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- Исаак Азимов
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"
Hey
,
Greg
,
"
it
howled
,
"
the
ship
has
got
plumbing
.
How
did
we
miss
it
?
"
It
was
some
five
minutes
later
that
he
found
Powell
by
hit-and-miss
.
He
was
saying
,
"
Still
no
shower
baths
,
though
,
"
but
it
got
choked
off
in
the
middle
.
"
Food
,
"
he
gasped
.
The
wall
had
dropped
away
,
leaving
a
curved
gap
with
two
shelves
.
The
upper
shelf
was
loaded
with
unlabeled
cans
of
a
bewildering
variety
of
sizes
and
shapes
.
The
enameled
cans
on
the
lower
shelf
were
uniform
and
Donovan
felt
a
cold
draft
about
his
ankles
.
The
lower
half
was
refrigerated
.
"
How
...
how
-
"
"
It
was
n't
there
,
before
,
"
said
Powell
,
curtly
.
"
That
wall
section
dropped
out
of
sight
as
I
came
in
the
door
.
"
He
was
eating
.
The
can
was
the
preheating
type
with
enclosed
spoon
and
the
warm
odor
of
baked
beans
filled
the
room
.
"
Grab
a
can
,
Mike
!
"
Donovan
hesitated
,
"
What
's
the
menu
?
"
"
How
do
I
know
!
Are
you
finicky
?
"
"
No
,
but
all
I
eat
on
ships
are
beans
.
Something
else
would
be
first
choice
.
"
His
hand
hovered
and
selected
a
shining
elliptical
can
whose
flatness
seemed
reminiscent
of
salmon
or
similar
delicacy
.
It
opened
at
the
proper
pressure
.
