The Project Gutenberg eBook of Title fight

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: Title fight

Author: William Campbell Gault

Release date: November 19, 2023 [eBook #72172]

Language: English

Original publication: New York, NY: King-Size Publications, Inc, 1956

Credits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TITLE FIGHT ***

title fight

By WILLIAM C. GAULT

These robots were coming up in the world, getting too

big for their britches. Nick Nolan would show them....

In every robot brain there was a remote-controlled circuit breaker—and in every robot brain there was resentment and the determination to work for THE DAY. William Campbell Gault, better known to the readers of our companion magazine, The Saint Detective Magazine, tells the compelling story of the robots who passed and the robots who fought and who planned for the moment—and what happened....

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from

Fantastic Universe December 1956.

Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that

the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

The sounds from above were dim in the dressing room. Over his head, between him and the thousands of fans, were the tons of concrete, robot-made concrete. Man conceived but robot made.

He looked down at his hands, his strong, short-fingered hands. Complete with fingerprints—but of protonol. Who'd know it, to look at them? In man's image, he was made. In God's image, man was made, if one believed in that, any more. In man's image, he was made, but not with man's status.

His name was Alix 1340, which meant only that he was the thirteen hundred and fortieth of the Alix type. The short, broad Nordic type. In about twenty minutes, he was due in the ring. He was fighting for the middleweight championship of the world.

Joe Nettleton had dreamed that one up. It had been born in the verbiage of his daily syndicated sports column, nurtured by the fans' clamor, and fanned into reality—by what? Animosity? These robots were coming up in the world, getting too big for their britches. Nick Nolan would show this Alix his place.

Nick was the champ, a man, made in His image. He butted and thumbed and gouged and heeled. His favorite target was the groin. But he was a man. Oh, yes, he was a man. A champion among men.

Manny came in. His real title was Manuel 4307, but robots like to forget the numbers. He was Manny, Alix's manager and number one second. A deft and sharp and able robot, Manny.

He said, "I thought it would be better if we were alone. No fans, especially. And I've had a bellyfull of sports writers."

"Even Joe Nettleton?" Alix asked. "Joe's on our side, isn't he?"

"It's hard to say. Do you ever wonder about him, Alix?"

Alix didn't answer, right away. He knew there were robots who 'passed', went over to the status line and lived as humans. He didn't know how many there were, and he often wondered about them. In every robot brain, there was a remote-controlled circuit breaker. They could be stopped with the throwing of a switch at the personnel center. There was a well-guarded office and a man on duty at that center twenty-four hours of every day.

Now Alix said, "I never thought much about Joe, either way."

"What have you been thinking?" Manny asked.

"I've been thinking," Alix said slowly, "that we fight man's wars and pulverate his garbage and dehydrate his sewerage, but we're not citizens. Why, Manny?"

"We're not human. We're not—orthodox." Manny was watching him closely as he spoke.

"Not human? They feed us Bach and Brahms and Beethoven and Shakespeare and Voltaire in our incubation period, don't they? And all the others I've forced myself to forget. Does this—this soul come from somewhere outside the system?"

"I guess it does. They don't feed us much religion, but I guess it comes from God."

"And what's He like?"

"It would depend upon who you ask, I guess," Manny said. "Sort of a superman. From Him they get their charity and tolerance and justice and all the rest of their noble attributes." Manny's laugh was bitter. "How they love themselves."

"They're so sure about everything else," Alix said, "but not very sure of their God. Is that it?"

"That's about it. I heard one man say He watches when a sparrow falls. I guess we're less than the sparrows, Alix."

There was a silence, and then Manny put a hand on Alix's shoulder. "We've got about fifteen minutes, and I've got a million things to say. Maybe I should have said them earlier."

Alix turned at the gravity of Manny's voice. His lumagel eyes went over Manny's dark face, absorbing his rigid intensity. Whatever it was that was coming, it was more important than the fight.

Manny said quietly, "Win this one, and blood will run in the streets, Alix."

"Human blood?"

"White man's blood. We've got the Negro, and the Jap and the Chinamen and all the rest of them who got their rights so recently. And what kind of rights have they got? Civil, not in the people's hearts. You think those races don't know it? We were talking of their God, Alix. Well, the robots have one, too. His name is Alix 1340."

"Manny, you've gone crazy."

