The Project Gutenberg EBook of Manners of the Age, by Horace Brown Fyfe
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Manners of the Age
Author: Horace Brown Fyfe
Illustrator: Marchetti
Release Date: June 10, 2010 [EBook #32764]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MANNERS OF THE AGE ***
Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction March 1952.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed.
Manners of the Age
By H. B. FYFE
Illustrated by MARCHETTI
With everyone gone elsewhere, Earth was perfect for gracious
living--only there was nothing gracious about it!
* * * * *
The red tennis robot scooted desperately across the court, its four
wide-set wheels squealing. For a moment, Robert's hard-hit passing
shot seemed to have scored. Then, at the last instant, the robot
whipped around its single racket-equipped arm. Robert sprawled
headlong in a futile lunge at the return.
"Game and set to Red Three," announced the referee box from its high
station above the net.
"Ah, shut up!" growled Robert, and flung down his racket for one of
the white serving robots to retrieve.
"Yes, Robert," agreed the voice. "Will Robert continue to play?"
Interpreting the man's savage mumble as a negative, it told his
opponent, "Return to your stall, Red Three!"
Robert strode off wordlessly toward the house. Reaching the
hundred-foot-square swimming pool, he hesitated uncertainly.
"Weather's so damned hot," he muttered. "Why didn't the old-time
scientists find out how to do something about that while there were
still enough people on Earth to manage it?"
[Illustration]
He stripped off his damp clothing and dropped it on the "beach" of
white sand. Behind him sounded the steps of a humanoid serving robot,
hastening to pick it up. Robert plunged deep into the cooling water
and let himself float lazily to the surface.
_Maybe they did, he thought. I could send a robot over to the old city
library for information. Still, actually doing anything would probably
take the resources of a good many persons--and it isn't so easy to
find people now that Earth is practically deserted._
He rolled sideward for a breath and began to swim slowly for the
opposite side of the pool, reflecting upon the curious culture of the
planet. Although he had accepted this all his life, it really was
remarkable how the original home of the human race had been forsaken
for fresher worlds among the stars. Or was it more remarkable that a
few individuals had asserted their independence by remaining?
Robert was aware that the decision involved few difficulties,
considering the wealth of robots and other automatic machines. He
regretted knowing so few humans, though they were really not
necessary. If not for his hobby of televising, he would probably not
know any at all.
"Wonder how far past the old city I'd have to go to meet someone in
person," he murmured as he pulled himself from the pool. "Maybe I
ought to try accepting that televised invitation of the other night."
* * * * *
Several dark usuform robots were smoothing the sand on this beach
under the direction of a blue humanoid supervisor. Watching them idly,
Robert estimated that it must be ten years since he had seen another
human face to face. His parents were dim memories. He got along very
well, however, with robots to serve him or to obtain occasional
information from the automatic scanners of the city library that had
long ago been equipped to serve such a purpose.
"Much better than things were in the old days," he told himself as he
crossed the lawn to his sprawling white mansion. "Must have been awful
before the population declined. Imagine having people all around you,
having to listen to them, see them, and argue to make them do what you
wanted!"
The heel of his bare right foot came down heavily on a pebble, and he
swore without awareness of the precise meaning of the ancient phrases.
He limped into the baths and beckoned a waiting robot as he stretched
out on a rubbing table.
"Call Blue One!" he ordered.
The red robot pushed a button on the wall before beginning the
massage. In a few moments, the major-domo arrived.
"Did Robert enjoy the tennis?" it inquired politely.
"I did _not_!" snapped the man. "Red Three won--and by too big a
score. Have it geared down a few feet per second."
"Yes, Robert."
"And have the lawn screened again for pebbles!"
As Blue One retired he relaxed, and turned his mind to ideas for
filling the evening. He hoped Henry would televise: Robert had news
for him.
After a short nap and dinner, he took the elevator to his three-story
tower and turned on the television robot. Seating himself in a
comfortable armchair, he directed the machine from one channel to
another. For some time, there was no answer to his perfunctory call
signals, but one of his few acquaintances finally came on.
"Jack here," said a quiet voice that Robert had long suspected of
being disguised by a filter microphone.
"I haven't heard you for some weeks," he remarked, eying the swirling
colors on the screen.
He disliked Jack for never showing his face, but curiosity as to what
lay behind the mechanical image projected by the other's transmitter
preserved the acquaintance.
"I was ... busy," said the bodiless voice, with a discreet hint of a
chuckle that Robert found chilling.
