"C M Kornbluth - Make Mine Mars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kornbluth C M)

I fell into an eastbound chair and fumbled a quarter



into the slot The thin, cold air of the pressure dome was



clearing my head already. I was sorry for all the times Fd



I cussed a skinflint dome administration for not supplying a richer air mix or heating the outdoors more
lavishly. I felt

food enough to shave, and luckily had my razor in my wallet. By the time the chair was gliding past the
building where Interstellar News had a floor, I had the whiskers off my jaw and most of the sawdust out
of my hair.
The floater took me up to our floor while I tried not to think of what McGillicuddy would have to say.



The newsroom was full of noise as usual. McGillicuddy vu in the copydesk slot chewing his way through
a pile of dpatches due to be filed on the pressure dome split for A.M.



тАвewscasts in four minutes by the big wall clock. He fed his copy, without looking, to an operator
battering the keys of fte old-fashioned radioteletype that was good enough to serve



тАвor local clients.



"Two minutes short!" he yelled at one of the men on the "Gimme a brightener! Gimme a god-damned
bright-'P* The rim man raced to the receiving ethertypes from rCammadion, Betelgeuse, and the other
Interstellar bureaus. Be yanked an item from one of the clicking machines and



тАвcaJed it at McGillicuddy, who slashed at it with his pencil and passed it to the operator. The tape the
operator was cooing started through the transmitter-distributor, and on all local clients' radioteletypes
appeared: