"A peripheral," he said. The tall thing’s round pink head was fronted with a sort of squared-off trumpet, that same pink, through which it blared down, incomprehensibly, at the small crowd of figures surrounding it, at least one of which seemed to be a penguin, though as tall as she was. The tall speaker wore a tight black suit, its arms and legs very narrow. She couldn’t understand what it was saying, but thought she made out the word "nomenclature." "They’re all mad," he said. "They might all be peripherals. Harmless, though. This way."