The Floater
Date: 2019-06-09T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science fiction; Short stories; Psychological fiction; Space stations -- Fiction; Time -- Fiction; Psychologists -- Fiction; Solitude -- Fiction

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Floater

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: The Floater

Author: Bryce Walton

Illustrator: Paul Orban

Release date: June 9, 2019 [eBook #59712]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/59712

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

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLOATER ***

THE FLOATER

BY KENNETH O'HARA

Barton was unique—an absolutely self-sufficient
human being. The biggest problem he had in space
was holding on to his sanity. And he solved it by
altering time itself to suit his needs....

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, February 1957.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

As a Watchman in a man-made kind of observational meteor floating millions of miles from nowhere out among the planets, Barton had two main duties. To keep his sanity and to keep the watch. The second was simple. The gadgets all took care of themselves. All Barton did was send in a report in case an alarm went off indicating something was wrong with some gadget or other.

Staying sane was supposed to be a watcher's big problem. Barton couldn't figure out why they were so concerned, especially the neuropsychologist or whatever he was, Von Ulrich, who was always coming around in his clinical space boat, studying Barton, asking him questions, giving him all kinds of tests.

Once something glinted like a mote in sunlight past the observation port and Von Ulrich said, "That's Collins out there. Collins was here only a week and he put on a pressure suit and jumped into space. He's still rotating round and round out there."

"Poor devil," Barton said.

"Most of them don't even last a week out here, Barton. Six months is the maximum. You've been here almost a year and you're liable to start cracking any minute. I don't like the way things look."

"I feel fine, sir."

Several months later, Von Ulrich dropped by again. "How are things going, Barton?"

"Great, sir. Just swell."

"You feel comfortable, no anxiety?"

"I feel fine."

"You've done a fine job, Barton—so far."

"Thank you, sir."

"You manage to keep occupied?"

"I just take it easy, sir."

"I see."

A few months later, Von Ulrich was back, watching Barton moulding something out of clay, a sort of human shape without a face. There were other self-amusement gimmicks, wood-working, soap-carving, movies and the like, but Barton preferred moulding things haphazardly out of clay, and sometimes reading one of the books he wasn't supposed to have brought along because books were no longer popular.

"What were you thinking about when you moulded this thing?" Von Ulrich asked.

"Nothing much, sir."

"You must have been thinking of something?"

"I guess I was thinking of a man sleeping beside a river in green grass with nobody for miles around. Something like that."

"You weren't by any chance thinking about a dead man?"

"I don't like death much."

Later on sometime, Von Ulrich dropped around again on his therapeutic tour of basketballs, and Martian bases, and other bases even more remote. Barton wondered how anyone could find the basketball drifting in all that blackness. Just a little ragged spheroid like a piece of dead slag, something like a cork bobbing in a black ocean too big even to bother thinking about. If no one ever found the basketball Barton would have been happier, because the basketball was self-sustaining and could go on and on for years without supplies or any human contact.

"Getting a little lonely maybe?" Von Ulrich asked.

"No sir."

"Don't miss having people around. Your wife, your son?"

Barton wanted to laugh.

"Well, I'll be back to see you, Barton. I may be gone a year this time."

"Happy New Year," Barton said.

But it didn't seem like a year when Von Ulrich came back in his sleek little space-hopping clinic. It didn't seem like much of anything.

"You don't find the absence of women irritating, Barton?"

"I can take them or leave them, sir."

"Not here. There simply aren't any at all."

"I like something, but then if it isn't there, I don't miss it."

"All right, Barton," Von Ulrich would say after giving Barton more brain-wave tests, word-association tests and making him look at ink-blots until his eyes turned red. "See you in a few months."

"See you, sir," Barton said.

And sure enough, as though he had never really been away, Von Ulrich would show up again, with his testing devices, his cages of mice and guinea pigs, and his intense searching eyes. He had a folder of pictures and after ink-blot tests, he had Barton look at the pictures, like the one of a man in deep shadow standing over a sleeping kid.

"What do you see there, Barton?"

"A guy standing over a kid."

"What's he doing there?"

"I haven't any idea."

"Is the child sleeping?"

