I don't know enough words, he thought. Some things you can't think, unless you know the right words.

But he didn't get around to it, because a voice behind him said, Powerful strange things, ain't they? And very busy just lately. I wonder what's got into them?' It was an elderly, rather stocky nome. And drably dressed, which was unusual in the Store. Most of his clothing was a huge apron, its pockets bulging mysteriously.

'Have you been spying on us?' said Granny Morkie.

The stranger gave a shrug.

'I usually come here to watch humans,' he said.

'It's a good spot. There isn't usually anyone else here. What department are you?' 'We haven't got one,' said Masklin.

'We're just people,' said Granny.

'Not indigenous, either,' Torrit added quickly. The stranger grinned, and slid off the wooden beam he'd been sitting on.

'Fancy that,' he said. 'You must be these new things I've heard about. Outsiders?' He held out his hand. Masklin looked at it cautiously.

'Yes?' he said politely.

The stranger sighed. 'You're supposed to shake it,' he said.

'I am? Why?' 'It's traditional. My name's Dorcas del Ica­tessen.' The stranger gave Masklin a lopsided grin. 'Do you know yours?' he said.

Masklin ignored this. 'What do you mean, you watch humans?' he said.

'I watch humans. Study them, you know. It's what I do. You can learn a lot about the future by watching humans.' 'A bit like the weather, you mean?' said Masklin. 'Weather! Of course, weather!' The nome grinned hugely, 'You'd know all about the weather. Powerful stuff, weather?' 'You've heard of it?' said Masklin.

'Only the old stories. Hmm.' Dorcas looked him up and down. 'I reckoned Outsiders'd have to be a different shape, though. Life, but not as we know it. You just come along with me. I'll show you what I mean.' Masklin looked slowly around the dusty space between the floors. This was just about it. He'd had just about enough of it. It was too warm and too dry and everyone treated him like a fool and now they thought he was the wrong shape.

'Well-' he began, and under his arm the Thing said, 'We need this person.' 'My word,' said Dorcas. 'What a tiny radio. They get smaller all the time, don't they.' Where Dorcas led them was just a hole. Big, square, deep and dark. A few cables, fatter than a nome, disappeared down into the depths.

'You live down here?' said Grimma.

Dorcas fumbled in the darkness. There was a click. Far above, something went bang and there was a distant roaring sound.

'Hmm? Oh, no,' he said. 'Took me ages to sort out, did this. It's a sort of floor on a rope. It goes up and down, you know. With humans in it. So I thought, I'm not getting any younger, all those stairs were playing gyp with my legs, so I had a look at the way it worked. Perfectly simple. It'd have to be, o' course, otherwise humans wouldn't know how to use it. Stand back, please.' Something huge and black came down the shaft and stopped a few inches above their heads. There were clangs and thumps and the now-familiar sound of clumsy humans walking about.

There was also, slung under the lift's floor, a small wire basket tied on with bits of string.

'If you think,' said Granny Morkie, 'that I'm going to get into a, a wire nest on a string, then you've got another-' 'Is it safe?' said Masklin.

'More or less, more or less,' said Dorcas, stepping across the gap and fumbling with another little bundle of switches. 'Hurry up, please. This way, madam.' 'Er, how much more than less?' said Masklin as Granny, astonished at being called madam, got aboard.

'Well, my bit I'm sure is safe,' said Dorcas. 'The bit above us was put together by humans, though, and you never can tell. Hold tight, please. Going up!' There was a clang above them, and a slight jerk as they began to rise.

'Good isn't it,' said Dorcas. 'Took me ages to bypass all the switches. You'd have thought they'd notice wouldn't you? They press the button to go down, but if I want to go up, we go up. I used to worry that the humans would think it odd that the lifts seemed to go up and down by themselves, but they seem powerful dense. Here we are.' The lift stopped with another jerk, leaving the nome's basket level with another underfloor gap.

