initial commit of ebook 22869HEADmain

1 files changed, 1494 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/22869.txt b/22869.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2312b32
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22869.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,1494 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dark Door, by Alan Edward Nourse
+
+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 Dark Door
+
+Author: Alan Edward Nourse
+
+Release Date: October 3, 2007 [EBook #22869]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DARK DOOR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+    This etext was produced from _The Counterfeit Man More Science
+    Fiction Stories by Alan E. Nourse_ published in 1963. 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.
+
+
+
+
+ The
+ Dark
+ Door
+
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+It was almost dark when he awoke, and lay on the bed, motionless and
+trembling, his heart sinking in the knowledge that he should never have
+slept. For almost half a minute, eyes wide with fear, he lay in the
+silence of the gloomy room, straining to hear some sound, some
+indication of their presence.
+
+But the only sound was the barely audible hum of his wrist watch and the
+dismal splatter of raindrops on the cobbled street outside. There was no
+sound to feed his fear, yet he knew then, without a flicker of doubt,
+that they were going to kill him.
+
+He shook his head, trying to clear the sleep from his brain as he turned
+the idea over and over in his mind. He wondered why he hadn't realized
+it before, long before, back when they had first started this horrible,
+nerve-wracking cat-and-mouse game. The idea just hadn't occurred to him.
+But he knew the game-playing was over. They wanted to kill him now. And
+he knew that ultimately they _would_ kill him. There was no way for him
+to escape.
+
+He sat up on the edge of the bed, painfully, perspiration standing out
+on his bare back, and he waited, listening. How could he have slept,
+exposing himself so helplessly? Every ounce of his energy, all the skill
+and wit and shrewdness at his command were necessary in this cruel hunt;
+yet he had taken the incredibly terrible chance of sleeping, of losing
+consciousness, leaving himself wide open and helpless against the attack
+which he knew was inevitable.
+
+How much had he lost? How close had they come while he slept?
+
+Fearfully, he walked to the window, peered out, and felt his muscles
+relax a little. The gray, foggy streets were still light. He still had a
+little time before the terrible night began.
+
+He stumbled across the small, old-fashioned room, sensing that action of
+some sort was desperately needed. The bathroom was tiny; he stared in
+the battered, stained reflector unit, shocked at the red-eyed
+stubble-faced apparition that stared back at him.
+
+This is Harry Scott, he thought, thirty-two years old, and in the prime
+of life, but not the same Harry Scott who started out on a ridiculous
+quest so many months ago. This Harry Scott was being hunted like an
+animal, driven by fear, helpless, and sure to die, unless he could find
+an escape, somehow. But there were too many of them for him to escape,
+and they were too clever, and they _knew_ he knew too much.
+
+He stepped into the shower-shave unit, trying to relax, to collect his
+racing thoughts. Above all, he tried to stay the fear that burned
+through his mind, driving him to panic and desperation. The memory of
+the last hellish night was too stark to allow relaxation--the growing
+fear, the silent, desperate hunt through the night; the realization that
+their numbers were increasing; his frantic search for a hiding place in
+the New City; and finally his panic-stricken, pell-mell flight down into
+the alleys and cobbled streets and crumbling frame buildings of the Old
+City.... Even more horrible, the friends who had turned on him, who
+turned out to be _like_ them.
+
+Back in the bedroom, he lay down again, his body still tense. There were
+sounds in the building, footsteps moving around on the floor overhead, a
+door banging somewhere. With every sound, every breath of noise, his
+muscles tightened still further, freezing him in fear. His own breath
+was shallow and rapid in his ears as he lay, listening, waiting.
+
+If only something would happen! He wanted to scream, to bang his head
+against the wall, to run about the room smashing his fist into doors,
+breaking every piece of furniture. It was the _waiting_, the eternal
+waiting, and running, waiting some more, feeling the net drawing tighter
+and tighter as he waited, feeling the measured, unhurried tread behind
+him, always following, coming closer and closer, as though he were a
+mouse on a string, twisting and jerking helplessly.
+
+If only they would move, do something he could counter.
+
+But he wasn't even sure any more that he could detect them. And they
+were so careful never to move into the open.
+
+He jumped up feverishly, moved to the window, and peered between the
+slats of the dusty, old-fashioned blind at the street below.
+
+An empty street at first, wet, gloomy. He saw no one. Then he caught the
+flicker of light in an entry several doors down and across the street,
+as a dark figure sparked a cigarette to life. Harry felt the chill run
+down his back again. Still there, then, still waiting, a hidden figure,
+always present, always waiting....
+
+Harry's eyes scanned the rest of the street rapidly. Two three-wheelers
+rumbled by, their rubber hissing on the wet pavement. One of them
+carried the blue-and-white of the Old City police, but the car didn't
+slow up or hesitate as it passed the dark figure in the doorway. They
+would never help me anyway, Harry thought bitterly. He had tried that
+before, and met with ridicule and threats. There would be no help from
+the police in the Old City.
+
+Another figure came around a corner. There was something vaguely
+familiar about the tall body and broad shoulders as the man walked
+across the wet street, something Harry faintly recognized from somewhere
+during the spinning madness of the past few weeks.
+
+The man's eyes turned up toward the window for the briefest instant,
+then returned steadfastly to the street. Oh, they were sly! You could
+never spot them looking at you, never for _sure_, but they were always
+there, always nearby. And there was no one he could trust any longer, no
+one to whom he could turn.
+
+Not even George Webber.
+
+Swiftly his mind reconsidered that possibility as he watched the figure
+move down the street. True, Dr. Webber had started him out on this
+search in the first place. But even Webber would never believe what he
+had found. Webber was a scientist, a researcher.
