Free Norton, Andre - Anthology by Gates to Tomorrow (v1.0)

know why we change the rate of
air flow or charge the air. I once did, but I've long since forgotten."
     
                   "In a general way," he said,
answering the question, it might be said that moist air is depressing and
enervating, while dry air is tonic and stimulating. Metabolism slows in warm
air, speeds up in cool air. It is also known that air motion is a factor of
tremendous importance in ventilation in that it contributes to our sense of
well-being and comfort. The pat of a current of air upon the skin stimulates
the cutaneous sensory fibers, acts directly on metabolism and the vasomotor
system.
                   "Air currents as low as
three-hundredths meter per second will give a perceptible stimulus to the
sensory nerves around the skin and mouth. The variation of air flow and
temperature is stimulating and explains the preference of open windows over
mechanical systems of air conditioning. This variation is why there is no
sensation of stuffiness in modern ships.
                   "We treat the air here so that it has an
ionic content of ten to the sixth per cc of negative ions. Positive ions
increase the respiratory rate, B.M.R., and blood pressure. Negative ions
produce a feeling of exhilaration and sublime health. I'd recommend we increase
our temperature by five or six degrees, slow down air motion, and require all
men not actually needed to remain in their bunks. Of course all exercise, smoking, even loud talking will have to be
forbidden. I'll change the diet so we'll have a low specific dynamic action,
use less oxygen that way. Make the men more groggy ,
too. We can string out our oxygen another ten days."
                   "And after that?"
                   " 'Good spacemen
never die,' " he quoted a line from the song of the space corps softly,
" 'they just travel far.' "
                   "Will it be bad toward the end?"
                   The doctor looked down at his polished nails.
"Very," he whispered, "We'll gasp out our last breath hating the
day we were born. It'll not be easy because we'll have so long to know it's coming."
                   "In fifteen days I'll have the crew write
their final letters. I want to write one to my mother, and you'll want to write
one to your fiancee. You were going to marry when we earthed."
                   "Isn't there a chance we might cross
another ship?"
                   "There isn't a ship for another three
months at least."
                   "Well, we won't be around to see
it." Stacker forced a thin laugh. "When the end comes, Bickford will
really be happy. But he could have done a lot worse things if he'd had more
time to think about them. But this will be bad enough."
                   Nord looked at him steadily. "You'll
spare us a bad finale."
                   "You mean, you
actually want me to ... to . . ." He stopped talking abruptly, looking at
the captain with narrowed eyes.
                  Nord knew the doctor did not wish to make him
commit himself. He lifted his head, gaze steady, and his voice was like the
muffled roll of an organ. "Mercy," he said, "can only be the
gift of the strong."
                   Stacker stood up, held out his hand.
"Will you tell me when you've set the dead lights?"
                   Nord nodded. "I'll turn them on myself
and call you." Abruptly they shook hands.
                   "And the condemned, thanks to the
psychopath, ate a hearty meal."
                   Nord realized the inevitableness of their
situation. He had an evanescent desire to go to the brig ward and wreathe
Bickford in a flame pistol, but he realized, even as he thought it, how stupid
an act it would be. It would be like trying to take revenge on nature. The
psychopath was nothing more or less than an evolutionary attempt to make man
learn to use his brain for the