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Updated: June 10, 2025
Sore and shaken, he moved on down the walkway, his search now intensified by the need for wetness to soothe his injured flesh. He came upon a vat without vegetation and, at first joyous glance, thought it empty. Then, disappointment, a comparatively fresh body floated in it, just under the surface. It was the body of a man.
The household gentlemen, and their ladies. More guardsmen. There was a great burst of cheering; the news-service aircars got into position above the procession. Cousin Nikkolay and a few others stepped out from between the pillars into the sunlight; there was a similar movement at the other side of the terrace. The ducal party reached the end of the central walkway, halted and deployed.
He heaved himself over the edge onto the walkway with difficulty, and got slowly to his feet. Shadow lifted his feet out of the vat, stood up and vanished. Happy knew how Shadow was able to disappear so suddenly, and it did not disturb him. Seen directly from front or rear, Shadow had the dimensions of a normal, black-skinned man. But Shadow was flat, no thicker than half an inch.
Around corners, he came upon blubbery creatures like himself, tending the plants. They nodded greeting at him, and Happy nodded back. His search was discouraging. All the vats not filled with plants seemed to have corpses in them, in varying stages of decomposition. Around one corner, Happy came upon a Tough, lounging in the walkway.
As he began to turn in panic, Happy saw from the corner of his eye another Tough racing around the corner of the walkway to come upon him from behind. The Tough in front of him reached him and began pummeling him viciously with his fists, the hard fists sinking like painful hammers deep into Happy's flesh with every blow.
Then hands grasped his wrists. A white-haired man appeared on the other side of the parapet. He took a good, solid grip, and heaved. He drew Hoddan over the breast-high top of the wall and let him down to the walkway inside it. "A near thing, that!" said the white-haired man pleasantly. "I was taking a walk in the garden when I heard the excitement. I got to the wall-top just in time."
There was a walkway in the center of the street with room for a multitude. But only two men were in sight upon it. "Lord!" said Tommy. "Where are the people?" There was brief talk among the crew of the ornithopter. Two of them picked up Tommy's weapons, and the pilot he had wounded made a gesture indicating that he should follow. He led the way to an arched door in the nearest tower.
"Can you see Pittsburgh yet, Jim?" he called out. "Yes, it's a mess! Worse than Gary, worse than Akron even." "Monty! Come here! I think I have something!" Picking up the pipe he had laid down, Altamont hurried forward, dodging his six-foot length under the gun turret and swinging down from the walkway over the converter. "What is it?" he asked. "Smoke.
One of them is in that 'wheeled contraption'. It's called a therapeutic chair." "Oh? So the poor kid's been hurt. What's so interesting about that, aside from morbid curiosity?" The boy pushing the chair went around a bend in the walkway, out of sight, and Frobisher went back to his coffee while his wife spoke. "Their names are Mart and Bart. They're twins."
With no further talk I was marched through the station building, out the long approach walkway to the foot of Seventeenth Street, and so on up-town, the plain-clothes man keeping even step with me and indicating the course at the corner-turnings by a push or a wordless jerk of his head. As we went I was striving anxiously to invent a plausible story to be told at headquarters.
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