+
+What could he do--go to Webber and tell him that there were men alive in
+the world who were _not_ men, who were somehow men and something more?
+
+Could he walk into Dr. Webber's office in the Hoffman Medical Center,
+walk through the gleaming bright corridors, past the shining metallic
+doors, and tell Dr. Webber that he had found people alive in the world
+who could actually see in four dimensions, live in four dimensions,
+_think_ in four dimensions?
+
+Could he explain to Dr. Webber that he knew this simply because in some
+way he had sensed them, and traced them, and discovered them; that he
+had not one iota of proof, except that he was being followed by them,
+hunted by them, even now, in a room in the Old City, waiting for them to
+strike him down?
+
+He shook his head, almost sobbing. That was what was so horrible. He
+couldn't tell Webber, because Webber would be certain that he had gone
+mad, just like the rest. He couldn't tell anyone, he couldn't do
+anything. He could just wait, and run, and wait--
+
+It was almost dark now and the creaking of the old board house
+intensified the fear that tore at Harry Scott's mind. Tonight was the
+night; he was sure of it. Maybe he had been foolish in coming here to
+the slum area, where the buildings were relatively unguarded, where
+anybody could come and go as he pleased. But the New City had hardly
+been safer, even in the swankiest private chamber in the highest
+building. They had had agents there, too, hunting him, driving home the
+bitter lesson of fear they had to teach him. Now he was afraid enough;
+now they were ready to kill him.
+
+Down below he heard a door bang, and he froze, his back against the
+wall. There were footsteps, quiet voices, barely audible. His whole body
+shook and his eyes slid around to the window. The figure in the doorway
+still waited--but the other figure was not visible. He heard the steps
+on the stair, ascending slowly, steadily, a tread that paced itself with
+the powerful throbbing of his own pulse.
+
+Then the telephone screamed out--
+
+Harry gasped. The footsteps were on the floor below, moving steadily
+upward. The telephone rang again and again; the shrill jangling filled
+the room insistently. He waited until he couldn't wait any longer. His
+hand fumbled in a pocket and leveled a tiny, dull-gray metal object at
+the door. With the other hand, he took the receiver from the hook.
+
+"Harry! Is that you?"
+
+His throat was like sandpaper and the words came out in a rasp. "What is
+it?"
+
+"Harry, this is George--George Webber."
+
+His eyes were glued to the door. "All right. What do you want?"
+
+"You've got to come talk to us, Harry. We've been waiting for weeks now.
+You promised us. We've _got_ to talk to you."
+
+Harry still watched the door, but his breath came easier. The footsteps
+moved with ridiculous slowness up the stairs, down the hall toward the
+room.
+
+"What do you want me to do? They've come to kill me."
+
+There was a long pause. "Harry, are you sure?"
+
+"Dead sure."
+
+"Can you make a break for it?"
+
+Harry blinked. "I could try. But it won't do any good."
+
+"Well, at least try, Harry. Get here to the Hoffman Center. We'll help
+you all we can."
+
+"I'll try." Harry's words were hardly audible as he set the receiver
+down with a trembling hand.
+
+The room was silent. The footsteps had stopped. A wave of panic passed
+up Harry's spine; he crossed the room, threw open the door, stared up
+and down the hall, unbelieving.
+
+The hall was empty. He started down toward the stairs at a dead run, and
+then, too late, saw the faint golden glow of a Parkinson Field across
+the dingy corridor. He gasped in fear, and screamed out once as he
+struck it.
+
+And then, for seconds stretching into hours, he heard his scream echoing
+and re-echoing down long, bitter miles of hollow corridor.
+
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+George Webber leaned back in the soft chair, turning a quizzical glance
+toward the younger man across the room. He lit a long black cigar.
+
+"Well?" His heavy voice boomed out in the small room. "Now that we've
+got him here, what do you think?"
+
+The younger man glanced uncomfortably through the glass wall panel into
+the small dark room beyond. In the dimness, he could barely make out the
+still form on the bed, grotesque with the electrode-vernier apparatus
+already in place at its temples. Dr. Manelli looked away sharply, and
+leafed through the thick sheaf of chart papers in his hand.
+
+"I don't know," he said dully. "I just don't know what to think."
+
+The other man's laugh seemed to rise from the depths of his huge chest.
+His heavy face creased into a thousand wrinkles. Dr. Webber was a large
+man, his broad shoulders carrying a suggestion of immense power that
+matched the intensity of his dark, wide-set eyes. He watched Dr.
+Manelli's discomfort grow, saw the younger doctor's ears grow red, and
+the almost cruel lines in his face were masked as he laughed still
+louder.
+
+"Trouble with you, Frank, you just don't have the courage of your
+convictions."
+
+"Well, I don't see anything so funny about it!" Manelli's eyes were
+angry. "The man has a suspicious syndrome--so you've followed him, and
+spied on him for weeks on end, which isn't exactly highest ethical
+practice in collecting a history. I still can't see how you're
+justified."
+
+Dr. Webber snorted, tossing his cigar down on the desk with disgust.
+"The man is insane. That's my justification. He's out of touch with
+reality. He's wandered into a wild, impossible, fantastic dream world.
+And we've got to get him out of it, because what he knows, what he's
+trying to hide from us, is so incredibly dangerous that we don't dare
+let him go."
+
+The big man stared at Manelli, his dark eyes flashing. "Can't you see
+that? Or would you rather sit back and let Harry Scott go the way that
+Paulus and Wineberg and the others went?"
+
+"But to use the Parkinson Field on him--" Dr. Manelli shook his head
+hopelessly. "He'd offered to come over, George. We didn't need to use
+it."
+
+"Sure, he offered to come--fine, fine. But supposing he changed his mind
+on the way? For all we know, he had us figured into his paranoia, too,
+and never would have come near the Hoffman Center."
