For Us, the Living Page 11

  “Suppose it fell over water.”

  “The car will float. If you can start the rotor again, you can even take off again. I’ve done it with this one from Lake Tahoe. If you can’t take off, you can just sit there and wait to be rescued.”

  “Now tell me how to maneuver this baby.”

  “Turn the main control switch from ‘helix’ to ‘plane’. The wings come out,”—Sure enough, Perry saw them spread on each side—“and the screw starts. As it gathers speed, it drags more and more current, and the rotor slows down and stops and folds up. If you stop the screw by throwing the switch back, or if something happens to it, the rotor starts. The wings don’t retract until the rotor is maintaining lift. See, there goes the rotor.” The great vanes passed by, turning more slowly each revolution, finally stopped, folded back on each other like a Japanese fan, and disappeared. “We are flying now. If I pull back on the stick now the speed increases. When the air speed meter shows the speed I want I return the stick to vertical. If I pushed the stick forward the speed slows. If I slow to stalling speed before I reach it the rotor will start.”

  “How do you change direction?”

  “If you push the stick sideways, the car turns in the same direction. When you are on your new course you return the stick to vertical.”

  “Does that both bank and handle the rudder? Say, I didn’t see a rudder nor any other control surfaces. Why should it turn?”

  “There aren’t any control surfaces. The car is gyro stabilized. We rotate the car around the rigid reference frame of the gyros and let the screw push away in our new direction.”

  Perry nodded slowly. “That seems all right, except that she must side slip like the very devil on a turn.”

  “That’s right, Perry, but ordinarily it doesn’t matter. If you need to prevent it, you can turn past your new course and hold it there until the side slip is killed.”

  Perry’s face cleared. “Yes, I suppose so, but I would hate to try to fly a tight military formation in her.”

  “You couldn’t. This is a family model, for quiet people like me. It isn’t very fast and it’s as nearly foolproof and automatic as they can make it. They claim that if you can use a knife and fork you can fly a ‘Cloud House’.”

  “What speed does she make?”

  “I cruise her at about five hundred kilometers. I could make five hundred and fifty but there’s a nasty vibration at that speed. I may need a new propellor.” Perry whistled. “If that is a moderate speed for a family car, what’s the record these days?”

  “About three thousand. That is with rockets of course. But I don’t like a rocket ship. They make me nervous and they are devilish to handle. Give me my old-fashioned electric runabout. I’m in no hurry.”

  “Which reminds me. I gather this baby must be electric drive, but how?”

  “The rotor and the prop are driven by induction motors. The power comes from storage batteries. The gyros each have their own induction windings. They run all the time.”

  “Storage batteries—I should think they would be too heavy.”

  “These aren’t heavy for the power they store. They call ’em chlorophyll batteries because the principle involved is supposed to be similar to the photosynthesis of plants. But don’t ask me why. I’m a dancer, not a physicist. However there are some new models on the market that make their own electricity from coal.”

  “Directly?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t burn if that’s what you mean.”

  Perry slapped his thigh. “Edison was working on that when he died.”

  “Too bad he didn’t perfect it. We’ve had it only about ten years. See here, Perry, want to try the controls?”

  “Yes indeed. Wait a minute though. How do I change altitude when I’m in ‘plane’ combination.”

  “You can get as much as ten degrees dive or climb by changing this setting. It rotates the car about the horizontal gyro axis. You can use that when hovering with the rotor to keep from drifting in the wind, provided the wind isn’t more than seventy-five kilometers.”

  “In that case you could maneuver by rotor if you wanted to, couldn’t you.”

  “Yes, but it’s slow of course. Do you know what all your instruments mean?”

  “You keep an eye on the instruments. I’ll fly by ear for a while.” Perry took the car up a couple of thousand feet and cautiously put her through her paces. Presently when he had the feel of the controls he undertook to see what it would do. He soared and dropped, flew straight away and slewed her into sudden turns. He discovered that he could jamb her about one hundred and eighty degrees and stop her dead with the propeller. After this stunt Diana touched his arm:

  “Perry, if you knock off the propeller, we’ll have to go home on the rotor.” He looked crestfallen.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought anything she could do, she could handle.”