He wondered what Jack had been up to. He remembered once being favored
with a televised view of Jack's favorite sport--a battle between
companies of robots designed for the purpose, horribly reminiscent of
human conflicts Robert had seen on historical films.
* * * * *
He soon made an excuse to break off and set the robot to scanning
Henry's channel. He had something to tell the older man, who lived
only about a hundred miles away and was as close to being his friend
as was possible in this age of scattered, self-sufficient dwellings.
"I don't mind talking to _him_," Robert reflected. "At least he
doesn't overdo this business of individual privacy."
He thought briefly of the disdainful face--seemingly on a distant
station--which had merely examined him for several minutes one night
without ever condescending to speak. Recalling his rage at this
treatment, Robert wondered how the ancients had managed to get along
together when there were so many of them. They must have had some
strict code of behavior, he supposed, or they never would have bred
so enormous a population.
"I must find out about that someday," he decided. "How did you act,
for instance, if you wanted to play tennis but someone else just
refused and went to eat dinner? Maybe that was why the ancients had so
many murders."
He noticed that the robot was getting an answer from Henry's station,
and was pleased. He could talk as long as he liked, knowing Henry
would not resent his cutting off any time he became bored with the
conversation.
* * * * *
The robot focused the image smoothly. Henry gave the impression of
being a small man. He was gray and wrinkled compared with Robert, but
his black eyes were alertly sharp. He smiled his greeting and
immediately launched into a story of one of his youthful trips through
the mountains, from the point at which it had been interrupted the
last time they had talked.
Robert listened impatiently.
"Maybe I have some interesting news," he remarked as the other
finished. "I picked up a new station the other night."
"That reminds me of a time when I was a boy and--"
Robert fidgeted while Henry described watching his father build a
spare television set as a hobby, with only a minimum of robot help. He
pounced upon the first pause.
"A new station!" he repeated. "Came in very well, too. I can't imagine
why I never picked it up before."
"Distant, perhaps?" asked Henry resignedly.
"No, not very far from me, as a matter of fact."
"You can't always tell, especially with the ocean so close. Now that
there are so few people, you'd think there'd be land enough for all of
them; but a good many spend all their lives aboard ship-robots."
"Not this one," said Robert. "She even showed me an outside view of
her home."
Henry's eyebrows rose. "She? A woman?"
"Her name is Marcia-Joan."
"Well, well," said Henry. "Imagine that. Women, as I recall, usually
do have funny names."
He gazed thoughtfully at his well-kept hands.
"Did I ever tell you about the last woman I knew?" he asked. "About
twenty years ago. We had a son, you know, but he grew up and wanted
his own home and robots."
"Natural enough," Robert commented, somewhat briefly since Henry _had_
told him the story before.
"I often wonder what became of him," mused the older man. "That's the
trouble with what's left of Earth culture--no families any more."
_Now he'll tell about the time he lived in a crowd of five, thought
Robert. He, his wife, their boy and the visiting couple with the fleet
of robot helicopters._
Deciding that Henry could reminisce just as well without a listener,
Robert quietly ordered the robot to turn itself off.
_Maybe I will make the trip_, he pondered, on the way downstairs, _if
only to see what it's like with another person about_.
At about noon of the second day after that, he remembered that thought
with regret.
The ancient roads, seldom used and never repaired, were rough and
bumpy. Having no flying robots, Robert was compelled to transport
himself and a few mechanical servants in ground vehicles. He
had--idiotically, he now realized--started with the dawn, and was
already tired.
Consequently, he was perhaps unduly annoyed when two tiny spy-eyes
flew down from the hills to hover above his caravan on whirring little
propellers. He tried to glance up pleasantly while their lenses
televised pictures to their base, but he feared that his smile was
strained.
The spy-eyes retired after a few minutes. Robert's vehicle, at his
voiced order, turned onto a road leading between two forested hills.
_Right there_, he thought four hours later, _was where I made my
mistake. I should have turned back and gone home!_
He stood in the doorway of a small cottage of pale blue trimmed with
yellow, watching his robots unload baggage. They were supervised by
Blue Two, the spare for Blue One.
* * * * *
Also watching, as silently as Robert, was a pink-and-blue striped
robot which had guided the caravan from the entrance gate to the
cottage. After one confused protest in a curiously high voice, it had
not spoken.
_Maybe we shouldn't have driven through that flower bed_, thought
Robert. _Still, the thing ought to be versatile enough to say so. I
wouldn't have such a gimcrack contraption!_
He looked up as another humanoid robot in similar colors approached
along the line of shrubs separating the main lawns from that
surrounding the cottage.
