"When I say pull, I want you to pull."
The nomes took the strain.
"Pull!"
The creases in the tarp flattened out and disappeared.
"Pull!"
It began to move. Then, as it slid over the Cat's angular shape, its own weight started to tug at it.
"Run!"
It came down like an oily green avalanche, piling up into a mountain of folds, but no one bothered about it because the sun shone through thedusty, cobwebbed windows and made the Cat glow.
Several nomes screamed. Mothers picked up their children. There was amovement toward the doors.
The light twinkled on the tips of the teeth.
It does look like a head, Grimma thought. On a long neck. And he's gotanother one at the other end. What am I saying? It has got another one atthe other end.
"I said it's all right!" she shouted over the rising din. "Look! It's noteven moving!"
"Hey!" shouted another voice. She looked up. Nooty and Sacco had climbedout along the Cat's neck, and were sitting there, waving cheerfully.
That did it. The tide of nomes reached the wall and stopped. You alwaysfeel foolish, running away from something that isn't chasing you. Theyhesitated and then slowly inched their way back.
"Well, well," said Granny Morkie, hobbling forward. "So that's whatthey look like. I always wondered."
Grimma stared at her.
"What what look like?" she said.
"Oh, the big diggers," said Granny. "They'd all gone when I was born, butour dad saw 'em. Great big yellow things with teeth that et dirt, hesaid. I always thought he was having me on."
The Cat was still not eating people. Some of the more adventurous nomesstarted to climb on it.
"It was when the big highway was built," Granny went on, leaning on herstick. "They were all over the place, Dad said. Big yellow things withteeth and knobby tires."
Grimma stared at her with the kind of expression reserved for peoplewho turn out, against all expectation, to have interesting and secrethistories.
"And there was others too," the old woman went on. "Things that shoveddirt in piles and everything. This would have been, oh, fifteen yearsago now. Never thought I'd see one."
"You mean the highways were made?" said Grimma. The Cat was covered withyoung nomes now. She could see Dorcas in the back of the cab, explainingwhat various levers did.
"That's what he said," said Granny. "You didn't think they was natch'ral, did you?"
"Oh. No. No. Of course not," said Grimma. "Don't be silly."
And she thought, I wonder if Dorcas is right? Perhaps everything wasmade. Everything in the whole world. Some parts early, some parts later.
You start with hills and clouds and things, and then you add highways andStores. Perhaps the job of humans is to make the world, and they're stilldoing it. That's why the machines have to suit them.
Gurder would have understood this sort of thing. I wish he were back.
And then Masklin would be back too.
She tried to think about something else.
Knobby tires. That was a good start. The Cat's back wheels were nearly ashigh as a human. It doesn't need highways. Of course it doesn't. It makeshighways. So it has to be able to go where highways aren't.
She pushed her way through the crowds to the back of the cab, whereanother group of nomes were already nomehandling a plank into position, and scrambled up to where Dorcas was trying to make himself heard in themiddle of an excited crowd.
"You're going to drive this out of here?" she demanded.
He looked up.
"Oh, yes," he said happily. "I think so. I hope so. I imagine we've gotat least an hour before any more humans come, and it's not a lotdifferent from a truck."
"We know how to do it!" shouted one of the younger nomes. "My dad told meall about the strings and stuff!"
Grimma looked around the cab. It seemed to be full of levers.
It'd been more than half a year since the Long Drive, and she'd nevertaken much notice of mechanical things, but she couldn't help thinkingthe old truck cab had been a lot less crowded. There had been some pedalsand a lever and the steering wheel, and that had been about it.
She turned back to Dorcas.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"No," he said. "You know I'm never sure. But a lot of the controls arefor its mou-for the bucket. The thing with the teeth in it. At the end ofits neck. I mean, the control arms. We needn't bother with them. They'reamazingly ingenious, though, and all you have to do-"
"Where's everyone going to sit? There isn't much room."
Dorcas shrugged. "I suppose the older people can travel in the cab. Theyoungsters will have to hang on where they can. We can wrap wires andthings around the place. For handholds, I mean. Look, don't worry. We'llbe driving in the light and we don't have to go fast."
"And then we'll get to the barn, won't we, Dorcas?" said Nooty. "Whereit'll be warm and there's lots of food."
"I hope so," said Dorcas. "Now, let's get on with things. We haven't gotmuch time. Where's Sacco with the battery?"
Grimma thought, Will there be lots of food at the barn? Where did we getthat idea? Angalo said that turnips or something were stored up there, and there may be some potatoes. That's not exactly a feast.
Her stomach, thinking thoughts of its own, rumbled in disagreement. Ithad been a very long night to pass on a tiny piece of cheese sandwich.
Anyway, we can't stay here now. Anywhere will be better than here.
"Dorcas," she said, "Is there anything I can help with?"
He looked up. "You could read the instruction book," he said. "See if itsays how to drive it."
"Don't you know?"
"Er. Not in so many words. Not exactly. I mean, I know how to do it, it'sjust that I don't know what to do."
It was under the bench on one side of the shed. Grimma propped it up andtried to concentrate despite the noise. I bet he does know, shethought. But this is his moment, and he doesn't want me getting in theway.
The nomes moved like people with a purpose. Things were far too bad tospend time grumbling. Funny thing, she thought as she turned the dirtypages, that people only seem to stop complaining when things get reallybad. That's when they start using words like pulling together, shouldersto the wheel, and noses to the grindstone. She'd found "nose to thegrindstone" in a book. Apparently it meant "to keep on with things." Shedidn't see why people were supposed to work hard if you ground theirnoses; it seemed more likely that they'd work hard if you promised togrind their noses if they didn't.
It had been the same with "Road Works Ahead" on the Long Drive. The roadahead works. How could it mean anything else? But the road had been fullof holes. Where was the sense in that? Words ought to mean what theymeant.
She turned the page.
There was a big brown ring on this one, where a human had put down a cup.
And the words Caterpillar Tractor Company, She gave them a blank look.
This is just what I mean, she thought. A caterpillar is a babybutterfly. A tractor is a sort of truck humans use in fields. Company iswhat you have when you're not alone. The words all mean something, andthen they get put together, and who knows what they mean then?
Across the floor a group of nomes swarmed around the slowly moving bulkof the battery. They were rolling it on rusty ball bearings.
The can of fuel wobbled after it.
Grimma turned another page and stared at the pictures of levers withnumbers on them. Suddenly people were keen on the barn, she thought. Suddenly, when things were not just averagely awful but promising to bereally dreadful, they seemed almost happy. Masklin had known about that.
It's amazing what people would do, he said, if you found the right placeto push.
She went on reading.
Back hoe. Now, what was that supposed to mean? Maybe you had to shoutinstructions to the Cat? Like, maybe, "Back, hoe!" And "Forward, hey!" Ormaybe not?