"To Invade New York...."
Date: 2010-01-04T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science fiction; Short stories; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction

The Project Gutenberg eBook of "To Invade New York...."

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: "To Invade New York...."

Author: Irwin Lewis

Illustrator: Leo Summers

Release date: January 4, 2010 [eBook #30844]
Most recently updated: January 5, 2021

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK "TO INVADE NEW YORK...." ***

"TO
INVADE
NEW YORK...."

It would be foolish to do a thing a hard way, when there is such an easy way. In a technically dependent culture, people become quite helpless, really....

BY IRWIN LEWIS

ILLUSTRATED BY LEO SUMMERS

He was a tall, learned-looking man, about fifty, slightly stooped, with a bulging midriff, tortoise-shell glasses, graying hair, and a strange look in his eyes. I'd noticed him standing outside Shannon's Bar for about ten minutes, pacing back and forth. Then he came in and sat down next to me. It was late afternoon, before the rush hour, and we were the only customers in the place.

Jimmy, the bartender, put down the towel with which he'd been idly wiping glasses, and came over. "What'll it be?"

The stranger jumped nervously and looked blank for a moment. "Uh ... er ... a glass of beer, please. Root beer."

Jimmy snorted. "Try the candy store down the block."

"Oh," said the stranger, obviously upset. "Then let me have a glass of regular beer—mild, please."

I smiled at Jimmy as he filled a glass. All sorts came into Shannon's. Outside, the traffic on Third Avenue was only a faint hum.

The stranger licked the foam tentatively and wrinkled his nose in distaste. He put the glass back on the bar and shook his head.

"Pro superi! quantum mortalia pectora caecae, Noctis habent."

"Huh?" said Jimmy.

The stranger smiled briefly. "That is Latin. It means, Oh, ye gods, what darkness of night there is in mortal minds."

Jimmy shrugged and went back to wiping glasses. The stranger nodded to me. "Ovid said that. He was a wise man."

"Friend of yours?" I asked, just to be polite.

"He died nearly two thousand years ago." He tasted the beer again and pushed it away. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am Horace Howard Clarke, associate professor of Roman History at one of the universities in the city."

I introduced myself and we shook hands. "Tell me," he said, "do you believe New York can be conquered?"

One of those kind, I thought. And here I was with an hour to kill before meeting my date. "Lots of people have taken it in," I started.

"I don't mean that kind. I mean physically invaded."

"Pretty big job, I'd think."

"Very simple." He dropped a small metal disk on the bar. "This could do it—or at least help."

I picked up the metal disk. "Why, it's a subway token."

"Almost a subway token," he said. "And therein lies the key to conquest. That—and the green lights." I edged away from him. This I didn't need! He leaned towards me. "If only I could convince someone," he said, his lips tight. "Perhaps you will believe me."

I got to my feet. "Sorry. But I've got a date."

"Please!" The voice was firm, all of a sudden. "It is vital!" I hesitated and Jimmy came over, in case there was trouble.

"Well," I said, deciding to humor him, "if it won't take long."

"Brevis esse laboro, obscurus fio."

"Oh?"

"If I labor to be brief, I become obscure."

I sighed. A long-winded one. And in Latin, yet!

He motioned to Jimmy. "Let this gentleman have another drink, bartender." He moved closer to me. "I will tell you what I know," he said. "If you believe, perhaps you will be able to do something about it. This much is certain. Very little time remains before disaster strikes!"

It all began (he said) prosaically enough on the Tuesday of last week, on the third floor of the Public Library at 42nd Street, in Room 315. There, as you probably know, one may obtain books on most subjects by filling out a slip, receiving an odd or even number, and retiring to either the odd or even Reading Room, where your number will eventually flash on a lighted board. At the time I was engrossed in a study of the early life of Publilius Syrus and, I must admit, glanced only casually at the card given me by the young man at the desk. I saw that it was 18 and proceeded into the Even room on the right for what I knew from past experience would be a tedious wait.