"Marcia-Joan has finished her nap. You may come to the house now."
Robert's jaw hung slack as he sought for a reply. His face flushed at
the idea of a robot's offering _him_ permission to enter the house.
Nevertheless, he followed it across the wide lawn and between banks of
gaily blossoming flowers to the main house. Robert was not sure which
color scheme he disliked more, that of the robot or the unemphatic
pastel tints of the house.
The robot led the way inside and along a hall. It pulled back a
curtain near the other end, revealing a room with furniture for human
use. Robert stared at the girl who sat in an armchair, clad in a long
robe of soft, pink material.
She looked a few years younger than he. Her hair and eyes were also
brown, though darker. In contrast to Robert's, her smooth skin was
only lightly tanned, and she wore her hair much longer. He thought her
oval face might have been pleasant if not for the analytical
expression she wore.
"I am quite human," he said in annoyance. "Do you have a voice?"
She rose and walked over to him curiously. Robert saw that she was
several inches shorter than he, about the height of one of his robots.
He condescended to bear her scrutiny.
"You look just as you do on the telescreen," she marveled.
Robert began to wonder if the girl were feeble-minded. How else should
he look?
"I usually swim at this hour," he said to change the subject. "Where
is the pool?"
Marcia-Joan stared at him.
"Pool of what?" she asked.
Sensing sarcasm, he scowled. "Pool of water, of course! To swim in.
What did you think I meant--a pool of oil?"
"I am not acquainted with your habits," retorted the girl.
"None of that stupid wit!" he snapped. "Where is the pool?"
"Don't shout!" shouted the girl. Her voice was high and unpleasantly
shrill compared with his. "I don't have a pool. Who wants a swimming
pool, anyway?"
Robert felt his face flushing with rage.
_So she won't tell me!_ he thought. _All right, I'll find it myself.
Everybody has a pool. And if she comes in, I'll hold her head under
for a while!_
Sneering, he turned toward the nearest exit from the house. The gaily
striped robot hastened after him.
* * * * *
The door failed to swing back as it should have at Robert's approach.
Impatiently, he seized the ornamental handle. He felt his shoulder
grasped by a metal hand.
"Do not use the front door!" said the robot.
"Let go!" ordered Robert, incensed that any robot should presume to
hinder him.
"Only Marcia-Joan uses this door," said the robot, ignoring Robert's
displeasure.
"I'll use it if I like!" declared Robert, jerking the handle.
The next moment, he was lifted bodily into the air. By the time he
realized what was happening, he was carried, face down, along the
hall. Too astonished even to yell, he caught a glimpse of
Marcia-Joan's tiny feet beneath the hem of her pink robe as his head
passed the curtained doorway.
The robot clumped on to the door at the rear of the house and out into
the sunshine. There, it released its grip.
When Robert regained the breath knocked out of him by the drop, and
assured himself that no bones were broken, his anger returned.
"I'll find it, wherever it is!" he growled, and set out to search the
grounds.
About twenty minutes later, he was forced to admit that there really
was no swimming pool. Except for a brook fifty yards away, there was
only the tiled bathroom of the cottage to bathe in.
"Primitive!" exclaimed Robert, eying this. "Manually operated water
supply, too! I must have the robots fix something better for
tomorrow."
Since none of his robots was equipped with a thermometer, he had to
draw the bath himself. Meanwhile, he gave orders to Blue Two regarding
the brook and a place to swim. He managed to fill the tub without
scalding himself mainly because there was no hot water. His
irritation, by the time he had dressed in fresh clothes and prepared
for another talk with his hostess, was still lively.
"Ah, you return?" Marcia-Joan commented from a window above the back
door.
"It is time to eat," said Robert frankly.
"You are mistaken."
He glanced at the sunset, which was already fading.
"It _is_ time," he insisted. "I always eat at this hour."
"Well, I don't."
Robert leaned back to examine her expression more carefully. He felt
very much the way he had the day the water-supply robot for his pool
had broken down and, despite Robert's bellowed orders, had flooded a
good part of the lawn before Blue One had disconnected it. Some
instinct warned him, moreover, that bellowing now would be as useless
as it had been then.
"What _do_ you do now?" he asked.
"I dress for the evening."
"And when do you eat?"
"After I finish dressing."
"I'll wait for you," said Robert, feeling that that much tolerance
could do no particular harm.