  “That is very nearly true. But my prop may be out of balance, you know. In any case the screw itself is a gyro and you were processing it on a rigid frame.”

  He set the controls at neutral and turned to her. “Diana, if you are a dancer and no physicist, how do you know so much about mechanics?”

  She looked surprised. “Any schoolgirl knows that much.”

  “I can see education has improved.” He returned to the controls and tried new stunts; stalling, changing combinations, maneuvering on the rotor. The flight brought them back near the canyon—‘Diana’s canyon’ as Perry regarded it—and the waterfall caught Perry’s eye. He lowered away cautiously and eased the craft slowly over toward the veil of water until they hovered halfway down and a hundred feet from the falls. They both sat in silent contemplation for several minutes until a shift in the wind forced Perry to return to the controls. He rose out of the canyon and settled down in level flight. Then he spoke. His voice was low and fervent. “Boy, but that fall is something!” He turned to Diana. “It’s nearly as beautiful as you are, Dian’.” She looked up and met his eyes for a moment, then dropped her lids, without replying. They were flying west. Presently Diana spoke.

  “Where are we going, Perry?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it. Where would you suggest?”

  “Would you like to see San Francisco?”

  “Fine!”

  “Then let me set the course.”

  “I can do it. I know this country.” He located the South Fork of the American River and followed it by eye until it joined the Sacramento River. Presently Diana got up and went to the rear of the car. When they were approaching Sacramento she announced lunch. “Can’t do,” answered Perry. “I’m coming into traffic.” She peered over his shoulder.

  “I’ll set the robot to circle Sacramento and pick up the San Francisco beam. You mustn’t fly in traffic until you have qualified in the rules. Now come to lunch.”

  Hot soup. Stuffed eggs and celery. Oatmeal cookies and grapes. Cold milk. When it was inside Perry felt no desire to move. He lay on his stomach with his head over the edge of the lazy bench and watched the ground slip by the deck port. Diana regarded him lazily. Presently the ground changed to water. “Coming into San Francisco!” he cried, jumped to his feet and seated himself in the bow.

  “Don’t touch the controls, Perry,” Diana cautioned. “They are on full automatic.” Perry didn’t answer for they were slicing across the bay bridge.

  “Dian’, is that the same bridge?”

  “I believe so.”

  Perry looked proud. “They had engineers in my day, too.”

  “Indeed they did.”

  “Why, there is the Ferry Building. Don’t tell me that has stood all these years.”

  “No, that is a replica. It’s a museum of California history.”

  “There’s Nob Hill! And the Fairmont Hotel.”

  “You’re right, but I don’t see how you recognized it. It’s only been there ten years.”

  “I can see how it’s not the same building. But it’s in the right place.” The car changed course an
d commenced leisurely to circle the city in a clockwise direction. Several other aircraft were in the same circle at the same speed.

  “The streets are decked over, aren’t they? What’s that moving under the glass decks?”

  “Those are the streets, with people traveling on them.”

  “But how? I don’t see any automobiles or other vehicles, yet they are going pretty fast.”

  “The streets move in strips. The strip nearest the buildings goes five kilometers an hour, then next ten and so on to the middle. Those have seats on them and travel forty kilometers.”

  “How about the end of the line?”

  “The end of the line? Oh, they travel in loops. If you stay on one you come back to where you started. The cross traffic is on a lower level, naturally. Shall we land, Perry?”

  His brow furrowed. “What do you think? I probably don’t know how to behave. Besides I can’t go into a city like this, can I?” He indicated his bare condition.