"Maybe it's just pretending."

"Pretending what?"

"Or maybe it's dead."

Von Ulrich's thin face frowned intensely. "Is the child pretending to be asleep, or is it dead?"

"Maybe it isn't a real kid. Maybe it's a dummy."

Von Ulrich's face reddened. "What's the man thinking?"

"How should I know, sir."

"You don't care?"

"No, why should I give a damn what he's thinking?"

"You tell me. Why shouldn't you?"

"Because it's none of my business."

Then there was another time, during some visit or other, when Von Ulrich pulled another word association test.

"Love."

"It makes the world go round."

"Blackness."

"Sleep."

"Alone."

"Quiet."

It went on for hours. Von Ulrich always seemed to be angrier because Barton didn't crack up, or because he insisted on turning in a perfect service record in the basketball.

"Barton, for God's sake, don't you realize how important this watch is? This valuable information gathered by these recorders. Think what it would mean if that data fell into the hands of the Asians! What if you missed an alarm, or fouled up in some way, and one of these recorders destroyed all the data?"

"Haven't I been alert all the time, sir?"

"Yes! But you've been out here now for three years! Three years. No one can possibly stand it longer than six months. And the fact that you've been here for three years only means some absolutely catastrophic crack-up is being prolonged, built up inside."

"I don't feel a bit different, sir."

"There are subtle ways of cracking up."

"You want me to have some sort of symptom or something?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

It must have been at least another year before Von Ulrich came back to Barton's basketball, triumphantly equipped with new devices, and waving a spacegram in Barton's sleepy face. Barton read it, shrugged, and let it drift to the floor. Von Ulrich tried to control a look almost of fear.

"As soon as the minimum time allowed, she married again," Von Ulrich said. "And you pretend it means nothing?"

"She never did mean much of anything, sir. I mean, she was an interfering kind of woman. She wouldn't let a man live."

"All right, Barton. What about this? She was committing adulterous acts with this fellow, this Major General Woods. She was having an affair with him for two years before you volunteered for duty in the basketball."

"I figured she was playing around."

"You what?"

"It figured."

"You still pretend it meant nothing, that it means nothing now?"

"I don't know what it means. What's it got to do with me now? It was all right, I guess. I could have gone on with it. But this is better."

He dimly remembered Jean bitching all the time of an evening because Barton kept forgetting to take his officer's exam, and how she had to skimp along on an NCO's lousy salary, and so on and so forth. Very much the nagging kind. She wouldn't let him read either. He would tell her he was just sort of stupid, and had always been a drifter anyway, and just sort of fell into marriage and that he never had had any ambition particularly, and anyway big brass got ulcers and heart conditions. And then she would drag little Joey, the big-headed little brat into it, and talk about how little Joey didn't have the right kind of idealized image to assure him a respectable future, and little Joey would stand there and nod his oversized head.

"What about little Joey's future?" Jean would say. "You want him to be just another stupid NCO? And what about his teeth? He's got to have his teeth straightened. They tease him at school, call him The Squirrel."

"Yeah, Dad. You want me to be personable and saleable and high on the success potential scale? What about my teeth protruding?"

And when Barton went into the bathroom and came back out, Jean was throwing all those books he'd had such a hard time finding into the incinerator. Barton volunteered the next day for basketball duty.

It didn't even seem long ago to Barton. It was oddly like a dream that might have been in the past, or the future, or never at all.

Von Ulrich grabbed up the spacegram and walked stiffly erect out of the basketball.

At some time in the future, Von Ulrich showed up again with even more complicated tests and questions. Barton wasn't sure, but it seemed longer than usual that Von Ulrich was away these days. Time didn't mean much. It didn't have any particular use to Barton now.

"Yes, yes, you have a perfect service record, Barton. Never have missed turning in an alarm with alacrity. And we're so damned short of men capable of taking this kind of duty that I can't pull you out of here until you make an error—or crack up. Just the same you're not fooling me much longer, and you won't be able to fool yourself either."

Sometime later there was the business about Barton's mother. Von Ulrich had files on Barton going clear back to pre-natal, and maybe even before that.