Ah! Had I but paid more attention to the card handed me! But "Ad poenitendum properat, cito qui judicat." "He makes speed to repentance who judges hastily." The card which I thought was numbered 18, was actually 81. I had inadvertently glanced at it upside down. Had the Roman numeral system been used, as I have long advocated, this unfortunate accident could not have occurred: a XVIII cannot be mistaken for LXXXI no matter which way it is turned!

Be that as it may, number 18 flashed on the board in a surprisingly short time and I hastened to obtain the book from the extremely harried young lady behind the counter. I returned to my chair at one of the long reading tables. When I opened the book, which was of a disturbing blue color, I was highly irritated to learn that this was not a biography of Publilius Syrus; furthermore it was not even in Latin. I removed my glasses to make certain (someday I shall simply have to get bifocals) and saw that it was a foreign cookbook.

Annoyed, I snatched the book from the table and started to return to the counter. As I did so, a green slip of paper fluttered from between the pages. I glanced at it idly. There was an address on it, scrawled in almost illegible block letters. "432 West 28th Street." Being of a tidy nature, I slipped the bit of paper into my pocket and turned, only to find my way blocked by a rather large man wearing a trench coat with upturned collar. He tapped the book significantly and whispered, "Eight-thirty tonight. You know the place."

With that he strode rapidly from the room, giving me no chance to ask him what he was talking about. Irritated, I returned to the counter where a smallish man, wearing a loud-checked suit was arguing with the young lady. He was holding a number card.

"But I tell you," said the harassed young lady, "number 18 was flashed on the board and the book was picked up."

The little man clucked impatiently and waved the card. "But I have number 18," he said shrilly, "and I must have the book!"

Normally I am not a fast thinker. Years of teaching Roman history to classes of dozing students, interested only in easy credits, are not reckoned to sharpen one's wits. However, I instantly realized what must have happened. I tapped the little man on the shoulder.

"Pardon me, sir," I whispered, "is this your book?" He whirled around violently. He had a thin, sharp-pointed face with deep-set eyes, heavy brow and a receding chin that terminated in a little scrub of a beard. Rudely he snatched the book from my hand and began leafing through it with shaking fingers.

I started to say, "If Roman numerals had been used instead of—" but saw he was paying no attention to me, so I headed for the Main Room to get another card. I had no sooner reached the entrance when I was confronted by the little bearded man again. His mouth was agape with distress, his loud-checked bowtie askew. He waved the book in my face. "Didn't you find anything in here?" he demanded.

"Not really," I said. "I have no interest in French cooking."

He shook his head vigorously. "I mean inside the book!"

"Quiet, please," said the guard at the entrance, holding his finger to his lips disapprovingly. I continued into the Main Room, the little man scurrying alongside me.

"Please," he pleaded, "think. Wasn't there something in the book?"

Irked at his persistence, I was about to move on, when I remembered. "Why, yes," I said, slowly. "There was something. This." I fished the bit of green paper from my pocket. He snatched it from me, uttered a squeak of delight, and hurried away.

Relieved that this untidy business was finally done with, I decided to forego Publilius Syrus for the day, since I was no longer in the mood and I had some important papers to edit. So I returned to my home, a rather large and comfortable room on the first floor of a converted brownstone in lower Manhattan. I had no sooner settled down at my desk when there came an urgent knock on my door. I slipped on my glasses and opened the door. Imagine my amazement and irritation when the little man from the library scuttled into the room. He hurried to the window and pulled down the blind. Then he firmly removed my hand from the doorknob, closed the door and locked it. He leaned against the door, facing me.

"There is no 432 West 28th Street," he announced, angrily.

"The information does not impress me," I said. "How did you find out where I live? And why?"

"I asked several of the librarians if they knew you. It seems they did. And since you are listed in the telephone book, the rest was simple." He held up the green slip of paper. "Was this ALL you found?"