"Have I? Joe Nettleton's one of us, Alix. This was his scheme, and the four men who run the switch at the personnel center; they're ours, too. Top robots. Their I.Q.'s all crowding two hundred. We've got the brains, Alix, and the man power. We've got the combined venom of a billion non-whites. And now we've got you."

"A pug. What kind of god would I make? You're off the beam, Manny."

"Am I? Did I ever give you anything but the straight dope? They adore you, Alix. You've been a model to them. You could be their king, if you say the word."

"You've been setting this up, you and Joe Nettleton? This fight tonight's the crisis? You've been building toward tonight."

"But it takes a front man, a symbol. You're the only one who can be that. You're the only one they'd all back."

Alix looked again at his hands, the hands that had taken him to the first mixed fight in history, to a title fight. 'Man Versus The Machine' most of the sports scribes had labeled it, though not Joe Nettleton. Machine? A machine that had assimilated Voltaire? A machine that had listened to Brahms?

What differentiates man from his machines? Supremacy? Supremacy would be established tonight. No, it wasn't physical supremacy. And there were robots far beyond man's mental powers.

The spark, then, the spark from their God? How did they know they had it? In all the wrangling mysticism that had gone through so many directed misinterpretations, where could they find their God?

"Thinking it over?" Manny asked. "Why so quiet, Alix?"

Alix's grin was saturnine. "Believe it or not, I was thinking of God."

"Their God?"

Alix frowned. "I suppose. Theirs' and the sparrows'."

There were three spaced knocks at the door. Manny said, "Joe Nettleton. He wants to talk to you. We've got about eight minutes, Alix." He went to the door.

Joe Nettleton was tall, and pale and brown-eyed. The eyes should be lumagel, and Alix studied them, but could note no difference from those of a man.

Joe said to Manny, "He knows?"

Manny nodded.

Joe turned back. "Well—Alix—?"

"I don't know. It's—it's—monstrous, it's—" He shrugged his shoulders and pounded one hand into the palm of the other.

"You're it, Alix. King, god, what you will. For six years, I've built you up—in their papers, in their minds. Clean, quiet, hard working Alix. And humble. Oh, the humility I gave you has made me cry, at times."

Manny said in mild protest, "You didn't have to build that angle much. Alix is humble. Alix is—he's—he's—" And the articulate Manny had no words.

Joe Nettleton's pale face was cynical. He said, "The way you feel is the way they all feel—the black ones out there and the brown ones and the yellow ones."

"They've got their rights," Alix said.

"Have they? Take a look at the first twenty rows, ringside. You'll see what rights they have, word rights, paper rights. But not in the hearts of men. Oh, the grapes of wrath are out there, Alix, beyond the twentieth row. Haven't you any sense of history, of destiny?"

Alix didn't answer.

Manny said, "He's been thinking of God, he tells me."

Joe Nettleton's face was blank. "God? Their God?" He looked at Alix wonderingly. "This Superman they scare us with? You don't eat that malarkey, do you, Alix?"

Alix shrugged, saying nothing.

"They don't believe it themselves," Joe protested. "It's one of those symbols they set up, to make them superior. They ever tell you what He looks like? Oh, they give Him a prophet, sure, and the prophet gives them words to live by. Don't kill, don't steal, don't lie, don't lust, don't envy—Words, Alix, words, words, words—Judge them by their actions."

Alix looked up. "I'm not—cut out to be a leader."

"Yes, you are. And I cut you out, in their minds, with words. The brown ones read me and the black ones and the yellow ones, and I built you up, in their minds—and tonight they'll wait for a signal from you."

"A signal from me? Are you—what—?"

"A signal from you. To those in the crowd, to those watching on the video screens, the ones who are briefed and know about rioting, about how to steer a revolution. Think of the irony of it—man's prejudice building the army of resentment and man's genius building the machines that army can use to destroy man—white man. White man—first."

"First—?" Manny said. "You've dreams beyond tonight, Joe?"

Joe smiled disarmingly. "I use too many words. That one got away. We can't think beyond tonight, now." He turned to Alix. "It's not an involved signal, Alix. It's just one word. The word is 'kill'. From you it's more than a word, it's an order."

There was a knock at the door, and the sono-bray above the door said, "Time to go up. Time for the big one."

All three were silent, and then Joe put a hand on Alix's shoulder. "You can't give the signal from your back, Alix. You'd better be standing up, when this one is over with."

Alix looked at Joe, trying to read behind those brown eyes. Alix said, "I'll be standing up. There's never been a second I doubted that."

They went out, and there was a clamor, a ring of scribes in the corridor beyond the showers. One of them voiced it for all of them, "What the hell is this, Manny? Joe a cousin, or something. How about a statement?"

Manny looked at them bleakly. "We hope to win, but we're up against a superior being. It's in God's lap."

Cynical men, but they resented the blasphemy—coming from a robot.

Joe said, "And Alix is his prophet. Who's betting what?"

No answer. They stared at Joe, and some wrote down a few words. One of them looked at Alix.

"How about you, Alix? How do you feel?"

Alix, the humble, the new day Uncle Tom, the subservient. Alix lifted his chin and didn't smile. "Confident. I'll win."

"How?" another asked.

"Hitting him harder, and oftener. What's he got but a hook and an iron jaw?"

"Guts," one of them said. "You've got to hand him that, Alix."

"I concede nothing," Alix answered. "We'll see, tonight."

There were no further questions. They went down the long aisle that led to the bright ring, Manny and Alix and the other handler, who'd been waiting in the prelim boys' shower room.

Eighty thousand people in the Bowl, a clear, warm night, and millions watching on the video screens around the globe. Video hadn't hurt this one—this was history, a robot crossing the status line. They wanted to be a part of this.

The referee was black, Willie Newton. It would look like less favoritism, if the referee was black, reasoned the white man in their left-handed reasoning.

Bugs around the arcs, and big, ebony Willie in his striped shirt, waiting in the ring, smiling, just happening to be in Alix's corner as he climbed through.

Willie bent, pretending to help part the ropes. Willie whispered, "You'll get all the breaks you need, Alix."

Alix came through and stood erect. "I don't want a single break, Willie, just a fair shake. You can understand it has to be like that."

"I can, Alix. I'm sorry. About the name—just Alix? Or I could blur the rest."

"Alix one-three-four-oh, not blurred. It's my name."

He turned from Willie then, acknowledging the thunder behind him, both hands high in salute. He could see the rows stretching out from ringside—the first twenty all white. Most of the thunder came from high in the stands.

And now the champ came down his aisle, his faded purple dressing robe across his bulky shoulders, his handlers a respectful few paces behind him.

Nick Nolan, the middleweight champion of the world. His ears were lumpy, his brows ridged with scar tissue. His round head centered on those bulky shoulders, apparently with no neck to connect them. A fringe of red hair and a brutal, thick featured face.

Made in His image?

Some words ran through Alix's mind—"Is this the Thing Lord God made and gave—To have dominion over sea and land...?"

This was a hell of a time to be recalling Markham.

Nick came over to his corner, the false geniality on his face as phoney as the gesture of a champ coming to the challenger's corner. Nick said, "Best—between us, huh?"

"The better," Alix corrected him. "Keep them above the belt, Nick."

Nick grinned. "Don't I always? I came up the hard way, Alix."

Alix said nothing, staring.... when this dumb Terror shall rise to judge the world....

A man with a hook and an urge to combat. The hard way? Maybe. He'd taken enough punches to give him a lifetime lease on Queer Street. But he'd handed out more than he'd received. A spoiler and a mixer. A weight-draper and in-fighter and an easy bleeder.

Blood will run in the streets, Alix....

In the ring, Nick's blood would flow, and further stain the spotted canvas. In the streets, the blood of Nick's brothers would flow, in the streets around the world.

Title fight? Oh, yes.

The Irishman first, he'd come up through the ring to his grudging equality, and the Jew, then, and the Filipino and the Negro and the Cuban and all the others who wouldn't stay down. Who had their fists and their guts. Mickey Walker, Benny Leonard, Joe Louis—immortals all. Great men, great champs, great memories.

And he? Alix 1340? Different, a machine, no spark. He'd almost forgotten about no spark.

Nick's manager came over to inspect the bandages on Alix's hands, and then went back to his corner with Manny to inspect those on the battered hands of the champ.

Alix's hands were clean lined, no breaks, no lumps. Alix was a scientific hitter, and his protocol was better than the natural product.

He watches the sparrows, Manny had said. A signal, Joe had said. I wish somebody would give me a signal, Alix thought. It's too big for me.

The introductions, the numbers not blurred. The instructions, and Willie saying, "Clean tonight, Nick. I know you well, Nick. But this one is touchy, remember."

"Ah, save it," Nick told him. Champ, big man, Nick Nolan.

The buzzer and Manny's brief pat on the shoulder. Rising, and flexing on the ropes, looking down into that sea of faces, white faces. The ones who held dominion over sea and land.

Bugs in the arcs, a hush on the crowd and the bell.

Alix turned and here came Nick, shuffling across, wasting no time, bringing the fight to the upstart.

Nick had a right hand, too, but it was clumsy. The hook was better trained. Alix circled to his left, away from Nick's left, and put his jab easily to Nick's nose.

There are sportswriters, Alix knew, who talked of a right hook, but a man would need to be a contortionist to throw it. Unless he was completely unorthodox. Or a southpaw.

Nick was neither. Nick had a right hand like a mallet, but it came from below or above, and was telegraphed by the pulling up of his right foot. Nick saved that for the time his opponent couldn't see or react.

Nick came in with the hook, trying to slide under Alix's extended left hand, trying to time the pattern of his feet to Alix's circling, looking for the hole.

Alix peppered him with the left, and then saw the low left hand of Nick's. Alix stopped circling—and tossed a singing right.

It traveled over Nick's left and found the button. Nick took two stumbling backward steps, and went down.

Resin dust swirled and the scream of the stands was like a single anguished cry.

Alix went to a neutral corner, shrugging his shoulder muscles loose, trying to still the sudden pounding of his heart. Nick had been knocked down before, often.

He took a full count, under the rules, but was on one knee at three. The big black semaphore of Willie's right hand and then those hands wiping the gloves and Willie stepping clear.

Nick stormed in. He got through Alix's left, this time, and sent a looping right hand high. It missed, but it was meant to miss. Nick's elbow smashed Alix's mouth.

Rage, a red rage and they stood in the corner, trading leather.

The hook came in low, and pain knifed into Alix's groin. In his aching blindness he could feel Nick's feet groping for his, trying to find his instep.

Champion, model.

Alix grabbed, and hung on. This one he had to win. This one could be lost, right now.

Nick said, "Break it up, phoney man. I can't hit you when you're hanging on."

The big slap of Willie's hand. Willie, playing it straight. Alix broke at the touch.

Alix broke—and Nick threw the right hand, on the break.

Foul? Of course, but Alix went down, his senses numb, his mind turning black. He lay on his face, not moving, the blackness moving through his body.

What's this God like? It would depend upon who you ask. They ever tell you what He looks like? The blackness turned red, the red of blood, running in the streets. And there was suddenly a cross, and a dim figure and he heard Willie's sonorous, "Five, six—"

He turned over at seven, was on one knee at eight and up at nine. And Nick came bulling in, both hands ready.

The bell.

He got to his corner without Manny's help. The magic of Manny's hands dug at his neck, bringing clarity. The ice, the other handler probing at his flaccid legs.

"I saw a cross, Manny."

"Nobody's crossing us, Alix. Don't think, Alix. Here." He gave him the water bottle.

Alix rinsed his mouth, and spit it out. "He's rough, Manny. He knows all the tricks."

"Don't you?"

"I don't want to. I saw a cross when I was unconscious, Manny. A cross like you see on a church."

"Don't tell me about it. Get him, boy. Don't try to mix with him, but get him, with that left, with your speed, with your brain. Get him."

"I'll try. But he's not typical, Manny. They're not all like Nick."

"The hell they aren't. He's one of the better ones. Get him."

The buzzer, the bell, and Nick.

Nick with the iron jaw, Nick with the hook and the bulging shoulders, Nick the champion.

Alix put the left into Nick's face, but it wasn't a jab. It was a straight left, with shoulder in it. It twisted Nick's nose, and brought blood.

Nick was nettled, and he charged. He charged into a straight, sweet right hand that was delivered from a flat-footed stance. Nick wavered, and tried to grab.

Alix felt his strength pour back and the pattern of his feet was sure and planned. A left, a feint, a jolting right, moving around this hulk, this blundering knot of flesh and muscle, beating a tattoo on him, spreading the blood. Get him.

It looked like a slaughter-house. Blood all over Nick's face, and blood matting the curled, sweaty hair on his chest. Starting to look dazed, starting to wonder, the champ. The untypical man? He must be, he had to be, to have dominion over sea and land.

Why didn't he go down? Couldn't he see the pattern of it, the pattern Alix was tracing for him with his blood-soaked gloves? Why didn't he go down? Why didn't he quit?

He hadn't quit by the end of the fifth round. Out there, those eighty thousand were silent. This was no fight, this was now murder. Why didn't he quit?

Alix asked Manny, on the stool, before the sixth, "Why doesn't he quit? He can't win. Manny, I hate to hit him."

"Don't be a sucker. Don't be a damned fool." Manny's voice was hoarse. "As long as there's a spark of life in those bastards, they won't quit. He's dangerous yet, Alix."

A spark, a spark—Life? Cognizance? No, life, a spark of life.

In the sixth, Nick almost went to his knees, in the middle of the ring. But he got control, and stumbled toward Alix.

Alix came in fast and carelessly—and the earth erupted.

He's dangerous, yet, Alix. There was no blackness this time, just the blood red. There was no cross. But a voice? "In the sky, in the sky—" Silence.

Get up, Alix. For the black and brown and red and yellow who are watching you, around the world, get up. You're their hope, you're their WORD. Up, to one knee, and up just under the wire.

Nick didn't charge, this time. Wary and careful, he was, after the pasting he'd been taking. Let Alix make the mistakes, like the one he just had. Nick only needed one more.

Manny said, "Can you hit him, now? Still mourning for him, are you?"

Alix said, "I'm a machine, Manny. He can't hurt me. I can hurt him, but he can't hurt me."

"That's my boy." Manny said. "I'm glad you know what side of the fence you're on, finally."

"I know my place," Alix said. "I know my job."

"That you do. Get him."

He got him. They don't quit, these men. Not while they're conscious. Not while they're alive. Alix hit him everywhere there was room to hit, with both hands, knocking him down four times in the seventh round.

Each time, Nick got up. And in the eighth, he came out to meet Alix, walking into his doom, not flinching, not hiding, putting his crown on the line.

Supremacy? Nick had it, bastard though he was. But for how long? How long could he stay that dumb and still live?

Nick came out, his low hands a farce of a defense.

How long could he hold the animosity down with his arrogance and his brutality and his shoddiness? How much time did he have? Alix knew.

Nick came out for the eighth, and Alix hit him with a solid right hand. He didn't set it up, or feint Nick into the spot, or hesitate. There wasn't any need to.

He put all his weight and most of his bitterness into the button-shot that made him middleweight champion of the world.

Silence, a shocked silence at the history before them, and then, from the far seats, from the cheap seats, acclamation. The video cameras covered the ring, the crowd; the lights went on all over the huge bowl.

Manny hugged him, Joe Nettleton hugged him, and others.

In the far seats, no one moved. In the near seats, no one moved. Joe said, "The word, Alix."

They were bringing the banked microphones over, the microphones that would carry the word all over the world. The cameras trained on him. The word.

He looked at Joe, and Manny. He brought the mikes to mouth level, and moved back a bit. He said, "I won, tonight. I've no message for you. But someone has. It's in the sky."

Craning necks, a murmur, the cameras leaving Alix as the operators swung the huge machines toward the red letters in the sky.

Beside him, Manny gasped. Joe Nettleton stared, unbelieving, his mouth slack.

Red letters? Something like red, but luminous and miles high, and definite. The cameras were trained directly on it, now.

FIND YOUR GOD.

Manny said, "Alix—how—Are you, did you—? Alix, what in hell are you?"

"There's more to it they don't know," Alix said. "It's 'find your God or your machines will kill you'. I don't think there's any need to tell them the rest if they obey the first."

Manny said hoarsely, "But this message came through you? You're a—"

"A prophet? Me, a machine, Alix 1340?"

Joe said, "You're not sending out the other word?"

"Not yet. It's not time."

"How do you know," Manny cut in. "How do you know if it's time or not? And if their God wanted to send a message, why should he use a machine? Why should he use you?"

"Because," Alix said, "no man would listen. And if they don't listen, now, Manny, our time will come...."

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TITLE FIGHT ***

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™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ 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™ 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™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ 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™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ 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™ 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™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ 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™ 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™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ 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™ 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™ 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™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ 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™ 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™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ 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™ 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™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

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™ 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™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ 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™ 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™ 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™ electronic works provided that:

- • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ 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™ 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™ 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™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ 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™ 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™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ 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™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ 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™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ 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™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ 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™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ 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™ 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™ 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™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ 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™, 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.

Table of Contents

title fight

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE