So they'd spent nearly all the night searching the Store for any bottles labelled 'Drink Me'. Either the Store didn't have it and Gurder wasn't prepared to accept that, because the Store had Everything Under One Roof- or it just wasn't real. There seemed to be lots of things in books that weren't real. It was hard to see why Arnold Bros (est. 1905) had put so many unreal things in' books.

'So the faithful can tell the difference,' Gurder had said.

Masklin had taken one book himself. It just fitted his box. It was called A Child's Guide to the Stars and most of it was pictures of the sky at night. He knew that was real.

He liked to look at it when he had too much to think about. He looked at it now.

They had names, like Sirius and Rigel or Wolf 359 or Ross 154.

He tried a few on the Thing.

'I do not know the names,' it said.

'I thought we came from one of them,' said Masklin. 'You said-' 'They are different names. Currently I cannot identify them.' 'What was the name of the star that nomes came from?' said Masklin, lying back in the dark­ness.

'It was called: The Sun.' 'But the sun's here!' 'All stars are called The Sun by the people who live nearby. It is because they believe them to be important.' 'Did they - I mean, did we visit many?' 'I have 94,563 registered as having been visited by nomes.' Masklin stared up at the darkness. Big numbers gave him trouble, but he could see that this num­ber was one of the biggest. Bargains Galore! he thought, and then felt embarrassed and corrected it to Gosh! All those suns, miles apart, and all I have to do is move one lorry! Put like that, it seemed ridiculous.

x. When Lo! One returned, saying, I have Gone upon Wheels, and I have Seen the Outside.

xi. And they said to him, What is the Outside? xii. And he said, It is Big.

From The Book of Nome, Accounts v.X-XII On the fourth day Angalo returned, wild-eyed and grinning like a maniac.

The nome on guard came running into the department, with Angalo swaggering behind him and a gaggle of younger nomes trailing, fasci­nated, in his wake. He was grimy, and ragged, and looked as though he hadn't slept for hours - but he walked proudly, with a strange swaying motion, like a nome who has boldly gone where no nome has gone before and can't wait to be asked about it.

'Where've I been?' he said. 'Where've I been? Where haven't I been, more like. You should see what's out there!' 'What?' they asked.

'Everywhere!' be said, his eyes glowing. 'And you know what?' 'What?' they chorused.

'I've seen the Store from the outside! It's...' he lowered his voice, 'it's beautiful. All columns and big glass windows full of colour!' Now he was the centre of a growing crowd as the news spread.

'Did you see all the departments?' said a Stationeri.

'No!' 'What?' 'You can't see the departments from outside! It's just one big thing! And, and...' in the sudden silence he fumbled in his pouch for his notebook, which was now a lot fatter, and thumbed through the pages, 'it's got a great big sign outside it and I copied it down because it's not Trucker language and I didn't understand it but this is what it was.' He held it up.

The silence got deeper. Quite a few nomes could read by now.

The words said CLOSING DOWN SALE.

Then he went to bed, still babbling excitedly about lorries and hills and cities, whatever they were, and slept for two hours.

Later on, Masklin went to see him.

Angalo was sitting up in bed, his eyes still shining like bright marbles in the paleness of his face.

'Don't you get him tired,' warned Granny Morkie, who always nursed anyone too ifi to prevent it. 'He's very weak and feverish, it's all that rattling around in those great noisy things, it's not natural. I've just had his dad in here, and I had to turf him out after five minutes.' 'You got rid of the Duke?' said Masklin. 'But how? He doesn't listen to anyone!' 'He might be a big nome in the Store,' said Granny in a self-satisfied tone of voice, 'but he's just an awkward nuisance in a sick-room.' 'I need to talk to him,' said Masklin.

'And I want to talk!' said Angalo, sitting up. 'I want to tell everyone! There's everything out there! Some of the things I've seen-' 'You just settle down,' said Granny, gently pushing him back into the pillows. 'And I'm not too happy about rats in here, either.' Bobo's whiskers could just be seen under the end of the blankets.

'But he's very clean and he's my friend,' said Angalo. 'And you said you like rats.' 'Rat. I said rat. Not rats,' said Granny. She prodded Masklin. 'Don't you let him get over­excited,' she commanded.

Masklin sat down by the bed while Angalo talked with wild enthusiasm about the world outside, like someone who had spent his life with a blindfold on and had just been allowed to see. He talked about the big light in the sky, and roads full of lorries, and big things sticking out of the floor which had green things all over them- 'Trees,' said Masklin.

-and great buildings where things went on the lorry or came off it. It was at one of these that Angalo got lost. He'd climbed out when it stopped for a while, to go to the lavatory, and hadn't been able to get back before the driver returned and drove away. So he'd climbed on to another one, and some time after it had driven away it stopped at a big park with other lorries in it. He started looking for another Arnold Bros (est. 1905) lorry.

'It must have been a cafe on a motorway,' said Masklin. 'We used to live near one.' 'Is that what it's called?' said Angalo, hardly listening. 'There was this big blue sign with pictures of cups and knives and forks on it. Any­way-' -there weren't any Store lorries. Or perhaps there were, but there were so many other types he couldn't find one. Eventually he'd camped out on the edge of a lorry park, living on scraps, until by sheer luck one had turned up. He hadn't been able to get into the cab, but he had managed to climb up a tyre and find a dark place where he had to hold on to cables with his hands and knees to stop himself falling off on to the rushing road, far below.

Angalo produced his notebook. It was stained almost black.

'Nearly lost it,' he said. 'Nearly ate it once, I was so hungry.' 'Yes, but the actual driving,' Masklin said insistently, with one eye on the impatient Granny Morkie. 'How do they do the actual driving?' Angalo flicked through the book. 'I made a note somewhere,' he said. 'Ah, here.' He passed it over.

Masklin looked at a complicated sketch of levers and arrows and numbers.

'"Turn the key ... one, two... press the red button ... one, two ... push pedal number one down with the left foot, push big lever left and up one, two... let pedal one up gently, push pedal number two down..." 'He gave up. 'What does it all mean?' he said, dreading the answer. He knew what it was going to be.

'It's how you drive a lorry,' said Angalo.

'Oh. But, er, all these pedals and buttons and levers and things,' said Masklin weakly.

'You need 'em all,' said Angalo, proudly. 'And then you go rushing along, and you change up the gears, and-' 'Yes. Oh. I see,' said Masklin, staring at the piece of paper.

How? he thought.

Angalo had been very thorough. Once; when he'd been alone in the cab, he'd measured the height of what he called the Gear Lever, which seemed very important. It was five times the height of a nome. And the big wheel that moved and seemed to be very important was as wide as eight nomes standing side by side.

And you had to have keys. Masklin hadn't known about the keys. He hadn't known about anything.

'I did well, didn't I?' said Angalo. 'It's all in there.' 'Yes. Yes. You did very well.' 'You have a good look, it's all in there. All about the going-around-corners flasher and the horn,' Angalo went on enthusiastically.