JК
The Lovers :: Фармер Филип Хосе
Страница: 20 из 127Five minutes later, he stepped off onto the sidewalkand walked into the cavernous entrance of Pali No. 16, University of Sigmen City.
Inside, he had to wait, though not for long, until the keeper had ushered him into the lift. Then, he went straight up on the express to the thirtieth level. Usually, when he got out of the lift, he went directly to his own office to deliver his first lecture of the day, an undergraduate course which went out over tridi. Today, Hal headed for the dean's office.
On the way, craving a cigarette and knowing that he could not smoke it in Olvegssen's presence, he stopped to light one and to breathe in the delicious ginseng smoke. He was standing outside the door of an elementary class in linguistics and could hear snatches of Keoni Jerahmeel Rasmussen's lecture.
'Puka and pali were originally words of the primitive Polynesian inhabitants of the Hawaiian Islands. The English-speaking people who later colonized the islands adopted many terms from the Hawaiian language; puka, meaning hole, tunnel, or cave, and pali, meaning cliff, were among the most popular.
'When the Hawaiian-Americans repopulated North America after the Apocalyptic War, these two terms were still being used in the original sense. But, about fifty years ago, the two words changed their meanings. Puka came to be applied to the small apartments allotted to the lower classes, obviously in a derogatory sense. Later, the term spread to the upper classes. However, if you are a hierach, you live in an apartment; if you belong to any class below the hierarchy, you live in a puka.
Pali, which meant cliff, was applied to the skyscrapers or to any huge building. It, unlike puka, also retains its original meaning.'
Hal finished his cigarette, dropped it in an ashtray, and walked on down the hall to the dean's office. There he found Doctor Bob Kafziel Olvegssen sitting behind his desk.
Olvegssen, the senior, spoke first, of course. He had a slight Icelandic accent.
'Aloha, Yarrow. And what are you doing here?'
'Shalom, abba. I beg your pardon for appearing before you without an invitation. But I had to arrange several matters before I left.'
Olvegssen, a gray-haired middle-aged man of seventy, frowned.
'Left?'
Hal took the letter from his suitcase and handed it to Olvegssen.
'You may process it yourself later, of course. But I can save you valuable time by telling you it's another order to make a linguistic investigation.'
'You just got back from one!' said Olvegssen.
Inside, he had to wait, though not for long, until the keeper had ushered him into the lift. Then, he went straight up on the express to the thirtieth level. Usually, when he got out of the lift, he went directly to his own office to deliver his first lecture of the day, an undergraduate course which went out over tridi. Today, Hal headed for the dean's office.
On the way, craving a cigarette and knowing that he could not smoke it in Olvegssen's presence, he stopped to light one and to breathe in the delicious ginseng smoke. He was standing outside the door of an elementary class in linguistics and could hear snatches of Keoni Jerahmeel Rasmussen's lecture.
'Puka and pali were originally words of the primitive Polynesian inhabitants of the Hawaiian Islands. The English-speaking people who later colonized the islands adopted many terms from the Hawaiian language; puka, meaning hole, tunnel, or cave, and pali, meaning cliff, were among the most popular.
'When the Hawaiian-Americans repopulated North America after the Apocalyptic War, these two terms were still being used in the original sense. But, about fifty years ago, the two words changed their meanings. Puka came to be applied to the small apartments allotted to the lower classes, obviously in a derogatory sense. Later, the term spread to the upper classes. However, if you are a hierach, you live in an apartment; if you belong to any class below the hierarchy, you live in a puka.
Pali, which meant cliff, was applied to the skyscrapers or to any huge building. It, unlike puka, also retains its original meaning.'
Hal finished his cigarette, dropped it in an ashtray, and walked on down the hall to the dean's office. There he found Doctor Bob Kafziel Olvegssen sitting behind his desk.
Olvegssen, the senior, spoke first, of course. He had a slight Icelandic accent.
'Aloha, Yarrow. And what are you doing here?'
'Shalom, abba. I beg your pardon for appearing before you without an invitation. But I had to arrange several matters before I left.'
Olvegssen, a gray-haired middle-aged man of seventy, frowned.
'Left?'
Hal took the letter from his suitcase and handed it to Olvegssen.
'You may process it yourself later, of course. But I can save you valuable time by telling you it's another order to make a linguistic investigation.'
'You just got back from one!' said Olvegssen.