+
+Dr. Webber shook his head. "We're not playing a game any more, Frank.
+Get that straight. I thought it was a game a couple of years ago, when
+we first started. But it ceased to be a game when men like Paulus and
+Wineberg walked in sane, healthy men, and came out blubbering idiots.
+That's no game any more. We're onto something big. And, if Harry Scott
+can lead us to the core of it, then I can't care too much what happens
+to Harry Scott."
+
+Dr. Manelli stood up sharply, walked to the window, and looked down over
+the bright, clean buildings of the Hoffman Medical Center. Out across
+the terraced park that surrounded the glassed towers and shining metal
+of the Center rose the New City, tier upon tier of smooth, functional
+architecture, a city of dreams built up painfully out of the rubble of
+the older, ruined city.
+
+"You could kill him," the young man said finally. "The psycho-integrator
+isn't any standard interrogative technique; it's dangerous and
+treacherous. You never know for sure just what you're doing when you dig
+down into a man's brain tissue with those little electrode probes."
+
+"But we can learn the truth about Harry Scott," Dr. Webber broke in.
+"Six months ago, Harry Scott was working with us, a quiet, affable,
+pleasant young fellow, extremely intelligent, intensely co-operative. He
+was just the man we needed to work with us, an engineer who could take
+our data and case histories, study them, and subject them to a
+completely nonmedical analysis. Oh, we had to have it done--the
+problem's been with us for a hundred years now, growing ever since the
+1950s and 60s--insanity in the population, growing, spreading without
+rhyme or reason, insinuating itself into every nook and cranny of our
+civilized life."
+
+The big man blinked at Manelli. "Harry Scott was the new approach. We
+were too close to the problem. We needed a nonmedical outsider to take a
+look, to tell us what we were missing. So Harry Scott walked into the
+problem, and then abruptly lost contact with us. We finally track him
+down and find him gone, out of touch with reality, on the same wretched
+road that all the others went. With Harry, it's paranoia. He's being
+persecuted; he has the whole world against him, but most important--the
+factor we don't dare overlook--_he's no longer working on the problem_."
+
+Manelli shifted uneasily. "I suppose that's right."
+
+"Of course it's right!" Dr. Webber's eyes flashed. "Harry found
+something in those statistics. Something about the data, or the case
+histories; or something Harry Scott himself dug up opened a door for him
+to go through, a door that none of us ever dreamed existed. We don't
+know what he found on the other side of that door. Oh, we know what he
+_thinks_ he found, all this garbage about people that look normal but
+walk through walls when nobody's looking, who think around corners
+instead of in straight-line logic. But what he _really_ found there, we
+don't have any way of telling. We just know that whatever he _really_
+found is something new, something unsuspected; something so dangerous it
+can drive an intelligent man into the wildest delusions of paranoid
+persecution."
+
+A new light appeared in Dr. Manelli's eyes as he faced the other doctor.
+"Wait a minute," he said softly. "The integrator is an _experimental_
+instrument, too."
+
+Dr. Webber smiled slyly. "Now you're beginning to think," he said.
+
+"But you'll see only what Scott himself believes. And _he_ thinks his
+story is true."
+
+"Then we'll have to break his story."
+
+"_Break_ it?"
+
+"Certainly. For some reason, this delusion of persecution is far safer
+for Harry Scott than facing what he really found out. What we've got to
+do is to make this delusion _less_ safe than the truth."
+
+The room was silent for a long moment. Manelli looked up, his fingers
+trembling. "Let's hear it."
+
+"It's very simple. Up to now, Harry Scott has had _delusions_ of
+persecution. But now we're _really_ going to persecute Harry Scott, as
+he's never been persecuted before."
+
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+At first he thought he was at the bottom of a deep well and he lay quite
+still, his eyes clamped shut, wondering where he was and how he could
+possibly have gotten there. He could feel the dampness and chill of the
+stone floor under him, and nearby he heard the damp, insistent drip of
+water splashing against stone. He felt his muscles tighten as the
+dripping sound forced itself against his senses. Then he opened his
+eyes.
+
+His first impulse was to scream out wildly in unreasoning, suffocating
+fear. He fought it down, struggling to sit up in the blackness, his
+whole mind turned in bitter, hopeless hatred at the ones who had hunted
+him for so long, and now had trapped him.
+
+Why?
+
+Why did they torture him? Why not kill him outright, have done with it?
+He shuddered, and struggled to his feet, staring about him in horror.
+
+It was not a well, but a small room, circular, with little rivulets of
+stale water running down the granite walls. The ceiling closed low over
+his head, and the only source of light came from the single doorway
+opening into a long, low stone passageway.
+
+Wave after wave of panic rose in Harry's throat. Each time he fought
+down the urge to scream, to lie down on the ground and cover his face
+with his hands and scream in helpless fear. How could they have known
+the horror that lay in his own mind, the horror of darkness, of damp
+slimy walls and scurrying rodents, of the clinging, stale humidity of
+dungeon passageways? He himself had seldom recalled it, except in his
+most hideous dreams, yet he had known such fear as a boy, so many years
+ago, and now it was all around him. They had known somehow and _used it
+against him_.
+
+Why?
+
+He sank down on the floor, his head in his hands, trying to think
+straight, to find some clue in the turmoil bubbling through his mind
+that would tell him what had happened.
+
+He had started down the hallway from his room, to find Dr. Webber and
+tell him about the other people--
+
+He stopped short, looked up wide-eyed. _Had_ he been going to Dr.
+Webber? Had he actually decided to go? Perhaps--yes, perhaps he had,
+though Webber would only laugh at such a ridiculous story. But the
+not-men who had hunted him would not laugh; to them, it would not be
+funny. They knew that it was true. And they knew he knew it was true.
