Suspense. Good television!"
Jamison let the throat-mike back against his skin. The roaring of the
rockets would affect it only as his throat vibrated from the sound. It
would register, even so.
"I see," said Jamison above the rocket-thunder, "forests of giant trees
like the sequoias of Mother Earth. I see rushing rivers, foaming along
their rocky beds, taking their rise in glaciers. We are still too high
to look for living creatures, but we descend swiftly. Now we are level
with the highest of the mountains. Now we descend below their smoking
tops. Under us there is a vast valley, miles wide, leagues long. Here a
city could be built. Over it looms a gigantic mountain-spur, capped with
green. One would expect a castle to be built there."
He raised his eyebrows at Cochrane. They were well in atmosphere, now,
and it had been an obvious defect--condition--necessity of the Dabney
field that both of its plates should be in a vacuum. One was certainly
in air now. But Cochrane made that gesture which in television
production-practice informs the actors that time to cutting is measured
in tens of seconds, and he held up two fingers.
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