Not meant by anyone, he told himself conscientiously. Just meant in general.
Gurder considered this.
"Well, all right," he said. "But no cutting the bag. We can get in through the zipper, all right?"
They did. It stuck a bit halfway, since zippers always do, but it didn't take long to get an opening big enough for the nomes to climb down inside.
"What shall we do if he looks in?" said Angalo.
"Nothing," said Masklin. "Just smile, I suppose."
The tree frogs were far out on the branch now. What had looked like a smooth expanse of gray-green wood was, close up, a maze of rough bark, roots, and clumps of moss. It was unbearably frightening for frogs who had spent their lives in a world with petals around it.
But they crawled onward. They didn't know the meaning of the word
"retreat." If it came to that, they didn't know the meaning of the word
"bromeliad." Or "frog." Or any other word.
Chapter 4
Hotels: A place where traveling humans are parkedat night. Other humans bring them food, including the famous bacon, lettuce, and tomatosandwich. There are beds and towels and specialthings that rain on humans to get them clean. From A Scientific Encyclopedia or the EnquiringYoung Nome by Angalo de Haberdasheri.
Blackness.
"It's very dark in here, Masklin."
"Yes, and I can't get comfortable."
"Well, you'll have to make the best of it."
"A hairbrush! I've just sat down on a hair-brush!"
"We will be landing shortly."
"Good."
"And there's a tube of something-"
"I'm hungry. Isn't there anything to eat?"
"I've still got that peanut."
"Where? Where?"
"Now you've made me drop it."
"Gurder?"
"Yes?"
"What are you doing? Are you cutting something?"
"He's cutting a hole in his sock."
Silence.
"Well? What of it? I can if I want to. It's my sock."
More silence.
"I shall just feel better for doing it."
Still more silence.
"It's just a human, Gurder. There's nothing special about it."
"We're in its bag, aren't we?"
"Yes, but you said yourself that Arnold Bros. is something in our heads.
Didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, then?"
"This just makes me feel better, that's all. Subject closed."
"We're about to land."
"How will we know when-"
"I am sure I could have done it better. Eventually."
"Is this the Florida place? Angalo, get your foot out of my face."
"Yes. This country traditionally welcomes immigrants. "
"Is that what we are?"
"Technically you are en route to another destination."
"Which?"
"The stars."
"Oh. Thing?"
"Yes?"
"Is there any record of nomes being here before?"
"What do you mean? We're the nomes!"
"Yes, but there may have been others."
"We're all that there is! Aren't we?"
Tiny colored lights flickered in the darkness of the bag.
"Thing?" Masklin repeated.
"I am searching available data. Conclusion: no reliable sighting of nomes. All recorded immigrants have been in excess of four inches high."
"Oh. I just wondered. I wondered if we were all that there was."
"You heard the Thing. No reliable sightings, it said."
"No one saw us until today."
"Thing, do you know what happens next?"
"We will pass through Immigration and Customs. Are you now, or have you ever been, a member of a subversive organization?"
Silence.
"What, us? Why are you asking us that?"
"It is the sort of question that gets asked. I am monitoring communications."
"Oh. Well. I don't think we have. Have we?"
"No."
"No."
"No. I didn't think we were. What does 'subversive' mean?"
"The question seeks to establish whether you 've come here to overthrow the Government of the United States."
"I don't think we want to do that. Do we?"
"No."
"No."
"No, we don't. They don't have to worry about us."
"Very clever idea, though."
"What is?"
"Asking the questions when people arrive. If anyone was coming here to do some subversive overthrowing, everyone'd be down on him like a pound of bricks as soon as he answered 'Yes.' "
"It's a sneaky trick, isn't it?" said Angalo, in an admiring tone of voice.
"No, we don't want to do any overthrowing," said Masklin to the Thing.
"We just want to steal one of their going-straight-up jets. What are theycalled again?"
"Space shuttles."
"Right. And then we'll be off. We don't want to cause any trouble."
The bag bumped around and was put down. There was a tiny sawing noise, totally unheard amid the noise of the airport. A very small hole appeared in the leather. An eye appeared.
"What's he doing?" said Gurder.
"Stop pushing," said Masklin. "I can't concentrate. Now it looks like we're in a line of humans."
"We've been waiting for ages," said Angalo.
"I expect everyone's being asked if they're going to do any overthrowing," said Gurder wisely.
"I hardly like to bring this up," said Angalo, "but how are we going to find this shuttle?"
"We'll sort that out when the time comes," said Masklin uncertainly.
"The time's come," said Angalo. "Hasn't it?"
Masklin shrugged helplessly.
"You didn't think we'd arrive in this Florida place and there'd be signs up saying 'This way to Space,' did you?" said Angalo sarcastically.
Masklin hoped his thoughts didn't show up on his face. "Of course not," he said.
"Well, what do we do next?" Angalo insisted.
"We ... we ... we ask the Thing," said Masklin. He looked relieved.
"That's what we'll do. Thing?"
"Yes?"
Masklin shrugged. "What do we do next?"
"Now that," said Angalo, "is what I call planning."
The bag shifted. Grandson Richard, 39, was moving up the line.
"Thing? I said, what do we do-"
"Nothing."
"How can we do nothing?"
"By performing an absence of activity."
"What good is that?"
"The paper said Richard Arnold was going to Florida for the launch of the communications satellite. Therefore, he is going to the place where the satellite is now. Ergo, we will go with him."
"Who's Ergo?" said Gurder, looking around.
The Thing flickered its lights at him.
"It means 'therefore,' " it said.
Masklin looked doubtful. "Do you think he'll take this bag with him?"
"Uncertain."
There wasn't a lot in the bag, Masklin had to admit. It contained mainlysocks, papers, a few odds and ends like hairbrushes, and a book calledThe Spy with No Trousers. This last item had caused them some concernwhen the bag had been unzipped just after the plane landed, butGrandson Richard, 39, had thrust it in among the papers without glancinginside. Now that there was a little light to see by, Angalo was tryingto read it. Occasionally he'd mutter under his breath.
"It seems to me," Masklin said eventually, "that Grandson Richard, 39, isn't going to go straight off to watch the satellite fly away. I'm surehe'll go somewhere and sleep first. Do you know when this shuttle jetflies, Thing?"
"Uncertain. I can talk to other computers only when they are within my range. The computers here know only about airport matters."