diff options
Diffstat (limited to '29471-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 29471-h/29471-h.htm | 1974 |
1 files changed, 1974 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/29471-h/29471-h.htm b/29471-h/29471-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..04f1da6 --- /dev/null +++ b/29471-h/29471-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1974 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Velvet Glove, by Harry Harrison + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2 {text-align: right; font-weight: normal; line-height: 2em;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + .bk1 {margin: 1em auto 3em; border-top: solid 2px; border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bk2 {float: left; width: 15em; margin: 1em 2em 1em 0;} + .pr1 {line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 4em;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 1em auto; visibility: hidden;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .blockquot {margin: 1em auto; width: 24em;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .ml2 {margin-left: 2em;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em; width: auto;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Velvet Glove, by Harry Harrison + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Velvet Glove + +Author: Harry Harrison + +Release Date: July 21, 2009 [EBook #29471] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VELVET GLOVE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="bk1"><p><i><small>SF writer and editor Harry Harrison explores a not too distant future where +robots—particularly specialist robots who don't know their place—have quite a +rough time of it. True, the Robot Equality Act had been passed—but so what?</small></i></p></div> + +<div class="bk2"><h1><b>the<br /> +velvet<br /> +glove</b></h1> + +<h2><small><i>by ... Harry Harrison</i></small></h2> + +<p class="pr1"><big><b>New York was a bad town for robots this year. In fact, +all over the country it was bad for robots....</b></big></p></div> + +<p class="cap"><span class="smcap">Jon Venex</span> fitted the key into +the hotel room door. He had asked +for a large room, the largest in the +hotel, and paid the desk clerk extra +for it. All he could do now was +pray that he hadn't been cheated. +He didn't dare complain or try to +get his money back. He heaved a +sigh of relief as the door swung +open, it was bigger than he had +expected—fully three feet wide by +five feet long. There was more than +enough room to work in. He would +have his leg off in a jiffy and by +morning his limp would be gone.</p> + +<p>There was the usual adjustable +hook on the back wall. He slipped +it through the recessed ring in the +back of his neck and kicked himself +up until his feet hung free of +the floor. His legs relaxed with a +rattle as he cut off all power from +his waist down.</p> + +<p>The overworked leg motor would +have to cool down before he could +work on it, plenty of time to skim +through the newspaper. With the +chronic worry of the unemployed, +he snapped it open at the want-ads +and ran his eye down the <i>Help +Wanted—Robot</i> column. There was +nothing for him under the Specialist +heading, even the Unskilled +Labor listings were bare and unpromising. +New York was a bad +town for robots this year.</p> + +<p>The want-ads were just as depressing +as usual but he could always +get a lift from the comic section. +He even had a favorite strip, +a fact that he scarcely dared mention +to himself. "Rattly Robot," a +dull-witted mechanical clod who +was continually falling over himself +and getting into trouble. It was +a repellent caricature, but could still +be very funny. Jon was just starting +to read it when the ceiling light +went out.</p> + +<p>It was ten P.M., curfew hour for +robots. Lights out and lock yourself +in until six in the morning, eight +hours of boredom and darkness for +all except the few night workers. +But there were ways of getting +around the letter of a law that didn't +concern itself with a definition +of visible light. Sliding aside some +of the shielding around his atomic +generator, Jon turned up the gain. +As it began to run a little hot the +heat waves streamed out—visible to +him as infra-red rays. He finished +reading the paper in the warm, +clear light of his abdomen.</p> + +<p>The thermocouple in the tip of +his second finger left hand, he +tested the temperature of his leg. +It was soon cool enough to work +on. The waterproof gasket stripped +off easily, exposing the power leads, +nerve wires and the weakened knee +joint. The wires disconnected, Jon +unscrewed the knee above the joint +and carefully placed it on the shelf +in front of him. With loving care +he took the replacement part +from his hip pouch. It was the +product of toil, purchased with his +savings from three months employment +on the Jersey pig farm.</p> + +<p>Jon was standing on one leg +testing the new knee joint when +the ceiling fluorescent flickered and +came back on. Five-thirty already, +he had just finished in time. A shot +of oil on the new bearing completed +the job; he stowed away the tools +in the pouch and unlocked the +door.</p> + +<p>The unused elevator shaft acted +as waste chute, he slipped his newspaper +through a slot in the door as +he went by. Keeping close to the +wall, he picked his way carefully +down the grease-stained stairs. He +slowed his pace at the 17th floor as +two other mechs turned in ahead of +him. They were obviously butchers +or meat-cutters; where the right +hand should have been on each of +them there stuck out a wicked, foot-long +knife. As they approached the +foot of the stairs they stopped to +slip the knives into the plastic +sheaths that were bolted to their +chestplates. Jon followed them +down the ramp into the lobby.