Beyond This Horizon Read Online Free PDF Page A

retreated from him. He pushed his face for a moment into the capillotomer. Shave completed, the booth sprayed him with scent and dusted him off. He was beginning to feel himself again.
    He tucked away a quarter litre of sweet-lemon juice and went to work seriously on the coffee before turning on the news roundup.
    The news contained nothing fit to be recorded permanently. No news, he thought, makes a happy country but a dull breakfast. The machine called out the plugs for a dozen stories while the accompanying flash pictures zipped past without Hamilton disturbing the setting. When he did so, it was not because the story was important, but because it concerned him. The announcer proclaimed “Diana’s Playground Opened to the Public!”; the flash panned from a crescent moon down to the brutal mountain surface and below to a gaily lighted artificial dream of paradise. Hamilton slapped the tell-me-more.
    “Leyburg, Luna. Diana’s Playground, long touted by its promoters as the greatest amusement enterprise ever undertaken off earth or on, was invaded by the first shipload of tourists at exactly twelve thirty-two, Earth Prime. These old eyes have seen many a pleasure city, but I was surprised! Biographers relate that Ley himself was fond of the gay spots—I’m going to keep one eye on his tomb while I’m here; he might show up—” Hamilton gave half an ear to the discourse, half an eye to the accompanying stereos, most of his attention to half a kilo of steak, rare.
    “—bewilderingly beautiful, weirdly sensuous low-gravity dancing.
    “The gaming rooms are thronged; the management may have to open annexes. Particularly popular are the machines offered by Lady Luck, Incorporated—Hamilton’s Hazards they are called by the trade. In fact—” The picture that went with the spiel did not show a throng in Hamilton’s estimation; he could almost feel the trouble the pick-up man had gone to in order to shoot favorable angles.
    “—round trip excursion tickets which entitle the holder to visit every place of amusement in the Playground, with three days hotel accommodations, strictly high-gravity, every room centrifuged.”
    He switched it off: and turned to the telephone. “Connection—one one one zero.”
    “Special service,” a husky contralto answered him presently.
    “Gimme the Moon, please.”
    “Certainly. To whom do you wish to speak, Mr.—uh, Hamilton?”
    “Hamilton is correct. I would like to talk to Blumenthal Peter. Try the manager’s office at Diana’s Playground.”
    There was a delay of several seconds before an image appeared on the screen. “Blumenthal speaking. That you, Felix? The image at this end is lousy. Ail streaked up with incidentals.”
    “Yeah, it’s me. I called to ask about the play, Pete…what’s the matter? Can’t you hear me?”
    The face of the image remained quiet for a long three seconds, then said suddenly, “Of course I can hear you. Don’t forget the lag.”
    Hamilton looked sheepish. He had forgotten the lag—he always did. He found it difficult to remember, when staring right into a man’s live features, that there would be a second and a half delay before that man—if on the Moon—could hear, another second and a half for his voice to travel back, three seconds lag in all. Three seconds lag seems inconsiderable but it is long enough to stride six paces, or fall forty-one metres.
    He was glad there was no phone service to the minor planets; it would be maddening to wait ten minutes or so between sentences—easier to stat a letter. “Sorry,” he said. “My mistake. How was the play? The crowds didn’t look so good.”
    “Naturally the crowd was light. One shipload isn’t Noah’s Ark. But the play was okay. They had plenty of scrip and were anxious to spend. We reported to your agent.”
    “Sure. I’ll get the report, but I wanted to know what gadgets were popular.”
    “ Lost Comet went strong. And so did Eclipses .”
    “How about Claiming Race