The Bromeliad 2 - Diggers Page 3

Then Angalo said, "That sounds about the most half-baked-"

  "What does jetting mean?" said Grimma. "Is it anything to do with jet?"

  "A jet is a kind of aircraft," said Angalo, the transport expert.

  "So jetting means to go like an aircraft. Or in an aircraft?" said Grimma. Everyone turned to Masklin, whose fascination with the airport was well known to one and all.

  He wasn't there.

  Masklin pulled the Thing from its niche in the wall and padded back out into the open. The Thing didn't have to be attached to any wires. It was enough to put it near them.

  There was electricity in the old manager's office. He ran across the empty alley between the tumble-down buildings and squeezed his way in through a crack in the sagging door. Then he placed the box in the middle of the floor and waited.

  It always took some while for the Thing to wake up. Its lights flickered at random and it made odd beeping noises. Masklin supposed it was the machine's equivalent of a nome getting up in the morning.

  Eventually it said, "Who is there?"

  "It's me," said Masklin, "Masklin. Look, I need to know what the words 'communications satellite' mean. I've heard you use the word 'satellite' before. You said the Moon is one, didn't you?"

  "Yes. But communications satellites are artificial moons. They are used for communications. Communications means the transferring of information. In this case, by radio and television." "What's television?" said Masklin.

  "A means of sending pictures through the air."

  "Does this happen a lot?"

  "All the time."

  Masklin made a mental note to look out for any pictures in the air.

  "I see," he lied. "So these satellites-where are they, exactly?"

  "In the sky."

  "I don't think I've ever seen one," said Masklin doubtfully. There was an idea forming in his mind. He wasn't quite sure yet. Bits and pieces ofthings he'd read and heard were coming together. The important thingwas to let them take their own time, and not frighten them away.

  "They are in orbit, many miles up. There are a great many above thisplanet, " said the Thing.

  "How do you know that?"

  "I can detect them."

  "Oh."

  Masklin stared at the flickering lights.

  "If they are artificial, does that mean they're not real?" he said.

  "They are machines. They are usually built on the planet and then launched into space."

  The idea was nearly there. It was rising like a bubble.

  "Space is where our ship is, you said."

  "That is correct."

  Masklin felt the idea explode quietly, like a dandelion. "If we knew where one of these things was going to be flown into space," he said, speaking quickly before the words had time to escape, "and we could sortof hang on to the sides or whatever, or maybe drive it like the Truck, and we took you with us, then we could jump off when we got up there andgo and find this ship of ours, couldn't we?"

  The lights on top of the Thing moved oddly, into patterns Masklin hadnever seen before. This went on for quite a while before it spoke again.

  When it did, it sounded almost sad.

  "Do you know how big space is?" it said.

  "No," said Masklin politely. "It's pretty big, is it?"

  "Yes. However, it may be possible for me to detect and summon the ship if I were taken above the atmosphere. But do you know what the words 'oxygen supply' mean?"

  "No."

  " 'Space suit'?"

  "No." "It is very cold in space."

  "Well, couldn't we sort of jump around a bit to keep warm?" said Masklin desperately. "I think you do not appreciate what it is that space contains."

  "What's that, then?"

  "Nothing. It contains nothing. And everything. But there is very little everything and more nothing than you could imagine."

  "It's still worth a try, though, isn't it?"

  "What you are proposing is an extremely unwise endeavor, " said the Thing.

  "Yes, but, you see," said Masklin firmly, "if I don't try, then it'salways going to be like this. We're always going to escape, and findsomewhere new, and just when we're getting the hang of it all, we'll haveto go again. Sooner or later we must find somewhere that we can knowreally belongs to us. Dorcas is right. Humans get everywhere. Anyway, youwere the one who told me that our home was ... up there somewhere."

  "This is not the right time. You are ill-prepared."

  Masklin clenched his fists. "I'll never be well prepared! I was born ina hole, Thing! A muddy hole in the ground! How can I ever be wellprepared for anything? That's what being alive is, Thing! It's beingbadly prepared for everything! Because you only get one chance, Thing!

