THE COSMIC COMPUTER

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fans going," Jacquemont said.

Anse Dawes held up the cigarette he had lighted; that was all the
air-analyzer he needed.

"That looks like enough oxygen," he said.

"Yes, it makes its own ventilation; convection," Jacquemont said. "But
you go to sleep in here, and you'll smother in a big puddle of your own
exhaled CO_2. Just watch what the smoke from that cigarette's doing."

The smoke was hanging motionless a few inches from the hot ash on the
end of the cigarette.

"We'll have to find the power plant, then," Matsui, the power-engineer
said. "Down at the bottom and in the middle, I suppose, and anybody's
guess how deep this place goes."