He had discovered some time ago that at the back of the factory there was a small hole at the bottom of the barbed wire fence, just the right size for a skinny nine year old boy to fit through. Nigh made his way carefully down the hill so as not to slip on the wet grass and climbed quietly through the hole pulling the hat and briefcase behind him. The factory consisted of two tall silver buildings, one rectangle and one square, connectеd at the centre by anothеr giant bubble shaped building roughly double the size of the others. The whole of the structure was covered from top to bottom in long lines of blinking lights in lighted windows. It looked to Nigh like a giant version of the old recording equipment that his grandmother kept in their basement. Looking up at the smokestacks Nigh wondered if he had ever seen anything quite so tall. Standing right up next to the for the first time, he had certainly never felt smaller. Just then, Nigh heard the sound of voices and footsteps coming from somewhere nearby. He looked around for someplace to hide but could see none. Moving along the back of the great structure he came to a single unmarked door and gave its knob a try the door was unlocked and Nigh, hearing the voices and footsteps draw nearer, slowly and quietly cracked the door open and stepped inside. What Nigh saw then was at once the most amazing and beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. Rows of singing white haired women sitting on a vast and spiralling assembly line. In front of each, a small and perfectly formed cloud floating only inches above a frost covered silver tray. Men cranking cranks and pulling levers upon huge machines made of silver and bronze. Hundreds of workers suspended in mid-air by string, pulleys, and wire peddling upon small contraptions whose pedals and gears were linked to bigger gears and those to bigger gears and those to bigger gears yet. Above them giant fans blowing the larger completed clouds towards smokestacks high along the factory's vast lighted ceiling, creating huge cloud shaped shadows that drifted over the men and women working a hundred feet below. He saw several raised platforms, upon which sat workers surrounded by huge control panels of blinking and flashing lights, buttons and knobs of every imaginable size and colour. frost covered golden tubs housing hundreds of tiny floating clouds waiting for inspection. Suspended from the ceiling a giant clock of a sort he had never seen before flanked on all sides by a towering flank of gauges and meters. And rising out of it all on the tallest platform yet he saw the elder cloud maker who, from his perch high above, directed the flow of the entire factory with graceful waves of his left hand while calling out through the megaphone in his right. "Nimbus 200 of 3000, Stratus 44 of 53, Cumulus 27 of 413..." and on and on. Nigh realised that he had begun to shiver and noticed also that he could see his breath. Looking around at the singing silver haired women seated all about him, Nigh noticed that their breath could be seen as well. In fact, upon closer inspection, it almost looked as if the women were singing the clouds before them. Putting on Mr Ackerman's large hat and crossing his arms against the chill, Nigh proceeded to look about the building for any sign of Mr Ackerman. He noticed that every single chair in the building seemed to be filled with the exception of one, and that this one empty chair seemed to be the focus of many an anxious glance by the workers in its midst. Even the elder cloud maker, directing the whole factory from his platform high above, was seen to glance worriedly at this empty chair from time to time. Indeed, this chair located high atop the only empty examination platform seemed to be a matter of great concern to all the cloud makers. Crawling his way along the factory's back wall so as not to be noticed, Nigh made his way slowly but surely to the platform in question. He waited silently until he was sure no one was looking, then climbed slowly to the platforms top. Peeking over the edge, Nigh could clearly see a sliver plaque bolted to the back of the empty chair, and etched upon this silver plaque he could clearly see was the name R.A.Ackerman. Nigh suddenly became quite aware that every sound in the factory had ceased and had been replaced by a shocked and deadly silence. Looking up he saw that all work in the factory had come to a stop and that every last eye in the vast building was upon him. "A little boy?" boomed the elder cloud maker, who in his shock did not realise that he was still speaking through the megaphone. Several of the cloud makers began slowly to rise to their feet and Nigh, now aware that he might be in terrible trouble, collected the briefcase and ran as fast as he could towards the door through which he had entered. Finding the door still unlocked Nigh made a hasty exit, not looking back even once outside. Hearing a growing commotion behind him he made his way to the gate and squeeze himself back through the small hole. Once through, he ran as fast as he could up the hill and to the road just beyond it. At just that moment, a fire engine with its lights flashing slowly turned the corner and began sounding its alarm, having just pulled out of the engine house. The firemen onboard were under the luring influence of the fire siren and did not notice the small boy as he climbed onto the road. Nigh hid himself underneath on of the fire engine's big benches and, exhausted by the day's adventures, drifted off to sleep. He awoke a good time later a to find a wet and motley group of firemen looking down at him. "Don't you know that fire engines are dangerous places for little boys?" asked a fireman with a kind face. "You could have been hurt. What's your name?" "Nigh," said Nigh. "You mustn't ever go near a fire engine when it's in use, Nigh. Now if you were to come by the engine house some afternoon, that'd be a different story. Why, me and the boys, we'd even give you a tour, but when we're fighting a fire that's business only for a trained firefighter, and even trained firefighters die fighting fires. Do you understand, Nigh?" Nigh nodded yes and the fireman smiled. "Someday, Nigh, you might even grow up to be a real fireman, just like us." Though he tried not to show it Nigh shuddered inwardly at the thought of being forever subject to the whims of the fire siren. "Where do you live, Nigh?" the fireman asked. Nigh looked up to see where he was and saw in the afternoon light that the truck had travelled rather far from Telegraph Road. However, not wanting to answer to many more questions about his days activities, Nigh pointed to a spot vaguely down the block. "Well, you head on home now, Nigh." Relieved, Nigh stepped down from the fire truck. "Oh, and Nigh, where did you get the hat and briefcase from?" "They're... they're my father's," said Nigh. The fireman smiled and with that the engine was off, leaving Nigh standing alone on a street corner.