"All right, Barton, you were an only child, and you lived with your mother for 10 years after your father died. Then you married. What about the fact that Jean was a replacement for your mother?"

"If she was, it never seemed that way to me."

"You expected your wife to take care of you the way your mother did. And not demand anything of you. You expected to escape all responsibility and—Barton, do you consider this basketball to be your mother?"

"What's that, sir?"

"Deafness can be psychosomatic too, don't forget that. I said—but you heard me, answer me."

"Doctor Von Ulrich, maybe I'm not normal, but—"

"Then you admit the regression. That this basketball floating in space is a substitute for your mother's womb. You admit it!"

"Why, sir, I didn't—"

"But you know it's true don't you?"

"I didn't say anything about it. You said it."

"I said it because it's a summation of years of careful diagnosis. Look at the etiology. A man who never matured, never was able to accept responsibility as a mature adult. Always just drifting along, into one job, out of it, into another job, out of that, never establishing roots anywhere, always floating about. Unable to accept any responsibility for your marriage, wanting to escape it. Never able to get close, get involved with others, only wanting to receive, never give. What does it add up to? A fix, a freeze in the pre-natal stage where you were floating free and completely irresponsible in your mother's amniotic fluid. That's why you're here in the basketball."

Von Ulrich's intense eyes seemed to reach out like arms to enfold Barton, then recoiled as Barton shrugged and said: "So, it's like my Ma's womb. What difference does it make what you call it as long as I'm happy in it and do my job?"

Von Ulrich's lips moved soundlessly and then he pointed a finger into Barton's nose. "It makes a helluva lot of difference what you call it. You may be doing an efficient job here, but for the wrong reasons. I wish I could recommend, on the basis of my diagnosis, that you agree to a month's checkup in the Martian Clinic but—"

Barton interrupted. "I'm glad you can't. I wouldn't like that as much as this. Maybe your reports won't cut much ice as long as I keep up the perfect service record."

Von Ulrich's jaws were ridged. "Damn the military system! Damn a system that says a man has to stay up here till he's dead or crazy or makes a mistake!"

"But Doc, I like it. I'm happier here, I think. Maybe I wasn't normal on Earth. Maybe I'm not normal here, or maybe being abnormal on Earth makes me normal here. I'm happy and I do my work."

Von Ulrich backed away a few steps, then turned and ran out and slammed the sliding panel. He didn't say goodbye to Barton this time, or that he would be back. But Barton took no hope from Von Ulrich's lack of ceremony.

Von Ulrich did come back, several times. Barton was sleeping a great deal now. He didn't putter with the gimmicks much, not even the clay, and he'd about read the books out. He slept a lot and yet there was a funny heavy feeling as though he never did quite sleep or never quite woke up either. But it was a good feeling because when a man was too sound asleep he didn't enjoy it because he didn't know anything about it. This was sort of in-between, and Barton loved it. Sometimes he would blink his eyes and see Von Ulrich standing there, probably with some new testing device, or with a notebook open, or with a helmet with wires to attach to Barton's skull to record something.

Another time he thought some stranger was there and then he realized that Von Ulrich's face was sagging and wrinkled and that his hair was thinner and gray.

"Why not have groups of watchers if you're so worried about one being alone?"

"We tried that, it was worse, Barton. They killed one another."

"Well, sir, my being alone is a good thing then, in that respect."

"Have you ever thought that you would kill yourself?"

"Why no, sir. Why should I?"

"Because you hate yourself. In a society, people can externalize their self-hate. They can hate society, other people. You can only turn your hate inward, on yourself."

"But I don't hate anything, sir."

"You do!"

"But, sir, I don't."

"Barton, I said you hate yourself. It's in all the charts, everything. We all hate ourselves to some extent, why should you be different from everybody else?"

"Why not, sir?"

Von Ulrich pressed his hand over his eyes, and walked out.

It was like a dream with a shadow drifting in and out and in again, and it was Von Ulrich, looking so much older this time. "It's been almost fifteen years, Barton. Fifteen years."

"So? Fifteen years earth time. What does that mean here to me, sir?" Barton smiled, closed his eyes. "What does time matter in your mother's womb?"

