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+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "63833", "uid": "ea0017c487a245668698cf527019b2b6", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "Jinx Ship To The Rescue\n \n\n By ALFRED COPPEL, JR.\n \n \n Stand by for T.R.S. Aphrodite , butt of the Space Navy. She's got something terrific in her guts and only her ice-cold lady engineer can coax it out of her!\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Winter 1948. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n \n Brevet Lieutenant Commander David Farragut Strykalski III of the Tellurian Wing, Combined Solarian Navies, stood ankle deep in the viscous mud of Venusport Base and surveyed his new command with a jaundiced eye. The hot, slimy, greenish rain that drenched Venusport for two-thirds of the 720-hour day had stopped at last, but now a miasmic fog was rising from the surrounding swampland, rolling across the mushy landing ramp toward the grounded spaceship. Visibility was dropping fast, and soon porto-sonar sets would have to be used to find the way about the surface Base. It was an ordinary day on Venus.\n \n Strike cursed Space Admiral Gorman and all his ancestors with a wealth of feeling. Then he motioned wearily to his companion, and together they sloshed through the mud toward the ancient monitor.\n \n The scaly bulk of the Tellurian Rocket Ship Aphrodite loomed unhappily into the thick air above the two men as they reached the ventral valve. Strike raised reluctant eyes to the sloping flank of the fat spaceship.\n \n \"It looks,\" he commented bitterly, \"like a pregnant carp.\"\n \n Senior Lieutenant Coburn Whitley—\"Cob\" to his friends—nodded in agreement. \"That's our Lover-Girl ... old Aphrodisiac herself. The ship with the poison personality.\" Cob was the Aphrodite's Executive, and he had been with her a full year ... which was a record for Execs on the Aphrodite . She generally sent them Earthside with nervous breakdowns in half that time.\n \n \"Tell me, Captain,\" continued Cob curiously, \"how does it happen that you of all people happened to draw this tub for a command? I thought....\"\n \n \"You know Gorman?\" queried Strykalski.\n \n Cob nodded. \"Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. Old Brass-bottom Gorman?\"\n \n \"The same.\"\n \n \"Well,\" Cob ran a hand over his chin speculatively, \"I know Gorman's a prize stinker ... but you were in command of the Ganymede . And, after all, you come from an old service family and all that. How come this?\" He indicated the monitor expressively.\n \n Strike sighed. \"Well, now, Cob, I'll tell you. You'll be spacing with me and I guess you've a right to know the worst ... not that you wouldn't find it out anyway. I come from a long line of very sharp operators. Seven generations of officers and gentlemen. Lousy with tradition.\n \n \"The first David Farragut Strykalski, son of a sea-loving Polish immigrant, emerged from World War II a four-striper and Congressional Medal winner. Then came David Farragut Strykalski, Jr., and, in the abortive Atomic War that terrified the world in 1961, he won a United Nations Peace Citation. And then came David Farragut Strykalski III ... me.\n \n \"From such humble beginnings do great traditions grow. But something happened when I came into the picture. I don't fit with the rest of them. Call it luck or temperament or what have you.\n \n \"In the first place I seem to have an uncanny talent for saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. Gorman for example. And I take too much on my own initiative. Gorman doesn't like that. I lost the Ganymede because I left my station where I was supposed to be running section-lines to take on a bunch of colonists I thought were in danger....\"\n \n \"The Procyon A people?\" asked Cob.\n \n \"So you've heard about it.\" Strike shook his head sadly. \"My tactical astrophysicist warned me that Procyon A might go nova. I left my routine post and loaded up on colonists.\" He shrugged. \"Wrong guess. No nova. I made an ass of myself and lost the Ganymede . Gorman gave it to his former aide. I got this.\"\n \n Cob coughed slightly. \"I heard something about Ley City, too.\"\n \n \"Me again. The Ganymede's whole crew ended up in the Luna Base brig. We celebrated a bit too freely.\"\n \n Cob Whitley looked admiringly at his new Commander. \"That was the night after the Ganymede broke the record for the Centaurus B-Earth run, wasn't it? And then wasn't there something about....\"\n \n \"Canalopolis?\"\n \n Whitley nodded.\n \n \"That time I called the Martian Ambassador a spy. It was at a Tellurian Embassy Ball.\"\n \n \"I begin to see what you mean, Captain.\"\n \n \"Strike's the name, Cob.\"\n \n Whitley's smile was expansive. \"Strike, I think you're going to like our old tin pot here.\" He patted the Aphrodite's nether belly affectionately. \"She's old ... but she's loose. And we're not likely to meet any Ambassadors or Admirals with her, either.\"\n \n Strykalski sighed, still thinking of his sleek Ganymede . \"She'll carry the mail, I suppose. And that's about all that's expected of her.\"\n \n Cob shrugged philosophically. \"Better than tanking that stinking rocket fuel, anyway. Deep space?\"\n \n Strike shook his head. \"Venus-Mars.\"\n \n Cob scratched his chin speculatively. \"Perihelion run. Hot work.\"\n \n Strike was again looking at the spaceship's unprepossessing exterior.\n\"A surge-circuit monitor, so help me.\"\n \n Cob nodded agreement. \"The last of her class.\"\n \n \n\n \n And she was not an inspiring sight. The fantastically misnamed Aphrodite was a surge-circuit monitor of twenty guns built some ten years back in the period immediately preceding the Ionian Subjugation Incident. She had been designed primarily for atomics, with a surge-circuit set-up for interstellar flight. At least that was the planner's view. In those days, interstellar astrogation was in its formative stage, and at the time of the Aphrodite's launching the surge-circuit was hailed as the very latest in space drives.\n \n Her designer, Harlan Hendricks, had been awarded a Legion of Merit for her, and every silver-braided admiral in the Fleet had dreamed of hoisting his flag on one of her class. There had been three. The Artemis , the Andromeda , and the prototype ... old Aphrodisiac. The three vessels had gone into action off Callisto after the Phobos Raid had set off hostilities between the Ionians and the Solarian Combine.\n \n All three were miserable failures.\n \n The eager officers commanding the three monitors had found the circuit too appealing to their hot little hands. They used it ... in some way, wrongly.\n \n The Artemis exploded. The Andromeda vanished in the general direction of Coma Berenices glowing white hot from the heat of a ruptured fission chamber and spewing gamma rays in all directions. And the Aphrodite's starboard tubes blew, causing her to spend her store of vicious energy spinning like a Fourth of July pinwheel under\n20 gravities until all her interior fittings ... including crew were a tangled, pulpy mess within her pressure hull.\n \n The Aphrodite was refitted for space. And because it was an integral part of her design, the circuit was rebuilt ... and sealed. She became a workhorse, growing more cantankerous with each passing year. She carried personnel.... She trucked ores. She ferried skeeterboats and tanked rocket fuel. Now, she would carry the mail. She would lift from Venusport and jet to Canalopolis, Mars, without delay or variation. Regulations, tradition and Admiral Gorman of the Inner Planet Fleet required it. And it was now up to David Farragut Strykalski III to see to it that she did....\n \n The Officer of the Deck, a trim blonde girl in spotless greys saluted smartly as Strike and Cob stepped through the valve.\n \n Strike felt vaguely uncomfortable. He knew, of course, that at least a third of the personnel on board non-combat vessels of the Inner Planet Fleet was female, but he had never actually had women on board a ship of his own, and he felt quite certain that he preferred them elsewhere.\n \n Cob sensed his discomfort. \"That was Celia Graham, Strike. Ensign. Radar Officer. She's good, too.\"\n \n Strike shook his head. \"Don't like women in space. They make me uncomfortable.\"\n \n Cob shrugged. \"Celia's the only officer. But about a quarter of our ratings are women.\" He grinned maliciously. \"Equal rights, you know.\"\n \n \"No doubt,\" commented the other sourly. \"Is that why they named this ... ship 'Aphrodite'?\"\n \n Whitley saw fit to consider the question rhetorical and remained silent.\n \n Strike lowered his head to clear the arch of the flying-bridge bulkhead. Cob followed. He trailed his Captain through a jungle of chrome piping to the main control panels. Strike sank into an acceleration chair in front of the red DANGER seal on the surge-circuit rheostat.\n \n \"Looks like a drug-store fountain, doesn't it?\" commented Cob.\n \n Strykalski nodded sadly, thinking of the padded smoothness of the Ganymede's flying-bridge. \"But she's home to us, anyway.\"\n \n The thick Venusian fog had closed in around the top levels of the ship, hugging the ports and cutting off all view of the field outside. Strike reached for the squawk-box control.\n \n \"Now hear this. All officer personnel will assemble in the flying bridge at 600 hours for Captain's briefing. Officer of the Deck will recall any enlisted personnel now on liberty....\"\n \n Whitley was on his feet, all the slackness gone from his manner.\n\"Orders, Captain?\"\n \n \"We can't do anything until the new Engineering Officer gets here. They're sending someone down from the Antigone , and I expect him by\n600 hours. In the meantime you'll take over his part of the work. See to it that we are fueled and ready to lift ship by 602. Base will start loading the mail at 599:30. That's about all.\"\n \n \"Yes, sir.\" Whitley saluted and turned to go. At the bulkhead, he paused. \"Captain,\" he asked, \"Who is the new E/O to be?\"\n \n Strike stretched his long legs out on the steel deck. \"A Lieutenant Hendricks, I. V. Hendricks, is what the orders say.\"\n \n Cob thought hard for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. \"I. V. Hendricks.\" He shook his head. \"Don't know him.\"\n \n \n\n \n The other officers of the T.R.S. Aphrodite were in conference with the Captain when Cob and the girl at his side reached the flying bridge. She was tall and dark-haired with regular features and pale blue eyes. She wore a service jumper with two silver stripes on the shoulder-straps, and even the shapeless garment could not hide the obvious trimness of her figure.\n \n Strike's back was toward the bulkhead, and he was addressing the others.\n \n \"... and that's about the story. We are to jet within 28,000,000 miles of Sol. Orbit is trans-Mercurian hyperbolic. With Mars in opposition, we have to make a perihelion run and it won't be pleasant. But I'm certain this old boiler can take it. I understand the old boy who designed her wasn't as incompetent as they say. But Space Regs are specific about mail runs. This is important to you, Evans. Your astrogation has to be accurate to within twenty-five miles plus or minus the shortest route. And there'll be no breaking orbit. Now be certain that the refrigeration units are checked, Mister Wilkins, especially in the hydroponic cells. Pure air is going to be important.\"\n \n \"That's about all there is to tell you. As soon as our rather leisurely E/O gets here, we can jet with Aunt Nelly's postcard.\" He nodded. \"That's the story. Lift ship in....\" He glanced at his wrist chronograph, \"... in an hour and five.\"\n \n The officers filed out and Cob Whitley stuck his head into the room.\n\"Captain?\"\n \n \"Come in, Cob.\" Strike's dark brows knit at the sight of the uniformed girl in the doorway.\n \n Cob's face was sober, but hidden amusement was kindling behind his eyes. \"Captain, may I present Lieutenant Hendricks? Lieutenant I-vy Hendricks?\"\n \n Strike looked blankly at the girl.\n \n \"Our new E/O, Captain,\" prompted Whitley.\n \n \"Uh ... welcome aboard, Miss Hendricks,\" was all the Captain could find to say.\n \n The girl's eyes were cold and unfriendly. \"Thank you, Captain.\" Her voice was like cracked ice tinkling in a glass. \"If I may have your permission to inspect the drives, Captain, I may be able to convince you that the designer of this vessel was not ... as you seem to think ... a senile incompetent.\"\n \n Strike was perplexed, and he showed it. \"Why, certainly ... uh ... Miss ... but why should you be so....\"\n \n The girl's voice was even colder than before as she said, \"Harlan Hendricks, Captain, is my father.\"\n \n \n\n \n A week in space had convinced Strike that he commanded a jinx ship. Jetting sunward from Venus, the cantankerous Aphrodite had burned a steering tube through, and it had been necessary to go into free-fall while Jenkins, the Assistant E/O, and a damage control party effected repairs. When the power was again applied, Old Aphrodisiac was running ten hours behind schedule, and Strike and Evans, the Astrogation Officer, were sweating out the unforeseen changes introduced into the orbital calculations by the time spent in free-fall.\n \n The Aphrodite rumbled on toward the orbit of Mercury....\n \n For all the tension between the occupants of the flying-bridge, Strike and Ivy Hendricks worked well together. And after a second week in space, a reluctant admiration was replacing the resentment between them. Ivy spent whatever time she could spare tinkering with her father's pet surge-circuit and Strike began to realize that there was little she did not know about spaceship engineering. Then, too, Ivy spent a lot of time at the controls, and Strike was forced to admit that he had never seen a finer job of piloting done by man or woman.\n \n And finally, Ivy hated old Brass-bottom Gorman even more than Strike did. She felt that Gorman had ruined her father's career, and she was dedicating her life to proving her father right and Brass-bottom wrong. There's nothing in the cosmos to nurture friendship like a common enemy.\n \n At 30,000,000 miles from the sun, the Aphrodite's refrigeration units could no longer keep the interior of the ship at a comfortable temperature. The thermometer stood at 102°F, the very metal of the ship's fittings hot to the touch. Uniforms were discarded, insignia of rank vanished. The men dressed in fiberglass shorts and spaceboots, sweat making their naked bodies gleam like copper under the sodium-vapor lights. The women in the crew added only light blouses to their shorts ... and suffered from extra clothing.\n \n Strike was in the observation blister forward, when Ensign Graham called to say that she had picked up a radar contact sunward. The IFF showed the pips to be the Lachesis and the Atropos . The two dreadnaughts were engaged in coronary research patrol ... a purely routine business. But the thing that made Strike curse under his breath was Celia Graham's notation that the Atropos carried none other than Space Admiral Horatio Gorman, Cominch Inplan.\n \n Strike thought it a pity that old Brass-bottom couldn't fall into Hell's hottest pit ... and he told Ivy so.\n \n And she agreed.\n \n \n\n \n Old Aphrodisiac had reached perihelion when it happened. The thermometer stood at 135° and tempers were snapping. Cob and Celia Graham had tangled about some minor point concerning Lover-Girl's weight and balance. Ivy went about her work on the bridge without speaking, and Strike made no attempt to brighten her sudden depression. Lieutenant Evans had punched Bayne, the Tactical Astrophysicist, in the eye for some disparaging remark about Southern California womanhood. The ratings were grumbling about the food....\n \n And then it happened.\n \n Cob was in the radio room when Sparks pulled the flimsy from the scrambler. It was a distress signal from the Lachesis . The Atropos had burst a fission chamber and was falling into the sun. Radiation made a transfer of personnel impossible, and the Atropos skeeterboats didn't have the power to pull away from the looming star. The Lachesis had a line on the sister dreadnaught and was valiantly trying to pull the heavy vessel to safety, but even the thundering power of the Lachesis' mighty drive wasn't enough to break Sol's deathgrip on the battleship.\n \n A fleet of souped-up space-tugs was on its way from Luna and Venusport, but they could not possibly arrive on time. And it was doubtful that even the tugs had the necessary power to drag the crippled Atropos away from a fiery end.\n \n Cob snatched the flimsy from Sparks' hands and galloped for the flying-bridge. He burst in and waved the message excitedly in front of Strykalski's face.\n \n \"Have a look at this! Ye gods and little catfish! Read it!\"\n \n \"Well, dammit, hold it still so I can!\" snapped Strike. He read the message and passed it to Ivy Hendricks with a shake of his head.\n \n She read it through and looked up exultantly. \"This is it ! This is the chance I've been praying for, Strike!\"\n \n He returned her gaze sourly. \"For Gorman to fall into the sun? I recall I said something of the sort myself, but there are other men on those ships. And, if I know Captain Varni on the Lachesis , he won't let go that line even if he fries himself.\"\n \n Ivy's eyes snapped angrily. \"That's not what I meant, and you know it! I mean this!\" She touched the red-sealed surge-circuit rheostat.\n \n \"That's very nice, Lieutenant,\" commented Cob drily. \"And I know that you've been very busy adjusting that gismo. But I seem to recall that the last time that circuit was uncorked everyone aboard became part of the woodwork ... very messily, too.\"\n \n \"Let me understand you, Ivy,\" said Strike in a flat voice. \"What you are suggesting is that I risk my ship and the lives of all of us trying to pull old Gorman's fat out of the fire with a drive that's blown skyhigh three times out of three. Very neat.\"\n \n There were tears bright in Ivy Hendricks' eyes and she sounded desperate. \"But we can save those ships! We can, I know we can! My father designed this ship! I know every rivet of her! Those idiots off Callisto didn't know what they were doing. These ships needed specially trained men. Father told them that! And I'm trained! I can take her in and save those ships!\" Her expression turned to one of disgust. \"Or are you afraid?\"\n \n \"Frankly, Ivy, I haven't enough sense to be afraid. But are you so certain that we can pull this off? If I make a mistake this time ... it'll be the last. For all of us.\"\n \n \"We can do it,\" said Ivy Hendricks simply.\n \n Strike turned to Cob. \"What do you say, Cob? Shall we make it hotter in here?\"\n \n Whitley shrugged. \"If you say so, Strike. It's good enough for me.\"\n \n Celia Graham left the bridge shaking her head. \"We'll all be dead soon. And me so young and pretty.\"\n \n Strike turned to the squawk-box. \"Evans!\"\n \n \"Evans here,\" came the reply.\n \n \"Have Sparks get a DF fix on the Atropos and hold it. We'll home on their carrier wave. They're in trouble and we're going after them. Plot the course.\"\n \n \"Yes, Captain.\"\n \n Strike turned to Cob. \"Have the gun-crews stand by to relieve the black-gang in the tube rooms. It's going to get hotter than the hinges of hell down there and we'll have to shorten shifts.\"\n \n \"Yes, sir!\" Cob saluted and was gone.\n \n Strike returned to the squawk-box. \"Radar!\"\n \n \"Graham here,\" replied Celia from her station.\n \n \"Get a radar fix on the Lachesis and hold it. Send your dope up to Evans and tell him to send us a range estimate.\"\n \n \"Yes, Captain,\" the girl replied crisply.\n \n \"Gun deck!\"\n \n \"Gun deck here, sir,\" came a feminine voice.\n \n \"Have number two starboard torpedo tube loaded with a fish and a spool of cable. Be ready to let fly on short notice ... any range.\"\n \n \"Yes, sir!\" The girl switched off.\n \n \"And now you, Miss Hendricks.\"\n \n \"Yes, Captain?\" Her voice was low.\n \n \"Take over Control ... and Ivy....\"\n \n \"Yes?\"\n \n \"Don't kill us off.\" He smiled down at her.\n \n She nodded silently and took her place at the control panel. Smoothly she turned old Aphrodisiac's nose sunward....\n \n \n\n \n Lashed together with a length of unbreakable beryllium steel cable, the Lachesis and the Atropos fell helplessly toward the sun. The frantic flame that lashed out from the Lachesis' tube was fading, her fission chambers fusing under the terrific heat of splitting atoms. Still she tried. She could not desert her sister ship, nor could she save her. Already the two ships had fallen to within 18,000,000 miles of the sun's terrifying atmosphere of glowing gases. The prominences that spouted spaceward seemed like great fiery tentacles reaching for the trapped men on board the warships. The atmospheric guiding fins, the gun-turrets and other protuberances on both ships were beginning to melt under the fierce radiance. Only the huge refrigeration plants on the vessels made life within them possible. And, even so, men were dying.\n \n Swiftly, the fat, ungainly shape of old Aphrodisiac drew near. In her flying-bridge, Strike and Ivy Hendricks watched the stricken ships in the darkened viewport.\n \n The temperature stood at 140° and the air was bitter with the smell of hot metal. Ivy's blouse clung to her body, soaked through with perspiration. Sweat ran from her hair into her eyes and she gasped for breath in the oven hot compartment. Strike watched her with apprehension.\n \n Carefully, Ivy circled the two warships. From the starboard tube on the gun-deck, a homing rocket leapt toward the Atropos . It plunged straight and true, spilling cable as it flew. It slammed up against the hull, and stuck there, fast to the battleship's flank. Quickly, a robocrane drew it within the ship and the cable was made secure. Like cosmic replicas of the ancient South American \"bolas,\" the three spacecraft whirled in space ... and all three began that sunward plunge together.\n \n \n They were diving into the sun.\n \n\n \n The heat in the Aphrodite's bridge was unbearable. The thermometer showed 145° and it seemed to Strike that Hell must be cool by comparison.\n \n Ivy fought her reeling senses and the bucking ship as the slack came out of the cable. Blackness was flickering at the edges of her field of vision. She could scarcely lift her hand to the red-sealed circuit rheostat. Shudderingly, she made the effort ... and failed. Conscious, but too spent to move, she collapsed over the blistering hot instrument panel.\n \n \" Ivy! \" Strike was beside her, cradling her head in his arm.\n \n \"I ... I ... can't make it ... Strike. You'll ... have to run ... the show ... after ... all.