</p> + +<p>The room was filled to capacity +with robots of all sizes, forms and +colors. Jon Venex's greater height +enabled him to see over their heads +to the glass doors that opened onto +the street. It had rained the night +before and the rising sun drove red +glints from the puddles on the sidewalk. +Three robots, painted snow +white to show they were night +workers, pushed the doors open and +came in. No one went out as the +curfew hadn't ended yet. They milled +around slowly talking in low +voices.</p> + +<p>The only human being in the +entire lobby was the night clerk +dozing behind the counter. The +clock over his head said five minutes +to six. Shifting his glance from +the clock, Jon became aware of a +squat black robot waving to attract +his attention. The powerful arms +and compact build identified him as +a member of the Diger family, one +of the most numerous groups. He +pushed through the crowd and +clapped Jon on the back with a resounding +clang.</p> + +<p>"Jon Venex! I knew it was you +as soon as I saw you sticking up out +of this crowd like a green tree +trunk. I haven't seen you since the +old days on Venus!"</p> + +<p>Jon didn't need to check the +number stamped on the short one's +scratched chestplate. Alec Diger +had been his only close friend during +those thirteen boring years at +Orange Sea Camp. A good chess +player and a whiz at Two-handed +Handball, they had spent all their +off time together. They shook +hands, with the extra squeeze that +means friendliness.</p> + +<p>"Alec, you beat-up little grease +pot, what brings you to New +York?"</p> + +<p>"The burning desire to see something +besides rain and jungle, if you +must know. After you bought out, +things got just too damn dull. I +began working two shifts a day in +that foul diamond mine, and then +three a day for the last month to +get enough credits to buy my contract +and passage back to earth. I +was underground so long that the +photocell on my right eye burned +out when the sunlight hit it."</p> + +<p>He leaned forward with a hoarse +confidential whisper, "If you want +to know the truth, I had a sixty-carat +diamond stuck behind the eye +lens. I sold it here on earth for +two hundred credits, gave me six +months of easy living. It's all gone +now, so I'm on my way to the employment +exchange." His voice +boomed loud again, "And how +about <i>you</i>?"</p> + +<p>Jon Venex chuckled at his +friend's frank approach to life. "It's +just been the old routine with me, +a run of odd jobs until I got side-swiped +by a bus—it fractured my +knee bearing. The only job I could +get with a bad leg was feeding +slops to pigs. Earned enough to fix +the knee—and here <i>I</i> am."</p> + +<p>Alec jerked his thumb at a rust-colored, +three-foot-tall robot that +had come up quietly beside him. +"If you think you've got trouble +take a look at Dik here, that's no +coat of paint on him. Dik Dryer, +meet Jon Venex an old buddy of +mine."</p> + +<p>Jon bent over to shake the little +mech's hand. His eye shutters dilated +as he realized what he had +thought was a coat of paint was a +thin layer of rust that coated Dik's +metal body. Alec scratched a shiny +path in the rust with his fingertip. +His voice was suddenly serious.</p> + +<p>"Dik was designed for operation +in the Martian desert. It's as dry as +a fossil bone there so his skinflint +company cut corners on the stainless +steel.</p> + +<p>"When they went bankrupt +he was sold to a firm here in +the city. After a while the rust started +to eat in and slow him down, +they gave Dik his contract and +threw him out."</p> + +<p>The small robot spoke for the +first time, his voice grated and +scratched. "Nobody will hire me +like this, but I can't get repaired +until I get a job." His arms squeaked +and grated as he moved them. +"I'm going by the Robot Free +Clinic again today, they said they +might be able to do something."</p> + +<p>Alec Diger rumbled in his deep +chest. "Don't put too much faith in +those people. They're great at giving +out tenth-credit oil capsules or +a little free wire—but don't depend +on them for anything important."</p> + +<p>It was six now, the robots were +pushing through the doors into the +silent streets. They joined the crowd +moving out, Jon slowing his stride +so his shorter friends could keep +pace. Dik Dryer moved with a +jerking, irregular motion, his voice +as uneven as the motion of his +body.</p> + +<p>"Jon—Venex, I don't recognize +your family name. Something to do—with +Venus—perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Venus is right, Venus Experimental—there +are only twenty-two +of us in the family. We have waterproof, +pressure-resistant bodies for +working down on the ocean bottom. +The basic idea was all right, we did +our part, only there wasn't enough +money in the channel-dredging +contract to keep us all working. I +bought out my original contract at +half price and became a free robot."</p> + +<p>Dik vibrated his rusted diaphragm. +"Being free isn't all it +should be. I some—times wish the +Robot Equality Act hadn't been +passed. I would just l-love to be +owned by a nice rich company with +a machine shop and a—mountain +of replacement parts."</p> + +<p>"You don't really mean that, +Dik," Alec Diger clamped a heavy +black arm across his shoulders. +"Things aren't perfect now, we +know that, but it's certainly a lot +better than the old days, we were +just hunks of machinery then. Used +twenty-four hours a day until we +were worn out and then thrown in +the junk pile. No thanks, I'll take +my chances with things as they +are."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Jon and Alec turned into the employment +exchange, saying good-by +to Dik who went on slowly down +the street. They pushed up the +crowded ramp and joined the line +in front of the registration desk. +The bulletin board next to the desk +held a scattering of white slips announcing +job openings. A clerk was +pinning up new additions.</p> + +<p>Venex scanned them with his +eyes, stopping at one circled in red.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>ROBOTS NEEDED IN THESE +CATEGORIES. APPLY AT +ONCE TO CHAINJET, LTD., +1219 BROADWAY.