NormalizeHEADmain

10 files changed, 17 insertions, 3106 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d7b82bc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,4 @@
+*.txt text eol=lf
+*.htm text eol=lf
+*.html text eol=lf
+*.md text eol=lf
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..0dd3e4b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #66612 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66612)
diff --git a/old/66612-0.txt b/old/66612-0.txt
deleted file mode 100644
index 6efa6b1..0000000
--- a/old/66612-0.txt
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1,1459 +0,0 @@
-The Project Gutenberg eBook of Wanted: One Sane Man, by Frank M. Robinson
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: Wanted: One Sane Man
-
-Author: Frank M. Robinson
-
-Release Date: October 26, 2021 [eBook #66612]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed
-             Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WANTED: ONE SANE MAN ***
-
-
-
-
-                         WANTED: One Sane Man
-
-                         By Frank M. Robinson
-
-               Personnel Incorporated bragged that they
-            could supply a man for any job. Maxwell doubted
-            this, needing a space pilot for the first Lunar
-           trip. Now, if he had just asked for a lunatic....
-
-           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
-              Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
-                               June 1955
-         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
-         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
-
-
-The small man adjusted his bi-focals and stared critically at the
-huge brass nameplate over the glass entrance doors. The plate read
-"Personnel Incorporated" in neat, modest lettering. Directly above the
-plate was a traveling neon sign which informed the public in letters
-six feet tall that:
-
-PERSONNEL CAN SUPPLY THE MAN FOR ANY JOB!--SEVENTY-FIVE PER CENT
-OF THE PERSONNEL PROBLEMS ON THE AMERICAN CONTINENT ARE HANDLED BY
-PERSONNEL--DOES YOUR JOB SEEM BORING LATELY? SEE PERSONNEL AND BE
-PSYCHOLOGICALLY FITTED FOR YOUR WORK!--PERSONNEL CAN SUPPLY THE MAN FOR
-ANY JOB!--SEVENTY-FIVE PER CENT OF THE....
-
-The small man looked at it for a minute and turned to his tall
-companion.
-
-"Tell me, Maxwell, why the seventy-five? Why not eighty or
-eighty-three?"
-
-Maxwell glanced up at the sign. "If they do seventy-six per cent or
-more of the business, they're a monopoly. It must pain Whiteford to
-have to hold himself down to only seventy-five."
-
-"Whiteford?"
-
-Maxwell looked surprised. "You haven't heard of him? The newest boy
-wonder in the business world? He's the genius who runs this modern
-slave market." He looked at his watch. "And, incidentally, he's also
-the guy we've got an appointment with in five minutes."
-
-They joined the crowds streaming up the wide, granite steps and found
-themselves in the large entrance lobby, directly opposite the battery
-of ascending elevators.
-
-The small man approached the starter. "--ah--pardon me, but would you
-tell us what floor Personnel Incorporated is on?"
-
-The starter looked shocked. "Poisonnel ain't just on one floor, Mister,
-it's the whole building. Who'dja wanna see?"
-
-"We wanted to--well, that is--whoever's in...."
-
-The starter brushed him aside. "Step outta the way of the passengers,
-Mister. Be with ya in a second.... Okay, lady, maid soivice and
-domestics is on the thoity-foist floor. Don't shove in the elevator,
-please! Next elevator, _please!_"
-
-He turned back to the small man.
-
-"We got administration on the foist floor. Second floor, automotive and
-transportation. Assemblers, welders, painters, cushion upholsterers,
-sprayers, mock-up men, testers and greasers. Thoid floor, electrical.
-Solderers, cabinet workers, wirers, draftsmen, coil-winders, and design
-expoits. Next floor, entertainers. Everything from acrobats to zither
-players and concert ottists. Fifth...."
-
-"We want to see Whiteford," Maxwell cut in impatiently.
-
-The starter looked impressed. "The Chief, eh? Administration's on
-the foist floor, like I told ya, Mister. Straight down to the end of
-the curridor and to your left. Ya can't miss it." He had a second
-thought and turned and shouted after them. "If ya want a job, General
-Employment's on the second curridor to your right!"
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-"Think this will do any good?" the small man asked, mopping the sweat
-off his bald head.
-
-"We don't have any choice. We've got to try it." Maxwell pushed open
-one of the double swinging doors marked "Office of the President."
-
-They walked into the outer fringes of a whirlpool of noise and bedlam,
-rivaling that of a stock exchange or a grain pit in the middle of the
-harvesting season. The room covered more than an acre, with ninety
-per cent of the floor space devoted to adding machines, typewriters,
-tabulators, collators, sorters, key punches, automatic alphabetizers
-and the other ten per cent to their operators. A battery of sorters on
-their left digested stacks of small, white cards and spewed forth more
-stacks of them into waiting hoppers. On their right, the nearest of
-three switchboard operators smiled a weak greeting and turned back to
-her board.
-
-"Personnel Incorporated. National Carbide and Carbon? Just a moment,
-please. I'll connect you with the president's office.... Personnel
-Incorporated. Chrysler Corporation? That's the automotive division,
-extension 2214.... Personnel Incorporated. Shanghai Importing Company?
-I believe our sales division can furnish you with the men, extension
-230."
-
-She turned to the small man. "The monster's office is that glass
-enclosure down there"--she pointed to a glassed-in office at the
-end of the room--"and while there, tell him he'll have to get some
-more help for the switchboard." She mopped her forehead with a soggy
-handkerchief. "It's more than we can handle."
-
-The center of the whirlpool was the glassed-in office, with the name
-WHITEFORD on the door--nothing else. Whiteford himself, neatly dressed
-in a business suit with creases sharp enough to shave with, was sitting
-behind half an acre of mahogany desk. He was young, about 30, with the
-healthy and slightly overfed look of a graduated college halfback.
-Maxwell decided he didn't like him. He looked like a character who
-exuded confidence like perspiration.
-
-Whiteford didn't bother looking up but continued barking into the
-intercom.
-
-"Lyons? About the Amazon Valley deal. Fly in three thousand
-semi-skilled next week. Get 'em housed in quonset huts and make
-arrangements with a coast concern for shipments of fresh fruits and
-vegetables for the central kitchen." He paused. "Better call in the bug
-experts to liquidate the mosquitoes instead of spending the money for
-netting and anti-malaria. Cheaper in the long run."
-
-He took time out to gulp some pills from a bottle and wash them down
-with water from a desk side tap. "Just a quick lunch," he apologized.
-His voice was brisk. "What can I do for you?"
-
-The small man gestured to himself and his companion. "I'm George
-Burger, director of the experimental division at Atlantic Motors. And
-this is Frank Maxwell; he's with the government. We have something
-important we'd like to discuss...."
-
-"Be glad to,"--Whiteford looked at his watch--"for about four minutes.
-I have an engagement at eleven. As you were saying, Mister Bircher?"
-
-The small man winced. "Burger. We need...."
-
-A secretary came in on the run.
-
-"Call for you from London, Mr. Whiteford! About dredging the Thames...."
-
-"... a man...."
-
-"I'll take it out there in a moment. Miss Hancock."
-
-"... to pilot...."
-
-The phone rang.
-
-"... a rocket...."
-
-"IBM? Call me back in half an hour."
-
-"... to the...."
-
-Whiteford flipped the intercom switch.
-
-"Tell the man from General Motors we'll be able to supply the gear
-specialists, Miss Hancock."
-
-"... moon."
-
-Whiteford glanced at his watch again and frowned.
-
-"Really, Burger, I'm a very busy man. You'll have to cut it short."
-
-Maxwell shouldered past Burger and leaned possessively on Whiteford's
-desk, his jaw an inch from Whiteford's own.
-
-"It so happens that what concerns Atlantic Motors vitally concerns
-the government, Whiteford! We'd appreciate it if you could stretch
-that generosity of yours and give us five minutes of your undivided
-attention. After all, we _did_ have an appointment!"
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Whiteford turned off the intercom and leaned back in his swivel chair,
-his fingers tapping nervously on the chair arm.
-
-"Sorry Maxwell, but keeping the organization running keeps me on the
-hump."
-
-"Like it kept the slavers of the eighteenth century on the hump,"
-Maxwell growled.
-
-Whiteford's eyebrows shot up.
-
-"Personnel Incorporated was founded on one of the most obvious needs
-of our civilization, Maxwell! With the expansion of production
-after the first atomic war, the demand for personnel, and increasing
-labor-management difficulties, it was obvious that dozens of little
-employment agencies and company employment divisions were only
-hampering manufacturing facilities. A single, centralized bureau was
-needed. Personnel Incorporated filled that need. From myself on down,
-everybody who's been handled by Personnel has been psychologically
-tested for their job--which means strikes and walkouts have been cut to
-a minimum.
-
-"Modern civilization would be impossible without Personnel, Maxwell!
-But that's water over the dam." He nodded to Burger. "You have a
-personnel problem?"
-
-"That's why I came here," Burger said testily. "As you may know, Mr.
-Whiteford, Atlantic Motors has constructed a rocket to make the first
-flight to the moon. We need a pilot for that rocket."
-
-Whiteford looked bored. "All the Sunday supplements have carried
-articles about the A-M rocket. As for the pilot, there are thousands of
-men in this country alone who are probably qualified for the job. To
-find one would be routine, I should think."
-
-"It's somewhat more complicated than picking a pilot out of a hat, Mr.
-Whiteford. Not just any pilot will do. There are, of course, certain
-technical qualifications but there are more important ones than that.
-Our man would have to be perfect mentally--no nervousness, neurosis,
-streaks of instability or anything of the sort. We could hardly trust
-75,000,000 dollars worth of rocket to a man who wasn't sound physically
-and mentally."
-
-"I take it you couldn't find any?"
-
-Burger shook his head.
-
-"Where does the government come in?"
-
-"The government is naturally interested in rockets," Maxwell said.
-"It's rumored the Russians aren't far behind us. At any rate, without a
-pilot, the rocket is useless."
-
-"And the government has been unsuccessful, too?"
-
-Maxwell hesitated. "As a matter of fact we found a pilot--at least we
-thought we had. He piloted the first rocket that was sent--one flight
-has been attempted before. From what little evidence we can gather, it
-appears he deliberately crashed the rocket on the moon."
-
-"Why?"
-
-Maxwell shrugged. "Off his trolley, I suppose. That's reason number one
-for our qualifications being so high."
-
-"I frankly don't think you can find one," Burger added nastily.
-"Atlantic Motors has tried for months with no success."
-
-"Personnel Incorporated is not Atlantic Motors, Burger," Whiteford
-said sarcastically. "We've never failed! _Never_ failed!" He repeated
-it like a liturgy. "We don't intend to fail now. Come back in a week
-and we'll have your man."
-
-"Just like the Royal Canadian Mounted," Maxwell muttered.
-
-When they had gone, Whiteford flipped the switch of the intercom.
-
-"Miss Hancock? Cancel my appointment with the directors of AT&T. Call
-in the company psychologists to prepare a personnel test. Contact
-Haskins at our London office and Schubert in Paris and tell them we
-intend to launch a campaign for rocket pilots immediately. Examination
-papers for applicants will be forwarded at once. Notify our other
-branch offices to the same effect. All on the QT, you understand.
-And Miss Hancock--have the psychologists test our advertising for
-confidence appeal. A representative of Atlantic Motors just implied we
-couldn't supply them with help!"
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-"Those cards represent exactly 250,342 applicants," Whiteford said
-proudly, gesturing to stacks of tabulating cards by the sorting
-machine. Burger looked mildly surprised. "All of them qualified to be
-the pilot?"
-
-Whiteford smiled indulgently. "Probably only a small
-proportion--several thousand or so. Each hole punched in the card
-represents either the applicant's physical condition, his technical
-knowledge, or answers to carefully phrased questions which will reveal
-his mental state. The sorting machine here,"--he patted the mechanical
-monster at his side--"has been set to sort out only those cards that
-meet with the qualifications the company psychologists have set up.
-
-"I've arranged this demonstration to show the efficiency of the
-corporation; we have quite a reputation for fulfilling contracts."
-He shot a glance at Burger. "We'll run through this large stack
-here--applicants from England--first."
-
-Maxwell pointed curiously to a small pile. "Where's that stack from?"
-
-Whiteford glanced at it casually. "That stack was forwarded from our
-branch office in Hindustan. Some Indians make darn good pilot material."
-
-He inserted part of the stack of cards from England into the chute of
-the machine and started it up. There was a slow snick-snick-snick as
-the cards passed through the intricate system of metal "fingers" that
-would separate the sheep from the goats--or, in this case, the pilots
-from the remainder of the applicants.
