Diggers Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Masklin. Look, I need to know what the words ‘communications satellite’ mean. I’ve heard you use the word ‘satellite’ before. You said the moon is one, didn’t you?”
    â€œYes. But communications satellites are artificial moons. They are used for communications. Communications means the transferring of information. In this case, by radio and television.”
    â€œWhat’s television?” said Masklin.
    â€œA means of sending pictures through the air.”
    â€œDoes this happen a lot?”
    â€œAll the time.”
    Masklin made a mental note to look out for any pictures in the air.
    â€œI see,” he lied. “So these satellites—where are they, exactly?”
    â€œIn the sky.”
    â€œI don’t think I’ve ever seen one,” said Masklin doubtfully. There was an idea forming in his mind. He wasn’t quite sure yet. Bits and pieces of things he’d read and heard were coming together. The important thing was to let them take their own time, and not frighten them away.
    â€œThey are in orbit, many miles up. There are a great many above this planet,” said the Thing.
    â€œHow do you know that?”
    â€œI can detect them.”
    â€œOh.”
    Masklin stared at the flickering lights.
    â€œIf they are artificial, does that mean they’re not real?” he said.
    â€œThey are machines. They are usually built on the planet and then launched into space.”
    The idea was nearly there now. It was rising like a bubble. . . .
    â€œSpace is where our Ship is, you said.”
    â€œThat is correct.”
    Masklin felt the idea explode quietly, like a dandelion. “If we knew where one of these things was going to be flown into space,” he said, speaking quickly before the words had time to escape, “and we could sort of hang on to the sides or whatever, or maybe drive it like the Truck, and we took you with us, then we could jump off when we got up there and go and find this Ship of ours, couldn’t we?”
    The lights on top of the Thing moved oddly, into patterns Masklin had never seen before. This went on for quite a while before it spoke again. When it did, it sounded almost sad.
    â€œDo you know how big space is?” it said.
    â€œNo,” said Masklin politely. “It’s pretty big, is it?”
    â€œYes. However, it might be possible for me to detect and summon the Ship if I were taken above the atmosphere. But do you know what the words ‘oxygen supply’ mean?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œâ€˜Space suit’?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIt is very cold in space.”
    â€œWell, couldn’t we sort of jump around a bit to keep warm?” said Masklin desperately.
    â€œI think you do not appreciate what it is that space contains.”
    â€œWhat’s that, then?”
    â€œNothing. It contains nothing. And everything. But there is very little everything and more nothing than you could imagine.”
    â€œIt’s still worth a try, though, isn’t it?”
    â€œWhat you are proposing is an extremely unwise endeavor,” said the Thing.
    â€œYes, but, you see,” said Masklin firmly, “if I don’t try, then it’s always going to be like this. We’re always going to escape, and find somewhere new, and just when we’re getting the hang of it all, we’ll have to go again. Sooner or later we must find somewhere that we can know really belongs to us. Dorcas is right. Humans get everywhere. Anyway, you were the one who told me that our Home was . . . up there somewhere.”
    â€œThis is not the right time. You are ill prepared.”
    Masklin clenched his fists. “I’ll never be well prepared! I was born in a hole, Thing! A muddy hole in the ground! How can I ever be well prepared for anything? That’s what being alive is , Thing! It’s being badly prepared for everything! Because you only get one chance,