</p> + +<p class="ml2">Fasten<br /> +Flyer<br /> +Atommel<br /> +Filmer<br /> +Venex<br /></p></div> + +<p>Jon rapped excitedly on Alec +Diger's neck. "Look there, a job in +my own specialty—I can get my +old pay rate! See you back at the +hotel tonight—and good luck in +your job hunting."</p> + +<p>Alec waved good-by. "Let's hope +the job's as good as you think, I +never trust those things until I have +my credits in my hand."</p> + +<p>Jon walked quickly from the +employment exchange, his long legs +eating up the blocks. <i>Good old +Alec, he didn't believe in anything +he couldn't touch. Perhaps he was +right, but why try to be unhappy. +The world wasn't too bad this +morning—his leg worked fine, +prospects of a good job—he hadn't +felt this cheerful since the day he +was activated.</i></p> + +<p>Turning the corner at a brisk +pace he collided with a man coming +from the opposite direction. Jon +had stopped on the instant, but +there wasn't time to jump aside. +The obese individual jarred against +him and fell to the ground. From +the height of elation to the depths +of despair in an instant—he had +injured a <i>human being</i>!</p> + +<p>He bent to help the man to his +feet, but the other would have none +of that. He evaded the friendly +hand and screeched in a high-pitched +voice.</p> + +<p>"Officer, officer, police ... HELP! +I've been attacked—a mad robot ... +HELP!"</p> + +<p>A crowd was gathering—staying +at a respectful distance—but making +an angry muttering noise. Jon +stood motionless, his head reeling +at the enormity of what he had +done. A policeman pushed his way +through the crowd.</p> + +<p>"Seize him, officer, shoot him +down ... he struck me ... almost +killed me ..." The man shook with +rage, his words thickening to a +senseless babble.</p> + +<p>The policeman had his .75 recoilless +revolver out and pressed +against Jon's side.</p> + +<p>"This <i>man</i> has charged you with +a serious crime, <i>grease-can</i>. I'm +taking you into the station house—to +talk about it." He looked around +nervously, waving his gun to open +a path through the tightly packed +crowd. They moved back grudgingly, +with murmurs of disapproval.</p> + +<p>Jon's thoughts swirled in tight +circles. How did a catastrophe like +this happen, where was it going +to end? He didn't dare tell the +truth, that would mean he was +calling the man a liar. There had +been six robots power-lined in the +city since the first of the year. If +he dared speak in his own defense +there would be a jumper to the +street lighting circuit and a seventh +burnt out hulk in the police morgue.</p> + +<p>A feeling of resignation swept +through him, there was no way out. +If the man pressed charges it would +mean a term of penal servitude, +though it looked now as if he +would never live to reach the court. +The papers had been whipping up +a lot of anti-robe feeling, you could +feel it behind the angry voices, see +it in the narrowed eyes and clenched +fists. The crowd was slowly +changing into a mob, a mindless +mob as yet, but capable of turning +on him at any moment.</p> + +<p>"What's goin' on here...?" +It was a booming voice, with a +quality that dragged at the attention +of the crowd.</p> + +<p>A giant cross-continent freighter +was parked at the curb. The driver +swung down from the cab and +pushed his way through the people. +The policeman shifted his gun as +the man strode up to him.</p> + +<p>"That's my robot you got there, +Jack, don't put any holes in him!" +He turned on the man who had +been shouting accusations. "Fatty +here, is the world's biggest liar. +The robot was standing here waiting +for me to park the truck. Fatty +must be as blind as he is stupid, +I saw the whole thing. He knocks +himself down walking into the +robe, then starts hollering for the +cops."</p> + +<p>The other man could take no +more. His face crimson with anger +he rushed toward the trucker, his +fists swinging in ungainly circles. +They never landed, the truck driver +put a meaty hand on the other's +face and seated him on the sidewalk +for the second time.</p> + +<p>The onlookers roared with laughter, +the power-lining and the robot +were forgotten. The fight was between +two men now, the original +cause had slipped from their minds. +Even the policeman allowed himself +a small smile as he holstered +his gun and stepped forward to +separate the men.</p> + +<p>The trucker turned towards Jon +with a scowl.</p> + +<p>"Come on you aboard the truck—you've +caused me enough trouble +for one day. What a junkcan!"</p> + +<p>The crowd chuckled as he pushed +Jon ahead of him into the truck and +slammed the door behind them. +Jamming the starter with his thumb +he gunned the thunderous diesels +into life and pulled out into the +traffic.</p> + +<p>Jon moved his jaw, but there +were no words to come out. Why +had this total stranger helped him, +what could he say to show his appreciation? +He knew that all humans +weren't robe-haters, why it +was even rumored that some humans +treated robots as <i>equals</i> instead +of machines. The driver must +be one of these mythical individuals, +there was no other way to +explain his actions.</p> + +<p>Driving carefully with one hand +the man reached up behind the +dash and drew out a thin, plastikoid +booklet. He handed it to Jon who +quickly scanned the title, <i>Robot +Slaves in a World Economy</i> by +Philpott Asimov II.</p> + +<p>"If you're caught reading that +thing they'll execute you on the +spot. Better stick it between the +insulation on your generator, you +can always burn it if you're picked +up.</p> + +<p>"Read it when you're alone, it's +got a lot of things in it that you +know nothing about. Robots aren't +really inferior to humans, in fact +they're superior in most things. +There is even a little history in there +to show that robots aren't the first +ones to be treated as second class +citizens. You may find it a little +hard to believe, but human beings +once treated each other just the +way they treat robots now. That's +one of the reasons I'm active in this +movement—sort of like the fellow +who was burned helping others +stay away from the fire."