"Asimov, Isaac - 1. Foundation" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

millennium of the Empire, the monotonously numerous revolts made Emperor after
Emperor conscious of this, and Imperial policy became little more than the
protection of Trantor's delicate jugular vein....
ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA
Gaal was not certain whether the sun shone, or, for that matter, whether it was
day or night. He was ashamed to ask. All the planet seemed to live beneath
metal. The meal of which he had just partaken had been labelled luncheon, but
there were many planets which lived a standard timescale that took no account of
the perhaps inconvenient alternation of day and night. The rate of planetary
turnings differed, and he did not know that of Trantor.
At first, he had eagerly followed the signs to the "Sun Room" and found it but a
chamber for basking in artificial radiation. He lingered a moment or two, then
returned to the Luxor's main lobby.
He said to the room clerk, "Where can I buy a ticket for a planetary tour?"
"Right here."
"When will it start?"
"You just missed it. Another one tomorrow. Buy a ticket now and we'll reserve a
place for you."
"Oh." Tomorrow would be too late. He would have to be at the University
tomorrow. He said, "There wouldn't be an observation tower Ц or something? I
mean, in the open air."
"Sure! Sell you a ticket for that, if you want. Better let me check if it's
raining or not." He closed a contact at his elbow and read the flowing letters
that raced across a frosted screen. Gaal read with him.
The room clerk said, "Good weather. Come to think of it, I do believe it's the
dry season now." He added, conversationally, "I don't bother with the outside
myself. The last time I was in the open was three years ago. You see it once,
you know and that's all there is to it. Here's your ticket. Special elevator in
the rear. It's marked 'To the Tower.' Just take it."
The elevator was of the new sort that ran by gravitic repulsion. Gaal entered
and others flowed in behind him. The operator closed a contact. For a moment,
Gaal felt suspended in space as gravity switched to zero, and then he had weight
again in small measure as the elevator accelerated upward. Deceleration followed
and his feet left the floor. He squawked against his will.
The operator called out, "Tuck your feet under the railing. Can't you read the
sign?"
The others had done so. They were smiling at him as he madly and vainly tried to
clamber back down the wall. Their shoes pressed upward against the chromium of
the railings that stretched across the floor in parallels set two feet apart. He
had noticed those railings on entering and had ignored them.
Then a hand reached out and pulled him down.
He gasped his thanks as the elevator came to a halt.
He stepped out upon an open terrace bathed in a white brilliance that hurl his
eyes. The man, whose helping hand he had just now been the recipient of, was
immediately behind him.
The man said, kindly, "Plenty of seats."
Gaal closed his mouth; he had been gaping; and said, "It certainly seems so." He
started for them automatically, then stopped.
He said, "If you don't mind, I'll just stop a moment at the railing. I Ц I want
to look a bit."