The dust sheets

Most of the attic floor is covered. The Slopwright threw old sheets over what he was not going to use again. The sheets have settled over the boxes, trunks and rolled carpets into a country of long soft slopes, ridges where a trunk stands on end and valleys between, all the same pale grey under the dust. A curtain moth sees it from above as hills. The round window gives all the light there is; the Draught comes in at it, and goes up the side of every heap it meets. In Mothlight it is what the moth crosses.

Nothing is written down about what is under any particular sheet. Like everything else here, it was made by a machine.