James P. Hogan Read Online Free
Author: Endgame Enigma
discouraging. Somehow it always had the effect of opening her up more. She’d wondered if it was a result of gumshoe training.
“The rest of the world runs on deception and manipulation – what else can you say?” she’d answered. “It’s what people perceive and believe that matters. Whether or not the perceptions and beliefs happen to be true has nothing to do with it. What matters is that everyone buys the product, votes the right way, and behaves themselves. I don’t know who I blame most – cynical leaders, or the gullible people who listen to them. The irony of it all is that I should end up here, working for this outfit.” Yet, here she was.
On another occasion, while they were having lunch together in one of the Pentagon’s cafeterias during the three-week preparation period after they were selected, she had said, “You see, the whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts.”
“Who said that?” Earnshaw had asked.
“Bertrand Russell.” She’d waited a moment while he thought it over. “A philosopher.”
“Philosopher, eh?”
“Sometime back in the last century.”
“Just like that?”
“What do you mean, ‘just like that’?”
“That’s how he said it, just like that?”
“I guess so.”
Earnshaw had eyed her skeptically, then asked, “So how come he didn’t put ‘I think’ at the end of it?”
The pressure of the seat against her back increased as the transporter came round and decelerated into its stern-first final approach. The image on the screen had enlarged noticeably. Then the view cut to a close-up of the central part of the hub structure with its array of communications antennas, and the docking port’s outer doors swinging open to admit the ship. The sight of the bay inside loomed larger, ablaze with arc lamps, provoking a twinge of nervousness inside her. Her second mistake, she decided, had been to go ahead and think about it after she’d promised to.
A quarter of an hour later, the passengers collected their coats, bags, and other belongings, and exited through the forward door, moving awkwardly and using handrails for assistance in the low-gravity conditions near Tereshkova ’s axis. They emerged onto a carpeted ramp, where smiling attendants in gray uniforms were waiting to usher them through to the reception lounge.
CHAPTER THREE
“Dobro pozalovat v Valentinu Tereshkovu,” the Russian official said when they came to the front of the short line at one of the reception booths. There had been a baggage check when they transferred from the surface shuttle in Earth orbit. He peered at their badges and switched to English. “Welcome to Valentina Tereshkova.” Earnshaw handed him their two document holders. The Russian extracted a plastic card from Paula’s, passed it through a reader, checked the information and picture that appeared on a screen in front of him, and entered a code into a keyboard. Then he repeated the process with the other folder. “Ms. Shelmer and Mr. Earnshaw, both from Pacific News Services, Los Angeles, California.” He studied the screen again for a moment. “Yes, these are correct. What is the purpose of your visit?” His tone was one of personal curiosity rather than of officialdom.
“Special coverage for a consortium of West Coast agencies,” Paula replied. “We’ve scheduled a number of special-feature items on this for the next few weeks.”
“I see. Well, we must be sure to take good care of you. Can’t afford any bad publicity, eh? I’m sure that Americans know all about that.” The Russian passed across two preprepared ID badges in red frames. “Wear these at all times for your own convenience and safety, and remain within the designated visitor zones, which are clearly indicated. The stewards wearing red armbands are at your service if you have questions or need assistance.” He indicated the camera and other equipment
“The rest of the world runs on deception and manipulation – what else can you say?” she’d answered. “It’s what people perceive and believe that matters. Whether or not the perceptions and beliefs happen to be true has nothing to do with it. What matters is that everyone buys the product, votes the right way, and behaves themselves. I don’t know who I blame most – cynical leaders, or the gullible people who listen to them. The irony of it all is that I should end up here, working for this outfit.” Yet, here she was.
On another occasion, while they were having lunch together in one of the Pentagon’s cafeterias during the three-week preparation period after they were selected, she had said, “You see, the whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts.”
“Who said that?” Earnshaw had asked.
“Bertrand Russell.” She’d waited a moment while he thought it over. “A philosopher.”
“Philosopher, eh?”
“Sometime back in the last century.”
“Just like that?”
“What do you mean, ‘just like that’?”
“That’s how he said it, just like that?”
“I guess so.”
Earnshaw had eyed her skeptically, then asked, “So how come he didn’t put ‘I think’ at the end of it?”
The pressure of the seat against her back increased as the transporter came round and decelerated into its stern-first final approach. The image on the screen had enlarged noticeably. Then the view cut to a close-up of the central part of the hub structure with its array of communications antennas, and the docking port’s outer doors swinging open to admit the ship. The sight of the bay inside loomed larger, ablaze with arc lamps, provoking a twinge of nervousness inside her. Her second mistake, she decided, had been to go ahead and think about it after she’d promised to.
A quarter of an hour later, the passengers collected their coats, bags, and other belongings, and exited through the forward door, moving awkwardly and using handrails for assistance in the low-gravity conditions near Tereshkova ’s axis. They emerged onto a carpeted ramp, where smiling attendants in gray uniforms were waiting to usher them through to the reception lounge.
CHAPTER THREE
“Dobro pozalovat v Valentinu Tereshkovu,” the Russian official said when they came to the front of the short line at one of the reception booths. There had been a baggage check when they transferred from the surface shuttle in Earth orbit. He peered at their badges and switched to English. “Welcome to Valentina Tereshkova.” Earnshaw handed him their two document holders. The Russian extracted a plastic card from Paula’s, passed it through a reader, checked the information and picture that appeared on a screen in front of him, and entered a code into a keyboard. Then he repeated the process with the other folder. “Ms. Shelmer and Mr. Earnshaw, both from Pacific News Services, Los Angeles, California.” He studied the screen again for a moment. “Yes, these are correct. What is the purpose of your visit?” His tone was one of personal curiosity rather than of officialdom.
“Special coverage for a consortium of West Coast agencies,” Paula replied. “We’ve scheduled a number of special-feature items on this for the next few weeks.”
“I see. Well, we must be sure to take good care of you. Can’t afford any bad publicity, eh? I’m sure that Americans know all about that.” The Russian passed across two preprepared ID badges in red frames. “Wear these at all times for your own convenience and safety, and remain within the designated visitor zones, which are clearly indicated. The stewards wearing red armbands are at your service if you have questions or need assistance.” He indicated the camera and other equipment
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