-
-The chute emptied and no cards had been tossed out into the acceptance
-hopper.
-
-"No luck, eh?" Maxwell couldn't help grinning.
-
-Whiteford frowned. "We've just started."
-
-Two hours later the entire stack of cards--including the stack from
-Hindustan--had been run through.
-
-The acceptance hopper was still empty.
-
-Whiteford was in his shirt sleeves, beads of sweat dripping unnoticed
-off the tip of his nose.
-
-"I can't understand," he muttered. "I can't believe.... Miss Hancock!
-Call in Dr. Burroughs!"
-
-When the doctor had showed up, Whiteford pointed to the cards lying in
-heaps on the floor.
-
-"Not a one qualified--not a single one! Why, Burroughs?"
-
-Burroughs hemmed and hawed and finally decided to risk it. "Well,
-that's ah--not too hard to understand. Unfortunately the majority of
-applicants were nothing more than--if you'll pardon me--crackpots. The
-kind who will volunteer for anything. Most of them lacked the technical
-knowledge. Those who had it either failed the physical or were again,
-mentally unstable. Only slightly, in most cases, but enough so there
-was a danger of it becoming pronounced while in the rocket. Those who
-might've qualified weren't interested."
-
-"Why not? The pay was good."
-
-"Let me pose a question. What _entirely_ sane man would volunteer, for
-any amount of money, to pilot a plutonium engine rocket around the moon
-and back?"
-
-Whiteford looked blank.
-
-"In other words--personnel can't supply the man. Is that it?" Maxwell
-interrupted.
-
-Burroughs spread his hands in an expansive gesture. "Well, now, I
-wouldn't say that. Someplace there must be a man...."
-
-Whiteford turned and went into his office, slamming the door behind
-him. They could see him collapse into his swivel chair.
-
-"Well, what do you suppose came over him?" Burger gasped.
-
-"I suspect that God has finally found a stone he couldn't lift,"
-Maxwell murmured.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Whiteford kneaded his knuckles and stared morosely out the window. From
-time to time his hand strayed to the intercom and then he'd snap it
-back.
-
-He'd been sitting that way for two hours. For two hours the gigantic
-cogs of Personnel Incorporated had been stopped by a grain of sand. Or
-at least, so it seemed.
-
-Suddenly his hand lashed out and he flipped the intercom switch.
-
-"Would you please come here a minute, Miss Hancock?"
-
-"Y-yes, Mr. Whiteford?"
-
-"Do you think you could run Personnel Incorporated while I'm away?"
-
-"Well--I don't--I hardly think I'm capable...."
-
-"You're not," Whiteford said drily. "But you're more capable than
-anyone else that's here. You'll assume my duties until I return."
-
-He paused at the door.
-
-"In case anyone asks, I'll be gone for a month."
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Burger wrung his hands nervously. "Only a half hour until take-off
-time, Mr. Whiteford. I think we've thought of everything. You realize
-that your position on the rocket, actually, is only the safety factor
-of the rocket itself. And, of course, an observer is preferable.
-First hand accounts of human reactions on board the rocket will be
-invaluable. You've been drilled for two weeks in your duties on board,
-the listing of meter readings in the log book, a careful diary of your
-own physiological reactions, etc. And naturally, what to do in case
-of an emergency. Of course, the chances are several million to one of
-anything actually going wrong with the rocket.
-
-"Oh yes, the pictures of the first rocket flight. The film actually
-doesn't show much but it might be of interest."
-
-Whiteford followed him to the small projection room.
-
-"The camera was tracked by radar," Burger exclaimed. "We can follow
-the rocket all the way. I'll speed up the action a little." The
-pin-point of light on the screen leaped ahead and in a few moments the
-pock-marked face of the moon came into view. Burger slowed the action
-down to normal. The tiny tad-pole of light swam closer to the moon.
-Suddenly it swerved and in a moment there was a tiny burst of light on
-one of the craters and the screen went blank.
-
-"The crash, eh?"
-
-Burger nodded. "You can still back out, you know. You can up until the
-moment you step inside the rocket."
-
-"Don't be silly!" Whiteford snorted.
-
-They went out to the landing field.
-
-"Incidentally, Mr. Whiteford, you'll find a small cabinet on board
-with various books, puzzles, and what-not for your leisure hours.
-They've been scientifically selected for your type of personality."
-Burger smiled faintly. "In fact, you'll discover that the pilot has
-been provided for very well, considering weight limitations and all.
-Practically every possible occurrence has been provided for. I'm sure
-you'll experience no difficulty on the flight."
-
-Whiteford nodded absently. "Just be sure and tell Maxwell that
-Personnel Incorporated can always supply the man! Always!"
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Inside the cabin, Whiteford methodically went through the take-off
-preparations he had practiced during the previous two weeks. He gave
-the chronometer, synchronized to start with the take-off, a quick
-inspection and turned to the meters on the instrument panel. He
-quickly went over the small control board that would permit him to
-make deviations and corrections in the ship's course of as much as
-five degrees and checked the geiger counter apparatus which emitted a
-faint burp as a stray cosmic ray hit it. The Counter was designed to
-warn against stray radiation from the engines (but the chances were ten
-million to one that there would be any, Burger had said). He flicked
-through the pages of the ship's log and idly noted the entry pages for
-meter readings and observations.
-
-Against the rear bulkhead of the small cabin was a hammock-like affair,
-suspended by coil springs. He punched the hammock casually. It would
-serve to cushion the effects of acceleration at the take-off and as a
-bunk for the pilot the rest of the trip. Near it and almost a part of
-the deck was a food locker. There was a small spigot at the top that
-served as a water tap for the tank below.
-
-Around the top of the cabin there was a series of small ports of
-steel-strong plastic, permitting an outside view. The ports were
-currently closed with steel over-lap caps.
-
-He looked down at his watch. Two minutes until take-off. He strapped
-himself in the hammock and bounced once or twice to test the springs.
-They hardly gave at all under his efforts; they were designed to give
-way under the acceleration of 8 or 9 g's. The hammock and the skin
-tight pilot suit were supposed to keep him together under the crushing
-weight of acceleration, at which time he'd be like jelly in a mould.
-
-A light sweat sprung out on his forehead. If something went wrong with
-the apparatus, they could scrape him off the rear bulkhead like a
-pancake off a hot griddle. He hadn't thought of that before. Not only
-that but how about radiation from the engines? Shielded, of course, but
-even the best engineers could sometimes.... Good God, how did he ever
-get....
-
-There was a sudden surge of the ship and the springs holding the
-hammock stretched as easy as a dime store rubber-band. He felt his
-weight double and treble. His breath came in tight little gasps as
-if a sorting machine had been dumped on his chest. The weight kept
-increasing and the cabin started to spin. Little black dots danced
-around the edges of his area of vision and gradually covered it. He
-felt he was smothering in a dark, black pit....
-
-Maxwell's face flashed at him out of the darkness. "Always supply
-the man, eh?" it sneered. Hands appeared before the face and dropped
-application cards until they fluttered in front of it like snow. The
-snow cleared and he could see prim Miss Hancock coming toward him, a
-suddenly alluring Miss Hancock sans glasses and most everything else.
-He had a faint impression of being shocked. The image faded and he
-saw himself being chased down the boulevard by a group of animated
-tabulating machines. He made it to the Personnel building and made a
-dash for the elevator. Instead of going up, the elevator went down,
-faster, faster.... He felt the bottom of the elevator drop away from
-under him and he floated in the air, vainly kicking at the walls....
-
-Whiteford opened his eyes slowly. The hammock quivered a little on the
-springs but they were no longer stretched. The chronometer read five
-minutes since take-off.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-He unstrapped and tried to get out of the hammock. An instant later
-he found himself floating at about the same level as the hammock, not
-touching the deck. A fragment of a dream about an elevator touched
-his mind and it suddenly occurred to him that he was falling--falling
-faster than he had fallen before. He closed his eyes, which promptly
-made it worse. He was falling--falling hundreds of miles to earth.
-An image formed in his mind of the ship entering the atmosphere, the
-screaming of the tortured air, the heating of the metallic shell from
-friction until it glowed a cherry red, roasting its occupant to a
-blackened cinder.
-
-He screamed and the sound of his own voice brought him back to sanity.
-The sensation of falling was what he should expect from weightlessness.
-It was like being in the elevator he had imagined that kept going
-faster and faster until it fell away from beneath him. He kept his mind
-on the concept with an effort.
-
-He managed to control his imagination but his nervous system kept
-sending the impulses which screamed that he was falling. He clutched at
-the hammock in a sudden wave of nausea. The feeling didn't leave him
-and he closed his eyes and vomited. It was amazingly easy to do--in
-free flight gravity no longer helped in holding down his meal.
-
-He was in the middle of an agonizing attack of what any sailor would
-recognize as the "dry heaves" before he managed to gain control of his
-knotted stomach muscles.
-
-The hammock served as a point of orientation and he dragged himself on
-to it and buried his face in the canvas. He tried not to feel anything
-or hear anything or think anything. He had lain like that for a long
-time when he felt something brush his face.
-
-He opened his eyes and saw a few little spheroids of matter floating in
-the cabin. He batted idly at one with a free hand and it immediately
-broke up into smaller spheroids which drifted apart from each other.
-
-He groaned. It had been a mistake to vomit. Whether he liked it or not,
-his next duty would have to be to gather up all the spheroids and stuff
-them into the disposal chute. He found a rubberized bag in the medicine
-kit and went after the spheroids much in the same way a little boy
-catches butterflies.
-
-When he had finished the unpleasant task of collecting the spheroids,
-he glanced over at the chronometer. It read some fifty minutes since
-the beginning of the trip. Time to begin his tour of duty. He took
-the log book and made his round of the meters and jotted down their
-readings. Under _Personal Reactions_ he jotted down _sick; steady and
-unremitting feeling of nausea_.
-
-Ten minutes later he had accomplished his duties for the next
-eight-hour period. That left only--well, fourteen days going, same
-time returning. He had left only twenty-seven days and twenty-three
-hours before he'd see earth again.
-
-Twenty-seven days and twenty-three hours of sheer hell.
-
-Things--unpleasant things--seemed to pile up on him. He had suffered
-from migraine headaches before--but nothing like he did now. It
-was easier for his heart to pump blood to his head, and the minute
-enlargement of the blood vessels in his head caused splitting pains
-to shoot through it. He had noticed the headaches shortly after he
-had attempted to look through one of the ports. Not that they weren't
-there before--he had been too busy vomiting to take note of them. The
-ports were a fiasco in themselves. The practically solid beams of
-light coming through had blinded him temporarily, even when he wore
-sun-glasses; enough to show him that sight-seeing and human observation
-were out of the question.
-
-And mixed in with all of these were the difficulties of getting around
-the small compartment. He could kick himself around, inasmuch as he
-was weightless in free flight, but the piping and equipment in the
-compartment turned it into a hazardous obstacle course. He nearly broke
-his arm, once, trying to stop from running into a bulkhead.
-
-And there were other things. Embarrassing things. Or, considering he
-was alone in the compartment, just mildly annoying things.
-
-After trying to look through the ports, he pushed back to the hammock
-and lay down. He could just as easily have rested floating in the air
-but the hammock was a great mental aid. He tried to keep his mind blank
-but snatches of thought kept running through it. Today was Friday on
-earth. About time for the evening meal. Fried perch and scalloped
-potatoes....
-
-He groaned again. Nowhere on the examinations they had made out for the
-applicants was there a question asking if the prospect was susceptible
-to space-sickness.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Whiteford lay on the hammock and thought about what it had been like
-on earth a few hours before. It would be near quitting time and the
-five o'clock rush just beginning. Most people would be going home to
-a hearty dinner--he skipped that--and then a quiet evening with the
-television, or perhaps a ringside table at any of the local night spots
-where he used to entertain clients. There would be the many little
-tables with the clean, white tablecloths and the neat arrangement of
-polished silver, the glasses filled to the brim with sparkling clear
-water....
-
-He rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth. It felt like fur.
-Sparkling clear water might be just what he needed. A few sips of ice
-water and a cold, wet-rag on his face would work wonders. Clear, cool,
-gushing, water....
-
-He had to have water! He rolled out of the hammock and dove for the
-water tap. A split second later he remembered his first accident and
-twisted frantically in the air, trying to slow his momentum. He grabbed
-for some pipes that threaded through the cabin, missed, and hit the
-water tap butt first: the plastic panels at the front splintered and
-broke and the tiny aluminum tubing, scientifically designed to deliver
-water under conditions of free flight bent and crumpled.
