Find a blue planet ... Focus.

This is a planet. Most of it is covered in water. It's called Earth.

Find a country... . Focus... . Blues and greens and browns under thesun, and here's a pale oblong, which is ... focus ... an airport, aconcrete hive for silver bees. There's a ... focus ... building full ofpeople and noise, and ... focus ... a hall of lights and bustle, and ... focus ... a. bin full of rubbish, and ... focus ... a pair oftiny eyes... .

Focus... . Focus... . Focus... . Click!

Masklin slid cautiously down an old burger carton.

He'd been watching humans. Hundreds and hundreds of humans. It wasbeginning to dawn on him that getting on a jet plane wasn't like stealinga truck.

Angalo and Gurder had nestled deep into the rubbish and were gloomilyeating the remains of a cold, greasy french fry.

This has come as a shock to all of us, Masklin thought.

I mean, take Gurder. Back in the Store he was the Abbot. He believed thatArnold Bros. made the Store for nomes. And he still thinks there's some sort of Arnold Bros. somewhere, watching over us, because we wereimportant. And now we're out here and all we've found is that nomesaren't important at all... .

And there's Angalo. He doesn't believe in Arnold Bros., but he likes tothink Arnold Bros. exists just so that he can go on not believing inhim.

And there's me.

I never thought it would be this hard.

I thought jet planes were just trucks with more wings and less wheels.

There's more humans in this place than I've ever seen before. How can we find Grandson Richard, 39, in a place like this?

I hope they're going to save me some of that french fry.

Angalo looked up.

"Seen him?" he said, sarcastically.

Masklin shrugged. "There are lots of humans with beards," he said. "They all look the same to me."