\"\n \n Strike laid her gently in an acceleration chair and turned toward the control panel. His head was throbbing painfully as he broke the seal on the surge-circuit.\n \n Slowly he turned the rheostat. Relays chattered. From deep within old Lover-Girl's vitals came a low whine. He fed more power into the circuit. Cadmium rods slipped into lead sheaths decks below in the tube-rooms. The whining rose in pitch. The spinning of the ships in space slowed. Stopped. With painful deliberation, they swung into line.\n \n More power. The whine changed to a shriek. A banshee wail.\n \n Cob's voice came through the squawk-box, soberly. \"Strike, Celia's fainted down here. We can't take much more of this heat.\"\n \n \"We're trying, Cob!\" shouted Strike over the whine of the circuit. The gauges showed the accumulators full. \" Now! \" He spun the rheostat to the stops, and black space burst over his brain....\n \n The last thing he remembered was a voice. It sounded like Bayne's. And it was shouting. \"We're moving 'em! We're pulling away! We're....\" And that was all.\n \n The space-tug Scylla found them.\n \n The three ships ... Atropos , Lachesis , and old Aphrodisiac ... lashed together and drifting in space. Every man and woman aboard out cold from the acceleration, and Aphrodite's tanks bone dry. But they were a safe 80,000,000 miles from Sol....\n \n \n\n \n The orchestra was subdued, the officer's club softly lighted. Cob leaned his elbow on the bar and bent to inspect the blue ribbon of the Spatial Cross on Strike's chest. Then he inspected his own and nodded with tipsy satisfaction. He stared out at the Martian night beyond the broad windows and back again at Strike. His frown was puzzled.\n \n \"All right,\" said Strike, setting down his glass. \"What's on your mind, Cob? Something's eating you.\"\n \n Whitley nodded very slowly. He took a long pull at his highball. \"I understand that you goofballed your chances of getting the Ganymede back when Gorman spoke his piece to you....\"\n \n \"All I said to him....\"\n \n \"I know. I know what you said ... and it won't bear repeating. But you're not fooling me. You've fallen for old Lover-Girl and you don't want to leave her. Ver-ry commendable. Loyal! Stout fellah! But what about Ivy?\"\n \n \"Ivy?\"\n \n Cob looked away. \"I thought that you and she ... well, I thought that when we got back ... well....\"\n \n Strike shook his head. \"She's gone to the Bureau of Ships with a designing job.\"\n \n Cob waved an expressive arm in the air. \"But dammit, man, I thought....\"\n \n \"The answer is no . Ivy's a nice girl ... but....\" He paused and sighed. \"Since she was promoted to her father's old rank ... well....\" He shrugged. \"Who wants a wife that ranks you?\"\n \n \"Never thought of that,\" mused Cob. For a long while he was silent; then he pulled out an address book and leafed through until he came to the pages marked \"Canalopolis, Mars.\"\n \n And he was gratified to see that Lieutenant Commander David Farragut Strykalski III was doing the same.", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "0c27bef1b7b644ffba735fdb005f9529", "response_text": "Brevet Lieutenant Commander David Farragut Stryakalski III, AKA Strike, is charged with commanding a run-down and faulty vessel, the Aphrodite. Aphrodite was the brain-child of Harlan Hendricks, an engineer who ushered in new technology ten years back. All three of his creations failed spectacularly, resulting in death and a failed career. The Aphrodite was the only ship to survive, and she is now used for hauling mail back and forth between Venus and Mars.\nStrike and Cob, the Aphrodite’s only executive to last more than six months, recount Strike’s great failures and how he ended up here. He used to fly the Ganymede, but was removed after he left his position to rescue colonists who didn’t need rescuing. Strike was no longer trustworthy in Admiral Gorman’s eyes, so he banished him to the Aphrodite. \nThe circuit that caused the initial demise of Aphrodite was sealed off. After meeting some members of his crew, Strike orders a conference for all personnel and calls in an Engineering Officer, one I.V. Hendricks. \nAfter Lieutenant Ivy Hendricks arrives--not I.V.--Strike immediately insults her by degrading the ship’s designer, Harlan Hendricks. As it turns out, Hendricks is his daughter, and she vows to prove him wrong and all those who doubted her father. \nDespite their initial conflict, Strike and Hendricks’ relationship soon evolves from resentment to respect. During this time, Strike’s confidence in the Aphrodite plummets as she suffers from mechanical issues. \nThe Aphrodite starts to heat up as they get closer to the sun. The refrigeration units could not handle the heat, causing discomfort among the crew. As they get closer, a radar contact reveals that two dreadnaughts, the Lachesis and the Atropos, are doing routine patrolling. Nothing to worry about, except the Atropos had Admiral Gorman on board, hated by Strike and Hendricks.\nStrike and Hendricks make a joke about Gorman falling into the sun. As the temperature steadily climbs, the crew members overheat and begin fighting, resulting in a black eye. A distress signal came through from the Lachesis: the Atropos, with Gorman on board, was tumbling into the sun. The Lachesis was attempting to rescue them with an unbreakable cord, but they too were being pulled in. \nHendricks had fixed the surge-circuit rheostat, the one her father designed, and claimed it could help them rescue the ships. After some tension, Strike agrees and they race down to the sun to pick up the drifting dreadnaughts. \nStrike puts Hendricks in charge, but soon the heat overtakes her, and she is unable to continue. Strike takes over, attaches the Aphrodite to the Lachesis with a cord, and turns on the surge-circuit. They blast themselves out of there, rescuing the two ships and Admiral Gorman at the same time. \nCob and Strike are awarded Spatial Cross awards, while Hendricks is promoted to an engineering position at the Bureau of Ships. The story ends with Cob and Strike flipping through the pages of an address book until they land on Canalopolis, Mars. \n"}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "04e79312dede4a0da5993101e55a796a", "response_text": "Strike joins the crew of the Aphrodite after he has made several poor decisions while he was the captain of another spaceship. He is essentially being punished by his boss, Gorman, and put somewhere where he can do little harm. His job is to deliver the mail from Venus to Mars, so it’s pretty straightforward. \n\nWhen he meets the Officer of the Deck, Celia Graham, he immediately becomes uncomfortable. He does not like to work with women in space, although it’s a pretty common occurrence. He holds a captain’s meeting the first day on the job, and he waits to meet his Engineering Officer, I.V. Hendricks. He makes a rude comment about how the man is late for his first meeting, but actually, the female Ivy has already shown up. \n\nAfter meeting Ivy formally, he makes a comment about how the ship Aphrodite was built by an imbecile. Ivy immediately tells him that he’s wrong, and she knows this because the designer of the ship was none other than her own father. \n\nHis first week as captain on the new ship goes very poorly. Several repairs need to be done to Aphrodite, they run  behind schedule, and the new crew members have a tough time getting a handle on Aphrodite’s intricacies. \n\nThe heat index in the ship begins to rise, and the crew members can no longer wear their uniforms without fainting. Suddenly a distress call comes in, and it’s coming from the Atropos, a ship Captained by Gorman, and the Lachesis. The crew members hesitate to take the oldest and most outdated machinery on a rescue trip. Strike has been in trouble for refusing to follow commands before, and he knows it’s a risky move. However, Ivy insists that she knows how to pilot the Aphrodite, and she can save the crew members on the Atropos and the Lachesis from death. They are quickly tumbling towards the sun, and they will perish if someone doesn’t do something quickly. \n\nIvy takes control of the ship, and the heat on the Aphrodite continues to rise steadily. Eventually, she faints from pure heat exhaustion, and she tells Strike that he must take over. He does, and he manages to essentially lasso the other two ships, and with just the right amount of power, he pulls them back into orbit. \n\nAt a bar, after the whole ordeal, Cob pokes fun at Strike for staying on the Aphrodite. He then admits that he actually respects Strike’s loyalty to the ship that saved his reputation. Cob asks about Strike’s relationship with Ivy, but Strike tells him that she has taken her dad’s former job, so she no longer works with him. Strike takes the moment to look up her info, presumably to restart the relationship. \n"}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "71efb8636b504f42a6989bb90e360186", "response_text": "The narrative follows commander Strike as he begins his command of the spaceship Aphrodite. Strike comes from a long line of military greats but himself is prone to poor professional decision making.\n\nAs he takes command, the mission is a simple mail run. However, in the course of their journey, they receive word of two ships in dire need of rescue. Strike and his engineering officer, Ivy Hendricks, decide to use the ships extremely risky surge-circuit to aid the ships.\n\nThe rescue is a success and the crew is hailed for its bravery in saving the doomed vessels. "}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "8aa46ba8bd2945c98babd7dd2d9ecc38", "response_text": "The story starts in a muddy swamp on Venus, where Strike, a Brevet Lieutenant Commander, is encountering his new ship, the Aphrodite, for the first time. Here on Venusport Base, he is introduced to the executive officer of the ship, a man who goes by Cob. Strike comes from a line of servicemen who were all well respected, but he himself has more of a reputation for causing trouble by saying the wrong things or deviating from mission plans. His reputation preceded him, as Cob had specific questions about some of these events. The Aphrodite was incredibly impressive when it was designed, but did not live up to its expectations. It had been refitted, and the new mission that Strike was to lead was a mail run between Venus and Mars. As he entered the ship, Strike began to meet his new crew, including Celia Graham, his Radar Officer. Strike is not used to women being on ships and is decidedly uncomfortable with the idea. As he is briefing the officers who were already present, Strike is surprised when he meets his new engineering officer, Ivy Hendricks. Ivy is the daughter of the man who designed the ship, and she is cold to Strike at first, as he is to her. However, her expertise in engineering generally, the ship specifically, and other skills as well as piloting, meant that Strike warmed up to her as their mission went on. As the ship was flying towards Mars on their route, the crew picked up a distress signal from the Lachesis, which was trying to pull the Atropos away from the gravitational pull of the sun after it was damaged in an equipment malfunction. The Admiral who had put Strike in charge of the Aphrodite was on the Atropos, and Ivy dislikes him even more than Strike does, but they know they have to try to save the crews. Strike is hesitant, but Ivy has a plan and insists that they try. She has spent all of her free time tinkering with the circuits, and takes charge. She turned the Aphrodite towards the ships in danger, and sends out a cable to connect the Aphrodite to those ships. After they are all connected, the ships continue to spin towards the sun, which causes Ivy to pass out, leaving Strike in charge. He manages to pull the ships into line and send the Aphrodite in the right direction before passing out himself. The Aphrodite has the power to pull everyone away from the Sun’s gravity, but the acceleration knocks everyone out on all three ships. In the end, it was a successful rescue mission of multiple crews. Strike and Cob find themselves in an officer’s club at the end of the story, discussing Ivy’s new job, and Strike acknowledges that Cob is right about the Aphrodite having grown on him, and plans to stay its captain."