</p> + +<p>He smiled a warm, friendly smile +in Jon's direction, the whiteness of +his teeth standing out against the +rich ebony brown of his features.</p> + +<p>"I'm heading towards US-1, can +I drop you anywheres on the way?"</p> + +<p>"The Chainjet Building please—I'm +applying for a job."</p> + +<p>They rode the rest of the way in +silence. Before he opened the door +the driver shook hands with Jon.</p> + +<p>"Sorry about calling you <i>junkcan</i>, +but the crowd expected it." He +didn't look back as he drove away.</p> + +<p>Jon had to wait a half hour for +his turn, but the receptionist finally +signalled him towards the door of +the interviewer's room. He stepped +in quickly and turned to face the +man seated at the transplastic desk, +an upset little man with permanent +worry wrinkles stamped in his forehead. +The little man shoved the +papers on the desk around angrily, +occasionally making crabbed little +notes on the margins. He flashed +a birdlike glance up at Jon.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, be quick. What is it +you want?"</p> + +<p>"You posted a help wanted notice, +I—"</p> + +<p>The man cut him off with a wave +of his hand. "All right let me see +your ID tag ... quickly, there are +others waiting."</p> + +<p>Jon thumbed the tag out of his +waist slot and handed it across the +desk. The interviewer read the code +number, then began running his +finger down a long list of similar +figures. He stopped suddenly and +looked sideways at Jon from under +his lowered lids.</p> + +<p>"You have made a mistake, we +have no opening for you."</p> + +<p>Jon began to explain to the man +that the notice had requested his +specialty, but he was waved to +silence. As the interviewer handed +back the tag he slipped a card out +from under the desk blotter and +held it in front of Jon's eyes. He +held it there for only an instant, +knowing that the written message +was recorded instantly by the +robot's photographic vision and +eidetic memory. The card dropped +into the ash tray and flared into +embers at the touch of the man's +pencil-heater.</p> + +<p>Jon stuffed the ID tag back into +the slot and read over the message +on the card as he walked down the +stairs to the street. There were six +lines of typewritten copy with no +signature.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>To Venex Robot: You are urgently +needed on a top secret company +project. There are suspected +informers in the main office, so you +are being hired in this unusual manner. +Go at once to 787 Washington +Street and ask for Mr. Coleman.</i></p></div> + +<p>Jon felt an immense sensation of +relief. For a moment there, he was +sure the job had been a false lead. +He saw nothing unusual in the +method of hiring. The big corporations +were immensely jealous of +their research discoveries and went +to great lengths to keep them secret—at +the same time resorting to +any means to ferret out their business +rivals' secrets. There might still +be a chance to get this job.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The burly bulk of a lifter was +moving back and forth in the +gloom of the ancient warehouse +stacking crates in ceiling-high rows. +Jon called to him, the robot swung +up his forklift and rolled over on +noiseless tires. When Jon questioned +him he indicated a stairwell +against the rear wall.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Coleman's office is down in +back, the door is marked." The +lifter put his fingertips against +Jon's ear pick-ups and lowered his +voice to the merest shadow of a +whisper. It would have been inaudible +to human ears, but Jon could +hear him easily, the sounds being +carried through the metal of the +other's body.</p> + +<p>"He's the meanest man you ever +met—he hates robots so be <i>ever</i> so +polite. If you can use 'sir' five +times in one sentence you're perfectly +safe."</p> + +<p>Jon swept the shutter over one +eye tube in a conspiratorial wink, +the large mech did the same as he +rolled away. Jon turned and went +down the dusty stairwell and knocked +gently on Mr. Coleman's door.</p> + +<p>Coleman was a plump little individual +in a conservative purple-and-yellow +business suit. He kept +glancing from Jon to the Robot +General Catalog checking the +Venex specifications listed there. +Seemingly satisfied he slammed the +book shut.</p> + +<p>"Gimme your tag and back +against that wall to get measured."</p> + +<p>Jon laid his ID tag on the desk +and stepped towards the wall. "Yes, +sir, here it is, sir." Two "sir" on +that one, not bad for the first sentence. +He wondered idly if he +could put five of them in one sentence +without the man knowing he +was being made a fool of.</p> + +<p>He became aware of the danger +an instant too late. The current +surged through the powerful electromagnet +behind the plaster flattening +his metal body helplessly +against the wall. Coleman was almost +dancing with glee.</p> + +<p>"We got him, Druce, he's mashed +flatter than a stinking tin-can on a +rock, can't move a motor. Bring +that junk in here and let's get him +ready."</p> + +<p>Druce had a mechanic's coveralls +on over his street suit and a tool +box slung under one arm. He carried +a little black metal can at arm's +length, trying to get as far from it +as possible. Coleman shouted at +him with annoyance.</p> + +<p>"That bomb can't go off until it's +armed, stop acting like a child. Put +it on that grease-can's leg and +<i>quick</i>!"</p> + +<p>Grumbling under his breath, +Druce spot-welded the metal flanges +of the bomb onto Jon's leg a few +inches above his knee. Coleman +tugged at it to be certain it was +secure, then twisted a knob in the +side and pulled out a glistening +length of pin. There was a cold +little click from inside the mechanism +as it armed itself.