-
-Whiteford felt wet. He turned and grimly surveyed the demolished water
-tap. A few drops of water floated lazily, tantalizingly in the air. He
-_had_ to have water! A kit near the food locker yielded some cooking
-utensils and an old-fashioned can-opener, one end of which might serve
-as a crude lever. He had to wedge himself between the tap and the
-bulkhead to get leverage to pry with; otherwise, a hearty twist only
-resulted in his body turning a slow circle in the air.
-
-The tubes didn't straighten very easily. Finally, the can-opener broke;
-a loss that didn't become immediately apparent. He grabbed the pipes
-with his hands and heaved outward. They bent. He heaved again and they
-bent still more. On the third heave he felt a slight pain in his side.
-He was exerting quite a bit of effort--effort which on earth would have
-made him sweat and his heart pump faster. He was sweating now but his
-heart wasn't only pumping faster, it was racing.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-He grasped the pipes harder for a final effort. With a brittle snap,
-one of the connections burst and a few drops of water sprayed out at
-him. He didn't notice. He was holding his sides in pain while his heart
-took off like a race horse. The veins in his wrist swelled to the size
-of lead pencils and he could feel the throbbing pulse of blood. He
-floated stiffly in the air, half paralyzed by sudden fear.
-
-When the pumping had slowed down he turned his attention back to the
-battered pipes. He straightened one of them out--being careful not to
-over-exert himself--and used it to suck the water through. The water
-was clear and cold but tasted a little of metal. It refreshed him and
-he began to think of something to go with it. Whether he felt like
-eating or not, it was obviously going to be necessary.
-
-_It wasn't--too bad--so far. He could take the headaches and the nausea
-if he had to. There were--other things, though. Fear of what might
-happen. Meteorites, for one thing. Chances of his ship colliding with a
-speck of dust were ten million to one against it. But still...._
-
-He went to the food locker and broke out a small electric hot-plate,
-a skillet, and a dozen eggs. The skillet was a little flatter than an
-ordinary one with a hinged cover to keep the contents in.
-
-_It wasn't pleasant to think about.... The ship a drifting derelict,
-riddled and airless, with his body frozen as hard as stone floating
-on the inside. What rubbish! Let's see, a one kilogram meteorite
-with a velocity of ten miles a second hitting the hull ... probably
-fuse a section of it. Ten miles ... sixteen kilometers a second,
-approximately...._
-
-Five minutes later, he was trying to coax an egg, floating sedately in
-mid-air, into it. He'd have the affair around it, hurriedly close the
-lid, and watch the air forced out from between the skillet and the lid
-push the egg away.
-
-_A one kilogram meteorite at that speed could fuse about fifteen
-kilograms of hull ... about thirty-three pounds, enough to...._
-
-The trick was to close the lid slowly. With that accomplished he
-discovered that grease wouldn't stay in the bottom of the skillet.
-Finally he filled the skillet with water and poached the egg.
-
-... _vaporize a section of the hull big enough so he could poke his
-fist through it ... with a velocity of a hundred miles a second there
-probably wouldn't be enough left of the ship to identify...._
-
-He dumped the egg into the disposal chute. He had lost his appetite.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Read the meters, list the readings in the log book. Note any changes
-between consecutive readings. Test the air, note the humidity. Read the
-meters, list the readings in the log book. Note the--oh hell, he knew
-the order by heart as it was. Under _Personal Reaction_ he wrote: _damn
-sick and tired of it. Ten days to go before halfway mark._
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-He flipped the switch that cut the light circuit and floated lazily in
-the dark. It was peaceful and quiet and his eyes closed in sleep.
-
-_Tick ... tick ... tick...._
-
-He jerked awake. What the hell!
-
-_Tick ... tick ... tick ... tick!_
-
-It sounded a little faster now.
-
-_Tick-tick-tick-tick!_
-
-The ticking swelled to a roar and then subsided to a gentle, purring
-_tick ... tick ... tick_!
-
-He crouched there in the dark, straining for the sound, wondering what
-it was. It almost sounded like a slow-motion tabulator....
-
-_The geiger counter!_
-
-His heart skipped and a cold sweat broke out on his skin. There was a
-counter on board to warn against stray radiation. Not that there would
-be any--the Cameron-Smith energy converters were shielded so thoroughly
-that not even a single stray particle could get through.
-
-_They were supposed to be, that is. Was it possible that the engineers
-could have slipped up?_
-
-Pictures of the survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, hideous with
-radiation keloids, flashed into his mind. A news story about radiation
-poisoning gibbered in the back of his imagination.
-
-_Tick-tick-tick-tick!_
-
-Sterility....
-
-He flipped the light switch and floated over to the counter readings
-on the instrument panel. The row of tiny lights flashed rapidly in
-succession and the counter added another digit.
-
-Stray radiation ... stray.... It came to him, then. For a moment he had
-forgotten that the counter was apt to read high, due to the increase
-in cosmic ray radiation once outside the atmosphere of the earth. He
-laughed weakly. What a thing to forget!
-
-Something snickered in the back of his mind. _Yeah, what a thing to
-forget! And how will you tell whether the counter is reading stray
-radiation from the converters or the increase in cosmic rays? The
-engineers never make mistakes, though. Never? Well, hardly ever!_
-
-The question of adequate shielding of the converters haunted him
-continuously.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-By the sixth day out, Whiteford had become accustomed to the life in
-the cabin. He took it easy getting about and kept up with the business
-of the ship. By splitting the "day" into segments, as on earth, he
-managed to keep up a fairly normal routine. Sixteen hours on duty and
-about eight for sleeping, although sleeping wasn't too easy. He was
-rarely physically tired and made the mistake of trying to force himself
-to sleep. By the sixth "evening" he had developed into a first rate
-insomniac.
-
-And by the sixth evening he was aware that the job of pilot was one of
-sheer boredom. It was dull routine with nothing to break the monotony
-but worry. There was no radio, no television, no telephone to shatter
-the silence. The first day or so he had whistled and sung to himself;
-now he hated the sound of his own voice.
-
-He floated disgustedly in the hammock. He had read the meters, he had
-listed the readings in the log book. He had noted the changes between
-consecutive readings. He had tested the air and noted the humidity; he
-had listed his own physiological reactions from acne to watering eyes.
-He had cleaned and loaded the automatic cameras. All of which took
-about one hour out of every twenty-four.
-
-He threaded his way over to the locker containing the books and games
-Burger had mentioned. Odd that he hadn't thought of it before.
-
-This was more like it. Everything was designed to appeal to the
-businessminded type of man, which was all to the good. He picked up the
-thin books, printed on india paper to conserve weight, and frowned.
-One of them was almost a text on finance; ordinarily, if he could have
-curled up in an easy chair with nothing around to bother him, he'd
-be interested. The other book he had read before. That left one--and
-fifteen minutes later he discovered that he couldn't concentrate. His
-eyes bothered him and the type blurred; he was a little too sick to
-drum up interest in a book.
-
-He went back to the cabinet and got out a popular parlor game. It was
-designed so that one person could play at it. The game itself was
-simple; based on a combination of finance and mathematics the object
-was to corner all the real estate on the board and "break the bank."
-It provided an hour of amusement. After that he discovered he always
-won; the board was _too_ simple--he had memorized the exact sequence of
-moves to win the game every time. The remaining game was a complicated
-three-dimensional chess set. This he discarded even sooner. He couldn't
-win at all.
-
-He fell back on a deck of cards and tried to play solitaire but the
-cards were too slick and their weight wouldn't hold them down anymore.
-He would manage to arrange them in neat rows and then accidentally jar
-them and they would go skitting off through the cabin. He finally tore
-the pack in two with disgust and spent the rest of the day picking up
-the pieces from the various corners where he had thrown them.
-
-His nerves were fraying rapidly. He couldn't shave and he couldn't
-shower. The air was dry--a little too dry--and he began to itch, a
-vague, annoying sensation that shifted over his body.
-
-And the cabin smelled. The air purifiers worked to satisfaction as far
-as the meters were concerned but the odor of unwashed humanity still
-clung to the cabin. He had a hunch it would get worse as time went on.
-
-He no longer bothered to prepare full meals for himself. He was too
-tired, he didn't want to go to the effort, he didn't feel hungry
-anyways. He ended up by nibbling on cold meats and bread at idle
-moments. With the change in diet, his face broke out in large, ugly
-splotches that bothered him considerably. Among other things, the diet
-he had been originally supplied with had been designed to avoid just
-that. If he had kept on the original diet ... if he had the energy to
-prepare a full meal ... if he didn't feel so damned sick ... if only
-that had been taken into consideration!
-
-The steady, irritating ticking of the geiger counter worried him
-constantly. He could never be sure that the ticking was entirely
-innocent; he grew to have a superstitious dread of the rear bulkhead
-that stood between the cabin and converters. He unconsciously avoided
-it, keeping to the front of the cabin as much as possible.
-
-Little noises startled him. If an occasional drop of water happened to
-collide with him in the cabin, it sent him into a raving fury--blood
-pressure be damned. He even derived a certain grim amusement from it,
-thinking of the times he had laughed at the typical picture of the
-apoplectic businessman.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-On the eighth day, when making the check of the instrument panel, he
-noticed that the panel on the board reading "Manual Control" was lit;
-the one marked "Automatic" was out. In the middle of the board was the
-face of an oscilloscope with two hair lines intersecting at the middle.
-A small red dot, representing the rocket, should have been set exactly
-at the intersection.
-
-It wasn't. It was at the bottom of the 'scope, almost off the face
-altogether.
-
-_To hell with all engineers_, he snarled to himself.
-
-He would have to jockey the dot back to the center before the automatic
-controls would take over again. If he failed, the rocket would be
-hopelessly off course, a tiny wanderer in space. The auxiliary chemical
-rockets, allowing for two degree corrections in the line of flight,
-would have to be used. They consisted of four sets at right angles to
-each other around the hull. By jockeying between them, he should be
-able to work the ship back.
-
-He pressed the key for firing the portside jets. The next moment he
-felt himself hurled from his position and thrown against the left-hand
-bulkhead. The cabin exploded into a pinwheel of stars that quickly
-faded into blackness.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-His head hurt and something that felt very much like oozing blood
-was sticking his eyelids together. He wrenched them open and rubbed
-his head with his hands, then wiped the stickiness off on the pilot
-suit. It _was_ blood, flowing from a cut in his scalp. Judging from
-the cabin, he had lost quite a bit. But the cut was of secondary
-importance.
-
-He clawed his way back to the oscilloscope. The spot on the face had
-moved way over to the other side of the scope. He braced himself into
-position so that the sudden acceleration wouldn't affect him again. He
-pressed the key very lightly again and waited for the dot to shift.
-Sweat collected on his nose and stayed there. He shook his head and a
-spatter of drops flew off.
-
-The dot on the scope shifted--too much. He felt weak. This was going
-to be a precision job; the slightest pressure on the firing stud might
-prove to be too much again. He'd have to jockey it back and forth
-until, by sheer luck, he hit the center of the scope. He could do
-it--but it would take time.
-
-Five hours later a worn out, nervous Whiteford left the control panel
-and drifted wearily over to the hammock. He was dead tired--so tired he
-couldn't sleep.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-It was the thirteenth day out.
-
-A floating drop of water brushed lightly past Whiteford. He batted at
-it, swore, and began to cry; a peculiar sobbing that shook his whole
-body. He blubbered for ten minutes.
-
-He was sick and hungry. The cut on his head begun to fester and his
-whole head throbbed with pain. There was a first-aid kit in the cabin
-but he felt too weak to get it. His beard itched and his body felt
-slimy; sweat didn't drop off but stuck and spread over his skin until
-it formed a thin coating.
-
-_Just a poor little lamb who is lost in space, ha--ha--ha!_
-
-The tune slipped into his mind and at the end he laughed with the
-chorus. He couldn't stop laughing. It built up to a hysterical roar
-that left him shaking silently in the hammock.
-
-_Oh, Whiteford had a spaceship, its hull as white as snow; but every
-time he pressed the stud, the ship refused to go!_
-
-That was hilariously funny, too.
-
-He was sick, he was tired, he was dirty. He hadn't had enough energy or
-ambition to fill in the log books for the last two days.
-
-Besides, who gave a damn?
-
-He was just the stupid jerk who piloted the thing. What did it matter
-if he got killed in the attempt.