  “No real reason why you shouldn’t, except to avoid being conspicuous. But the public kit you bought yesterday is by you in the locker under the bench you are sitting on.” Diana dug it out, and gave it to him. Perry donned it. It consisted of a kilt of bright blue silk hung on a broad leather belt with pockets and hooks in it. A strap over one shoulder helped to support the belt. Slashes in the kilt were lined with bright silver stuff which glittered as he moved. The belt and strap were black with chromium fittings which matched his sandals. Diana surveyed him.

  “There. All set? Then I’ll land us.” Diana put the car down carefully through a maze of traffic onto a platform on Nob Hill. Before leaving the car she picked up a garment of her own and slipped it on. It was a Grecian tunic of black velvet, caught at the right shoulder with a jeweled silver clip. The right side hung open. The left shoulder and breast were bare. Perry whistled.

  “Dian’, you look perfectly gorgeous in that outfit, but in my home town they would toss us in jail and throw away the key.”

  “What for?”

  “Indecent exposure.”

  “How silly. Let’s go.”

  Diana received a check from the parking attendant, and they started for the stairs. It was cold on the platform. Perry felt goose flesh form on his chest and a sharp wind fluttered his kilt. Diana appeared not to mind. But it was warm in the stairway. As they rode to the street level Perry glanced at the other passengers. Apparently he and Diana were sufficiently clad. Most of the women wore as much as Diana, but several of them wore more provocative clothes. Passing the seventh level he noticed leaning in a doorway marked CORECTIV MASAJ a big Scandinavian girl clad only in a bored look. No one seemed to take special note of her. The men’s costumes were varied. Many of them wore coveralls of heavy cloth. These Perry judged to be mechanics from the platform. A goodly number were dressed much as Perry was. He noticed one old gentleman in a Roman toga, who read a newspaper as he rode. But in a moment they debarked at the street level and Perry was too busy to worry much about clothes. They were caught in a swirl of foot traffic at the landing which separated him from Diana. He felt a wave of panic as he looked for her and failed to find her. Then a little warm hand slipped into his and he heard her voice. “Let me hold your hand. I nearly got carried away.” He looked down at her face and knew that she was being diplomatic, but he didn’t care. He held her hand tightly.

  “What do you want to see, Perry?”

  “Gosh, I don’t know. Suppose you show me around a bit. If I think of anything, I’ll tell you.”

  “All right.” They proceeded along a wide corridor toward the street. The corridor was lined with brightly lighted little studio shops. Perry glanced at the displays as they walked. Most of the items seemed to be handcraft of various sorts, curios and beautiful things, some familiar in conception and use, some unintelligible. The Chinese, Japanese, and Indian shops seemed most familiar. In a few cases prices were marked. These seemed surprisingly high to him. He asked Diana about this.

  “Why, naturally they cost a lot, Perry. These things are handmade. They are worth whatever the artist asks for them, if you want them enough to pay his price. A lot of them are queer ducks though. If you appreciate something they have made and you can’t afford to buy it, they may just give it to you.”

  “But how can these hand workers compete with factory production?”

  “They don’t compete. Their work is for people who appreciate individual creation. The value of the things they make has nothing to do with the cost of the materials or the usefulness of the article. They are aesthetic values, that can’t be standardized.”

  “Suppose people won’t pay for an artist’s work?”

  “In that case he can do as he likes—either go on creating and keep the results or give them away—or stop and do something else.”

  “I didn’t make myself clear. How can he go on creating if people won’t buy?”

  “He lives on his heritage checks, or he works for pay part of the time and works at his art part of the time.”

