diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29727-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 196675 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29727-h/29727-h.htm | 2053 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29727-h/images/001.png | bin | 0 -> 38008 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29727-h/images/002-1.jpg | bin | 0 -> 18332 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29727-h/images/002-2.jpg | bin | 0 -> 109076 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29727.txt | 1521 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29727.zip | bin | 0 -> 29741 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
10 files changed, 3590 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29727-h.zip b/29727-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd2d6c3 --- /dev/null +++ b/29727-h.zip diff --git a/29727-h/29727-h.htm b/29727-h/29727-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7fdda54 --- /dev/null +++ b/29727-h/29727-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2053 @@ +<!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 Zero Data, by Charles Saphro + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2,h3 {text-align: center; font-weight: normal;} + h3 {margin: 2em auto 1em;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 1em auto; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin: 1em 0 1em 1em; padding: 0; width: 334px; text-align: center;} + img {border: none;} + a:link,a:visited {text-decoration: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em; width: auto;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .figt {float: left; clear: left; margin: 15px; padding: 0; width: 140px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; min-height: 230px;} + .trn p {margin: 15px;} + .bk1 {margin: 2em auto; width: 30em;} + .sp1 {font-size: 200%;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Zero Data, by Charles Saphro + +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: Zero Data + +Author: Charles Saphro + +Release Date: August 19, 2009 [EBook #29727] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ZERO DATA *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1><span class="sp1">ZERO DATA</span></h1> + +<h2><small>By CHARLES SAPHRO</small></h2> + +<div class="bk1"><p><i><big>All the intricate, electronic witchery of the 21st century could not +pin guilt on fabulous Lonnie Raichi, the irreproachable philanthropist. +But Jason, the cop, was sweating it out ... searching +for that fourth and final and all-knowing rule that would knock +Lonnie's "triple ethic" for a gala loop.</big></i></p></div> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Lonnie Raichi</span> was small, heavily +built, wet-eyed, dapper and successful. +His success he attributed entirely to +his philosophy.</p> + +<p>Not knowing about Lonnie's philosophy, +the whole twenty-odd years of Lonnie's +success was the abiding crux of Jason's +disgust. And this, in spite of the more and +more men Jason came to control and the +fitful stream of new techniques and equipment +Gov-Pol and Gov-Mil Labs put at his +disposal.</p> + +<p>Jason was a cop. In fact, by this Friday +the thirteenth in the fall of 2009, squirming +on what had come to be his pet Gov-Park +bench right across from the Tiara of +Wold in the Fane, he was only one step +short of being the Head Cop of Government +City. He was good. Gathering in a lot of +criminals was what had brought him up the +steps.</p> + +<p>But he hadn't gathered in Lonnie.</p> + +<p>It wasn't for lack for trying. Way back, +when Lonnie was known simply as +"Lonnie," Jason managed to get a little +help from his associates and superiors. +Sometimes.</p> + +<p>But as Lonnie came to be known as Lon +Raichi, then Mr. Raichi, and finally as +"THE Launcelot Raichi" (to Everyone Who +Mattered), and as Jason's promotions kept +pace with his widening experience and painstakingly +acquired knowledge; peculiarly, +there seemed to be fewer and fewer persons +around who could be made interested in +"Lonnie."</p> + +<p>Inside Government and Gov-Pol-Anx as +well as among the general Two-Worlds +public.</p> + +<p>So Jason got less and less help, or even +passive cooperation, from his superiors. As +a matter of fact, the more men he could +command, the fewer he could use on anything +that could be construed as concerning +Lonnie.</p> + +<p>Equipment, though, was a little different +matter. There was usually enough so that +one unit of a kind could be unobtrusively +trained on Mr. Raichi under the care of +Jason's own desk sergeant. In 1999, for +example, Moglaut, that erratic and secretive +genius in Physlab Nine, came out with a +quantum analyzer and probability reproducer. +The machine installed in Pol-Anx, +reconstructed crimes and identified the +probable criminals by their modus operandi +and the physical traces they couldn't avoid +leaving at the un-mercy of any of its portable +data accumulators.</p> + +<p>On Jason's first attempt it almost came +close to Lonnie. It did gather in the hidden, +dead, still twitching, completely uncommunicative +carcasses of the five men who actually +relieved the vault of the Citizen's Bank of +Berlin of its clutch of millions. It even +identified the body of the rocopilot found +floating in the Potomac a few days later +as being one of the group, and the killer. +It did <i>not</i> locate the arsonized remnants of +the plane, though, nor the currency; and +only achieved the casting of a slight, or +subsidiary, third-hand aspersion in the +direction of THE Launcelot Raichi.</p> + +<p>But Lonnie came up with an irrefutable +alibi, somehow, and the hassle that followed +made Jason's luck run out. And on Jason's +stubborn, secret, subsequent tries, all the +analyzer could produce was a report of zero +data whenever Jason, reasonably or unreasonably, +believed that Lonnie was involved.</p> + +<p>Every time.</p> + +<p>Zero data when Schicklehitler's marshal's +baton disappeared from the British Museum.</p> + +<div class="figright"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="334" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +<small><b><i>Lonnie on his dream throne ... Jason at his instruments. +Was the struggle endless between these two?</i></b></small></div> + +<p>Zero data when Charlemagne's Crown +lapsed unobtrusively from its shrine in +Vienna during the Year 2000 Celebration.</p> + +<p>Subsequently, Jason realized that the +Berlin job in 1999 had marked Lonnie's +last essay after money. Other things seemed +to occupy Lonnie's mind after he'd sprouted +publicly into the status of full-fledged, +hyper-respectable, inter-planetary business +tycoon; complete with a many-tentacled +industrial organization in Moon Colony and +a far-flung prospecting unit headquartering +at Mars Equatorial.</p> + +<p>Tycoonship was a status with which +Everyone Who Mattered was always +pleased.</p> + +<p>Jason's next attempt on Lonnie had to +wait until 2005 and was the result of two +unconnected circumstances. The first was +Physlab Nine's secretive genius, Moglaut, +evolving another piece of equipment, a disarmer, +which, subsequent to its first use, +saved countless cops' lives. The second was +the discovery in the Valley of Kings, of +Amenhotep III's own personal official +Uraeus. Positively identified beyond the +shadow of doubt.</p> + +<p>Jason, playing the hunch he'd built up +about Lonnie, rushed a man, armed with +the brand new disarmer, instantly to the +scene.</p> + +<p>The next morning, Amenhotep's Uraeus +was gone and the corpse of Jason's man was +found—part of it. The right hand, arm, +shoulder, and most of the head were missing; +burned away. And of the disarmer, +only a fused hunk of mixed metals and +silver helix remained.</p> + +<p>And the analyzer reported zero data.</p> + +<p>Lab Nine's taciturn and exasperating +Moglaut failed to derive an explanation for +either circumstance.</p> + +<p>"I won't shut up," Jason said, standing +on the carpet in front of his superior. "He +did it. I don't know how, but he did."</p> + +<p>Another spasm of frustration shook him +and he slammed his fist down on the sacred +desk. "I've known Lonnie all my life. I +know he doesn't know phfut about anything +scientific, and yet he makes a horse's—"</p> + +<p>"Captain Jason, I insist that you stop +referring to—"</p> + +<p>"Makes a—" Jason raised his voice, +"horse's—"</p> + +<p>"CAPTAIN JASON!"</p> + +<p>Jason subsided.</p> + +<p>"Captain, Annex has been most forbearing +all these years. We've overlooked your +incomprehensible phobia—this—this confoundedly +unfounded impossible bias +against such an irreproachable philanthropist +as Launcelot Raichi—because of the sterling +quality of your ... ah ... other work. However—"</p> + +<p>On the desk, the Commissioner's fingers +took up a measured tattoo. "—should this +fixed idea begin to encroach on—uh—uh—"</p> + +<p>"All right ... Sir." Sullenly, Jason submitted. +"I understand."</p> + +<p>With a self-congratulatory smirk up at +the ceiling that separated them from Executive +Level, the bland face of the Commissioner +smoothed out. "All right, Captain, +as long as we understand each other ..."</p> + +<p>Sourly, Jason got himself back to his own +office. Drumming his own fingers on his +own desk and glaring at his own desk +sergeant, he purged his soul.</p> + +<p>"—damned equipment would only work, +I'd gather him in! They couldn't stop me, +then! But—" Jason choked. When he could +speak again, "He's never studied a lick in +his life, I tell you! Yet he makes a he-cow's +behind out of the best man and the best +scientific equipment Annex can provide! +How? How, I ask you! He doesn't know the +first blasted thing about any blasted thing +in any blasted science!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">That</span> was true. Conversely, Jason didn't +know about Lonnie's philosophy.</p> + +<p>Nowadays, Lonnie called it a "philosophy." +He told reporters it was "based on a +triple ethic." (Inside his skull, a small boy +jumped up and down in glee over the +magnificent language he was able to use.) +But he always replied only with a superior +smile when asked by reporters to put the +philosophy and the triple ethic into words. +If pressed, he paraphrased an Ancient Man: +"You know my works. Judge by them."</p> + +<p>He was referring, of course, to his having +branched out into patronizing the Arts. +He'd even erected Raichi Museum just +across the velvety green circle of Gov-Park +from Government's own Fane of Artifacts.</p> + +<p>The reporters would go away and write +more articles about his modesty and the +superlative treasures of Earth, Moon and +Mars that were gathered in the Raichi +Galleries; protected, the papers always +boasted, by the same ultra-safety mechanisms +that guarded the mile-long, one-gallery-wide, +glass-fronted Fane itself. Government +affably made up two of every anti-break-and-entry +device nowadays. One for the +Fane and the other for Raichi Museum.</p> + +<p>Despite occasional grumbles in the letters-to-the-editor +columns, the papers never +seemed to inquire into why so many priceless +trans-worlds artifacts got into Lonnie's +private ownership instead of Government's +public Fane. And while some artists and +architects (unendowed by Lonnie) succeeded +in publicly proclaiming Raichi +Museum gaudy, such carpings were but +to be expected, particularly from modernists.</p> + +<p>Actually, Everyone Who Mattered felt +Raichi Museum's granite walls were much +more dignified than the narrow, glass-faced +arcade that was the Fane, wide open to the +most disrespectfully casual public inspection +all the time. Why, even late at night gawking +loiterers pressed their noses against the +glass; black, clumsy images pinned to the +blazing whiteness hurled by radionic tubes +against the back wall of snowy marble from +Mars' arctic quarries. Besides, that glass, +proof though it was against anything but +an atomic explosion, still made every true +art lover feel disquietingly insecure.</p> + +<p>No, on the whole, the papers and reporters +and true art lovers who felt the Public's +treasures should be more secure than visible, +never questioned Lonnie's doing good to so +much Art.</p> + +<p>Thus, nowadays, nobody did anything but +accept Lonnie. Except Jason. And he, perforce, +took out his disgust not on hounding +the sacrosanct Lonnie, but on that crackpot, +mumchance, captive genius of Physlab +Nine. With the result that, late in 2007, +Pol-Anx had an electronic servo-tracer.</p> + +<p>Pending construction of sufficient hundreds +of thousands more for full Anx use, +Jason swore Lab Nine to secrecy and installed +the pilot model in his own office. +He had enough authority for that.</p> + +<p>It was a hellishly unbuildable and deceptively +simple gadget, that tracer. Simply +tune it in on the encephalo-aura, the brain +wave pattern of any individual ... and +monitor. It never let go until deliberately +switched off by the operator. It tracked; +pinpointed the subject accurately up to +twenty thousand miles. It stopped humming +and started panting in proportionately ascending +decibels when the subject became +tense, nervous, afraid. It also directed +pocket-sized trackers of its own Damoclean +beam. It made it a cinch to gather in known +criminals in the very midst of their first +subsequent flagrante delicto.</p> + +<p>Jason latched the servo-tracer on Lonnie +and settled down to wait.</p> + +<p>At 10 p.m., local mean time, January +25, 2008, the tracer hiccupped and, all by +itself, <i>went to sleep</i>!</p> + +<p>Jason blinked. Jiggled the gadget. Swore. +Either the gadget was haywire or Lonnie +was up to something, and, as usual, was +making a—</p> + +<p>Jason bawled for four reliable squad men +he'd mentally selected before. If he could +find Lonnie—catch Lonnie in actual performance +of an act—then Commissioner or +no Commissioner, Executive Level or no +Executive Level...!