"What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet."

Shakespeare byl veliký básník.

Jak pravil jan Werich, jen málo podobných pravd můžete říct kdekoli na světě, aniž by vás tam či onde povožovali za někho, kdo přichází odtamdud.

1. Na capse je k dispozici soubor s různými verzemi českého překladu jediného Shakesperova sonetu. Vyberte si tu, která se vám subjektivně nejvíce zamlouvá, nejvíc vás oslovuje - a zauvažujte proč. Případně se pár řádek naučte nazpaměť, budete překvapeni, jaké nové rozměry textu při tom objevíte.

2. Přečtěte si úryvek z Hamleta a zauvažujte, jak byste přeložili označené repliky. Nezapomeňte, že se jedná o jevištní dílo - myslete na to, aby herci mohli text přirozeně deklamovat.

Hamlet
Alas, poor ghost!

Ghost
Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.

HAMLET
Speak; I am bound to hear.

Ghost
So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.

HAMLET
What?

Ghost
I am thy father's spirit,
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
And for the day confined to fast in fires,
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!
If thou didst ever thy dear father love--

HAMLET
O God!

Ghost
Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.


Pár profesionálních překladů:
Josef Jiří Kolár, 1855
Hamlet. Duchu ubohý!
Duch. Mne nelituj, jen k tomu naklon sluch,
Co objevím.
Hamlet. Jsemt povinen te slyšet – mluv!
Duch. A povinen i mstít, když vyslyšíš.
Hamlet. A co?
Duch. Jsemt otce tvého duch,
Na cas odsouzen ku obcházce nocní,
A za dne vezen v ohni, až zlé hríchy
Za živa spáchané ve mne se stráví
A vyčistí. – Ó kdybych směl vyprávět
O tajných mukách svého vezení,
Nejmenší slovo té povídky by
Podrylo duši tvou, mladistvá krev
By v tobe zledovatela, tvé oci
Jak hvezdy z kruhu svých se vymknuly,
Tvé husté kadere rozptýlily,
A jeden každý vlas by vzhuru cnel
Jak bodliny zlostného ježovce.
Ten popis vecnosti však nehodí se
Pro ucho z masa, krve. – Slyš mne, slyš!
Jestlis kdy otce svého miloval –
Hamlet. Ó nebesa!
Duch. Ó pomstiž jeho príkrou, hnusnou vraždu!
Hamlet. Vraždu? –
Duch. Ba hnusnou vraždu, neb to každá jest;
Ta má však neprirozená a nejhnusnejší.



František Nevrla
Hamlet. Ó, duchu, běda!
Duch. Nelituj mne; však vážně vyslechni,
co chci ti sdělit.
Hamlet. Promluv; dám si pozor.
Duch. Však také pomsti, co ti oznámím.
Hamlet. A co?
Duch. Já duch jsem tvého otce;
jsem odsouzen, bych na čas v noci bloudil
a ve dne podroben byl stálé výhni,
než splatím zločiny, které jsem spáchal
v svém žití. Kdyby nevázal mne slib
nezradit tajnost mého vězení,
promluvil bych, že každé slůvko duši
by zděsilo ti, zmrazilo ti krev,
zrak z důlků vystoupil by ti až k hvězdám,
zmatek by rozvířil ti kadeře,
že každý vlas by rozježil se v hrůze,
jak ostny divokého zvířete.
Však toto prohlášení o věčnosti
není pro lidský sluch! Ó, slyš, ó, slyš!
Jestliže měls kdy svého otce rád –
Hamlet. Ó, nebesa!
Duch. – pak pomsti jeho neslýchanou vraždu!
Hamlet. Co, vraždu?
Duch. Je každá vražda hrozná, tato však
je hnusná, děsná, nepřirozená.

Slovo a hudba

Mluvená řeč má vždy jistý rytmus, pravidelnost, která ji činí lépe srozumitelnou. Překladatelé to vědí a rádi toho využívají - jak v přímé řeči, tak v různých hříčkách, narážkách... a samozřejmě v překladech básnických a písňových textů, kde je rytmus často důležitější než rým.

1. Dokážete najít v textu přízvučné slabiky? Nejsnazší to bývá u písňových textů - přízvuk textu se obvykle shoduje s přízvukem hudebním.
Zkopírujte si následující text do Wordu a barevně vyznačte přízvučné slabiky.

A
Hoj ty štědrý večere,
ty tajemný svátku,
cože komu dobrého
neseš na památku?

