The Bromeliad Trilogy

by Terry Pratchett

"Ground?" said Gurder.

  "Sort of floor," explained Granny.

  "Then what happened?" said Gurder.

  Granny looked blank. "What?" she said.

  "Where did they go after that?" said the Stationeri patiently.

  "Go? I don't reckon they went anywhere. Dead people don't get about much."

  "In the Store," said Gurder slowly, as if he was explaining things to a rather backward child, "when a nome dies, if he has been a good nome, Arnold Bros (est. 1905) sends them back to see us before they go to a Better Place."

  "How can –" Granny began.

  "The inner bit of them, I mean," said Gurder. "The bit inside you that's really you."

  They looked at him politely, waiting for him to make any sort of sense.

  Gurder sighed. "All right," he said, "I'll get someone to show you."

  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 mountainous 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 he'd ever seen before.

  "Is the Outside like this?" said the young priest who was guiding them. "They say, they say, er, they say you've been there. They say you've seen it." He sounded hopeful.

  "There was more green and brown," said Masklin flatly.

  "And flowers?" said the priest.

  "Some flowers," Masklin agreed. "But not like these."

  "I seed flowers like these once," 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. Pink-cheeked painted gnomes. Some of them held fishing rods or spades. Some of them were pushing painted wheelbarrows. And every single one of them was grinning.

  The tribe stood in silence for some time.

  Then Grimma said, very softly, "How horrible."

  "Oh, no!" said the priest, horrified. "It's marvelous! Arnold Bros (est. 1905) sends you back smart and new, and then you leave the Store and go to a wonderful place!"

  "There's no women," said Granny. "That's a mercy, anyway."

  "Ah, well," said the priest, looking a bit embarrassed. "That's always been a bit of a debatable question, we're not sure why but we think –"

  "And they don't look like anyone," said Granny. They all look the same."

  "Well, you see –"

  "Catch me coming back like that," said Granny. "If you come back like that, I don't want to go."

  The priest was almost in tears.

  "No, but –"

  "I saw one like these once." It was old Torrit again. He looked very grey in the face and was trembling.

  "You shut up, you," said Granny. "You never saw nothing."

  "I did too," said Torrit. "When 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."

  "It never was," said Granny, automatically.

  "It was an' all," said Torrit, levelly. "And I mind Grandpa sayin', 'That ain't no life, out there in all weathers, birds doing their wossname on your hat and dogs widdlin' all over you.' 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, 'Wot a way to go, that ain't for me, lads, I want to go sudden like,' and then a cat jumped out on him. Talk about laugh."

  What happened?" said Masklin.

  "Oh, we gave it a good seeing-to with our spears and picked him up and we all run like but run very fast," said Torrit, watching Granny's stern expression.

  "No, no!" wailed the priest. "It's not like that at all!" and then he started to sob.

  Granny hesitated for a moment, and then patted him gently on the back.

  "There, there," she said. "Don't you worry about it. Daft old fool says any old thing that comes into his head."

  "I don't –" Torrit began. Granny's 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. "I did see it, I'm telling you," he whispered. "Damn 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."

  It seemed taken for granted by everyone that Gurder was going to be the new Abbot. The old Abbot had left strict instructions. There didn't seem to be any argument.

  The only one against the idea, in fact, was Gurder.

  "Why me?" he said. "I never wanted to lead anyone! Anyway... you know..." He lowered his voice. "I have Doubts, sometimes. The old Abbot knew it, I'm sure, I can't imagine why he'd think I'd be any good."

  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. Perhaps 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 departments 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 wouldn't 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 didn't take sides.

  He turned to Gurder.

  "We need to talk to someone in the Ironmongri. They control the electric, don't they? And the truck nest."

  "That's the Count de Ironmongri over there," said Gurder, pointing. "Thin fellow with the moustache. Not very religious. Doesn't know much about electric, though."

  "I thought you told me –"

  "Oh, the Ironmongri do. The underlings and servants and whatnot. But not people like the Count. Good heavens," Gurder smiled. "You don't 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?"

  He looked sideways at Masklin.

  "You've got a plan, haven't you?" he said.

  "Yes. Sort of."

  "What are you going to tell them, then?"

  Masklin picked absently at the tip of his spear. "The truth. I'm going to tell them they can leave the Store and take it all with them. I think it should be possible."

  Gurder rubbed his chin. "Hmm," he said. "I suppose it's possible. If everyone carries as much food and stuff as they can. But it'll soon run out and, anyway, you can't carry electric. It lives in wires, you know."

  "How many Stationeri can read Human?" said Masklin, ignoring him.

  "All of us can read a bit, of course," said Gurder. "But only four of us are any real good at it, if you must know."

  "I don't think that's going to be enough," said Masklin.

  Well, there's a trick to it, and not everyone can get the hang of it. What are you planning?"

  "A way to get everyone, everyone, out. Carrying everything we'll ever need, ever," said Masklin.

  "They'll be squashed under the weight!"

  "Not really. Most of what they'll be carrying doesn't weig
h anything at all."

  Gurder looked worried.

  "This isn't some mad scheme of Dorcas's, is it?" he said.

  "No."

  Masklin felt that he might explode. His head wasn't 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 didn't understand. The galaxy! The old man thought it was just a great big room outside the Store, just the biggest department ever. Perhaps Gurder wouldn't comprehend, either, He'd 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 couldn't 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 wouldn't be able to get to grips with the fact that the stars, fr'instance, were much further away. Even if you ran all the way, it'd probably take weeks to reach them.

  He'd have to lead up to it gently.

