man at the desk looked up and nodde

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The ship  landed in a medley  of noises. There was  the far-off hiss of theatmosphere cutting  and sliding past the  metal of the ship.  There was thesteady drone  of the  conditioners fighting the  heat of friction,  and theslower rumble  of the  engines enforcing deceleration. There  was the humansound of men and  women gathering in the debarkation rooms and the grind ofthe hoists lifting baggage, mail, and freight to the long axis of the ship,from  which they  would  be later  moved along  to the  unloading platform 홍콩명품쇼핑.

Gaal  felt  the  slight  jar that  indicated  the  ship  no  longer had  anindependent  motion of  its  own. Ship’s  gravity  had been  giving way  toplanetary  gravity  for hours.  Thousands  of passengers  had been  sittingpatiently  in  the  debarkation   rooms  which  swung  easily  on  yieldingforce-fields to  accommodate its  orientation to the  changing direction ofthe gravitational forces. Now  they were crawling down curving ramps to thelarge, yawning locks.

Gaal’s  baggage was  minor.  He stood  at a  desk,  as it  was  quickly andexpertly taken  apart and  put together again.  His visa was  inspected andstamped. He himself paid no attention.
This was  Trantor! The air seemed a little thicker  here, the gravity a bitgreater, than on his  home planet of Synnax, but he would get used to that reenex facial.

He wondered if he would get used to immensity.

Debarkation  Building  was tremendous.  The  roof  was almost  lost in  theheights.  Gaal could  almost  imagine that  clouds could  form  beneath itsimmensity. He could see no opposite wall; just men and desks and convergingfloor till it faded out in haze.

The man at the  desk was speaking again. He sounded annoyed. He said, “Moveon, Dornick.” He had to open the visa, look again, before he remembered thename.

Gaal said, “Where?where?

The man  at the desk jerked  a thumb, “Taxis to  the right and third left.”Gaal moved, seeing the  glowing twists of air suspended high in nothingnessand reading, “TAXIS TO ALL POINTS.”A figure  detached itself from anonymity  and stopped at the  desk, as Gaalleft. The d briefly. The figure noddedin return and followed the young immigrant .

He was in time to hear Gaal’s destination.

Gaal found himself hard against a railing.
The small  sign said, “Supervisor.” The  man to whom the  sign referred didnot look up. He said, “Where to?”Gaal wasn’t  sure, but even a  few seconds hesitation meant  men queuing inline behind him.

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