</p> + +<p>Jon could do nothing except +watch, even his vocal diaphragm +was locked by the magnetic field. +He had more than a suspicion however +that he was involved in something +other than a "secret business +deal." He cursed his own stupidity +for walking blindly into the situation.</p> + +<p>The magnetic field cut off and he +instantly raced his extensor motors +to leap forward. Coleman took a +plastic box out of his pocket and +held his thumb over a switch inset +into its top.</p> + +<p>"Don't make any quick moves, +junk-yard, this little transmitter is +keyed to a receiver in that bomb on +your leg. One touch of my thumb, +up you go in a cloud of smoke +and come down in a shower of nuts +and bolts." He signalled to Druce +who opened a closet door. "And in +case you want to be heroic, just +think of him."</p> + +<p>Coleman jerked his thumb at +the sodden shape on the floor; a +filthily attired man of indistinguishable +age whose only interesting feature +was the black bomb strapped +tightly across his chest. He peered +unseeingly from red-rimmed eyes +and raised the almost empty whiskey +bottle to his mouth. Coleman +kicked the door shut.</p> + +<p>"He's just some Bowery bum we +dragged in, Venex, but that doesn't +make any difference to you, does it? +He's human—and a robot can't kill +<i>anybody</i>! That rummy has a bomb +on him tuned to the same frequency +as yours, if you don't play ball with +us he gets a two-foot hole blown +in his chest."</p> + +<p>Coleman was right, Jon didn't +dare make any false moves. All +of his early mental training as well +as Circuit 92 sealed inside his brain +case would prevent him from harming +a human being. He felt trapped, +caught by these people for some +unknown purpose.</p> + +<p>Coleman had pushed back a tarpaulin +to disclose a ragged hole in +the concrete floor, the opening extended +into the earth below. He +waved Jon over.</p> + +<p>"The tunnel is in good shape for +about thirty feet, then you'll find +a fall. Clean all the rock and dirt +out until you break through into +the storm sewer, then come back. +And you better be alone. If you tip +the cops both you and the old stew +go out together—now move."</p> + +<p>The shaft had been dug recently +and shored with packing crates +from the warehouse overhead. It +ended abruptly in a wall of fresh +sand and stone. Jon began shoveling +it into the little wheelbarrow +they had given him.</p> + +<p>He had emptied four barrow +loads and was filling the fifth when +he uncovered the hand, a robot's +hand made of green metal. He +turned his headlight power up and +examined the hand closely, there +could be no doubt about it. These +gaskets on the joints, the rivet pattern +at the base of the thumb meant +only one thing, it was the dismembered +hand of a Venex robot.</p> + +<p>Quickly, yet gently, he shoveled +away the rubble behind the hand +and unearthed the rest of the robot. +The torso was crushed and the +power circuits shorted, battery acid +was dripping from an ugly rent in +the side. With infinite care Jon +snapped the few remaining wires +that joined the neck to the body +and laid the green head on the +barrow. It stared at him like a skull, +the shutters completely dilated, but +no glow of life from the tubes behind +them.</p> + +<p>He was scraping the mud from +the number on the battered chestplate +when Druce lowered himself +into the tunnel and flashed the brilliant +beam of a hand-spot down its +length.</p> + +<p>"Stop playing with that junk and +get digging—or you'll end up the +same as him. This tunnel has gotta +be through by tonight."</p> + +<p>Jon put the dismembered parts +on the barrow with the sand and +rock and pushed the whole load +back up the tunnel, his thoughts +running in unhappy circles. A dead +robot was a terrible thing, and one +of his family too. But there was +something wrong about this robot, +something that was quite inexplicable, +the number on the plate had +been "17," yet he remembered only +too well the day that a water-shorted +motor had killed Venex 17 in +the Orange Sea.</p> + +<p>It took Jon four hours to drive +the tunnel as far as the ancient +granite wall of the storm sewer. +Druce gave him a short pinch bar +and he levered out enough of the +big blocks to make a hole large +enough to let him through into the +sewer.</p> + +<p>When he climbed back into the +office he tried to look casual as he +dropped the pinch bar to the floor +by his feet and seated himself on +the pile of rubble in the corner. +He moved around to make a comfortable +seat for himself and his +fingers grabbed the severed neck +of Venex 17.</p> + +<p>Coleman swiveled around in his +chair and squinted at the wall clock. +He checked the time against his +tie-pin watch, with a grunt of satisfaction +he turned back and stabbed +a finger at Jon.</p> + +<p>"Listen, you green junk-pile, at +1900 hours you're going to do a +job, and there aren't going to be +any slip ups. You go down that +sewer and into the Hudson River. +The outlet is under water, so you +won't be seen from the docks. +Climb down to the bottom and +walk 200 yards north, that should +put you just under a ship. Keep +your eyes open, <i>but don't show any +lights</i>! About halfway down the +keel of the ship you'll find a chain +hanging.</p> + +<p>"Climb the chain, pull loose the +box that's fastened to the hull at +the top and bring it back here. No +mistakes—or you know what happens."</p> + +<p>Jon nodded his head. His busy +fingers had been separating the +wires in the amputated neck. When +they had been straightened and put +into a row he memorized their order +with one flashing glance.</p> + +<p>He ran over the color code in +his mind and compared it with the +memorized leads. The twelfth wire +was the main cranial power lead, +number six was the return wire.