  The stars! And a long, long time ago nomes had traveled between them on things that made trucks 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 hadn't understood that bit, except that the thing that moved the ships was very, very powerful. Hundreds of nomes had survived, though. One of them, searching through the wreckage, had found the Thing. It wasn't 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 wasn't the most important bit, it wasn't 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 they'd wait for ever. They didn't know what Time was, except something to be counted and filed away. They'd 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 wasn't 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 Thing's plan, but he'd turned it over and over in his mind so much he felt it belonged to him. It was probably an impossible plan. But he'd never know, unless he tried it.

  Gurder was still watching him cautiously.

  "Er," Masklin said. "This plan..."

  "Yes?" said Gurder.

  "The Abbot told me that the Stationeri have always tried to make nomes work together and stop squabbling," said Masklin.

  "That has always been our desire, yes."

  "This plan will mean they'll have to work together."

  "Good."

  "Only I don't think you're going to like it much," said Masklin.

  "That's unfair! How can you make assumptions like that?"

  "I think you'll laugh at it," said Masklin.

  "The only way to find out is to tell me," said Gurder.

  Masklin told him. When Gurder was over the shock, he laughed and laughed.

  And then he looked at Masklin's face, and stopped.

  "You're not serious?" he said.

  "Let me put it like this," said Masklin. "Have you got a better plan? Will you support me?"

  "But how will you – how can nomes is it even possible that we can?" Gurder began.

  We'll find a way," said Masklin. "With Arnold Bros (est. 1905)"s help, of course," he added diplomatically.

  "Oh. Of course," said Gurder weakly. He pulled himself together. "Anyway, if I'm to be the new Abbot I have to make a speech," he said. "It's expected. General messages of goodwill and so on. We can talk about this later. Reflect upon it at leisure in the sober surroundings of –"

  Masklin shook his head. Gurder swallowed.

  "You mean now? he said.

  "Yes. Now. We tell them now."

  8

  I. And the leaders of the nomes were Assembled, and the Abbot Gurder said unto them, Harken to the Words of the Outsider;

  II. And some waxed wroth, saying, He is an Outsider, wherefore then shall we harken to him?

  III. The Abbot Gurder said, Because the old Abbot wished it so. Yea, and because I wish it so, also.

  IV. Whereupon they grumbled, but were silent.

  V. The Outsider said, Concerning the Rumours of Demolition, I have a Plan.

  VI. Let us not go like Woodlice fleeing from an overturned log, but like Brave Free People, at a time of our choosing.

  VII. And they interrupted him, saying, What's Woodlice? Whereupon the Outsider said, All right, Rats.

  VIII. 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. And they said, All? And he said, All. And they said unto him, We cannot do this thing...

  From The Book of Nome, Third Floor v. I–IX

  "Yes, we can," said Masklin. "If we steal a truck." There was a dead silence.

  The Count de Ironmongri raised an eyebrow.

  "The big smelly things with wheels at each corner?" he said.

  "Yes," said Masklin. All eyes were on him. He felt himself beginning to blush.

  The nome's a fool!" snapped the Duke de Haberdasheri. "Even if the Store was in danger, and I see no reason, no reason I say, to believe it, the idea is quite preposterous."

  "You see," said Masklin, beginning to blush, "there's plenty of room, we can take everyone, we can steal books that tell us how to do things –"

  "The mouth moves, the tongue waggles, but no sense comes out," said the Duke. There was nervous 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.

  "No offence to the late Abbot," said one of the lesser lords hesitantly, "but I've heard there are other Stores Out There. I mean to say, we must have lived somewhere before the Store." He swallowed. "What I'm getting at, if the Store was built in 1905, where did we live in 1904? No offence meant."

  "I'm not talking about going to another Store," said Masklin. "I'm talking about living free."

  "And I'm 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," 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. "Ah," he said. "Room to breathe. Carry on, young man."

  "Well, that's about it," Masklin admitted. "I can't plan anything more until I've found out more things. For example, can you make electric? Not steal it from the Store, but make it?"

  The Count stroked his chin.

  "You are asking me to give you departmental secrets?" he said.

  "My lord," said Gurder sharply, "if we take this desperate step it is vital that we are open with one another and share our knowledge."

  "That's true," said Masklin.

  "Quite," said Gurder sternly. "We must all act for the good of all nomes."

  "Well said," said Masklin. "And that's why the Stationeri, for their part, will teach all nomes who request it to read."

  There was a pause. It was broken by the faint wheezing noise of Gurder trying not to choke.

  "To read!" he began.

  Masklin hesitated. Well, he'd gone this far. Might as well get it over with. He saw Grimma staring at him.

  "Women too," he said.

  This time it was the Count who looked surprised. The Baroness, on the other hand, was smiling. Gurder was still making little mewling noises.

  "There's all kind of books on the shelves in the Stationery Department," Masklin plunged on. "Anything we want to do, there's a book that tells us how! But we're going to need lots of people to read them, so we can find out what we need."

  "I think our Stationeri friend would like a drink of water," observed the Count. "I think he may be overcome by the new spirit of sharing and co-operation."

  "Young man," said the Baroness, "what you say might be true, but do these precious books tell us how one may control one of these truck things?"

  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.

  "See, it's got words on it," he said proudly. "I've learned them already. They say..." he pointed each one out with his spear as he said them, "... The... High... Way... Code. High Way Code. It's got pictures inside. When you learn The High Way Code you can drive. It says so. High Way Code," he added, uncertainly.

  "And I've been working out what some of the words mean," said Grimma.