B
Znám křišťálovou studánku
kde nejhlubší je les
tam roste tmavé kapradí
a vůkol rudý vřes.

C
Byl pozdní večer, první máj,
večerní máj byl lásky čas
hrdliččin zval ku lásce hlas
kde borový zaváněl háj.

2. Srovnejte český a anglický text téže písně:
Krutá válka
Cruel war

3. Vyberte si jednu z následujících písní a napište k ní český text. Respektujte hudbu, zejména shodu hudebních a slovních přízvuků; obsah textu je jen na vás a nemusí s originálem vůbec souviset. Pokuste se výsledný text zazpívat!
Nahrávky všech tří skladeb jsou na capse.

Na překlad máte dva týdny, 25.10.se podíváme na pracovní verze - ty nemusíte vkládat na blog, jen je přineste na výuku. Hotový překlad vložte na blog do středy 2.11.2011.

Scarborough Fair
Simon + Garfunkel

Are you going to Scarborough Fair
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
(On the side of a hill in the deep forest green)
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
(Tracing of sparrow on snowcrested brown)
Without no seams nor needle work
(Blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain)
Then she'll be a true love of mine
(Sleeps unaware of the clarion call)

Tell her to find me an acre of land
(On the side of a hill a sprinkling of leaves)
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
(Washes the grave with silvery tears)
Between the salt water and the sea strands
(A soldier cleans and polishes a gun)
Then she'll be a true love of mine

Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather
(War bellows blazing in scarlet battalions)
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
(Generals order their soldiers to kill)
And gather it all in a bunch of heather
(And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten)
Then she'll be a true love of mine

Are you going to Scarborough Fair
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
 
Gangsta's Paradise
Coolio

(Spoken)
You want to tell me what this is all about?

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I take a look at my life and realize there's not much left
Cause I've been blastin' and laughin so long that
Even my ma'ma thinks that my mind is gone
But I ain't never crossed a man that didn't deserve it
Me, be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
You better watch how you talkin, and where you walkin
Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk
I really hate to trip, but I gotta loc'-
As they grew I see myself in the pistol smoke, fool
I'm the kinda G the little homies wanna be like
On my knees in the night
Sayin prayers in the street light


Been spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise
Been spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise
Keep spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise
Keep spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise


They got the situation, they got me facin'
I can't live a normal life, I was raised by the strip
So I gotta be down with the hood team
Too much television watchin' got me chasin' dreams
I'm an educated fool with money on my mind
Got my ten in my hand and a gleam in my eye
I'm a loc'ed out gangsta, set-trippin banger
And my homies is down, so don't arouse my anger, fool
Death ain't nuthin but a heart beat away
I'm livin life do-or-die-a, what can I say?
I'm twenty-three now, but will I live to see twenty-fow'?
The way things are goin' I don't know


Tell me why are we, so blind to see
That the ones we hurt, are you and me

Been spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise
Been spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise
Keep spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise
Keep spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise



Power and the money, money and the power
Minute after minute, hour after hour
Everybody's runnin, but half of them ain't lookin
What's goin on in the kitchen, but I dont know what's cookin
They say I got ta learn, but nobody's here to teach me,
If they cant understand it, how can they reach me?
I guess they can't; I guess they won't
I guess they front; that's why I know my life is outta luck, fool!


Been spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise
Been spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise
Keep spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise
Keep spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise

Tell me why are we, so blind to see
That the ones we hurt, are you and me
Tell me why are we, so blind to see
That the ones we hurt, are you and me
 
Boat on the River
Styx

Take me down to my boat on the river
I need to go down, I need to come down
Take me back to my boat on the river
And I won't cry out any more
Time stands still as I gaze In her waters
She eases me down, touching me gently
With the waters that flow past my boat on the river
So I won't cry out anymore

Oh the river is deep
The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand
And all roads lead to Tranquillity Base
Where the frown on my face disappears
Take me back to my boat on the river
And I won't cry out anymore

Oh the river is wide
The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand
And all roads lead to Tranquillity Base
Where the frown on my face disappears
Take me back to my boat on the river
And I won't cry out anymore
And I won't cry out anymore
And I won't cry out anymore

Synonyma

Absolutní synonymie sice neexistuje, ovšem právě ta relativní nám poskytuje široké spektrum vyjadřovacích možností v nejrůznějších stylových rovinách.
Důležité ovšem je stylové roviny nemíchat - hlavně ne v promluvě jedné postavy!