Well, I thought, childishly pleased, at least I am not one of the innumerable nameless faces that pour in and out of the library daily. "What else was there supposed to be?" I asked pleasantly.

The little man sank into my favorite leather chair, almost disappearing from view. He waved the slip of paper aimlessly. "There must be more to it than this."

Despite his rudeness I found myself taking a liking to him. He was so intense and so—frightened. "There was a man," I said.

He leaped to his feet and clutched my coat. I believe he would have tried to shake me had I not been a foot taller and fully fifty pounds heavier than he. "What man!"

"In the library. He indicated that book and said something to me."

He leaped onto the chair in his excitement and grasped my shoulders with his hands. We stood thus eye to eye. "Please!" he begged. "Try to remember! What did he say?"

"Perhaps you had better tell me what this is all about, Mr...?"

"Rumplestein. However, believe me, Professor Clarke, it is much better if you do not know."

I shook my head, displaying what my colleagues occasionally call a streak of stubbornness. "You have upset me considerably. I feel I am due some explanation."

"No! No! No!" He shook his little head vigorously each time.

"Then I cannot recollect what this man said to me."

He groaned in dismay and stepped off the chair to the floor. "Very well," he said, finally. "You force me to reveal this." I waited patiently. His head snapped erect. His body stiffened. "I am engaged in a highly secret mission, the purpose of which is to prevent the collapse of this city."

I frowned. "You're not serious, of course."

"I have never been more serious in my life!"

"Quem Jupiter vult perdere, dementat prius."

"What?"

"Whom Jupiter wishes to ruin, he first drives mad," I said.

"You think I'm crazy?"

I didn't like the gleam in his eye and the tightly pressed lips. I hastily decided I was better off with him gone. These little people, I am told, can sometimes get extremely violent.

"I most certainly do," I said, "but that is none of my affair. I will tell you what that man said and then I would appreciate your popping out of my life as you so unceremoniously popped into it."

"What did he say?" He leaned forward waiting, it would seem, as if the fate of the world hung in the balance.

"Eight-thirty tonight. You know the place."

The little man studied the paper, repeating the words. Then he emitted a shriek of ecstasy. "That's it! Now the message is clear! Thank you, Professor Clarke. You have performed a duty towards society and your city." He fled down the hall. I heard the front door slam and returned to my work with a sigh of relief.

About eleven o'clock the same evening, weary in body and mind, I was preparing for bed when there came what I can only describe as a feeble but urgent rapping on my door. The strange events of the afternoon completely forgotten, I opened the door. There, in the dim light of the hall, considerably the worse for wear, stood my little visitor of the afternoon. He was bare-headed, his dark curly locks plastered to his forehead with perspiration. His bowtie was missing and his checkered suit was covered with splotches of mud and some darker substance, especially around the left arm which he gingerly supported with his right hand.

"Mr. Rumplestein!"

He shook his head weakly and staggered into the room. "Not Rumplestein," he said, so low I could hardly hear him. "Tonight it's O'Grady." He collapsed on my leather chair, mumbling, "The door."

I bolted the door and hurried over to him. "What happened to your arm?"

"Never mind that now," he said stoically.

Despite his protests I carefully removed his jacket and cut away the sleeve of his shirt. There was an ugly wound on his arm. "How did this happen?" I asked, horrified.

"It's nothing," he said. Then he grinned momentarily. "The chap who caused it is feeling no pain at all!" He closed his eyes and his head began to sway. "If you have any liquor," he mumbled, "I feel faint, suddenly—"

I rummaged through my desk and found a tiny bottle of some cordial a colleague had once brought me as a jest, knowing I do not drink. While Mr. Rumplestein, or O'Grady, gulped down the liquid I inspected the wound. "A doctor should look at that," I said.

He shook his head and leaned back in the chair, the top of his head a good twelve inches below the top of the chair.