}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Ivy Hendricks and what happens to her throughout the story?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "0c27bef1b7b644ffba735fdb005f9529", "response_text": "Lieutenant Ivy Hendricks is the daughter of Harlan Hendricks, a formerly respected engineer. He created the surge-circuit, an innovation in interstellar astrogation, and he was awarded a Legion of Merit. He designed three famous ships: the Artemis, the Andromeda, and the Aphrodite, the prototype. Despite being hailed as the latest and greatest in technology, all three ships either exploded or failed. \nAccording to Lieutenant Ivy Hendricks, their failures were due to the lack of education on board. She claimed that her father asked for the crew members to be trained in surge-circuit technology, so they could use it properly and correctly. That wish was not granted and after all three ships failed, his reputation and career were doomed. Admiral Gorman pulled the plug on his career and therefore became the target of all Lieutenant Hendricks’ hate. \nWith a bone to pick, Lieutenant Hendricks, a knowledgeable engineer herself, comes aboard the Aphrodite to serve as her engineer and occasional pilot. She wants to prove to the world that her father’s creation was genius and deserving of praise. \nAlthough they started off on the wrong foot, Lieutenant Hendricks and Strike, her commander, develop a friendship and appreciation for each other. They bond over their deep hatred of Admiral Gorman and the joy of piloting a ship. She soon proves herself to Strike, and he begins to trust her. Their relationship walks the fine line between friendship and romance. \nAs the Aphrodite is attempting to rescue the fallen dreadnaughts, Lieutenant Hendricks comes up with the solution. Due to her constant tinkering on the ship, she had fixed the surge-circuit rheostat and made it ready to use. Initially, no one trusts her, seeing as the last time it was used people died. But Strike’s trust in her is strong and true, so he approves the use of the surge-circuit. Hendricks pilots the ship, but soon becomes too overheated and comes close to fainting. Strike takes over piloting and eventually activates the surge-circuit. It works and they are able to rescue the two ships, one of which had Admiral Gorman, her sworn enemy, onboard. \nLieutenant Hendricks receives a major promotion; she is now an engineer at the Bureau of Ships. She proved them wrong, and restored her father’s legacy and good name. The story ends with their romance left in the air, but Hendricks has much to be proud of. \n"}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "04e79312dede4a0da5993101e55a796a", "response_text": "\nLieutenant Ivy Hendricks is the new Engineering Officer on Aphrodite. Strike and Cob assume that Ivy is a man before she arrives because they are sexist and because her name is listed as I.V. in the orders. Ivy is actually the daughter of the man who designed the award-winning craft.\n\nShe is cold and unfriendly towards Strike after she meets him, and that’s probably because he makes a rude comment about the ship which her father created. After a couple weeks of working together, the two begin to get along very well. Strike admires Ivy’s piloting skills and her depth of knowledge about the Aphrodite. \n\nThe two also bond over their shared hatred of Strike’s former boss, Gorman. Strike feels as though he has ruined his career, and Ivy thinks that Gorman torpedoed her father’s career. Ivy wants nothing more than to prove that Gorman is an idiot. \n\nHowever, when Gorman’s ship is hurtling towards the sun and he and his crew members are about to die, Ivy sees that it’s the perfect opportunity to show Gorman just how wrong he was about the ship her father designed. It’s a very dangerous mission, but Ivy is steadfast in her decision and she’s deeply courageous. She pilots the ship for most of the rescue mission, but eventually faints from the extreme heat. She tells Strike that he needs to take over, and he does a great job. \n\nIvy is then promoted, and she moves to Canalopolis, Mars. She now outranks her former Captain, Strike. \n"}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "71efb8636b504f42a6989bb90e360186", "response_text": "Ivy Hendricks is the engineering officer assigned to the Aphrodite. She is the daughter of Harlan Hendricks, the ship's original designer. She is fiercely protective of her father's legacy and resents Admiral Gorman for the way he treated him.\n\nHendricks and Strike, form an alliance of sorts after his initial surprise of seeing a woman assigned to this officer's role. When news arrives that two ships are in danger of falling into the sun, Ivy lobbies to use her father's technology to save the ship. Strike agrees to her plan although the risks are high. The Aphrodite eventually saves the ships although Ivy faints in the process from the heat and command has to be taken over by Strike.\n\nThe successful mission results in a promotion for Ivy as she works as a designer in the Bureau of Ships like her father."}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "8aa46ba8bd2945c98babd7dd2d9ecc38", "response_text": "Ivy Hendricks is the new engineering officer on the Aphrodite, having been transferred from the Antigone. She is a tall woman with dark hair and contrasting pale blue eyes, who has a very wide range of experience in ship operations and engineering. Her father, Harlan Hendricks, was the man who designed the Aphrodite, so she knows the ship needs a lot of specific training. At first, the captain did not expect her to be a woman, and managed to imply that many people found her father incompetent. Although she seemed cold at first, as she reacted to the situation, she and the captain eventually got along fairly well, as he learned to appreciate her wide skill set that ranged from engineering to piloting. Ivy and Strike also had a common enemy in the higher ranks: Space Admiral Gorman. Once Spike trusted her he appreciated that Ivy spent a lot of spare time working on the old circuits, so she knew the ship like the back of her hand. When the Aphrodite found the Lachesis and the Atropos when following up on a distress signal, Ivy new the ship well enough to be able to formulate a plan to save everyone. She piloted the Aphrodite carefully, using cables shot with a rocket to connect the three ships together, but the spinning of the ships in the heat inside meant that she passed out and had to leave Strike to take over for her. Her plan was successful; she was promoted, and instead of returning to the Aphrodite she started a design job with the Bureau of Ships."}]}, {"question_text": "What is the relationship between Strike and Aphrodite?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "0c27bef1b7b644ffba735fdb005f9529", "response_text": "Strike is a member of a famous, well-behaved, and well-trained service family. His father and grandfather served in World War II and the Atomic War, respectively. Both earned medals for their heroic service. Strike, however, did not follow in his family’s footsteps. \n\tWith a tendency to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, Strike often offended those around him and garnered a negative reputation. After being put in charge of the Ganymede, he soon lost his position after abandoning his station to rescue colonists who were not in danger. As well, he accused a Martian Ambassador of being a spy at a respectable ball. Admiral Gorman soon demoted him, and he became the commander of the Aphrodite. \n\tAt first, Strike was not a fan. He sees her as ugly, fat, and cantankerous. He misses the Ganymede, a shiny and new rocketship, and views the Aphrodite as less-than. \n\tWithin the first week of flying her, the Aphrodite had a burned steering tube, which made it necessary to go into free-fall as the damage control party made repairs. Strike’s faith in Lover-Girl continued to plummet. \n\tHowever, after Lieutenant Hendricks, the resident engineer, got her hands on the Aphrodite, Strike’s opinion started to change. Her knowledge of the ship, engineering, and piloting helped him gain confidence in both her abilities and those of Aphrodite.\nNear the end of the story, the Aphrodite is tasked with rescuing two ships that are falling into the sun. Previously Lieutenant Hendricks had fixed up the surge-circuit rheostat, and so she offered it up as the only solution. Strike agrees to try it, which shows his faith and trust in the Aphrodite. Luckily, all things go to plan, and the Aphrodite, with Strike piloting, is able to save the two ships and Admiral Gorman. \nAfter Strike won a medal himself, finally following in the family footsteps, he is offered his old position back on the Ganymede. He refuses, and instead returns to old Lover-Girl. He has grown fond of her over the course of their adventure, and they develop a partnership. "}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "04e79312dede4a0da5993101e55a796a", "response_text": "Strike is completely unimpressed by the rocket ship Aphrodite. He comments that she looks like a pregnant carp, and he knows that he’s been assigned captain of the ship because he messed up terribly on his other missions. \n\nAphrodite was built 10 years ago, and now she is completely outdated and a laughing stock compared to the other spaceships in the fleet.  She was designed by Harlan Hendricks, and the engineer received a Legion of Merit award for her design. \n\nStrike’s mission is to fly Aphrodite to take the mail from Venusport to Canalopolis, Mars. It’s boring and straightforward.\n\nWhen a disaster occurs and two other ships, the Atropos and the Lachesis, are in serious danger of getting too close to the sun, Strike agrees to take the old girl on a rescue mission. He is convinced by Ivy, since she knows the ship better than anyone else and she believes in her. \n\nAlthough Ivy takes Aphrodite most of the way there, its Strike who finishes the mission and saves his former boss, Gorman, and many other people from certain death. Aphrodite is the entire reason that Strike is able to mend his terrible reputation and he wins back respect from Gorman. Although they got off to a rocky start, Strike finds it impossible to leave his best girl, even when he is offered a job on another ship. He is loyal to the ship that made him a hero. \n"}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "71efb8636b504f42a6989bb90e360186", "response_text": "Strike is assigned to be commander of the spaceship Aphrodite. The ship is assigned as a mail carrier for the inner part of the solar system. The Aphrodite is a dilapidated design with an awful reputation. Strike ended up with the Aphrodite as a result of a series of poor professional decisions that resulted in him getting command of the more prestigious ship Ganymede taken away from him.