text_original: The thrumming of the jets was still at last. A wild eyed thing that may once have been a man stared in horror at the fading light of the yellow star far astern. It had taken Kane time to understand what had happened to him, and now it was too late. Space had taken care of its own. The air in _The Luck_ was growing foul and the food was gone. Death hung in the fetid atmosphere of the tiny control room. The old man  the boy  the money.
text_transcription: THE THRUMMING OF THE JETS WAS STILL AT LAST A WILD EYED THING THAT MAY ONCE HAVE BEEN A MAN STARED IN HORROR AT THE FADING LIGHT OF THE YELLOW STAR FAR ASTERN IT HAD TAKEN CAIN TIME TO UNDERSTAND WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO HIM AND NOW IT WAS TOO LATE SPACE HAD TAKEN CARE OF ITS OWN THE AIR IN THE LUCK WAS GROWING FOUL AND THE FOOD WAS GONE DEATH HUNG IN THE FETID ATMOSPHERE OF THE TINY CONTROL ROOM THE OLD MAN THE BOY THE MONEY
phonemes: ðə θɹˈʌmɪŋ ʌvðə dʒˈɛts wʌz stˈɪl æt lˈæst. ɐ wˈaɪld ˈaɪd θˈɪŋ ðæt mˈeɪ wˈʌns hɐvbɪn ɐ mˈæn stˈɛɹd ɪn hˈɔɹɚɹ æt ðə fˈeɪdɪŋ lˈaɪt ʌvðə jˈɛloʊ stˈɑːɹ fˈɑːɹ ɐstˈɜːn. ɪt hæd tˈeɪkən kˈeɪn tˈaɪm tʊ ˌʌndɚstˈænd wʌt hæd hˈæpənd tə hˌɪm, ænd nˈaʊ ɪt wʌz tˈuː lˈeɪt. spˈeɪs hæd tˈeɪkən kˈɛɹ ʌv ɪts ˈoʊn. ðɪ ˈɛɹ ɪnðə lˈʌk wʌz ɡɹˈoʊɪŋ fˈaʊl ænd ðə fˈuːd wʌz ɡˈɔn. dˈɛθ hˈʌŋ ɪnðə fˈɛɾɪd ˈætməsfˌɪɹ ʌvðə tˈaɪni kəntɹˈoʊl ɹˈuːm. ðɪ ˈoʊld mˈæn ðə bˈɔɪ ðə mˈʌni.