"C. L. Moore - Miracle in Three Dimensions" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore C. L)

except in metaphorsтАФthereтАЩs never been anything like it before.
тАЬRoughly, though, itтАЩs the projection of the illusion of life on a three-dimensional screen composed of
fogged light. Other men are just beginning to fumble around with the principles of three-dimensional
movies projected on a flat screen, giving the appearance of a stage with depth. ThatтАЩs going at it clumsily.
IтАЩve approached the problem from a much newer angle. My screen itself is three-dimensionalтАФthe light
that bathes you when the batteries of arcs are on. YouтАЩre in the midst of it, the action is projected on the
light all around you from double films taken from slightly different angles, on the stereoscopic principle.
IтАЩll show you later.
тАЬAnd there is in that bar youтАЩre to hold on to, sufficient current to stimulate very selectively the nerves
which carry tactile impression to the brain. YouтАЩll feel, as well as hear and see. YouтАЩll even smell. On
occasion you may actually tasteтАФitтАЩs close enough to the sensations of smelling to work out. Only that
doesnтАЩt figure so much in this case, for you as a spectator will not enter into the action. YouтАЩll simply
witness it from closer quarters than any audience has ever dreamed of doing before.
тАЬHere, step up on the platform and take hold of the rod there, at the curve. ThatтАЩs it. Now hold tight,
and donтАЩt be surprised. Remember, nothing like this has ever been done before. Ready?тАЭ
Abruptly the great banks of lights blazed into radiance that closed the dazzled Silvers about in soft,
pouring brightness. There was a quality of mistiness about it that made even his own hands invisible
before him on the bar. It was as if the light poured upon innumerable motes in the air, so refracting from
their infinitesimal surfaces that nothing was visible but that shimmer of bright blindness. Silvers gripped the
bar and waited.
Through the bright fog a voice as smooth as cream spoke in vast, clear echoes, rolling in from all
around him at once, filling the little artificial world of mist wherein he stood lost. Mellowly the deep tones
said:
тАЬYou are about to enter an enchanted wood outside Athens on a midsummer night, to share in a
dream that Shakespeare dreamed over three hundred years ago. Titania, Queen of Faeryland, will be
played by Anne Acton. Oberon, the King, is Philip GravesтАФтАЭ
Abe Silvers clutched the bar in amazement as that unctuous voice rolled on. Anne Acton and Philip
Graves were under contract to his own Metro-Cosmic, and every one of the other names were stars of
the first magnitude. The greatest actors of the day were playing in this incredible fragment of a
Midsummer NightтАЩs Dream. What it had cost OтАЩByrne he shuddered to think.
The creamy voice died away. The mist began to clear. SilversтАЩ hands closed hard on the bar and he
stared in blankest incredulity about the dim blue glades of forest stretching around him, silvery in the light
of a high-riding moon. A breeze whispered through the leaves, blowing cool on his face. Save that it did
not stir a hair of his head he could have believed it an actual breeze sighing through the moonlit dark.
He looked down. He was himself invisible, disembodied, no longer standing on a bare floor but in the
midst of a flowering meadow whose grasses were faintly fragrant at his feet. There was no flicker, no
visible light-and-shadow composition of the projection upon this incredible three-dimensional screen that
surrounded him. The glade stretched away into actual distances much deeper than the studioтАЩs walls
could possibly contain; the illusion of deep, starry sky overhead was perfect; the flowers in the grass
were so real he thought he could have knelt and gathered them in his hands.
Then, under the trees, the mists parted like a curtain and the Queen of Faeryland came splendidly into
the moonlit glade. Anne Acton had never looked so lovely. The long veil of her silver-pale hair streamed
like gossamer behind her, and every curve and shadowy roundness was as real as life itself. Yet there
hovered about her a hint of unreality, so that she blended perfectly the illusion of fantasy and reality as she
moved over the unbending grass, the bright wings streaming from her shoulders.


THERE was a blast of silvery challenge from elfin horns and into the moonlight strode Oberon, his
lean features wrathful. The famous deep tones of Philip Graves resounded angrily through the moonlight.
Titania answered in silvery defiance.