\n\nHis initial impression of the Aphrodite softens to a grudging respect after the successful mission to save the Atropos and Lachesis. Although he presumably is in line to command the Ganymede again, another faux pas resulting in Strike continuing to command the Aphrodite.   "}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "8aa46ba8bd2945c98babd7dd2d9ecc38", "response_text": "At the beginning of the story, Strike is very reluctant to accept Aphrodite, because being in charge of the ship means a demotion for him. His perception of the ship at the beginning of the story is colored by this history, and his first impression of the ship is not a positive one, even from the outside. Besides the actual construction of the ship, the technology that ran it was not something he showed much faith in. The first week that he was in charge after leaving Venus, it seemed things were going drastically wrong. When one important piece of equipment burnt out, the ship went into freefall, requiring a lot of repair work from the engineers, and anyone in charge of navigation was handed more work because of this as well. The ship was really put to the test when the Aphrodite responded to the distress call from the Lachesis, whose crew was trying to keep the Atropos from falling into the sun. Because Ivy knew the Aphrodite so well, and had been working on the circuits, it turned out the Aphrodite was the perfect ship to save the day. She could not see the rescue all the way through to the end, because she passed out early, but Strike was conscious a little bit longer and took over until he also passed out. After this unexpected rescue mission, Cob, the Executive Officer, noted that Strike has a newfound appreciation for the ship, and has no intention of leaving. Strike is dedicated to his new mission, even though at the beginning of the story he wanted nothing more than to pilot something the same rank as his old ship."}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the setting of the story.", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "0c27bef1b7b644ffba735fdb005f9529", "response_text": "Jinx Ship to the Rescue by Alfred Coppel, Jr. takes place in space, but more specifically in the Aphrodite. \n\tIt starts in the muddy Venusport Base on Venus. Venusport is famous for its warm, slimy, and green rain that falls for 480 hours of every day. A fog rolls in and degrades visibility. \n\tDespite starting on Venusport Base, the characters actually spend most of their time onboard the Aphrodite, a Tellurian Rocket Ship. The Aphrodite had a surge-circuit monitor of twenty guns built into her frame. She was bulky, fat, and ugly, and occasionally had some technical and mechanical struggles as well. \n\tAlthough her frame may not be appealing, she soon becomes victorious as she gains the trust of Strike and other members of his crew and saves two fallen dreadnaughts. With her surge-circuit rheostat rebuilt, the Aphrodite is finally able to accomplish what she was always meant to. "}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "04e79312dede4a0da5993101e55a796a", "response_text": "The story starts on the planet of Venus. Venus has days that are 720 hours long, and rain is common. The rain is hot, slimy, and green, and it makes the already wet swamplands even more mushy. Fog is common on Venus.\n\nThe middle of the story takes place on the old and outdated ship, Aphrodite. She gives the crew members a lot of trouble on their first mission. She is in dire need of repairs, she’s slow, and it’s impossible to control her temperature. The crew members are unable to wear their uniforms because the temperature is over 100 degrees. \n\nAphrodite’s mission is simple. She needs to take the mail from Venus to Mars, and it’s the only thing she can be trusted to do successfully. So it’s very impressive when she ends up being the hero of the day and manages to rescue two other ships that are headed towards the sun. \n"}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "71efb8636b504f42a6989bb90e360186", "response_text": "The narrative is set in the early 21st century primarily aboard the spaceship Aphrodite. The ship's mission is to deliver mail in the inner part of the solar system.\n\nThe ships route takes them around the sun and as a result the ambient temperature inside the ship begins to rise to intolerable levels due to proximity to the sun. Because of the heat, the coed crew is allowed to operate with very little clothing. Aphrodite is a ship of an outdated design that gives it a lack of comfort and subjects it to numerous small problems that make its operation frustrating."}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "8aa46ba8bd2945c98babd7dd2d9ecc38", "response_text": "The story starts at a spaceport on Venus, where it has been raining for hundreds of hours straight. The rain has stopped by the time the story starts, but it is left a lot of mud in the swampy marshes. It was nearing the end of the day, and the fog was enveloping the surroundings as it grew darker outside. It was hot and sticky at Venusport Base, but after Strike left the service on his mission in the Aphrodite, it would only grow hotter on board. The ship itself, where most of the story takes place, is an older, refitted, bulky type of ship. There were only two others like it, and their designer had been awarded a Legion of Merit for the three. However, this is the only one still in use, as the others were destroyed in a much earlier mission. Strike’s disappointment in the ship seems to mirror the sentiment. Inside the ship, there are many systems of pipes connected the control panels, and the captain had to navigate carefully so that he didn’t hit his head on the bulkhead. While in space, as the ship flew closer and closer to the sun, the interior of the ship grew hotter and hotter. The crew opted to wear as little clothing as possible in an attempt to handle the heat. When the Aphrodite received the distress call from the Lachesis, the ships were close enough to the sun to be affected by its gravitational pull. After the close call near the sun, once everyone regained consciousness, the story ends at an officer’s club on Mars. It was a formal environment, and the Aphrodite’s captain and executive officer planned the rest of their route from there."}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Strike and what happens to him throughout the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "0c27bef1b7b644ffba735fdb005f9529", "response_text": "Strike is a member of an esteemed service family on Venus; seven generations of well-behaved and well-trained operators. Unfortunately, Strike struggles to carry on the family tradition, and is known for misspeaking and offending those around him. By trusting his gut, he wound up failing his higher-ups and crew several times. All this culminated in an eventual mistrust of Strike, which led to him being charged with the Aphrodite. \n\tHis deep hatred of Space Admiral Gordon is passionate, but not without reason. Gordon is the one who demoted him to the Aphrodite. At the start, Strike is checking out his new vessel and notes how ugly the ship is. After examining the ship and it’s crew, it is revealed that Strike is uncomfortable around women and believes they don’t belong on a spaceship. \n\tIn order to start flying, he calls in an expert engineer to come aboard and travel with them. Thinking I.V. Hendricks is a man, he is excited to have them onboard. But when Ivy Hendricks shows up, a female engineer and the daughter of the Aphrodite’s creator, his world is soon turned upside down. \n\tHis initial negative reaction to her is soon displaced by begrudging appreciation and eventually trust and friendship. Hendricks proves his previous theories about women wrong, and Strike is forced to accept that perhaps women do belong on a spaceship. She especially impresses him with her total knowledge of spaceship engineering and the Aphrodite in general. And it helped that she hated Admiral Gorman just as much as Strike, if not more. \n\tWhile flying by the sun to deliver mail, the Aphrodite receives a distress call from two ships: the Lachesis and the Atropos, the latter of which carried Admiral Gorman onboard. After the Aphrodite reached orbit, the Lachesis reached out and reported the Atropos was falling into the sun, due to a burst chamber. They couldn’t move those onboard over thanks to all the radiation, so the Lachesis was attempting to pull the Atropos back using an unbreakable cord. But it wasn’t enough. \n\tSince Ivy Hendricks had fixed the surge-circuit rheostat--the feature that crashed the original Aphrodite--, they were able to save the Lachesis and the Atropos and regain some of their dignity and former glory. \n\tStrike is awarded the Spatial Cross, as well as Cob, his friend and longtime executive of the Aphrodite. Strike was asked to return to the Ganymede, a beautiful sleek ship, but allegedly said the wrong thing to Gorman, and was instead sent back to the Aphrodite. Cob believes he did it on purpose, as Strike had grown quite fond of Lover-Girl. \n\tIvy has gone to the Bureau of Ships to engineer vessels, a great upgrade from her previous job. Cob pressures Strike to reach out to her, but he refuses. However, it ends on a hopeful note, with the potential for romance between Strike and Hendricks, and even more adventures on the clunky Aphrodite. "}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "04e79312dede4a0da5993101e55a796a", "response_text": "Strike’s real name is Brevet Lieutenant Commander David Farragut Strykalski III. After serving on the Ganymede, he is put in charge of the Aphrodite. He comes from many generations of officers. However, he doesn’t feel like he fits the mold of his grandfather and great-grandfather and so on. His boss, Gorman, disagreed with several decisions he made in the past and sent him to work on the Aphrodite, the unimpressive spaceship.\n\nStrike does not like working with women in space, so he is disappointed when two of his crew members are powerful and successful females. He learns his lesson after working with Ivy Hendricks for a few weeks. She impresses him with her piloting skills and her knowledge of the ship that her father designed. \n\nStrike is skeptical at first when Ivy wants to take Aphrodite to rescue two ships whose crew members are in grave danger. He knows that the mistakes he made before got him on the Aphrodite, and there’s a big chance that he’ll be fired for trying to save the day, or worse, the mission could end in death for him and all of his crew members. He has feelings for Ivy, and her intense passion convinces him that she’s right, Aphrodite can handle the mission and they can save those peoples’ lives.