"You've developed a definite measurable syndrome, Barton. Excessive lethargy and a sleeping compulsion. Eventually it will destroy your efficiency as a watcher if it hasn't already."

Von Ulrich set off an alarm and in less than four seconds Barton was over there sending a report out to the authorities, a report Von Ulrich immediately canceled as being false.

Von Ulrich seemed to dissolve in a haze of fading light.

"Is that you, Von Ulrich, sir?"

"I'm afraid so, Barton. Back again."

Von Ulrich sat down in the contour chair and filled a pipe.

"Remember, Barton when you took your test for basketball duty? The dead man's float?"

"I sort of remember it, sir. It was fun."

Von Ulrich flinched. "Fun? I've gone over that report on your test, Barton. It doesn't make sense. What the hell are you anyway? A damned freak, a mutation, an alien in disguise?"

The dead man's float had been pleasant for Barton, that was all he could remember about it. They had taken off all Barton's clothes so that nothing touched Barton's body but a blacked-out head-mask through which to get air. He had been put in a tank of water at body temperature upside down and floated there. There was no sensation. It had been one of the happiest times of his life. Like floating on air. Hearing nothing, seeing nothing, feeling nothing except his own existence. Not even able to tell which was right side up, or right side down, cross-wise or whatnot. He had been told to keep still, but nobody had needed to tell him to do that.

"The first two or three hours of that dead man's float is a good test for basketball duty, Barton. It's a kind of final isolation of the human organism. Normal human beings can take a couple of hours of it usually. They like it. Every human being to some extent likes to return to the womb. But after a couple of hours most human beings start going to pieces, short-circuiting. The reason is the deprivation of any outside stimuli. Something has to feed in through some source—some reception source—the skin, ears, nose, the eyes. These things feeding in, they orient a person, tells him when he's thinking, feeling, gives him stimuli for additional thinking. With all these turned off, a person is simply left with a closed circuit. This begins to go round and round and distorts and magnifies and ruptures the whole thinking process. The floater becomes anxious, then very anxious, then he begins having hallucinations, finally becomes completely disoriented. All this happens to a normal human being inside, at the most, three or four hours. No human being should be able to remain sane after four hours of the dead man's float, Barton. But remember how long you lay there in that tank?"

"I didn't care how long it was."

"Three days," Von Ulrich said. "The neurophysiologist in charge there kept checking your reaction and finally he had to take you out of the tank, not because you were short-circuiting, but because he was. The impression was that you would have been delighted with the prospect of doing the dead man's float forever."

"I don't remember it being any special time. It was like a dream, sir, you know."

"I don't know, but I'm trying to find out." Von Ulrich sighed and looked through the spaceport at blackness. "Out here I sometimes find myself wondering what normalcy really is. Things sometimes veer toward the dangerously relativistic." He sat there in the pure one hundred percent silence of the basketball while it accumulated. "There's one thing we've always insisted no human being could tolerate, Barton. Isolation. Sullivan said that a single minute of complete isolation would kill a human being. And you've been in a dead man's float for almost twenty-two years."

"Twenty-two years, sir?"

"Doesn't mean a thing to you does it?"

"Well, sir, it doesn't seem to have had any time in it. I was just here."

There was another time, like all the other times, except that Von Ulrich seemed much older, his hair thinner and now all of it gray. There seemed to be something tired about him, except for the brightness coming from behind his intense questioning eyes.

Suddenly he asked, "Barton, what time is it?"

Barton glanced at the chrono. "Quarter of four, sir."

"Keep looking."

After a while Barton said, "Still quarter of four."

"That chrono hasn't been working for three years. I stopped it three years ago. You haven't even noticed it, have you?"

"I guess not, sir."

"Take a long look out there, Barton. Nothing to see but blackness. No feeling of distance. Imagine your mind going out there, exploring, trying to fit in somewhere. You look out there, you project your thoughts out there, nothing comes back. So what time is it? Where are you in all this? There was nothing out here until you came along, not even any meaningful kind of time out here. But there has to be some feeling of time, Barton!"

Barton felt a tinge of uneasiness. He looked out. It looked cold.

"What time is it, Barton?"

