'I've often wondered where the lorries go, and where the humans come from,' he said. 'The Abbot gets very angry when you mention it, though. The other thing is, there's been a new season. That means something. Some of us have been watching humans, and when there's a new season something unusual is happening.' 'How can you have seasons when you don't know about weather?' said Masklin.
Weather has got nothing to do with seasons. Look, someone can take the old people down to the Food Hall, and I'll show you two. It's all very odd. But-' and now Gurder's face was a picture of misery '-Arnold Bros (est. 1905) wouldn't destroy the Store, would he?'
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iii. And Arnold Bros (est. 1905) said, Let there be Signs, so that All within shall know the Proper Running of the Store.
iv. On the Moving Stairs, let the Sign Be: Dogs and Pushchairs Must be Carried; v. And Arnold Bros (est. 1905) waxed wroth, for many carried neither dog nor pushchair; vi. On the Lifts, let the Sign Be: This Lift to Carry Ten Persons; vii. And Arnold Bros (est. 1905) waxed wroth, for oftimes the Lifts carried only two or three; viii. And Arnold Bros (est. 1905) said, Truly Humans are Stupid, who do not understand plain language.
From The Book of Nome, Regulations v.III-VIII It was a long walk through the busy underfloor world.
They found that Stationeri could go where they liked. The other departments didn't fear them, because the Stationeri weren't a true department. There were no women and children, for one thing.
'So people have to join?' said Masklin.
We are selected,' Gurder corrected. 'Several intelligent boys from each department every year. But when you're a Stationeri, you have to forget about your department and serve the whole Store.' Why can't women be Stationeri, then?' said Grimma.
'It's a well-known fact that women can't read,' said Gurder. 'It's not their fault, of course. Apparently their brains get too hot. With the strain, you know. It's just one of those things.' 'Fancy,' said Grimma. Masklin glanced sideways at her. He'd heard her use that sweet, innocent tone of voice before. It meant that, pretty soon, there was going to be trouble.
Trouble or not, it was amazing the effect that Gurder had on people. They would stand aside and bow slightly as he went past, and one or two of them held small children up and pointed him out. Even the guards at the border-crossings touched their helmets respectfully.
All around them was the bustle of the Store moving through time. Thousands of nomes, Masklin thought. I didn't even think there were any numbers that big. A world made up of people.
He remembered hunting alone, running along the deep furrows in the big field behind the motorway. There was nothing around but earth and flints, stretching into the distance. The whole sky was an upturned bowl with him at the centre.
Here, he felt that if he turned round suddenly he would knock someone over. He wondered what it would be like, living here and never knowing anywhere else. Never being cold, never being wet, never being afraid.
You might start thinking it was never possible to be anything else... He was vaguely aware that they'd gone up a slope and out through another gap into the big emptiness of the Store itself. It was night -Closing Time - but there were bright lights in the sky, except that he'd have to start learning to call it the ceiling.
'This is the Haberdashery Department,' said Gurder. 'Now, do you see the sign hanging up there?' Masklin peered into the misty distance and nodded. He could see it. It had huge red letter shapes ona white banner.
'It 'should say Christmas Fayre,' said the Stationeri. 'That's the right season, it comes after Summer Bonanza and before Spring Into Spring Fashions. But instead it says-' Gurder narrowed his eyes, and his lips moved soundlessly for a moment '-Final Reductions. We've been wondering what that means.' 'This is just a thought,' said Grimma, sarcastically, 'it's only a small idea, you understand. I expect big ideas would make my head explode. But doesn't it mean, well, everything is finally being reduced?' 'Oh, it can't mean anything as simple as that. You have to interpret these signs,' said Gurder. 'Once they had one saying Fire Sale, and we didn't see them sell any fire.' What do all the other things say?' said Masklin. Everything being Finally Reduced was too horrible to think about.
Well, that one over there says Everything Must Go,' said Gurder. 'But that turns up every year. It's Arnold Bros (est. 1905)'s way of telling us that we must lead good lives because we all die eventually. And those two over there, they're always there too.' He looked solemn. 'No one really believes them any more. There were wars over them, years ago. Silly superstition, really. I mean, I don't think there is a monster called Prices Slashed who walks around the Store at night, seeking out bad people. It's just something to frighten naughty children with.' Gurder bit his lip. 'There's another odd thing,' he said. 'See those things against the wall? They're called shelves. Sometimes humans take things off them, sometimes they put things on them. But just lately ... well, they just take things away.' Some of the shelves were empty.
Masklin wasn't too familiar with the subtleties of human behaviour. Humans were humans, in the same way that cows were just cows. Obviously there was some way that other cows or humans told them apart, but he'd never been able to spot it. If there was any sense in anything they did, he'd never been able to work it out.
"Everything Must Go",' he said.
'Yes, but not go,' said Gurder. 'Not actually go. You don't really think it means actually go, do you? I'm sure Arnold Bros (est. 1905) wouldn't allow it. Would he?' 'Couldn't rightly say,' said Masklin. 'Never heard of him till we came here.' 'Oh, yes,' said Gurder, in a meek voice. 'From Outside, you said. It sounded very interesting. And nice.' Grimma took Masklin's hand and squeezed it gently.
'It's nice here, too,' she said. He looked surprised.
Well, it is,' she said defiantly. 'You know the others think so, too. It's warm and there's amazing food, even if they have funny ideas about women's brains.' She turned back to Gurder. Why can't you ask Arnold Bros (eat. 1905) what is going on?' 'Oh, I don't think we should do that!' said Gurder hurriedly.
'Why not? Make's sense, if he's in charge,' said Masklin. 'Have you ever even seen Arnold Bros (eat. 1905)?' 'The Abbot did, once. When he was young he climbed all the way up to Consumer Accounts. He doesn't talk about it, though.' Masklin thought hard about this as they walked back. There had never been any religion or politics back home. The world was just too big to worry about things like that. But he had serious doubts about Arnold Bros (est. 1905). After all, if he had built the Store for nomes, why hadn't he made it nome-sized? But, he thought, it was probably not the time to ask r questions like that.
If you thought hard enough, he'd always considered, you could work out everything. The wind, for example. It had always puzzled him until the day he'd realized that it was caused by all the trees waving about.
They found the rest of the group near the Abbot's quarters. Food had been brought up for them. Granny Morkie was explaining to a couple of baffled Stationeri that the pineapples weren't a patch on the ones she used to catch at home.
Torrit looked up from a hunk of bread.
'Everyone's been looking for you two,' he said. 'The Abbot fellow wants you. This bread's soft. You don't have to spit on it like the bread we had at ho-' 'Never you mind going on about that!' snapped Granny, suddenly full of loyalty for the old hole.
'Well, it's true,' muttered Torrit. We never had stuff like this. I mean, all these sausages and meat in big lumps, not stuff you have to kill, no ferreting around in dirty bins...' He saw the others glaring at him, and lapsed into shame-faced muttering.