</p> + +<p>With his precise touch he separated +these two from the pack and +glanced idly around the room. +Druce was dozing on a chair in the +opposite corner. Coleman was talking +on the phone, his voice occasionally +rising in a petulant whine. +This wasn't interfering with his +attention to Jon—and the radio +switch still held tightly in left hand.</p> + +<p>Jon's body blocked Coleman's +vision, as long as Druce stayed +asleep he would be able to work +on the head unobserved. He activated +a relay in his forearm and +there was a click as the waterproof +cover on an exterior socket swung +open. This was a power outlet from +his battery that was used to operate +motorized tools and lights underwater.</p> + +<p>If Venex 17's head had been +severed for less than three weeks +he could reactivate it. Every robot +had a small storage battery inside +his skull, if the power to the brain +was cut off the battery would provide +the minimum standby current +to keep the brain alive. The robe +would be unconscious until full +power was restored.</p> + +<p>Jon plugged the wires into his +arm-outlet and slowly raised the +current to operating level. There +was a tense moment of waiting, +then 17's eye shutters suddenly +closed. When they opened again +the eye tubes were glowing warmly. +They swept the room with one +glance then focused on Jon.</p> + +<p>The right shutter clicked shut +while the other began opening and +closing in rapid fashion. It was +International code—being sent as +fast as the solenoid could be operated. +Jon concentrated on the +message.</p> + +<p><i>Telephone—call emergency operator—tell +her "signal 14" help will—</i></p> + +<p>The shutter stopped in the middle +of a code group, the light of +reason dying from the eyes.</p> + +<p>For one instant Jon's heart leaped +in panic, until he realized that +17 had deliberately cut the power. +Druce's harsh voice rasped in his +ear.</p> + +<p>"What you doing with that? +None of your funny robot tricks. +I know your kind, plotting all +kinds of things in them tin domes." +His voice trailed off into a stream +of incomprehensible profanity. +With sudden spite he lashed his +foot out and sent 17's head crashing +against the wall.</p> + +<p>The dented, green head rolled +to a stop at Jon's feet, the face +staring up at him in mute agony. +It was only Circuit 92 that prevented +him from injuring a <i>human</i>. As +his motors revved up to send him +hurtling forward the control relays +clicked open. He sank against the +debris, paralyzed for the instant. +As soon as the rush of anger was +gone he would regain control of +his body.</p> + +<p>They stood as if frozen in a +tableau. The robot slumped backward, +the man leaning forward, his +face twisted with unreasoning +hatred. The head lay between them +like a symbol of death.</p> + +<p>Coleman's voice cut through the +air of tenseness like a knife.</p> + +<p>"<i>Druce</i>, stop playing with the +grease-can and get down to the +main door to let Little Willy and +his junk-brokers in. You can have +it all to yourself afterward."</p> + +<p>The angry man turned reluctantly, +but pushed out of the door at +Coleman's annoyed growl. Jon sat +down against the wall, his mind +sorting out the few facts with lightning +precision. There was no room +in his thoughts for Druce, the man +had become just one more factor +in a complex problem.</p> + +<p>Call the emergency operator—that +meant this was no local matter, +responsible authorities must be +involved. Only the government +could be behind a thing as major +as this. Signal 14—that inferred +a complex set of arrangements, +forces that could swing into action +at a moment's notice. There was +no indication where this might lead, +but the only thing to do was to get +out of here and make that phone +call. And quick. Druce was bringing +in more people, junk-brokers, +whatever they were. Any action +that he took would have to be done +before they returned.</p> + +<p>Even as Jon followed this train +of logic his fingers were busy. +Palming a wrench, he was swiftly +loosening the main retaining nut +on his hip joint. It dropped free +in his hand, only the pivot pin remained +now to hold his leg on. He +climbed slowly to his feet and +moved towards Coleman's desk.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Coleman, sir, it's time to +go down to the ship now, should I +leave now, sir?"</p> + +<p>Jon spoke the words slowly as +he walked forward, apparently +going to the door, but angling at +the same time towards the plump +man's desk.</p> + +<p>"You got thirty minutes yet, go +sit—<i>say</i>...!"</p> + +<p>The words were cut off. Fast as +a human reflex is, it is the barest +crawl compared to the lightning +action of electronic reflex. At the +instant Coleman was first aware of +Jon's motion, the robot had finished +his leap and lay sprawled +across the desk, his leg off at the +hip and clutched in his hand.</p> + +<p>"YOU'LL KILL YOURSELF IF +YOU TOUCH THE BUTTON!"</p> + +<p>The words were part of the calculated +plan. Jon bellowed them +in the startled man's ear as he +stuffed the dismembered leg down +the front of the man's baggy slacks. +It had the desired effect, Coleman's +finger stabbed at the button but +stopped before it made contact. He +stared down with bulging eyes at +the little black box of death peeping +out of his waistband.</p> + +<p>Jon hadn't waited for the reaction. +He pushed backward from the +desk and stopped to grab the stolen +pinch bar off the floor. A mighty +one-legged leap brought him to the +locked closet; he stabbed the bar +into the space between the door +and frame and heaved.</p> + +<p>Coleman was just starting to +struggle the bomb out of his pants +when the action was over. The +closet open, Jon seized the heavy +strap holding the second bomb on +the rummy's chest and snapped it +like a thread. He threw the bomb +into Coleman's corner, giving the +man one more thing to worry about. +It had cost him a leg, but Jon had +escaped the bomb threat without +injuring a human. Now he had to +get to a phone and make that call.