Synonymické slovníky - online zdroje:
http://slovniky.lingea.cz/
http://www.slovnik-synonym.cz/
http://www.synonyma-online.cz/

1. Porovnejte výsledky svého pátrání po synonymech; vyberte dva výrazy z pěti, na kterých jste pracovali, a celý soubor synonym V POŘADÍ OD NEJVULGÁRNĚJŠÍHO PO NEJKNIŽNĚJŠÍ vložte do komentáře k tomuto blogu.

Some ideas HERE

2. V dvojicích vzájemně zhodnoťte své překlady textu Agathy Christie. Zaměřte se na jazykovou správnost (včetně interpunkce!) a na zachování stylové roviny - zejména v promluvách jednotlivých postav. Připomeňte si jejich charakteristiku z minulé hodiny.

Texty odevzdané v pondělí s návrhy oprav najdete na konci dnešní hodiny ve formátu .doc v Capse.

V říši nemejského lva

Agatha Christie patří mezi mistry detektivkářského jazyka a zejména konverzace; sbírka povídek "Herkulovské úkoly Hercula Poirota" (The Labours of Hercules, 1947) je toho zajisté dokladem.

1. Přečtěte si nejprve celou povídku - je k dispozici v úložišti http://prekladani.capsa.cz. Zaměřte se zejména na děj předcházející ukázce.
2. Pokuste se v duchu o charakteristiku promlouvajících osob z následující ukázky určené k překladu, najděte v jejich řeči typické jazykové prostředky a uvažujte, jak je přeložit. Nakolik se jejich řeč vzájemně liší? Nakolik odráží jejich společenské postavení a povahu?
3. Představte si jednotlivé postavy (věk, oblečení, gestkulace...) pomoci může i filmová ukázka, například TATO.
4. Přeložte část textu vyznačenou tučně a vložte svůj překlad do komentáře k tomuto blogu. (Tuto část jsme probrali v hodině.)
5. Přeložte celou ukázku. Vložte svůj překlad do komentáře k tomuto blogu do 10.10. 20:00.



Prémiová otázka: Název tohoto příspěvku je inspirován jistým literárním a historickým kontextem. Jakým?

--------------------

"But surely. Sir Joseph, the proper thing (and a very much more inexpensive thing) would have been to send for the police ?"
Sir Joseph rubbed his nose. He said: "Are you married, Mr. Poirot ?"
"Alas," said Poirot, "I have not that felicity."
"H'm," said Sir Joseph. "Don't know about felicity, but if you were, you'd know that women are funny creatures. My wife went into hysterics at the mere mention of the police — she'd got it into her head that something would happen to her precious Shan Tung if I went to them. She wouldn't hear of the idea—and I may say she doesn't take very kindly to the idea of your being called in. But I stood firm there and at last she gave way. But, mind you, she doesn't like it."
Hercule Poirot murmured: "The position is, I perceive, a delicate one. It would be as well, perhaps, if I were to interview Madame your wife and gain further particulars from her whilst at the same time reassuring her as to the future safety of her dog ?
Sir Joseph nodded and rose to his feet. He said: "I'll take you along in the car right away.

