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diff --git a/old/30062.txt b/old/30062.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8c172a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/30062.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1046 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Plague, by Teddy Keller + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Plague + +Author: Teddy Keller + +Illustrator: Schoenherr + +Release Date: September 22, 2009 [EBook #30062] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PLAGUE *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction + February 1961. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence + that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + + THE PLAGUE + + + By TEDDY KELLER + + + _Suppose a strictly one hundred per cent American plague + showed up.... One that attacked only people within the + political borders of the United States!_ + + + Illustrated by Schoenherr + + * * * * * + + + + +Sergeant Major Andrew McCloud ignored the jangling telephones and the +excited jabber of a room full of brass, and lit a cigarette. Somebody +had to keep his head in this mess. Everybody was about to flip. + +Like the telephone. Two days ago Corporal Bettijean Baker had been +answering the rare call on the single line--in that friendly, husky +voice that gave even generals pause--by saying, "Good morning. Office +of the Civil Health and Germ Warfare Protection Co-ordinator." Now +there was a switchboard out in the hall with a web of lines running to +a dozen girls at a half dozen desks wedged into the outer office. And +now the harried girls answered with a hasty, "Germ War Protection." + +All the brass hats in Washington had suddenly discovered this office +deep in the recesses of the Pentagon. And none of them could quite +comprehend what had happened. The situation might have been funny, or +at least pathetic, if it hadn't been so desperate. Even so, Andy +McCloud's nerves and patience had frayed thin. + +"I told you, general," he snapped to the flustered brigadier, "Colonel +Patterson was retired ten days ago. I don't know what happened. Maybe +this replacement sawbones got strangled in red tape. Anyhow, the +brand-new lieutenant hasn't showed up here. As far as I know, I'm in +charge." + +"But this is incredible," a two-star general wailed. "A mysterious +epidemic is sweeping the country, possibly an insidious germ attack +timed to precede an all-out invasion, and a noncom is sitting on top +of the whole powder keg." + +Andy's big hands clenched into fists and he had to wait a moment +before he could speak safely. Doggone the freckles and the unruly mop +of hair that give him such a boyish look. "May I remind you, general," +he said, "that I've been entombed here for two years. My staff and I +know what to do. If you'll give us some co-operation and a priority, +we'll try to figure this thing out." + +"But good heavens," a chicken colonel moaned, "this is all so +irregular. A noncom!" He said it like a dirty word. + +"Irregular, hell," the brigadier snorted, the message getting through. +"There're ways. Gentlemen, I suggest we clear out of here and let the +sergeant get to work." He took a step toward the door, and the other +officers, protesting and complaining, moved along after him. As they +drifted out, he turned and said, "We'll clear your office for top +priority." Then dead serious, he added, "Son, a whole nation could +panic at any moment. You've got to come through." + +Andy didn't waste time standing. He merely nodded to the general, +snubbed out his cigarette, and buzzed the intercom. "Bettijean, will +you bring me all the latest reports, please?" Then he peeled out of +his be-ribboned blouse and rolled up his sleeves. He allowed himself +one moment to enjoy the sight of the slim, black-headed corporal who +entered his office. + + * * * * * + +Bettijean crossed briskly to his desk. She gave him a motherly smile +as she put down a thick sheaf of papers. "You look beat," she said. +"Brass give you much trouble?" + +"Not much. We're top priority now." He ran fingers through the thick, +brown hair and massaged his scalp, trying to generate stimulation to +his wary and confused brain. "What's new?" + +"I've gone though some of these," she said. "Tried to save you a +little time." + +"Thanks. Sit down." + +She pulled up a chair and thumbed through the papers. "So far, no +fatalities. That's why there's no panic yet, I guess. But it's +spreading like ... well, like a plague." Fear flickered deep in her +dark eyes. + +"Any water reports?" Andy asked. + +"Wichita O.K., Indianapolis