[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
and he left a trail of skin before he could jerk away. He peered up and
around.
The dumbwaiter system operated in a long slot between gray walls, an area
illuminated only by light from the feeder openings. He could make out many
carriers moving swiftly upward around him and there was an acrid fruit smell
overriding the other stinks. He passed more openings, glimpsed a startled
face at one -- a woman carrying a basket piled high with yellow fruit that
looked like tiny pumpkins. Janvert peered upward, trying to find out how the
system terminated. Did it
disgorge into chopping machinery? Was there a bloody mincer arrangement up
there, a sorting system, or conveyors?
A wide line of light was becoming visible far above him and he could hear the
increasing roar of machinery up there. It drowned out the whistling,
clanking, hissing of the conveyor he was riding.
The wide line of light was nearer -- nearer -- he tensed himself and was
caught by surprise as a trip system tipped his shelf at the top of the lift,
dumping him into a bin piled high with yellow carrots.
Clutching the bin's top with his left hand, Janvert righted himself, clambered
over the edge into a room of long, waist-high troughs that flowed with
bubbling pulp of many colors. Workers moved all through the area dumping bins
of produce into the troughs.
It was easily six feet to the floor and Janvert landed with a slippery
squishing that sent him lurching into a female who had come up to the conveyor
outlet with an empty bin on wheels. Janvert's momentum sent her sprawling.
He kept her down with a burst from his weapon, charged forward, slipping and
skidding. There was pulped tomato on his feet and the floor itself carried a
skimming of multicolored debris from the processing that continued all around
him.
He passed another group before reaching a doorway, but their food-spattered
appearance differed little from his and they paid no attention to him.
Janvert plunged through the door, was hit by a cold shock of water spraying
from overhead nozzles. He gasped, splashing through the water, and was almost
clean when he emerged on the far side through another door into a wide, dimly
lighted tunnel. Water was draining off him, off the captured weapon in his
hand, collecting in a puddle under him, but there were similar puddles all
around.
Janvert glanced left -- the long vista of a tunnel down there, but few people
and none of them appeared interested in him. He looked to his right, saw a
spidery stairway similar to the one at the underground river. The stairs went
Page 204
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
upward into gloom and that was his direction. Janvert turned, slogged toward
the stairs, began climbing, drawing himself up by sliding his left hand on the
rail and pulling. His mouth was hanging open with fatigue and the aftermath
of that shocking shower.
At the fifth rung on the stairs, he saw legs appear at the top. He fired his
weapon without pausing, kept it humming as he climbed the remaining steps.
Five sprawled figures lay on a platform where the stairs ended. He limped
around them, his gaze fastened on a door beyond them. The door had only a bar
latch which he lifted. The hinges were on the inside to the right. He pulled
the bar. The door creaked open, revealing a dank dirt passage and the
upthrusting roots of a tree stump that the door's movement had pushed outward
and down. Janvert dragged himself past the stump into starlit darkness, heard
the door creaking closed behind him. The stump tipped back into its
concealing position with only a faint thump.
Janvert stood shivering in cold night air.
It took him a moment to realize that he had escaped from Hellstrom's madhouse
human hive. He peered upward: stars. No doubt of it -- he was outside. But
where? The starlight gave him few clues to his surroundings. He could see a
faint suggestion of trees directly ahead. He groped for the stump that masked
the exit. His fingers encountered a hard surface which a fingernail told him
was real wood. His eyes were adjusting, though, and escape from the tunnels
had tapped a source of energy he hadn't known existed. There was a faint glow
in the sky slightly to his left and he guessed that would be Fosterville. He
tried to recall the distance. Ten miles? His overworked [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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and he left a trail of skin before he could jerk away. He peered up and
around.
The dumbwaiter system operated in a long slot between gray walls, an area
illuminated only by light from the feeder openings. He could make out many
carriers moving swiftly upward around him and there was an acrid fruit smell
overriding the other stinks. He passed more openings, glimpsed a startled
face at one -- a woman carrying a basket piled high with yellow fruit that
looked like tiny pumpkins. Janvert peered upward, trying to find out how the
system terminated. Did it
disgorge into chopping machinery? Was there a bloody mincer arrangement up
there, a sorting system, or conveyors?
A wide line of light was becoming visible far above him and he could hear the
increasing roar of machinery up there. It drowned out the whistling,
clanking, hissing of the conveyor he was riding.
The wide line of light was nearer -- nearer -- he tensed himself and was
caught by surprise as a trip system tipped his shelf at the top of the lift,
dumping him into a bin piled high with yellow carrots.
Clutching the bin's top with his left hand, Janvert righted himself, clambered
over the edge into a room of long, waist-high troughs that flowed with
bubbling pulp of many colors. Workers moved all through the area dumping bins
of produce into the troughs.
It was easily six feet to the floor and Janvert landed with a slippery
squishing that sent him lurching into a female who had come up to the conveyor
outlet with an empty bin on wheels. Janvert's momentum sent her sprawling.
He kept her down with a burst from his weapon, charged forward, slipping and
skidding. There was pulped tomato on his feet and the floor itself carried a
skimming of multicolored debris from the processing that continued all around
him.
He passed another group before reaching a doorway, but their food-spattered
appearance differed little from his and they paid no attention to him.
Janvert plunged through the door, was hit by a cold shock of water spraying
from overhead nozzles. He gasped, splashing through the water, and was almost
clean when he emerged on the far side through another door into a wide, dimly
lighted tunnel. Water was draining off him, off the captured weapon in his
hand, collecting in a puddle under him, but there were similar puddles all
around.
Janvert glanced left -- the long vista of a tunnel down there, but few people
and none of them appeared interested in him. He looked to his right, saw a
spidery stairway similar to the one at the underground river. The stairs went
Page 204
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
upward into gloom and that was his direction. Janvert turned, slogged toward
the stairs, began climbing, drawing himself up by sliding his left hand on the
rail and pulling. His mouth was hanging open with fatigue and the aftermath
of that shocking shower.
At the fifth rung on the stairs, he saw legs appear at the top. He fired his
weapon without pausing, kept it humming as he climbed the remaining steps.
Five sprawled figures lay on a platform where the stairs ended. He limped
around them, his gaze fastened on a door beyond them. The door had only a bar
latch which he lifted. The hinges were on the inside to the right. He pulled
the bar. The door creaked open, revealing a dank dirt passage and the
upthrusting roots of a tree stump that the door's movement had pushed outward
and down. Janvert dragged himself past the stump into starlit darkness, heard
the door creaking closed behind him. The stump tipped back into its
concealing position with only a faint thump.
Janvert stood shivering in cold night air.
It took him a moment to realize that he had escaped from Hellstrom's madhouse
human hive. He peered upward: stars. No doubt of it -- he was outside. But
where? The starlight gave him few clues to his surroundings. He could see a
faint suggestion of trees directly ahead. He groped for the stump that masked
the exit. His fingers encountered a hard surface which a fingernail told him
was real wood. His eyes were adjusting, though, and escape from the tunnels
had tapped a source of energy he hadn't known existed. There was a faint glow
in the sky slightly to his left and he guessed that would be Fosterville. He
tried to recall the distance. Ten miles? His overworked [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]