\n\nIvy pilots the ship almost the entire route, but she is unable to finish the job when she passes out from the intense heat. Captain Strike takes over and saves the crews on the Atropos and the Lachesis. He is hailed as a hero, and he repairs his terrible reputation with the selfless act. He decides not to leave the Aphrodite. He wants to be loyal to the ship that worked so hard for him. He does decide to give Ivy a call. Even though she outranks him, he has to admit that he has a crush on her. "}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "71efb8636b504f42a6989bb90e360186", "response_text": "Strike is the commander of the Aphrodite. He was originally the commander of the prestigious Ganymede. However a number of decisions made out of bravado as well as some unprofessional comments lost him that command.\n\nNow in command of a dilapidated ship, Strike comes to terms with his job. He commands a crew including a large number of women which makes him somewhat uncomfortable. His engineering officer Ivy Hendricks in particular seems to be of romantic interest to Strike.\n\nStrike ends up teaming with Ivy to save two ships from falling into the sun earning him a small promotion but an ill-advised comment prevents him from leaving the Aphrodite, perhaps to the satisfaction of Strike himself."}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "8aa46ba8bd2945c98babd7dd2d9ecc38", "response_text": "Strike is a highly decorated lieutenant commander in the Navy, who comes from a long line of ship operators. Although he has run many successful missions, he has a reputation of causing trouble—his new Executive Officer, Cob, has heard a number of stories that he asks Strike for details about. Strike has lost command of the ship that he had been captaining, and is sent by Admiral Gorman to captain a mail route on the Aphrodite. He is extremely hesitant to have any positive feelings about the experience, from the ship itself, to the inclusion of women on its crew. Not only is this not the type of ship he is used to, he is never served with women on board. He has to navigate adapting to the new situation while adapting to the new job. Through the first week of his assignment, the ship and its crew grow on him. He comes to trust Ivy Hendricks, the Engineering Officer, and he lets her take charge to try to save the other ships when they respond to a distress call. Eventually, she passes out, and has to leave Strike in charge of getting the ships to safety. Eventually,  Strike passes out just like everyone else, from the ship’s acceleration to break the sun’s gravity. At the end of the story, it is clear that his increased appreciation for the ship means he plans on staying, to the delight of his Executive Officer. Cob alludes to Strike having feelings for Ivy, but he says that although she is nice, he has no interest in being with a woman with a higher ranked title than he has. "}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "63392", "uid": "a337a1e6bff94501af5dc059076eec79", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "\n\n\n\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\nDoorway to Kal-Jmar\nBy Stuart Fleming\nTwo men had died before Syme Rector's guns\n   \n  to give him the key to the ancient city of\n   \n  Kal-Jmar—a city of untold wealth, and of\n   \n  robots that made desires instant commands.\n \n  [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from\n   \n  Planet Stories Winter 1944.\n   \n  Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\n   \n  the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\nThe tall man loitered a moment before a garish window display, his eyes\nimpassive in his space-burned face, as the Lillis patrolman passed.\nThen he turned, burying his long chin in the folds of his sand cape,\nand took up the pursuit of the dark figure ahead once more.\n \n  Above, the city's multicolored lights were reflected from the\ntranslucent Dome—a distant, subtly distorted Lillis, through which the\nstars shone dimly.\n \n  Getting through that dome had been his first urgent problem, but now he\nhad another, and a more pressing one. It had been simple enough to pass\nhimself off as an itinerant prospector and gain entrance to the city,\nafter his ship had crashed in the Mare Cimmerium. But the rest would\nnot be so simple. He had to acquire a spaceman's identity card, and he\nhad to do it fast. It was only a matter of time until the Triplanet\nPatrol gave up the misleading trail he had made into the hill country,\nand concluded that he must have reached Lillis. After that, his only\nsafety lay in shipping out on a freighter as soon as possible. He had\nto get off Mars, because his trail was warm, and the Patrol thorough.\n \n  They knew, of course, that he was an outlaw—the very fact of the\ncrashed, illegally-armed ship would have told them that. But they\ndidn't know that he was Syme Rector, the most-wanted and most-feared\nraider in the System. In that was his only advantage.\n \n  He walked a little faster, as his quarry turned up a side street and\nthen boarded a moving ramp to an upper level. He watched until the\nshort, wide-shouldered figure in spaceman's harness disappeared over\nthe top of the ramp, and then followed.\n \n  The man was waiting for him at the mouth of the ascending tunnel.\n \n  Syme looked at him casually, without a flicker of expression, and\nstarted to walk on, but the other stepped into his path. He was quite\nyoung, Syme saw, with a fighter's shoulders under the white leather,\nand a hard, determined thrust to his firm jaw.\n \n  \"All right,\" the boy said quietly. \"What is it?\"\n \n  \"I don't understand,\" Syme said.\n \n  \"The game, the angle. You've been following me. Do you want trouble?\"\n \n  \"Why, no,\" Syme told him bewilderedly. \"I haven't been following you.\nI—\"\n \n  The boy knuckled his chin reflectively. \"You could be lying,\" he said\nfinally. \"But maybe I've made a mistake.\" Then—\"Okay, citizen, you can\nclear—but don't let me catch you on my tail again.\"\n \n  Syme murmured something and turned away, feeling the spaceman's eyes\non the small of his back until he turned the corner. At the next\nstreet he took a ramp up, crossed over and came down on the other side\na block away. He waited until he saw the boy's broad figure pass the\nintersection, and then followed again more cautiously.\n \n  It was risky, but there was no other way. The signatures, the data,\neven the photograph on the card could be forged once Syme got his hands\non it, but the identity card itself—that oblong of dark diamondite,\nglowing with the tiny fires of radioactivity—that could not be\nimitated, and the only way to get it was to kill.\n \n  Up ahead was the Founders' Tower, the tallest building in Lillis. The\nboy strode into the entrance lobby, bought a ticket for the observation\nplatform, and took the elevator. As soon as his car was out of sight in\nthe transparent tube, Syme followed. He put a half-credit slug into the\nmachine, took the punctured slip of plastic that came out. The ticket\nwent into a scanning slot in the wall of the car, and the elevator\nwhisked him up.\nThe tower was high, more than a hundred meters above the highest level\nof the city, and the curved dome that kept air in Lillis was close\noverhead. Syme looked up, after his first appraising glance about the\nplatform, and saw the bright-blue pinpoint of Earth. The sight stirred\na touch of nostalgia in him, as it always did, but he put it aside.\n \n  The boy was hunched over the circular balustrade a little distance\naway. Except for him, the platform was empty. Syme loosened his slim,\ndeadly energy pistol in its holster and padded catlike toward the\nsilent figure.\n \n  It was over in a minute. The boy whirled as he came up, warned by\nsome slight sound, or by the breath of Syme's passage in the still\nair. He opened his mouth to shout, and brought up his arm in a swift,\ninstinctive gesture. But the blow never landed. Syme's pistol spat its\nsilent white pencil of flame, and the boy crumpled to the floor with a\nminute, charred hole in the white leather over his chest.\nSyme stooped over him swiftly, found a thick wallet and thrust it into\nhis pocket without a second glance. Then he raised the body in his arms\nand thrust it over the parapet.\n \n  It fell, and in the same instant Syme felt a violent tug at his wrist.\nBefore he could move to stop himself, he was over the edge. Too late,\nhe realized what had happened—one of the hooks on the dead spaceman's\nharness had caught the heavy wristband of his chronometer. He was\nfalling, linked to the body of his victim!\n \n  Hardly knowing what he did, he lashed out wildly with his other arm,\nfelt his fingertips catch and bite into the edge of the balustrade. His\nbody hit the wall of the tower with a thump, and, a second later, the\ncorpse below him hit the wall. Then they both hung there, swaying a\nlittle and Syme's fingers slipped a little with each motion.\n \n  Gritting his teeth, he brought the magnificent muscles of his arm into\nplay, raising the forearm against the dead weight of the dangling body.\nFraction by slow fraction of an inch, it came up. Syme could feel the\nsweat pouring from his brow, running saltily into his eyes. His arms\nfelt as if they were being torn from their sockets. Then the hook\nslipped free, and the tearing, unbearable weight vanished.\n \n  The reaction swung Syme against the building again, and he almost\nlost his slippery hold on the balustrade. After a moment he heard the\nspaceman's body strike with a squashy thud, somewhere below.\n \n  He swung up his other arm, got a better grip on the balustrade. He\ntried cautiously to get a leg up, but the motion loosened his hold on\nthe smooth surface again. He relaxed, thinking furiously. He could hold\non for another minute at most; then it was the final blast-off.\n \n  He heard running footsteps, and then a pale face peered over the ledge\nat him. He realized suddenly that the whole incident could have taken\nonly a few seconds. He croaked, \"Get me up.\"\n \n  Wordlessly, the man clasped thin fingers around his wrist. The other\npulled, with much puffing and panting, and with his help Syme managed\nto get a leg over the edge and hoist his trembling body to safety.\n \n  \"Are you all right?\"\nSyme looked at the man, nursing the tortured muscles of his arms. His\nrescuer was tall and thin, of indeterminate age. He had light, sandy\nhair, a sharp nose, and—oddly conflicting—pale, serious eyes and a\nhumorous wide mouth. He was still panting.\n \n  \"I'm not hurt,\" Syme said. He grinned, his white teeth flashing in his\ndark, lean face. \"Thanks for giving me a hand.\"\n \n  \"You scared hell out of me,\" said the man. \"I heard a thud. I\nthought—you'd gone over.\" He looked at Syme questioningly.\n \n  \"That was my bag,\" the outlaw said quickly. \"It slipped out of my hand,\nand I overbalanced myself when I grabbed for it.\"\n \n  The man sighed. \"I need a drink.\nYou\nneed a drink. Come on.\" He\npicked up a small black suitcase from the floor and started for the\nelevator, then stopped. \"Oh—your bag. Shouldn't we do something about\nthat?\"\n \n  \"Never mind,\" said Syme, taking his arm. \"The shock must have busted it\nwide open. My laundry is probably all over Lillis by now.\"\n \n  They got off at the amusement level, three tiers down, and found a\ncafe around the corner. Syme wasn't worried about the man he had just\nkilled. He had heard no second thud, so the body must have stayed on\nthe first outcropping of the tower it struck. It probably wouldn't be\nfound until morning.