O.K., Tulsa O.K., Buffalo O.K.,--and a +bunch more. No indication there. Except"--she fished out a one-page +report--"some little town in Tennessee. Yesterday there was a campaign +for everybody to write their congressman about some deal and today +they were to vote on a new water system. Hardly anybody showed up at +the polls. They've all got it." + +Andy shrugged. "You can drink water, but don't vote for it. Oh, that's +a big help." He rummaged through the clutter on his desk and came up +with a crude chart. "Any trends yet?" + +"It's hitting everybody," Bettijean said helplessly. "Not many kids so +far, thank heavens. But housewives, businessmen, office workers, +teachers, preachers--rich, poor--from Florida to Alaska. Just when you +called me in, one of the girls thought she had a trend. The isolated +mountain areas of the West and South. But reports are too +fragmentary." + +"What is it?" he cried suddenly, banging the desk. "People deathly +ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until +they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of +the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" + +"In food?" + +"How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing +plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same +time--even if it was sabotage?" + +"On the wind?" + +"But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire +country--even Alaska and Hawaii--without hitting Canada or Mexico? And +why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" + +Bettijean's smooth brow furrowed and she reached across the desk to +grip his icy, sweating hands. "Andy, do ... do you think it's ... +well, an enemy?" + +"I don't know," he said. "I just don't know." + +For a long moment he sat there, trying to draw strength from her, +punishing his brain for the glimmer of an idea. Finally, shaking his +head, he pushed back into his chair and reached for the sheaf of +papers. + +"We've got to find a clue--a trend--an inkling of something." He +nodded toward the outer office. "Stop all in-coming calls. Get those +girls on lines to hospitals in every city and town in the country. +Have them contact individual doctors in rural areas. Then line up +another relief crew, and get somebody carting in more coffee and +sandwiches. And on those calls, be sure we learn the sex, age, and +occupation of the victims. You and I'll start with Washington." + +Bettijean snapped to her feet, grinned her encouragement and strode +from the room. Andy could hear her crisp instructions to the girls on +the phones. Sucking air through his teeth, he reached for his phone +and directory. + +He dialed until every finger of his right hand was sore. He spoke to +worried doctors and frantic hospital administrators and hysterical +nurses. His firm, fine penmanship deteriorated to a barely legible +scrawl as writer's cramp knotted his hand and arm. His voice burned +down to a rasping whisper. But columns climbed up his rough chart and +broken lines pointed vaguely to trends. + + * * * * * + +It was hours later when Bettijean came back into the office with +another stack of papers. Andy hung up his phone and reached for a +cigarette. At that moment the door banged open. Nerves raw, Bettijean +cried out. Andy's cigarette tumbled from his trembling fingers. + +"Sergeant," the chicken colonel barked, parading into the office. + +Andy swore under his breath and eyed the two young officers who +trailed after the colonel. Emotionally exhausted, he had to clamp his +jaw against a huge laugh that struggled up in his throat. For just an +instant there, the colonel had reminded him of a movie version of +General Rommel strutting up and down before his tanks. But it wasn't a +swagger stick the colonel had tucked under his arm. It was a folded +newspaper. Opening it, the colonel flung it down on Andy's desk. + +"RED PLAGUE SWEEPS NATION," the scare headline screamed. Andy's first +glance caught such phrases as "alleged Russian plot" and "germ +warfare" and "authorities hopelessly baffled." + +Snatching the paper, Andy balled it and hurled it from him. "That'll +help a lot," he growled hoarsely. + +"Well, then, Sergeant." The colonel tried to relax his square face, +but tension rode every weathered wrinkle and fear glinted behind the +pale gray eyes. "So you finally recognize the gravity of the +situation." + +Andy's head snapped up, heated words searing towards his lips. +Bettijean stepped quickly around the desk and laid a steady hand on +his shoulder. + +"Colonel," she said levelly, "you should know better than that." + +A shocked young captain exploded, "Corporal. Maybe you'd better report +to--" + +"All right," Andy said sharply. + +For a long moment he stared at his clenched fists. Then he exhaled +slowly and, to the colonel, flatly and without apology, he said, +"You'll have to excuse the people in this office if they overlook some +of the G.I. niceties. We've been without sleep for two days, we're +surviving on sandwiches and coffee, and we're fighting a war here that +makes every other one look like a Sunday School picnic." He felt +Bettijean's hand tighten reassuringly on his shoulder and he gave her +a tired smile. Then he hunched forward and picked up a report. "So say +what you came here to say and let us get back to work." + +"Sergeant," the captain said, as if reading from a manual, +"insubordination cannot be tolerated, even under emergency conditions. +Your conduct here will be noted and--" + +"Oh, good heavens!" Bettijean cried, her fingers biting into Andy's +shoulder. "Do you have to come in here trying to throw your weight +around when this man--" + +"That's enough," the colonel snapped. "I had hoped that you two would +co-operate, but...." He let the sentence trail off as he swelled up a +bit with his own importance. "I have turned Washington upside down to +get these two officers from the surgeon general's office. Sergeant. +Corporal. You are relieved of your duties as of this moment. You will +report to my office at once for suitable disciplinary action." + +Bettijean sucked in a strained breath and her hand flew to her mouth. +"But you can't--" + +"Let's go," Andy said, pushing up from his chair. Ignoring the brass, +he turned to her and brushed his lips across hers. "Let them sweat a +while. Let 'em have the whole stinking business. Whatever they do to +us, at least we can get some sleep." + +"But you can't quit now," Bettijean protested. "These brass hats don't +know from--" + +"Corporal!" the colonel roared. + + * * * * * + +And from the door, an icy voice said, "Yes, colonel?" + +The colonel and his captains wheeled, stared and saluted. "Oh, +general," the colonel said. "I was just--" + +"I know," the brigadier said, stepping into the room. "I've been +listening to you. And I thought I suggested that everybody leave the +sergeant and his staff alone." + +"But, general, I--" + +The general showed the colonel his back and motioned Andy into his +chair. He glanced to Bettijean and a smile warmed his wedge face. +"Corporal, were you speaking just then as a woman or as a soldier?" + +Crimson erupted into Bettijean's face and her tight laugh said many +things. She shrugged. "Both I guess." + +The general waved her to a chair and, oblivious of the colonel, pulled +up a chair for himself. The last trace of humor drained from his face +as he leaned elbows on the desk. "Andy, this is even worse than we had +feared." + +Andy fumbled for a cigarette and Bettijean passed him a match. A +captain opened his mouth to speak, but the colonel shushed him. + +"I've just come from Intelligence," the general said. "We haven't had +a report--nothing from our agents, from the Diplomatic Corps, from the +civilian newspapermen--not a word from any Iron Curtain country for a +day and half. Everybody's frantic. The last item we had--it was a +coded message the Reds'd tried to censor--was an indication of +something big in the works." + +"A day and half ago," Andy mused. "Just about the time we knew we had +an epidemic. And about the time they knew it." + +"It could be just propaganda," Bettijean said hopefully, "proving that +they could cripple us from within." + +The general nodded. "Or it could be the softening up for an all-out +effort. Every American base in the world is alerted and every +serviceman is being issued live ammunition. If we're wrong, we've +still got an epidemic and panic that could touch it off. If we're +right ... well, we've got to know. What can you do?" + +Andy dropped his haggard face into his hands. His voice came through +muffled. "I can sit here and cry." For an eternity he sat there, +futility piling on helplessness, aware of Bettijean's hand on his arm. +He heard the colonel try to speak and sensed the general's movement +that silenced him. + +Suddenly he sat upright and slapped a palm down on the desk. "We'll +find your answers, sir. All we ask is co-operation." + +The general gave both Andy and Bettijean a long, sober look, then +launched himself from the chair. Pivoting, he said, "Colonel, you and +your captains will be stationed by that switchboard out there. For the +duration of this emergency, you will take orders only from the +sergeant and the corporal here." + +"But, general," the colonel wailed, "a noncom? I'm assigned--" + +The general