</p> + +<p>He roared from Pol-Anx with the men, +past the flank of Government Fane, across +the Park and around the bulk of Raichi +Museum to Lonnie's mansion in its shadow. +Leaped from the gyro-van, sweeping his +men out into a fan for the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>Nothing. Placid. Tree-shadowed, lawn-swept +streets, ebony and silver in the light +the moon reflected from solar space.</p> + +<p>He'd missed. Too late. Lonnie was gone ... or +was he?</p> + +<p>Jason didn't give himself time to think; +his men time to get even a momentary +hesitation started. He shoved his thumb +hard against the door chimes and his shield +under the butler's nose.</p> + +<p>Yes, Mr. Raichi was at home. Then, after +an interval nicely calculated to allow Jason +to feel how acutely precarious his position +stood, "Mr. Raichi is accessible."</p> + +<p>Lonnie was bland. Blandly accepting +Jason's urgent story of a known ... er ... jewel +thief traced to the neighborhood. +Blandly amenable to Jason's suggestion that +his men be permitted to go over the mansion +(once he'd started this damfool caper, he +had to go through with it). Lonnie so bland +that Jason felt a skitter of perspiration down +his backbone while his men hustled up the +soaring circle of the stair.</p> + +<h3><big>II</big></h3> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">"Since</span> I've been disturbed anyway," +Lonnie offered, "I'll show you +around."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," Jason shook his head stiffly. +"I'll just wait."</p> + +<p>"I think you should come."</p> + +<p>Shrugging, Jason followed, eyes stubbornly +downcast.</p> + +<p>"... my library ... my den ... bar. +Care for a drink? Well, suit yourself." As +the lights of the den dimmed and one wall +swooshed smoothly into the ceiling. "My +theatre ... The usual tri-di stereo, of course, +but I've had a couple of the new tight beams +installed to channel Moon and Mars on the +cube. Much better than the usual staged +bilge. Say, that reminds me, a couple hours +ago Mars projector had a scanner on one +of the exploration parties caught out in a +psychosonic storm. Jove, did they wriggle! +Even in atomsuits they were better than +Messalina Magdalen working on her last +G-string. Here, I'll switch it on. Maybe the +rescue team's—"</p> + +<p>Building up inside the hundreds of thousands +of layers of crystallized plastic came +a reddish, three-dimensional landscape, as +if viewed from a height. Orange dust +swirled across a gaunt, clawed plain under +a transparent pink haze. A feeling as of +sub-visual vibration, emanating from the +cube, tugged at Jason's eyelids.</p> + +<p>No life.</p> + +<p>"—Nope; they've cleaned up the carcasses +already. Too bad. Tell you what, though. +Next time I catch it happening, I'll phone +you and—"</p> + +<p>"Don't bother."</p> + +<p>"Suit yourself." Lonnie shifted and went +on, lightly. "I'm not at all satisfied with the +color, are you? It's off a little, don't you +think?... Well?... Well!"</p> + +<p>Unwillingly, Jason moved his attention +to the cube. Eyes widening, he studied it. +"No. You're wrong. That's good! The tech +who poured that stereo did a damned good +job. It's—"</p> + +<p>"Not good enough for me! That's not +exactly what I saw up at Vulcan City. If +those lazy—"</p> + +<p>"Look, you can't expect exactly the same +reflectivity from crystallized plastic that you +get from molecules of atmosphere, no matter +how scientifically the pouring and layering +is controlled. It's—they're two different +materials. Leaving aside the ion-index differential +and quality of incident light, you +still can't—"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> can ..." As the pause lengthened, +Jason's gaze was finally drawn to Lonnie's +face. "You still haven't changed a bit, have +you, Jasey? Still all wrapped up in <i>how</i> any +collection of doodads work instead of just +for what it'll do. You know, I wouldn't be +surprised if that hasn't always been the +difference between us. Where's it got you?"</p> + +<p>Jason strode for the door.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute." Lonnie's voice came +louder. "Better wait, copper. I'm not +through ... That's better."</p> + +<p>From behind Jason came the sound of +rubbing palms. "We've come a long way +from Gimlet Street, haven't we, Jasey? You +particularly. Captain. Promotions. Pay +raises ..." Then Lonnie was in front of +him, staring up. "You're quite a substantial +citizen now. Yes? Well, look at that. +Go on, look at it."</p> + +<p>Against the side wall stood a gigantic +triptych. More than life size, the central +panel canopied the statue of a Mongol potentate; +the two side wings, a pair of guards +in bas-relief. All three wrought in chryselephantine +gold and ivory; the gold with +flowing pallid highlights. Damascened +armor, encrusted with jewels, girdled the +chest of the Asiatic Prince; helmeted the +sullen head carved from a single immensity +of ivory.</p> + +<p>Ruby eyes glared arrogantly under ebon +brows. Against the statue's folded shins, its +pommel negligently gripped by one immovable, +ivory hand, leaned a short Turkish +scimitar of watered steel. Beneath the carved +hassock upon which the statue sat, a dais of +three steps fell away to the floor.</p> + +<p>"That's Genghis Khan," Lonnie said. "I +had him made. That isn't gold he's made +of; that's aureum—and it cost plenty to have +the silver mixed in. It makes it better. And +I get the best! A hundred thousand, it cost +me. And thirty-six thousand more to brace +the wall and floor. It's good. It's the best +that's made!"</p> + +<p>He came up on tiptoe, thrusting his chin +as close as possible to Jason's averted face. +"Why don't you buy one for your place, +Captain?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Jason</span> stared into the malevolent eyes of +the statue.</p> + +<p>"Huh ... hu-hu ... hu-ha-ha-ha ..." +At the dais, Lonnie put his foot on the +second step and patted Genghis Khan familiarly +on one ivory knee. "I like this old boy. +He had the right idea. I have it. You +haven't. You never had. If you had, you'd'a +listened to the proposition I made you way +back then. Remember when Aggie told you +about it? Say, I wonder what's become of +her, anyway. Do you know? What? What'd +you say?"</p> + +<p>Jason cleared his throat. Hard.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>Jason swallowed. Blood pounded in his +temples.</p> + +<p>"Jasey, you're stupid."</p> + +<p>Jason made his eyes close. Let them re-open +slowly.</p> + +<p>"You were born stupid and you've stayed +stupid."</p> + +<p>Still Jason held back an answer.</p> + +<p>"You're nothing but a stupid, go-where-you're-sent, +do-what-you're-told cop! What +do you say to that! If you want to keep on +being one, answer me! Answer me!"</p> + +<p>Deliberately, Jason jerked his chin at the +statue. "That's another example of what I +mean."</p> + +<p>"<i>What?!!</i>" screamed Lonnie.</p> + +<p>"Reflectivity. The silver in the gold. Two +different metals and where they're not well +fused. That sword blade, too. Just the misalignment +of molecules in the surface of the +steel makes it look wavy, and ripple when +the light changes or you move. Different +even in two parts of the same material. +That's why you can't get the stereo cube to +reproduce color-feel exactly." Breathing +heavily, Jason had to let his voice fade out.</p> + +<p>"Gaaa ..." Lonnie convulsed. "Who +cares!" Laugh sounds rolled out of his +throat. "You'll never change."</p> + +<p>He flicked his hand at Jason, brushing +him away.</p> + +<p>But, as Jason, white-faced, herded his +men out through the costly grandeurs of the +vestibule, Lonnie called from the inner +hall: "Copper ..."</p> + +<p>Jason turned, waited.</p> + +<p>"You amused me, so it's all right this +time. You can keep your penny-ante job. +But don't try for me again. You cross my +path again, I'll smear you. And what's more, +I'll use whatever you're trying, to smear +you with. Get that! Get it good! Now get +out!"</p> + +<p>Back in Jason's office, the desk sergeant +reported as Jason came in. "Funny thing. +That there tracer started to hum again soon +after you was out for a while. Quit again +'bout five minutes ago, though."</p> + +<p>Jason gritted his teeth, banished the sergeant, +and spent five minutes alone gripping +the edge of his desk. Then he yanked Lab +Nine's silent genius down to his office. That +didn't help for the tracer stayed asleep. Not +even a hiccup rewarded Moglaut's most +active efforts on Lonnie's wave length. On +others, fine. Through the night and on into +the next day, Jason kept Moglaut at work.</p> + +<p>Late in the morning, Authority at Peiping +televised publicly that the Mace of Alexander +was gone from its satin pillow in the +proof-glass case in the alarm-wired room +off the machine-weapon-guarded main corridor +of the security-policed Temple of +Mankind.</p> + +<p>The Mace, symbol of Alexander's power, +was a pretty little baton barely two feet +long. Its staff was mastodon ivory, the paleontologists +had determined. One end +sported a solid ball of gold hardly as big +as a fist; studded with rubies, but none set +quite so close as to actually touch.</p> + +<p>The other end, balancing the ball of gold, +mounted the largest single polished emerald +crystal in the discovered universe. Neither +the Moon or Mars had produced anything +in the emerald line equivalent to what had +come out of the mists of Earthly history.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Disregarding</span> the bulletin, Jason +kept Moglaut at the servo-tracer. In +the night's smallest hours it began placidly +to hum on Lonnie's aura again.</p> + +<p>"What happened?" Jason said. "What +did you do?"</p> + +<p>Moglaut shrugged.</p> + +<p>"You must have done something. What +was it?"</p> + +<p>Moglaut, not looking up from the purring +machine, shook his head.</p> + +<p>"All right. You can go now." Jason +watched the genius disappear hurriedly +through the door. From the door he +watched the man scutter down the long, +long corridor out of sight. The first thing +in the morning, Jason promised himself, +he'd have a session about Moglaut with +Lab Nine's chief.</p> + +<p>The first thing in the morning brought +word that Lab Nine's erratic genius had +stumbled himself out of the seventeenth-floor +window of his suburban apartment to +his death. Lab Nine's chief clucked sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>Jason shook his head and wondered. +After exhaustive investigation (zero data) +he still wondered. That's all he was able to +do, wonder.</p> + +<p>The second time Jason's servo-tracer on +Lonnie hiccupped and dozed off was at +12:01 a.m., August 7th, 2008, just one day +after the Diamond Throne arrived on Earth. +The single, glittering diamond crystal, misshapen +like an armchair and larger than +one, had been mined out of the core of +Tycho's crater. And it was also just two +days before the Moon Throne would have +been installed in the unbreakable safety of +Raichi Museum!</p> + +<p>"Jason, you're insane," his superior told +him when Jason, reinforced by an astounding +public furore, brought the matter up. +"He owned it. He had no reason to steal it +from himself. Besides, one man alone +couldn't budge that enormous—"</p> + +<p>"It won't do any harm to look-see."</p> + +<p>"It can do a lot of harm!" The Commissioner +glanced quickly at the ceiling. "I'll +have nothing to do with it. That's all."</p> + +<p>Officially, Jason's hands were tied. But +secretly he maneuvered the transfer of a +five-layers-down undercover man from +Madras to Government City. And, coincidentally, +in the ordinary routine of operation, +Raichi Museum took on a new janitor; +a little brown man who grinned constantly +and was fanatical about dust. He was a +good, reliable man and when he reported +that neither the Diamond Throne nor any +of the other missing glories were anywhere +in the Museum, Jason had to believe him.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, it wouldn't have done +Jason any good to have installed the little +brown man in Lonnie's mansion, either. +The lock—not the apparent one openly in +the den door, but the real one—was as +unobtrusive and foolproof as twenty-first-century +engineering could make it. And +Lonnie always made sure he was alone and +unobserved in the den before he locked it +and sauntered across to bestow a peculiar, +multiple tweak to the nose of Genghis +Khan.</p> + +<p>He enjoyed the gesture. On Christmas +Eve he grinned broadly while the triptych +pivoted in the wall, let him off in the +Kruppmartite-walled, pulsing radiance of +his very secret, very, very personal throne +room, and swung back into place.</p> + +<p>His grin changed to an expression of +imperial dignity as he encased himself in +Catherine the Great's ermine Robe of State +and grasped the Mace of Alexander in his +good left hand. But then the royal mien +gave way to a sullen scowl as he hesitated +between Charlemagne's Crown and Amenhotep's +Uraeus.</p> + +<p>Actually, neither one was worthy of him. +Both purely regional coronets belonged over +in the farthest dusty corner behind the curtain, +along with Schicklehitler's shabby +baton and that crummy Peacock Throne. +What he really needed was a crown worthily +symbolic of the position he'd make it possible +to publicly assume in the not-too-distant +future.</p> + +<p>It was a damned imposition that he had +to put up with. Well, he'd make them do +since they were the best to be had. Adjusting +the Crown of Charlemagne upon his +brow, he stood on tiptoe to wriggle his way +back into the embrace of the titanic crystal +that was the Diamond Throne. There, he +relaxed and gave himself over to the contemplation +of the glories of Lonnie.</p> + +<p>Who but he had developed such an efficient +philosophy to such an unfailingly incisive +point? Certainly not Old Boswell +who, back in the early days had thought to +be teaching him.</p> + +<p>"Rule One, my boy," he remembered the +old patrician twittering, "there's always +someone to pull your chestnuts out of the +fire for you—for a price. Pay it. Then add a +plus to the payment and the man's yours +to use again and again."