"What difference does it make?"

"Your body has to know. Your body works on a timetable doesn't it? Your lungs, expanding, contracting regularly. Your heart beating so many times regularly—every minute. Your blood circulating regularly. Look here, Barton. You're a product of a specific environment, on a big scale, call it Earth, the Solar System. You claim it means nothing, time means nothing. But your heart beats regularly so many times every minute and that's why you're alive. Where did the arbitrary rhythm of that beat come from, Barton? You were born with it. It isn't anything you control, or had anything to do with developing, is it? What's a minute? On Earth, it has meaning. Sixty seconds part of a minute. Sixty minutes make up an hour. What's an hour but a segment of a 24 hour day. Where does that figure come from? The Earth, Barton. It rotates on its axis approximately every 24 hours. 24 hours make a day, seven days a week, so many weeks in a month, twelve months make up a year. A year, Barton, the Earth rotates around the sun once a year."

For the first time in the basketball, Barton began to feel some discomfort. He closed his eyes and while they were closed he became acutely aware of his heart beating, and the expanding and contracting of his lungs.

"You claim there is no Earth any more, Barton. No Earth rotating on its axis, no Earth rotating around the sun. No sun, no moon, no time. Why should your heart go on beating regularly so many times a minute—when there's nothing out here that gives a minute any meaning? Has time stopped here? Is there any time here, Barton, when there's nothing here to turn time into measurable segments? How can your heart beat so many times a minute, a year, a lifetime if there's no such thing here any more?"

Barton slowly opened his eyes. His hands felt wet.

"This basketball doesn't rotate, Barton. Doesn't move toward, away from, or around anything. It's moving with the Galaxy but that can't mean anything to you can it? Listen, Barton, your body operates largely on an unconscious level, but what if unconsciously your heart, your lungs, your bodily functions start to lose their conditioned memory of the Earth's rotation, the regularity of its movement on its axis and around the Sun that gave your birth? What will happen then, Barton? What happens to your heart-beat if your heart begins to forget how long a minute is?"

Von Ulrich leaned down close to Barton's damp face.

"What time is it, Barton?"

Barton started to look out the spaceport again, but jerked his head in the other direction. He didn't want to look out. Von Ulrich waited, but Barton didn't say anything. Finally, with a tight smile on his face, Von Ulrich got up and went to the door.

"I'll see you again, Barton. Some time."

Barton started. "Wait—don't go," he started to say. But something constricted in his throat and he hardly even moved his lips, and no sound came out at all.

He saw the cold streak flash past the view port. It was Von Ulrich's clinic. Quickly he looked toward the wall. The chrono was gone. Von Ulrich had taken it with him. There was a watch, a wrist watch. Barton ran around looking for the wrist watch, but he couldn't find it.

When he lay down again and closed his eyes, he couldn't rest. He couldn't sleep. His heart beat got louder, and after a while that was all he could hear, and when he tried to figure out how many times a minute his heart was, or was not, beating, he couldn't.

What time was it?

The war in which all of Earth's outposts were involved, lasted thirty years. The basketballs were forgotten for a long time, and when they were remembered again, a special search was rewarded by finding only two of them. In the first basketball there was no trace of the watchman who had been abandoned in it almost half a century before, and no indication of what had happened to him.

In the second one, Von Ulrich found Barton still lying peacefully on the couch, looking hardly any different than when Von Ulrich had walked out and left him there.

Von Ulrich, who had been retired for a long time and who was unable to get about except in a wheel-chair, had requested inclusion among the search boat's personnel. No one had figured out why because even if they found any basketballs, it was certain that no one would be alive on any of them, let alone anyone needing Von Ulrich's specialized talents.

Von Ulrich had hoped that Barton's basketball would be found and when it was found, he insisted on being carried through the interconnecting airlock into the spheroid that looked on the outside like a dead piece of slag.

The ship's medical officer, a man young and rather stiff, was shocked at first to see Barton lying there, but he had a ready explanation as he used his stethescope. "Must have sprung a leak and let in preserving frigidity."

"But then how did the leak repair itself and the temperature return to normal?" Von Ulrich asked as he studied Barton's smooth, unaged face.