'Electrical and Domestic Appliances,' said Dor­cas. 'Just a little place I call my own. No one bothers me here, not even the Abbot. I'm the only one who knows how things work, see.' It was a place of wires. They ran under the floor in every direction, great bundles of the things. A few young nomes were taking something to pieces in the middle of it all.

'Radio,' said Dorcas. 'Amazing thing. Trying to figure out how it talks.' He rummaged among piles of thick paper, pulled out a sheet, and sheepishly passed it to Masklin.

It showed a small pinkish cone, with a little tuft of hair on top.

The nomes had never seen a limpet. If they had, they'd have known that this drawing looked exactly like one. Except for the hair.

'Very nice,' said Masklin, uncertainly. 'What is it?' 'Urn. It was my idea of what an Outsider would look like, you see,' said Dorcas.

'What, with pointy heads?' 'The Rain, you see. In the old legends of the time before the Store. Rain. Water dropping out of the sky all the time. It'd need to run off. And the sloping sides are so the Wind won't keep knocking it over. I only had the old stories to go on, you see.' 'It hasn't even got any eyes!' Dorcas pointed. 'Yes, it has. Tiny ones. Tucked in under the hair so they won't get blinded by the Sun. That's a big bright light in the sky,' Dorcas added helpfully.

'We've seen it,' said Masklin.

'What's he sayin'?' said Torrit.

'He's saying you ought to of looked like that,' said Granny Morkie sarcastically.

'My head ain't that sharp!' 'You're right there, you,' said Granny. 'I think you've got it a bit wrong,' said Masklin slowly. 'It's not like that at all. Hasn't anyone been to look?' 'I saw the big door open once,' said Dorcas. 'The one down in the garage,! mean. But there was just a blinding white light outside.' 'I expect it would seem like it, if you spend all your time in this gloom,' said Masklin.

Dorcas pulled up an empty cotton reel. 'You must tell me about it,' he said. 'Everything you can remember about the Outside.' In Torrit's lap, the Thing began to flash another green light.

One of the young nomes brought some food after a while. And they talked, and argued, and often contradicted one another, while Dorcas listened, and asked questions.

He was, he told them, an inventor. Especially of things to do with electricity. Back in the early days, when the nomes first began to tap into the Store's wiring, a good many had been killed. They'd found safer ways to do it now, but it was still a bit of a mystery and there weren't many who were keen to get close to it. That's why the leaders of the big families, and even the Abbot of the Stationeri himself, left him alone. It was always a good idea, he said, to be good at something other F people couldn't or didn't, want to do. So they put up with him sometimes wondering, out loud, about the Outside. Provided he wasn't too loud.

'I shan't remember it all,' he sighed. 'What was the other light, the one that you get at Closing Time? Sorry, I mean bite.' 'Night,' corrected Masklin. 'It's called the moon.' 'Moon,' said Dorcas, roffing the word around his mouth. 'But it's not as bright as the sun? Strange, really. It'd be more sensible to have the brightest light at night, not during the day, when you can see anyway. I suppose you've no idea why, have you?' 'It just happens,' said Masklin.

'I'd give anything to see for myself. I used to go and watch the lorries when! was a lad, but! never had the courage to get on one.' He leaned closer.

'I reckon,' he said, 'that Arnold Bros (est. 1905) put us in the Store to find out things. To learn about it. Otherwise, why have we got brains? What do you think?' Masklin was rather flattered at being asked, but he was interrupted as soon as he opened his mouth. 'People keep talking about Arnold Bros (est. 1905),' said Grimma. 'No one actually says who he is, though.' Dorcas leaned back. 'Oh, he created the Store. In 1905, you know. The Bargain Basement, Con­sumer Accounts, and everything between. I can't deny it. I mean, someone must have done it. But I keep telling people, that doesn't mean we shouldn't think about-' The green light on the Thing went off. Its little spinning cup vanished. It made a faint whirring sound, such as a machine would make to clear its throat.