He encountered the pink-and-blue robot in the hall, superintending
several plain yellow ones bearing dishes and covered platters. Robert
followed them to a dining room.
"Marcia-Joan sits there," the major-domo informed him as he moved
toward the only chair at the table.
* * * * *
Robert warily retreated to the opposite side of the table and looked
for another chair. None was visible.
_Of course_, he thought, trying to be fair. _Why should anybody in
this day have more than one chair? Robots don't sit._
He waited for the major-domo to leave, but it did not. The serving
robots finished laying out the dishes and retired to posts along the
wall. Finally, Robert decided that he would have to make his status
clear or risk going hungry.
_If I sit down somewhere_, he decided, _it may recognize me as human.
What a stupid machine to have!_
He started around the end of the table again, but the striped robot
moved to intercept him. Robert stopped.
"Oh, well," he sighed, sitting sidewise on a corner of the table.
The robot hesitated, made one or two false starts in different
directions, then halted. The situation had apparently not been
included among its memory tapes. Robert grinned and lifted the cover
of the nearest platter.
He managed to eat, despite his ungraceful position and what he
considered the scarcity of the food. Just as he finished the last
dish, he heard footsteps in the hall.
Marcia-Joan had dressed in a fresh robe, of crimson. Its thinner
material was gathered at the waist by clasps of gleaming gold. The
arrangement emphasized bodily contours Robert had previously seen only
in historical films.
He became aware that she was regarding him with much the same
suggestion of helpless dismay as the major-domo.
"Why, you've eaten it all!" she exclaimed.
"All?" snorted Robert. "There was hardly any food!"
Marcia-Joan walked slowly around the table, staring at the empty
dishes.
"A few bits of raw vegetables and the tiniest portion of
protein-concentrate I ever saw!" Robert continued. "Do you call that a
dinner to serve a guest?"
"And I especially ordered two portions--"
"Two?" Robert repeated in astonishment. "You must visit me sometime.
I'll show you--"
"What's the matter with my food?" interrupted the girl. "I follow the
best diet advice my robots could find in the city library."
"They should have looked for human diets, not song-birds'."
He lifted a cover in hopes of finding some overlooked morsel, but the
platter was bare.
"No wonder you act so strangely," he said. "You must be suffering from
malnutrition. I don't wonder with a skimpy diet like this."
"It's very healthful," insisted Marcia-Joan. "The old film said it was
good for the figure, too."
"Not interested," grunted Robert. "I'm satisfied as I am."
"Oh, yes? You look gawky to me."
"_You_ don't," retorted Robert, examining her disdainfully. "You are
short and stubby and too plump."
"_Plump?_"
"Worse, you're actually fat in lots of places I'm not."
"At least not between the ears!"
Robert blinked.
"Wh-wh-WHAT?"
"And besides," she stormed on, "those robots you brought are painted
the most repulsive colors!"
* * * * *
Robert closed his mouth and silently sought the connection.
_Robots?_ he thought. _Not fat, but repulsive colors, she said. What
has that to do with food? The woman seems incapable of logic._
"And furthermore," Marcia-Joan was saying, "I'm not sure I care for
the looks of you! Lulu, put him out!"
"Who's Lulu?" demanded Robert.
Then, as the major-domo moved forward, he understood.
"What a silly name for a robot!" he exclaimed.
"I suppose you'd call it Robert. Will you go now, or shall I call more
robots?"
"I am not a fool," said Robert haughtily. "I shall go. Thank you for
the disgusting dinner."
"Do not use the front door," said the robot. "Only Marcia-Joan uses
that. All robots use other doors."
Robert growled, but walked down the hall to the back door. As this
swung open to permit his passage, he halted.
"It's dark out there now," he complained over his shoulder. "Don't you
have any lights on your grounds? Do you want me to trip over
something?"
"Of course I have ground lights!" shrilled Marcia-Joan. "I'll show
you--not that I care if you trip or not."
A moment later, lights concealed among the trees glowed into life.
Robert walked outside and turned toward the cottage.
_I should have asked her what the colors of my robots had to do with
it_, he thought, and turned back to re-enter.
He walked right into the closed door, which failed to open before him,
though it had operated smoothly a moment ago.
"Robots not admitted after dark," a mechanical voice informed him.
"Return to your stall in the shed."
"Whom do you think you're talking to?" demanded Robert. "I'm not one
of your robots!"
There was a pause.
"Is it Marcia-Joan?" asked the voice-box, after considerable buzzing
and whirring.
"No, I'm Robert."