</p> + +<p>But even in those days as a callow, trusting +youth, he'd been smarter than Boswell. +Observing, from the safety of the sidelines, +the way the old fool had finally tripped up, +he'd added a codicil of his own to Rule +One: "Make sure the payment's <i>final</i>!"</p> + +<p>(... witness the Berlin chestnut pullers. +And the unobtrusive and undiscovered spate +of their predecessors whose usefulness had +become outweighed ...)</p> + +<p>Then Boswell had said, "Rule Two: You +don't have to know the how of anything. +All you have to know is <i>the man who does</i>. +He always has a price. The currency is +usually odd, but find it, pay it, then proceed +per Rule One."</p> + +<p>Even tonight, in his own Throne Room, +Lonnie flushed heavily at the way he'd +accepted at face value what came next. "By +the way," Old Boswell had added smoothly, +"no connection of course, my boy, but the +topic reminded me. Here are the keys to that +daffodil-hued tri-phibian you ogled at +Sporter's exhibit. I must admit you have an +eye for dashing machinery even though I +can't agree with your esthetics. No—no ... +It's yours. I feel that you've earned it and +more by—"</p> + +<p>He'd rushed to the garage to gloat over +the mono-cyclic, gyro-stabilized, U-powered +model with the seat that flattened into a +convenient bed at the touch of a button. +The tri-phib, he recalled, in which he'd +coaxed Agnes into taking her first ride.</p> + +<h3><big>III</big></h3> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The</span> details of that recollection brought +up his spirits again and, he reminded +himself, the lesson had sunk in; had developed +into his most useful ethic. After his +narrow scrape with Jason's quantum analyzer +in the Berlin incident, it hadn't taken +long for a good, one-man detective agency +to locate Physlab Nine's frenetic genius, +Moglaut. It had taken longer to discover +Moglaut's currency but, after much shadowing, +the 'tec had come through handsomely. +Lonnie, automatically applying his fully-developed +Ethic One, always considered it +a nice sentimental touch that the one-man +agency's final case was successful.</p> + +<p>Moglaut's price was a prim, brunette +soprano who wore her eyes disguised behind +heavy tortoiseshell. The ill-cut garb she +could afford added greatly to her staid +appearance, obscuring a certain full-bodied +litheness. She earned a throttled existence +soloing at funerals and in the worship halls +of obscure, rigidly fanatic offshoot sects.</p> + +<p>Her consuming passion was to be an +opera prima donna.</p> + +<p>Lonnie never tried to understand why +Moglaut sat fascinated through endless sin-busting +sermons and lachrymose requiems. +To hurry afterwards, with the jerky motions, +the glazed eyes of a zombie, to subsequent +rendezvous with the soprano at his suburban +apartment. It was entirely sufficient +in Lonnie's philosophy that Moglaut did.</p> + +<p>The soprano's continuing suburban cooperation +was insured by Lonnie's judicious +doling out of exactly the cash to keep a +tenth-rate opera company barely functioning +in a lesser quarter of Government City. +Oddly, he found it pleased him and from +that grew his wide patronizing of the Arts.</p> + +<p>The immediate result of the situation he +created and controlled so deftly was Moglaut's +production of a closed-plenum grid +suit.</p> + +<p>None of Gov-Pol, Gov-Mil or Gov-Econ +labs found out about it; much less Pol-Anx +or Government itself. Moglaut did all +the work in the tiny complete lab Lonnie set +up in the suburbs.</p> + +<p>Lonnie didn't care what electronic witchery +took place in the minute spatial interstices +between the finely-woven mesh of +flexible tantalum. Sufficient for him, the +silvery white suit once donned and triple-zipped +through hood and glove-endings, he +was immune to ordinary Earthly phenomena; +free to move about, do what he wished, +untraceably. In it, his words were not vulnerable +to the sono-beam's eavesdropping. +Photo-electric and magneto-photonic watchdogs +ignored him. Even the most delicately +sensitive thermo-couples continued their +dreams of freezing flame undisturbed. +Jason's quantum analyzer couldn't pick up +the leavings of a glance—all that the suit +permitted out into the physical world.</p> + +<p>The suit had its limitations, of course. +Lonnie could see out, but the suit could also +be seen. That required sometimes intricate +advance planning to offset. Also, occasionally, +manipulating the field of the grid to +permit mechanical contact with the physical +world was a trifle cumbersome but never +annoyingly so. All it took was a modicum +of step-by-step thought and some care not +to leave a personal trace for the quantum +analyzer to pick up. No actual trouble. And, +finally, Moglaut had warned that the compact +power unit pocketed on the left breast +had a half-life of only thirteen years.</p> + +<p>That left Lonnie placid. He took the suit +for granted and used it for what it let him +do.</p> + +<p>When something more was needed, he +was convinced his philosophy would provide +it.</p> + +<p>He didn't waste time trying to determine +whether possession of the suit or previous +experiences leading to his insistence on its +development brought into focus the third +ethic of his philosophy: "Rules One and +Two are valuable and have their use. But +when the chips are really down, <i>do it yourself</i>!" +Instead, he toddled about personally +acquiring the trappings of omnipotent +royalty with little thought for the means.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">But</span> while he was about that business, +the very limitations of the grid suit +furnished an unending challenge to Moglaut's +genius. And out of a sideline experiment +incited by that challenge came the +disarmer which Jason greeted with such +fruitless glee.</p> + +<p>Fruitless because, of course, before turning +the disarmer over to Lab Nine and Pol-Anx, +Moglaut devised a new, infinitely +stronger, more versatile power pack for +Lonnie's suit. A power pack controlled by a +simple rheostat in the palm of the left-hand +glove, but whose energy derived from the +electron-kinetic properties of pent and +shielded tritium. Not simple. In fact, solving +the problem of penning and shielding tritium +in a portable package delayed the appearance +of Jason's disarmer two whole +years.</p> + +<p>That power pack and the reciprocating +properties of the fields of the grid suit +itself made a dilly of a combination. Before, +the closed-plenum mesh kept Lonnie from +leaving traces. Now, anything once embraced +within the palpitating fields of the +grid moved with and how the suit moved; +not in accord with the natural laws of the +surrounding continuum. That neat new attribute +took care of the cubic yard or so of +Diamond Throne.</p> + +<p>And the ravenous tritium was malignant. +Let any external power be applied against +the plenum and it would be smashed, hurled +back full force upon its source.</p> + +<p>Jason had an undiagnosed example of +that when he got only part of his man back +from the Valley of Kings.</p> + +<p>It was the power-pack-grid-suit combo +that made a sleeping Buddha of the servo-tracer +on the night of Jason's call at Lonnie's +mansion; bollixed up the elaborate guards +of the Peiping Temple of Mankind; +and, when Jason so openly displayed suspicion +of the genius, made child's play of +what the newspapers headlined as "Scientist's +Amazing Suicide Love Pact."</p> + +<p>Lonnie grinned, remembering the incident. +Then other memories—things he'd +witnessed through a tight-beam scanner +secreted in the suburban apartment—crowded +his mind; stirring him restlessly on +the Diamond Throne. Divesting himself of +imperial appurtenances, he started for a +certain locked file in the den to check the +specifications of available per-diem empresses.</p> + +<p>Making sure the triptych was snugly in +place behind him, he paused to flip the +switch on the stereo cube. Maybe Messalina +Magdalen or one of the lesser ecdysiasts was +presenting the perfection of her techniques +over the private channel at the moment, an +event he would appreciate.</p> + +<p>Instead, the private channel presented, as +the cube glowed and cleared, the same red, +clawed landscape he'd shown to Jason +months before. The disembodied voice of +the commentator on Mars—not the lyrical +public announcer, but the industrial economist +who served the private channel—picked +up in mid-word: "... early to have +much data on the science and material resources +this dead civilization possessed, but +I recommend that every Corporation in +Induscomm Cabal should place a technical +party at Mars Equatorial as soon as possible. +We shall now key in with the public spacecast. +Note the texture and color range of the +adornments and artifacts. I venture that +these items will prove popular among you +who can well afford such rare treasures. +However, subtlety in acquiring them is suggested. +While common clamor for Public +ownership is under control, overt provocation +is not recommended. Here is the cut-over ..."</p> + +<p>The scene in the cube flashed and coalesced, +dazzling Lonnie's eyes for a moment. +He was conscious of the landscape rushing +"up"; of gigantic walls and spires rising +out of the obscurity of a quarried chasm to +tower briefly against the pink haze of the +Martian sky, then expand to give the impression +of engulfing him before the scanner +lens settled under the center of a leaping, +vaulted dome.</p> + +<p>To Lonnie, the many-acred enclosure +meant nothing with its shimmering, stone-lace +pillars, its tapestries that flamed with +color or traced ghostlike, barely discernible +outlines on the walls. Nor did any thought +enter his mind of the exactness of the reflected +color in the stereo cube. Hands +clenched into aching fists, he stood leaning +forward; striving by sheer will-power to +span the void of space and force the scanner +lens closer to the truncated pyramid of steps +atop which, on a block of plain black stone, +a dessicated mummy sat erect, hands folded +in its reedy lap and on its head a blazing, +coruscating radiance.</p> + +<p>A <i>Crown</i>!</p> + +<h3><big>IV</big></h3> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Dazedly</span>, Lonnie was conscious of the +public announcer's rhapsodizing: "... +Gov-Anth's ethnologists and linguistics +experts are making some progress toward +deciphering the inscription carved on the +plaque. Wait! Here's a note from Gawley +Worin. You remember Gawley Worin, our +famous leg-man, folks, don't you? Well, +here's a note. It ... Listen to this, folks! +Listen! This is the beginning of the first +rough translation of the inscription. +Listen ...</p> + +<p>"'We, Wold, last of the Imperial Family +of Wold who exercise our Power from +Wold, the Imperial City, throughout Wold, +the Planet. We, last of the line of Wold, +who alone may wear the Tiara which is Our +Power, and our Symbol of Power, and the +Symbol of Our Power throughout all the +edos of Raii's life-taking light, without fear, +facing the fate—'"</p> + +<p>Hissing, Lonnie cut the stereo switch. +He'd seen enough. Darting across the den, +he opened his communico. "Get me Sykes +in our Mars unit," he ordered the operator. +"Make sure what I say is scrambled. While +you're waiting, get through to Denisen at +Gov-Forn, then Raikes at Gov-Planet, then +Butchwaeu in Gov-Int. And keep this line +closed—that means you, too—while I'm +talking."</p> + +<p>Lonnie—THE Launcelot Raichi—was +going after what he wanted.</p> + +<p>Just under a mile away, Jason turned +from the public stereo in the rotunda of +Pol-Anx. Tapping the cold bit of his pipe +against his teeth as he walked, he sought the +ease of his chair. In the privacy of his office +he began to ponder.</p> + +<p>The months' developments gave him no +surprise. Because it was the first contact +Humanity had had with a non-human race, +the Mars discoveries made an overwhelming +impression on the man in the street. The +result was that for the first time in Post-Synthesis +history all artifacts were reserved +for Earth Public!!!</p> + +<p>Everyone Who Mattered screamed, except +Lonnie. He evinced a biding calmness while +attending the ceremonies marking the installation +of the Tiara of Wold in the exact +center of Government's own Fane of Artifacts; +even smiling benignly on certain Gov-Ficials +who seemed to perspire more than +the coolness of the evening warranted.</p> + +<p>Jason, loitering on the grass of Gov-Park, +noted the smile and the perspiration. The +perspirers reminded him of small boys +expecting a whipping.</p> + +<p>Once the dedication ceremonies were +over, Lonnie never returned to the Fane to +examine the Tiara.</p> + +<p>It was Jason the Tiara seemed to fascinate. +He spent more and more time, particularly +evenings, crouching on the bench in Gov-Park +across from the Tiara, ignoring the +constant stream of awed tourists silhouetted +against the blaze of light. He kept in constant +touch with his desk sergeant through +his pocket communico, so Annex business +didn't suffer. And the summer was warm, +to say the least, so that several Gov-Ficials +were almost regretful that the dignity of +their positions forbade following Jason's +example.</p> + +<p>But then, too, no mere cop had their +responsibilities.</p> + +<p>None of them was conscious of how +habitually Jason frowned, scratched his +head, moved uneasily on the pleasant bench. +Occasionally, he would snap his fingers and +the frown would relax. He'd switch on the +communico and speak briefly. Immediately +thereafter, one or the other of the hand-picked +four in Jason's personal squad would +raise his eyebrows slightly—safely, since the +pocket communico did not project video—and +take up a new position or new duties. +Or, an equipment unit in Op-room at Anx +would be indifferently retuned by heedless +techs.