"I feel better now," he sighed.

"Then perhaps you will be good enough to tell me what this is all about." As I spoke I washed and dressed his wound as best I could. "You realize, my good fellow, for all I know you may be wanted by the police, in which case I could be arrested for harboring a criminal."

"I assure you, Professor Clarke, I am no criminal." He plucked a bit of mud from his beard and carefully deposited it on the table.

"But you've been wounded! And you infer you did some bodily harm to someone else."

He chuckled softly. "Bodily harm? I killed him!"

I recoiled in fright. "I must notify the police!"

"No! That would ruin everything! New York would be destroyed!!"

I clucked impatiently. "Please, Mr. Rumplestein, or O'Grady, or whatever your name is. If you cannot give me an honest answer, I shall be forced to call the authorities. This nonsense about—"

He held up his hand and emitted a huge sigh. "Very well," he said, "I will tell you what this is all about because my usefulness may come to an end abruptly and you may have to carry on. Listen carefully." I waited with mounting impatience.

"New York," he said after a brief pause, "is a huge, sprawling metropolis that breeds within itself the seeds of its own destruction. Transportation." I raised an eyebrow. "At best," he went on, "the traffic in Manhattan does not flow—it limps. Let one traffic light fail and vehicles are backed up for several blocks. True?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Very well. Imagine, then, a situation where, at one given instant every single traffic light on this congested island turns green and STAYS green." I shuddered at the thought. "Picture the beauty of it," he said. "Not red, which would cause all automobiles to stop, but green, the signal to go! Imagine their mad desire to rush forward in righteous obedience to the law, and their awful frustration to find every other automobile and truck obeying the same law, regardless of the direction from which it is coming. It has been estimated by noted mathematicians who are involved in this plan, that within forty-five seconds all traffic in Manhattan would come to a standstill, it becoming impossible for a car to move forward or backward. Oh, what utter chaos!"

"Ab homine homini periculum quotidianum," I said.

"Eh?"

"Man is daily in danger from man. An ancient Roman said that."

"He knew what he was talking about. But this is only Phase One of the plan. A corollary is based upon the axiom that one disabled automobile is equal to ten thousand operating ones."

"I don't follow."

"The highways leading into and out of this island. Regardless of the number of lanes, if one automobile breaks down, traffic is immobilized for miles. Multiply that by several dozen, all at the same time, on all the entrances and exits to the island, and no earthly power could untangle that situation in less than a week, if then!"

His words evoked an image of metal monsters, stretched as far as the eye could see, steam pouring from their overheated radiators as they raucously bleated for help.

"All this can be accomplished quite simply and inexpensively," continued my bearded little man. "However, what of subsurface transportation?"

"You mean the subway system?"

"Exactly. Once again, simplicity is the key. What do subway riders use to gain entrance through the turnstiles? Tokens. Let us suppose that on this same given day the majority of tokens distributed are all fractionally larger than normal. Not enough to be noticed, mind you, but just enough so they cannot pass through the slots and activate the mechanism."

"But—"

"Do you realize the absolute ingenuity of this plan? Subway riders by the thousands will be trying to put tokens that they paid for into slots that will not receive them! The tremendous howl of anguish that will arise! The roar of frustration and then anger as the thousands pile upon the thousands at rush hour! The screaming and pushing as multitudes press forward at each subway station, demanding their rights of ingress as good citizens, while more multitudes press from the incoming trains demanding their rights of egress! Unquestionably the entire subway system will collapse in a matter of minutes! What was it you said before?"

"Ab homine homini periculum quotidianum?"

"And how!" He lit a cigar and puffed away for a few moments, filling my room with its foul odor. "Ingenious, eh?" he said finally.

"But to what end?" I asked. "If anarchy rules the city, how could whoever is behind this plan assume control?"