There was another pause while the mechanism laboriously shifted back
to its other speech tape. Then: "Robots not admitted after dark.
Return to your stall in the shed."
Robert slowly raised both hands to his temples. Lingeringly, he
dragged them down over his cheeks and under his chin until at last the
fingers interlaced over his tight lips. After a moment, he let out his
breath between his fingers and dropped his hands to his sides.
He raised one foot to kick, but decided that the door looked too hard.
He walked away between the beds of flowers, grumbling.
* * * * *
Reaching the vicinity of the cottage, he parted the tall shrubs
bordering its grounds and looked through carefully before proceeding.
Pleased at the gleam of water, he called Blue Two.
"Good enough! Put the other robots away for the night. They can trim
the edges tomorrow."
He started into the cottage, but his major-domo warned, "Someone
comes."
Robert looked around. Through thin portions of the shrubbery, he
caught a glimpse of Marcia-Joan's crimson robe, nearly black in the
diffused glow of the lights illuminating the grounds.
"Robert!" called the girl angrily. "What are your robots doing? I saw
them from my upstairs window--"
"Wait there!" exclaimed Robert as she reached the shrubs.
"What? Are you trying to tell me where I can go or not go? I--YI!"
The shriek was followed by a tremendous splash. Robert stepped forward
in time to be spattered by part of the flying spray. It was cold.
_Naturally, being drawn from the brook_, he reflected. _Oh, well, the
sun will warm it tomorrow._
There was a frenzy of thrashing and splashing in the dimly lighted
water at his feet, accompanied by coughs and spluttering demands that
he "do something!"
[Illustration]
Robert reached down with one hand, caught his hostess by the wrist,
and heaved her up to solid ground.
"My robots are digging you a little swimming hole," he told her. "They
brought the water from the brook by a trench. You can finish it with
concrete or plastics later; it's only fifteen by thirty feet."
He expected some sort of acknowledgment of his efforts, and peered at
her through the gloom when none was forthcoming. He thus caught a
glimpse of the full-swinging slap aimed at his face. He tried to duck.
There was another splash, followed by more floundering about.
"Reach up," said Robert patiently, "and I'll pull you out again. I
didn't expect you to like it this much."
Marcia-Joan scrambled up the bank, tugged viciously at her sodden
robe, and headed for the nearest pathway without replying. Robert
followed along.
As they passed under one of the lights, he noticed that the red
reflections of the wet material, where it clung snugly to the girl's
body, were almost the color of some of his robots.
_The tennis robot_, he thought, _and the moving targets for
archery--in fact, all the sporting equipment._
"You talk about food for the figure," he remarked lightly. "You should
see yourself now! It's really funny, the way--"
He stopped. Some strange emotion stifled his impulse to laugh at the
way the robe clung.
Instead, he lengthened his stride, but he was still a few feet behind
when she charged through the front entrance of the house. The door,
having opened automatically for her, started to swing closed. Robert
sprang forward to catch it.
"Wait a minute!" he cried.
Marcia-Joan snapped something that sounded like "Get out!" over her
shoulder, and squished off toward the stairs. As Robert started
through the door to follow, the striped robot hastened toward him from
its post in the hall.
"Do not use the front door!" it warned him.
"Out of my way!" growled Robert.
The robot reached out to enforce the command. Robert seized it by the
forearm and put all his weight into a sudden tug. The machine tottered
off balance. Releasing his grip, he sent it staggering out the door
with a quick shove.
* * * * *
A hasty glance showed Marcia-Joan flapping wetly up the last steps.
Robert turned to face the robot.
"Do not use that door!" he quoted vindictively, and the robot halted
its rush indecisively. "Only Marcia-Joan uses it."
The major-domo hesitated. After a moment, it strode off around the
corner of the house. First darting one more look at the stairs, Robert
thrust his head outside and shouted: "Blue Two!"
He held the door open while he waited. There was an answer from the
shrubbery. Presently, his own supervisor hurried up.
"Fetch the emergency toolbox!" Robert ordered. "And bring a couple of
others with you."
"Naturally, Robert. I would not carry it myself."
A moment after the robot had departed on the errand, heavy steps
sounded at the rear of the hall. Marcia-Joan's robot had dealt with
the mechanism of the back door.
Robert eyed the metal mask as the robot walked up to him. He found the
color contrast less pleasant than ever.
"I am not using the door," he said hastily. "I am merely holding it
open."
"Do you intend to use it?"
"I haven't decided."
"I shall carry you out back," the robot decided for him.
