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They found that masculine guardedness and laziness went well together. They ate themselves full. Like Mitch Storey had once done, they all started hydroponic gardens inside their bubbs. In the pleasant, steamy sun-warmth of those stellene interiors, they bounced back and forth from elastic wall to elastic wall, with gravity temporarily at zero because they had stopped the spin of their bubbs.
Plumbing, and such luxuries, apparently hadn't existed for years except for the small cistern and worn water-recovery plant in the basement, beside the tired-looking weeds in the hydroponic tanks that tried unsuccessfully to keep the air breathable. "What about a lock on the door?" Gordon asked. "What good would it do you? Got a different way here, we have.
"Yes, a prisoner who wasn't sent down to the vats, but is kept on the upper floor. This prisoner is a black-haired, black-eyed woman." "Maya!" "Yes, I think the visitor is Nuwell Eli and the prisoner is your friend, Maya." Nuwell Eli sat with Placer Viceroy, director of the Canfell Hydroponic Farm, in its large underground dining room, eating lunch.
As from a punctured balloon, the pressured atmosphere of the entire Canfell Hydroponic Farm rushed after it, roaring up the ramp, in a moment stripping the vats, the upper level and the north building. Caught in the tornadic blast, Dark could only cling to a bolted-down cot with one hand, and hold onto Maya around the waist with the other.
Seems most of our "guests" part with information easier if they have something like the locally made hydroponic potato schnapps inside them for courage. "You drink Baldur honey-rum, don't you, Bish?" he said, pawing among the bottles in the liquor cabinet next to the refrigerator. "I'm sure I have a bottle of it. Now wait a minute; it's here somewhere."
By this time, I'd gotten the jeep around the dredger we'd come to the end of the nuclear-power plant buildings and cut off into open country. That is to say, nothing but pillar-buildings two hundred yards apart and piles of bagged mineral nutrients for the hydroponic farms.
There's nothing left for us to do but walk, I'm afraid, Maya." "Back to the hydroponic farm?" "No, we've come too far. By my chart, we're not far from Ultra Vires. I think we'd better try to make it for the night, and if Goat left his radio equipment in working order we'll call for help. If not, the only thing I know to do is to head for Ophir." Ultra Vires Maya remembered it with a shudder.
And he was buying all the air-and-water recycling equipment, and all the carniculture and hydroponic equipment, he could get." That was something to know. He thanked the Space Viking, and then asked: "Did he know, at the time, that I'm out here hunting for him?" "If he did, nobody else on Jagannath did. I didn't hear about it, myself, till six months afterward."
It isn't prettifying. It's psychology. The Platform was designed by engineers and physicists and people with slide rules. They made a beautiful environment for machinery. But there will be men living in it, and they aren't machines." "I don't see " "They designed the hydroponic garden," said Sally with a certain scorn.
The others unloaded Dark's coffin and moved with it back toward the building. Nuwell and Maya climbed back into the copter, and shortly they were airborne again and the buildings of the Canfell Hydroponic Farm were receding behind and below them. Nuwell guided the copter almost straight westward now. It passed over Candor and buzzed out over the broad Xanthe Desert. And here trouble developed.
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