Truckers by Terry Pratchett

walked over to the door, leaned against it, and pushed it until his arms ached. Eventually it swung in a little way.
    There was no light inside, but by the faint glow from the corridor through the glass he could see he was entering a large room. The carpet was much thicker—it was like wading through grass. Several yards away was a large rectangular wooden thing; as he walked around it, he saw a chair behind it. Perhaps this was where Arnold Bros (est. 1905) sat.
    â€œWhere are you, Arnold Bros (est. 1905)?” he whispered.
    Some minutes later the other two heard him calling softly. They peered around the door.
    â€œWhere are you?” hissed Grimma.
    â€œUp here,” came Masklin’s voice. “This big wooden thing. There’s sticking-out bits you can climb on. There’s all kinds of things up here. Careful of the carpet—there could be wild animals in it. If you wait a minute, I can help you up.”
    They waded through the deep pile of the carpet and waited anxiously by the wooden cliff.
    â€œIt’s a desk,” said Gurder, loftily. “There’s lots of them in Furnishing. Amazing Value In Genuine One Hundred Percent Oak Veneer.”
    â€œWhat’s he doing up there?” said Grimma. “I can hear clinking noises.”
    â€œA Must In Every Home,” said Gurder, as if saying the words gave him some comfort. “Wide Choice Of Styles To Suit Every Pocket.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œSorry. It’s the sort of thing Arnold Bros (est. 1905) writes on the signs. I just feel better for saying it.”
    â€œWhat’s that other thing up there?”
    He looked where she was pointing.
    â€œThat? It’s a chair. Swiveled Finish For That Executive Look.”
    â€œIt looks big enough for humans,” she said thoughtfully.
    â€œI expect humans sit there when Arnold Bros (est. 1905) is giving them their instructions.”
    â€œHmm,” she said.
    There was a clinking noise by her head.
    â€œSorry,” Masklin called down. “It took me a while to hook them together.”
    Gurder looked up at the heights, and the gleaming chain that now hung down.
    â€œPaper clips,” he said, amazed. “I never would have thought it.”
    When they clambered to the top, they found Masklin wandering across the shiny surface, prodding things with his spear. This was paper, Gurder explained airily, and things for making marks.
    â€œWell, Arnold Bros (est. 1905) doesn’t seem to be around,” Masklin said. “Perhaps he’s gone to bed, or whatever.”
    â€œThe Abbot said he saw him here one night, sitting at the desk right here,” said Gurder. “Watching over the Store.”
    â€œWhat, sitting on that chair?” said Grimma.
    â€œI suppose so.”
    â€œSo he’s big, then, is he?” Grimma pressed on relentlessly. “Sort of human sized?”
    â€œSort of,” Gurder agreed reluctantly.
    â€œHmm.”
    Masklin found a cable as thick as his arm winding off across the top of the desk. He followed it.
    â€œIf he’s human shaped and human sized,” said Grimma, “then perhaps he’s a—”
    â€œLet’s just see what we can find up here, shall we?” said Gurder hurriedly. He walked over to a pile of paper and started reading the top sheet by the dim light coming in from the corridor. He read slowly, in a very loud voice.
    â€œâ€˜The Arnco Group,’” he read, “‘incorporating Arnco Developments (UK), United Television, Arnco-Schultz (Hamburg) AG, Arnco Airlines, Arnco Recording, the Arnco Organization (Cinemas) Ltd., Arnco Petroleum Holdings, Arnco Publishing, and Arnco UK Retailing Ltd.’”
    â€œGosh,” said Grimma flatly.
    â€œThere’s more,” said Gurder excitedly, “in much smaller letters—perhaps they’re meant to be right for us. Listen to all these names: ‘Arnco UK Retailing