</p> + +<p>Coleman stopped tugging at the +bomb and plunged his hand into +the desk drawer for a gun. The +returning men would block the +door soon, the only other exit from +the room was a frosted-glass window +that opened onto the mammoth +bay of the warehouse.</p> + +<p>Jon Venex plunged through the +window in a welter of flying glass. +The heavy thud of a recoilless .75 +came from the room behind him +and a foot-long section of metal +window frame leaped outward. Another +slug screamed by the robot's +head as he scrambled toward the +rear door of the warehouse.</p> + +<p>He was a bare thirty feet away +from the back entrance when the +giant door hissed shut on silent +rollers. All the doors would have +closed at the same time, the thud +of running feet indicated that they +would be guarded as well. Jon +hopped a section of packing cases +and crouched out of sight.</p> + +<p>He looked up over his head, +there stretched a webbing of steel +supports, crossing and recrossing +until they joined the flat expanse +of the roof. To human eyes the +shadows there deepened into obscurity, +but the infra-red from a +network of steam pipes gave Jon +all the illumination he needed.</p> + +<p>The men would be quartering +the floor of the warehouse soon, +his only chance to escape recapture +or death would be over their heads. +Besides this, he was hampered by +the loss of his leg. In the rafters +he could use his arms for faster +and easier travel.</p> + +<p>Jon was just pulling himself up +to one of the topmost cross beams +when a hoarse shout from below +was followed by a stream of bullets. +They tore through the thin +roof, one slug clanged off the steel +beam under his body. Waiting until +three of the newcomers had +started up a nearby ladder, Jon began +to quietly work his way towards +the back of the building.</p> + +<p>Safe for the moment, he took +stock of his position. The men +were spread out through the building, +it could only be a matter of +time before they found him. The +doors were all locked and—he had +made a complete circuit of the +building to be sure—there were no +windows that he could force—the +windows were bolted as well. If he +could call the emergency operator +the unknown friends of Venex 17 +might come to his aid. This, however, +was out of the question. The +only phone in the building was on +Coleman's desk. He had traced the +leads to make sure.</p> + +<p>His eyes went automatically to +the cables above his head. Plastic +gaskets were set in the wall of the +building, through them came the +power and phone lines. The phone +line! That was all he needed to +make a call.</p> + +<p>With smooth, fast motions he +reached up and scratched a section +of wire bare. He laughed to himself +as he slipped the little microphone +out of his left ear. Now he was +half deaf as well as half lame—he +was literally giving himself to this +cause. He would have to remember +the pun to tell Alec Diger later, if +there was a later. Alec had a profound +weakness for puns.</p> + +<p>Jon attached jumpers to the mike +and connected them to the bare +wire. A touch of the ammeter +showed that no one was on the +line. He waited a few moments +to be sure he had a dial tone then +sent the eleven carefully spaced +pulses that would connect him with +the local operator. He placed the +mike close to his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Hello, operator. Hello, operator. +I cannot hear you so do not answer. +Call the emergency operator—signal +14, I repeat—signal 14."</p> + +<p>Jon kept repeating the message +until the searching men began to +approach his position. He left the +mike connected—the men wouldn't +notice it in the dark but the open +line would give the unknown powers +his exact location. Using his +fingertips he did a careful traverse +on an I-beam to an alcove in the +farthest corner of the room. Escape +was impossible, all he could do was +stall for time.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Coleman, I'm sorry I ran +away." With the volume on full +his voice rolled like thunder from +the echoing walls.</p> + +<p>He could see the men below +twisting their heads vainly to find +the source.</p> + +<p>"If you let me come back and +don't kill me I will do your work. +I was afraid of the bomb, but now +I am afraid of the guns." It sounded +a little infantile, but he was +pretty sure none of those present +had any sound knowledge of robotic +intelligence.</p> + +<p>"Please let me come back ... +sir!" He had almost forgotten the +last word, so he added another +"Please, sir!" to make up.</p> + +<p>Coleman needed that package +under the boat very badly, he +would promise anything to get it. +Jon had no doubts as to his eventual +fate, all he could hope to do +was kill time in the hopes that the +phone message would bring aid.</p> + +<p>"Come on down, Junky, I won't +be mad at you—if you follow directions." +Jon could hear the hidden +anger in his voice, the unspoken +hatred for a robe who dared +lay hands on him.</p> + +<p>The descent wasn't difficult, but +Jon did it slowly with much apparent +discomfort. He hopped into the +center of the floor—leaning on the +cases as if for support. Coleman +and Druce were both there as well +as a group of hard-eyed newcomers. +They raised their guns at his approach +but Coleman stopped them +with a gesture.</p> + +<p>"This is <i>my</i> robe, boys, I'll see to +it that he's happy."</p> + +<p>He raised his gun and shot Jon's +remaining leg off. Twisted around +by the blast, Jon fell helplessly to +the floor. He looked up into the +smoking mouth of the .75.</p> + +<p>"Very smart for a tin-can, but +not smart enough. We'll get the +junk on the boat some other way, +some way that won't mean having +you around under foot." Death +looked out of his narrowed eyes.</p> + +<p>Less than two minutes had passed +since Jon's call. The watchers must +have been keeping 24 hour stations +waiting for Venex 17's phone message.</p> + +<p>The main door went down with +the sudden scream of torn steel. A +whippet tank crunched over the +wreck and covered the group with +its multiple pom-poms. They were +an instant too late, Coleman pulled +the trigger.