[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

"Some kind of airport, or spaceport," Shimoda rocked on his pillarlike legs.
"Something's getting ready to take off, somewhere." He turned to face the
Autothor. "What kind of building are we in?"
Page 70
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Very confused," insisted the Autothor above its internal humming. "There are
no buildings. There is only the Ship."
"The ship we are on, yes." There was urgency in
Iranaputra's voice. "But what about the rest of the structures?"
"Others? There is only one 'structure.''
Through the panel they could see that the walls of the cavern were moving.
No, Iranaputra thought. The walls were solid, immovable. Therefore,they had to
be the ones who were moving.
"There is only one structure," the ellipse reiterated, "and that is the Ship.
I do so dislike confusion. It and I have been in hiatus. Asleep." There was
satisfaction in its announcement. "We are both waking up now." A pause, then,
"I am monitoring external conditions. Everything is very much changed since
last I was active."
"Just out of curiosity, old thing, when was that?" Follingston-Heath
continued to minister to Gelmann.
"Definitions again." The wall outside the panel was definitely crumbling, the
hard stone powdering and collapsing, though they could hear nothing but the
rising rumble which seemed to be all around them now. The sensation of
movement intensified.
"About a million or so local years ago," the Autothor finally disclosed.
"Give or take a few thousand," it added apologetically.
They were silent then; at once fearful and expectant, exchanging glances,
eying the Autothor, or staring out through the ascending panel as they
wondered what was going to happen next. Indeed, they were wondering what was
happening then.
All except the serving robot, which was simultaneously genuflecting in the
direction of the luminous blue ellipse and struggling to compose supper.
VIM
IT was nearly midnight. Most of the inhabitants of the Lake Woneapenigong
Village retirement complex were asleep or at least in bed. A few insomniacs
for whom late-night broadcasts held incomprehensible attraction hovered around
brightly lit vid screens as avidly as any coeleopteran around a streetlight.
The Village's night staff went quietly about their familiar business. Nurses
and nursing machinery were on round-the-clock call at Lake Woneapenigong.
An exception was to be found in the persons of Mr. and Mrs. Esau Hawthorne of
Wing F, who, unable to sleep, had taken possession of a swing couch on the
porch overlooking the lake and were at that moment engaged in the ancient and
time-honored recreational activity known as rocking. A split moon cast dancing
streaks of molten silver on the calm waters of the lake.
At least, they had been calm until they started to bubble energetically.
Mrs. Hawthorne touched the switch which slowed the swing's motion and hunched
forward, clutching the collar of the flowery thermosensitive nightgown tight
to her neck. In their younger days she and her husband had spent many relaxing
hours sitting by diverse lakes on their homeworld of Westernia in the First
Page 71
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Federal Federation, and she was quite sure that none of them had acted even
beneath a split moon like an old-fashioned bottle of carbonated soda. The
bub-bling was much louder than the cry of a loon or the hoot of an owl. It was
louder even than Mr. Hawthorne's occasional snores.
An event had begun which was soon to awaken everyone in the Village, not to
mention those over in Mt. Holly and distant Albany, but Mr. and Mrs. Esau
Hawthorne were the only ones to observe it in its entirety.
"Esau, I do believe we are having an earthquake."
"Yup." Esau Hawthorne crossed his hands over his stomach and leaned back in
the padded swing, eyes half-closed, his pajamas open to the navel to expose
his white-haired torso. Esau liked it cooler than his spouse.
Nothing more was said for several minutes. The trembling that had begun as a
whisper was now shaking the entire Village complex. Rose Hawthorne watched a
couple of roofing panels slide off the top of the porch and crash into the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]