the controls.” He punched some numbers on the control board and the glitter vanished.
Seldon peered over the edge, down the deep shaft.
“You might find it better—or easier,” said Hummin, “if we link arms and if you close your eyes. It won’t take more than a few seconds.”
He gave Seldon no choice, actually. He took his arm and once again there was no hanging back in that firm grip. Hummin stepped into nothingness and Seldon (who heard himself, to his own embarrassment, emit a small squeak) shuffled off with a lurch.
He closed his eyes tightly and experienced no sense of falling, no feeling of air movement. A few seconds passed and he was pulled forward. He tripped slightly, caught his balance, and found himself on solid ground.
He opened his eyes. “Did we make it?”
Hummin said dryly, “We’re not dead,” then walked away, his grip forcing Seldon to follow.
“I mean, did we get to the right level?”
“Of course.”
“What would have happened if we were dropping down and someone else was moving upward?”
“There are two separate lanes. In one lane everyone drops at the same speed; in the other everyone rises at the same speed. The shaft clears only when there are no people within ten meters of each other. There is no chance of a collision if all works well.”
“I didn’t feel a thing.”
“Why should you? There was no acceleration. After the first tenth of a second, you were at constant speedand the air in your immediate vicinity was moving down with you at the same speed.”
“Marvelous.”
“Absolutely. But uneconomic. And there seems no great pressure to increase the efficiency of the procedure and make it worthwhile. Everywhere one hears the same refrain. ‘We can’t do it. It can’t be done.’ It applies to everything.” Hummin shrugged in obvious anger and said, “But we’re here at the taxi rental. Let’s get on with it.”
10
Seldon tried to look inconspicuous at the air-taxi rental terminus, which he found difficult. To look ostentatiously inconspicuous—to slink about, to turn his face away from all who passed, to study one of the vehicles overintently—was surely the way to invite attention. The way to behave was merely to assume an innocent normality.
But what was normality? He felt uncomfortable in his clothes. There were no pockets, so he had no place to put his hands. The two pouches, which dangled from his belt on either side, distracted him by hitting against him as he moved, so that he was continually thinking someone had nudged him.
He tried looking at women as they passed. They had no pouches, at least none dangling, but they carried little boxlike affairs that they occasionally clipped to one hip or another by some device he could not make out. It was probably pseudomagnetic, he decided. Their clothes were not particularly revealing, he noted regretfully, and not one had any sign of décolletage, although some dresses seemed to be designed to emphasize the buttocks.
Meanwhile, Hummin had been very businesslike, having presented the necessary credits and returned with the superconductive ceramic tile that would activate a specific air-taxi.
Hummin said, “Get in, Seldon,” gesturing to a small two-seated vehicle.
Seldon asked, “Did you have to sign your name, Hummin?”
“Of course not. They know me here and don’t stand on ceremony.”
“What do they think you’re doing?”
“They didn’t ask and I volunteered no information.” He inserted the tile and Seldon felt a slight vibration as the air-taxi came to life.
“We’re headed for D-7,” said Hummin, making conversation.
Seldon didn’t know what D-7 was, but he assumed it meant some route or other.
The air-taxi found its way past and around other ground-cars and finally moved onto a smooth upward-slanting track and gained speed. Then it lifted upward with a slight jolt.
Seldon, who had been automatically strapped in by a webbed restraint, felt himself pushed down into his
Seldon peered over the edge, down the deep shaft.
“You might find it better—or easier,” said Hummin, “if we link arms and if you close your eyes. It won’t take more than a few seconds.”
He gave Seldon no choice, actually. He took his arm and once again there was no hanging back in that firm grip. Hummin stepped into nothingness and Seldon (who heard himself, to his own embarrassment, emit a small squeak) shuffled off with a lurch.
He closed his eyes tightly and experienced no sense of falling, no feeling of air movement. A few seconds passed and he was pulled forward. He tripped slightly, caught his balance, and found himself on solid ground.
He opened his eyes. “Did we make it?”
Hummin said dryly, “We’re not dead,” then walked away, his grip forcing Seldon to follow.
“I mean, did we get to the right level?”
“Of course.”
“What would have happened if we were dropping down and someone else was moving upward?”
“There are two separate lanes. In one lane everyone drops at the same speed; in the other everyone rises at the same speed. The shaft clears only when there are no people within ten meters of each other. There is no chance of a collision if all works well.”
“I didn’t feel a thing.”
“Why should you? There was no acceleration. After the first tenth of a second, you were at constant speedand the air in your immediate vicinity was moving down with you at the same speed.”
“Marvelous.”
“Absolutely. But uneconomic. And there seems no great pressure to increase the efficiency of the procedure and make it worthwhile. Everywhere one hears the same refrain. ‘We can’t do it. It can’t be done.’ It applies to everything.” Hummin shrugged in obvious anger and said, “But we’re here at the taxi rental. Let’s get on with it.”
10
Seldon tried to look inconspicuous at the air-taxi rental terminus, which he found difficult. To look ostentatiously inconspicuous—to slink about, to turn his face away from all who passed, to study one of the vehicles overintently—was surely the way to invite attention. The way to behave was merely to assume an innocent normality.
But what was normality? He felt uncomfortable in his clothes. There were no pockets, so he had no place to put his hands. The two pouches, which dangled from his belt on either side, distracted him by hitting against him as he moved, so that he was continually thinking someone had nudged him.
He tried looking at women as they passed. They had no pouches, at least none dangling, but they carried little boxlike affairs that they occasionally clipped to one hip or another by some device he could not make out. It was probably pseudomagnetic, he decided. Their clothes were not particularly revealing, he noted regretfully, and not one had any sign of décolletage, although some dresses seemed to be designed to emphasize the buttocks.
Meanwhile, Hummin had been very businesslike, having presented the necessary credits and returned with the superconductive ceramic tile that would activate a specific air-taxi.
Hummin said, “Get in, Seldon,” gesturing to a small two-seated vehicle.
Seldon asked, “Did you have to sign your name, Hummin?”
“Of course not. They know me here and don’t stand on ceremony.”
“What do they think you’re doing?”
“They didn’t ask and I volunteered no information.” He inserted the tile and Seldon felt a slight vibration as the air-taxi came to life.
“We’re headed for D-7,” said Hummin, making conversation.
Seldon didn’t know what D-7 was, but he assumed it meant some route or other.
The air-taxi found its way past and around other ground-cars and finally moved onto a smooth upward-slanting track and gained speed. Then it lifted upward with a slight jolt.
Seldon, who had been automatically strapped in by a webbed restraint, felt himself pushed down into his
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