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His mind stirred and turned. He
recalled the bizarre garb of the Chilmen, their red jeans and ornate leather trainers. Every word the off-islanders spoke
betrayed an unsettling incomprehension of all that was certain to Carl: the firm ground of Ham itself. To go out into the
world of these fares, what would that be like? Besides, from what Antonë had told him, the strange ways of the Chilmen were
as nothing compared to those of Londoners. It wasn't the threat of the PCO and its Inspectors that bothered Carl – such things
were too remote – but the loss of his home, his beautiful island.
    Towards first tariff, Carl crept out from the box bed, slapped across the yok flags, unlatched the door and went out into
the greying gloom. He followed the same route he had the day before, back across the home field, over the ridge and around
Hel Bä until he reached the old tower. Dave had switched off the headlight, but Carl had no need of it to find his way. He
could have walked the whole island – saving the zones – in his sleep. Once at the tower, he walked under the heavy lintel,
ignoring the buddyspikes growing out of the stonework that tore at his face. It wasn't strictly forbidden to enter the five
towers of Ham, although it wasn't altogether allowed. Nevertheless the children had all been in before, frightening each other
with tales of how the giants would get them. Sitting down in the remains of a fireplace, Carl looked up through the open roof
of the tower to the screen. The dashboard still shone up there, the arrangements of lights the same as those he had been taught
to recognize by Caff when he was a little fare, sitting on her lap on the ground outside the Ridmun gaff, his head nestling
in the hollow of her neck.
    â€“ Vass ve ëdlite, she'd said, ven iss on fulbeem we C ve lites ahtside, yeah, ve streetlites uv Nú Lundun. An ven iss dipped,
we C ve dashbawd, rí, mì lyttul luv?
    â€“ Owzabaht Dave, Mummi, vairs ee?
    â€“ Ees sittin infruntuv uz, luv, but we carn C im coz ees invizzibull.
    â€“ But ee can C uz, earn ee, Mummi?
    â€“ O yeah, mì luv, ee can C uz, ee sees uz in iz mirra. Ees lookin awl ve tym – lookin in ve mirra ä uz, an lookin froo ve
screen 4 ve Loss Boy. An uppabuv im, mì luv, uppabuv im vairs ve Flyin I, an ee sees all ve wurl.
    Yet now, seven years later, huddling in the fireplace at the giants' tower, Carl doubted that Dave saw anything at all in
his mirror let alone him.

    Midway through the first tariff of the following day, when the foglamp was already high over the Gayt, the dads of Ham gathered
for the Council. While the Council wall was right by the manor, stands of willowstalk and blisterweed hid their deliberations
from the prying eyes of mummies, opares and kids. The dads looked instead to the bay, where, through the sole gap in the vegetation,
the Hack's pedalo could be seen, drawn up on the shore. Although there were only twelve dads and granddads now, Fred had told
Carl that in his own youth twenty dads had deliberated, while a generation before that there had been more than thirty – all
pitching in to argue and dispute the business of the community.
    In those days the Council had been a babel, but in the years since the Driver came among them order had been imposed on the
noisy little assembly. This was never more noticeable than during midsummer, when for a full month the Hack's party was in
residence. Then the Council conducted itself with great solemnity, the better to impress the visitors. On the first day after
the Hack had arrived it was customary for him to judge those wrongdoers who had committed crimes in the intervening year deemed
too serious to be dealt with by the Guvnor. However, there were hardly ever any of these – theft and violence were all but
unknown among the dads, while tittle-tattle, bubbling and other instances of bad faith were dealt with by Fred. A simple oath
upon the Book was always sufficient to