  Perry fell silent. They passed a row of public visiphone booths and came out on Mason Street. Perry had his first view of traffic on the moving ways and was made a little giddy by the sight. The crowds of people in front of him all appeared to be pedestrians but they moved at various speeds, those furthest away moving the fastest. It reminded him of times when, on a dance floor, he had whirled with a light-footed partner and then stopped suddenly. He glanced back at the adjacent building to steady himself. Then he looked back at the street. The movements gradually ordered themselves in his mind. He saw that each moving strip was about eight feet wide. He counted six strips to the middle of the street. The last strip carried a continuous bench on its far side and facing him. People were seated on this bench, reading, talking, and watching the life around them. Between their heads Perry saw flashing past in the opposite direction the heads of the passengers on the other side of the street. Overhead the glass canopy stretched from side to side from the window level of the second story, perhaps twenty feet in the air. On his left a pedestrians foot bridge arched daintily over the ways. From beneath the moving ways came a whisper and purr of machinery. Diana squeezed his hand. “Want to go for a ride?”

  “Sure! Baby ride merry-go-round.” He started to step on the outer strip.

  “No, no, Perry! Face against the motion of the strip. And step on with the foot nearest the strip.” Perry safely negotiated the first strip. “Come on, Perry, off the edge of the strip. Get inside the red stripes at once. Otherwise you might interfere with someone changing speeds.”

  Perry looked down and saw that the center three feet of the strip was bounded by red stripes. Several people within earshot glanced toward them curiously at Diana’s words, but turned quickly away, except for one small urchin about six years old who surveyed Perry with a slow dispassionate stare. The next four strips were traversed without trouble and they settled down on the cushions of the bench. Diana smiled at him. “All right?”

  “Easy once you get the hang of it. Just Eliza crossing the ice.” Diana gurgled. He watched with interest the passengers around him. The urchin who had favored Perry with his attention was now staring at the opposite bound traffic with his nose pressed against the glass backboard which rose above the back cushion of the bench. His mother steadied him with one hand while she talked with another woman. The traffic was fairly heavy and Perry watched them come and go with interest. His eye was caught by a plumpish middle-aged woman in a striking purple and white robe. She carried in her arms a bright-eyed shaggy terrier who wiggled and attempted to get down. The woman was looking back over her shoulder and talking to a companion. She collided with a man moving off the fifth strip, lost her balance and sat down very suddenly on her broad posterior just at the joint between the fourth and fifth strips where she lay, shrieking, while she turned slowly round and around. The terrier bounded away and attained the sixth strip, where he ran up and down barking at the passengers on the bench. As his mistress passed slowly out of
sight, several other passengers helped her to her feet and brushed her off. Perry whistled to the dog, who acknowledged the overture by jumping to the bench beside him and applying a warm wet tongue to Perry’s chin and neck, “Down, boy, down! That’s enough.” Perry grabbed his collar. “Now what do we do? We’ve been joined.” He grinned. Diana rubbed the dog’s head. Then she got up from the bench.

  “Come along and bring your friend.” She moved quickly to the fifth strip, Perry close behind, then to the fourth and to the third. She stopped on the second. “We should see her soon.” Presently the purple and white robe showed up on the fourth strip. Diana, Perry, and the dog moved to the third and boarded the fourth as the woman came abreast. She swooped down on the dog.

  “Chou-chou! Did mama’s darling get lost? Was um fwightened?” She kissed its nose and hugged it. The dog wore an air of patient forbearance. “Thank the kind people, Chou-chou. They rescued you.” She turned to Perry and Diana. Diana gave him a sidewise glance and tugged his belt. They skipped onto the fifth strip and quickly over to the sixth. Diana sat down and sighed deeply.

  “Safe at last.” They sat for a while and watched the passing buildings. A few minutes later she pushed an elbow in his ribs. “Look over to your left.” She whispered. The purple and white robe was some yards away moving along the strip towards them. “I think she’s looking for us. Come along. Here’s where we get off.” They threaded quickly through the crowd toward the outer strip and were shortly on the stationary walk. “That was close.”

  “Why was she looking for us?”

  “Maybe she wasn’t, but I took no chances. I can’t stand to be slobbered over.”

  “What do we do now?” They were standing by the entrance of a large squat building of synthetic marble. Over the entrance Perry read UNITED STATS POST OFIS, Tub Stashon A. Diana followed his glance.