He leaned back in the chair, disappearing from view. "That is not part of the scheme. The purpose is to arouse the rest of the country to what has happened to its greatest metropolis. Every eye, ear, radio and television station will be turned towards Manhattan. The armed forces, all the resources of the government will, within hours, pour into the city, or try to. And at precisely that moment the rest of the country will be childishly open to invasion! If this plan succeeds, professor, the United States will be conquered within a matter of days, with remarkably little destruction or loss of life."

I stared at the little figure in the chair. Was he serious? More important—was he sane? "Who is planning this invasion?"

"Who else?"

"Why tell me this story? Why not go to the authorities?"

"I need sufficient proof, first. Unfortunately, matters are coming to a head far sooner than I expected. In addition, my disposing of one of their men earlier," he tapped his left arm significantly, "has left me in a vulnerable position. I dare not go to the authorities myself, for fear of exposing myself. And believe me"—he snapped his fingers—"I would not get as far as the nearest policeman. However, professor, you are unsuspected. You could report this plan with no danger to yourself."

"Enough! My dear Mr. Rumplestein-O'Grady, do you expect me to charge into a police station and blurt out this ridiculous story?"

"I don't expect you to charge anywhere, professor. Not without proof. I will get the proof for you, by tomorrow. Then—as I suspect—if I am unable to warn the authorities, I will expect you to do so. In the meantime, make use of these when you go to the university, tomorrow. I found them on the body of the man I disposed of."

He dropped several tinkly objects on my desk, rose, and, without another word, was gone. I picked up the items. They were subway tokens. I hurried to the window and glanced out. I could see the little man hurrying down the street, his head bobbing up and down like a swimmer in the ocean. Then, my mind in a turmoil, I turned out the light and went to bed. Fortunately, regardless of the press of circumstances, I have never had difficulty in falling asleep and tonight was no exception.

At seven-thirty the next morning I arose, dressed, and prepared my breakfast. I thought of the events of the preceding evening. Had it not been for the bloodied towel with which I had washed the little man's wounds, I might have dismissed the entire incident as a dream. I continued to think about it while walking to the subway. I berated myself for taking the story seriously even for a moment, as I dropped a token into the turnstile and pressed forward. I gasped in sudden pain as the turnstile, still locked, pushed into my midriff. I glanced at the token in the slot. It had not dropped. I pressed it down. It refused to budge. I tried several other tokens, all with the same result. By this time half a dozen people had gathered behind me, making angry remarks. Flustered, I backed away, bought a token from the cashier, and rode to the University. Then it was I recalled that I had tried to use the tokens my strange visitor had placed on my desk before parting from me, and which I had, without thinking, picked up in the morning.

All that day I pondered over the tokens and the odd tale of Mr. Rumplestein-O'Grady. I could still give it no credence, but I was disturbed. On my way home, that evening, as is my wont, I bought a newspaper and began reading it casually. Just before reaching my station, I came across a small item on one of the inside pages. It stated that a small, bearded man, wearing a checkered suit, had been found in the river that morning, stabbed. There were no identification papers on him, only a pocket full of subway tokens which, police believed, had been used to weight down the body.

"Good heavens!" I said aloud. Several passengers raised their eyebrows. I flushed, hurried out of the train and to my apartment where I fell into my chair, shocked and shaking. No doubt the body was that of Rumplestein. The poor little man! What did this mean? Could his story conceivably have been true?

The knock on my door startled me. "Professor, are you home?" It was my landlady. When I opened the door she handed me an envelope with my name written on it in small, neat letters. "A little fellow with a beard gave it to me early this morning, after you'd gone. He said to be sure you got it. Then he ran away." She shook her head in obvious disapproval of such actions.

After she left I tore open the envelope and read the contents.

"By the time you see this chances are excellent that I shall be dead. However, that is of little importance. I have found the proof we need—their distribution plant. It's an old warehouse. I am going there to see if I cannot obtain concrete proof—perhaps a pocketful of tokens. If I fail, you must carry on. Farewell, professor. It was a privilege knowing you."

