"Hang on," said Masklin. "This can't be right. One of them is holding up a sign saying RICHARD ARNOLD. We're walking toward it! We're talking to it!"

The deep muffled rumble of the human voice rolled above the nomes like thunder.

Hoom-voom-boom ?

Foom-hoom-zoom-boom.

Hoom-zoom-boom-foom?

Boom!

"Can you understand it, Thing?" said Masklin.

"Yes. The one with the sign is here to take our human to a hotel. It's a place where humans sleep and are fed. All the rest of it is just the things humans say to each other to make sure that they 're still alive."

"What do you mean?" said Masklin.

"They say things like 'How are you' and 'Have a nice day' and 'What do you think of this weather, then?' What these sounds mean is: I am alive and so are you."

"Yes, but nomes say the same sorts of things, Thing. It's called getting along with people. You might find it worth a try."

The bag swung sideways and hit something. The nomes clung desperately to the insides. Angalo clung with one hand. He was trying to keep his place in the book.

"I'm getting hungry again," said Gurder. "Isn't there anything to eat in this bag?"

"There's some toothpaste."

"I'll give the toothpaste a miss, thanks."

Now there was a rumbling noise. Angalo looked up. "I know that sound," he said. "Infernal combustion engine. We're in a vehicle."

"Again?" said Gurder.

"We'll get out as soon as we can," said Masklin.

"What kind of truck is it, Thing?" said Gurder.

"It is a helicopter."

"It's certainly noisy," said Gurder, who had never come across the word.

"It is a plane without wings," said Angalo, who had.

Gurder gave this a few moments' careful and terrified thought.

"Thing?" he said, slowly.

"Yes?"

"What keeps it up in the-" Gurder began.

"Science."

"Oh. Well. Science? Good. That's all right, then."

The noise went on for a long time. After a while it became part of the nomes' world, so that when it stopped the silence came as a shock.

They lay in the bottom of the bag, too discouraged even to talk. They felt the bag being carried, put down, picked up, carried again, put down, picked up one more time, and then thrown onto something soft.

And then there was blessed stillness.

Eventually Gurder's voice said: "All right. What flavor toothpaste?"

Masklin found the Thing among the heap of paper clips, dust, and screwed up bits of paper at the bottom of the bag.

"Any idea where we are, Thing?" he said.

"Room 103, Cocoa Beach New Horizons Hotel," said the Thing. "I am monitoring communications."

Gurder pushed past Masklin. "I've got to get out," he said. "I can't stand it in here anymore. Give me a leg up, Angalo. I reckon I can just reach the top of the bag."

There was the long, drawn-out rumble of the zipper. Light flooded in as the bag was opened. The nomes dived for whatever cover was available.

Masklin watched a hand taller than he was reached down, close around the smaller bag with the toothpaste and flannel in it, and pull it out.

The nomes didn't move.

After a while there came the distant sound of rushing water.

The nomes still didn't move.

Boom-boom foom zoom-boom-boom, choom zoom hoooom ...

The human noise rose above the gushing. It echoed even more than normal.

"It ... sounds like it's ... singing?" whispered Angalo.

Hoom ... hoom-boom-boom boom ... zoom-hoom-boom HOOOooooOOOmmm.

Boom.

"What's happening, Thing?" Masklin hissed.

"He has gone into a room to have water showering on himself," said the Thing.

"What does it want to do that for?"

"I assume he wants to keep clean."

"So is it safe to get out of the bag now?"

" 'Safe' is a relative word."

"What? What? Like 'uncle,' you mean?"

"I mean that nothing is totally safe. But I suggest that the human will be wetting himself for some time."

"Yeah. There's a lot of human to clean," said Angalo. "Come on. Let's doit."

The bag was lying on a bed. It was easy enough to climb down the covers onto the floor.

Hoom-hoom booooom boom ...

"What do we do now?" said Angalo.

"After we've eaten, that is," said Gurder firmly.

Masklin trotted across the thick carpet. There was a tall glass door in the nearest wall. It was slightly open, letting in a warm breeze and the sounds of the night.

A human would have heard the click and buzz of crickets and other small mysterious creatures whose role in life is to sit in bushes all night andmake noises that are a lot bigger than they are. But nomes hear soundsslowed down and stretched out and deeper, like a record player on thewrong speed. The dark was full of the thud and growl of the wilderness.

Gurder joined Masklin and squinted anxiously into the blackness.

"Could you go out there and see if there is something to eat?" he said.

"I've a horrible feeling," said Masklin, "that if I go out there now there will be something to eat, and it'll be me."

Behind them the human voice sang on.

Boom-hoom-hoom-Booooooommm womp ...

"What's the human singing about, Thing?" said Masklin.

"It is a little difficult to follow. However, it appears that the singer wishes it to be known that be did something bis way."

"Did what?"

"Insufficient data at this point. But whatever it was, be did it at a)

each step on life's highway and b) not in a shy way."

There was a knock at the door. The singing stopped. So did the gushing of the water. The nomes ran for the shadows.

"Sounds a bit dangerous," Angalo whispered. "Walking along highways, I mean. Each step along life's sidewalk would be safer."

Grandson Richard, 39, came out of the shower room with a towel around his waist. He opened the door. Another human, with all his clothes on, came in with a tray. There was a brief exchange of hoots, and the clothed human put down the tray and went out again. Grandson Richard, 39, disappeared into the shower room again.

Bub-buh hub-hub boom hooooomm ...

"Food!" Gurder whispered. "I can smell it! There's food on that tray!"

"A bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich with coleslaw, " said the Thing.

"And coffee. And orange juice."

"How did you know?" said all three nomes in unison.

"He ordered it when be checked in."

"Coleslaw!" moaned Gurder ecstatically. "Bacon! Coffee!"

"And orange juice," said Angalo. "Hah!"

Masklin stared upward. The tray had been left on the edge of a table.

There was a lamp near it. Masklin had lived in the Store long enough to know that where there was a lamp, there was a wire.

He'd never found a wire he couldn't climb.

Regular meals, that was the problem. He'd never been used to them. When he'd lived Outside, he'd got accustomed to going for days without food and then, when food did turn up, eating until he was greasy to the eyebrows. But the Store nomes expected something to eat several times an hour. The Store nomes ate all the time. They only had to miss half a dozen meals and they started to complain.

"I think I could get up there," he said.

"Yes. Yes," said Gurder.

"But is it all right to eat Grandson Richard's sandwich?" Masklin added.

Gurder opened his eyes. He blinked.

"That's an important theological point," he muttered. "But I'm too hungry to think about it, so let's eat it first, and then if it turns out to be wrong to eat it, I promise to be very sorry."

Boom-boom whop whop, foom boom ...

"The human says that the end. is now near and he is facing a curtain," the Thing translated. "This may be a shower curtain."

Masklin pulled himself up the wire and onto the table, feeling very exposed.

It was obvious that the Floridians had a different idea about sandwiches. Sandwiches had been sold back in the Store's Food Hall. The word meant something thin between two slices of damp bread. Floridian sandwiches, on the other hand, filled up an entire tray and if there was any bread it was lurking deep in a jungle of cress and lettuce.