In a large, hot, ornately-furnished drawingroom two women were sitting. As Sir Joseph and Hercule Poirot entered, a small Pekinese dog rushed forward, barking furiously, and circling dangerously round Poirot's ankles.
"Shan -- Shan, come here. Come here to mother, lovey-- Pick him up. Miss Carnaby."
The second woman hurried forward and Hercule Poirot murmured: "A veritable lion, indeed."
Rather breathlessly Shan Tung's captor agreed.
"Yes, indeed, he's such a good watchdog. He's not frightened of anything or any one. There's a lovely boy, then.
Having performed the necessary introduction, Sir Joseph said: "Well, Mr. Poirot, I'll leave you to get on with it," and with a short nod he left the room.
Lady Hoggin was a stout, petulantlooking woman with dyed henna red hair. Her companion, the fluttering Miss Carnaby, was a plump, amiable-looking creature between forty and fifty. She treated Lady Hoggin with great deference and was clearly frightened to death of her.
Poirot said: "Now tell me. Lady Hoggin, the full circumstances of this abominable crime."
Lady Hoggin flushed. "I'm very glad to hear you say that, Mr.
Poirot. For it was a crime. Pekinese are terribly sensitive -- just as sensitive as children. Poor Shan Tung might have died of fright if of nothing else.
Miss Carnaby chimed in breathlessly: "Yes, it was wicked -- wicked!"
"Please tell me the facts."
"Well, it was like this. Shan Tung was out for his walk in the Park with Miss Camaby -- "
"Oh dear me, yes, it was all my fault," chimed in the companion. "How could I have been so stupid -- so careless -- "
Lady Hoggin said acidly: "I don't want to reproach you. Miss Carnaby, but I do think you might have been more alert."
Poirot transferred his gaze to the companion. "What happened?"
Miss Carnaby burst into voluble and slightly flustered speech.
"Well, it was the most extraordinary thing! We had just been along the flower walk -- Shan Tung was on the lead, of course -- he'd had his little run on the grass -- and I was just about to turn and go home when my attention was caught by a baby in a pram -- such a lovely baby - it smiled at me -- lovely rosy cheeks and such curls. I couldn't just resist speaking to the nurse in charge and asking how old it was -- seventeen months, she said – and I'm sure I was only speaking to her for about a minute or two, and then suddenly I looked down and Shan wasn't there any more. The lead had been cut right through -- "
Lady Hoggin said: "If you'd been paying proper attention to your duties, nobody could have sneaked up and cut that lead.

První pokus

MacLean, Alistair - When Eight Bells Toll

Philip Calvert stealthily slips aboard the Nantesville. What has happened to the agents he planted on board? A chilly encounter with two broken backed men soon answers that one.

Millions of pounds of gold bullion are being pirated in the Irish Sea. With deadly efficiency. A sixth sense brings Philip Calvert to a bleak, lonely bay in the Western Highlands. But the sleepy atmosphere of Torbay is deceptive. The place is the focal point of many mysterious disappearances. Even the dour, unimaginative Highland Police Sergeant seems to be acting a part. Why?
-------------------------------

Jak se zdařil první pokus?
Které problémy jste objevili?

-------------------------------
1. Připomeňte si děj románu Charlese Dickense Oliver Twist.
fulltext například ZDE
S jakými problémy se můžeme při překladu střetnout?

2. Přelože následující ukázku (pouze části vyznačené tučně):

The schoolroom was a pretty large hall, on the quietest side of the
house, confronted by the stately stare of some half-dozen of the great
urns, and commanding a peep of an old secluded garden belonging to the
Doctor, where the peaches were ripening on the sunny south wall. There
were two great aloes, in tubs, on the turf outside the windows; the
broad hard leaves of which plant (looking as if they were made of
painted tin) have ever since, by association, been symbolical to me
of silence and retirement. About five-and-twenty boys were studiously
engaged at their books when we went in, but they rose to give the Doctor
good morning, and remained standing when they saw Mr. Wickfield and me.

'A new boy, young gentlemen,' said the Doctor; 'Trotwood Copperfield.'

One Adams, who was the head-boy, then stepped out of his place and
welcomed me. He looked like a young clergyman, in his white cravat, but
he was very affable and good-humoured; and he showed me my place, and
presented me to the masters, in a gentlemanly way that would have put me
at my ease, if anything could.

It seemed to me so long, however, since I had been among such boys,
or among any companions of my own age, except Mick Walker and Mealy
Potatoes, that I felt as strange as ever I have done in my life. I was
so conscious of having passed through scenes of which they could have
no knowledge, and of having acquired experiences foreign to my age,
appearance, and condition as one of them, that I half believed it was an
imposture to come there as an ordinary little schoolboy. I had become,
in the Murdstone and Grinby time, however short or long it may have
been, so unused to the sports and games of boys, that I knew I was
awkward and inexperienced in the commonest things belonging to them.
Whatever I had learnt, had so slipped away from me in the sordid cares
of my life from day to night, that now, when I was examined about what
I knew, I knew nothing, and was put into the lowest form of the school.
But, troubled as I was, by my want of boyish skill, and of book-learning
too, I was made infinitely more uncomfortable by the consideration,
that, in what I did know, I was much farther removed from my companions
than in what I did not. My mind ran upon what they would think, if they
knew of my familiar acquaintance with the King's Bench Prison? Was there
anything about me which would reveal my proceedings in connexion with
the Micawber family--all those pawnings, and sellings, and suppers--in
spite of myself? Suppose some of the boys had seen me coming through
Canterbury, wayworn and ragged, and should find me out? What would they
say, who made so light of money, if they could know how I had scraped my
halfpence together, for the purchase of my daily saveloy and beer, or
my slices of pudding? How would it affect them, who were so innocent of
London life, and London streets, to discover how knowing I was (and was
ashamed to be) in some of the meanest phases of both? All this ran in
my head so much, on that first day at Doctor Strong's, that I felt
distrustful of my slightest look and gesture; shrunk within myself
whensoever I was approached by one of my new schoolfellows; and hurried
off the minute school was over, afraid of committing myself in my
response to any friendly notice or advance.