</p> + +<p>Then for a while Jason would vent smoke +pleasantly from his malodorous pipe until +the frown would settle back between his +eyebrows and he'd begin to squirm on the +bench again, glancing warily at Executive +Level, feeling helpless about the inadequacy +of his resources.</p> + +<p>But Lonnie had gotten over feeling sad +about <i>his</i> resources months earlier.</p> + +<p>The night he'd returned from the Tiara +ceremonies he'd locked himself in his den +and let the on-view smile his face was wearing +lapse. He tweaked Genghis Khan's nose +viciously and slammed himself down in the +Diamond Throne without donning a single +imperial trapping, pounding his fist on the +cool mineral facet and staring morosely at +the grid suit hanging in its place on the +wall.</p> + +<p>The grid suit wouldn't help him this time. +The cover-alls that had everything except +the necessary invisibility to—</p> + +<p><i>Invisibility!</i></p> + +<p>Slowly, Lonnie began to grin. Very little +later he had an obscure biochemist hooked, +and ended his instructions with: "... don't +care if it needs concentrated essence of +chameleon juice. Invent it. And it better +work for there's going to be a total shortage +of neo-hyperacth at two-twenty-eight per cc +for wifey!"</p> + +<p>The biochemist delivered. Lonnie didn't +stop to question if it really was essence of +chameleon juice. He hurried with the +beaker of viscous fluid to his throne room, +drenched every square centimeter of the +grid suit with it and watched breathlessly +through the hours while it dried.</p> + +<p>In the glowing, shadowless illumination, +the suit gradually disappeared. First, the +wall against which it hung shone mistily +through it. Then there was wall, slightly +outlined by a greyish cast. And at last, only +an indescribable fuzziness that had to be +sensed rather than seen.</p> + +<h3><big>V</big></h3> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">He took</span> the fuzziness off its hanger +and threw it up in the air toward the +center light. The light was undimmed. The +fuzziness was air. It sprawled down across +the Throne and became diamond, except for +the sleeve that dangled; part air, part intricately +patterned Persian carpet. It wasn't a +fuzziness, exactly, it was more of a faint +tone of difference in the color-texture feel. +It was as though what was behind the suit +was miraculously translated to its facing +surface and then reflected to the eye within +the nth of utter fidelity.</p> + +<p>Grinning, slowly Lonnie's lower lip crept +out and up to squeeze its mate. Then, because +it was always better to be sure, he +donned the suit to try it against a variety +of experimental backgrounds, indoors and +out.</p> + +<p>Over at Pol-Anx, the servo-tracer went +to sleep; the desk sergeant yanked the creaking +joints of his bunioned feet down off +Jason's desk; on the bench in Gov-Park, +Jason's communico squeaked briefly and +Jason and his four men rose to emergency +alert.</p> + +<p>Two hours later, the Wold Tiara still +coruscating in the Fane's blaze of light, +the servo-tracer picked up its placid humming. +Jason's communico squeaked again +and Jason's men relaxed while Jason himself +clutched his head with both hands and +whispered bitter things.</p> + +<p>At the same time, Lonnie, whistling +cheerfully, drew his legs out of the suit, +shook it straight and hung it back on the +wall. He was sure now. As sure as he was +that the little biochemist and his wife and +quintet of daughters would not want for +neo-hyperacth or anything else any longer. +He giggled a little, thinking of Jason +crouched on the bench, glaring vacantly, +utterly unconscious of Lonnie passing across +the grass so close beside him.</p> + +<p>At his own convenience, Lonnie selected +his night; a full-moon night because his +now-invisible grid suit didn't require dark. +He picked a fairly early hour, too, because +what matter if a few yawps gawked as the +Tiara vanished? And that one of those +yawps would be Jason, stodgily on his +bench, gave Lonnie an extra fillip. Perhaps +it was just for this he'd let Jason plug along +on a cold trail all these years.</p> + +<p>So that night, wearily from his bench in +Gov-Park, Jason looked up at Friday the +13th's full moon swimming amiably through +its own reflected night-brightness. His brain, +tired of its everlasting shuttle between +worries, presented him with a disconnected +memory-fact: "As cited by Zollner," Jason +found himself quoting a forgotten textbook, +"the Moon's reflectivity is point one seven +four ... Nuts!" Angrily, he broke off, +thumbed the button of his communico, +growled into the microphone on his lapel, +"Report."</p> + +<p>"Adams," came promptly back. "West +Entry. Nothing."</p> + +<p>"McGillis. Patrolling rear wall. All clear +in both directions as far as I can see. An' I +can see both ends of the Fane in all this +moonlight, Chief."</p> + +<p>"Holland. At Raichi House. Nothing."</p> + +<p>"Johnson. East Entry. More of the same." +Then, "Say, Jase, how about it? These +double shifts are getting me."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with you, now?"</p> + +<p>"My feet hurt, Jase. Neither one of us is +as young as we used to be, remember. How +about knocking off?"</p> + +<p>"Hmphf ..." Johnson, Jason thought, +was getting old. He'd been a good man in +his day but— Hey, he was still a good man! +It was Jason's own stubbornness that was +wearing Johnson down. Jason's useless +stubbornness. After all, without the backing +of Anx or Gov, without results from the +equipment he had filched to use on Lonnie, +what was the use of everlastingly sticking +around the Tiara like a fly buzzing molasso-saccharine +anyway? Jason opened his mouth +to send them all home, pressed the communico +button and—shelved the relieving +order temporarily. Instead, he blasted into +the microphone: "Sergeant! SERGEANT!"</p> + +<p>From the communico, an intermittent +drone became a gasping gulp; changed into +a violent yawn and only then turned into +startled speech. "Yeah? Huh?... Yeah, +Chief!"</p> + +<p>"Sergeant, if I ever catch you asleep +again, you won't ever get your pension."</p> + +<p>"Chief, I wasn't asleep! Honest! I—"</p> + +<p>"All right. What's happening up there?"</p> + +<p>"Nothin' ... nothin' ... I wasn't asleep, +Chief. I'd'a called you 'f anything—"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Something</span> bright, or was it dull, +plucked at the edge of Jason's vision. +Inside the Fane, far down at one end. A +thin, vertical bar of difference in the blaze +of light. Chin half turned, Jason stared. +What?...</p> + +<p>"<i>Chief!</i> That tracer's asleep—I mean—that +there tracer's just GONE t'sleep! I +mean—Chief! It's—"</p> + +<p>"Shut up!" Jason hissed. "Holland! If +you've let anyone slip past you out of that +house—"</p> + +<p>"Nobody did. You know me better than +that, Chief."</p> + +<p>"Adams! McGillis! Johnson! What's +happening?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing ..."</p> + +<p>"Not a thing ..."</p> + +<p>"<i>Johnson!</i>" Jason licked suddenly dry +lips. "Dammit, Johnson, report!... <i>Johnson!</i>"</p> + +<p>Silence.</p> + +<p>Grimly, Jason watched the vertical bar of +different brightness edge back to the Fane's +East wall and disappear into the even dazzle +of the marble. He had a feeling it wasn't +any use calling Johnson again. Ever.</p> + +<p>"Chief, what's up? What do we do?"</p> + +<p>"Huh? Oh ... You, Holland, get over +to the East Entry as fast as your legs'll +stretch."</p> + +<p>"There in three minutes flat!"</p> + +<p>"You, too, McGillis."</p> + +<p>"On my way!"</p> + +<p>"Adams, you stick at that West Entry. +If anything gets past you, I'll—"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry, Chief. I've got Johnson +to even up for."</p> + +<p>Not watching how he ran, Jason hurled +himself toward the East Entry; his eyes +following, in the opposite direction, a dullness +moving in the blaze inside the Fane. +A smoothly moving, white on white, unfaced +ghost of whiteness within, a part of, +the blazing radionic light. Just as he +rounded the East end of the Fane, he +glimpsed the vertical bar of whiteness again—the +edge of the marble slab that was the +entry door, reflecting the blazing light at a +different angle. Behind it, McGillis's tightly +grinning face. Under McGillis's face, the +stab of blue-white light reflected a glancing +ray from the old-fashioned solid-missile +service pistol that Jason had insisted all +four men arm themselves with for this +assignment.</p> + +<p>Over the sound of his own labored +breathing as he plunged through the East +Entry, Jason heard panting behind him. +Holland. Holland bettering his promised +three minutes—and with a forbidden disarmer +in his hand. Guiltily, Jason felt the +weight of the disarmer he had himself +secreted under his armpit.</p> + +<p>Then there wasn't time for thinking or +feeling, only for running down the dazzling +half-mile inside the Fane to the Tiara. Up +ahead, the different-white shape was motionless +in front of it. Oddly, a dark, vertical +line appeared from the top to what would +be the waist of the shape. And for the +instant it took the Tiara to vanish inside, +Jason saw clearly in the radiant light the +profile of Lonnie's unmistakable face. Saw +Lonnie's eyes swivel in the direction of the +thundering echoes of their footfalls in the +silence of the Fane. Saw Lonnie turn toward +them, the dark line disappearing from waist +to top as if it had never been.</p> + +<p>Once more the different-whiteness moved. +Toward them. Edging for the back wall to +skirt around them; one limb-shape fumbling +in the palm of the other.</p> + +<p>"No you don't!" McGillis, ahead of +Jason, yelled, his howl drowned in the +smacking crack of his pistol.</p> + +<p>There seemed to be a waver in the +different-whiteness. A small black dot appeared +against it; hung briefly, apparently +unsupported, in the air; then the undistorted +bullet dropped inertly to the floor.</p> + +<p>"You <i>still</i> won't!" McGillis hurled himself, +shoulders low and legs driving, at the +shape. Two feet from it, he rebounded +sharply, trod on the rolling bullet, went +down, his head splatting dully against the +marble floor.</p> + +<p>Holland grunted. Crouched to leap. +Thrust his disarmer high, ready to snap +into line.</p> + +<p>"Hold it!" Jason commanded. Silently, +eyelids barely separated to endure the +dazzle, he stared at the different-whiteness +that confronted him. "I made it this time, +Lonnie," he called. "Caught up with you— No!" +His arm flung out, startling him with +the feel of his disarmer now oddly in his +hand.</p> + +<p>"Don't move!"</p> + +<p>The white-within-white's limb-shapes +moved up, the hand-ends one over the other. +Through the minute spaces the overlapping +fingers left, glimpses of a thin dark line +appeared. The hood was open a trifle at +mouth level, and from the opening Lonnie's +voice emerged, sifting through the protecting +screen of gloves. "You can't see me! +You <i>can't</i>!"</p> + +<p>"No? Take one step sideways. Just <i>one</i>! +Stop!"</p> + +<p>The different-whiteness had moved, and +Holland had moved with it; crouching now, +alertly motionless, in his new position. Jason +changed the angle of his own facing. "Now +do you think we can't see you?"</p> + +<p>"But ... but how!"</p> + +<p>"Your albedo is showing," Jason +chuckled harshly. "You never would take +the trouble to learn the <i>how</i> of anything, +Lonnie. Sure, your damned disguise is the +same color as the marble. Maybe even exactly +the same. But the material is different, +and the surface texture; it doesn't have the +same degree or quality of reflectivity to incident +light that marble does!</p> + +<p>"Eighty years ago, even the commercial +photographers knew about albedo—one of +'em made a picture of a cat, white on white. +I told you about the reflectivity in your +stereo cube. But you wouldn't listen, +Lonnie, would you?" Jason let out a bursting +peal of laughter. "<i>So you tripped over +your own albedo!</i>"</p> + +<p>Through the dying echoes of his own +laughter, Jason caught Lonnie's harsh +whisper. "You haven't got me, copper!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The</span> black line marking the opening in +the grid suit disappeared. The barely-discernible +limb-shapes dropped, one hand-end +again fumbling at the rheostat in the +palm of the other.</p> + +<p>"I'll get him, Chief!" Holland was in +action, his disarmer snapping down into +aim.</p> + +<p>"No!" Jason roared. "Holland, don't!"</p> + +<p>Too late. Under the pressure of Holland's +finger, the disarmer's invisible ion-stream +tightened to the thread-thin lethal intensity, +leaped out against the suit's grid. Then the +disarmer was luminous even in the dazzle; +even through the flesh of Holland's fist. +Holland screamed and squirmed and +dropped. Part of him—the part that wasn't +burned away—reached the floor.</p> + +<p>The stench of carbonized flesh scoured +Jason's nostrils. Stupidly, he stared down at +the headless, shoulderless, armless torso; +black ... sooty ... against the snowy gleam +of the floor; conscious of the sidelong, +round-about approach of the different-white +figure. He'd failed again. Lonnie, in that +damned suit, was impervious.</p> + +<p>Slowly, he raised his eyes from the thing +on the floor to the thing approaching. One +consolation, he himself wouldn't go on +living after this. With grim frustration, he +raised his arm in a final, fruitless gesture +and hurled the useless disarmer at the shape +of Lonnie.</p> + +<p>It halted, dead, in mid-air, a yard away +from the shape-thing. Dropped straight +down, clanging against the floor.</p> + +<p>A quiver as of mirth appeared to shake +the different-whiteness. It stooped. One +hand-end fumbled at the palmed rheostat, +then dropped to pick up the disarmer. +Fumbled again at the rheostat while the +figure straightened up to point the glistening +projector at Jason's belly.</p> + +<p>The dark opening in the hood appeared +again.</p> + +<p>Lonnie's voice chortled, "Told you I'd +use whatever you tried to smear you with. +Goodbye, Jasey ..."