+
+_But why not kill him?_ Why this torture? Why this horrible persecution
+that dug into the depths of his own nightmares to haunt him?
+
+His breath came fast and a chilly sweat broke out on his forehead.
+_Where_ was he? Was this some long forgotten vault in the depths of the
+Old City? Or was this another place, another world, perhaps, that the
+not-men, with their impossible powers, had created to torture him?
+
+His eyes sought the end of the hall, saw the turn at the end, saw the
+light which seemed to come from the end; and then in an instant he was
+running down the damp passageway, his pulse pounding at his temples,
+until he could hardly gasp enough breath as he ran. Finally he reached
+the turn in the corridor where the light was brighter, and he swung
+around to stare at the source of the light, a huge, burning, smoky torch
+which hung from the wall.
+
+Even as he looked at it, the torch went out, shutting him into inky
+blackness. The only sound at first was the desperation of his own
+breath; then he heard little scurrying sounds around his feet, and
+screamed involuntarily as something sleek and four-footed jumped at his
+chest with snapping jaws.
+
+Shuddering, he fought the thing off, his fingers closing on wiry fur as
+he caught and squeezed. The thing went limp, and suddenly melted in his
+hands. He heard it splash as it struck the damp ground at his feet.
+
+_What were they doing to his mind?_
+
+He screamed out in horror, and followed the echoes of his own scream as
+he ran down the stone corridor, blindly, slipping on the wet stone
+floor, falling on his knees into inches of brackish water, scraping back
+to his feet with an uncontrollable convulsion of fear and loathing, only
+to run more--
+
+The corridor suddenly broke into two and he stopped short. He didn't
+know how far, or how long, he had run, but it suddenly occurred to him
+that he was still alive, still safe. Only his mind was under attack,
+only his mind was afraid, teetering on the edge of control. And this
+maze of dungeon tunnels--where could such a thing exist, so perfectly
+outfitted to horrify him, so neatly fitting into his own pattern of
+childhood fears and terrors; from where could such a _very individual_
+attack on his sanity have sprung? From nowhere except....
+
+_Except from his own mind!_
+
+For an instant, he saw a flicker of light, thought he grasped the edge
+of a concept previously obscure to him. He stared around him, at the
+mist swirling down the damp, dark corridor, and thought of the rat that
+had melted in his hand. Suddenly, his mind was afire, searching through
+his experience with the strange not-men he had learned to detect, trying
+to remember everything he had learned and deduced about them before they
+began their brutal persecution.
+
+They were men, and they looked like men, but they were different. They
+had other properties of mind, other capabilities that men did not have.
+
+They were not-men. They could exist, and co-exist, two people in one
+frame, one person known, realized by all who saw, the other one
+concealed except from those who learned how to look. They could use
+their minds; they could rationalize correctly; they could use their
+curious four-dimensional knowledge to bring them to answers no
+three-dimensional man could reach.
+
+_But they couldn't project into men's minds!_
+
+Carefully, Harry peered down the misty tunnels. They were clever, these
+creatures, and powerful. Since they had discovered that he knew them,
+they had done their work of fear and terror on his mind skillfully. But
+they were limited, too; they couldn't make things happen that were not
+true--fantasies, illusions....
+
+Yes, this dungeon was an illusion. It _had_ to be.
+
+He cursed and started down the right-hand corridor, his heart sinking.
+There was no such place and he knew it. He was walking in a dream, a
+fantasy that had no substance, that could do no more than frighten him,
+drive him insane; yet he must already have lost his mind to be accepting
+such an illusion.
+
+Why had he delayed? Why hadn't he gone to the Hoffman Center, laid the
+whole story before Dr. Webber and Dr. Manelli at the very first, told
+them what he had found? True, they might have thought him insane, but
+they wouldn't have put him to torture. They might even have believed him
+enough to investigate what he told them, and then the cat would have
+been out of the bag. The tale would have been incredible, but at least
+his mind would have been safe.
+
+He turned down another corridor and walked suddenly into waist-deep
+water, so cold it numbed his legs. He stopped again to force back the
+tendrils of unreasoning horror that brushed his mind. Nothing could
+really harm him. He would merely wait until his mind finally reached a
+balance again. There might be no end; it might be a ghastly trap, but he
+would wait.
+
+Strangely, the mist was becoming greenish in color as it swirled toward
+him in the damp vaulted passageway. His eyes began watering a little and
+the lining of his nose started to burn. He stopped short, newly alarmed,
+and stared at the walls, rubbing the tears away to clear his vision. The
+greenish-yellow haze grew thicker, catching his eyes and burning like a
+thousand furies, ripping into his throat until he was choking and
+coughing, as though great knives sliced through his lungs.
+
+He tried to scream, and started running, blindly. Each gasping breath
+was an agony as the blistering gas dug deeper and deeper into his lungs.
+Reason departed from him; he was screaming incoherently as he stumbled
+up a stony ramp, crashed into a wall, spun around and smashed blindly
+into another. Then something caught at his shirt.
+
+He felt the heavy planks and pounded iron scrollwork of a huge door, and
+threw himself upon it, wrenching at the old latch until the door swung
+open with a screech of rusty hinges. He fell forward on his face, and
+the door swung shut behind him.
+
+He lay face down, panting and sobbing in the stillness.
+
+Coarse hands grasped his collar, jerking him rudely to his feet, and he
+opened his eyes. Across the dim, vaulted room he could see the shadowy
+form of a man, a big man, with a broad chest and powerful shoulders, a
+man whose rich voice Harry almost recognized, but whose face was deep in
+shadow. As Harry wiped the tears from his tortured eyes, he heard the
+man's voice rumble out at him:
+
+"Perhaps you've had enough now to change your mind about telling us the
+truth."
