despatched by Captain Strider to guide the new arrivals to their cabins."
Strauss-Giolitto spared the bot no more than a glance. Although technical manuals and holos had described the interior of the Santa Maria to her, the direct experience was as startling as the outside had been. Almost the entirety of the vast space was empty. In the distance, near the craft's stern, she could perceive a small cluster of hut-like structures: from here, about a kilometer away, they looked almost as if they were made of wood, though she knew this had to be an illusion—textured and colored plastite was much lighter and tougher than wood. Still, she liked the fact that the craft's designers had taken the trouble to create that illusion. It made the bizarre space within the Santa Maria seem humanized. Overhead a long daylight-simulator ran the length of the vessel; it had been set to Earth-standard, which like most people who had spent much of their lives on Mars she found offensively bright. The ship's floor was covered in fields of yellow and bright green grain; here and there were groves of fruit-trees. Overhead, right up by the edges of the daylight-simulator, she could see the markings for further fields. For the first part of its voyage the Santa Maria would be set into latitudinal revolution, so that the direction of "down" would be towards the exterior of the craft as the spin simulated gravity. Thereafter, once it started accelerating out of the Solar System, the spin would be stopped and the fields would be swivelled out from the hull to form several layers of "landscape." The cabins where she and the others would sleep and spend their leisure time would likewise swivel. Several elevators, currently useless, ran the length of the vessel. The system was unlikely to work perfectly: agribots would ply endlessly to return topsoil from the craft's stern to the fields where it properly belonged.
Small clouds hovered beside the Santa Maria 's huge daylight-simulator.
It was an imposing sight.
The colors, for example. Colors on Mars were always fairly muted—even the orange-red of the plains was restful in the glimmer of the sunlight. Inside the Santa Maria , with its Earth-standard daylight-simulator, greens and yellows were violent, vibrant colors.
She supposed she'd get used to it.
Lan Yi had finished his rather embarrassing reunion with the bot, and was introducing it to her.
"This is Pinocchio. He plays a very good game of chess."
"Yeah. How do you do, Pinocchio?" said Strauss-Giolitto. It seemed odd to be introduced to a goddam machine. (She must stop blaspheming, even in her thoughts.) "Pleased to meet you."
She shook hands formally with the bot.
"And I am pleased to meet you too, Ms"—again there was that disconcerting buzzing noise—"Strauss-Giolitto. We have not met before, but I recognize you from the data which the Main Computer has supplied me concerning your facial features."
"You're too kind," said Strauss-Giolitto sarcastically.
"Thank you," said Pinocchio, with no apparent irony. "Now may I guide you to your cabins? There is a further pair of personnel due to arrive in"—his head hummed—"four hours and forty-four minutes."
Two-thirds of the Great Beast, thought Strauss-Giolitto, following Lan Yi and the bot.
They went along a path that could have been in Mongolia, where Strauss-Giolitto had spent her childhood, although her mother and grandmother had always fiercely reminded her that her roots lay in Greater Yugoslavia. Through the hedges Strauss-Giolitto could hear the thrum of insects. Every now and then a gap in the bushery offered her a view of endless ears of grain; the only difference from Mongolia was that the heads weren't moving. Above her some kind of raptor soared close to the clouds. The inside of the Santa Maria was Earth's ecosystem, done in miniature.
An animal that she didn't recognize scuttled across the path in front of them. It seemed to be covered in stiff, bony needles. Its hindlegs
Strauss-Giolitto spared the bot no more than a glance. Although technical manuals and holos had described the interior of the Santa Maria to her, the direct experience was as startling as the outside had been. Almost the entirety of the vast space was empty. In the distance, near the craft's stern, she could perceive a small cluster of hut-like structures: from here, about a kilometer away, they looked almost as if they were made of wood, though she knew this had to be an illusion—textured and colored plastite was much lighter and tougher than wood. Still, she liked the fact that the craft's designers had taken the trouble to create that illusion. It made the bizarre space within the Santa Maria seem humanized. Overhead a long daylight-simulator ran the length of the vessel; it had been set to Earth-standard, which like most people who had spent much of their lives on Mars she found offensively bright. The ship's floor was covered in fields of yellow and bright green grain; here and there were groves of fruit-trees. Overhead, right up by the edges of the daylight-simulator, she could see the markings for further fields. For the first part of its voyage the Santa Maria would be set into latitudinal revolution, so that the direction of "down" would be towards the exterior of the craft as the spin simulated gravity. Thereafter, once it started accelerating out of the Solar System, the spin would be stopped and the fields would be swivelled out from the hull to form several layers of "landscape." The cabins where she and the others would sleep and spend their leisure time would likewise swivel. Several elevators, currently useless, ran the length of the vessel. The system was unlikely to work perfectly: agribots would ply endlessly to return topsoil from the craft's stern to the fields where it properly belonged.
Small clouds hovered beside the Santa Maria 's huge daylight-simulator.
It was an imposing sight.
The colors, for example. Colors on Mars were always fairly muted—even the orange-red of the plains was restful in the glimmer of the sunlight. Inside the Santa Maria , with its Earth-standard daylight-simulator, greens and yellows were violent, vibrant colors.
She supposed she'd get used to it.
Lan Yi had finished his rather embarrassing reunion with the bot, and was introducing it to her.
"This is Pinocchio. He plays a very good game of chess."
"Yeah. How do you do, Pinocchio?" said Strauss-Giolitto. It seemed odd to be introduced to a goddam machine. (She must stop blaspheming, even in her thoughts.) "Pleased to meet you."
She shook hands formally with the bot.
"And I am pleased to meet you too, Ms"—again there was that disconcerting buzzing noise—"Strauss-Giolitto. We have not met before, but I recognize you from the data which the Main Computer has supplied me concerning your facial features."
"You're too kind," said Strauss-Giolitto sarcastically.
"Thank you," said Pinocchio, with no apparent irony. "Now may I guide you to your cabins? There is a further pair of personnel due to arrive in"—his head hummed—"four hours and forty-four minutes."
Two-thirds of the Great Beast, thought Strauss-Giolitto, following Lan Yi and the bot.
They went along a path that could have been in Mongolia, where Strauss-Giolitto had spent her childhood, although her mother and grandmother had always fiercely reminded her that her roots lay in Greater Yugoslavia. Through the hedges Strauss-Giolitto could hear the thrum of insects. Every now and then a gap in the bushery offered her a view of endless ears of grain; the only difference from Mongolia was that the heads weren't moving. Above her some kind of raptor soared close to the clouds. The inside of the Santa Maria was Earth's ecosystem, done in miniature.
An animal that she didn't recognize scuttled across the path in front of them. It seemed to be covered in stiff, bony needles. Its hindlegs
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