We'll Always Have Paris

Ray Bradbury byl díky Marťanské kronice řazen spíše mezi autory science fiction; méně už byly nás známé jeho povídky. Teprve v poslední době (v rozmezí cca 10 let) u nás vyšla celá řada povídkových sbírek tohoto autora, včetně těch úplně nejnovějších.

1. Použijte uvedené reference a přečtěte si pečlivě nejprve jednu Bradburyho povídku. Pokuste se charakterizovat jeho autorský styl. Své názory vkládejte do komentáře k tomuto blogu.

2. Ve dvojici (můžete samozřejmě pracovat i individuálně, rozhodnutí je na vás) se dohodněte, kterou ze tří nabízených povídek:
The Thing at the Top of the Stairs - horor,
Laffyete, Farewell - válečná,
nebo The Twilight Greens - psychologická
budete společně překládat. Minimální rozsah překladu je 4 normostrany, nemusíte tedy odevzdat celou povídku - vyberte si vždy tu část textu, která je nejdramatičtější.

3. Povídku si nejprve pečlivě přečtěte, pak vytvořte skupiny dvojic, které pracují se stejným textem, a podělte se o první dojmy. Pokuste se identifikovat hlavní překladatelské problémy.

4. Prémiová otázka - proč se jedna Bradburyho sbírka jmenuje právě "We'll Always Have Paris"?

Browse the book "We'll Always Have Paris" online

Šest povídek je k dispozici v capse (omluvte sníženou kvalitu scanu).

Další včetně pokusů o překlad a diskuse najdete ZDE.

Tipy pro překládání:
- absolutní respekt k autorově textu (slovní zásoba i syntax)
- nevysvětlovat nejasné, neinterpretovat
- sledovat prostředky, které evokují emoce, a používat je v přeloženém textu stejnou měrou jako v originále

Vědeckofantastická literatura

...neboli sci-fi má své kořeny už v 19. století u Julese Verna - a je až překvapivé, jak často se technické vize a sny mění v realitu.
Sci-fi dvacátého století utvářela trojice anglosaských autorů: Asimov, Clarke a Bradbury. Každý z nich měl svlj nenapodobitelný styl a preferoval jiný pohled na neznámo vesmíru a lidské budoucnosti; nejtechničtějším typem z nich byl bezesporu A.C.Clarke. Jeho znalosti přírodních věd i smysl pro nadsázku a vědeckou recesi dávaly vzniknout dílům, která se dnes považují za součást klasické literatury. Některé z jeho vizí se změnily v seriózní vědecké projekty, které byly ještě za jeho života realizovány (např. síť komunikačních satelitů, dolární plachetnice, iontový pohon kosmických lodí).
Kniha "A Fall of Moondust" vyšla PŘED prvním přistáním lidí na Měsíci - a přece se i dnes ukazuje, že Clarke, vedený geniální intuicí i hlubokými znalostmi, dokázal naprosto přesně popsat chování vražedného měsíčního prachu.


1. Seznamte se s dějovou osnovou knihy. Originál textu je k dispozici v capse.
2. Přečtěte si zvolna a pečlivě následující ukázku, pokuste se vžít do děje (problém, emoce, řešení...)
3. Přeložte dva úseky textu, tučně vyznačené v následující ukázce. Pečlivě si ověřujte význam slovíček, pátrejte po neologismech i po skutečných technických termínech (těch bude podstatně více!)