+
+Harry stared, not quite comprehending. "The--the truth?"
+
+The man's voice was harsh, cutting across the room impatiently. "The
+truth, I said. The problem, you fool, what you saw, what you learned;
+you know perfectly well what I'm referring to. But we'll swallow no more
+of this silly four-dimensional superman tale, so don't bother to start
+it."
+
+"I--I don't understand you. It's--it's true--" Again he tried to peer
+across the room. "Why are you hunting me like this? What are you trying
+to do to me?"
+
+"We want the truth. We want to know what you saw."
+
+"But--but _you're_ what I saw. You know what I found out. I mean--" He
+stopped, his face going white. His hand went to his mouth, and he
+stared still harder. "Who are you?" he whispered.
+
+"The truth!" the man roared. "You'd better be quick, or you'll be back
+in the corridor."
+
+"_Webber!_"
+
+"Your last chance, Harry."
+
+Without warning, Harry was across the room, flying across the desk,
+crashing into the big man's chest. With a scream of fury he fought,
+driving his fists into the powerful chest, wrenching at the thick,
+flailing arms of the startled man.
+
+"_It's you!_" he screamed. "It's you that's been torturing me. It's you
+that's been hunting me down all this time, not the other people, you and
+your crowd of ghouls have been at my throat!"
+
+He threw the big man off balance, dropped heavily on him as he fell back
+to the ground, glared down into the other's angry brown eyes.
+
+And then, as though he had never been there at all, the big man
+vanished, and Harry sat back on the floor, his whole body shaking with
+frustrated sobs as his mind twisted in anguish.
+
+He had been wrong, completely wrong, ever since he had discovered the
+not-men. Because he had thought _they_ had been the ones who hunted and
+tortured him for so long. And now he knew how far he had been wrong. For
+the face of the shadowy man, the man behind the nightmare he was living,
+was the face of Dr. George Webber.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"You're a fool," said Dr. Manelli sharply, as he turned away from the
+sleeping figure on the bed to face the older man. "Of all the ridiculous
+things, to let him connect you with this!" The young doctor turned
+abruptly and sank down in a chair, glowering at Dr. Webber. "You haven't
+gotten to first base yet, but you've just given Scott enough evidence
+to free himself from integrator control altogether, if he gives it any
+thought. But I suppose you realize that."
+
+"Nonsense," Dr. Webber retorted. "He had enough information to do that
+when we first started. I'm no more worried now than I was then. I'm sure
+he doesn't know enough about the psycho-integrator to be able
+voluntarily to control the patient-operator relationship to any degree.
+Oh, no, he's safe enough. But you've missed the whole point of that
+little interview." Dr. Webber grinned at Manelli.
+
+"I'm afraid I have. It looked to me like useless bravado."
+
+"The persecution, man, the _persecution_! He's shifted his sights!
+Before that interview, the _not-men_ were torturing him, remember?
+Because they were afraid he would report his findings to me, of course.
+But now it's _I_ that's against him." The grin widened. "You see where
+that leads?"
+
+"You're talking almost as though you believed this story about a
+different sort of people among us."
+
+Dr. Webber shrugged. "Perhaps I do."
+
+"Oh, come now, George."
+
+Dr. Webber's eyebrows went up and the grin disappeared from his face.
+
+"Harry Scott believes it, Frank. We mustn't forget that, or miss its
+significance. Before Harry started this investigation of his, he
+wouldn't have paid any attention to such nonsense. But he believes it
+now."
+
+"But Harry Scott is insane. You said it yourself."
+
+"Ah, yes," said Dr. Webber. "Insane. Just like the others who started to
+get somewhere along those lines of investigation. Try to analyze the
+growing incidence of insanity in the population and you yourself go
+insane. You've got to be crazy to be a psychiatrist. It's an old joke,
+but it isn't very funny any more. And it's too much for coincidence.
+
+"And then consider the nature of the insanity--a full-blown
+paranoia--oh, it's amazing. A cunning organization of men who are
+_not_-men, a regular fairy story, all straight from Harry Scott's agile
+young mind. But now it's _we_ who are persecuting him, _and he still
+believes his fairy tale_."
+
+"So?"
+
+Dr. Webber's eyes flashed angrily. "It's too neat, Frank. It's clever,
+and it's powerful, whatever we've run up against. But I think we've got
+an ace in the hole. We have Harry Scott."
+
+"And you really think he'll lead us somewhere?"
+
+Dr. Webber laughed. "That door I spoke of that Harry peeked through, I
+think he'll go back to it again. I think he's started to open that door
+already. And this time I'm going to follow him through."
+
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+It seemed incredible, yet Harry Scott knew he had not been mistaken. It
+had been Dr. Webber's face he had seen, a face no one could forget, an
+unmistakable face. And that meant that it had been Dr. Webber who had
+been persecuting him.
+
+But why? He had been going to report to Webber when he had run into that
+golden field in the rooming-house hallway. And suddenly things had
+changed.
+
+Harry felt a chill reaching to his fingers and toes. Yes, something had
+changed, all right. The attack on him had suddenly become butcherous,
+cruel, sneaking into his mind somehow to use his most dreaded nightmares
+against him. There was no telling what new horrors might be waiting for
+him. But he knew that he would lose his mind unless he could find an
+escape.
+
+He was on his feet, his heart pounding. He had to get out of here,
+wherever he was. He had to get back to town, back to the city, back to
+where people were. If he could find a place to hide, a place where he
+could rest, he could try to think his way out of this ridiculous maze,
+or at least try to understand it.
+
+He wrenched at the door to the passageway, started through, and smashed
+face-up against a solid brick wall.
+
+He cried out and jumped back from the wall. Blood trickled from his
+nose. The door was _walled up_, the mortar dry and hard.
+
+Frantically, he glanced around the room. There were no other doors, only
+the row of tiny windows around the ceiling of the room, pale, ghostly
+squares of light.
+
+He pulled the chair over to the windows, peered out through the
+cobwebbed openings to the corridor beyond.
+
+It was not the same hallway as before, but an old, dirty building
+corridor, incredibly aged, with bricks sagging away from the walls. At
+the end he could see stairs, and even the faintest hint of sunlight
+coming from above.
+
+Wildly, he tore at the masonry of the window, chipping away at the soggy
+mortar with his fingers until he could squeeze through the opening. He
+fell to the floor of the corridor outside.
+
+It was much colder and the silence was no longer so intense. He seemed
+to feel, rather than hear, the surging power, the rumble of many
+machines, the little, almost palpable vibrations from far above him.
+
+He started in a dead run down the musty corridor to the stairs and began
+to climb them, almost stumbling over himself in his eagerness.
+
+After several flights, the brick walls gave way to cleaner plastic, and
+suddenly a brightly lighted corridor stretched before him.
+
+Panting from the climb, Harry ran down the corridor to the end, wrenched
+open a door, and looked out anxiously.
+
+He was almost stunned by the bright light. At first he couldn't orient
+himself as he stared down at the metal ramp, the moving strips of
+glowing metal carrying the throngs of people, sliding along the
+thoroughfare before him, unaware of him watching, unaware of any change
+from the usual. The towering buildings before him rose to unbelievable
+heights, bathed in ever-changing rainbow colors, and he felt his pulse
+thumping in his temples as he gaped.
+
+He was in the New City, of that there was no doubt. This was the part of
+the great metropolis which had been built again since the devastating
+war that had nearly wiped the city from the Earth a decade before. These
+were the moving streets, the beautiful residential apartments, following
+the modern neo-functional patterns and participational design which had
+completely altered the pattern of city living. The Old City still
+remained, of course--the slums, the tenements, the skid-rows of the
+metropolis--but this was the teeming heart of the city, a new home for
+men to live in.
+
+And this was the stronghold where the not-men could be found, too. The
+thought cut through Harry's mind, sending a tremor up his spine. He had
+found them here; he had uncovered his first clues here, and discovered
+them; and even now his mind was filled with the horrible, paralyzing
+fear he had felt that first night when he had made the discovery. Yet he
+knew now that he dared not go back where he had come from.
+
+At least he could understand why the not-men might have feared and
+persecuted him, but he could not understand the horrible assault that
+Dr. Webber had unleashed. And somehow he found Dr. Webber's attack
+infinitely more frightening.
+
+He seemed to be safe here, though, at least for the moment.
+
+Quickly he moved down onto the nearest moving sidewalk heading toward
+the living section of the New City. He knew where he could go there,
+where he could lock himself in, a place where he could think, possibly
+find a way to fight off Dr. Webber's attack of nightmares.
+
+He settled back on a bench on the moving sidewalk, watching the city
+slide past him for several minutes before he noticed the curious
+shadow-form which seemed to whisk out of his field of vision every time
+he looked.
+
+They were following him again! He looked around wildly as the sidewalk
+moved swiftly through the cool evening air. Far above, he could see the
+shimmering, iridescent screen that still stood to protect the New City
+from the devastating virus attacks which might again strike down from
+the skies without warning. Far ahead he could see the magnificent
+"bridge" formed by the sidewalk crossing over to the apartment area,
+where the thousands who worked in the New City were returning to their
+homes.
+
+Someone was still following him.
+
+Presently he heard the sound, so close to his ear he jumped, yet so
+small he could hardly identify it as a human voice. "What was it you
+found, Harry? What did you discover? Better tell, better tell."
+
+He saw the rift in the moving sidewalk coming, far ahead, a great,
+gaping rent in the metal fabric of the swiftly moving escalator, as if a
+huge blade were slicing it down the middle. Harry's hand went to his
+mouth, choking back a scream as the hole moved with incredible rapidity
+down the center of the strip, swallowing up whole rows of the seats,
+moving straight toward his own.
+
+He glanced in fright over the side just as the sidewalk moved out onto
+the "bridge," and he gasped as he saw the towering canyons of buildings
+fall far below, saw the seats tumble end over end, heard the sounds of
+screaming blend into the roar of air by his ears.
+
+Then the rift screamed by him with a demoniac whine and he sank back
+onto his bench, gasping as the two cloven halves of the strip clanged
+back together again.
+
+He stared at the people around him on the strip and they stared back at
+him, mildly, unperturbed, and returned to their evening papers as the
+strip passed through the first local station on the other side of the
+"bridge."
+
+Harry Scott sprang to his feet, moving swiftly across the slower strips
+for the exit channels. He noted the station stop vaguely, but his only
+thought now was speed, desperate speed, fear-driven speed to put into
+action the plan that had suddenly burst in his mind.
+
+He knew that he had reached his limit. He had come to a point beyond
+which he couldn't fight alone.
+
+Somehow, Webber had burrowed into his brain, laid his mind open to
+attacks of nightmare and madness that he could never hope to fight.
+Facing this alone, he would lose his mind. His only hope was to go for
+help to the ones he feared only slightly less, the ones who had minds
+capable of fighting back for him.
+
+He crossed under the moveable sidewalks and boarded the one going back
+into the heart of the city. Somewhere there, he hoped, he would find the
+help he needed. Somewhere back in that city were men he had discovered
+who were men and something more.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank Manelli carefully took the blood pressure of the sleeping figure
+on the bed; then turned to the other man. "He'll be dead soon," he
+snapped. "Another few minutes now is all it'll take. Just a few more."