-
-_My rocket started out for the star-speckled void, my rocket started
-out in great haste; but the g's were far too many for me, and I stuck
-to the bulkhead like paste!_
-
-Burger and Maxwell had sent a rocket as far as the moon, hadn't they?
-
-_He was sick--he didn't care whether he lived or died._
-
-He was a sucker. A dope. A sick dope who wished to hell it was all
-over.
-
-The moon was close now. If he waited until he got just a little closer
-and then pressed the portside firing stud, he could wreck their blessed
-rocket. Serve Burger and Maxwell right. As for himself, he was so sick
-of the whole thing that death would come as a relief.
-
-That's what he'd do....
-
-_My bonny, my bonny, my bonny so true, do you think you will miss me if
-I die in the blue?_
-
-C day for Crack-up day! He put his thumb on the key and allowed himself
-five extra seconds of gloating. The company would have a tough time
-sending a wreath to his funeral. The company....
-
-_Who in hell would run Personnel Incorporated if he failed to return?_
-He nodded his head thoughtfully, faintly surprised that he hadn't
-thought of it before.
-
-Who _would_ run the company? He was the only one who knew how. He _was_
-the company. He had practically raised it all by himself to where it
-was now.
-
-He took his thumb off the key.
-
-And what would happen to the company's reputation if he failed to come
-back? That meant that their slogan no longer held--that they hadn't
-found the man for the job. And he hadn't kidded about the mottos. They
-had been capable of finding a man to do any job--even this one. Not
-just to go out on a job. To _do_ a job.
-
-He had a sudden vision of Maxwell shouting gleefully: "I told you so!
-Personnel can't supply the man!"
-
-Five minutes later he hardly remembered his desire to crash the ship.
-He thought fleetingly of the movies showing the crack-up of the first
-ship. Something pretty much the same as had happened to him must have
-happened to the pilot on the first flight.
-
-He shuddered and kicked his way over to the first-aid kit.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-The next day the ship began the long smooth curve that would carry it
-around the moon and on the last leg of the journey. Whiteford went to
-the panel board and pressed the key releasing the steel porthole caps.
-He pressed the key again and when they still didn't move realized they
-were stuck. It wouldn't be hard to find the trouble but....
-
-It wasn't worth the effort. He didn't give a damn whether he saw the
-moon or not.
-
-He drifted back to the hammock and went into an almost coma state
-staring dully at the overhead. He lay that way until time came for his
-next round of readings.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Two thousand miles out from earth the ship started the first of a
-dozen trips around the earth that would slow it down for a landing.
-Five hundred miles up the ship entered the first tenuous wisps of
-atmosphere. A hundred miles up, the air was screaming past the ship
-and the hull begun to get warm. Ten miles up Whiteford jettisoned the
-rocket tubes and engine over the Atlantic ocean. At the same time he
-released the double duty nylon parachute attached to the cabin.
-
-Inside, Whiteford had begun to experience discomfort as his weight
-returned. It was an effort to move around and his heart beat seemed
-sluggish. His stomach sagged heavily and he thought wistfully of a
-gentleman's girdle. Water bubbled merrily from the broken water pipes
-and splashed unheeded on the deck.
-
-The cabin thudded on something soft and Whiteford crawled to the hatch
-and opened it. The ship was floating on a large body of water. Waves
-slapped cheerfully against the hull and overhead a few startled gulls
-cawed angrily. A cool gust of fresh air blew in. Whiteford hauled
-himself erect and stripped off the pilot suit. He stood nude in the
-opening, inhaling the air in greedy gulps. It smelled as clean and cool
-as the conditioned air in his office at Personnel Incorporated.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-"Ahoy, there!"
-
-There was a boat a few feet from the hatch.
-
-"Coming aboard!" They drifted closer and one of the men in the boat
-grabbed the ladder by the hatchway. Five men and a woman tumbled aboard.
-
-"The Coast Guard at your...."
-
-"I'm from the Daily Newsworld, Mr. Whiteford. I wonder...."
-
-"What was it like in space...."
-
-"You must have been simply _thrillllled_...."
-
-Burger's bald head pushed itself forward. "How did the moon look to
-you, Mr. Whiteford?"
-
-Whiteford had to think a little. "Come to think of it, I never saw it."
-
-There was a dead silence.
-
-"Oh, it's all on the films the automatic cameras shot. I wasn't too
-much interested myself."
-
-The reporters frowned in disappointment but tried again.
-
-"What do you intend to do now that you're back? Do the town, go on a
-fishing trip...."
-
-Whiteford looked at them as if they had crawled out from under a rock.
-"Nonsense!" he snarled. "I'll get back to my office, of course!"
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Maxwell looked at the president of Personnel approvingly. "I honestly
-didn't think you could do it, once I heard that you had gone." He
-paused and fumbled with his pipe. "Pretty tough, wasn't it?"
-
-Whiteford knocked the ash off his cigarette and reached for the bottle
-of pills on his desk. "I wouldn't say so," he said expansively. "Just a
-matter of being fitted for the job."
-
-Maxwell inspected his fingernails. "You didn't take the examinations
-your own outfit rigged up. Any particular reason?"
-
-Whiteford looked annoyed. "I was technically qualified--engineering
-course in college. As for the rest, I successfully piloted the ship
-which should establish something on that score."
-
-Maxwell twirled his hat self-consciously. A half smile played on his
-lips. "Oh, sure. Absolutely." He tamped his pipe. "You know, it's hard
-to visualize anybody wanting to go to the moon. It must be--well, some
-terrific drive that makes them do it."
-
-Whiteford stared at him suspiciously. "What are you getting at?"
-
-Maxwell looked innocent and gave an exaggerated shrug. "Why, nothing!
-Nothing at all. It's just that it seems ... seems so unusual that you
-couldn't find a qualified man, a completely _normal_ man who wanted to
-go!"
-
-The temperature in the room dropped thirty degrees. "Implying,"
-Whiteford said icily, "that I'm not quite sane?"
-
-Maxwell stood up and chuckled. "Exactly. Hasn't it occurred to you that
-the qualifications you set up for a pilot were all wrong? When has a
-_completely_ normal man ever succeeded at _anything_ that was a little
-difficult? Why did you succeed? Because you're just a shade neurotic,
-because you've got a streak of monomania in you. It's what built
-up Personnel Incorporated. It's what got you to the moon and back.
-Hell, Whiteford, after this when we want pilots we'll just run your
-characteristics on the sorter and pick them out that way!"
-
-Whiteford glared at him and for a moment Maxwell felt sorry. He had
-pushed a big man off a pedestal; he had punctured an ego.
-
-Suddenly Whiteford grinned self-consciously. "Maybe you've got a point
-there. I never thought of it that way."
-
-Maxwell started for the door and paused, his hand on the knob. The look
-he gave Whiteford was one of sudden admiration.
-
-"There's something else, too. Something that it takes to send a man to
-the moon and back and something you can't measure on an IBM machine."
-He paused. "It takes courage. A hell of a lot of it."
-
-*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WANTED: ONE SANE MAN ***
-
-Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will
-be renamed.
-
-Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
-law 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 an eBook, except by following
-the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
-of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
-copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
-easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
-of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
-Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may
-do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
-by U.S. copyright law. 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
-www.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 unprotected by copyright law 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 other than 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 in the United States and
-  most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the
-  United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
-  you are located before using this eBook.
-
-1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is
-derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (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 website
-(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 the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager 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
-works not protected by U.S. copyright law 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 1.F.3. 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 MERCHANTABILITY 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 information page at
-www.gutenberg.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. 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 business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
-Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
-to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website
-and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
-
-Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
-Literary Archive Foundation
-
-Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without
-widespread 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 www.gutenberg.org/donate
-
-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: www.gutenberg.org/donate
-
-Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
-
-Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
-Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be
-freely shared with anyone. For forty 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 not protected by copyright 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 website which has the main PG search
-facility: www.gutenberg.org
-
-This website 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/old/66612-0.zip b/old/66612-0.zip
deleted file mode 100644
index 075c572..0000000
--- a/old/66612-0.zip
+++ /dev/null
diff --git a/old/66612-h.zip b/old/66612-h.zip
deleted file mode 100644
index f5f4db5..0000000
--- a/old/66612-h.zip
+++ /dev/null
diff --git a/old/66612-h/66612-h.htm b/old/66612-h/66612-h.htm
deleted file mode 100644
index 2ddd9dd..0000000
--- a/old/66612-h/66612-h.htm
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1,1647 +0,0 @@
-<!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=us-ascii" />
-    <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
-    <title>
-      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Wanted: One Sane Man, by Frank M. Robinson.
-    </title>
-    <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" />
-
-    <style type="text/css">
-
-body {
-    margin-left: 10%;
-    margin-right: 10%;
-}
-
-    h1,h2 {
-    text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
-    clear: both;
-}
-
-p {
-    margin-top: .51em;
-    text-align: justify;
-    margin-bottom: .49em;
-}
-
-hr {
-    width: 33%;
-    margin-top: 2em;
-    margin-bottom: 2em;
-    margin-left: 33.5%;
-    margin-right: 33.5%;
-    clear: both;
-}
-
-hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;}
-hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;}
-
-.center   {text-align: center;}
-
-.right   {text-align: right;}
-
-/* Images */
-.figcenter   {
-    margin: auto;
-    text-align: center;
-}
-
-x-ebookmaker-drop {display: none;}
-
-div.titlepage {
-  text-align: center;
-  page-break-before: always;
-  page-break-after: always;
-}
-
-div.titlepage p {
-  text-align: center;
-  text-indent: 0em;
-  font-weight: bold;
-  line-height: 1.5;
-  margin-top: 3em;
-}
-
-
-    </style>
-  </head>
-<body>
-
-<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Wanted: One Sane Man, by Frank M. Robinson</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
-are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
-country where you are located before using this eBook.
-</div>
-
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Wanted: One Sane Man</p>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Frank M. Robinson</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 26, 2021 [eBook #66612]</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</div>
-
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WANTED: ONE SANE MAN ***</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter x-ebookmaker-drop">
-  <img src="images/illusc.jpg" alt=""/>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<div class="titlepage">
-
-<h1>WANTED: One Sane Man</h1>
-
-<h2>By Frank M. Robinson</h2>
-
-<p>Personnel Incorporated bragged that they<br />
-could supply a man for any job. Maxwell doubted<br />
-this, needing a space pilot for the first Lunar<br />
-trip. Now, if he had just asked for a lunatic....</p>
-
-<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br />
-Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy<br />
-June 1955<br />
-Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br />
-the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p>The small man adjusted his bi-focals and stared critically at the
-huge brass nameplate over the glass entrance doors. The plate read
-"Personnel Incorporated" in neat, modest lettering. Directly above the
-plate was a traveling neon sign which informed the public in letters
-six feet tall that:</p>
-
-<p>PERSONNEL CAN SUPPLY THE MAN FOR ANY JOB!&mdash;SEVENTY-FIVE PER CENT
-OF THE PERSONNEL PROBLEMS ON THE AMERICAN CONTINENT ARE HANDLED BY
-PERSONNEL&mdash;DOES YOUR JOB SEEM BORING LATELY? SEE PERSONNEL AND BE
-PSYCHOLOGICALLY FITTED FOR YOUR WORK!&mdash;PERSONNEL CAN SUPPLY THE MAN FOR
-ANY JOB!&mdash;SEVENTY-FIVE PER CENT OF THE....</p>
-
-<p>The small man looked at it for a minute and turned to his tall
-companion.</p>
-
-<p>"Tell me, Maxwell, why the seventy-five? Why not eighty or
-eighty-three?"</p>
-
-<p>Maxwell glanced up at the sign. "If they do seventy-six per cent or
-more of the business, they're a monopoly. It must pain Whiteford to
-have to hold himself down to only seventy-five."</p>
-
-<p>"Whiteford?"</p>
-
-<p>Maxwell looked surprised. "You haven't heard of him? The newest boy
-wonder in the business world? He's the genius who runs this modern
-slave market." He looked at his watch. "And, incidentally, he's also
-the guy we've got an appointment with in five minutes."</p>
-
-<p>They joined the crowds streaming up the wide, granite steps and found
-themselves in the large entrance lobby, directly opposite the battery
-of ascending elevators.</p>
-
-<p>The small man approached the starter. "&mdash;ah&mdash;pardon me, but would you
-tell us what floor Personnel Incorporated is on?"</p>
-
-<p>The starter looked shocked. "Poisonnel ain't just on one floor, Mister,
-it's the whole building. Who'dja wanna see?"</p>
-
-<p>"We wanted to&mdash;well, that is&mdash;whoever's in...."</p>
-
-<p>The starter brushed him aside. "Step outta the way of the passengers,
-Mister. Be with ya in a second.... Okay, lady, maid soivice and
-domestics is on the thoity-foist floor. Don't shove in the elevator,
-please! Next elevator, <i>please!</i>"</p>
-
-<p>He turned back to the small man.</p>
-
-<p>"We got administration on the foist floor. Second floor, automotive and
-transportation. Assemblers, welders, painters, cushion upholsterers,
-sprayers, mock-up men, testers and greasers. Thoid floor, electrical.
