to keep his voice level.
ÎItâs. . . itâs not how I imagined it,â he croaked.
ÎNo,â said Masklin.
ÎWe. . . we got out just in time.â
ÎYes.â
Gurder coughed. It was as if heâd just had a long debate with himself and had reached a deciÐsion. ÎThanks to Arnold Bros (est. 1905),â he said firmly.
Pardon?â
Gurder stared at Masklinâs face. ÎIf he hadnât called you to the Store, weâd all still be in there,â he said, sounding more confident with every word.
ÎBut÷â Masklin paused. That didnât make any sense. If they hadnât left, there wouldnât have been a fire. Would there? Hard to be sure. Maybe some fire had got out of a fire bucket. Best not to argue. There were some things people werenât happy to argue about, he thought. It was all very puzzling.
ÎFunny heâs letting the Store burn,â he said.
ÎHe neednât,â said Gurder. ÎThereâs the sprinkÐlers, and thereâs these special things, to make the fire go out. Fire Exits, theyâre called. But he let the Store burn because we donât need it any more.â
There was a crash as the entire top floor fell in on itself.
ÎThere goes Consumer Accounts,â said Masklin. ÎI hope all the humans got out.â
ÎWho?â
ÎYou know. We saw their names on the doors. Salaries. Accounts. Personnel. General ManÐager,â said Masklin.
ÊÎIâm sure Arnold Bros (est. 1905) made arrangeÐments,â said Gurder.
Masklin shrugged. And then he saw, outlined against the firelight, the figure of Prices Slashed. There was no mistaking that hat. He was even holding his torch, and he was deep in conversaÐtion with some other humans. When he half turned, Masklin saw his face. He looked very angry.
He also looked very human. Without the terrible light, without the shadows of the Store at night, Prices Slashed was just another human.
On the other hand...
No, it was too complicated. And there were more important things to do.
ÎCome on,â he said. ÎLetâs get back. I think we should get as far away as possible as quickly as we can.â
ÎI shall ask Arnold Bros (est. 1905) to guide us and lead us,â said Gurder firmly.
ÎYes, good,â said Masklin. ÎGood idea. And whyÊ not? But now we really must÷â
ÎHas his Sign not said If You Do Not See What You Require, Please Ask?â said Gurder.
Masklin took him firmly by the arm. Everyone needs something, he thought. And you never
know.
ÎI pull this string,â said Angalo, indicating the thread over his shoulder and the way it disapÐpeared down into the depths of the cab, Îand the leader of the steering wheel left-puffing team will know I want to turn left. Because itâs tied to his arm. And this other one goes to the right-pulling team. So we wonât need so many signals and Dorcas can concentrate on the gears and things. And the brakes~ After all,â he added, Îwe canât always rely on a wall to run into when we want to stop.â
ÎWhat about lights?â said Masklin. Angalo beamed. ÎSignal for the lights,â he said, to the nome with flags. ÎWhat we did was, we tied threads to switches÷â
There was a click. A big metal arm moved across the windscreen, clearing away the rainÐdrops. They watched it for a while.
ÎDoesnât really illuminate much, does it?â said Grimma.
Wrong switch,â muttered Angalo. ÎSignal to leave the wipers on but put on the lights.â
There was some muffled argument below them, and then another click. Instantly the cab was filled with the dull throbbing sound of a human voice.
ÎItâs all right,â said Angalo. ÎItâs only the radio. But itâs not the lights, tell Dorcas~â
ÎI know what a radio is,â said Gurder. ÎYou donât have to tell me what a radio is.â
ÎWhat is it, then?â said Masklin, who didnât know.
ÎTwenty-Nine Ninety-Five, Batteries Extra,â said Gurder. ÎWith AM, FM, and Auto-Reverse Cassette. Bargain Offer, Not to Be RepeatÐed.â
ÎAm and Fum?â said Masklin.
ÎYes.â
The radio voice droned on.
Î÷ggest fire in the townâs history, with fireÐmen coming in from as far afield as Newtown. Meanwhile, police are searching for one of the storeâs lorries, last seen leaving the building just before÷â
ÎThe lights. The lights. Third switch along,â said Angalo. There was a few seconds pause, and then the alley in front of the lorry was bathed in white light.
