Diggers (4 page)

So Masklin had decided not to decide anything about Arnold Bros (est. 1905), in the hope that if there
was
an Arnold Bros (est. 1905) and he found out about Masklin, he wouldn't mind much.

The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it.

The faded newspaper from the sky had been carefully spread out on the floor of one of the old sheds.

It was covered with words. Most of them even Masklin could understand, but even Grimma had to admit she couldn't guess at what they were supposed to mean when you read them all in one go. SCHOOL SLAMS SHOCK PROBE, for example, was a bit of a mystery. So was FURY OVER RATES REBEL. So was PLAY SUPER BINGO IN YOUR SOARAWAY BLACKBURY EVENING POST & GAZETTE. But they were mysteries that would have to wait.

What all eyes were staring at was the quite small area of words, about nome sized, under the word PEOPLE.

“That means people,” said Grimma.

“Really?” said Masklin.

“And the lettering underneath it says: ‘Fun-loving, globe-trotting millionaire playboy Richard Arnold will be jetting to the Florida sunshine next week to witness the launch of Arnsat 1, the first communi'”—she hesitated—“‘
ca
tions sat . . . ellite built by Arnco Inter . . .
na
tional Group. This leap into the future comes only a few months after the dest . . . ruction by fire of—'”

The nomes, who'd been silently reading along with her, shivered.

“Arnold Bros, the store here in Blackbury that was the first of the Arnold chain and the basis of the multimillion trad . . . ing group. It was founded in 1905 by Alderman Frank W. Arnold and his brother Arthur. Grand . . . son Richard, 39, who will—” Her voice faded to a whisper.

“Grandson Richard, 39,” repeated Gurder, his face bright with triumph. “What d'you think of
that
, eh?”

“What does globe-trotting mean?” said Masklin.

“Well, globe means ball, and trotting is a sort of slow running,” said Grimma. “So he runs slowly on a ball. Globe-trotting.”

“This is a message from Arnold Bros,” said Gurder ponderously. “It's been sent to us. A message.”

“A message meant, um, for us!” said Nisodemus, who was standing just behind Gurder. He held up his hands. “Yea, all the way from—”

“Yes, yes, Nisodemus,” said Gurder. “Do be quiet, there's a good chap.” He gave Masklin an embarrassed look.

“Doesn't sound very likely, running slowly. I mean, you'd fall off. If it was a ball, is what I'm saying,” said Masklin.

They stared at The Picture again. It was made up of tiny dots. They showed a smiling face. It had teeth and a beard.

“It stands to reason,” said Gurder, more confidently. “Arnold Bros (est. 1905) has sent Grandson Richard, 39, to—to—”

“And these two names who founded the Store,” said Masklin. “I don't understand that. I thought Arnold Bros (est. 1905) created the Store.”

“Then these two people founded it,” said Gurder. “That makes sense. It was a big Store. It'd be easy to find, even if you weren't looking for it.” He looked slightly uneasy. “Losted and founded,” he said, half to himself. “That makes sense. Yes.”

“O-kay,” said Dorcas. “So let's just see where we've got to. The message is, isn't it, that Grandson Richard, 39, is in Florida, wherever that is—”

“Going to
be
in Florida,” said Grimma.

“It's a type of colored juice,” volunteered a nome. “I know, 'cause one day when we went over to the dump, there was this old carton, and it said ‘Florida Orange Juice.' I read it,” he added proudly.

“Going to
be
in this orange-colored juice, so I'm given to understand,” said Dorcas doubtfully, “running slowly on a ball and jetting, whatever that is. And liking it, apparently.”

The nomes fell silent while they thought about this.

“Holy utterances are often difficult to understand,” said Gurder gravely.

“This must be a
powerful
holy one,” said Dorcas.

“I think it's just a coincidence,” said Angalo loftily. “This is just a story about a human being, like in some of the books we read.”

“And how many humans could even stand on a ball, let alone run slowly on it?” demanded Gurder.

“All
right
,” said Angalo, “but what are we going to
do
, then?”

Gurder's mouth opened and shut a few times. “Why, it's obvious,” he said uncertainly.

“Tell us, then,” said Angalo sourly.

“Well, er. It's, er, obvious. We must go to, er, the place where the orange juice is—”

“Yes?” said Angalo.

“And, er, and find Grandson Richard, 39, which should be easy, you see, because we've got this picture—”

“Yes?” said Angalo.

Gurder gave him a haughty look. “Remember the commandment that Arnold Bros (est. 1905) put up in the Store,” he said. “Did it not say,
If You Do Not See What You Require, Please Ask
?”

The nomes nodded. Many of them had seen it. And the other commandments:
Everything Must Go
, and, by the Moving Stairs,
Dogs and Strollers Must be Carried
. They were the words of Arnold Bros (est. 1905). You couldn't really argue with them. . . . But on the other hand, well, that had been the Store, and this was here.

“And?” said Angalo.

Gurder began to sweat. “Well, er, and then we ask him to let us be left alone in the quarry.”

There was an awkward silence.

Then Angalo said, “That sounds like 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 tumbledown 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 took some time 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 of things he'd read and heard were coming together. The important thing was 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 this planet,”
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 now. 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 sort of 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 and go and find this Ship of ours, couldn't we?”

The lights on top of the Thing moved oddly, into patterns Masklin had never 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 might 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's always going to be like this. We're always going to escape, and find somewhere new, and just when we're getting the hang of it all, we'll have to go again. Sooner or later we must find somewhere that we can know really belongs to us. Dorcas is right. Humans get everywhere. Anyway, you were 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 in a hole, Thing! A muddy hole in the ground! How can I ever be well prepared for anything? That's what being alive
is
, Thing! It's being badly 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 round again after you've got the hang of it! Do you understand, Thing! So we'll try it
now
! I
order
you to help! You're a machine and you must do what you're told!”

The lights formed a spiral.

“You're learning fast,”
said the Thing.

III. And in a voice like Thunder, the Great Masklin said unto the Thing, Now is the Time to go back to our Home in the Sky;

IV. Or we will Forever be Running from Place to Place.

V. But None must know what I Intend, or they will say, Ridiculous, Why go to the Sky when we Have Problems Right Here?

VI. Because that is how People are.

From
The Book of Nome,
Quarries Chap. 2, v. III–VI

G
URDER AND
A
NGALO
were having a blazing row when Masklin got back.

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

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