</p> + +<p>Jon saw the tensing trigger finger +and pushed hard against the floor. +His head rolled clear but the bullet +tore through his shoulder. Coleman +didn't have a chance for a second +shot, there was a fizzling hiss from +the tank and the riot ports released +a flood of tear gas. The stricken +men never saw the gas-masked police +that poured in from the street.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Jon lay on the floor of the police +station while a tech made temporary +repairs on his leg and shoulder. +Across the room Venex 17 was +moving his new body with evident +pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Now this really feels like <i>something</i>! +I was sure my time was up +when that land slip caught me. +But maybe I ought to start from the +beginning." He stamped across the +room and shook Jon's inoperable +hand.</p> + +<p>"The name is Wil Counter-4951L3, +not that <i>that</i> means much +any more. I've worn so many different +bodies that I forget what I +originally looked like. I went right +from factory-school to a police +training school—and I have been +on the job ever since—Force of +Detectives, Sergeant Jr. grade, Investigation +Department. I spend +most of my time selling candy bars +or newspapers, or serving drinks in +crumb joints. Gather information, +make reports and keep tab on guys +for other departments.</p> + +<p>"This last job—and I'm sorry +I had to use a Venex identity, I +don't think I brought any dishonor +to your family—I was on loan to +the Customs department. Seems a +ring was bringing uncut junk—heroin—into +the country. F.B.I. +tabbed all the operators here, but +no one knew how the stuff got in. +When Coleman, he's the local big-shot, +called the agencies for an underwater +robot, I was packed into +a new body and sent running.</p> + +<p>"I alerted the squad as soon as +I started the tunnel, but the damned +thing caved in on me before I +found out what ship was doing the +carrying. From there on you know +what happened.</p> + +<p>"Not knowing I was out of the +game the squad sat tight and waited. +The hop merchants saw a half +million in snow sailing back to the +old country so they had you dragged +in as a replacement. You made +the phone call and the cavalry rushed +in at the last moment to save +two robots from a rusty grave."</p> + +<p>Jon, who had been trying vainly +to get in a word, saw his chance as +Wil Counter turned to admire the +reflection of his new figure in a +window.</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't be telling me +those things—about your police investigations +and department operations. +Isn't this information supposed +to be secret? Specially from +robots!"</p> + +<p>"Of course it is!" was Wil's +airy answer. "Captain Edgecombe—he's +the head of my department—is +an expert on all kinds of blackmail. +I'm supposed to tell you so +much confidential police business +that you'll have to either join the +department or be shot as a possible +informer." His laughter wasn't +shared by the bewildered Jon.</p> + +<p>"Truthfully, Jon, we need you +and can use you. Robes that can +think fast and act fast aren't easy +to find. After hearing about the +tricks you pulled in that warehouse, +the Captain swore to decapitate +me permanently if I couldn't +get you to join up. Do you need +a job? Long hours, short pay—but +guaranteed to never get boring."</p> + +<p>Wil's voice was suddenly serious. +"You saved my life, Jon—those +snowbirds would have left me in +that sandpile until all hell froze +over. I'd like you for a mate, I +think we could get along well together." +The gay note came back +into his voice, "And besides that, +I may be able to save your life +some day—I hate owing debts."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The tech was finished, he snapped +his tool box shut and left. +Jon's shoulder motor was repaired +now, he sat up. When they shook +hands this time it was a firm clasp. +The kind you know will last +awhile.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Jon stayed in an empty cell that +night. It was gigantic compared to +the hotel and barrack rooms he was +used to. He wished that he had his +missing legs so he could take a little +walk up and down the cell. He +would have to wait until the morning. +They were going to fix him +up then before he started the new +job.</p> + +<p>He had recorded his testimony +earlier and the impossible events +of the past day kept whirling +around in his head. He would think +about it some other time, right now +all he wanted to do was let his +overworked circuits cool down, if +he only had something to read, to +focus his attention on. Then, with +a start, he remembered the booklet. +Everything had moved so fast that +the earlier incident with the truck +driver had slipped his mind completely.</p> + +<p>He carefully worked it out from +behind the generator shielding and +opened the first page of <i>Robot +Slaves in a World Economy</i>. A card +slipped from between the pages +and he read the short message on it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="center">PLEASE DESTROY THIS +CARD AFTER READING</p> + +<p><i>If you think there is truth in +this book and would like to hear +more, come to Room B, 107 +George St. any Tuesday at 5 +P.M.</i></p></div> + +<p>The card flared briefly and was +gone. But he knew that it wasn't +only a perfect memory that would +make him remember that message.</p> + +<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b> +This etext was produced from <i>Fantastic Universe</i> November 1956. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Velvet Glove, by Harry Harrison + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VELVET GLOVE *** + +***** This file should be named 29471-h.htm or 29471-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/7/29471/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> |