ÎThere should be two, but one got broken when we left the Store,â said Angalo. ÎWell, then, are we ready?â
Î÷Anyone seeing the vehicle should contact Grimethorpe police on÷â
ÎAnd turn off the radio,â said Angalo. ÎThat mooing gets on my nerves.â
ÎI wish we could understand it,â said Masklin. ÎIâm sure theyâre fairly intelligent, if only we could understand it.â
He nodded at Angalo. ÎOkay,â he said. ÎLetâs go.â It seemed much better this time. The lorry scraped along the wall for a moment and then came free, and moved gently down the narrow
alley towards the lights at the far end. As the lorry came out from between the dark walls,
Angalo called for the brakes, and it stopped with only a mild jolt.
Which way?â he said. Masklin looked blank.
Gurder fumbled through the pages of the diary.
ÎIt depends on which way weâre going,â he said. ÎLook for signs saying, er, Africa. Or Canada, perhaps.â
ÎThereâs a sign,â said Angalo, peering through the rain. ÎIt says Town Centre. And then thereâs an arrow and it says÷â He squinted. ÎOnny÷â
ÎOne Way Street,â murmured Grimma.
ÎTown Centre doesnât sound like a good idea,â said Masklin.
ÊÎCanât seem to find it on the map, either,â said Gurder.
Weâll go the other way, then,â said Angalo, haulÐing on a thread.
ÎAnd Iâm not sure about One Way Street,â said Masklin. ÎI think you should only go along it one way.â
Well, we are,â said Angalo smugly. ÎWeâre going this way.â
The lorry rolled out of the side road and bumped neatly on to the pavement.
ÎLetâs have second gear,â said Angalo. ÎAnd a bit more go-faster pedal.â A car swerved slowly out of the lorryâs way, its horn sounding ÷ to nome ears
÷ like the lost wail of a foghorn.ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ
ÎShouldnât be allowed on the road, drivers like that,â said Angalo. There was a thump, and the remains of a street light bounced away. ÎAnd they put all this stupid stuff in the roadway, too,â he added.
ÎRemember to show consideration for other road- users,â said Masklin, severely.
ÎWell, I am, arenât I? Iâm not running into them, am I?â said Angalo. What was that thump?â
ÎSome bushes, I think,â said Masklin.
ÎSee what I mean? Why do they put things like that in the road?â
ÎI think the road is more sort of over to your right,â said Gurder.
ÎAnd it moves around, as well,â said Angalo sullenly, pulling the right-hand string slightÐly.
It was nearly midnight, and Grimethorpe was not a busy town after dark. Therefore there was no one rushing to run into the lorry as it slid out of Alderman Surley Way and roared up John Lennon Avenue, a huge and rather battered shape under the yellow sodium glare. The rain had stopped, but there were wisps of mist coiling across the road.
It was almost peaceful.
ÎRight, third gear,â said Angalo, Îand a bit fast er. Now, whatâs that sign coming up?â
Grimma and Masklin craned to see. ÎLooks like ãRoad Works Aheadä,â said Grimma in a puzzled voice.
ÎSounds good. Letâs have some more fast, down there.â
ÎYes, but,â said Masklin, Îwhy say it? I mean, you could understand ãRoad Doesnât Work Aheadä. Why tell us it works?â
ÎMaybe it means theyâre stopping putting kerbs and lights and bushes in it,â said Angalo.
ÎMaybe÷â
Masklin leaned over the edge of the platform. ÎStop!â he shouted. ÎLots and lots of stop!â The brake-pedal team looked up in astonishÐment, but obeyed. There was a scream from the tyres, yells from the nomes who were thrown forward, and then a lot of crunching and clanging from the front of the lorry as it skidded through an assortment of barriers and cones.
ÎThere had better,â said Angalo, when it had finally stopped, Îbe a very good reason for that.â
ÎIâve hurt my knee,â said Gurder.
ÎThere isnât any more road,â said Masklin, simply.
ÎOf course thereâs road,â snapped Angalo. ÎWeâre on it, arenât we?â
ÎLook down. Thatâs all. Just look down,â said Masklin.
Angalo peered down at the road ahead. The most interesting thing about it was that it wasnât. there. Then he turned to the signaller.
ÎCan we please have just a wee bit of backÐwards,â he said quietly.
ÎA smidgen?â said the signaller.
ÎAnd none of your cheek,â said Angalo. Grimma was also staring at the hole in the road. It was big. It was deep. A few pipes lurked in the depths.
ÎSometimes,â she said, ÎI think humans really donât understand anything about the proper use of language.â
She leafed through the Code as the lorry was reversed carefully away from the pit and, after crushing various things, driven on to the grass until the road was clear.
ÎItâs time we were sensible about this,â she said. ÎWe canât assume anything means what it says. So go slow.â
ÎI was driving perfectly safely,â said Angalo sulkily. ÎItâs not my fault if things are all wrong.â
ÎSo go slow, then.â
They stared in silence at the rolling road. Another sign loomed up. ÎRoundabout,â said Angalo. ÎAnd a picture of a circle? Well. Any ideas?â
Grimma leafed desperately through the Code.
ÎI saw a picture of a roundabout once,â said Gurder. ÎIf itâs any help. It was in We Go to the Fair. Itâs a big shiny thing with lots of gold and horses on it.â
ÎIâm sure thatâs not it,â muttered Grimma, turning the pages hurriedly. ÎIâm sure thereâs something in here some-â
ÎGold, eh?â said Angalo. ÎShould be easy to spot, anyway. I think,â he glared at Grimma, Îthat we can have a little third gear.â
ÎRight you are, Mr Angalo sir,â said the sigÐnaller.
ÎCanât see any golden horses,â said Masklin. ÎYou know, Iâm not entirely certain÷â
ÎAnd there should be cheerful music,â said Gurder, pleased to be making a contribution.
ÎCanât hear any cheer÷â Masklin began. There was the long-drawn-out blast of a car born. The road stopped, and was replaced by a mound covered in bushes. The lorry roared up it, all wheels leaving the ground for a moment, then thumped down on the other side of the roundabout and continued a little way, rocking from side to side, on the opposite road. It rolled to a halt.
There was silence in the cab again. Then someÐone groaned.
Masklin crawled to the edge of the platform and looked down into the frightened face of Gurder, who was hanging on to the edge.
ÎWhat happened?â he groaned.
Masklin hauled him back up to safety and dusted him off.
ÎI think,â he said, Îthat although the signs mean what they say, what they say isnât what they mean.â
Grimma pulled herself out from underneath the Code. Angalo untangled himself from the lengths of string and found himself looking into her furious scowl.
ÎYou,â she said, Îare a total idiot. And speed mad! Why donât you listen?â
ÎYou canât speak to me like that!â said Angalo, cowering back. ÎGurder, tell her she canât call me names like that!â
Gurder sat trembling on the edge of the platÐform.
ÎAs far as I am concerned right now,â he said, Îshe can call you what she likes. Go to it, young woman.â
Angalo glowered. ÎHang on! You were the one who went on about golden horses! I didnât see any golden horses? Did anyone see any golden horses? He confused me, going on about golden horses-â
Gurder waved a finger at him. ÎDonât you ãheä me-â he began.
ÎAnd donât you ãyoung womanä me in that tone of voice!â screamed Grimma.
Dorcasâs voice came up from the depths.
ÎI donât want to interrupt anything,â it said, Îbut if this happens one more time there are people down here who will be getting very angry. Is that understood?â
ÎJust a minor steering problem,â Masklin called down cheerfully. He turned back to the others.
ÎNow you all look here,â he said quietly. ÎThis arguing has got to stop. Every time we hit a problem we start bickering. Itâs not sensible.â
Angalo sniffed. ÎWeweredoingperfectlyallright until he-â
ÎShut up!â
They stared at him. He was shaking with anger.
ÎIâve had just about enough of all of you!â he shouted. ÎYou make me ashamed! We were doing so well! I havenât spent ages trying to make all this happen just for a, a, a steering committee to ruin it all! Now you can all get up and get this thing moving again! Thereâs a whole truckload of nomes back there! Theyâre depending on you! Understand?â
They looked at one another. They stood up sheepishly. Angalo pulled up the steering strings. The signaller untangled his flags.
ÎAhem,â said Angalo quietly. ÎI think .. . yes,
I think a little bit of first gear might be in order here, if itâs all the same to everybody?â
ÎGood idea. Go ahead,â said Gurder.
ÎBut carefully,â said Grimma.
ÎThank you,â said Angalo politely. ÎIs that all right by you Masklin?â he added.
ÎHmm? Yes. Yes. Fine. Go.â
At least there were no more buildings. The lorry purred along the lonely road, its one remainÐing headlight making a white glow in the mist. One or two vehicles passed them on the other side of the road.
Masklin knew that soon they should be lookÐing for somewhere to stop. It would have to be somewhere sheltered, away from humans but not too far away, because he was pretty certain there were still plenty of things the nomes were going to need. Perhaps they were going north, but if they were it would be sheer luck.
It was at that moment tired, angry with his mind not entirely on what was in front of him
that he saw Prices Slashed.ÊÊÊÊÊÊ
There was no doubt about it. The human was standing in the road, waving its torch. There was a car beside him, with a blue flashing light on top.
The others had seen it, too.
ÎPrices Slashed!â moaned Gurder~ ÎHeâs got here in front of us!â
ÎMore speed,â said Angalo grimly.
ÎWhat are you going to do?â said Masklin~
ÎWeâll see how his torch can stand up to a lorry!â muttered Angalo.
ÎYou canât do that! You canât drive lorries into people!â
ÎItâs Prices Slashed!â said Angalo. ÎItâs not people!â
ÎHeâs right,â said Grimma. ÎYou said we mustnât stop now!â
Masklin grabbed the steering strings and gave one a yank. The lorry skewed around just as Prices Slashed dropped his torch and, with respectable speed, jumped into the hedge. There was a bang as the rear of the lorry hit the car, and then Angalo had the threads again and was guiding them back into something like a straight line.
ÎYou didnât have to do that,â he said sullenly. ÎItâs all right to run into Prices Slashed, isnât it, Gurder?â
Well. Er,â said Gurder. He gave Masklin an embarrassed look. ÎIâm not sure it was Prices Slashed, in fact. He had darker clothes, for one thing. And the car with the light on it.â
ÎYes, but he had the peaked hat and the terÐrible torch!â
The lorry bumped off a bank, taking away a large chunk of soil, and lurched back into the road.
ÎAnyway,â said Angalo, in a satisfied voice, Îthatâs all behind now. We left Arnold Bros (est~ 1905) behind in-the Store. We donât need that stuff. Not Outside.â
Noisy though it was in the cab, the words created their own sort of silence.
Well, itâs true,â said Angalo defensively. ÎAnd Dorcas thinks the same thing. And a lot of younger nomes.â
ÎWe shall see,â said Gurder. ÎHowever, I suspect that if Arnold Bros (est. 1905) was ever anyÐ where, then heâs everywhere.â
ÎWhat do you mean by that?â
ÎIâm not sure myself. I need to think about it.â
Angalo sniffed. ÎWell, think about it, then. But I donât believe it. It doesnât matter any more. May Bargains Galore turn against me if Iâm wrong,â he added.
Masklin saw a blue light out of the corner of his eye. There were mirrors over the wheels of the lorry and, although one of them was smashed and the other one was bent, they still worked after a fashion. The light was behind the lorry.
ÎHeâs coming after us, whoever it is,â he said mildly.
ÎAnd thereâs that dee-dah, dee-dah noise,â said Gurder.
ÎI think,â Masklin went on, Îthat it might be a good idea to get off this road.â
Angalo glanced from side to side.
ÎToo many hedges,â he said.
ÎNo, I meant on to another road. Can you do that?â
ÎTen-four. No problem. Hey, heâs trying to overtake! What a nerve! Ha!â The lorry swerved violently.
ÎI wish we could open the windows,â he added. ÎOne of the drivers I watched, if anyone behind him honked, heâd wave his hand out of the window and shout things. I think thatâs what youâre supposed to do.â He waved his arm up and shouted Îyahgerronyerr.â
ÎDonât worry about that. Just find another road, a small road,â said Masklin soothingly. ÎIâll be back in a minute.â
He lowered himself down the swaying ladder to Dorcas and his people. There wasnât too much going on at the moment, just little tugs on the big wheel from the steering groups and a steady pressure on the go-faster pedal. Many of the nomes were sitting down and trying to relax. There was a ragged cheer when Masklin joined them.
Dorcas was sitting by himself, scribbling things on a piece of paper.
ÎOh, itâs you,â he said. ÎEverything working now? Have we run out of things to bump into?â
Weâre being followed by someone who wants to make us stop,â said Masklin.
ÎAnother lorry?â
ÎA car, I think. With humans in it.â
Dorcas scratched his chin.
ÎWhat do you want me to do about it?â
ÎYou used things to cut the lorry wires when you didnât want it to go,â said Masklin.
ÎPliers. What about them?â
ÎHave you still got them?â
ÎOh, yes. But you need two nomes to use them.â
ÎThen I shall need another nome.â Masklin told Dorcas what he had in mind.
The old nome looked at him with something like admiration, and then shook his head.
ÎItâll never work,â he said. We wonât have the time. Nice idea, though.â
ÎBut weâre so much faster than humans! We could do it, and be back at the lorry before they know!â
ÎHmm.â Dorcas grinned nastily. ÎYou going to come?â
ÎYes. I, er, Iâm not sure nomes whoâve never been outside the Store will be able to cope.â
Dorcas stood and yawned. ÎWell, Iâd like to try some of this ãfresh airä stuff,â he said. ÎIâm told itâs very good for you.â
If there had been watchers, peering over the hedge into that mist-wreathed country lane, they would have seen a lorry come thundering along at quite an unsafe speed.
They might have thought: thatâs an unusual vehicle, it seems to have lost quite a few things it should have, like one headlight, a bumper and most of the paint down one side, and picked up a number of things it shouldnât have, like some bits of bush and more dents than a sheet of corrugaÐted iron.
They might have wondered why it had a ÎRoad Works Aheadâ sign hanging from one door-handle.
And they would have certainly wondered why it rolled to a stop.
The police car behind it stopped rather more impressively, in a shower of gravel. Two men almost fell out of it and ran to the lorry, wrenching open the doors.
If the watchers had been able to understand Human, theyâd have heard someone say, All right, chummy, thatâs it for tonight and then say, Whereâs he gone? Thereâs just a load of string in here! And then someone else would say, I bet heâs nipped out and has legged it over the fields.
And while this was going on, and while the policemen poked vaguely in the hedge and shone their torches into the mist, the watchers might have noticed a couple of very small shadows run from under the rear of the lorry and disappear under the car. They moved very fast, like mice. Like mice, their voices were high-pitched, fast and squeaky.
They were carrying a pair of pliers.
A few seconds later they scurried back again. And, almost as soon as theyâd disappeared under the lorry, it started up.
The men shouted and ran back to their car.
But instead of roaring into life, it went whirr, whirr, whirr in the misty night.
After a while one of them got out and lifted the bonnet.
As the lorry vanished into the mist, its single rear light a fading glow, he knelt down, reached under the car, and held up a handful of neatly cut wires...
This is what the watchers would have seen. In fact, the only watchers were a couple of cows, and they didnât understand any of it.
Perhaps it nearly ends there.
A couple of days later the lorry was found in a ditch some way outside the town. What was stranÐger was this: the battery, and every wire, light bulb, and switch had been taken out of it. So had the radio.
The cab was full of bits of string.
xv. &nbs p; And the nomes said, here is a New Place, to be ours for Ever and Ever.
xvi. &nbs p; And the Outsider said Nothing.
From The Book of Nome, Exits Chap. 4, v.XV÷XVI
It had been a quarry. The nomes knew this because the gate had a rusty sign on it: Quarry. Dangerous. Do Not Enter.
They found it after a mad panicking run across the fields. By luck, if you listened to Angalo. Because of Arnold Bros (est. 1905) if you believed Gurder.
It doesnât matter how they settled in, found the few old tumbledown buildings, explored the caves and rock heaps, cleared out the rats. That wasnât too difficult. The harder part was persuading most of the older nomes to go outside; they felt happier with a floor over their heads. Granny Morkie came in useful there. She made them watch her walk up and down outside, braving the terrible Fresh Air.
Besides, the food taken from the Store didnât last for ever. There was hunger, and there were rabbits in the fields above. Vegetables, too. Not nice and clean, of course, as Arnold Bros (est. 1905) had intended they should be, but just sticking in the ground covered with dirt. There were complaints about this. The molehills that appeared in a nearby field were simply the result of the first experimental potato mine.
After a couple of nasty experiences, foxes learned to keep away.
And then there was Dorcasâs discovery of elecÐtricity, still in wires leading to a box in one of the deserted sheds. Getting at it while staying alive seemed to need nearly as much planning as the Great Drive, with a lot of broom-handles and rubber gloves involved.
After a lot of thought, Masklin had pushed the Thing near one of the electric wires. It had flashed a few lights but had kept silent. He felt it was listening. He could hear it listening.
Heâd taken it away again, and tucked it into a gap in one of the walls. He had an obscure feeling that it wasnât time to use the Thing yet. The longer they left it, he thought, the longer theyâd have to work out for themselves what it was they were doing. Heâd like to wake it up later and say, ÎLook, this is what weâve done, all by ourselves.â
Gurder had already worked out that they were probably somewhere in China.
And so the winter became spring, and spring became summer.
But it wasnât finished, Masklin felt.
He sat on the rocks above the quarry, on guard. They always kept a guard on duty, just in case. One of Dorcasâs inventions, a switch which was connected to a wire which would light a bulb down under one of the sheds, was hidden under a stone by his side. Heâd been promised radio, one of these days. One of these days might be quite soon, because Dorcas had pupils now. They seemed to spend a lot of time in one of the tumbledown sheds, surrounded by bits of wire and looking very serious.
Guard duty was quite popular, at least on sunny days.
This was home, now. The nomes were settling in, filling in the corners, planning, spreading out, starting to belong.
Especially Bobo. Heâd disappeared on the first day, and turned up again, scruffy and proud, as the leader of the quarry rats and father of a lot of little ratlings. Perhaps it was because of this that the rats and the nomes seemed to be getting along okay, politely avoiding each other whenever possible and not eating one another.
They belong here more than we do, thought Masklin. This isnât really our place. This belongs to humans. Theyâve just forgotten about it for a while, but one day theyâll remember it. Theyâll come back here and weâll have to move on. Weâll always have to move on. Weâll always try to create our own little worlds inside the big world. We used to
have it all, and now we think weâre lucky to have a little bit.
He looked down at the quarry below him. He could just make out Grimma sitting in the sun with some of the young nomes, teaching them to read.
That was a good thing, anyway. Heâd never be that good at it, but the kids seemed to pick it up easily enough.ÊÊ
But there were still problems. The departmenÐtal families, for example. They had no departÐments to rule, and spent a lot of time squabbling.
There seemed to be arguments going on the whole time, and everyone expected him to sort them out. It seemed the only time nomes acted together was when they had something to occupy their minds Beyond the moon, the Thing had said. You used to live in the stars.
Masklin lay back and listened to the bees.
One day weâll go back. Weâll find a way to get to the big ship in the sky, and weâll go back. But not yet. Itâll take some doing, and the hard part again will be getting people to understand. Every time we climb up a step we settle down and think weâve got to the top of the stairs, and start bickering about things.
Still, even knowing that the stairs are there is a pretty good start.
From here, he could see for miles across the countryside. For instance, he could see the airport.
It had been quite frightening, the day theyâd seen the first jet go over, but a few of the nomes had recalled pictures from books theyâd read and it turned out to be nothing more than a sort of lorry built to drive in the sky.
Masklin hadnât told anyone why he thought that knowing more about the airport would be a good idea. Some of the others suspected, he knew, but there was so much to do that they werenât thinking about it now.
Heâd led up to it carefully. Heâd just said that it was important to find out as much about this new world as possible, just in case. Heâd put it in such a way that no one had said, ÎIn case of what?â and, anyway, there were people to spare and the weather was good.
Heâd led a team of nomes across the fields to it; it had been a weekâs journey, but there were thirty of them and there had been no problems. Theyâd even had to cross a motorway, but theyâd found a tunnel built for badgers, and a badger coming along it the other way turned around and hurried off when they approached. Bad news like armed nomes spreads quickly.
And then theyâd found the wire fence, and climbed up it a little way, and spent hours watchÐing the planes landing and taking off.
Masklin had felt, just as he had done once or twice before, that here was something very important. The jets looked big and terrible, but once heâd thought that about lorries. You just had to know about them. Once you had the name, you had something you could handle, like a sort of lever. One day, they could be useful. One day, the nomes might need them.
To take another step.
Funnily enough, he felt quite optimistic about it. Heâd had one glorious moment of feeling that, although they-argued and bickered and got things wrong and tripped over themselves, nomes would come through in the end. Because Dorcas had been watching the planes, too, clinging to the wire with a calculating look in his eyes. And Masklin bad said:
ÎJust supposing ÷ for the sake of argument, you understand we need to steal one of those, do you think it could be done?â
And Dorcas had rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
ÎShouldnât be too hard to drive,â he said, and grinned. ÎTheyâve only got three wheels.â
THE END