"For the benefit of the newcomers," said Lawrence, when the roll call had been completed, "I'll brief you on the situation. Selene is fifteen meters down, on a level keel. She's undamaged, with all her equipment functioning, and the twenty two people inside her are still in good spirits. They have enough oxygen for ninety hours--that's the deadline we have to keep in mind.
"For those of you who don't know what Selene looks like, here's a one-in-twenty scale model." He lifted the model from the table, and turned it slowly in front of the camera. "She's just like a bus, or a small aircraft; the only thing unique is her propulsion system, which employs these wide-bladed, variable-pitch fans.
"Our great problem, of course, is the dust. If you've never seen it, you can't imagine what it's like. Any ideas you may have about sand or other materials on Earth won't apply here; this stuff is more like a liquid. Here's a sample of it."
Lawrence picked up a tall vertical cylinder, the lower third of which was filled with an amorphous gray substance. He tilted it, and the stuff began to flow. It moved more quickly than syrup, more slowly than water, and it took a few seconds for its surface to become horizontal again after it had been disturbed. No one could ever have guessed, by looking at it, that it was not a fluid.
"This cylinder is sealed," explained Lawrence, "with a vacuum inside, so the dust is showing its normal behavior. In air, it's quite different; it's much stickier, and behaves rather like very fine sand or talcum powder. I'd better warn you-- it's impossible to make a synthetic sample that has the properties of the real thing. It takes a few billion years of desiccation to produce the genuine article. If you want to do some experimenting, we'll ship you as much dust as you like; heaven knows, we can spare it.
"A few other points. Selene is three kilometers from the nearest solid land--the Mountains of Inaccessibility. There may be several hundred meters of dust beneath her, though we're not sure of that. Nor can we be quite sure that there will be no more cave-ins, though the geologists think it's very unlikely.
"The only way we can reach the site is by dust-ski. We've two units, and another one is being shipped round from Farside. They can carry or tow up to five tons of equipment; the largest single item we could put on a sledge would be about two tons. So we can't bring any really heavy gear to the site.
"Well, that's the position. We have ninety hours. Any suggestion? I've some ideas of my own, but I'd like to hear yours first."
There was a long silence while the members of the committee, scattered over a volume of space almost four hundred thousand kilometers across, brought their various talents to bear on the problem. Then the Chief Engineer, Farside, spoke from somewhere in the neighborhood of Joliot-Curie.
"It's my hunch that we can't do anything effective in ninety hours; we'll have to build special equipment, and that always takes time. So--we have to get an air line down to Selene. Where's her umbilical connection?"
"Behind the main entrance, at the rear. I don't see how you can get a line there and couple it up, fifteen meters down. Besides, everything will be clogged with dust."
"I've a better idea," someone interjected. "Drive a pipe down through the roof."
"You'll need two pipes," pointed out another speaker. "One to pump in oxygen, the other to suck out the foul air."
"That means using a complete air purifier. And we won't even need it if we can get those people out inside the ninety hours."
"Too big a gamble. Once the air supply is secure, we can take our time, and the ninety-hour deadline won't worry us."
"I accept that point," said Lawrence. "In fact, I've several men working on those lines right now. The next question is: Do we try to raise the cruiser with everyone inside, or do we get the passengers out individually? Remember, there's only one space suit aboard her."
"Could we sink a shaft to the door, and couple it to the air lock?" asked one of the scientists.
"Same problem as with the air hose. Even worse, in fact, since the coupling would be so much bigger."
"What about a cofferdam large enough to go round the whole cruiser? We could sink it round her, then dig out the dust."
"You'd need tons of piles and shorings. And don't forget, the dam would have to be sealed off at the bottom. Otherwise the dust would flow back into it, just as fast as we took it out of the top."
"Can you pump the stuff?" asked someone else.
"Yes, with the right kind of impeller. But you can't suck it, of course. It has to be lifted. A normal pump just cavitates."
"This dust," grumbled the Port Roris Assistant Engineer, "has the worst properties of solids and liquids, with none of their advantages. It won't flow when you want it to; it won't stay put when you want it to."
"Can I make a point?" said Father Ferraro, speaking from Plato. "This word 'dust' is highly misleading. What we have here is a substance that can't exist on Earth, so there's no name for it in our language. The last speaker was quite correct; sometimes you have to think of it as a nonwetting liquid, rather like mercury, but much lighter. At other times, it's a flowing solid, like pitch--except that it moves much more rapidly, of course."
"Any way it can be stabilized?" someone asked.
"I think that's a question for Earth," said Lawrence. "Doctor Evans, would you like to comment?"
Everyone waited for the three seconds, which, as always, seemed very much longer. Then the physicist answered, quite as clearly as if he were in the same room: "I've been wondering about that. There might be organic binders--glue, if you like--that would make it stick together so that it could be handled more easily. Would plain water be any use? Have you tried that?"
"No, but we will," answered Lawrence, scribbling a note.
"Is the stuff magnetic?" asked the Traffic Control Officer.
"That's a good point," said Lawrence. "Is it, Father?"
"Slightly; it contains a fair amount of meteoric iron. But I don't think that helps us at all. A magnetic field would pull out the ferrous material, but it wouldn't affect the dust as a whole."
"Anyway, we'll try." Lawrence made another note. It was his hope--though a faint one-that out of this clash of minds would come some bright idea, some apparently farfetched but fundamentally sound conception that would solve his problem. And it was his, whether he liked it or not. He was responsible, through his various deputies and departments, for every piece of technical equipment on this side of the Moon--especially when something went wrong with it.
"I'm very much afraid," said the Clavius Traffic Control Officer, "that your biggest headache will be logistics. Every piece of equipment has to be ferried out on the skis, and they take at least two hours for the round trip--more, if they're towing a heavy load. Before you even start operating, you'll have to build some kind of working platform--like a raft--that you can leave on the site. It may take a day to get that in position, and much longer to get all your equipment out to it."
"Including temporary living quarters," added someone. "The workmen will have to stay on the site."
"That's straightforward; as soon as we fix a raft, we can inflate an igloo on it."
"Better than that; you won't even need a raft. An igloo will float by itself."
"Getting back to this raft," said Lawrence, "we want strong, collapsible units that can be bolted together on the site. Any ideas?"
"Empty fuel tanks?"
"Too big and fragile. Maybe Tech Stores has something."
So it went on; the brain trust was in session. Lawrence would give it another half-hour, then he would decide on his plan of action.
One could not spend too much time talking, when the minutes were ticking away and many lives were at stake. Yet hasty and ill-conceived schemes were worse than useless, for they would absorb materials and skills that might tilt the balance between failure and success.
At first sight, it seemed such a straightforward job. There was Selene, within a hundred kilometers of a well-equipped base. Her position was known exactly, and she was only fifteen meters down. But that fifteen meters presented Lawrence with some of the most baffling problems of his entire career.
It was a career which, he knew well, might soon terminate abruptly. For it would be very hard to explain his failure if those twenty-two men and women died.

It was a great pity that not a single witness saw Auriga coming down, for it was a glorious sight. A spaceship landing or taking off is one of the most impressive spectacles that Man has yet contrived--excluding some of the more exuberant efforts of the nuclear engineers. And when it occurs on the Moon, in slow motion and uncanny silence, it has a dreamlike quality which no one who has seen it can ever forget.
Captain Anson saw no point in trying any fancy navigation, especially since someone else was paying for the gas. There was nothing in the Master's Handbook about flying a space liner a hundred kilometers--a hundred kilometers, indeed!--though no doubt the mathematicians would be delighted to work out a trajectory, based on the Calculus of Variations, using the very minimum amount of fuel. Anson simply blasted straight up for a thousand kilometers (this qualifying for deep-space rates under Interplanetary Law, though he would tell Spenser about this later) and came down again on a normal vertical approach, with final radar guidance. The ship's computer and the radar monitored each other, and both were monitored by Captain Anson. Any one of the three could have done the job, so it was really quite simple and safe, though it did not look it.
Especially to Maurice Spenser, who began to feel a great longing for the soft green hills of Earth as those desolate peaks clawed up at him. Why had he talked himself into this? Surely there were cheaper ways of committing suicide.
The worst part was the free fall between the successive braking periods. Suppose the rockets failed to fire on command, and the ship continued to plunge Moonward, slowly but inexorably accelerating until it crashed? It was no use pretending that this was a stupid or childish fear, because it had happened more than once.
It was not, however, going to happen to Auriga. The unbearable fury of the braking jets was already splashing over the rocks, blasting skyward the dust and cosmic debris that had not been disturbed in thrice a billion years. For a moment the ship hovered in delicate balance only centimeters off the ground; then, almost reluctantly, the spears of flame that supported her retracted into their scabbards. The widely spaced legs of the undercarriage made contact, their pads tilted according to the contours of the ground, and the whole ship rocked slightly for a second as the shock absorbers neutralized the residual energy of impact.
For the second time inside twenty-four hours, Maurice Spenser had landed on the Moon. That was a claim that very few men could make.