-Solderers, cabinet workers, wirers, draftsmen, coil-winders, and design
-expoits. Next floor, entertainers. Everything from acrobats to zither
-players and concert ottists. Fifth...."</p>
-
-<p>"We want to see Whiteford," Maxwell cut in impatiently.</p>
-
-<p>The starter looked impressed. "The Chief, eh? Administration's on
-the foist floor, like I told ya, Mister. Straight down to the end of
-the curridor and to your left. Ya can't miss it." He had a second
-thought and turned and shouted after them. "If ya want a job, General
-Employment's on the second curridor to your right!"</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>"Think this will do any good?" the small man asked, mopping the sweat
-off his bald head.</p>
-
-<p>"We don't have any choice. We've got to try it." Maxwell pushed open
-one of the double swinging doors marked "Office of the President."</p>
-
-<p>They walked into the outer fringes of a whirlpool of noise and bedlam,
-rivaling that of a stock exchange or a grain pit in the middle of the
-harvesting season. The room covered more than an acre, with ninety
-per cent of the floor space devoted to adding machines, typewriters,
-tabulators, collators, sorters, key punches, automatic alphabetizers
-and the other ten per cent to their operators. A battery of sorters on
-their left digested stacks of small, white cards and spewed forth more
-stacks of them into waiting hoppers. On their right, the nearest of
-three switchboard operators smiled a weak greeting and turned back to
-her board.</p>
-
-<p>"Personnel Incorporated. National Carbide and Carbon? Just a moment,
-please. I'll connect you with the president's office.... Personnel
-Incorporated. Chrysler Corporation? That's the automotive division,
-extension 2214.... Personnel Incorporated. Shanghai Importing Company?
-I believe our sales division can furnish you with the men, extension
-230."</p>
-
-<p>She turned to the small man. "The monster's office is that glass
-enclosure down there"&mdash;she pointed to a glassed-in office at the
-end of the room&mdash;"and while there, tell him he'll have to get some
-more help for the switchboard." She mopped her forehead with a soggy
-handkerchief. "It's more than we can handle."</p>
-
-<p>The center of the whirlpool was the glassed-in office, with the name
-WHITEFORD on the door&mdash;nothing else. Whiteford himself, neatly dressed
-in a business suit with creases sharp enough to shave with, was sitting
-behind half an acre of mahogany desk. He was young, about 30, with the
-healthy and slightly overfed look of a graduated college halfback.
-Maxwell decided he didn't like him. He looked like a character who
-exuded confidence like perspiration.</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford didn't bother looking up but continued barking into the
-intercom.</p>
-
-<p>"Lyons? About the Amazon Valley deal. Fly in three thousand
-semi-skilled next week. Get 'em housed in quonset huts and make
-arrangements with a coast concern for shipments of fresh fruits and
-vegetables for the central kitchen." He paused. "Better call in the bug
-experts to liquidate the mosquitoes instead of spending the money for
-netting and anti-malaria. Cheaper in the long run."</p>
-
-<p>He took time out to gulp some pills from a bottle and wash them down
-with water from a desk side tap. "Just a quick lunch," he apologized.
-His voice was brisk. "What can I do for you?"</p>
-
-<p>The small man gestured to himself and his companion. "I'm George
-Burger, director of the experimental division at Atlantic Motors. And
-this is Frank Maxwell; he's with the government. We have something
-important we'd like to discuss...."</p>
-
-<p>"Be glad to,"&mdash;Whiteford looked at his watch&mdash;"for about four minutes.
-I have an engagement at eleven. As you were saying, Mister Bircher?"</p>
-
-<p>The small man winced. "Burger. We need...."</p>
-
-<p>A secretary came in on the run.</p>
-
-<p>"Call for you from London, Mr. Whiteford! About dredging the Thames...."</p>
-
-<p>"... a man...."</p>
-
-<p>"I'll take it out there in a moment. Miss Hancock."</p>
-
-<p>"... to pilot...."</p>
-
-<p>The phone rang.</p>
-
-<p>"... a rocket...."</p>
-
-<p>"IBM? Call me back in half an hour."</p>
-
-<p>"... to the...."</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford flipped the intercom switch.</p>
-
-<p>"Tell the man from General Motors we'll be able to supply the gear
-specialists, Miss Hancock."</p>
-
-<p>"... moon."</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford glanced at his watch again and frowned.</p>
-
-<p>"Really, Burger, I'm a very busy man. You'll have to cut it short."</p>
-
-<p>Maxwell shouldered past Burger and leaned possessively on Whiteford's
-desk, his jaw an inch from Whiteford's own.</p>
-
-<p>"It so happens that what concerns Atlantic Motors vitally concerns
-the government, Whiteford! We'd appreciate it if you could stretch
-that generosity of yours and give us five minutes of your undivided
-attention. After all, we <i>did</i> have an appointment!"</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Whiteford turned off the intercom and leaned back in his swivel chair,
-his fingers tapping nervously on the chair arm.</p>
-
-<p>"Sorry Maxwell, but keeping the organization running keeps me on the
-hump."</p>
-
-<p>"Like it kept the slavers of the eighteenth century on the hump,"
-Maxwell growled.</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford's eyebrows shot up.</p>
-
-<p>"Personnel Incorporated was founded on one of the most obvious needs
-of our civilization, Maxwell! With the expansion of production
-after the first atomic war, the demand for personnel, and increasing
-labor-management difficulties, it was obvious that dozens of little
-employment agencies and company employment divisions were only
-hampering manufacturing facilities. A single, centralized bureau was
-needed. Personnel Incorporated filled that need. From myself on down,
-everybody who's been handled by Personnel has been psychologically
-tested for their job&mdash;which means strikes and walkouts have been cut to
-a minimum.</p>
-
-<p>"Modern civilization would be impossible without Personnel, Maxwell!
-But that's water over the dam." He nodded to Burger. "You have a
-personnel problem?"</p>
-
-<p>"That's why I came here," Burger said testily. "As you may know, Mr.
-Whiteford, Atlantic Motors has constructed a rocket to make the first
-flight to the moon. We need a pilot for that rocket."</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford looked bored. "All the Sunday supplements have carried
-articles about the A-M rocket. As for the pilot, there are thousands of
-men in this country alone who are probably qualified for the job. To
-find one would be routine, I should think."</p>
-
-<p>"It's somewhat more complicated than picking a pilot out of a hat, Mr.
-Whiteford. Not just any pilot will do. There are, of course, certain
-technical qualifications but there are more important ones than that.
-Our man would have to be perfect mentally&mdash;no nervousness, neurosis,
-streaks of instability or anything of the sort. We could hardly trust
-75,000,000 dollars worth of rocket to a man who wasn't sound physically
-and mentally."</p>
-
-<p>"I take it you couldn't find any?"</p>
-
-<p>Burger shook his head.</p>
-
-<p>"Where does the government come in?"</p>
-
-<p>"The government is naturally interested in rockets," Maxwell said.
-"It's rumored the Russians aren't far behind us. At any rate, without a
-pilot, the rocket is useless."</p>
-
-<p>"And the government has been unsuccessful, too?"</p>
-
-<p>Maxwell hesitated. "As a matter of fact we found a pilot&mdash;at least we
-thought we had. He piloted the first rocket that was sent&mdash;one flight
-has been attempted before. From what little evidence we can gather, it
-appears he deliberately crashed the rocket on the moon."</p>
-
-<p>"Why?"</p>
-
-<p>Maxwell shrugged. "Off his trolley, I suppose. That's reason number one
-for our qualifications being so high."</p>
-
-<p>"I frankly don't think you can find one," Burger added nastily.
-"Atlantic Motors has tried for months with no success."</p>
-
-<p>"Personnel Incorporated is not Atlantic Motors, Burger," Whiteford
-said sarcastically. "We've never failed! <i>Never</i> failed!" He repeated
-it like a liturgy. "We don't intend to fail now. Come back in a week
-and we'll have your man."</p>
-
-<p>"Just like the Royal Canadian Mounted," Maxwell muttered.</p>
-
-<p>When they had gone, Whiteford flipped the switch of the intercom.</p>
-
-<p>"Miss Hancock? Cancel my appointment with the directors of AT&amp;T. Call
-in the company psychologists to prepare a personnel test. Contact
-Haskins at our London office and Schubert in Paris and tell them we
-intend to launch a campaign for rocket pilots immediately. Examination
-papers for applicants will be forwarded at once. Notify our other
-branch offices to the same effect. All on the QT, you understand.
-And Miss Hancock&mdash;have the psychologists test our advertising for
-confidence appeal. A representative of Atlantic Motors just implied we
-couldn't supply them with help!"</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>"Those cards represent exactly 250,342 applicants," Whiteford said
-proudly, gesturing to stacks of tabulating cards by the sorting
-machine. Burger looked mildly surprised. "All of them qualified to be
-the pilot?"</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford smiled indulgently. "Probably only a small
-proportion&mdash;several thousand or so. Each hole punched in the card
-represents either the applicant's physical condition, his technical
-knowledge, or answers to carefully phrased questions which will reveal
-his mental state. The sorting machine here,"&mdash;he patted the mechanical
-monster at his side&mdash;"has been set to sort out only those cards that
-meet with the qualifications the company psychologists have set up.</p>
-
-<p>"I've arranged this demonstration to show the efficiency of the
-corporation; we have quite a reputation for fulfilling contracts."
-He shot a glance at Burger. "We'll run through this large stack
-here&mdash;applicants from England&mdash;first."</p>
-
-<p>Maxwell pointed curiously to a small pile. "Where's that stack from?"</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford glanced at it casually. "That stack was forwarded from our
-branch office in Hindustan. Some Indians make darn good pilot material."</p>
-
-<p>He inserted part of the stack of cards from England into the chute of
-the machine and started it up. There was a slow snick-snick-snick as
-the cards passed through the intricate system of metal "fingers" that
-would separate the sheep from the goats&mdash;or, in this case, the pilots
-from the remainder of the applicants.</p>
-
-<p>The chute emptied and no cards had been tossed out into the acceptance
-hopper.</p>
-
-<p>"No luck, eh?" Maxwell couldn't help grinning.</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford frowned. "We've just started."</p>
-
-<p>Two hours later the entire stack of cards&mdash;including the stack from
-Hindustan&mdash;had been run through.</p>
-
-<p>The acceptance hopper was still empty.</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford was in his shirt sleeves, beads of sweat dripping unnoticed
-off the tip of his nose.</p>
-
-<p>"I can't understand," he muttered. "I can't believe.... Miss Hancock!
-Call in Dr. Burroughs!"</p>
-
-<p>When the doctor had showed up, Whiteford pointed to the cards lying in
-heaps on the floor.</p>
-
-<p>"Not a one qualified&mdash;not a single one! Why, Burroughs?"</p>
-
-<p>Burroughs hemmed and hawed and finally decided to risk it. "Well,
-that's ah&mdash;not too hard to understand. Unfortunately the majority of
-applicants were nothing more than&mdash;if you'll pardon me&mdash;crackpots. The
-kind who will volunteer for anything. Most of them lacked the technical
-knowledge. Those who had it either failed the physical or were again,
-mentally unstable. Only slightly, in most cases, but enough so there
-was a danger of it becoming pronounced while in the rocket. Those who
-might've qualified weren't interested."</p>
-
-<p>"Why not? The pay was good."</p>
-
-<p>"Let me pose a question. What <i>entirely</i> sane man would volunteer, for
-any amount of money, to pilot a plutonium engine rocket around the moon
-and back?"</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford looked blank.</p>
-
-<p>"In other words&mdash;personnel can't supply the man. Is that it?" Maxwell
-interrupted.</p>
-
-<p>Burroughs spread his hands in an expansive gesture. "Well, now, I
-wouldn't say that. Someplace there must be a man...."</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford turned and went into his office, slamming the door behind
-him. They could see him collapse into his swivel chair.</p>
-
-<p>"Well, what do you suppose came over him?" Burger gasped.</p>
-
-<p>"I suspect that God has finally found a stone he couldn't lift,"
-Maxwell murmured.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Whiteford kneaded his knuckles and stared morosely out the window. From
-time to time his hand strayed to the intercom and then he'd snap it
-back.</p>
-
-<p>He'd been sitting that way for two hours. For two hours the gigantic
-cogs of Personnel Incorporated had been stopped by a grain of sand. Or
-at least, so it seemed.</p>
-
-<p>Suddenly his hand lashed out and he flipped the intercom switch.</p>
-
-<p>"Would you please come here a minute, Miss Hancock?"</p>
-
-<p>"Y-yes, Mr. Whiteford?"</p>
-
-<p>"Do you think you could run Personnel Incorporated while I'm away?"</p>
-
-<p>"Well&mdash;I don't&mdash;I hardly think I'm capable...."</p>
-
-<p>"You're not," Whiteford said drily. "But you're more capable than
-anyone else that's here. You'll assume my duties until I return."</p>
-
-<p>He paused at the door.</p>
-
-<p>"In case anyone asks, I'll be gone for a month."</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Burger wrung his hands nervously. "Only a half hour until take-off
-time, Mr. Whiteford. I think we've thought of everything. You realize
-that your position on the rocket, actually, is only the safety factor
-of the rocket itself. And, of course, an observer is preferable.