"Dead," the medical officer said, and he dropped the stethescope back into his case.

Von Ulrich gripped the husks of his hands together to keep them from rattling, and he smiled slowly. "Barton didn't like death much."

Zeiger the medical officer looked puzzled. "You know this man?"

"A little. I tried to know him better but a war intervened. His name is Harry Barton and he was assigned to duty in this basketball fifty-three years and about four months ago."

Zeiger turned away as though to hide an embarrassed reaction.

"You think I speak out of some mental senility, Zeiger? You know this man isn't dead."

"He has to be dead."

"Not Barton. He would hardly approve of your diagnosis. He never cared much for diagnosis anyway. This is Harry Barton, and I've preserved—for personal reasons—his file. I have it with me. You want to check his fingerprints? You'll find it's the same man who was assigned to duty here fifty-three years ago."

"There's no heart-beat," Zeiger insisted, but not very enthusiastically.

"Better give Barton a more thorough check," Von Ulrich said.

Barton's heart was beating all right. Once every thirty-seven hours and fourteen seconds. Regularly, strongly, very slowly, but without a tremor. The electroencephalograph registered brain waves of regular rhythm, but of quite low amplitude. But with a frequency slowed to a point so far below normalcy that it took a week to establish recognizable delta, theta, alpha and higher frequency wave-forms. Using the electronic stroboscope to induce changes in brain-wave reaction by flicker got results. But the frequency didn't change. When they forced Barton's eyes open and used the stroboscope, a slight change in theta rhythm signified some irritation, but it was mild.

"Barton never hated anybody," Von Ulrich said.

It was slow work though, testing Barton's reactions. It was five days after the stroboscopic stimulation before the termination of the brain reactive crescendo. Another week before theta rhythm returned to normal.

"... so I finally decided," Von Ulrich told Zeiger, "that Barton was unique—he was the impossible. The absolutely self-sufficient human being, needing nothing but himself. I was getting older and I figured there was a chance I might not get back and the war threat and so forth. I was worried about leaving Barton. But only for one reason."

Von Ulrich explained his concern about what might have happened if Barton's autonomic nervous system had lost its identification with the time factor that had conditioned it.

"I figured Barton was absolutely self-sufficient, except for the time factor. He had to have something outside himself relatively to which his organs could function in a necessary regularity."

Zeiger poured himself another shot of rum and drank it quickly.

"So he's still here," Zeiger said. "We'll have to take him to the Martian Base for observation."

"Why not leave him here? Barton has a perfect service record. He's never missed an alarm."

"But in this condition—"

"Let's see." Von Ulrich set off an alarm. Barton moved, but it took him almost a week to move a few inches.

"That's too slow," Zeiger insisted.

Von Ulrich said, "I'll turn in a complete report on Barton. If the authorities want to have him removed, all right. But maybe they won't. Maybe they'll decide they have a laboratory here for the study of a human being that's more important than whatever's being absorbed by those recorders. Barton is the thing to watch. I call him the 'Adaptable,' because I believe he can adapt to anything, fit himself into any situation, any kind of environmental circumstance, if he's not interfered with too much, if he's given even a slight chance. You see he altered his metabolism in order to relate to a different, highly personalized time. And he hasn't aged much either. God knows how long he will live, Zeiger, with such a slowed metabolism. And not only that—who knows what unique kind of personalized time he's developing there inside himself? Who knows if we can even make a human comparison?"

"But how did he set this new arbitrary time of his? The heart beating every thirty-seven hours and fourteen seconds?"

Von Ulrich looked through the spaceport, and then pointed when the pressure suit drifted past with the long-dead Collins perfectly preserved in it and still looking out through the face plate.

"That way," Von Ulrich said. "Collins is our little human satellite out there, and he rotates around the basketball once every thirty-seven hours and fourteen seconds."

"Well I'll be damned," Zeiger said.

"Of our time, that is," Von Ulrich said. "But our time doesn't mean anything to Barton now."

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLOATER ***

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 41 Watchung Plaza #516, Montclair NJ 07042, USA, +1 (862) 621-9288. 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

- THE FLOATER

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE