Force and Motion Read Online Free Page B

to clothe his creation in loose trousers, which flapped merrily in the steady breeze off the water. Next time , he thought, I’ll use colored cloth. Something really bright. Rainbow patterned . But, for the apparatus’s first real run, white cloth seemed appropriate.
    Clark asked, “How do you keep it from crushing anything?”
    Maxwell winced, unsure whether the doctor was merely woefully ignorant of any principles of modern engineering or was simply being a good therapist and giving his patient plenty of room to reply. In either case, he decided, the reply would be the same. “It’s pretty simple,” Maxwell said. “Microsensors are slaved to the antigravs, and the main processor makes sure the structure maintains enough buoyancy to not come down too hard.”
    â€œThe feet actually do make contact?”
    â€œYes,” Maxwell explained. “So, the treetops bow a little. There are footprints in the sand. Otherwise, it would look odd. You might not be able to spot exactly why, but some part of your brain would tell you it was all a trick. This way—”
    â€œIt looks like a giant pair of legs walking around the island.”
    â€œ Strolling around the island. I worked hard to make sure the gait was correct.” He shaded his own eyes with his hand. Stupid to have forgotten his sunglasses. “He’s taking it easy. Not in any hurry. He’s just . . . taking it all in.”
    â€œAnd isn’t that a lesson for us all?”
    Down on the beach road, Maxwell watched pedestrians and cyclists stop short as the legs came into view. The rolling landscape, even down by the muddy shoreline, meant it was difficult to spot the giant legs coming from more than a couple hundred meters away. He couldn’t see the people’s expressions (he should have sent out some probes), but their posture signaled their reactions: awe, confusion, wonder, amusement. No one appeared to be frightened, which was good. It meant Maxwell had correctly calibrated the timing of the legs’ pace: no one was alarmed because who could be alarmed about a man out for a stroll?
    Colony staff and inmates ( No, Maxwell corrected himself, not inmates, patients ) were coming out of the administration buildings and dormitories. Maxwell had timed the event well: just after breakfast, but before the first round of group therapy sessions. People were asking, “What is it?” and “What does it mean?” No one sounded alarmed; most were delighted or, at worst, confused. He flicked his gaze over to Doctor Clark, who was studying him as best he could under the glare of midmorning.
    â€œWell, Ben,” Clark asked, smiling slyly, “what does it mean?”
    â€œIt means I have a degree in engineering with a specialty in repulsor field dynamics,” Maxwell replied, watching as the legs briefly paused to avoid a foolhardy pedestrian who wandered too close to its foot pad.
    â€œThat’s all?” Clark asked, crossing the lawn to stand closer. “Nothing else? No other message?” The wide lawn rolled down before them. Beside Maxwell, a small silver and ivory box chirped and ticked in time with the giant’s steps.
    â€œI’m not sure what you’re trying to say, Doc,” Maxwell said with all the sincerity he could muster. In the months since Gunther had left the colony and Clark had become Maxwell’s primary counselor and (he had to admit it) confidant, they had developed a friendly, if contentious, give and take. Maxwell pretended to be ignorant of thedoctor’s therapeutic ripostes, and Clark pretended not to be annoyed.
    â€œI think you’re trying to tell us something,” Clark said. “Or maybe only yourself.” Maxwell remained silent. Clark sighed. “You’re usually not this obtuse, Ben.”
    â€œI usually haven’t released a pair of giant legs into the wild. I might be distracted.”
    â€œAnd you