-First hand accounts of human reactions on board the rocket will be
-invaluable. You've been drilled for two weeks in your duties on board,
-the listing of meter readings in the log book, a careful diary of your
-own physiological reactions, etc. And naturally, what to do in case
-of an emergency. Of course, the chances are several million to one of
-anything actually going wrong with the rocket.</p>
-
-<p>"Oh yes, the pictures of the first rocket flight. The film actually
-doesn't show much but it might be of interest."</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford followed him to the small projection room.</p>
-
-<p>"The camera was tracked by radar," Burger exclaimed. "We can follow
-the rocket all the way. I'll speed up the action a little." The
-pin-point of light on the screen leaped ahead and in a few moments the
-pock-marked face of the moon came into view. Burger slowed the action
-down to normal. The tiny tad-pole of light swam closer to the moon.
-Suddenly it swerved and in a moment there was a tiny burst of light on
-one of the craters and the screen went blank.</p>
-
-<p>"The crash, eh?"</p>
-
-<p>Burger nodded. "You can still back out, you know. You can up until the
-moment you step inside the rocket."</p>
-
-<p>"Don't be silly!" Whiteford snorted.</p>
-
-<p>They went out to the landing field.</p>
-
-<p>"Incidentally, Mr. Whiteford, you'll find a small cabinet on board
-with various books, puzzles, and what-not for your leisure hours.
-They've been scientifically selected for your type of personality."
-Burger smiled faintly. "In fact, you'll discover that the pilot has
-been provided for very well, considering weight limitations and all.
-Practically every possible occurrence has been provided for. I'm sure
-you'll experience no difficulty on the flight."</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford nodded absently. "Just be sure and tell Maxwell that
-Personnel Incorporated can always supply the man! Always!"</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Inside the cabin, Whiteford methodically went through the take-off
-preparations he had practiced during the previous two weeks. He gave
-the chronometer, synchronized to start with the take-off, a quick
-inspection and turned to the meters on the instrument panel. He
-quickly went over the small control board that would permit him to
-make deviations and corrections in the ship's course of as much as
-five degrees and checked the geiger counter apparatus which emitted a
-faint burp as a stray cosmic ray hit it. The Counter was designed to
-warn against stray radiation from the engines (but the chances were ten
-million to one that there would be any, Burger had said). He flicked
-through the pages of the ship's log and idly noted the entry pages for
-meter readings and observations.</p>
-
-<p>Against the rear bulkhead of the small cabin was a hammock-like affair,
-suspended by coil springs. He punched the hammock casually. It would
-serve to cushion the effects of acceleration at the take-off and as a
-bunk for the pilot the rest of the trip. Near it and almost a part of
-the deck was a food locker. There was a small spigot at the top that
-served as a water tap for the tank below.</p>
-
-<p>Around the top of the cabin there was a series of small ports of
-steel-strong plastic, permitting an outside view. The ports were
-currently closed with steel over-lap caps.</p>
-
-<p>He looked down at his watch. Two minutes until take-off. He strapped
-himself in the hammock and bounced once or twice to test the springs.
-They hardly gave at all under his efforts; they were designed to give
-way under the acceleration of 8 or 9 g's. The hammock and the skin
-tight pilot suit were supposed to keep him together under the crushing
-weight of acceleration, at which time he'd be like jelly in a mould.</p>
-
-<p>A light sweat sprung out on his forehead. If something went wrong with
-the apparatus, they could scrape him off the rear bulkhead like a
-pancake off a hot griddle. He hadn't thought of that before. Not only
-that but how about radiation from the engines? Shielded, of course, but
-even the best engineers could sometimes.... Good God, how did he ever
-get....</p>
-
-<p>There was a sudden surge of the ship and the springs holding the
-hammock stretched as easy as a dime store rubber-band. He felt his
-weight double and treble. His breath came in tight little gasps as
-if a sorting machine had been dumped on his chest. The weight kept
-increasing and the cabin started to spin. Little black dots danced
-around the edges of his area of vision and gradually covered it. He
-felt he was smothering in a dark, black pit....</p>
-
-<p>Maxwell's face flashed at him out of the darkness. "Always supply
-the man, eh?" it sneered. Hands appeared before the face and dropped
-application cards until they fluttered in front of it like snow. The
-snow cleared and he could see prim Miss Hancock coming toward him, a
-suddenly alluring Miss Hancock sans glasses and most everything else.
-He had a faint impression of being shocked. The image faded and he
-saw himself being chased down the boulevard by a group of animated
-tabulating machines. He made it to the Personnel building and made a
-dash for the elevator. Instead of going up, the elevator went down,
-faster, faster.... He felt the bottom of the elevator drop away from
-under him and he floated in the air, vainly kicking at the walls....</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford opened his eyes slowly. The hammock quivered a little on the
-springs but they were no longer stretched. The chronometer read five
-minutes since take-off.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>He unstrapped and tried to get out of the hammock. An instant later
-he found himself floating at about the same level as the hammock, not
-touching the deck. A fragment of a dream about an elevator touched
-his mind and it suddenly occurred to him that he was falling&mdash;falling
-faster than he had fallen before. He closed his eyes, which promptly
-made it worse. He was falling&mdash;falling hundreds of miles to earth.
-An image formed in his mind of the ship entering the atmosphere, the
-screaming of the tortured air, the heating of the metallic shell from
-friction until it glowed a cherry red, roasting its occupant to a
-blackened cinder.</p>
-
-<p>He screamed and the sound of his own voice brought him back to sanity.
-The sensation of falling was what he should expect from weightlessness.
-It was like being in the elevator he had imagined that kept going
-faster and faster until it fell away from beneath him. He kept his mind
-on the concept with an effort.</p>
-
-<p>He managed to control his imagination but his nervous system kept
-sending the impulses which screamed that he was falling. He clutched at
-the hammock in a sudden wave of nausea. The feeling didn't leave him
-and he closed his eyes and vomited. It was amazingly easy to do&mdash;in
-free flight gravity no longer helped in holding down his meal.</p>
-
-<p>He was in the middle of an agonizing attack of what any sailor would
-recognize as the "dry heaves" before he managed to gain control of his
-knotted stomach muscles.</p>
-
-<p>The hammock served as a point of orientation and he dragged himself on
-to it and buried his face in the canvas. He tried not to feel anything
-or hear anything or think anything. He had lain like that for a long
-time when he felt something brush his face.</p>
-
-<p>He opened his eyes and saw a few little spheroids of matter floating in
-the cabin. He batted idly at one with a free hand and it immediately
-broke up into smaller spheroids which drifted apart from each other.</p>
-
-<p>He groaned. It had been a mistake to vomit. Whether he liked it or not,
-his next duty would have to be to gather up all the spheroids and stuff
-them into the disposal chute. He found a rubberized bag in the medicine
-kit and went after the spheroids much in the same way a little boy
-catches butterflies.</p>
-
-<p>When he had finished the unpleasant task of collecting the spheroids,
-he glanced over at the chronometer. It read some fifty minutes since
-the beginning of the trip. Time to begin his tour of duty. He took
-the log book and made his round of the meters and jotted down their
-readings. Under <i>Personal Reactions</i> he jotted down <i>sick; steady and
-unremitting feeling of nausea</i>.</p>
-
-<p>Ten minutes later he had accomplished his duties for the next
-eight-hour period. That left only&mdash;well, fourteen days going, same
-time returning. He had left only twenty-seven days and twenty-three
-hours before he'd see earth again.</p>
-
-<p>Twenty-seven days and twenty-three hours of sheer hell.</p>
-
-<p>Things&mdash;unpleasant things&mdash;seemed to pile up on him. He had suffered
-from migraine headaches before&mdash;but nothing like he did now. It
-was easier for his heart to pump blood to his head, and the minute
-enlargement of the blood vessels in his head caused splitting pains
-to shoot through it. He had noticed the headaches shortly after he
-had attempted to look through one of the ports. Not that they weren't
-there before&mdash;he had been too busy vomiting to take note of them. The
-ports were a fiasco in themselves. The practically solid beams of
-light coming through had blinded him temporarily, even when he wore
-sun-glasses; enough to show him that sight-seeing and human observation
-were out of the question.</p>
-
-<p>And mixed in with all of these were the difficulties of getting around
-the small compartment. He could kick himself around, inasmuch as he
-was weightless in free flight, but the piping and equipment in the
-compartment turned it into a hazardous obstacle course. He nearly broke
-his arm, once, trying to stop from running into a bulkhead.</p>
-
-<p>And there were other things. Embarrassing things. Or, considering he
-was alone in the compartment, just mildly annoying things.</p>
-
-<p>After trying to look through the ports, he pushed back to the hammock
-and lay down. He could just as easily have rested floating in the air
-but the hammock was a great mental aid. He tried to keep his mind blank
-but snatches of thought kept running through it. Today was Friday on
-earth. About time for the evening meal. Fried perch and scalloped
-potatoes....</p>
-
-<p>He groaned again. Nowhere on the examinations they had made out for the
-applicants was there a question asking if the prospect was susceptible
-to space-sickness.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Whiteford lay on the hammock and thought about what it had been like
-on earth a few hours before. It would be near quitting time and the
-five o'clock rush just beginning. Most people would be going home to
-a hearty dinner&mdash;he skipped that&mdash;and then a quiet evening with the
-television, or perhaps a ringside table at any of the local night spots
-where he used to entertain clients. There would be the many little
-tables with the clean, white tablecloths and the neat arrangement of
-polished silver, the glasses filled to the brim with sparkling clear
-water....</p>
-
-<p>He rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth. It felt like fur.
-Sparkling clear water might be just what he needed. A few sips of ice
-water and a cold, wet-rag on his face would work wonders. Clear, cool,
-gushing, water....</p>
-
-<p>He had to have water! He rolled out of the hammock and dove for the
-water tap. A split second later he remembered his first accident and
-twisted frantically in the air, trying to slow his momentum. He grabbed
-for some pipes that threaded through the cabin, missed, and hit the
-water tap butt first: the plastic panels at the front splintered and
-broke and the tiny aluminum tubing, scientifically designed to deliver
-water under conditions of free flight bent and crumpled.</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford felt wet. He turned and grimly surveyed the demolished water
-tap. A few drops of water floated lazily, tantalizingly in the air. He
-<i>had</i> to have water! A kit near the food locker yielded some cooking
-utensils and an old-fashioned can-opener, one end of which might serve
-as a crude lever. He had to wedge himself between the tap and the
-bulkhead to get leverage to pry with; otherwise, a hearty twist only
-resulted in his body turning a slow circle in the air.</p>
-
-<p>The tubes didn't straighten very easily. Finally, the can-opener broke;
-a loss that didn't become immediately apparent. He grabbed the pipes
-with his hands and heaved outward. They bent. He heaved again and they
-bent still more. On the third heave he felt a slight pain in his side.