+
+"Absurd. There's nothing in these stimuli that can kill him." George
+Webber sat tense, his eyes fixed on the pale fluctuating screen near the
+head of the bed.
+
+"His own mind can kill him! He's on the run now; you've broken him loose
+from his nice safe paranoia. His mind is retreating, running back to
+some other delusions. It's escaping to the safety his fantasy people can
+afford him, these not-men he thinks about."
+
+"Yes, yes," agreed Dr. Webber, his eyes eager. "Oh, he's on the run
+now."
+
+"But what will he do when he finds there aren't any 'not-men' to save
+him? What will he do then?"
+
+Webber looked up, frowning and grim. "Then we'll know what he found
+behind the dark door that he opened, that's what."
+
+"No, you're wrong! He'll die. He'll find nothing and the shock will
+kill him. My God, Webber, you can't tamper with a man's mind like this
+and hope to save his life! You're obsessed; you've always been obsessed
+by this impossible search for something in our society, some
+undiscovered factor to account for the mental illness, the divergent
+minds, but you can't kill a man to trace it down!"
+
+"It's too neat," said Webber. "He comes back to tell us the truth, and
+we call him insane. We say he's paranoid, throw him in restraint, place
+him in an asylum; and we never _know_ what he found. The truth is too
+incredible; when we hear it, it must be insanity we're hearing."
+
+The big doctor laughed, jabbing his thumb at the screen. "This isn't
+insanity we're seeing. Oh, no, this is the answer we're following. I
+won't stop now. I've waited too long for this show."
+
+"Well, I say stop it while he's still alive."
+
+Dr. Webber's eyes were deadly. "Get out, Frank," he said softly. "I'm
+not stopping now."
+
+His eyes returned to the screen, to the bobbing figure that the
+psycho-integrator traced on the fluorescent background. Twenty years of
+search had led him here, and now he knew the end was at hand.
+
+
+
+
+5
+
+
+It was a wild, nightmarish journey. At every step, Harry's senses
+betrayed him: his wrist watch turned into a brilliant blue-green snake
+that snapped at his wrist; the air was full of snarling creatures that
+threatened him at every step. But he fought them off, knowing that they
+would harm him far less than panic would. He had no idea where to hunt,
+nor whom to try to reach, but he knew they were there in the New City,
+and somehow he knew they would help him, if only he could find them.
+
+He got off the moving strip as soon as the lights of the center of the
+city were clear below, and stepped into the self-operated lift that
+sped down to ground level. From the elevator, he moved on to one of the
+long, honeycombed concourses, filled with passing shoppers who stared at
+the colorful, enticing three-dimensional displays.
+
+At one of the intersections ahead, he spotted a visiphone station, and
+dropped onto the little seat before the screen. There had been a number,
+if only he could recall it. But as he started to dial, the silvery
+screen shattered into a thousand sparkling glass chips, showering the
+floor with crystal and sparks.
+
+Harry cursed, grabbed the hand instrument, and jangled frantically for
+the operator. Before she could answer, the instrument grew warm in his
+hand, then hot and soft, like wax. Slowly, it melted and ran down his
+arm.
+
+He bolted out into the stream of people, trying desperately to draw some
+comfort from the crowd around him.
+
+He felt utterly alone; he _had_ to contact the not-men who were in the
+city, warn them, before they spotted him, of the attack he carried with
+him. If he were leading his pursuer, he could expect no mercy from the
+ones whose help he sought. He knew the lengths to which they would go to
+remain undetected in the society around them. Yet he had to find them.
+
+In the distance, he saw a figure waiting, back against one of the show
+windows. Harry stopped short, ducked into a doorway, and peered out
+fearfully. Their eyes locked for an instant; then the figure moved on.
+Harry felt a jolt of horror surge through him. Dr. Webber hunting him in
+person!
+
+He ducked out of the doorway, turned and ran madly in the opposite
+direction, searching for an up escalator he could catch. Behind him he
+heard shots, heard the angry whine of bullets past his ear.
+
+He breathed in great, gasping sobs as he found an almost empty
+escalator, and bounded up it four steps at a time. Below, he could see
+Webber coming too, his broad shoulders forcing their way relentlessly
+through the mill of people.
+
+Panting, Harry reached the top, checked his location against a wall map,
+and started down the long ramp which led toward the building he had
+tried to call.
+
+Another shot broke out behind him. The wall alongside powdered away,
+leaving a gaping hole. On impulse, he leaped into the hole, running
+through to the rear of the building as the weakened wall swayed and
+crumbled into a heap of rubble just as Webber reached the place Harry
+had entered.
+
+Harry breathed a sigh of relief and raced up the stairs of the building
+to reach a ramp on another level. He turned his eyes toward the tall
+building at the end of the concourse. There he could hide and relax and
+try, somehow, to make a contact.
+
+Someone fell into step beside him and took his arm gently but firmly.
+Harry jerked away, turning terrified eyes to the one who had joined him.
+
+"Quiet," said the man, steering him over toward the edge of the
+concourse. "Not a sound. You'll be all right."
+
+Harry felt a tremor pass through his mind, the barest touching of mental
+fingertips, a recognition that sent a surge of eager blood through his
+heart.
+
+He stopped short, facing the man. "I'm being followed," he gasped. "You
+can't take me anywhere you don't want Webber to follow, or you'll be in
+terrible danger."
+
+The stranger shrugged and smiled briefly. "You're not here. You're in a
+psycho-integrator. It can hurt you, if you let it. But it can't hurt
+me." He stepped up his pace slightly, and in a moment they turned
+abruptly into a darkened cul-de-sac.
+
+Suddenly, they were moving _through_ the wall of the building into the
+brilliantly lit lobby of the tall building. Harry gasped, but the
+stranger led him without a sound toward the elevator, stepped aboard
+with him, and sped upward, the silence broken only by the
+whish-whish-whish of the passing floors. Finally they stepped out into a
+quiet corridor and down through a small office door.
+
+A man sat behind the desk in the office, his face quiet, his eyes very
+wide and dark. He hardly glanced at Harry, but turned his eyes to the
+other man.
+
+"Set?" he asked.
+
+"Couldn't miss now."
+
+The man nodded and looked at last at Harry. "You're upset," he murmured.
+"What's bothering you?"
+
+"Webber," said Harry hoarsely. "He's following me here. He'll spot you.
+I tried to warn you before I came, but I couldn't."
+
+The man at the desk smiled. "Webber again, eh? Our old friend Webber.
+That's all right. Webber's at the end of his tether. There's nothing he
+can do to stop us. He's trying to attack with force, and he fails to
+realize that time and thought are on our side. The time when force would
+have succeeded against us is long past. But now there are many of us,
+almost as many as not."
+
+Harry stared shrewdly at the man behind the desk. "Then why are you so
+afraid of Webber?" he asked.
+
+"Afraid?"
+
+"You know you are. Long ago you threatened me, if I reported to him. You
+watched me, played with me. Why are you afraid of him?"
+
+The man sighed. "Webber is premature. We are stalling for time, that's
+all. We wait. We have grown from so very few, back in the 1940s and 50s,
+but the time for quiet usurpation of power has not quite arrived. But
+men like Webber force our hand, discover us, try to expose us."
+
+Harry Scott's face was white, his hands shaking. "And what do you do to
+them?"
+
+"We--deal with them."
+
+"And those like me?"
+
+The man smiled lopsidedly. "Those like Paulus and Wineberg and the
+rest--they're happy, really, like little children. But one like you is
+so much more useful." He pointed almost apologetically to the small
+screen on his desk.
+
+Harry looked at it, realization dawning. He watched the huge,
+broad-shouldered figure moving down the hallway toward the door.
+
+"Webber was dangerous to you?"
+
+"Unbelievably dangerous. So dangerous we would use any means to trap
+him."
+
+Suddenly the door burst open and there stood Webber, a triumphant
+Webber, face flushed, eyes wide, as he stared at the man behind the
+desk.
+
+The man smiled back and said, "Come on in, George. We've been waiting
+for you."
+
+Webber stepped through the door. "Manelli, you fool!"
+
+There was a blinding flash as he crossed the threshold. A faint crackle
+of sound reached Harry's ears; then the world blacked out....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It might have been minutes, or hours, or days. The man who had been
+behind the desk was leaning over Harry, smiling down at him, gently
+bandaging the trephine wounds at his temples.
+
+"Gently," he said, as Harry tried to sit up. "Don't try to move. You've
+been through a rough time."
+
+Harry peered up at him. "You're--not Dr. Webber."
+
+"No. I'm Dr. Manelli. Dr. Webber's been called away--an accident. He'll
+be some time recovering. I'll be taking care of you."
+
+Vaguely, Harry was aware that something was peculiar, something not
+quite as it should be. The answer slowly dawned on him.
+
+"The statistical analysis!" he exclaimed. "I was supposed to get some
+data from Dr. Webber about an analysis, something about rising insanity
+rates."
+
+Dr. Manelli looked blank. "Insanity rates? You must be mistaken. You
+were brought here for an immunity examination, nothing more. But you
+can check with Dr. Webber, when he gets back."
+
+
+
+
+6
+
+
+George Webber sat in the little room, trembling, listening, his eyes
+wide in the thick, misty darkness. He knew it would be a matter of time
+now. He couldn't run much farther. He hadn't seen them, true. Oh, they
+had been very clever, but they thought they were dealing with a fool,
+and they weren't. He _knew_ they'd been following him; he'd known it for
+a long time now.
+
+It was just as he had been telling the man downstairs the night before:
+they were everywhere--your neighbor upstairs, the butcher on the corner,
+your own son or daughter, maybe even the man you were talking
+to--_everywhere_!
+
+And of course he had to warn as many people as he possibly could before
+_they_ caught him, throttled him off, as they had threatened to if he
+talked to anyone.
+
+If only the people would _listen_ to him when he told them how cleverly
+it was all planned, how it would only be a matter of months, maybe only
+weeks or days before the change would happen, and the world would be
+quietly, silently taken over by the _other_ people, the different people
+who could walk through walls and think in impossibly complex channels.
+And no one would know the difference, because business would go on as
+usual.
+
+He shivered, sinking down lower on the bed. If only people would listen
+to him--
+
+It wouldn't be long now. He had heard the stealthy footsteps on the
+landing below his room some time ago. This was the night they had chosen
+to make good their threats, to choke off his dangerous voice once and
+for all. There were footsteps on the stairs now, growing louder.
+
+Wildly he glanced around the room as the steps moved down the hall
+toward his door. He rushed to the window, threw up the sash and
+screamed hoarsely to the silent street below: "Look out! They're here,
+all around us! They're planning to take over! Look out! Look out!"
+
+The door burst open and there were two men moving toward him,
+grim-faced, dressed in white; tall, strong men with sad faces and strong
+arms.
+
+One was saying, "Better come quietly, mister. No need to wake up the
+whole town."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dark Door, by Alan Edward Nourse
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DARK DOOR ***
+
+***** This file should be named 22869.txt or 22869.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/8/6/22869/
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://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
+http://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, is 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 http://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
+http://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 http://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 http://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 checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is 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:
+
+     http://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.