</p> + +<p>The dark line was gone. The disarmer, +turned to lethal potential, settled in the +shape's hand-end and began to spout. Jason +went stiff. Every muscle of his body clenching +to withstand obliteration.</p> + +<p>He waited for it. Tight ... except his +eyes that, in spite of themselves, opened.</p> + +<p>Caught within the field, the full power +of the disarmer poured itself into the suit. +The suit's capacity absorbed it. Almost. +Then turned the combined energies on itself.</p> + +<p>With the smell of frying organic matter, +slowly the grid-coveralls appeared in +dazzling radiance within the dazzle of the +Fane's lights; glowed in it; red—then +white—hot. Whiter than the light itself—far, +far lighter than any reflected rays could +make it.</p> + +<p>Inside the all-encompassing, roasting grid +of the melting suit, Lonnie writhed. Faintly, +as the suit failed, his screams came through—momentarily. +Then they were gone as the +fused, molten heap subsided lower ... +lower ... began to trickle across the dazzling, +ice-white marble of the floor.</p> + +<p>Afterward, had Jason known anything at +all about Lonnie's Philosophy, he'd have +immediately supplied another "rule"; making +a foursome out of the "Triple Ethic": +"If you do it yourself, make sure you know +<i>what</i> you're doing."</p> + +<div class="trn"><div class="figt"><a href="images/002-2.jpg"><img src="images/002-1.jpg" width="140" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a></div> + +<p><b><big>Transcriber's Note:</big></b></p> + +<p>This etext was produced from <i>Planet Stories</i> September 1952. +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.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Zero Data, by Charles Saphro + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ZERO DATA *** + +***** This file should be named 29727-h.htm or 29727-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/7/2/29727/ + +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, 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 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. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/29727-h/images/001.png b/29727-h/images/001.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fde40d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/29727-h/images/001.png diff --git a/29727-h/images/002-1.jpg b/29727-h/images/002-1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..11c8654 --- /dev/null +++ b/29727-h/images/002-1.jpg diff --git a/29727-h/images/002-2.jpg b/29727-h/images/002-2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..80f6fe8 --- /dev/null +++ b/29727-h/images/002-2.jpg diff --git a/29727.txt b/29727.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..730f1e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/29727.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1521 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Zero Data, by Charles Saphro + +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: Zero Data + +Author: Charles Saphro + +Release Date: August 19, 2009 [EBook #29727] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ZERO DATA *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +ZERO DATA + +By CHARLES SAPHRO + + + _All the intricate, electronic witchery of the 21st century could + not pin guilt on fabulous Lonnie Raichi, the irreproachable + philanthropist. But Jason, the cop, was sweating it out ... + searching for that fourth and final and all-knowing rule that would + knock Lonnie's "triple ethic" for a gala loop._ + + +Lonnie Raichi was small, heavily built, wet-eyed, dapper and successful. +His success he attributed entirely to his philosophy. + +Not knowing about Lonnie's philosophy, the whole twenty-odd years of +Lonnie's success was the abiding crux of Jason's disgust. And this, in +spite of the more and more men Jason came to control and the fitful +stream of new techniques and equipment Gov-Pol and Gov-Mil Labs put at +his disposal. + +Jason was a cop. In fact, by this Friday the thirteenth in the fall of +2009, squirming on what had come to be his pet Gov-Park bench right +across from the Tiara of Wold in the Fane, he was only one step short of +being the Head Cop of Government City. He was good. Gathering in a lot +of criminals was what had brought him up the steps. + +But he hadn't gathered in Lonnie. + +It wasn't for lack for trying. Way back, when Lonnie was known simply as +"Lonnie," Jason managed to get a little help from his associates and +superiors. Sometimes. + +But as Lonnie came to be known as Lon Raichi, then Mr. Raichi, and +finally as "THE Launcelot Raichi" (to Everyone Who Mattered), and as +Jason's promotions kept pace with his widening experience and +painstakingly acquired knowledge; peculiarly, there seemed to be fewer +and fewer persons around who could be made interested in "Lonnie." + +Inside Government and Gov-Pol-Anx as well as among the general +Two-Worlds public. + +So Jason got less and less help, or even passive cooperation, from his +superiors. As a matter of fact, the more men he could command, the fewer +he could use on anything that could be construed as concerning Lonnie. + +Equipment, though, was a little different matter. There was usually +enough so that one unit of a kind could be unobtrusively trained on Mr. +Raichi under the care of Jason's own desk sergeant. In 1999, for +example, Moglaut, that erratic and secretive genius in Physlab Nine, +came out with a quantum analyzer and probability reproducer. The machine +installed in Pol-Anx, reconstructed crimes and identified the probable +criminals by their modus operandi and the physical traces they couldn't +avoid leaving at the un-mercy of any of its portable data accumulators. + +On Jason's first attempt it almost came close to Lonnie. It did gather +in the hidden, dead, still twitching, completely uncommunicative +carcasses of the five men who actually relieved the vault of the +Citizen's Bank of Berlin of its clutch of millions. It even identified +the body of the rocopilot found floating in the Potomac a few days later +as being one of the group, and the killer. It did _not_ locate the +arsonized remnants of the plane, though, nor the currency; and only +achieved the casting of a slight, or subsidiary, third-hand aspersion in +the direction of THE Launcelot Raichi. + +But Lonnie came up with an irrefutable alibi, somehow, and the hassle +that followed made Jason's luck run out. And on Jason's stubborn, +secret, subsequent tries, all the analyzer could produce was a report of +zero data whenever Jason, reasonably or unreasonably, believed that +Lonnie was involved. + +Every time. + +Zero data when Schicklehitler's marshal's baton disappeared from the +British Museum. + +[Illustration: _Lonnie on his dream throne ... Jason at his instruments. +Was the struggle endless between these two?_] + +Zero data when Charlemagne's Crown lapsed unobtrusively from its shrine +in Vienna during the Year 2000 Celebration. + +Subsequently, Jason realized that the Berlin job in 1999 had marked +Lonnie's last essay after money. Other things seemed to occupy Lonnie's +mind after he'd sprouted publicly into the status of full-fledged, +hyper-respectable, inter-planetary business tycoon; complete with a +many-tentacled industrial organization in Moon Colony and a far-flung +prospecting unit headquartering at Mars Equatorial. + +Tycoonship was a status with which Everyone Who Mattered was always +pleased. + +Jason's next attempt on Lonnie had to wait until 2005 and was the result +of two unconnected circumstances. The first was Physlab Nine's secretive +genius, Moglaut, evolving another piece of equipment, a disarmer, which, +subsequent to its first use, saved countless cops' lives. The second was +the discovery in the Valley of Kings, of Amenhotep III's own personal +official Uraeus. Positively identified beyond the shadow of doubt. + +Jason, playing the hunch he'd built up about Lonnie, rushed a man, armed +with the brand new disarmer, instantly to the scene. + +The next morning, Amenhotep's Uraeus was gone and the corpse of Jason's +man was found--part of it. The right hand, arm, shoulder, and most of +the head were missing; burned away. And of the disarmer, only a fused +hunk of mixed metals and silver helix remained. + +And the analyzer reported zero data. + +Lab Nine's taciturn and exasperating Moglaut failed to derive an +explanation for either circumstance. + +"I won't shut up," Jason said, standing on the carpet in front of his +superior. "He did it. I don't know how, but he did." + +Another spasm of frustration shook him and he slammed his fist down on +the sacred desk. "I've known Lonnie all my life. I know he doesn't know +phfut about anything scientific, and yet he makes a horse's--" + +"Captain Jason, I insist that you stop referring to--" + +"Makes a--" Jason raised his voice, "horse's--" + +"CAPTAIN JASON!" + +Jason subsided. + +"Captain, Annex has been most forbearing all these years. We've +overlooked your incomprehensible phobia--this--this confoundedly +unfounded impossible bias against such an irreproachable philanthropist +as Launcelot Raichi--because of the sterling quality of your ... ah ... +other work. However--" + +On the desk, the Commissioner's fingers took up a measured tattoo. +"--should this fixed idea begin to encroach on--uh--uh--" + +"All right ... Sir." Sullenly, Jason submitted. "I understand." + +With a self-congratulatory smirk up at the ceiling that separated them +from Executive Level, the bland face of the Commissioner smoothed out. +"All right, Captain, as long as we understand each other ..." + +Sourly, Jason got himself back to his own office. Drumming his own +fingers on his own desk and glaring at his own desk sergeant, he purged +his soul. + +"--damned equipment would only work, I'd gather him in! They couldn't +stop me, then! But--" Jason choked. When he could speak again, "He's +never studied a lick in his life, I tell you! Yet he makes a he-cow's +behind out of the best man and the best scientific equipment Annex can +provide! How? How, I ask you! He doesn't know the first blasted thing +about any blasted thing in any blasted science!" + + * * * * * + +That was true. Conversely, Jason didn't know about Lonnie's philosophy. + +Nowadays, Lonnie called it a "philosophy." He told reporters it was +"based on a triple ethic." (Inside his skull, a small boy jumped up and +down in glee over the magnificent language he was able to use.) But he +always replied only with a superior smile when asked by reporters to put +the philosophy and the triple ethic into words. If pressed, he +paraphrased an Ancient Man: "You know my works. Judge by them." + +He was referring, of course, to his having branched out into patronizing +the Arts. He'd even erected Raichi Museum just across the velvety green +circle of Gov-Park from Government's own Fane of Artifacts. + +The reporters would go away and write more articles about his modesty +and the superlative treasures of Earth, Moon and Mars that were +gathered in the Raichi Galleries; protected, the papers always boasted, +by the same ultra-safety mechanisms that guarded the mile-long, +one-gallery-wide, glass-fronted Fane itself. Government affably made up +two of every anti-break-and-entry device nowadays. One for the Fane and +the other for Raichi Museum. + +Despite occasional grumbles in the letters-to-the-editor columns, the +papers never seemed to inquire into why so many priceless trans-worlds +artifacts got into Lonnie's private ownership instead of Government's +public Fane. And while some artists and architects (unendowed by Lonnie) +succeeded in publicly proclaiming Raichi Museum gaudy, such carpings +were but to be expected, particularly from modernists. + +Actually, Everyone Who Mattered felt Raichi Museum's granite walls were +much more dignified than the narrow, glass-faced arcade that was the +Fane, wide open to the most disrespectfully casual public inspection all +the time. Why, even late at night gawking loiterers pressed their noses +against the glass; black, clumsy images pinned to the blazing whiteness +hurled by radionic tubes against the back wall of snowy marble from +Mars' arctic quarries. Besides, that glass, proof though it was against +anything but an atomic explosion, still made every true art lover feel +disquietingly insecure. + +No, on the whole, the papers and reporters and true art lovers who felt +the Public's treasures should be more secure than visible, never +questioned Lonnie's doing good to so much Art. + +Thus, nowadays, nobody did anything but accept Lonnie. Except Jason. And +he, perforce, took out his disgust not on hounding the sacrosanct +Lonnie, but on that crackpot, mumchance, captive genius of Physlab Nine. +With the result that, late in 2007, Pol-Anx had an electronic +servo-tracer. + +Pending construction of sufficient hundreds of thousands more for full +Anx use, Jason swore Lab Nine to secrecy and installed the pilot model +in his own office. He had enough authority for that. + +It was a hellishly unbuildable and deceptively simple gadget, that +tracer. Simply tune it in on the encephalo-aura, the brain wave pattern +of any individual ... and monitor. It never let go until deliberately +switched off by the operator. It tracked; pinpointed the subject +accurately up to twenty thousand miles. It stopped humming and started +panting in proportionately ascending decibels when the subject became +tense, nervous, afraid. It also directed pocket-sized trackers of its +own Damoclean beam. It made it a cinch to gather in known criminals in +the very midst of their first subsequent flagrante delicto. + +Jason latched the servo-tracer on Lonnie and settled down to wait. + +At 10 p.m., local mean time, January 25, 2008, the tracer hiccupped and, +all by itself, _went to sleep_! + +Jason blinked. Jiggled the gadget. Swore. Either the gadget was haywire +or Lonnie was up to something, and, as usual, was making a-- + +Jason bawled for four reliable squad men he'd