-He was exerting quite a bit of effort&mdash;effort which on earth would have
-made him sweat and his heart pump faster. He was sweating now but his
-heart wasn't only pumping faster, it was racing.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>He grasped the pipes harder for a final effort. With a brittle snap,
-one of the connections burst and a few drops of water sprayed out at
-him. He didn't notice. He was holding his sides in pain while his heart
-took off like a race horse. The veins in his wrist swelled to the size
-of lead pencils and he could feel the throbbing pulse of blood. He
-floated stiffly in the air, half paralyzed by sudden fear.</p>
-
-<p>When the pumping had slowed down he turned his attention back to the
-battered pipes. He straightened one of them out&mdash;being careful not to
-over-exert himself&mdash;and used it to suck the water through. The water
-was clear and cold but tasted a little of metal. It refreshed him and
-he began to think of something to go with it. Whether he felt like
-eating or not, it was obviously going to be necessary.</p>
-
-<p><i>It wasn't&mdash;too bad&mdash;so far. He could take the headaches and the nausea
-if he had to. There were&mdash;other things, though. Fear of what might
-happen. Meteorites, for one thing. Chances of his ship colliding with a
-speck of dust were ten million to one against it. But still....</i></p>
-
-<p>He went to the food locker and broke out a small electric hot-plate,
-a skillet, and a dozen eggs. The skillet was a little flatter than an
-ordinary one with a hinged cover to keep the contents in.</p>
-
-<p><i>It wasn't pleasant to think about.... The ship a drifting derelict,
-riddled and airless, with his body frozen as hard as stone floating
-on the inside. What rubbish! Let's see, a one kilogram meteorite
-with a velocity of ten miles a second hitting the hull ... probably
-fuse a section of it. Ten miles ... sixteen kilometers a second,
-approximately....</i></p>
-
-<p>Five minutes later, he was trying to coax an egg, floating sedately in
-mid-air, into it. He'd have the affair around it, hurriedly close the
-lid, and watch the air forced out from between the skillet and the lid
-push the egg away.</p>
-
-<p><i>A one kilogram meteorite at that speed could fuse about fifteen
-kilograms of hull ... about thirty-three pounds, enough to....</i></p>
-
-<p>The trick was to close the lid slowly. With that accomplished he
-discovered that grease wouldn't stay in the bottom of the skillet.
-Finally he filled the skillet with water and poached the egg.</p>
-
-<p>... <i>vaporize a section of the hull big enough so he could poke his
-fist through it ... with a velocity of a hundred miles a second there
-probably wouldn't be enough left of the ship to identify....</i></p>
-
-<p>He dumped the egg into the disposal chute. He had lost his appetite.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Read the meters, list the readings in the log book. Note any changes
-between consecutive readings. Test the air, note the humidity. Read the
-meters, list the readings in the log book. Note the&mdash;oh hell, he knew
-the order by heart as it was. Under <i>Personal Reaction</i> he wrote: <i>damn
-sick and tired of it. Ten days to go before halfway mark.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>He flipped the switch that cut the light circuit and floated lazily in
-the dark. It was peaceful and quiet and his eyes closed in sleep.</p>
-
-<p><i>Tick ... tick ... tick....</i></p>
-
-<p>He jerked awake. What the hell!</p>
-
-<p><i>Tick ... tick ... tick ... tick!</i></p>
-
-<p>It sounded a little faster now.</p>
-
-<p><i>Tick-tick-tick-tick!</i></p>
-
-<p>The ticking swelled to a roar and then subsided to a gentle, purring
-<i>tick ... tick ... tick</i>!</p>
-
-<p>He crouched there in the dark, straining for the sound, wondering what
-it was. It almost sounded like a slow-motion tabulator....</p>
-
-<p><i>The geiger counter!</i></p>
-
-<p>His heart skipped and a cold sweat broke out on his skin. There was a
-counter on board to warn against stray radiation. Not that there would
-be any&mdash;the Cameron-Smith energy converters were shielded so thoroughly
-that not even a single stray particle could get through.</p>
-
-<p><i>They were supposed to be, that is. Was it possible that the engineers
-could have slipped up?</i></p>
-
-<p>Pictures of the survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, hideous with
-radiation keloids, flashed into his mind. A news story about radiation
-poisoning gibbered in the back of his imagination.</p>
-
-<p><i>Tick-tick-tick-tick!</i></p>
-
-<p>Sterility....</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-  <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p>He flipped the light switch and floated over to the counter readings
-on the instrument panel. The row of tiny lights flashed rapidly in
-succession and the counter added another digit.</p>
-
-<p>Stray radiation ... stray.... It came to him, then. For a moment he had
-forgotten that the counter was apt to read high, due to the increase
-in cosmic ray radiation once outside the atmosphere of the earth. He
-laughed weakly. What a thing to forget!</p>
-
-<p>Something snickered in the back of his mind. <i>Yeah, what a thing to
-forget! And how will you tell whether the counter is reading stray
-radiation from the converters or the increase in cosmic rays? The
-engineers never make mistakes, though. Never? Well, hardly ever!</i></p>
-
-<p>The question of adequate shielding of the converters haunted him
-continuously.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>By the sixth day out, Whiteford had become accustomed to the life in
-the cabin. He took it easy getting about and kept up with the business
-of the ship. By splitting the "day" into segments, as on earth, he
-managed to keep up a fairly normal routine. Sixteen hours on duty and
-about eight for sleeping, although sleeping wasn't too easy. He was
-rarely physically tired and made the mistake of trying to force himself
-to sleep. By the sixth "evening" he had developed into a first rate
-insomniac.</p>
-
-<p>And by the sixth evening he was aware that the job of pilot was one of
-sheer boredom. It was dull routine with nothing to break the monotony
-but worry. There was no radio, no television, no telephone to shatter
-the silence. The first day or so he had whistled and sung to himself;
-now he hated the sound of his own voice.</p>
-
-<p>He floated disgustedly in the hammock. He had read the meters, he had
-listed the readings in the log book. He had noted the changes between
-consecutive readings. He had tested the air and noted the humidity; he
-had listed his own physiological reactions from acne to watering eyes.
-He had cleaned and loaded the automatic cameras. All of which took
-about one hour out of every twenty-four.</p>
-
-<p>He threaded his way over to the locker containing the books and games
-Burger had mentioned. Odd that he hadn't thought of it before.</p>
-
-<p>This was more like it. Everything was designed to appeal to the
-businessminded type of man, which was all to the good. He picked up the
-thin books, printed on india paper to conserve weight, and frowned.
-One of them was almost a text on finance; ordinarily, if he could have
-curled up in an easy chair with nothing around to bother him, he'd
-be interested. The other book he had read before. That left one&mdash;and
-fifteen minutes later he discovered that he couldn't concentrate. His
-eyes bothered him and the type blurred; he was a little too sick to
-drum up interest in a book.</p>
-
-<p>He went back to the cabinet and got out a popular parlor game. It was
-designed so that one person could play at it. The game itself was
-simple; based on a combination of finance and mathematics the object
-was to corner all the real estate on the board and "break the bank."
-It provided an hour of amusement. After that he discovered he always
-won; the board was <i>too</i> simple&mdash;he had memorized the exact sequence of
-moves to win the game every time. The remaining game was a complicated
-three-dimensional chess set. This he discarded even sooner. He couldn't
-win at all.</p>
-
-<p>He fell back on a deck of cards and tried to play solitaire but the
-cards were too slick and their weight wouldn't hold them down anymore.
-He would manage to arrange them in neat rows and then accidentally jar
-them and they would go skitting off through the cabin. He finally tore
-the pack in two with disgust and spent the rest of the day picking up
-the pieces from the various corners where he had thrown them.</p>
-
-<p>His nerves were fraying rapidly. He couldn't shave and he couldn't
-shower. The air was dry&mdash;a little too dry&mdash;and he began to itch, a
-vague, annoying sensation that shifted over his body.</p>
-
-<p>And the cabin smelled. The air purifiers worked to satisfaction as far
-as the meters were concerned but the odor of unwashed humanity still
-clung to the cabin. He had a hunch it would get worse as time went on.</p>
-
-<p>He no longer bothered to prepare full meals for himself. He was too
-tired, he didn't want to go to the effort, he didn't feel hungry
-anyways. He ended up by nibbling on cold meats and bread at idle
-moments. With the change in diet, his face broke out in large, ugly
-splotches that bothered him considerably. Among other things, the diet
-he had been originally supplied with had been designed to avoid just
-that. If he had kept on the original diet ... if he had the energy to
-prepare a full meal ... if he didn't feel so damned sick ... if only
-that had been taken into consideration!</p>
-
-<p>The steady, irritating ticking of the geiger counter worried him
-constantly. He could never be sure that the ticking was entirely
-innocent; he grew to have a superstitious dread of the rear bulkhead
-that stood between the cabin and converters. He unconsciously avoided
-it, keeping to the front of the cabin as much as possible.</p>
-
-<p>Little noises startled him. If an occasional drop of water happened to
-collide with him in the cabin, it sent him into a raving fury&mdash;blood
-pressure be damned. He even derived a certain grim amusement from it,
-thinking of the times he had laughed at the typical picture of the
-apoplectic businessman.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>On the eighth day, when making the check of the instrument panel, he
-noticed that the panel on the board reading "Manual Control" was lit;
-the one marked "Automatic" was out. In the middle of the board was the
-face of an oscilloscope with two hair lines intersecting at the middle.
-A small red dot, representing the rocket, should have been set exactly
-at the intersection.</p>
-
-<p>It wasn't. It was at the bottom of the 'scope, almost off the face
-altogether.</p>
-
-<p><i>To hell with all engineers</i>, he snarled to himself.</p>
-
-<p>He would have to jockey the dot back to the center before the automatic
-controls would take over again. If he failed, the rocket would be
-hopelessly off course, a tiny wanderer in space. The auxiliary chemical
-rockets, allowing for two degree corrections in the line of flight,
-would have to be used. They consisted of four sets at right angles to
-each other around the hull. By jockeying between them, he should be
-able to work the ship back.</p>
-
-<p>He pressed the key for firing the portside jets. The next moment he
-felt himself hurled from his position and thrown against the left-hand
-bulkhead. The cabin exploded into a pinwheel of stars that quickly
-faded into blackness.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>His head hurt and something that felt very much like oozing blood
-was sticking his eyelids together. He wrenched them open and rubbed
-his head with his hands, then wiped the stickiness off on the pilot
-suit. It <i>was</i> blood, flowing from a cut in his scalp. Judging from
-the cabin, he had lost quite a bit. But the cut was of secondary
-importance.</p>
-
-<p>He clawed his way back to the oscilloscope. The spot on the face had
-moved way over to the other side of the scope. He braced himself into
-position so that the sudden acceleration wouldn't affect him again. He
-pressed the key very lightly again and waited for the dot to shift.
-Sweat collected on his nose and stayed there. He shook his head and a
-spatter of drops flew off.</p>
-
-<p>The dot on the scope shifted&mdash;too much. He felt weak. This was going
-to be a precision job; the slightest pressure on the firing stud might
-prove to be too much again. He'd have to jockey it back and forth
-until, by sheer luck, he hit the center of the scope. He could do
-it&mdash;but it would take time.</p>
-
-<p>Five hours later a worn out, nervous Whiteford left the control panel
-and drifted wearily over to the hammock. He was dead tired&mdash;so tired he
-couldn't sleep.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>It was the thirteenth day out.</p>
-
-<p>A floating drop of water brushed lightly past Whiteford. He batted at
-it, swore, and began to cry; a peculiar sobbing that shook his whole
-body. He blubbered for ten minutes.</p>
-
-<p>He was sick and hungry. The cut on his head begun to fester and his
-whole head throbbed with pain. There was a first-aid kit in the cabin
-but he felt too weak to get it. His beard itched and his body felt
-slimy; sweat didn't drop off but stuck and spread over his skin until
-it formed a thin coating.</p>
-
-<p><i>Just a poor little lamb who is lost in space, ha&mdash;ha&mdash;ha!</i></p>
-
-<p>The tune slipped into his mind and at the end he laughed with the
-chorus. He couldn't stop laughing. It built up to a hysterical roar
-that left him shaking silently in the hammock.</p>
-
-<p><i>Oh, Whiteford had a spaceship, its hull as white as snow; but every
-time he pressed the stud, the ship refused to go!</i></p>
-
-<p>That was hilariously funny, too.</p>
-
-<p>He was sick, he was tired, he was dirty. He hadn't had enough energy or
-ambition to fill in the log books for the last two days.</p>
-
-<p>Besides, who gave a damn?</p>
-
-<p>He was just the stupid jerk who piloted the thing. What did it matter
-if he got killed in the attempt.</p>
-
-<p><i>My rocket started out for the star-speckled void, my rocket started
-out in great haste; but the g's were far too many for me, and I stuck
-to the bulkhead like paste!</i></p>
-
-<p>Burger and Maxwell had sent a rocket as far as the moon, hadn't they?</p>
-
-<p><i>He was sick&mdash;he didn't care whether he lived or died.</i></p>
-
-<p>He was a sucker. A dope. A sick dope who wished to hell it was all
-over.</p>
-
-<p>The moon was close now. If he waited until he got just a little closer
-and then pressed the portside firing stud, he could wreck their blessed
-rocket. Serve Burger and Maxwell right. As for himself, he was so sick
-of the whole thing that death would come as a relief.</p>
-
-<p>That's what he'd do....</p>
-
-<p><i>My bonny, my bonny, my bonny so true, do you think you will miss me if
-I die in the blue?</i></p>
-
-<p>C day for Crack-up day! He put his thumb on the key and allowed himself
-five extra seconds of gloating. The company would have a tough time
-sending a wreath to his funeral. The company....</p>
-
-<p><i>Who in hell would run Personnel Incorporated if he failed to return?</i>
-He nodded his head thoughtfully, faintly surprised that he hadn't
-thought of it before.</p>
-
-<p>Who <i>would</i> run the company? He was the only one who knew how. He <i>was</i>
-the company. He had practically raised it all by himself to where it
-was now.</p>
-
-<p>He took his thumb off the key.</p>
-
-<p>And what would happen to the company's reputation if he failed to come
-back? That meant that their slogan no longer held&mdash;that they hadn't
-found the man for the job. And he hadn't kidded about the mottos. They
-had been capable of finding a man to do any job&mdash;even this one. Not
-just to go out on a job. To <i>do</i> a job.</p>
-
-<p>He had a sudden vision of Maxwell shouting gleefully: "I told you so!