Beneath the message was an address which I recognized as being in one of the less reputable sections of the city. There was no signature.

What to do! What to do! I no longer doubted the truth of little Mr. Rumplestein-O'Grady's story. But what to do about it? I considered going to the warehouse, but the thought of high adventure sends nothing but ennui coursing through my veins. Besides, there was undoubtedly some element of danger in that course. The police! Naturally! They would know how to deal with this situation and perhaps even avenge poor Mr. Rumplestein's death. Filled with righteous anger and indignation I hurried out and went to the nearest police station.

In retrospect I can understand the reaction of the desk sergeant to my wild-eyed claim that the city was in imminent danger of invasion and he must do something about it at once!

"How much, now, have ye had to drink?" he asked calmly.

When I swore that I was as sober as he, he grew purple with rage and threatened to have me thrown into jail for insulting a police officer unless I disappeared immediately.

All that night and the next day I tried to reach someone in authority with my information. The New York City police were admirably calm about my information. My actions and voice, however, seemed to disturb them greatly. When I insisted they investigate the warehouse, they told me the officer on the beat would do so in good time. When I suggested they examine the tokens found on the body they informed me that these had been turned over to the Property Clerk and if not claimed within ninety days would be given to the PAL.

As a last desperate measure I went to the New York office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and presented myself to one of the Federal men. I told him my story. He looked at me calmly, then pored through a thick book on his desk. He closed one eye thoughtfully and peered at me through the other.

"There's really nothing," he said, "that we can do about it."

"Don't you believe me?"

"That has nothing to do with it. According to regulations this is strictly a municipal affair. It doesn't come within the jurisdiction of the FBI. And we wouldn't want to step on municipal toes." He closed the book smartly.

I was crushed. I couldn't believe it. Finally I said, "Serum est cavendi tempus in mediis malis!"

"What?"

"'It is too late to be cautious when in the very midst of dangers.' Seneca said that two thousand years ago."

The young man rose and nodded towards the door. "Good day, professor. And an E pluribus unum to you!"

That was an hour ago.

Professor Clarke stopped talking. Jimmy and I said nothing. The only sound was the hum of traffic outside. "And that is the way it is, gentlemen," said Professor Clarke, finally. "Quando cadet Roma, cadet et mundus. When Rome falls—the world!" He sipped the beer which by now had gone flat. "Do you believe me?"

Jimmy and I exchanged glances. "Have another beer," said Jimmy. "On the house."

"I see." Professor Clarke sighed. "Well, I cannot really blame you, gentlemen. I only hope you do not live to regret it." He got up and put a coin on the bar. Jimmy went to make change.

Then we became aware of automobile horns blasting steadily on a rising note of urgency. Jimmy and I ran outside. Traffic was piling up rapidly in the street. And as far as we could see in every direction, all the traffic lights had turned green!

"Holy cow!" said Jimmy. "He was telling the truth!"

"So it appears," said a voice at my elbow. I turned. It was the professor. There was a sad, wistful expression on his face. "Quod erat demonstrandum," he said softly. "Q.E.D." Then, as the horns got louder, and we could hear drivers cursing, he strode down the street and around the corner.

"Professor!" I yelled. "Wait!" I started to run after him when the horns stopped blowing. Cars started moving again, and many of the traffic lights had turned red.

Jimmy wiped his face in obvious relief. "Must have been a short circuit," he said hoarsely. "But for a minute—"

"Yes," I said. "A short circuit. Or maybe—a dry run to test facilities for the big day?"

Neither one of us said anything, but we both had the same thought as we returned to the bar. I picked up the subway token the professor had left there. I flipped it in the air several times and looked at Jimmy. He nodded in agreement. I went out and headed for the nearest subway.

Q.E.D.?

Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction August 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK "TO INVADE NEW YORK...." ***

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

- "TO INVADE NEW YORK...."

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE