The Bromeliad Trilogy

by Terry Pratchett

  He stared distractedly at their faces.

  "I've thought about it for ages," he said. He felt they were the only two he could trust.

  The cardboard door slid open and a small, cheerful face appeared.

  "You'll like this one, Mr. Masklin," he said, "I've been doing some more reading."

  "Not now, Vinto. We're a bit busy," said Masklin. Vinto's face fell.

  "Oh, you might as well listen to him," said Grimma. "It's not as if we've got anything more important to do now."

  Masklin hung his head.

  "Well, lad," said Gurder, with forced cheerfulness, "what idea have you come with this time, eh? Pulling the truck with wild hamsters, eh?"

  "No, sir," said Vinto.

  "Maybe you think we could make it grow wings and fly away in the sky?"

  "No, sir. I found this book, it's how to capture humans, sir. And then we can get a gnu –"

  Masklin gave the others a sick little smile.

  "I explained to him that we can't use humans," he said. "I told you, Vinto. And I'm really not certain about threatening people with antelopes –"

  With a grunt of effort, the boy swung the book open.

  "It's got a picture in it, sir."

  They looked at the picture. It showed a human lying down. He was surrounded by nomes, and covered with ropes.

  "Gosh," said Grimma, "they've got books with pictures of us!"

  "Oh, I know this one," said Gurder dismissively "It's Gulliver's Travels. It's just stories, it's not real"

  "Pictures of us in a book," said Grimma. "Imagine that. You see it, Masklin?"

  Masklin stared.

  "Yes, you're a good boy, well done," said Gurder, his voice sounding far off. "Thank you very much, Vinto, and now please go away."

  Masklin stared. His mouth dropped open. He felt the ideas fizz up inside him and slosh into his head.

  "The ropes," he said.

  "It's just a picture," said Gurder.

  "The ropes! Grimma, the ropes!"

  "The ropes?"

  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.

  "I can see the way!" he shouted, while the three of them watched in astonishment. "I can see the way! Arnold Bros (est. 1905), I can see the way!"

  After Closing Time that evening several dozen small and stealthy figures crept across the garage floor and disappeared under one of the parked trucks. 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 didn't so much as wobble. Several of the others came over and helped, and managed to get it to move a little.

  One nome stood and watched them thoughtfully. 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 permanently behind one ear when it wasn't being used.

  Masklin walked back to him.

  "What d'you think?" he said.

  Dorcas rubbed his nose. "It's all down to levers and pulleys," he said. "Amazing things, levers. Give me a lever long enough, and a firm enough place to stand, and I could move the Store."

  "Just one of these pedals would be enough for now," said Masklin politely.

  Dorcas nodded. "We'll give it a try," he said. "All right, lads. Bring it up."

  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.

  "Right, lads," said Dorcas again.

  They pushed down. The pedal went all the way to the floor. There was a ragged cheer.

  "How did you do that?" said Masklin.

  "That's levers for you," said Dorcas. "O-kay." He looked around, scratching his chin. "So we'll need three levers." He looked up at the great circle of the steering wheel. "You have any ideas about that?" he said.

  "I thought ropes," said Masklin.

  "How d'you mean?"

  "It's 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 that'll make the truck go the way we want," 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.

  "They won't see where they're going," he said finally.

  "I thought, someone could stand right up there, by the big window in the front, and sort of tell them what to do?" said Masklin, looking hopefully at the old nome.

  "These're powerful noisy things, young Angalo said," said Dorcas. He scratched his chin again. "I reckon I can do something about that. Then there's this big lever here, the Beer Lever –"

  "Gear Lever," said Masklin.

  "Ah. Ropes again?"

  "I thought so," said Masklin earnestly. "What do you think?"

  Dorcas sucked in his breath. "We-ell," he said. "What 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, it's going to take a powerful lot of practicing. Supposing I rig up all the tackle, all the ropes and such: how many nights will we have to practice? You know, get the hang of it?"

  "Including the night we, er, leave?"

  "Yes," said Dorcas.