"No, you don't!" exclaimed Robert, leaping backward.
The door immediately began to swing shut as he passed through.
Cursing, he lunged forward. The robot reached for him.
This time, Robert missed his grip. Before he could duck away, his
wrist was trapped in a metal grasp.
_The door will close_, he despaired. _They'll be too late._
Then, suddenly, he felt the portal drawn back and heard Blue Two
speak.
"What does Robert wish?"
"Throw this heap out the door!" gasped Robert.
Amid a trampling of many feet, the major-domo was raised bodily by
Blue Two and another pair of Robert's machines and hustled outside.
Since the grip on Robert's wrist was not relaxed, he involuntarily
accompanied the rush of metal bodies.
"Catch the door!" he called to Blue Two.
When the latter sprang to obey, the other two took the action as a
signal to drop their burden. The pink-and-blue robot landed full
length with a jingling crash. Robert was free.
With the robots, he made for the entrance. Hearing footsteps behind
him as the major-domo regained its feet, he slipped hastily inside.
"Pick up that toolbox!" he snapped. "When that robot stops in the
doorway, knock its head off!"
Turning, he held up a finger.
[Illustration]
"Do not use the front door!"
The major-domo hesitated.
The heavy toolbox in the grip of Blue Two descended with a thud. The
pink-and-blue robot landed on the ground a yard or two outside the
door as if dropped from the second floor. It bounced once, emitted a
few sparks and pungent wisps of smoke, lay still.
"Never mind, that's good enough," said Robert as Blue Two stepped
forward. "One of the others can drag it off to the repair shop. Have
the toolbox brought with us."
"What does Robert wish now?" inquired Blue Two, trailing the man
toward the stairway.
"I'm going upstairs," said Robert. "And I intend to be prepared if any
more doors are closed against me!"
He started up, the measured treads of his own robots sounding
reassuringly behind him....
* * * * *
It was about a week later that Robert sat relaxed in the armchair
before his own telescreen, facing Henry's wizened visage.
The elder man clucked sympathetically as he re-examined the scratches
on Robert's face and the bruise under his right eye.
"And so you left there in the morning?"
"I certainly did!" declared Robert. "We registered a marriage record
at the city library by television, of course, but I don't care if I
never see her again. She needn't even tell me about the child, if any.
I simply can't stand that girl!"
"Now, now," Henry said.
"I mean it! Absolutely no consideration for my wishes. Everything in
the house was run to suit her convenience."
"After all," Henry pointed out, "it _is_ her house."
Robert glared. "What has that to do with it? I don't think I was as
unreasonable as she said in smashing that robot. The thing just
wouldn't let me alone!"
"I guess," Henry suggested, "it was conditioned to obey Marcia-Joan,
not you."
"Well, that shows you! Whose orders are to count, anyway? When I tell
a robot to do something, I expect it done. How would you like to find
robots trying to boss you around?"
"Are you talking about robots," asked Henry, "or the girl?"
"Same thing, isn't it? Or it would be if I'd decided to bring her home
with me."
"Conflict of desires," murmured Henry.
"Exactly! It's maddening to have a perfectly logical action interfered
with because there's another person present to insist--_insist_, mind
you--on having her way."
"And for twenty-odd years, you've had your own way in every tiny
thing."
Somewhere in the back of Robert's lurked a feeling that Henry sounded
slightly sarcastic.
"Well, why shouldn't I?" he demanded. "I noticed that in every
disagreement, my view was the right one."
"It was?"
"Of course it was! What did you mean by that tone?"
"Nothing...." Henry seemed lost in thought. "I was just wondering how
many 'right' views are left on this planet. There must be quite a few,
all different, even if we have picked up only a few by television. An
interesting facet of our peculiar culture--every individual omnipotent
and omniscient, _within his own sphere_."
Robert regarded him with indignant incredulity.
"You don't seem to understand my point," he began again. "I told her
we ought to come to my house, where things are better arranged, and
she simply refused. Contradicted me! It was most--"
He broke off.
"The _impudence_ of him!" he exclaimed. "Signing off when _I_ wanted
to talk!"
--H. B. FYFE
* * * * *
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Manners of the Age, by Horace Brown Fyfe
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MANNERS OF THE AGE ***
***** This file should be named 32764.txt or 32764.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/7/6/32764/
Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. 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 MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.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. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
http://pglaf.org/fundraising. 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 principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
[email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
[email protected]
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread 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 http://pglaf.org
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: http://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain 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 Web site which has the main PG search facility:
http://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
