"Robert A. Heinlein - A tenderfoot in space (original version)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

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been five months since he had felt Earth gravity and the Hesperus
had maintained only one-third gravity in that outer part, where spin
was most felt. Consequently Charlie felt heavier than seemed right,
rather than lighter—his feet had forgotten full weight.
Nor did he notice the heavy concentration (about 2%) of carbon
dioxide in the air, on which Venus’s mighty jungles depended. It had
once been believed that so much carbon dioxide, breathed regularly,
would kill a man, but long before space flight, around 1950,
experiments had shown that even a higher concentration had no bad
effects. Charlie simply didn’t notice it.
All in all, he might have been waiting in a dreary, barracks-like
building in some tropical port on Earth. He did not see much of his
father, who was busy by telephone and by germproof conference
cage, conferring with his new employers and arranging for quarters,
nor did he see much of his mother; Mrs. Vaughn had found the long
trip difficult and was spending most of her time lying down.
Nine days after their arrival Charlie was sitting in the recreation room
of the reception center, disconsolately reading a book he had already
read on Earth. His father came in. “Come along.”
“Huh? What’s up?”
“They’re going to try to revive your dog. You want to be there, don’t
you? Or maybe you’d rather not? I can go. . . and come back and tell
you what happened.”
Charlie gulped. “I want to be there. Let’s go.”
The room was like the one back at White Sands where Nixie had
been put to sleep, except that in place of the table there was a cage-
like contraption with glass sides. A man was making adjustments on
a complex apparatus which stood next to the glass box and was
connected to it. He looked up. “Yes? We’re busy.”
“My name is Vaughn and this is my son Charlie. He’s the owner of
the dog.”
The man frowned. “Didn’t you get my message? I’m Doctor Zecker,
by the way. You’re too soon; we’re just bringing the dog up to
temperature.”
Mr. Vaughn said, “Wait here, Charlie,” crossed the room and spoke
in a low voice to Zecker.


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 Zecker shook his head. “Better wait outside.”
Mr. Vaughn again spoke quietly; Dr~ Zecker answered, “You don’t
understand. I don’t even have proper equipment—I’ve had to adapt
the force breather we use for hospital monkeys. It was never meant
for a dog.”
They argued in whispers for a few moments. They were interrupted
by an amplified voice from outside the room “Ready with ninety-
seven-X, Doctor—that’s the dog.”
Zecker called back, “Bring it in!”—then went on to Mr. Vaughn, “All
right—keep him out of the way. Though I still say he would be better