  "One," said Masklin.

  Dorcas sniffed. He stared upwards for a while, humming under his breath.

  "It's impossible," he said.

  "We'll only have one chance, you see," said Masklin "If it's a problem with all the equipment –"

  "Oh, no problem there," said Dorcas. "That's just bits of wood and string, I can have that ready by tomorrow. I was thinking of the people, see. You're going to need a powerful lot of nomes to do all this. And they're going to need training."

  "But, but all that they'd have to do is pull and push when they're told, won't they?"

  Dorcas hummed under his breath again. Masklin got the impression that he always did that if he was going to break some bad news.

  "Well, laddie," he said, "I'm six, I've seen a lot of people, and I've got to tell you, if you lined up ten nomes and shouted 'Pull!', four of them would push and two of them would say 'Pardon?' That's how people are. It's just nomish nature."

  He grinned at Masklin's crestfallen expression. "What you ought to do," he said, "is find us a little truck. To practice on."

  Masklin nodded gloomily.

  "And," said Dorcas, "have you thought again about how you're going to get everyone on? Two thousand nomes, mind. Plus all this stuff we're taking. You can't have old grannies and little babies shinning up ropes or crawling through holes, can you?"

  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, he'll leave it all to me, just to serve me right. Oh, critical path analysis! Why is it always people?

  "Have you got any ideas?" he said. "I really would appreciate your help."

  Dorcas gave him a long thoughtful look, and then patted him on the shoulder.

  "I've been looking around this place," he said.

  "Maybe there's a way we can practice and solve the other problem. You come down here tomorrow night and we'll see, shall we?"

  Masklin nodded.

  The trouble was, he thought as he walked back, that there weren't 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 exciting and unusual. As far as the rest of them were concerned, though, life was going on as normal.

  In fact the Stor
e 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 didn't 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 didn't 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.

  11

  I. Run to the Lifts, Lifts, won't you carry me? Run to the Walls, Walls, won't you hide me? Run to the Truck, Truck, won't you take me? All on that Day.

  From The Book of Nome, Exits I, v. I

  It started with silence when there should have been noise. All the nomes were used to the distant thumping and murmuring of the humans during the long daylight hours, so they didn't notice it. Now it was gone they could hear the strange, oppressive silence. There were days, of course, when humans didn't come into the Store for instance, Arnold Bros (est. 1905) sometimes allowed them almost a week off between the excitement of Christmas Fayre and the hurly-burly of Winter Sale Starts Today! But the nomes were used to this, it was part of the gentle rhythm of Store life. This wasn't 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 redecoration, 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 didn't seem to be much stock around.

  "It's always like this after a Sale," they said. "And then, before you know where you are, all the shelves are filled up again. Nothing to get upset about at all. It's all part of Arnold Bros (est. 1905)"s great plan."

  And they sat in silence, or hummed a little tune, or found something to occupy their minds, to stop thinking unpleasant thoughts. It didn't 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 in great boxes and taking them down to the garage and loading them on to the trucks...

  And started taking up the floorboards...

  Masklin awoke. People were prodding him. Somewhere in the distance other people were shouting. It was somehow familiar.

  "Get up, quickly!" said Gurder.

  "What's happening?" said Masklin, yawning.

  "Humans are taking the Store to bits!"

  Masklin sat bolt upright. "They can't be! It's not time!" he said.

  "They're doing it just the same!"

  Masklin stood up, struggling into his clothes. He jigged sideways across the floor, one leg out of his trousers, and thumped the Thing.

  "Hey!" he said "You said the demolition wasn't for ages yet!"

  "Fourteen days," said the Thing

  "It's starting now!"

  "This is probably the removal of remaining stock to new premises, and preliminary works," said the Thing.

  "Oh, good. That should make everyone feel a lot better. Why didn't you tell us?"

  "I was not aware you did not know."

  "Well, we didn't. So what do you suggest we. do now?"

  "Leave as soon as possible."

  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 hadn't 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.

  "Er," he said.