  You only get one chance and then you die and they don't let you go aroundagain after you've got the hang of it! Do you understand, Thing! So we'lltry it now! I order you to help! You're a machine and you must do whatyou're told!"

  The lights formed a spiral.

  "You 're learning fast," said the Thing.

  Chapter 4

  III. And in a voice like Thunder, the GreatMasklin said unto the Thing, Now is the Time to goback to our Home in the Sky; IV. Or we will Forever be Running from Place toPlace.

  V. But none must know what I intend, or they willsay, Ridiculous, Why go to the Sky when we HaveProblems Right here?

  VI. Because that is how People are.

  -From the Book of Nome, Quarries II, v. III-VI Gurder and Angalo were having a blazing row when Masklin got back.

  He didn't try to interrupt. He just put the Thing down on the floor andsat down next to it, and watched them.

  Funny how people needed to argue. The whole secret was not to listen towhat the other person was saying, Masklin had noticed.

  Gurder and Angalo had really got the hang of that. The trouble was thatneither of them was entirely certain he was right, and the funny thingwas a that people who weren't entirely certain they were right alwaysargued much louder than other people, as if the main person they weretrying to convince was themselves. Gurder was not certain, not entirelycertain, that Arnold Bros. (est. 1905) really existed, and Angalo wasn'tentirely certain that he didn't.

  Eventually Angalo noticed Masklin.

  "You tell him, Masklin," he said. "He wants to go and find GrandsonRichard, 39!"

  "Do you? Where do you think we should look?" Masklin asked Gurder.

  "The airport," said Gurder. "You know that. Jetting. In a jet. That'swhat he'll do."

  "But we know the airport!" said Angalo. "I've been right up to the fence several times! Humans go in and out of it all day! Grandson Richard, 39, looks just like them! He could have gone already. He could be in thejuice by now! You can't believe words that just drop out of the sky!" Heturned to Masklin again. "Masklin's a steady lad," he said, "he'll tellyou. You tell him, Masklin," he said. "You listen to him, Gurder. Hethinks about things, Masklin does. At a time like this-"

  "Let's go to the airport," said Masklin.

  "There," said Angalo, "I told you, Masklin isn't the kind of nome-what?"

  "Let's go to the airport and watch."

  Angalo's mouth opened and shut silently.

  "But ... but ..." he managed.

  "It must be worth a try," said Masklin.

  "But it's all just a coincidence!" said Angalo.

  Masklin shrugged. "Then we'll come back. I'm not suggesting we all go. Just a few of us."

  "But supposing something happens while we're gone?"

  "It'll happen anyway, then. There's thousands of us. Getting people to the old barn won't be difficult, if we need to do it. It's not like the Long Drive." Angalo hesitated.

  "Then I'll go," he said. "Just to prove to you how ... how superstitious you're being." "Good," said Masklin.

  "Provided Gurder comes, of course," Angalo added.

  "What?" said Gurder.

  "Well, you are the Abbot," said Angalo sarcastically. "If we're going to talk to Grandson Richard, 39, then it'd better be you.
I mean, he probably won't want to listen to anyone else."

  "Aha!" shouted Gurder. "You think I won't come! It'd be worth it just to see your face-" "That's settled, then," said Masklin calmly. "And now, I think we'd better see about keeping a special watch on the road. And some teams had better go to the old barn. And it would be a good idea to see what people can carry. Just in case, you know." Grimma was waiting for him outside. She didn't look happy.

  "I know you," she said. "I know the kind of expression you have whenyou're getting people to do things they don't want to do. What are youplanning?"

  They strolled into the shadow of a rusting sheet of corrugated iron.

  Masklin occasionally squinted upward. This morning he'd thought the skywas just a blue thing with clouds. Now it was something that was fullof words and invisible pictures and machines whizzing around. Why was itthat the more you found out, the less you really knew?

  Eventually he said, "I can't tell you. I'm not quite sure myself."

  "It's to do with the Thing, isn't it?"

  "Yes. Look, if I'm away for, er, a little bit longer than-"

  She stuck her hands on her hips. "I'm not stupid, you know," she said.

  "Orange-colored juice, indeed! I've read nearly every book we broughtout of the Store. Florida is a ... a place. Just like the quarry.

  Probably even bigger. And it's a long way away. You have to go across alot of water to get there."

  "I think it might even be further away than we came on the Long Drive," said Masklin quietly. "I know, because one day when we went to look atthe airport I saw water on the other side, by the road. It looked asthough it went on forever."

  "I told you," said Grimma smugly. "It was probably an ocean."

  "There was a sign by it," said Masklin. "Can't remember everything on it.

  I'm not as good at the reading as you. One of the words was ... res-ervoir, I think."

  "There you are, then."

  "But it must be worth a try." Masklin scowled. "There's only one placewhere we can ever be safe, and that's where we belong," he said.

  "Otherwise we'll always have to keep running away."

  "Well, I don't like it," said Grimma.

  "But you said you didn't like running away," said Masklin. "There isn'tan alternative, is there? Let me just try something. If it doesn't work, then we'll come back."

  "But supposing something goes wrong? Supposing you don't come back?

  I'll ..." Grimma hesitated.

  "Yes?" said Masklin hopefully.

  "I'll have a terrible job explaining things to people," she saidfirmly. "It's a silly idea. I don't want to have anything to do with it."

  "Oh." Masklin looked disappointed but defiant. "Well, I'm going to tryanyway. Sorry."

  Chapter 5

  V. And he said, What are these frogs of which you speak?

  VI. And she said, You wouldn't understand.

  VII. And he said, You are right.

  -From the Book of Nome, Strange Frogs I, v. V-VII There was a busy night ...

  It would be a journey of several hours to the barn. Parties went on tomark the path and generally prepare the way, besides watching out forfoxes. Not that they were often seen, these days; a fox might be quitehappy to attack a solitary nome, but thirty well-armed, enthusiastichunters were a different proposition, and it would be a very stupid foxindeed that even showed an interest. The few that did live near the quarry tended to wander off hurriedly in the opposite direction wheneverthey saw a nome. They'd learned that nomes meant trouble.

  It had been a hard lesson for some of them. Not long after the nomesmoved into the quarry a fox was surprised and delighted to come across acouple of unwary berry gatherers, which it ate. It was even moresurprised that night when two hundred grim-faced nomes tracked it to itsden, lit a fire in the entrance, and speared it to death when it ran out, eyes streaming.

  There were a lot of animals that would like to dine off nome, Masklin hadsaid. They'd better learn: it's us or them. And they'd better learn rightnow that it's going to be them. No animal is going to get a taste fornome. Not anymore.

  "Of course it might all be nothing to worry about," said Angalonervously, around dawn. "We might never have to move."

  "Just when we were beginning to get settled down, too," said Dorcas.

  "Still, I reckon that if we keep a proper lookout we can have everyone onthe move in five minutes. And we'll start moving some food stores upthere this morning. No harm in that. Then they'll be there if we needthem."

  Nomes sometimes went as far as the airport. There was a garbage dump onthe way, which was a prime source of bits of cloth and wire, and theflooded gravel pits further on were handy if anyone had the patience tofish. It was a pleasant enough day's journey, largely along badgertracks. There was a main road to be crossed, or rather, to be burrowedunder; for some reason pipes had been carefully put underneath it justwhere the track needed to cross it. Presumably the badgers had done it.

  They certainly used it a lot.

  Masklin found Grimma in her schoolhole under one of the old sheds, supervising a class in writing. She glared at him, told the children toget on with it-and would Nicco Haberdasheri like to share the joke withthe rest of the class? No? Then he could jolly well get on withthings-and came out into the passage.

  "I've just called to say we're off," said Masklin, twiddling his hat inhis hands. "There's a load of nomes going over to the dump, so we'll havecompany the rest of the way. Er."

  "Electricity," said Grimma, vaguely.

  "What?"

