A Floater is tall and spindly, half again a Human’s height and thin as a rake, with long limbs, long fingers, and a narrow head on a long neck. Its skin is pale grey, light and papery, and stretched over a frame so slight it seems hollow. It moves with a jerky, bouncing gait, each step a long hop that lands softly, and on the rim, where everything else labours, it looks as if it is about to blow away. It speaks in a high, quick voice. It smells faintly of dust.

They live around the rim and the upper slopes of the Well, among the stones and dust that hang in the air drifting inward. A Well holds a scattering of them, near the Weight-Bearers' trading places.

Floaters are quick, chattering, and curious, and quite unlike the slow Weight-Bearers they work beside. They dive into the heavier zones in short runs, seize what they came for, and bounce back out before the weight holds them. They are friendly to salvagers and will bargain, often for food from outside.

They move faster at the rim than anything else in the Well and can go further in than visitors for a short while. They cannot go deep: near the centre a Floater would be crushed as surely as a Human.

Nothing about their life cycle is known for certain.

Salvagers hire Floaters to fetch what the Well has pulled in, a lost tool, a fallen pack, the debris of a collapse, and trade them for it. They are harmless.

Prospectors say a Floater who stops bouncing is a warning that the Well is about to tighten, and leave when one sits down. It is a rule of thumb, and not a bad one.