-Personnel can't supply the man!"</p>
-
-<p>Five minutes later he hardly remembered his desire to crash the ship.
-He thought fleetingly of the movies showing the crack-up of the first
-ship. Something pretty much the same as had happened to him must have
-happened to the pilot on the first flight.</p>
-
-<p>He shuddered and kicked his way over to the first-aid kit.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>The next day the ship began the long smooth curve that would carry it
-around the moon and on the last leg of the journey. Whiteford went to
-the panel board and pressed the key releasing the steel porthole caps.
-He pressed the key again and when they still didn't move realized they
-were stuck. It wouldn't be hard to find the trouble but....</p>
-
-<p>It wasn't worth the effort. He didn't give a damn whether he saw the
-moon or not.</p>
-
-<p>He drifted back to the hammock and went into an almost coma state
-staring dully at the overhead. He lay that way until time came for his
-next round of readings.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Two thousand miles out from earth the ship started the first of a
-dozen trips around the earth that would slow it down for a landing.
-Five hundred miles up the ship entered the first tenuous wisps of
-atmosphere. A hundred miles up, the air was screaming past the ship
-and the hull begun to get warm. Ten miles up Whiteford jettisoned the
-rocket tubes and engine over the Atlantic ocean. At the same time he
-released the double duty nylon parachute attached to the cabin.</p>
-
-<p>Inside, Whiteford had begun to experience discomfort as his weight
-returned. It was an effort to move around and his heart beat seemed
-sluggish. His stomach sagged heavily and he thought wistfully of a
-gentleman's girdle. Water bubbled merrily from the broken water pipes
-and splashed unheeded on the deck.</p>
-
-<p>The cabin thudded on something soft and Whiteford crawled to the hatch
-and opened it. The ship was floating on a large body of water. Waves
-slapped cheerfully against the hull and overhead a few startled gulls
-cawed angrily. A cool gust of fresh air blew in. Whiteford hauled
-himself erect and stripped off the pilot suit. He stood nude in the
-opening, inhaling the air in greedy gulps. It smelled as clean and cool
-as the conditioned air in his office at Personnel Incorporated.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>"Ahoy, there!"</p>
-
-<p>There was a boat a few feet from the hatch.</p>
-
-<p>"Coming aboard!" They drifted closer and one of the men in the boat
-grabbed the ladder by the hatchway. Five men and a woman tumbled aboard.</p>
-
-<p>"The Coast Guard at your...."</p>
-
-<p>"I'm from the Daily Newsworld, Mr. Whiteford. I wonder...."</p>
-
-<p>"What was it like in space...."</p>
-
-<p>"You must have been simply <i>thrillllled</i>...."</p>
-
-<p>Burger's bald head pushed itself forward. "How did the moon look to
-you, Mr. Whiteford?"</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford had to think a little. "Come to think of it, I never saw it."</p>
-
-<p>There was a dead silence.</p>
-
-<p>"Oh, it's all on the films the automatic cameras shot. I wasn't too
-much interested myself."</p>
-
-<p>The reporters frowned in disappointment but tried again.</p>
-
-<p>"What do you intend to do now that you're back? Do the town, go on a
-fishing trip...."</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford looked at them as if they had crawled out from under a rock.
-"Nonsense!" he snarled. "I'll get back to my office, of course!"</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Maxwell looked at the president of Personnel approvingly. "I honestly
-didn't think you could do it, once I heard that you had gone." He
-paused and fumbled with his pipe. "Pretty tough, wasn't it?"</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford knocked the ash off his cigarette and reached for the bottle
-of pills on his desk. "I wouldn't say so," he said expansively. "Just a
-matter of being fitted for the job."</p>
-
-<p>Maxwell inspected his fingernails. "You didn't take the examinations
-your own outfit rigged up. Any particular reason?"</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford looked annoyed. "I was technically qualified&mdash;engineering
-course in college. As for the rest, I successfully piloted the ship
-which should establish something on that score."</p>
-
-<p>Maxwell twirled his hat self-consciously. A half smile played on his
-lips. "Oh, sure. Absolutely." He tamped his pipe. "You know, it's hard
-to visualize anybody wanting to go to the moon. It must be&mdash;well, some
-terrific drive that makes them do it."</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford stared at him suspiciously. "What are you getting at?"</p>
-
-<p>Maxwell looked innocent and gave an exaggerated shrug. "Why, nothing!
-Nothing at all. It's just that it seems ... seems so unusual that you
-couldn't find a qualified man, a completely <i>normal</i> man who wanted to
-go!"</p>
-
-<p>The temperature in the room dropped thirty degrees. "Implying,"
-Whiteford said icily, "that I'm not quite sane?"</p>
-
-<p>Maxwell stood up and chuckled. "Exactly. Hasn't it occurred to you that
-the qualifications you set up for a pilot were all wrong? When has a
-<i>completely</i> normal man ever succeeded at <i>anything</i> that was a little
-difficult? Why did you succeed? Because you're just a shade neurotic,
-because you've got a streak of monomania in you. It's what built
-up Personnel Incorporated. It's what got you to the moon and back.
-Hell, Whiteford, after this when we want pilots we'll just run your
-characteristics on the sorter and pick them out that way!"</p>
-
-<p>Whiteford glared at him and for a moment Maxwell felt sorry. He had
-pushed a big man off a pedestal; he had punctured an ego.</p>
-
-<p>Suddenly Whiteford grinned self-consciously. "Maybe you've got a point
-there. I never thought of it that way."</p>
-
-<p>Maxwell started for the door and paused, his hand on the knob. The look
-he gave Whiteford was one of sudden admiration.</p>
-
-<p>"There's something else, too. Something that it takes to send a man to
-the moon and back and something you can't measure on an IBM machine."
-He paused. "It takes courage. A hell of a lot of it."</p>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WANTED: ONE SANE MAN ***</div>
-<div style='text-align:left'>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Updated editions will replace the previous one&#8212;the old editions will
-be renamed.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
-law 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&#8482; electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG&#8482;
-concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
-and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
-the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
-of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
-copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
-easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
-of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
-Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may
-do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
-by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
-license, especially commercial redistribution.
-</div>
-
-<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br />
-<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br />
-PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span>
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-To protect the Project Gutenberg&#8482; 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 &#8220;Project
-Gutenberg&#8221;), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
-Project Gutenberg&#8482; License available with this file or online at
-www.gutenberg.org/license.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'>
-Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg&#8482; electronic works
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg&#8482;
-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&#8482; electronic works in your
-possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
-Project Gutenberg&#8482; 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.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.B. &#8220;Project Gutenberg&#8221; 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&#8482; 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&#8482; electronic works if you follow the terms of this
-agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg&#8482;
-electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (&#8220;the
-Foundation&#8221; or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
-of Project Gutenberg&#8482; electronic works. Nearly all the individual
-works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
-States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law 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&#8482; mission of promoting
-free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg&#8482;
-works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
-Project Gutenberg&#8482; 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&#8482; License when
-you share it without charge with others.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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&#8482; work. The Foundation makes no
-representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
-country other than the United States.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
-immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg&#8482; License must appear
-prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg&#8482; work (any work
-on which the phrase &#8220;Project Gutenberg&#8221; appears, or with which the
-phrase &#8220;Project Gutenberg&#8221; is associated) is accessed, displayed,
-performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
-</div>
-
-<blockquote>
-  <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-    other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
-    are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
-    of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
-  </div>
-</blockquote>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg&#8482; electronic work is
-derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (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 &#8220;Project
-Gutenberg&#8221; 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&#8482;
-trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg&#8482; 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&#8482; License for all works
-posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
-beginning of this work.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg&#8482;
-License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
-work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg&#8482;.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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&#8482; License.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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&#8482; work in a format
-other than &#8220;Plain Vanilla ASCII&#8221; or other format used in the official
-version posted on the official Project Gutenberg&#8482; website
-(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 &#8220;Plain
-Vanilla ASCII&#8221; or other form. Any alternate format must include the
-full Project Gutenberg&#8482; License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
-performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg&#8482; works
-unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
-access to or distributing Project Gutenberg&#8482; electronic works
-provided that:
-</div>
-
-<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'>
-    <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'>
-        &bull; You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
-        the use of Project Gutenberg&#8482; works calculated using the method
-        you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
-        to the owner of the Project Gutenberg&#8482; 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, &#8220;Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
-        Literary Archive Foundation.&#8221;
-    </div>
-
-    <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'>
-        &bull; 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&#8482;
-        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&#8482;
-        works.
-    </div>
-
-    <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'>
-        &bull; 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.
-    </div>
-
-    <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'>
-        &bull; You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
-        distribution of Project Gutenberg&#8482; works.
-    </div>
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
-Gutenberg&#8482; electronic work or group of works on different terms than
-are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
-from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
-the Project Gutenberg&#8482; trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
-forth in Section 3 below.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.F.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
-effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
-works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
-Gutenberg&#8482; collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg&#8482;
-electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
-contain &#8220;Defects,&#8221; 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.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the &#8220;Right
-of Replacement or Refund&#8221; described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
-Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
-Gutenberg&#8482; trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
-Gutenberg&#8482; 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 1.F.3. 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.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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 &#8216;AS-IS&#8217;, WITH NO
-OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
-LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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&#8482; electronic works in
-accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
-production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg&#8482;
-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&#8482; work, (b) alteration, modification, or
-additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg&#8482; work, and (c) any
-Defect you cause.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'>
-Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg&#8482;
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Project Gutenberg&#8482; 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.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
-assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg&#8482;&#8217;s
-goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg&#8482; 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&#8482; 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 information page at www.gutenberg.org.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'>
-Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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&#8217;s EIN or federal tax identification
-number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
-Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
-U.S. federal laws and your state&#8217;s laws.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-The Foundation&#8217;s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
-Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
-to date contact information can be found at the Foundation&#8217;s website
-and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'>
-Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Project Gutenberg&#8482; depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
-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.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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: www.gutenberg.org/donate
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'>
-Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg&#8482; electronic works
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
-Gutenberg&#8482; concept of a library of electronic works that could be
-freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
-distributed Project Gutenberg&#8482; eBooks with only a loose network of
-volunteer support.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Project Gutenberg&#8482; eBooks are often created from several printed
-editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
-the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
-necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
-edition.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
-facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-This website includes information about Project Gutenberg&#8482;,
-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.
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-</body>
-</html>
diff --git a/old/66612-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/66612-h/images/cover.jpg
deleted file mode 100644
index 883aa21..0000000
--- a/old/66612-h/images/cover.jpg
+++ /dev/null
diff --git a/old/66612-h/images/illus.jpg b/old/66612-h/images/illus.jpg
deleted file mode 100644
index a1e6494..0000000
--- a/old/66612-h/images/illus.jpg
+++ /dev/null
diff --git a/old/66612-h/images/illusc.jpg b/old/66612-h/images/illusc.jpg
deleted file mode 100644
index a99ff27..0000000
--- a/old/66612-h/images/illusc.jpg
+++ /dev/null