" Perry Rhodan 0050 - (42) Time's Lonely One" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

Rico replied, totally unmoved as only a machine could be: "Only 69 years, Master. I received the
command impulse exactly 36 hours, 3 minutes and 18 seconds ago."

Therefore this time it had required 36 hours to rouse me from the death-like bio-deep-sleep.

"Too long, much too long," my brain signalled. Then I asked myself what tiny error could have caused
the time switch to miss one year. It probably was my fault. Everything had had to be done in such a hurry
at the time of the atomic skullduggery up there.

A mechanical speaker blared and it startled me anew. The clock faded from the videoscreen. The
picture-tape had served its purpose. People like me at the moment of reawakening needed acoustic and
visual images from the timebefore the beginning of the biomedical sleep process. Now I remembered that
I had the foresight to put the prepared tape into the automatic timer myself.

JobтАЩs revolting guffaws had been helpful. Otherwise I wouldnтАЩt have recovered so quickly.

RicoтАЩs round plastic head appeared in my view. He was one of 4 robots that had been specially
designed for the supervision and maintenance of the shelter machinery. His flair for speech was a bit of
positronic tomfoolery, using his ultra-rapid evaluation components which transformed mathematical
results into intelligible sounds. It also served as a means to stimulate my slowly responding senses. I
simply had to talk to somebody, even if it was only a machine. RicoтАЩs vocabulary was rather limited.

The activation shower which was remote-controlled by the central brain had been rolled to the right side
of my couch. The small chamber resembled a modern operating room except for the absence of
surgeons. The biochemical stimulants which activated my body cells were either injected or radiated in
various forms. My head was still enclosed in the glistening hood of the frequency generator which had
transmitted my first sensory impressions.

I lay still for an hour and reflected on the reasons which led me to go into the deep sleep.

RightтАФ69 years ago those in the responsible positions of the major power blocs had lost their nerves. I
had sought refuge in my deep-sea shelter when the first atomic rockets were launched. Apparently I had
barely managed to escape the senseless destruction. But what had happened to the great mass of people
on the continents of Earth? The thought about the fate of the billions of people was too grim to be
pondered coldly and soberly. All I could think of was that I probably was now the last human being on
Earth.

"Human being!" I laughed bitterly.

Rico came quickly closer. If his mechanical eyes could profess concern, they did it now.

I remained motionless and enjoyed the touch of the multiple-armed massage machine treating me with
soft plastic hands. This kneading of my muscles was a must if I wanted to gain control of my body again.

It took a few more hours before I was able to rise from my couch. Pressurized air hissed through the tiny
pores of the couchтАЩs foam and the depressions my body had created in 69 years were smoothed out
again.
 Naked and still weak from the emotional turmoil, I was led out of the sleeping room by Rico. Outside in
the pleasantly furnished antechamber the colour organ was in operation, flooding the walls with soothing
wave patterns. The gentle strains of an old musical composition induced a comforting feeling in me.