  "There's no electricity at the old barn," said Grimma. "You remember whatthat meant? On moonless nights there was nothing to do but stay in theburrow. I don't want to go back to that."

  "Well, maybe we were better nomes for it," mumbled Masklin. "We didn'thave all the things we've got today, but we were-"

  "Cold, frightened, ignorant, and hungry!" snapped Grimma. "You know that.

  You try telling Granny Morkie about the Good Old Days and see what shesays."

  "We had each other," said Masklin.

  Grimma examined her hands.

  "We were just the same age and living in the same hole," she saidvaguely. She looked up. "But it's all different now! There ... well, there are the frogs, for one thing."

  Masklin looked blank. And, for once, Grimma looked unsure.

  "I read about them in a book," she said. "There's this place, you see.

  Called South America. And there are these hills where it's hot and rains all the time, and in the rain forests there are these very tall trees andright in the top branches of the trees there are these, like, great bigflowers called bromeliads and water gets into the flowers and makeslittle pools and there's a type of frog that lays eggs in the pools andtadpoles hatch and grow into new frogs and these little frogs live theirwhole lives in the flowers right at the top of the trees and don't evenknow about the ground and the world is full of things like that and now Iknow about them and I'm never ever going to be able to see them, and thenyou," she gulped for breath, "want me to come and live with you in a holeand wash your socks!"

  Masklin ran this sentence through his head again, in case it made anysense when he listened to it a second time.

  "But I don't wear socks," he pointed out.

  This was apparently not the right thing to say. Grimma prodded him in thestomach.

  "Masklin," she said, "you're a good nome and bright enough in your way, but there aren't any answers up in the sky. You need to have your feet onthe ground, not your head in the air!"

  She swept away and shut the door behind her.

  Masklin felt his ears growing hot.

  "I can do both!" Masklin shouted after her. "At the same time!"

  He thought about it and added, "So can everyone!"

  He stamped off along the tunnel. Bright enough in his way! Gurder wasright, universal education was not a good idea. He'd never understandwomen, he thought. Even if he lived to be ten.

  Gurder had turned over
the leadership of the Stationer! to Nisodemus.

  Masklin felt less than happy about this. It wasn't that Nisodemus wasstupid. Quite the reverse. He was clever in a bubbling, sideways waythat Masklin distrusted; he always seemed to be bottling up excitementabout something, and when he spoke the words always rushed out, withNisodemus putting "urns" in the flow of words so that he could catch hisbreath without anyone having the chance to interrupt him. He made Masklinuneasy. He mentioned this to Gurder.

  "Nisodemus might be a bit overenthusiastic," said Gurder, "but hisheart's in the right place."

  "What about his head?"

  "Listen," said Gurder. "We know each other well enough, don't we? Weunderstand one another, wouldn't you say?"

  "Yes. Why?"

  "Then I'll let you make the decisions that affect all nomes' bodies," said Gurder, his voice just one step away from being threatening, "andyou'll let me make the decisions that affect all nomes' souls. Fairenough?"

  And so they set off.

  The good-byes, the last-minute messages, the organization, and, becausethey were nomes, the hundred little arguments, are not important.

  They set off.

  Life at the quarry began to get back to something like normal. No moretrucks came up to the gate. Dorcas sent a couple of his more agile youngassistant engineers up the wire netting, just in case, to stuff therusty padlock full of mud. He also ordered a team of nomes to twist wirearound and around the gates as well.

  "Not that it'd hold them very long," he said. "Not if they weredetermined."

  The council, or what was left of it now, nodded wisely, although franklynone of them understood or cared much about mechanical things.

  The truck came back the same afternoon. The two nomes watching the truckhurried back into the quarry to report. The driver had fiddled with thepadlock for a while, pulled at the wire, and then driven off.

  "And it said something," said Sacco.

  "Yes, it said something. Sacco heard it," said his partner, NootyKiddies-Klothes. She was a plump young nome who wore trousers and wasgood at engineering and had actually volunteered to be a guard instead ofstaying at home learning how to cook; things were really changing in thequarry.