  Then he said, "I think everyone ought to get as much food as they can carry and go down to the basement, near to the garage."

  "You mean you still think we should do it?" said Gurder.

  "We haven't much choice, have we?"

  "But we were – you said we should take as much as we could from the Store, all the wire and tools and things. And books," said Gurder.

  "We'll be lucky if we can just take ourselves. There's no time!"

  Another messenger came running up. It was one of Dorcas's group. He whispered something to Masklin, who gave a strange smile.

  "Can it be that Arnold Bros (est. 1905) has abandoned us in our hour of need?" said Gurder.

  "I don't think so. He may be helping us," said Masklin. "Because, well, you'll never guess where the humans are putting all this stuff..."

  12

  I. And the Outsider said, Glory to the Name of Arnold Bros (est. 1905);

  II. For He hath Sent us a Truck, and the Humans are loading it now with all manner of Things needful to nomes. It is a Sign. Everything Must Go. Including us.

  From The Book of Nome, Exits II. 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 trucks. Yellow things, like a cross between a very small truck and a very large armchair, inched around them, stacking boxes.

  Dorcas passed him the telescope.

  "Busy little things, ain't they," he said conversationally. "Been at it all morning, they have. A couple of trucks have already gone out and come back, so they can't be going very far."

  "The letter we saw said something about a new Store," said Masklin. Perhaps they're taking the stuff there."

  "Could be. It's mostly carpets at the moment, and some of the big frozen humans from Fashions."

  Masklin made a face. According to Gurder, the big pink humans that stood in Fashions, and Kiddies Klothes, and Young Living, and never moved at all, were those who had incurred Arnold Bros (est. 1905)"s 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 truck nearby started with a roar and ground slowly out into the blinding daylight.

  "What we need," he said, "is a truck with a lot of stuff from the Ironmongery Department. Wire, you know, and tools and things. Have you seen any food?"

  "Looked like a lot of stuff from the Food Hall on the first truck out," said Dorcas.

  "We'll have to make do, then."

  "What'll I do," said Dorcas slowly, "if they load it all up on a truck and drive it away? They're working powerful fast, for humans."

  "Surely they can't empty the Store in one day?" said Masklin.

  Dorcas shrugged.

  "Who knows?" he said.

  "You'll have to stop the truck from leaving," said Masklin.

  "How? By throwing myself under it?"

  "Any way you can think of," said Masklin.

  Dorcas grinned. "I'll find a way. The lads are getting used to this place."

  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. They're looking at me as if I'm their only hope.

  And I don't 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 wasn't him.

  The news was bad from everywhere. A lot of the Gardening Department had been cleared. Most of the Clothes departments were empty. The counters 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.

  "What's happened?" said Masklin.

  The old nome pointed to the truck immediately below them.

  "That's the one we want," he said. "It's got all sorts in it. Lots of stuff from the Do-It-Yourself Department. There's even some haberdashery things, needles and whatnot. All the stuff you told me to look out for.

  "We've got to stop them driving it out!" said Masklin. Dorcas grinned.

  "The machinery that raises the door won't work," he said. "The fuse has gone."

  "What's a fuse?" said Masklin.

  Dorcas picked up a long, thick red bar lying by his feet. "This is," he said.

  "You took it?"

  "Tricky job, we had to tie a bit of string round it. Made a powerful big spark when we pulled it out."

  "But I expect they can put another one in," said Masklin.

  "Oh, they did," said Dorcas, with a self-satisfied expression. "They're not daft. Didn't 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 it'll take the humans for ever to find it."

  "Hmm. But supposing they lever the door up?"

  "Won't do them any good. It's not as if the truck will go, anyway."

  "Why not?"

  Dorcas pointed downwards. Masklin watched, and after a moment saw a couple of small figures scurry out from under the truck 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.

  "Powerful lot of wire them trucks need," said Dorcas. "This one ain't got so much, now." Funny, isn't it. Take away a tiny spark and the truck won't go. Don't worry, though, I reckon we'll know where to put it all back later"