mentally selected before. +If he could find Lonnie--catch Lonnie in actual performance of an +act--then Commissioner or no Commissioner, Executive Level or no +Executive Level...! + +He roared from Pol-Anx with the men, past the flank of Government Fane, +across the Park and around the bulk of Raichi Museum to Lonnie's mansion +in its shadow. Leaped from the gyro-van, sweeping his men out into a fan +for the neighborhood. + +Nothing. Placid. Tree-shadowed, lawn-swept streets, ebony and silver in +the light the moon reflected from solar space. + +He'd missed. Too late. Lonnie was gone ... or was he? + +Jason didn't give himself time to think; his men time to get even a +momentary hesitation started. He shoved his thumb hard against the door +chimes and his shield under the butler's nose. + +Yes, Mr. Raichi was at home. Then, after an interval nicely calculated +to allow Jason to feel how acutely precarious his position stood, "Mr. +Raichi is accessible." + +Lonnie was bland. Blandly accepting Jason's urgent story of a known ... +er ... jewel thief traced to the neighborhood. Blandly amenable to +Jason's suggestion that his men be permitted to go over the mansion +(once he'd started this damfool caper, he had to go through with it). +Lonnie so bland that Jason felt a skitter of perspiration down his +backbone while his men hustled up the soaring circle of the stair. + + +II + +"Since I've been disturbed anyway," Lonnie offered, "I'll show you +around." + +"Thanks," Jason shook his head stiffly. "I'll just wait." + +"I think you should come." + +Shrugging, Jason followed, eyes stubbornly downcast. + +"... my library ... my den ... bar. Care for a drink? Well, suit +yourself." As the lights of the den dimmed and one wall swooshed +smoothly into the ceiling. "My theatre ... The usual tri-di stereo, of +course, but I've had a couple of the new tight beams installed to +channel Moon and Mars on the cube. Much better than the usual staged +bilge. Say, that reminds me, a couple hours ago Mars projector had a +scanner on one of the exploration parties caught out in a psychosonic +storm. Jove, did they wriggle! Even in atomsuits they were better than +Messalina Magdalen working on her last G-string. Here, I'll switch it +on. Maybe the rescue team's--" + +Building up inside the hundreds of thousands of layers of crystallized +plastic came a reddish, three-dimensional landscape, as if viewed from a +height. Orange dust swirled across a gaunt, clawed plain under a +transparent pink haze. A feeling as of sub-visual vibration, emanating +from the cube, tugged at Jason's eyelids. + +No life. + +"--Nope; they've cleaned up the carcasses already. Too bad. Tell you +what, though. Next time I catch it happening, I'll phone you and--" + +"Don't bother." + +"Suit yourself." Lonnie shifted and went on, lightly. "I'm not at all +satisfied with the color, are you? It's off a little, don't you +think?... Well?... Well!" + +Unwillingly, Jason moved his attention to the cube. Eyes widening, he +studied it. "No. You're wrong. That's good! The tech who poured that +stereo did a damned good job. It's--" + +"Not good enough for me! That's not exactly what I saw up at Vulcan +City. If those lazy--" + +"Look, you can't expect exactly the same reflectivity from crystallized +plastic that you get from molecules of atmosphere, no matter how +scientifically the pouring and layering is controlled. It's--they're two +different materials. Leaving aside the ion-index differential and +quality of incident light, you still can't--" + +"_I_ can ..." As the pause lengthened, Jason's gaze was finally drawn to +Lonnie's face. "You still haven't changed a bit, have you, Jasey? Still +all wrapped up in _how_ any collection of doodads work instead of just +for what it'll do. You know, I wouldn't be surprised if that hasn't +always been the difference between us. Where's it got you?" + +Jason strode for the door. + +"Wait a minute." Lonnie's voice came louder. "Better wait, copper. I'm +not through ... That's better." + +From behind Jason came the sound of rubbing palms. "We've come a long +way from Gimlet Street, haven't we, Jasey? You particularly. Captain. +Promotions. Pay raises ..." Then Lonnie was in front of him, staring up. +"You're quite a substantial citizen now. Yes? Well, look at that. Go on, +look at it." + +Against the side wall stood a gigantic triptych. More than life size, +the central panel canopied the statue of a Mongol potentate; the two +side wings, a pair of guards in bas-relief. All three wrought in +chryselephantine gold and ivory; the gold with flowing pallid +highlights. Damascened armor, encrusted with jewels, girdled the chest +of the Asiatic Prince; helmeted the sullen head carved from a single +immensity of ivory. + +Ruby eyes glared arrogantly under ebon brows. Against the statue's +folded shins, its pommel negligently gripped by one immovable, ivory +hand, leaned a short Turkish scimitar of watered steel. Beneath the +carved hassock upon which the statue sat, a dais of three steps fell +away to the floor. + +"That's Genghis Khan," Lonnie said. "I had him made. That isn't gold +he's made of; that's aureum--and it cost plenty to have the silver mixed +in. It makes it better. And I get the best! A hundred thousand, it cost +me. And thirty-six thousand more to brace the wall and floor. It's good. +It's the best that's made!" + +He came up on tiptoe, thrusting his chin as close as possible to Jason's +averted face. "Why don't you buy one for your place, Captain?" + + * * * * * + +Jason stared into the malevolent eyes of the statue. + +"Huh ... hu-hu ... hu-ha-ha-ha ..." At the dais, Lonnie put his foot on +the second step and patted Genghis Khan familiarly on one ivory knee. "I +like this old boy. He had the right idea. I have it. You haven't. You +never had. If you had, you'd'a listened to the proposition I made you +way back then. Remember when Aggie told you about it? Say, I wonder +what's become of her, anyway. Do you know? What? What'd you say?" + +Jason cleared his throat. Hard. + +"Well?" + +Jason swallowed. Blood pounded in his temples. + +"Jasey, you're stupid." + +Jason made his eyes close. Let them re-open slowly. + +"You were born stupid and you've stayed stupid." + +Still Jason held back an answer. + +"You're nothing but a stupid, go-where-you're-sent, do-what-you're-told +cop! What do you say to that! If you want to keep on being one, answer +me! Answer me!" + +Deliberately, Jason jerked his chin at the statue. "That's another +example of what I mean." + +"_What?!!_" screamed Lonnie. + +"Reflectivity. The silver in the gold. Two different metals and where +they're not well fused. That sword blade, too. Just the misalignment of +molecules in the surface of the steel makes it look wavy, and ripple +when the light changes or you move. Different even in two parts of the +same material. That's why you can't get the stereo cube to reproduce +color-feel exactly." Breathing heavily, Jason had to let his voice fade +out. + +"Gaaa ..." Lonnie convulsed. "Who cares!" Laugh sounds rolled out of his +throat. "You'll never change." + +He flicked his hand at Jason, brushing him away. + +But, as Jason, white-faced, herded his men out through the costly +grandeurs of the vestibule, Lonnie called from the inner hall: +"Copper ..." + +Jason turned, waited. + +"You amused me, so it's all right this time. You can keep your +penny-ante job. But don't try for me again. You cross my path again, +I'll smear you. And what's more, I'll use whatever you're trying, to +smear you with. Get that! Get it good! Now get out!" + +Back in Jason's office, the desk sergeant reported as Jason came in. +"Funny thing. That there tracer started to hum again soon after you was +out for a while. Quit again 'bout five minutes ago, though." + +Jason gritted his teeth, banished the sergeant, and spent five minutes +alone gripping the edge of his desk. Then he yanked Lab Nine's silent +genius down to his office. That didn't help for the tracer stayed +asleep. Not even a hiccup rewarded Moglaut's most active efforts on +Lonnie's wave length. On others, fine. Through the night and on into the +next day, Jason kept Moglaut at work. + +Late in the morning, Authority at Peiping televised publicly that the +Mace of Alexander was gone from its satin pillow in the proof-glass case +in the alarm-wired room off the machine-weapon-guarded main corridor of +the security-policed Temple of Mankind. + +The Mace, symbol of Alexander's power, was a pretty little baton barely +two feet long. Its staff was mastodon ivory, the paleontologists had +determined. One end sported a solid ball of gold hardly as big as a +fist; studded with rubies, but none set quite so close as to actually +touch. + +The other end, balancing the ball of gold, mounted the largest single +polished emerald crystal in the discovered universe. Neither the Moon or +Mars had produced anything in the emerald line equivalent to what had +come out of the mists of Earthly history. + + * * * * * + +Disregarding the bulletin, Jason kept Moglaut at the servo-tracer. In +the night's smallest hours it began placidly to hum on Lonnie's aura +again. + +"What happened?" Jason said. "What did you do?" + +Moglaut shrugged. + +"You must have done something. What was it?" + +Moglaut, not looking up from the purring machine, shook his head. + +"All right. You can go now." Jason watched the genius disappear +hurriedly through the door. From the door he watched the man scutter +down the long, long corridor out of sight. The first thing in the +morning, Jason promised himself, he'd have a session about Moglaut with +Lab Nine's chief. + +The first thing in the morning brought word that Lab Nine's erratic +genius had stumbled himself out of the seventeenth-floor window of his +suburban apartment to his death. Lab Nine's chief clucked sorrowfully. + +Jason shook his head and wondered. After exhaustive investigation (zero +data) he still wondered. That's all he was able to do, wonder. + +The second time Jason's servo-tracer on Lonnie hiccupped and dozed off +was at 12:01 a.m., August 7th, 2008, just one day after the Diamond +Throne arrived on Earth. The single, glittering diamond crystal, +misshapen like an armchair and larger than one, had been mined out of +the core of Tycho's crater. And it was also just two days before the +Moon Throne would have been installed in the unbreakable safety of +Raichi Museum! + +"Jason, you're insane," his superior told him when Jason, reinforced by +an astounding public furore, brought the matter up. "He owned it. He had +no reason to steal it from himself. Besides, one man alone couldn't +budge that enormous--" + +"It won't do any harm to look-see." + +"It can do a lot of harm!" The Commissioner glanced quickly at the +ceiling. "I'll have nothing to do with it. That's all." + +Officially, Jason's hands were tied. But secretly he maneuvered the +transfer of a five-layers-down undercover man from Madras to Government +City. And, coincidentally, in the ordinary routine of operation, Raichi +Museum took on a new janitor; a little brown man who grinned constantly +and was fanatical about dust. He was a good, reliable man and when he +reported that neither the Diamond Throne nor any of the other missing +glories were anywhere in the Museum, Jason had to believe him. + +As a matter of fact, it wouldn't have done Jason any good to have +installed the little brown man in Lonnie's mansion, either. The +lock--not the apparent one openly in the den door, but the real one--was +as unobtrusive and foolproof as twenty-first-century engineering could +make it. And Lonnie always made sure he was alone and unobserved in the +den before he locked it and sauntered across to bestow a peculiar, +multiple tweak to the nose of Genghis Khan. + +He enjoyed the gesture. On Christmas Eve he grinned broadly while the +triptych pivoted in the wall, let him off in the Kruppmartite-walled, +pulsing radiance of his very secret, very, very personal throne room, +and swung back into place. + +His grin changed to an expression of imperial dignity as he encased +himself in Catherine the Great's ermine Robe of State and grasped the +Mace of Alexander in his good left hand. But then the royal mien gave +way to a sullen scowl as he hesitated between Charlemagne's Crown and +Amenhotep's Uraeus. + +Actually, neither one was worthy of him. Both purely regional coronets +belonged over in the farthest dusty corner behind the curtain, along +with Schicklehitler's shabby baton and that crummy Peacock Throne. What +he really needed was a crown worthily symbolic of the position he'd make +it possible to publicly assume in the not-too-distant future. + +It was a damned imposition that he had to put up with. Well, he'd make +them do since they were the best to be had. Adjusting the Crown of +Charlemagne upon his brow, he stood on tiptoe to wriggle his way back +into the embrace of the titanic crystal that was the Diamond Throne. +There, he relaxed and gave himself over to the contemplation of the +glories of Lonnie. + +Who but he had developed such an efficient philosophy to such an +unfailingly incisive point? Certainly not Old Boswell who, back in the +early days had thought to be teaching him. + +"Rule One, my boy," he remembered the old patrician twittering, "there's +always someone to pull your chestnuts out of the fire for you--for a +price. Pay it. Then add a plus to the payment and the man's yours to use +again and again." + +But even in those days as a callow, trusting youth, he'd been smarter +than Boswell. Observing, from the safety of the sidelines, the way the +old fool had finally tripped up, he'd added a codicil of his own to +Rule One: "Make sure the payment's _final_!" + +(... witness the Berlin chestnut pullers. And the unobtrusive and +undiscovered spate of their predecessors whose usefulness had become +outweighed ...) + +Then Boswell had said, "Rule Two: You don't have to know the how of +anything. All you have to know is _the man who does_. He always has a +price. The currency is usually odd, but find