There is no cause to be alarmed. If you observe that breathing is
oppressive, the oxygen content of the air in this ship is well above
earth-level, and you will not need to breathe so deeply. Simply relax in
your chair. Everything has been thought of. Everything has been tested
repeatedly. You need not disturb yourself at all. Simply relax."
Silence. Two heart-beats. Three.
There was a roar. It was a deep, booming, numbing roar that came from
somewhere outside the rocket's hull. Simultaneously, something thrust
Cochrane deep into the foam-cushions of his contour-chair. He felt the
cushion piling up on all sides of his body so that it literally
surrounded him. It resisted the tendency of his arms and legs and
abdomen to flatten out and flow sidewise, to spread him in a thin layer
over the chair in which he rested.
He felt his cheeks dragged back. He was unduly conscious of the weight
of objects in his pockets. His stomach pressed hard against his
backbone. His sensations were those of someone being struck a hard,
prolonged blow all over his body.
It was so startling a sensation, though he'd read about it, that he
simply stayed still and blankly submitted to it.
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