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“You can't be thinking of taking it out on a night like this,” he said. “It's madness!”
Granny slithered along the wet planking of the jetty, which was already nearly under water.
“You don't know anything about boats!” Cutangle protested.
“I shall have to learn quickly, then,” replied Granny calmly.
“But I haven't been in a boat since I was a boy!”
o;You'll get tired,” it continued. “We can wait. We're very good at waiting.”
It made a feint to the left, but Esk swung around to face it.
“That doesn't matter,” she said. “I'm only dreaming this, and you can't get hurt in dreams.”
The Thing paused, and looked at her with its empty eyes.
“Have you got a word in your world, I think it's called 'psychosomatic'?”
“Never heard of it,” snapped Esk.
“It means you can get hurt in your dreams. And what is so interesting is that if you die in your dreams you stay here. That would be niiiiice.”
Esk glanced sideways at the distant mountains, sprawled on the chilly horizon like melted mud pies. There were no trees, not even any rocks. Just sand and cold stars and
She felt the movement rather than heard it and turned with the pyramid held between her hands like a club. It hit the Simon-thing in mid-leap with a satisfying thump, but as soon as it hit the ground it somersaulted forward and bounced upright with unpleasant ease. But it had heard her gasp and had seen the brief pain in her eyes. It paused.
“Ah, that hurt you, Did it not? You don't like to see another one suffer, yes? Not this one, it seems.”
It turned and beckoned, and two of the tall Things lurched over to it and gripped it firmly by the arms.
Its eyes changed. The darkness faded, and then Simon's own eyes looked out of his face. He stared up at the Things on either side of him and struggled briefly, but one had several pairs of tentacles wrapped around his wrist and the other was holding his arm in the world's largest lobster claw.
Then he saw Esk, and his eyes fell to the little glass pyramid.
“Run away!” he hissed. “Take it away from here! Don't let them get it!” He grimaced as the claw tightened on his arm.
“Is this a trick?” said Esk. “Who are you really?”
“Don't you recognise me?” he said wretchedly. “What are you doing in my dream?”
“If this is a dream then I'd like to wake up, please,” said Esk.
“Listen. You must run away now, do you understand? Don't stand there with your mouth open.”
GIVE IT To us, said a cold voice inside Esk's head.
Esk looked down at the glass pyramid with its unconcerned little world and stared up at Simon, her mouth an O of puzzlement.
“But what is it?”
“Look hard at it!”
Esk peered through the glass. If she squinted it seemed that the little Disc was granular, as if it was made up of millions of tiny specks. If she looked hard at the specks
“It's just numbers!” she said. “The whole world - it's all made up of numbers . . . .”
“It's not the world, it's an idea of the world,” said Simon. “I created it for them. They can't get through to us, do you see, but ideas have got a shape here. Ideas are real!”