snorted. "Insubordination cannot be tolerated--unless you +find a two-star general to outrank me. Now, as I said before, let's +get out of here and let these people work." + + * * * * * + +The brass exited wordlessly. Bettijean sighed noisily. Andy found his +cigarette dead and lit another. He fancied a tiny lever in his brain +and he shifted gears to direct his thinking back into the proper +channel. Abruptly his fatigue began to lift. He picked up the new pile +of reports Bettijean had brought in. + +She move around the desk and sat, noting the phone book he had used, +studying the names he had crossed off. "Did you learn anything?" she +asked. + +Andy coughed, trying to clear his raw throat. "It's crazy," he said. +"From the Senate and House on down, I haven't found a single +government worker sick." + +"I found a few," she said. "Over in a Virginia hospital." + +"But I did find," Andy said, flipping through pages of his own +scrawl, "a society matron and her social secretary, a whole flock of +office workers--business, not government--and new parents and newly +engaged girls and...." He shrugged. + +"Did you notice anything significant about those office workers?" + +Andy nodded. "I was going to ask you the same, since I was just +guessing. I hadn't had time to check it out." + +"Well, I checked some. Practically none of my victims came from big +offices, either business or industry. They were all out of one and +two-girl offices or small businesses." + +"That was my guess. And do you know that I didn't find a doctor, +dentist or attorney?" + +"Nor a single postal worker." + +Andy tried to smile. "One thing we do know. It's not a communicable +thing. Thank heaven for--" + +He broke off as a cute blonde entered and put stacks of reports before +both Andy and Bettijean. The girl hesitated, fidgeting, fingers to her +teeth. Then, without speaking, she hurried out. + +Andy stared at the top sheet and groaned. "This may be something. Half +the adult population of Aspen, Colorado, is down." + +"What?" Bettijean frowned over the report in her hands. "It's the same +thing--only not quite as severe--in Taos and Santa Fe, New Mexico." + +"Writers?" + +"Mostly. Some artists, too, and musicians. And poets are among the +hard hit." + +"This is insane," Andy muttered. "Doctors and dentists are +fine--writers and poets are sick. Make sense out of that." + +Bettijean held up a paper and managed a confused smile. "Here's a +country doctor in Tennessee. He doesn't even know what it's all about. +Nobody's sick in his valley." + +"Somebody in our outer office is organized," Andy said, pulling at his +cigarette. "Here're reports from a dozen military installations all +lumped together." + +"What does it show?" + +"Black-out. By order of somebody higher up--no medical releases. Must +mean they've got it." He scratched the growing stubble on his chin. +"If this were a fifth column setup, wouldn't the armed forces be the +first hit?" + +"Sure," Bettijean brightened, then sobered. "Maybe not. The brass +could keep it secret if an epidemic hit an army camp. And they could +slap a control condition on any military area. But the panic will come +from the general public." + +"Here's another batch," Andy said. "Small college towns under +twenty-five thousand population. All hard hit." + +"Well, it's not split intellectually. Small colleges and small offices +and writers get it. Doctors don't and dentists don't. But we can't +tell who's got it on the military bases." + +"And it's not geographical. Look, remember those two reports from +Tennessee? That place where they voted on water bonds or something, +everybody had it. But the country doctor in another section hadn't +even heard of it." Andy could only shake his head. + +Bettijean heaved herself up from the chair and trudged back to the +outer office. She returned momentarily with a tray of food. Putting a +paper cup of coffee and a sandwich in front of Andy, she sat down and +nibbled at her snack like an exhausted chipmunk. + +Andy banged a fist at his desk again. Coffee splashed over the rim of +his cup onto the clutter of papers. "It's here," he said angrily. +"It's here somewhere, but we can't find it." + +"The answer?" + +"Of course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink +or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? +What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? +What are we missing? What--" + + * * * * * + +In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, +then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. + +Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to +Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." + +It