it, pay it, then proceed +per Rule One." + +Even tonight, in his own Throne Room, Lonnie flushed heavily at the way +he'd accepted at face value what came next. "By the way," Old Boswell +had added smoothly, "no connection of course, my boy, but the topic +reminded me. Here are the keys to that daffodil-hued tri-phibian you +ogled at Sporter's exhibit. I must admit you have an eye for dashing +machinery even though I can't agree with your esthetics. No--no ... It's +yours. I feel that you've earned it and more by--" + +He'd rushed to the garage to gloat over the mono-cyclic, +gyro-stabilized, U-powered model with the seat that flattened into a +convenient bed at the touch of a button. The tri-phib, he recalled, in +which he'd coaxed Agnes into taking her first ride. + + +III + +The details of that recollection brought up his spirits again and, he +reminded himself, the lesson had sunk in; had developed into his most +useful ethic. After his narrow scrape with Jason's quantum analyzer in +the Berlin incident, it hadn't taken long for a good, one-man detective +agency to locate Physlab Nine's frenetic genius, Moglaut. It had taken +longer to discover Moglaut's currency but, after much shadowing, the +'tec had come through handsomely. Lonnie, automatically applying his +fully-developed Ethic One, always considered it a nice sentimental touch +that the one-man agency's final case was successful. + +Moglaut's price was a prim, brunette soprano who wore her eyes disguised +behind heavy tortoiseshell. The ill-cut garb she could afford added +greatly to her staid appearance, obscuring a certain full-bodied +litheness. She earned a throttled existence soloing at funerals and in +the worship halls of obscure, rigidly fanatic offshoot sects. + +Her consuming passion was to be an opera prima donna. + +Lonnie never tried to understand why Moglaut sat fascinated through +endless sin-busting sermons and lachrymose requiems. To hurry +afterwards, with the jerky motions, the glazed eyes of a zombie, to +subsequent rendezvous with the soprano at his suburban apartment. It was +entirely sufficient in Lonnie's philosophy that Moglaut did. + +The soprano's continuing suburban cooperation was insured by Lonnie's +judicious doling out of exactly the cash to keep a tenth-rate opera +company barely functioning in a lesser quarter of Government City. +Oddly, he found it pleased him and from that grew his wide patronizing +of the Arts. + +The immediate result of the situation he created and controlled so +deftly was Moglaut's production of a closed-plenum grid suit. + +None of Gov-Pol, Gov-Mil or Gov-Econ labs found out about it; much less +Pol-Anx or Government itself. Moglaut did all the work in the tiny +complete lab Lonnie set up in the suburbs. + +Lonnie didn't care what electronic witchery took place in the minute +spatial interstices between the finely-woven mesh of flexible tantalum. +Sufficient for him, the silvery white suit once donned and triple-zipped +through hood and glove-endings, he was immune to ordinary Earthly +phenomena; free to move about, do what he wished, untraceably. In it, +his words were not vulnerable to the sono-beam's eavesdropping. +Photo-electric and magneto-photonic watchdogs ignored him. Even the most +delicately sensitive thermo-couples continued their dreams of freezing +flame undisturbed. Jason's quantum analyzer couldn't pick up the +leavings of a glance--all that the suit permitted out into the physical +world. + +The suit had its limitations, of course. Lonnie could see out, but the +suit could also be seen. That required sometimes intricate advance +planning to offset. Also, occasionally, manipulating the field of the +grid to permit mechanical contact with the physical world was a trifle +cumbersome but never annoyingly so. All it took was a modicum of +step-by-step thought and some care not to leave a personal trace for the +quantum analyzer to pick up. No actual trouble. And, finally, Moglaut +had warned that the compact power unit pocketed on the left breast had a +half-life of only thirteen years. + +That left Lonnie placid. He took the suit for granted and used it for +what it let him do. + +When something more was needed, he was convinced his philosophy would +provide it. + +He didn't waste time trying to determine whether possession of the suit +or previous experiences leading to his insistence on its development +brought into focus the third ethic of his philosophy: "Rules One and Two +are valuable and have their use. But when the chips are really down, _do +it yourself_!" Instead, he toddled about personally acquiring the +trappings of omnipotent royalty with little thought for the means. + + * * * * * + +But while he was about that business, the very limitations of the grid +suit furnished an unending challenge to Moglaut's genius. And out of a +sideline experiment incited by that challenge came the disarmer which +Jason greeted with such fruitless glee. + +Fruitless because, of course, before turning the disarmer over to Lab +Nine and Pol-Anx, Moglaut devised a new, infinitely stronger, more +versatile power pack for Lonnie's suit. A power pack controlled by a +simple rheostat in the palm of the left-hand glove, but whose energy +derived from the electron-kinetic properties of pent and shielded +tritium. Not simple. In fact, solving the problem of penning and +shielding tritium in a portable package delayed the appearance of +Jason's disarmer two whole years. + +That power pack and the reciprocating properties of the fields of the +grid suit itself made a dilly of a combination. Before, the +closed-plenum mesh kept Lonnie from leaving traces. Now, anything once +embraced within the palpitating fields of the grid moved with and how +the suit moved; not in accord with the natural laws of the surrounding +continuum. That neat new attribute took care of the cubic yard or so of +Diamond Throne. + +And the ravenous tritium was malignant. Let any external power be +applied against the plenum and it would be smashed, hurled back full +force upon its source. + +Jason had an undiagnosed example of that when he got only part of his +man back from the Valley of Kings. + +It was the power-pack-grid-suit combo that made a sleeping Buddha of the +servo-tracer on the night of Jason's call at Lonnie's mansion; bollixed +up the elaborate guards of the Peiping Temple of Mankind; and, when +Jason so openly displayed suspicion of the genius, made child's play of +what the newspapers headlined as "Scientist's Amazing Suicide Love +Pact." + +Lonnie grinned, remembering the incident. Then other memories--things +he'd witnessed through a tight-beam scanner secreted in the suburban +apartment--crowded his mind; stirring him restlessly on the Diamond +Throne. Divesting himself of imperial appurtenances, he started for a +certain locked file in the den to check the specifications of available +per-diem empresses. + +Making sure the triptych was snugly in place behind him, he paused to +flip the switch on the stereo cube. Maybe Messalina Magdalen or one of +the lesser ecdysiasts was presenting the perfection of her techniques +over the private channel at the moment, an event he would appreciate. + +Instead, the private channel presented, as the cube glowed and cleared, +the same red, clawed landscape he'd shown to Jason months before. The +disembodied voice of the commentator on Mars--not the lyrical public +announcer, but the industrial economist who served the private +channel--picked up in mid-word: "... early to have much data on the +science and material resources this dead civilization possessed, but I +recommend that every Corporation in Induscomm Cabal should place a +technical party at Mars Equatorial as soon as possible. We shall now key +in with the public spacecast. Note the texture and color range of the +adornments and artifacts. I venture that these items will prove popular +among you who can well afford such rare treasures. However, subtlety in +acquiring them is suggested. While common clamor for Public ownership is +under control, overt provocation is not recommended. Here is the +cut-over ..." + +The scene in the cube flashed and coalesced, dazzling Lonnie's eyes for +a moment. He was conscious of the landscape rushing "up"; of gigantic +walls and spires rising out of the obscurity of a quarried chasm to +tower briefly against the pink haze of the Martian sky, then expand to +give the impression of engulfing him before the scanner lens settled +under the center of a leaping, vaulted dome. + +To Lonnie, the many-acred enclosure meant nothing with its shimmering, +stone-lace pillars, its tapestries that flamed with color or traced +ghostlike, barely discernible outlines on the walls. Nor did any thought +enter his mind of the exactness of the reflected color in the stereo +cube. Hands clenched into aching fists, he stood leaning forward; +striving by sheer will-power to span the void of space and force the +scanner lens closer to the truncated pyramid of steps atop which, on a +block of plain black stone, a dessicated mummy sat erect, hands folded +in its reedy lap and on its head a blazing, coruscating radiance. + +A _Crown_! + + +IV + +Dazedly, Lonnie was conscious of the public announcer's rhapsodizing: +"... Gov-Anth's ethnologists and linguistics experts are making some +progress toward deciphering the inscription carved on the plaque. Wait! +Here's a note from Gawley Worin. You remember Gawley Worin, our famous +leg-man, folks, don't you? Well, here's a note. It ... Listen to this, +folks! Listen! This is the beginning of the first rough translation of +the inscription. Listen ... + +"'We, Wold, last of the Imperial Family of Wold who exercise our Power +from Wold, the Imperial City, throughout Wold, the Planet. We, last of +the line of Wold, who alone may wear the Tiara which is Our Power, and +our Symbol of Power, and the Symbol of Our Power throughout all the edos +of Raii's life-taking light, without fear, facing the fate--'" + +Hissing, Lonnie cut the stereo switch. He'd seen enough. Darting across +the den, he opened his communico. "Get me Sykes in our Mars unit," he +ordered the operator. "Make sure what I say is scrambled. While you're +waiting, get through to Denisen at Gov-Forn, then Raikes at Gov-Planet, +then Butchwaeu in Gov-Int. And keep this line closed--that means you, +too--while I'm talking." + +Lonnie--THE Launcelot Raichi--was going after what he wanted. + +Just under a mile away, Jason turned from the public stereo in the +rotunda of Pol-Anx. Tapping the cold bit of his pipe against his teeth +as he walked, he sought the ease of his chair. In the privacy of his +office he began to ponder. + +The months' developments gave him no surprise. Because it was the first +contact Humanity had had with a non-human race, the Mars discoveries +made an overwhelming impression on the man in the street. The result was +that for the first time in Post-Synthesis history all artifacts were +reserved for Earth Public!!! + +Everyone Who Mattered screamed, except Lonnie. He evinced a biding +calmness while attending the ceremonies marking the installation of the +Tiara of Wold in the exact center of Government's own Fane of Artifacts; +even smiling benignly on certain Gov-Ficials who seemed to perspire more +than the coolness of the evening warranted. + +Jason, loitering on the grass of Gov-Park, noted the smile and the +perspiration. The perspirers reminded him of small boys expecting a +whipping. + +Once the dedication ceremonies were over, Lonnie never returned to the +Fane to examine the Tiara. + +It was Jason the Tiara seemed to fascinate. He spent more and more time, +particularly evenings, crouching on the bench in Gov-Park across from +the Tiara, ignoring the constant stream of awed tourists silhouetted +against the blaze of light. He kept in constant touch with his desk +sergeant through his pocket communico, so Annex business didn't suffer. +And the summer was warm, to say the least, so that several Gov-Ficials +were almost regretful that the dignity of their positions forbade +following Jason's example. + +But then, too, no mere cop had their responsibilities. + +None of them was conscious of how habitually Jason frowned, scratched +his head, moved uneasily on the pleasant bench. Occasionally, he would +snap his fingers and the frown would relax. He'd switch on the +communico and speak briefly. Immediately thereafter, one or the other of +the hand-picked four in Jason's personal squad would raise his eyebrows +slightly--safely, since the pocket communico did not project video--and +take up a new position or new duties. Or, an equipment unit in Op-room +at Anx would be indifferently retuned by heedless techs. + +Then for a while Jason would vent smoke pleasantly from his malodorous +pipe until the frown would settle back between his eyebrows and he'd +begin to squirm on the bench again, glancing warily at Executive Level, +feeling helpless about the inadequacy of his resources. + +But Lonnie had gotten over feeling sad about _his_ resources months +earlier. + +The night he'd returned from the Tiara ceremonies he'd locked himself in +his den and let the on-view smile his face was wearing lapse. He tweaked +Genghis Khan's nose viciously and slammed himself down in the Diamond +Throne without donning a single imperial trapping, pounding his fist on +the cool mineral facet and staring morosely at the grid suit hanging in +its place on the wall. + +The grid suit wouldn't help him this time. The cover-alls that had +everything except the necessary invisibility to-- + +_Invisibility!