The Bromeliad 2 - Diggers

by Terry Pratchett

  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?

  She stared at the pages, and tried to get interested in levers.

  The clouds running before the sun were spreading across the pink of thesky. Red sky in the morning, Grimma had read once. It meant sailorswere unhappy. She didn't know what sailors were, though, or why they madethe sky red when they were unhappy.

  In the dark office the human awoke, mooed for a while, and tried to jerkfree of the cobweb of wires that held it down. After a lot of effort it wriggled most of one arm free.

  What the human did next would have surprised most nomes. It caught holdof a chair and, with a great deal of grunting, managed to tip it over. Itpulled it across the floor, manipulated the leg under a couple ofstrands of wire, and heaved.

  A minute later it was sitting upright, pulling more wires free.

  Its huge eyes fell on the scrap of paper on the floor.

  It stared at it for a moment, rubbing its arms, and then it picked up thetelephone.

  Dorcas prodded vaguely at a wire.

  "Are you sure the battery is connected the right way, sir?" said Sacco.

  "I can tell the difference between red wires and black wires, you know," said Dorcas mildly, prodding another wire.

  "Then perhaps the battery doesn't have enough electricity," said Grimmahelpfully, trying to see over their shoulders. "Perhaps it's all run tothe bottom, or gone dry."

  Dorcas and Sacco exchanged glances.

  "Electricity doesn't sink," said Dorcas patiently. "Or dry up, as far asI know. It's either there or it isn't. Excuse me." He peered up into themass of wires again, and gave one a poke. There was a pop, and a fat bluespark.

  "It's there all right," he added. "It'
s just that it isn't where itshould be."

  Grimma walked back across the greasy floor of the cab. Groups of nomeswere standing around, waiting. Hundreds of them were clutching the wiresattached to the big steering wheel above them. Other teams stood by withbits of wood pressing, like battering rams, on the pedals.

  "Just a bit of a delay," she said. "All the electricity's got lost."

  There were nomes everywhere. On the Long Drive there had been a wholetruck for them. But the Cat's cab was smaller, and people had to packthemselves in where they could.

  What a ragged bunch, Grimma thought. And it was true. Even in the suddenrush from the Store the nomes had been able to bring a lot of stuff. Andthey had been plump and well dressed.

  Now they were thinner and leaner and much dirtier and all they weretaking with them were the torn and grubby clothes they stood up in. Even the books had been left behind. A hundred books took up the space ofthree hundred nomes, and while Grimma privately thought that some of thebooks were more useful than many of the nomes, she'd accepted Dorcas'spromise that they would come back one day and try to retrieve them fromtheir hiding place under the floor.

  Well, thought Grimma. We tried. We really made an effort. We came to thequarry to dig in, look after ourselves, live proper lives. And we failed.

  We thought all we had to do was bring the right things from the Store, but we brought a lot of wrong things too. Next time we'll need to go asfar away from humans as possible, and I don't actually think anywhere isfar enough.

  She climbed up onto the rickety driving platform, which had been madeby tying a plank across the cab. There were even nomes on this. Theywatched her expectantly.

  At least driving the Cat should be easier. The leaders of the teams onthe controls could see her, so she wouldn't have to mess around withsemaphore and pieces of thread as they'd done when they left the Store.

  And a lot of the nomes had done this before too ...

  She heard Dorcas shout, "Try it this time!"

  There was a click. There was a whirr. Then the Cat roared.

  The sound bounced around the cave of the shed. It was so loud and so deepit wasn't really sound at all, just something that turned the air hardand then hit you with it. Nomes flung themselves flat on the tremblingdeck of the cab.

  Grimma, clutching at her ears, saw Dorcas running across the floor, waving his hands. The team on the accelerator pedal gave him a "Who, us?" look and stopped pushing.

  The sound died down to a deep, rumbling purr, a mummummummum that stillhad a feel-it-in-the-bone quality. Dorcas hurried back and climbed, witha lot of stopping for breath, up to the plank.

  When he got there he sat down and rubbed his brow.

  "I'm getting too old for this sort of thing," he said. "When a nome getsto a certain age, it's time to stop stealing giant vehicles. Well-knownfact. Anyway. It's ticking over nicely. You might as well take us out."

  "What, all by myself?" said Grimma.

  "Yes. Why not?"

  "It's just that, well, I thought Sacco or someone would be up here." Ithought a male nome would be driving, she thought.

  "They'd like to," said Dorcas. "They'd love to. And we'd be zipping allover the place, I don't doubt it, with them crying 'yippee!' and whatnot.

  No. I want a nice peaceful drive across the fields, thank you very much.

  The gentle touch."

  He leaned down.

  "Everyone ready down there?" he yelled.

  There was a chorus of nervous "yesses," and one or two cheerful ones. "I wonder if putting Sacco in charge of the go-faster pedal is really a good idea," mused Dorcas. He straightened up.

  "Er. You're not worried, are you?" he said.

  Grimma snorted. "What? Me? No. Of course not. It does not," she added, "present a problem."

  "O-kay," he said. "Let's go."

  There was silence, except for the deep thrumming of the engine.

  Grimma paused.

  If Masklin were here, she thought, he'd do this better than me. No one mentions him anymore. Or Angalo. Or Gurder. They don't like thinkingabout them. That must be something nomes learned hundreds of years ago, in this world full of foxes and rushing things and a hundred nasty waysto die. If someone is missing, you must stop thinking about them, youmust put them out of your mind. But I think about him all the time.

  I just went on about the frogs in the flowers, and I never thought about his dreams.

  Dorcas gently put his arm around her. She was shaking. Everyone was shaking to the deep chugging of the motor. But she was shaking worse. "We should have sent some people to the airport to see what happened to him," she muttered. "It would have showed that we cared, and-"

  "We didn't have the time, and we didn't have the people," said Dorcas softly. "When he comes back we can explain about that. He's bound to understand." "Yes," she whispered.

  "And now," said Dorcas, standing back, "let's go!"

  Grimma took a deep breath.

  "First gear," she bellowed, "and go forward verrrry slowly."

  The teams pushed and pulled their way over the deck. There was a slight shudder and the engine noise dropped. The Cat lurched forward and jolted to a stop. The motor coughed and died.

  Dorcas looked thoughtfully at his fingernails. "Hand brake, hand brake, hand brake," he hummed softly.

  Grimma glared at him, and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Take the hand brake off!" she shouted. "Right! Now, get into first gear and go forward very slowly!" There was a click, and silence.

  "Startthemotor, startthemotor, startthemotor," murmured Dorcas, rocking back and forth on his heels.

  Grimma sagged. "Put everything back where it was and start the motor," she screamed.

  Nooty, in charge of the hand brake team, called up, "Do you want the handbrake on or off, miss?"

  "What?"

  "You haven't told us what to do with the hand brake, miss," said Sacco.

  The nomes with him started to grin.

  Grimma shook a finger at him. "Listen, mister," she snapped, "if I haveto come down there and tell you what to do with the hand brake, you'llall be extremely sorry, all right? Now stop giggling like that and getthis thing moving! Quickly!"

  There was a click. The Cat howled again and started to move. A cheer wentup from the nomes.

  "Right," said Grimma. "That's more like it."

  "The doors, the doors, the doors, we didn't open the doors," hummedDorcas.

  "Of course we didn't open the doors," said Grimma as the digger began togo faster. "We never open the doors! What do we need to open the doorsfor? This is the Cat!"

  Chapter 14

  V. There is nothing that can be in our way, forthis is the Cat, that laughs at barriers, andpurrs brrm-brrm.

  -From the Book of Nome, Cat III, v. V

  It was an old shed. It was a very rusty shed. It was a shed that wobbledin high winds. The only thing even vaguely new about it was the padlockon the door, which the Cat hit at about six miles an hour. The ricketybuilding rang like a gong, leapt off its foundations, and was draggedhalfway across the quarry before it fell apart in a shower of rust andsmoke. The Cat emerged like a very angry chick from a very old egg andthen rolled to a stop.

  Grimma picked herself up from the plank and nervously started to pickbits of rust off herself.

  "We've stopped," she said vaguely, her ears still ringing. "Why have westopped, Dorcas?"

  He didn't bother to try to get up. The thump of the Cat hitting the doorhad knocked all the breath out of him.

  "I think," he said, "that everyone might have been flung about a little.

  Why did you want it to go so fast?"

  "Sorry!" Sacco called up. "Bit of a misunderstanding there, I think!"

  Grimma pulled herself together. "Well," she said, "I got us out, anyway.

  I've got the hang of it now. We'll just ... we'll just ... we'll ..." Dorcas heard her voice fade into silence. He looked up.

  There was a truck parked in front of the quarry. And thre
e humans were running toward the Cat in big, floating bounds. "Oh, dear," he said.

  "Didn't it read my note?" asked Grimma.

  "I'm afraid it did," said Dorcas. "Now, we shouldn't panic. We've got a choice. We can either-" "Go forward," snapped Grimma. "Right now!" "No, no," said Dorcas weakly,

  "I wasn't going to suggest that-"

  "First gear!" Grimma commanded. "And lots of fast!"

  "No, you don't want to do that," Dorcas murmured.

  "Watch me," said Grimma. "I warned them! They can read, we know they can read! If they're really intelligent, they're intelligent enough to know better!" The Cat gathered speed.

  "You mustn't do this," said Dorcas. "We've always kept away from humans!" "They don't keep away from us!" shouted Grimma.

  "But-"

  "They demolished the Store, they tried to stop us from escaping, now they're taking our quarry, and they don't even know what we are!" said Grimma. "Remember the gardening department in the Store? Those horrible garden ornament statues? Well, I'm going to show them real nomes ..." "You can't beat humans!" shouted Dorcas above the roar of the engine. "They're too big! You're too small!"

  "They may be big," said Grimma, "and I may be small. But I'm the one with the great big truck. With teeth." She leaned over the plank. "Everyone hang on down there," she shouted. "This may be rough." It had dawned on the great slow creatures outside that something was wrong. They stopped their lumbering charge and, very slowly, tried to dodge out of the way. Two of them managed to leap into the empty office as the Cat bowled past. "I see," said Grimma. "They must think we're stupid. Take a big left turn. More. More. Now stop. Okay." She rubbed her hands together.

  "What are you going to do?" whispered Dorcas, terrified.

  Grimma leaned over the plank.

  "Sacco," she said. "You see those other levers?"

  The pale round blobs of the humans' faces appeared at the dusty windowsof the shed.

  The Cat was twenty feet away, vibrating gently in the early morning mist.

  Then the engine roared. The big front shovel came up, catching the sunlight. The Cat sprang forward, bouncing across the quarry floor and taking outone wall of the shed like ripping the lid off a can. The other walls andthe roof folded up gently, as if it were a house of cards with the ace ofspades flipped away.