Satellites: They are in space and stay there bygoing so fast that they never stay in one placelong enough to fall down. Televisions are bouncedoff them. - From A Scientific Encyclopedia or theEnquiring Young Nome by Angalo de Haberdasheri.

It wasn't the Thing that woke Masklin up. It was Gurder.

Masklin lay with his eyes half closed, listening. Gurder was talking tothe Thing in a low voice.

"I believed in the Store," he said, "and then I found out it was just a-asort of thing built by humans. And I thought Grandson Richard, 39, wassome special person and he turned out to be a human who sings when hewets himself-"

"Takes a shower!"

"And now there's thousands of nomes in the world! Thousands! Believingall sorts of things!

That stupid Topknot person believes that the going-up shuttles make thesky. Do you know what I thought when I heard that? I thought, if he'dbeen the one arriving in my world instead of the other way around, he'dhave thought I was just as stupid! I am just as stupid! ... Thing?"

"I was maintaining a tactful silence."

"Angalo believes in silly machinery and Masklin believes in, oh, Idon't know. Space. Or not believing in things. And it all works for them.

I try to believe in important things, and they don't last for fiveminutes. Where's the fairness in that?"

"Only another tactful and understanding silence suffices at thispoint."

"I just wanted to make some sense out of life."

"This is a commendable aim."

"I mean, what is the truth of everything?"

There was a pause. Then the Thing said: "I recall your conversationwith Masklin about the origin of names. You wanted to ask me. I cananswer now. I was made, I know this is true. I know that I am a thingmade of metal and plastic, but also that I am something which livesinside that metal and plastic. It is impossible for me not to beabsolutely certain of it. This is a great comfort. As to names, I havedata that says nomes originated on another world and came here thousandsof years ago. This may be true. It may not be true. I am not in aposition to judge."

"I knew where I was, back in the Store," said Gurder, half to himself.

"And even in the quarry it wasn't too bad. I had a proper job. I wasimportant to people. How can I go back now, knowing that everything Ibelieved about the Store and Arnold Bros. (est. 1905) and GrandsonRichard, 39, is just ... is just an opinion."

"I cannot advise. I am sorry."

Masklin decided it was a diplomatic time to wake up. He made a gruntingnoise just to be sure that Gurder heard him.

The Abbot was very red in the face.

"I couldn't sleep," he said shortly.

Masklin stood up.

"How long, Thing?"

"Twenty-seven minutes."

"Why didn't you wake me up!"

"I wished you to be refreshed."

"But it's still a long way off. We'll never get you onto it in time. Wake up, you." Masklin prodded Angalo with his foot. "Come on, we'll have to run. Where's Pion? Oh, there you are. Come on, Gurder."

They jogged on through the scrub. In the distance, there was the low mournful howl of sirens.

"You're cutting it really fine, Masklin," said Angalo.

"Faster! Run faster!"

Now that they were closer, Masklin could see the shuttle. It was quite high up. There didn't seem to be anything useful at ground level.

"I hope you've got a good plan, Thing," he panted, as the four of them dodged between the bushes, "because I'll never be able to get you all the way up there."

"Do not worry. We are nearly close enough."

"What do you mean? It's still a long way off!"

"It is close enough for me to get on."

"What is it going to do? Take a flying leap?" said Angalo.

"Put me down."

Masklin obediently put the black box on the ground. It extended a few of its probes, which swung around slowly for a while and then pointed toward the going-up jet.

"What are you playing at?" said Masklin. "This is wasting time."

Gurder laughed, although not in a very happy way.

"I know what it's doing," he said. "It's sending itself onto the shuttle. Right, Thing?"

"I am transmitting an instruction subset to the computer on the communications satellite," said the Thing.

The nomes said nothing,

"Or to put it another way ... yes, I am turning the satellite computer into a part of me. Although not a very intelligent one."

"Can you really do that?" said Angalo.

"Certainly."

"Wow. And you won't miss the bit you're sending?"

"No. Because it will not leave me."

"You're sending it and keeping it at the same time?"

"Yes."

Angalo looked at Masklin.

"Did you understand any of that?" he demanded.

"I did," said Gurder. "The Thing's saying it's not just a machine, it's a sort of-a sort of collection of electric thoughts that lives in a machine. I think."

Lights flickered around on top of the Thing.

"Does it take a long time to do?" said Masklin.

"Yes. Please do not take up vital communication power at this point."

"I think he means he doesn't want us to talk to him," said Gurder. "He's concentrating."

"It," said Angalo. "It's an it. And it made us run all the way here just so we can hurry up and wait."

"It probably has to be close up to do ... whatever it is it's doing," said Masklin.

"How long's it going to take?" said Angalo. "It seems ages since it was twenty-seven minutes ago."

"Twenty-seven minutes at least," said Gurder.

"Yeah. Maybe more."

Pion pulled at Masklin's arm, pointed to the looming white shape with his other hand, and rattled off a long sentence in Floridian, or if the Thing was right, nearly original nomish.

"I can't understand you without the Thing," said Masklin. "Sorry."

"No speaka da goose-oh," said Angalo.

A look of panic spread across the boy's face. He shouted this time, and tugged harder.

"I think he doesn't want to be near the going-up jets when they start up," said Angalo. "He's probably afraid of the noise. Don't ... like

... the ... noise, right?" he said.

Pion nodded furiously.

"They didn't sound too bad at the airport," said Angalo. "More of a rumble. I expect they might frighten unsophisticated people."

"I don't think Shrub's people are particularly unsophisticated," said Masklin thoughtfully. He looked up at the white tower. It had seemed along way away, but in some ways it might be quite close.

Really very close.

"How safe do you think it is here?" he said. "When it goes up, I mean."

"Oh, come on," said Angalo. "The Thing wouldn't have let us come righthere if it wasn't safe for nomes."

"Sure, sure," said Masklin. "Right. You're right. Silly to dwell on it, really."

Pion turned and ran.

The other three looked back at the shuttle. Lights moved in complicatedpatterns on the top of the Thing.

Somewhere another siren sounded. There was a sensation of power, asthough the biggest spring in the world was being wound up.

When Masklin spoke, the other two seemed to hear him speak their ownthoughts.

"Exactly how good," he said, very slowly, "do you think the Thing is atjudging how close nomes can stand to a going-up jet when it goes up? Imean, how much experience has it got, do you think?"

They looked at one another.

"Maybe we should back off a little bit?" Gurder suggested.

They turned and walked away.

Then each one of them couldn't help noticing that the others seemed to bewalking faster and faster.

Faster and faster.

Then, as one nome, they gave up and ran for it, fighting their waythrough the scrub and grass, skidding on stones, elbows going up and downlike pistons. Gurder, who was normally out of breath at anything abovewalking pace, bounded along like a balloon.