"Asimov, Isaac - Robot City 05 - Refuge - Robert Chilson 1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

EAST ST. LOUIS SECTOR.

"What does the 'ST' mean?" Neither knew. "Derec, we're getting a long way from.., home-kitchen. Maybe we should turn around and go back." Derec wasn't happy about that either, but was reluctant to give up.

"Maybe one more try," he said.

He looked around for someone to ask, and was struck by the buildings in this new sector. They seemed industrial; blank fronts, a minimum of signs, a lot of which didn't even glow. All the color and gaiety seemed to have gone out of the City. Half the people on the ways had left in Old Town Sector, and no wonder.

Those who remained were far less prepossessing. They were poorly dressed and few wore hats, which meant, as Derec had gathered, that they had no passes for platform rides. Low ratings, like he and Ariel.

"What's that funny smell?" Ariel asked.

Derec sniffed, became aware of an odor. Not bread. "Something living. Maybe the ventilators don't work so good here."

"You mean we're smelling people?"

Derec felt a little sick himself at the thought. "Pardon me, sir, could you direct me to the spaceport?" he asked a sullen man.

"Buzz off, gato."

Seething, Derec waited for another prospect. A woman seized a seat on a platform with such an angry, triumphant expression that he crossed her off. Then a group of young men and women approached, four men and two women, the latter in gaudy, tight pants, the former all in brown corduroy. Derec repeated his question.

The first man looked at him sharply. "Whattaya tryina pull, gato? Spaceport! Spacer speech! Whod'ya thinkya are, huh?"

Clamping his jaw on his anger, Derec said, "I merely asked

"Oh, you merely ahsked, didja, haughty har? Whod'ya thinkya are, I asked you, gato."

"I just wanted--"

"Clamp down, haughty har, don't go gittin' high horse with me. Keep a civil tongue, and also a polite face, hear?" Seething, Derec fought for control, and another Earther spoke. He had a warm, dark-brown complexion and the eyes of a hawk: racial types had remained more distinct on Earth ╖ than on the Spacer worlds.

"Hey, Jake, I think he's rilly a Spacer. Both of'em. Lookit those ex fabrics."

He and Ariel were wearing plain shipsuits of synthetic fabric, a quiet, glossy substance in different shades of gray, hers lighter than his. Nobody had remarked on their clothes before, but nobody had looked closely at them.

Jake stared in amazed disbelief. "Naw!"

"Yeah, Jake," one of the women shrilled, looking closely at Ariel. "And look at 'em, both of 'em--tall and handsome, like. Spacers!"

"Spacers!" said Jake in almost reverent tones. His eyes sharpened. "I always wanted t'meet a Spacer. Just to tell'em what I think of 'em!"

"Yeah I"

"You think you're so smart, doin' your little social science investigation of 'Earther' society, huh, Spacer?" This time it sounded like a spit.

Derec's anger cooled in apprehension; Ariel had unobtrusively taken his arm. "Thanks for your help, but we've got to be going."

Again his accent aroused their are.