was the girl who had been so nervous in his office earlier. Now she +lay in a pathetic little heap between her desk and chair, whimpering, +shivering, eyes wide with horror. The other girls clustered at the +hall door, plainly ready to stampede. + +"It's not contagious," Andy growled. "Find some blankets or coats to +cover her. And get a glass of water." + +The other girls, glad for the excuse, dashed away. Andy scooped up the +fallen girl and put her down gently on the close-jammed desks. He used +a chair cushion for a pillow. By then the other girls were back with a +blanket and the glass of water. He covered the girl, gave her a sip of +water and heard somebody murmur, "Poor Janis." + +"Now," Andy said brightly, "how's that, Janis?" + +She mustered a smile, and breathed, "Better. I ... I was so scared. +Fever and dizzy ... symptoms like the epidemic." + +"Now you know there's nothing to be afraid of," Andy said, feeling +suddenly and ridiculously like a pill roller with a practiced bedside +manner. "You know you may feel pretty miserable, but nobody's conked +out with this stuff yet." + +Janis breathed out and her taut body relaxed. + +"Don't hurry," Andy said, "but I want you to tell me everything that +you did--everything you ate or drank--in the last ... oh, twelve +hours." He felt a pressure behind him and swiveled his head to see +Bettijean standing there. He tried to smile. + +"What time is it?" Janis asked weakly. + +Andy glanced to a wall clock, then gave it a double take. + +One of the girls said, "It's three o'clock in the morning." She edged +nearer Andy, obviously eager to replace Janis as the center of +attention. Andy ignored her. + +"I ... I've been here since ... golly, yesterday morning at nine," +Janis said. "I came to work as usual and...." + +Slowly, haltingly, she recited the routine of a routine work day, then +told about the quick snack that sufficed for supper and about staying +on her phone and typewriter for another five hours. "It was about +eleven when the relief crew came in." + +"What did you do then?" Andy asked. + +"I ... I took a break and...." Her ivory skin reddened, the color +spreading into the roots of her fluffy curls, and she turned her face +away from Andy. "And I had a sandwich and some coffee and got a little +nap in the ladies' lounge and ... and that's all." + +"And that's not all," Andy prompted. "What else?" + +"Nothing," Janis said too quickly. + +Andy shook his head. "Tell it all and maybe it'll help." + +"But ... but...." + +"Was it something against regulations?" + +"I ... I don't know. I think...." + +"I'll vouch for your job in this office." + +"Well...." She seemed on the verge of tears and her pleading glance +sought out Andy, then Bettijean, then her co-workers. Finally, +resigned, she said, "I ... I wrote a letter to my mother." + +Andy swallowed against his groan of disappointment. "And you told her +about what we were doing here." + +Janis nodded, and tears welled into her wide eyes. + +"Did you mail it?" + +"Y ... yes." + +"You didn't use a government envelope to save a stamp?" + +"Oh, no. I always carry a few stamps with me." She choked down a sob. +"Did I do wrong?" + +"No, I don't think so," Andy said, patting her shoulder. "There's +certainly nothing secret about this epidemic. Now you just take it +easy and--. Oh, here's a doctor now." + +The doctor, a white-headed Air Force major, bustled into the room. A +lab technician in a white smock was close behind. Andy could only +shrug and indicate the girl. + +Turning away, lighting a cigarette, he tried to focus on the tangle of +thoughts that spun through his head. Doctors, writers, society +matrons, office workers--Aspen, Taos and college towns--thousands of +people sick--but none in that valley in Tennessee--and few government +workers--just one girl in his office--and she was sicker and more +frightened about a letter--and.... + +"Hey, wait!" Andy yelled. + +Everyone in the room froze as Andy spun around, dashed to Bettijean's +desk and yanked out the wide, top drawer. He pawed through it, +straightened, then leaped across to the desk Janis had used. He +snatched open drawer after drawer. In a bottom one he found her purse. +Ripping it open, he dumped the contents on the desk and clawed through +the pile until he found what he wanted. Handing it to the lab +technician, he said, "Get me a report. Fast." + +The technician darted out. + +Andy wheeled to Bettijean. "Get the brass in here. And call the +general first." To the doctor, he said, "Give that girl the best of +everything." + +Then he ducked back to his own office and to the pile of reports. He +was still poring over them when the general arrived. Half a dozen +other brass hats, none of whom had been to bed, were close behind. The +lab technician arrived a minute later. He shook his head as he handed +his hastily scribbled report to Andy. + + * * * * * + +It was Bettijean who squeezed into the office and broke the brittle +silence. "Andy, for heaven's sake, what is it?" Then she moved around +the desk to stand behind him as he faced the officers. + +"Have you got something?" the brigadier asked. "Some girl outside was +babbling about writers and doctors, and dentists and college students, +and little secretaries and big secretaries. Have you established a +trend?" + +Andy glanced at the lab report and his smile was as relieved as it was +weary. "Our problem," he said, "was in figuring out what a writer does +that a doctor doesn't--why girls from small offices were sick--and why +senators and postal workers weren't--why college students caught the +bug and people in a Tennessee community didn't. + +"The lab report isn't complete. They haven't had time to isolate the +poison and prescribe medication. But"--he held up a four-cent +stamp--"here's the villain, gentlemen." + +The big brass stood stunned and shocked. Mouths flapped open and eyes +bugged at Andy, at the stamp. + +Bettijean said, "Sure. College kids and engaged girls and new parents +and especially writers and artists and poets--they'd all lick lots of +stamps. Professional men have secretaries. Big offices have +postage-meter machines. And government offices have free franking. +And"--she threw her arms around the sergeant's neck--"Andy, you're +wonderful." + +"The old American ingenuity," the colonel said, reaching for Andy's +phone. "I knew we could lick it. Now all we have to do--" + +"At ease, colonel," the brigadier said sharply. He waited until the +colonel had retreated, then addressed Andy. "It's your show. What do +you suggest?" + +"Get somebody--maybe even the President--on all radio and TV networks. +Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking any +stamps. Then--" + +He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, +then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebody +checking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where they +print stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted years +ago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. + +"But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pure +accident--some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep the +stickum in barrels? Find out who had access. And ... oh, the phone +call. That was the lab. The antidote's simple and the cure should be +quick. They can phone or broadcast the medical information to doctors. +The man on the phone said they could start emptying hospitals in six +hours. And maybe we should release some propaganda. "United States +whips mystery virus," or something like that. And we could send the +Kremlin a stamp collection and.... Aw, you take it, sir. I'm pooped." + + * * * * * + +The general wheeled to fire a salvo of commands. Officers poured into +the corridor. Only the brigadier remained, a puzzled frown crinkling +his granite brow. + +"But you said that postal workers weren't getting sick." + +Andy chucked. "That's right. Did you ever see a post office clerk +lick a stamp? They always use a sponge." + +The general looked to Bettijean, to Andy, to the stamp. He grinned and +the grin became a rumbling laugh. "How would you two like a thirty-day +furlough to rest up--or to get better acquainted?" + +Bettijean squealed. Andy reached for her hand. + +"And while you're gone," the general continued, "I'll see what strings +I can pull. If I can't wangle you a couple of battlefield commissions, +I'll zip you both through O.C.S. so fast you won't even have time to +pin on the bars." + +But neither Andy nor Bettijean had heard a word after the mention of +furlough. Like a pair of puppy-lovers, they were sinking into the +depths of each other's eyes. + +And the general was still chuckling as he picked up the lone four-cent +stamp in his left hand, made a gun of his right hand, and marched the +stamp out of the office under guard. + +THE END + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Plague, by Teddy Keller + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PLAGUE *** + +***** This file should be named 30062.txt or 30062.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/0/6/30062/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, 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. 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