f the cabins were small, they were cleverly designed to
provide the maximum of comfort, even the least expensive of them. For
the very wealthy, the rulers of the galaxy's finance, the owners of the
galaxy's industries, the makers of the galaxy's entertainment, there
were the luxury cabins. The floors glowed with the soft reds of oriental
rugs, the lounge chairs were upholstered in fabrics gleaming with gold
thread. Cream-colored satin curtains fluttered in an artificial breeze
at the simulated windows, and on the walls hung tranquil landscapes in
dull gold frames. To those who had engaged them, the ornate cabins
seemed only appropriate to their own eminent positions in life.
Delicious meals were served three times a day in the several dining
rooms, the softly lighted Bar was never closed, and every day three
theaters offered a varied program of stereo-dramas. There was even--the
most marvelous, daring, expensive luxury of all--a swimming pool. The
pool was small, and was open only to the first cabin passengers, but the
fact that a ship travelling to a distant solar system could afford room
enough for a pool, and extra weight for the water needed to fill it,
seemed evidence that man had achieved a complete conquest of the
inconveniences of space travel.
One luxury, however, freely accessible to even the poorest sheep herder
on earth, was denied the passengers of the _Star Lord_.
They could not see the stars. They could not see the sky.
The ship had portholes, of course, and observation rooms which could be
opened if at any time she cruised in normal space, but the ports and
observation windows were closed now, for there was nothing to see. The
ship was surrounded by blackness, the impenetrable, unknowable
blackness, of hyperspace, but this black emptiness did not frighten the
passengers because they never bothered to think about it.
But the builders of the ship had designed it so that even the simple
pleasure of looking at a friendly sky should not be denied its
passengers. An artificial day and night of the appropriate length was
maintained by the dimming and brightening of lights, and the main
lounges were bounded with special walls which looked like windows,
through which could be glimpsed bright summer days, fleecy clouds
drifting over a blue sky, and, in the evenings, soft starlight.
* * * * *
Every passenger should have been soothed into contentment by these
devices, but
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