“The floor’s padded,” Leoh said, “but I forgot to pad the edge of the platform. Hope it didn’t hurt you too badly.”
Ponte sat up groggily, his head rolling. It took him three tries to stand up again. He staggered forward.
“On your right is an inclined plane of the sort Galileo used, only much larger. You’ll have to hurry to get past the ball…,”
At a touch of Leoh’s finger on the control box, an immense metal ball began rolling down the gangwaysized plane. Ponte heard its rumbling, turned to stare at it goggle-eyed, and barely managed to jump out of its way. The ball rolled across the floor, ponderously smashing everything in its way until it crashed against the far wall.
“Perhaps you’d better sit down for a few moments and gather your wits,” Leoh suggested.
Ponte was puffing hard. “You . . . you’re a devil … a smiling devil.”
He reached down for a small sphere at his feet. As he raised his hand to throw it, Leoh touched the control box again and the turntable platform began to rotate slowly. Ponte’s awkward toss missed him by a meter.
“I can adjust the turntable’s speed,” Leoh explained as Ponte threw several more spheres. All missed.
The Acquatainian, his once-bland face furiously red now, rushed toward the spinning platform and jumped onto it, on the side opposite Leoh. He still had two small spheres in his hand.
“Be careful,” Leoh warned as Ponte swayed and nearly fell off. “Centrifugal force can be tricky. …”
The two men stood unmoving for a moment: Leo alertly watching, Ponte glaring. The room appeared to be swinging around them.