_ + +Slowly, Lonnie began to grin. Very little later he had an obscure +biochemist hooked, and ended his instructions with: "... don't care if +it needs concentrated essence of chameleon juice. Invent it. And it +better work for there's going to be a total shortage of neo-hyperacth at +two-twenty-eight per cc for wifey!" + +The biochemist delivered. Lonnie didn't stop to question if it really +was essence of chameleon juice. He hurried with the beaker of viscous +fluid to his throne room, drenched every square centimeter of the grid +suit with it and watched breathlessly through the hours while it dried. + +In the glowing, shadowless illumination, the suit gradually disappeared. +First, the wall against which it hung shone mistily through it. Then +there was wall, slightly outlined by a greyish cast. And at last, only +an indescribable fuzziness that had to be sensed rather than seen. + + +V + +He took the fuzziness off its hanger and threw it up in the air toward +the center light. The light was undimmed. The fuzziness was air. It +sprawled down across the Throne and became diamond, except for the +sleeve that dangled; part air, part intricately patterned Persian +carpet. It wasn't a fuzziness, exactly, it was more of a faint tone of +difference in the color-texture feel. It was as though what was behind +the suit was miraculously translated to its facing surface and then +reflected to the eye within the nth of utter fidelity. + +Grinning, slowly Lonnie's lower lip crept out and up to squeeze its +mate. Then, because it was always better to be sure, he donned the suit +to try it against a variety of experimental backgrounds, indoors and +out. + +Over at Pol-Anx, the servo-tracer went to sleep; the desk sergeant +yanked the creaking joints of his bunioned feet down off Jason's desk; +on the bench in Gov-Park, Jason's communico squeaked briefly and Jason +and his four men rose to emergency alert. + +Two hours later, the Wold Tiara still coruscating in the Fane's blaze of +light, the servo-tracer picked up its placid humming. Jason's communico +squeaked again and Jason's men relaxed while Jason himself clutched his +head with both hands and whispered bitter things. + +At the same time, Lonnie, whistling cheerfully, drew his legs out of the +suit, shook it straight and hung it back on the wall. He was sure now. +As sure as he was that the little biochemist and his wife and quintet of +daughters would not want for neo-hyperacth or anything else any longer. +He giggled a little, thinking of Jason crouched on the bench, glaring +vacantly, utterly unconscious of Lonnie passing across the grass so +close beside him. + +At his own convenience, Lonnie selected his night; a full-moon night +because his now-invisible grid suit didn't require dark. He picked a +fairly early hour, too, because what matter if a few yawps gawked as the +Tiara vanished? And that one of those yawps would be Jason, stodgily on +his bench, gave Lonnie an extra fillip. Perhaps it was just for this +he'd let Jason plug along on a cold trail all these years. + +So that night, wearily from his bench in Gov-Park, Jason looked up at +Friday the 13th's full moon swimming amiably through its own reflected +night-brightness. His brain, tired of its everlasting shuttle between +worries, presented him with a disconnected memory-fact: "As cited by +Zollner," Jason found himself quoting a forgotten textbook, "the Moon's +reflectivity is point one seven four ... Nuts!" Angrily, he broke off, +thumbed the button of his communico, growled into the microphone on his +lapel, "Report." + +"Adams," came promptly back. "West Entry. Nothing." + +"McGillis. Patrolling rear wall. All clear in both directions as far as +I can see. An' I can see both ends of the Fane in all this moonlight, +Chief." + +"Holland. At Raichi House. Nothing." + +"Johnson. East Entry. More of the same." Then, "Say, Jase, how about it? +These double shifts are getting me." + +"What's the matter with you, now?" + +"My feet hurt, Jase. Neither one of us is as young as we used to be, +remember. How about knocking off?" + +"Hmphf ..." Johnson, Jason thought, was getting old. He'd been a good +man in his day but-- Hey, he was still a good man! It was Jason's own +stubbornness that was wearing Johnson down. Jason's useless +stubbornness. After all, without the backing of Anx or Gov, without +results from the equipment he had filched to use on Lonnie, what was the +use of everlastingly sticking around the Tiara like a fly buzzing +molasso-saccharine anyway? Jason opened his mouth to send them all home, +pressed the communico button and--shelved the relieving order +temporarily. Instead, he blasted into the microphone: "Sergeant! +SERGEANT!" + +From the communico, an intermittent drone became a gasping gulp; changed +into a violent yawn and only then turned into startled speech. "Yeah? +Huh?... Yeah, Chief!" + +"Sergeant, if I ever catch you asleep again, you won't ever get your +pension." + +"Chief, I wasn't asleep! Honest! I--" + +"All right. What's happening up there?" + +"Nothin' ... nothin' ... I wasn't asleep, Chief. I'd'a called you 'f +anything--" + + * * * * * + +Something bright, or was it dull, plucked at the edge of Jason's vision. +Inside the Fane, far down at one end. A thin, vertical bar of difference +in the blaze of light. Chin half turned, Jason stared. What?... + +"_Chief!_ That tracer's asleep--I mean--that there tracer's just GONE +t'sleep! I mean--Chief! It's--" + +"Shut up!" Jason hissed. "Holland! If you've let anyone slip past you +out of that house--" + +"Nobody did. You know me better than that, Chief." + +"Adams! McGillis! Johnson! What's happening?" + +"Nothing ..." + +"Not a thing ..." + +"_Johnson!_" Jason licked suddenly dry lips. "Dammit, Johnson, +report!... _Johnson!_" + +Silence. + +Grimly, Jason watched the vertical bar of different brightness edge back +to the Fane's East wall and disappear into the even dazzle of the +marble. He had a feeling it wasn't any use calling Johnson again. Ever. + +"Chief, what's up? What do we do?" + +"Huh? Oh ... You, Holland, get over to the East Entry as fast as your +legs'll stretch." + +"There in three minutes flat!" + +"You, too, McGillis." + +"On my way!" + +"Adams, you stick at that West Entry. If anything gets past you, I'll--" + +"Don't worry, Chief. I've got Johnson to even up for." + +Not watching how he ran, Jason hurled himself toward the East Entry; his +eyes following, in the opposite direction, a dullness moving in the +blaze inside the Fane. A smoothly moving, white on white, unfaced ghost +of whiteness within, a part of, the blazing radionic light. Just as he +rounded the East end of the Fane, he glimpsed the vertical bar of +whiteness again--the edge of the marble slab that was the entry door, +reflecting the blazing light at a different angle. Behind it, McGillis's +tightly grinning face. Under McGillis's face, the stab of blue-white +light reflected a glancing ray from the old-fashioned solid-missile +service pistol that Jason had insisted all four men arm themselves with +for this assignment. + +Over the sound of his own labored breathing as he plunged through the +East Entry, Jason heard panting behind him. Holland. Holland bettering +his promised three minutes--and with a forbidden disarmer in his hand. +Guiltily, Jason felt the weight of the disarmer he had himself secreted +under his armpit. + +Then there wasn't time for thinking or feeling, only for running down +the dazzling half-mile inside the Fane to the Tiara. Up ahead, the +different-white shape was motionless in front of it. Oddly, a dark, +vertical line appeared from the top to what would be the waist of the +shape. And for the instant it took the Tiara to vanish inside, Jason saw +clearly in the radiant light the profile of Lonnie's unmistakable face. +Saw Lonnie's eyes swivel in the direction of the thundering echoes of +their footfalls in the silence of the Fane. Saw Lonnie turn toward them, +the dark line disappearing from waist to top as if it had never been. + +Once more the different-whiteness moved. Toward them. Edging for the +back wall to skirt around them; one limb-shape fumbling in the palm of +the other. + +"No you don't!" McGillis, ahead of Jason, yelled, his howl drowned in +the smacking crack of his pistol. + +There seemed to be a waver in the different-whiteness. A small black dot +appeared against it; hung briefly, apparently unsupported, in the air; +then the undistorted bullet dropped inertly to the floor. + +"You _still_ won't!" McGillis hurled himself, shoulders low and legs +driving, at the shape. Two feet from it, he rebounded sharply, trod on +the rolling bullet, went down, his head splatting dully against the +marble floor. + +Holland grunted. Crouched to leap. Thrust his disarmer high, ready to +snap into line. + +"Hold it!" Jason commanded. Silently, eyelids barely separated to endure +the dazzle, he stared at the different-whiteness that confronted him. "I +made it this time, Lonnie," he called. "Caught up with you-- No!" His +arm flung out, startling him with the feel of his disarmer now oddly in +his hand. + +"Don't move!" + +The white-within-white's limb-shapes moved up, the hand-ends one over +the other. Through the minute spaces the overlapping fingers left, +glimpses of a thin dark line appeared. The hood was open a trifle at +mouth level, and from the opening Lonnie's voice emerged, sifting +through the protecting screen of gloves. "You can't see me! You +_can't_!" + +"No? Take one step sideways. Just _one_! Stop!" + +The different-whiteness had moved, and Holland had moved with it; +crouching now, alertly motionless, in his new position. Jason changed +the angle of his own facing. "Now do you think we can't see you?" + +"But ... but how!" + +"Your albedo is showing," Jason chuckled harshly. "You never would take +the trouble to learn the _how_ of anything, Lonnie. Sure, your damned +disguise is the same color as the marble. Maybe even exactly the same. +But the material is different, and the surface texture; it doesn't have +the same degree or quality of reflectivity to incident light that marble +does! + +"Eighty years ago, even the commercial photographers knew about +albedo--one of 'em made a picture of a cat, white on white. I told you +about the reflectivity in your stereo cube. But you wouldn't listen, +Lonnie, would you?" Jason let out a bursting peal of laughter. "_So you +tripped over your own albedo!_" + +Through the dying echoes of his own laughter, Jason caught Lonnie's +harsh whisper. "You haven't got me, copper!" + + * * * * * + +The black line marking the opening in the grid suit disappeared. The +barely-discernible limb-shapes dropped, one hand-end again fumbling at +the rheostat in the palm of the other. + +"I'll get him, Chief!" Holland was in action, his disarmer snapping down +into aim. + +"No!" Jason roared. "Holland, don't!" + +Too late. Under the pressure of Holland's finger, the disarmer's +invisible ion-stream tightened to the thread-thin lethal intensity, +leaped out against the suit's grid. Then the disarmer was luminous even +in the dazzle; even through the flesh of Holland's fist. Holland +screamed and squirmed and dropped. Part of him--the part that wasn't +burned away--reached the floor. + +The stench of carbonized flesh scoured Jason's nostrils. Stupidly, he +stared down at the headless, shoulderless, armless torso; black ... +sooty ... against the snowy gleam of the floor; conscious of the +sidelong, round-about approach of the different-white figure. He'd +failed again. Lonnie, in that damned suit, was impervious. + +Slowly, he raised his eyes from the thing on the floor to the thing +approaching. One consolation, he himself wouldn't go on living after +this. With grim frustration, he raised his arm in a final, fruitless +gesture and hurled the useless disarmer at the shape of Lonnie. + +It halted, dead, in mid-air, a yard away from the shape-thing. Dropped +straight down, clanging against the floor. + +A quiver as of mirth appeared to shake the different-whiteness. It +stooped. One hand-end fumbled at the palmed rheostat, then dropped to +pick up the disarmer. Fumbled again at the rheostat while the figure +straightened up to point the glistening projector at Jason's belly. + +The dark opening in the hood appeared again. + +Lonnie's voice chortled, "Told you I'd use whatever you tried to smear +you with. Goodbye, Jasey ..." + +The dark line was gone. The disarmer, turned to lethal potential, +settled in the shape's hand-end and began to spout. Jason went stiff. +Every muscle of his body clenching to withstand obliteration. + +He waited for it. Tight ... except his eyes that, in spite of +themselves, opened. + +Caught within the field, the full power of the disarmer poured itself +into the suit. The suit's capacity absorbed it. Almost. Then turned the +combined energies on itself. + +With the smell of frying organic matter, slowly the grid-coveralls +appeared in dazzling radiance within the dazzle of the Fane's lights; +glowed in it; red--then white--hot. Whiter than the light itself--far, +far lighter than any reflected rays could make it. + +Inside the all-encompassing, roasting grid of the melting suit, +Lonnie writhed. Faintly, as the suit failed, his screams came +through--momentarily. Then they were gone as the fused, molten heap +subsided lower ... lower ... began to trickle across the dazzling, +ice-white marble of the floor. + +Afterward, had Jason known anything at all about Lonnie's Philosophy, +he'd have immediately supplied another "rule"; making a foursome out of +the "Triple Ethic": "If you do it yourself, make sure you know _what_ +you're doing." + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Planet Stories_ September 1952. + 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. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Zero Data, by Charles Saphro + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ZERO DATA *** + +***** This file should be named 29727.txt or 29727.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/7/2/29727/ + +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, 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 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. diff --git a/29727.zip b/29727.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef2cef9 --- /dev/null +++ b/29727.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0835bc3 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #29727 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/29727) |