\n \n  And he had the wallet. When he paid for the first round of\nculcha\n, he\ntook it out and stole a glance at the identification card inside. There\nit was—his ticket to freedom. He began feeling expansive, and even\nfriendly toward the slender, mouse-like man across the table. It was\nthe\nculcha\n, of course. He knew it, and didn't care. In the morning\nhe'd find a freighter berth—in as big a spaceport as Lillis, there\nwere always jobs open. Meanwhile, he might as well enjoy himself, and\nit was safer to be seen with a companion than to be alone.\n \n  He listened lazily to what the other was saying, leaning his tall,\ngraceful body back into the softly-cushioned seat.\n \n  \"Lissen,\" said Harold Tate. He leaned forward on one elbow, slipped,\ncaught himself, and looked at the elbow reproachfully. \"Lissen,\" he\nsaid again, \"I trust you, Jones. You're obvi-obviously an adventurer,\nbut you have an honest face. I can't see it very well at the moment,\nbut I hic!—pardon—seem to recall it as an honest face. I'm going to\ntell you something, because I need your help!—help.\" He paused. \"I\nneed a guide. D'you know this part of Mars well?\"\n \n  \"Sure,\" said Syme absently. Out in the center of the floor, an AG\nplate had been turned on. Five Venusian girls were diving and twisting\nin its influence, propelling themselves by the motion of their\ndelicately-webbed feet and trailing long gauzy streamers of synthesilk\nafter them. Syme watched them through narrowed lids, feeling the glow\nof\nculcha\ninside him.\n \n  \"I wanta go to Kal-Jmar,\" said Tate.\n \n  Syme snapped to attention, every nerve tingling. An indefinable sense,\na hunch that had served him well before, told him that something big\nwas coming—something that promised adventure and loot for Syme Rector.\n\"Why?\" he asked softly. \"Why to Kal-Jmar?\"\n \n  Harold Tate told him, and later, when Syme had taken him to his rooms,\nhe showed him what was in his little black suitcase. Syme had been\nright; it was big.\nKal-Jmar was the riddle of the Solar System. It was the only remaining\ncity of the ancient Martian race—the race that, legends said, had\nrisen to greater heights than any other Solar culture. The machines,\nthe artifacts, the records of the Martians were all there, perfectly\npreserved inside the city's bubble-like dome, after God knew how many\nthousands of years. But they couldn't be reached.\n \n  For Kal-Jmar's dome was not the thing of steelite that protected\nLillis: it was a tenuous, globular field of force that defied analysis\nas it defied explosives and diamond drills. The field extended both\nabove and below the ground, and tunneling was of no avail. No one knew\nwhat had happened to the Martians, whether they were the ancestors of\nthe present decadent Martian race, or a different species. No one knew\nanything about them or about Kal-Jmar.\n \n  In the early days, when the conquest of Mars was just beginning, Earth\nscientists had been wild to get into the city. They had observed it\nfrom every angle, taken photographs of its architecture and the robots\nthat still patrolled its fantastically winding streets, and then they\nhad tried everything they knew to pierce the wall.\n \n  Later, however, when every unsuccessful attempt had precipitated a\nbloody uprising of the present-day Martians—resulting in a rapid\ndwindling of the number of Martians—the Mars Protectorate had stepped\nin and forbidden any further experiments; forbidden, in fact, any\nEarthman to go near the place.\n \n  Thus matter had stood for over a hundred years, until Harold Tate.\nTate, a physicist, had stumbled on a field that seemed to be identical\nin properties to the Kal-Jmar dome; and what is more, he had found a\nforce that would break it down.\n \n  And so he had made his first trip to Mars, and within twenty-four\nhours, by the blindest of chances, blurted out his secret to Syme\nRector, the scourge of the spaceways, the man with a thousand credits\non his sleek, tigerish head.\n \n  Syme's smile was not tigerish now; it was carefully, studiedly mild.\nFor Tate was no longer drunk, and it was important that it should not\noccur to him that he had been indiscreet.\n \n  \"This is native territory we're coming to, Harold,\" he said. \"Better\nstrap on your gun.\"\n \n  \"Why. Are they really dangerous?\"\n \n  \"They're unpredictable,\" Syme told him. \"They're built differently, and\nthey think differently. They breathe like us, down in their caverns\nwhere there's air, but they also eat sand, and get their oxygen that\nway.\"\n \n  \"Yes, I've heard about that,\" Tate said. \"Iron oxide—very interesting\nmetabolism.\" He got his energy pistol out of the compartment and\nstrapped it on absently.\n \n  Syme turned the little sand car up a gentle rise towards the tortuous\nhill country in the distance. \"Not only that,\" he continued. \"They\neat the damndest stuff. Lichens and fungi and tumble-grass off the\ndeserts—all full of deadly poisons, from arsenic up the line to\nxopite. They seem intelligent enough—in their own way—but they never\ncome near our cities and they either can't or won't learn Terrestrial.\nWhen the first colonists came here, they had to learn\ntheir\ncrazy\nlanguage. Every word of it can mean any one of a dozen different\nthings, depending on the inflection you give it. I can speak it some,\nbut not much. Nobody can. We don't think the same.\"\n \n  \"So you think they might attack us?\" Tate asked again, nervously.\n \n  \"They\nmight\ndo anything,\" Syme said curtly. \"Don't worry about it.\"\n \n  The hills were much closer than they had seemed, because of Mars'\ndeceptively low horizon. In half an hour they were in the midst of a\nwilderness of fantastically eroded dunes and channels, laboring on\nsliding treads up the sides of steep hills only to slither down again\non the other side.\nSyme stopped the car abruptly as a deep, winding channel appeared\nacross their path. \"Gully,\" he announced. \"Shall we cross it, or follow\nit?\"\n \n  Tate peered through the steelite nose of the car. \"Follow, I guess,\"\nhe offered. \"It seems to go more or less where we're going, and if we\ncross it we'll only come to a couple dozen more.\"\n \n  Syme nodded and moved the sand car up to the edge of the gully. Then he\npressed a stud on the control board; a metal arm extruded from the tail\nof the car and a heavy spike slowly unscrewed from it, driving deep\ninto the sand. A light on the board flashed, indicating that the spike\nwas in and would bear the car's weight, and Syme started the car over\nthe edge.\n \n  As the little car nosed down into the gully, the metal arm left behind\nrevealed itself to be attached to a length of thick, very strong wire\ncable, with a control cord inside. They inched down the almost vertical\nincline, unreeling the cable behind them, and starting minor landslides\nas they descended.\n \n  Finally they touched bottom. Syme pressed another stud, and above, the\nmetal spike that had supported them screwed itself out of the ground\nagain and the cable reeled in.\n \n  Tate had been watching with interest. \"Very ingenious,\" he said. \"But\nhow do we get up again?\"\n \n  \"Most of these gullies peter out gradually,\" said Syme, \"but if we want\nor have to climb out where it's deep, we have a little harpoon gun that\nshoots the anchor up on top.\"\n \n  \"Good. I shouldn't like to stay down here for the rest of my\nnatural life. Depressing view.\" He looked up at the narrow strip of\nalmost-black sky visible from the floor of the gully, and shook his\nhead.\n \n  Neither Syme nor Tate ever had a chance to test the efficiency of their\nharpoon gun. They had traveled no more than five hundred meters, and\nthe gully was as deep as ever, when Tate, looking up, saw a deeper\nblackness blot out part of the black sky directly overhead. He shouted,\n\"Look out!\" and grabbed for the nearest steering lever.\n \n  The car wheeled around in a half circle and ran into the wall of the\ngully. Syme was saying, \"What—?\" when there was a thunderous crash\nthat shook the sturdy walls of the car, as a huge boulder smashed into\nthe ground immediately to their left.\n \n  When the smoky red dust had cleared away, they saw that the left tread\nof the sand car was crushed beyond all recognition.\n \n  Syme was cursing slowly and steadily with a deep, seething anger. Tate\nsaid, \"I guess we walk from here on.\" Then he looked up again and\ncaught a glimpse of the horde of beasts that were rushing up the gully\ntoward them.\n \n  \"My God!\" he said. \"What are those?\"\n \n  Syme looked. \"Those,\" he said bitterly, \"are Martians.\"\n \n  The natives, like all Martian fauna, were multi-legged. Also like all\nMartian fauna, they moved so fast that you couldn't see how many legs\nthey did have. Actually, however, the natives had six legs apiece—or,\nmore properly, four legs and two arms. Their lungs were not as large\nas they appeared, being collapsed at the moment. What caused the bulge\nthat made their torsos look like sausages was a huge air bladder, with\na valve arrangement from the stomach and feeding directly into the\nbloodstream.\n \n  Their faces were vaguely canine, but the foreheads were high, and the\nlips were not split. They did resemble dogs, in that their thick black\nfur was splotched with irregulate patches of white. These patches of\nwhite were subject to muscular control and could be spread out fanwise;\nor, conversely, the black could be expanded to cover the white, which\nhelped to take care of the extremes of Martian temperature. Right now\nthey were mostly black.\n \n  The natives slowed down and spread out to surround the wrecked sand\ncar, and it could be seen that most of them were armed with spears,\nalthough some had the slim Benson energy guns—strictly forbidden to\nMartians.\n \n  Syme stopped cursing and watched tensely. Tate said nothing, but he\nswallowed audibly.\n \n  One Martian, who looked exactly like all the rest, stepped forward and\nmotioned unmistakably for the two to come out. He waited a moment and\nthen gestured with his energy gun. That gun, Syme knew from experience,\ncould burn through a small thickness of steelite if held on the same\nspot long enough.\n\"Come on,\" Syme said grimly. He rose and reached for a pressure suit,\nand Tate followed him.\n \n  \"What do you think they'll—\" he began, and then stopped himself. \"I\nknow. They're unpredictable.\"\n \n  \"Yeah,\" said Syme, and opened the door. The air in the car\nwhooshed\ninto the near-vacuum outside, and he and Tate stepped out.\n \n  The Martian leader looked at them enigmatically, then turned and\nstarted off. The other natives closed in on them, and they all bounded\nalong under the weak gravity.\n \n  They bounded along for what Syme figured as a good kilometer and a\nhalf, and they then reached a branch in the gully and turned down\nit, going lower all the time. Under the light of their helmet lamps,\nthey could see the walls of the gully—a tunnel, now—getting darker\nand more solid. Finally, when Syme estimated they were about nine\nkilometers down, there was even a suggestion of moisture.\n \n  The tunnel debouched at last into a large cavern. There was a\nphosphorescent gleam from fungus along the walls, but Syme couldn't\ndecide how far away the far wall was. He noticed something else, though.\n \n  \"There's air here,\" he said to Tate. \"I can see dust motes in it.\" He\nswitched his helmet microphone from radio over to the audio membrane\non the outside of the helmet. \"\nKalis methra\n,\" he began haltingly,\n\"\nseltin guna getal.\n\"\n \n  \"Yes, there is air here,\" said the Martian leader, startlingly. \"Not\nenough for your use, however, so do not open your helmets.\"\n \n  Syme swore amazedly.\n \n  \"I thought you said they didn't speak Terrestrial,\" Tate said. Syme\nignored him.\n \n  \"We had our reasons for not doing so,\" the Martian said.\n \n  \"But how—?\"\n \n  \"We are telepaths, of course. On a planet which is nearly airless on\nits surface, we have to be. A tendency of the Terrestrial mind is to\nignore the obvious. We have not had a spoken language of our own for\nseveral thousand years.\"\n \n  He darted a glance at Syme's darkly scowling face. His own hairy face\nwas expressionless, but Syme sensed that he was amused. \"Yes, you're\nright,\" he said. \"The language you and your fellows struggled to learn\nis a fraud, a hodge-podge concocted to deceive you.\"\n \n  Tate looked interested. \"But why this—this gigantic masquerade?\"\n \n  \"You had nothing to give us,\" the Martian said simply.\n \n  Tate frowned, then flushed. \"You mean you avoided revealing yourselves\nbecause you—had nothing to gain from mental intercourse with us?\"\n \n  \"Yes.\"\n \n  Tate thought again. \"But—\"\n \n  \"No,\" the Martian interrupted him, \"revealing the extent of our\ncivilization would have spared us nothing at your people's hands. Yours\nis an imperialist culture, and you would have had Mars, whether you\nthought you were taking it from equals or not.\"\n \n  \"Never mind that,\" Syme broke in impatiently. \"What do you want with\nus?\"\n \n  The Martian looked at him appraisingly. \"You already suspect.\nUnfortunately, you must die.\"\nIt was a weird situation, Syme thought. His mind was racing, but as yet\nhe could see no way out. He began to wonder, if he did, could he keep\nthe Martians from knowing about it? Then he realized that the Martian\nmust have received that thought, too, and he was enraged. He stood,\nholding himself in check with an effort.\n \n  \"Will you tell us why?\" Tate asked.\n \n  \"You were brought here for that purpose. It is part of our conception\nof justice. I will tell you and your—friend—anything you wish to\nknow.\"\n \n  Syme noticed that the other Martians had retired to the farther side of\nthe cavern. Some were munching the glowing fungus. That left only the\nleader, who was standing alertly on all fours a short distance away\nfrom them, holding the Benson gun trained on them. Syme tried not to\nthink about the gun, especially about making a grab for it. It was like\ntrying not to think of the word \"hippopotamus.\"\n \n  Tate squatted down comfortably on the floor of the cavern, apparently\nunconcerned, but his hands were trembling slightly. \"First why—\" he\nbegan.\n \n  \"There are many secrets in Kal-Jmar,\" the Martian said, \"among them a\nvery simple catalyzing agent which could within fifty years transform\nMars to a planet with Terrestrially-thick atmosphere.\"\n \n  \"I think I see,\" Tate said thoughtfully. \"That's been the ultimate aim\nall along, but so far the problem has us licked. If we solved it, then\nwe'd have all of Mars, not just the cities. Your people would die out.\nYou couldn't have that, of course.\"\n \n  He sighed deeply. He spread his gloved hands before him and looked\nat them with a queer intentness. \"Well—how about the Martians—the\nKal-Jmar Martians, I mean? I'd dearly love to know the answer to that\none.\"\n \n  \"Neither of the alternatives in your mind is correct. They were not a\nseparate species, although they were unlike us. But they were not our\nancestors, either. They were the contemporaries of our ancestors.\"\n \n  \"Several thousand years ago Mars' loss of atmosphere began to make\nitself felt. There were two ways out. Some chose to seal themselves\ninto cities like Kal-Jmar; our ancestors chose to adapt their bodies to\nthe new conditions. Thus the race split. Their answer to the problem\nwas an evasion; they remained static. Our answer was the true one, for\nwe progressed. We progressed beyond the need of science; they remained\nits slaves. They died of a plague—and other causes.\n \n  \"You see,\" he finished gently, \"our deception has caused a natural\nconfusion in your minds. They were the degenerates, not we.\"\n \n  \"And yet,\" Tate mused, \"you are being destroyed by contact with\nan—inferior—culture.\"\n \n  \"We hope to win yet,\" the Martian said.\n \n  Tate stood up, his face very white. \"Tell me one thing,\" he begged.\n\"Will our two races ever live together in amity?\"\n \n  The Martian lowered his head. \"That is for unborn generations.\" He\nlooked at Tate again and aimed the energy gun. \"You are a brave man,\"\nhe said. \"I am sorry.\"\n \n  Syme saw all his hopes of treasure and glory go glimmering down the\nsights of the Martian's Benson gun, and suddenly the pent-up rage in\nhim exploded. Too swiftly for his intention to be telegraphed, before\nhe knew himself what he meant to do, he hurled himself bodily into the\nMartian.\nIt was like tangling with a draft horse. The Martian was astonishingly\nstrong. Syme scrambled desperately for the gun, got it, but couldn't\ntear it out of the Martian's fingers. And all the time he could almost\nfeel the Martian's telepathic call for help surging out. He heard the\nswift pad of his followers coming across the cavern.\n \n  He put everything he had into one mighty, murderous effort. Every\nmuscle fiber in his superbly trained body crackled and surged with\npower. He roared his fury. And the gun twisted out of the Martian's\niron grip!\n \n  He clubbed the prostrate leader with it instantly, then reversed the\nweapon and snapped a shot at the nearest Martian. The creature dropped\nhis lance and fell without a sound.\n \n  The next instant a ray blinked at him, and he rolled out of the way\nbarely in time. The searing ray cut a swath over the leader's body and\nswerved to cut down on him. Still rolling, he fired at the holder of\nthe weapon. The gun dropped and winked out on the floor.\n \n  Syme jumped to his feet and faced his enemies, snarling like the\ntrapped tiger he was. Another ray slashed at him, and he bent lithely\nto let it whistle over his head. Another, lower this time. He flipped\nhis body into the air and landed upright, his gun still blazing. His\nright leg burned fiercely from a ray-graze, but he ignored it. And\nall the while he was mowing down the massed natives in great swaths,\nseeking out the ones armed with Bensons in swift, terrible slashes,\ndodging spears and other missiles in midair, and roaring at the top of\nhis powerful lungs.\n \n  At last there were none with guns left to oppose him. He scythed down\nthe rest in two terrible, lightning sweeps of his ray, then dropped\nthe weapon from blistered fingers.\n \n  He was gasping for breath, and realized that he was losing air from\nthe seared-open right leg of his suit. He reached for the emergency\nkit at his side, drawing in great, gasping breaths, and fumbled out\na tube of sealing liquid. He spread the stuff on liberally, smearing\nit impartially over flesh and fabric. It felt like liquid hell on the\nburned, bleeding leg, but he kept on until the quick-drying fluid\nformed an airtight patch.\n \n  Only then did he turn, to see Tate flattened against the wall behind\nhim, his hands empty at his sides. \"I'm sorry,\" Tate said miserably. \"I\ncould have grabbed a spear or something, but—I just couldn't, not even\nto save my own life. I—I halfway hoped they'd kill both of us.\"\n \n  Syme glared at him and spat, too enraged to think of diplomacy. He\nturned and strode out of the cavern, carrying his right leg stiffly,\nbut with his feral, tigerish head held high.\n \n  He led the way, wordlessly, back to the wrecked sand car. Tate followed\nhim with a hangdog, beaten air, as though he had just found something\nthat shattered all his previous concepts of the verities in life, and\ndidn't know what to do about it.\n \n  Still silently, Syme refilled his oxygen tank, watched Tate do the\nsame, and then picked up two spare tanks and the precious black\nsuitcase and handed one of the tanks to Tate. Then he stumped around\nto the back of the car and inspected the damage. The cable reel, which\nmight have drawn them out of the gully, was hopelessly smashed. That\nwas that.\nThey started off down the canyon, Syme urging the slighter man to\na fast clip, even though his leg was already stiffening. When they\nfinally reached a climbable spot, Syme was limping badly and Tate was\nobviously exhausted.\n \n  They clambered wearily out onto the level sands again just as the\nsmall, blazing sun was setting. \"Luck,\" grunted Syme. \"Our only chance\nof getting near the city is at night.\" He peered around, shading his\neyes from the sun's glare with a gauntleted hand. \"See that?\"\n \n  Following his pointing finger, Tate saw a faint, ephemeral arc showing\nabove a line of low hills in the distance. \"Kal-Jmar,\" said Syme.\n \n  Tate brightened a little. His body was too filled with fatigue for his\nmind to do any work on the problem that was baffling him, and so it\nreceded into the back of his mind.\n \n  \"Kal-Jmar,\" whispered Syme again.\n \n  There was no twilight. The sun dropped abruptly behind the low horizon,\nand darkness fell, sudden and absolute. Syme picked up the extra oxygen\ntank and the suitcase, checked his direction by a wrist compass, and\nstarted toward the hills. Tate rose wearily to his feet and followed\nagain.\n \n  Two hours later, Kal-Jmar stood before them. They had wormed their\nway past the sentry posts, doing most of the last two hundred meters\non all fours. With skill and luck, and with Syme's fierce, burning\ndetermination, they had managed to escape detection—and there they\nwere. Journey's end.\n \n  Tate stared up at the shining, starlight towers in speechless\nadmiration. If the people who had built this city had been decadent,\nstill their architecture was magnificent. The city was a rhapsody made\nsolid. There was a sense of decay about it, he thought, but it was the\ndecay of supreme beauty, caught at the very verge of dissolution and\npreserved for all eternity.\n \n  \"Well?\" demanded Syme.\n \n  Tate started, shaken out of his dream. He looked down at the black\nsuitcase, a little wonderingly, and then pulled it to him and opened it.\n \n  Inside, carefully wrapped in shock-absorbing tissue, was a fragile\ncontrivance of many tubes and wires, and a tiny parabolic mirror. It\nhad a brand new Elecorp 210 volt battery, and it needed every volt of\nthat tremendous power. Tate made the connections, his hands trembling\nslightly, and set it up on a telescoping tripod. Syme watched him\nclosely, his big body tensed with expectation.\n \n  The field was before them, shimmering faintly in the starlight. It\nlooked unsubstantial as the stuff of dreams, but both men knew that no\npower man possessed, unless it was the thing Tate held, could penetrate\nthat screen.\n \n  Tate set the mechanism up close to the field, aimed it very delicately,\nand closed a minute switch. After a long second, he opened it again.\n \n  Nothing happened.\n \n  The screen was still there, as unsubstantial and as solid as ever.\nThere was no change.\nTate looked worriedly at his wiring, a deep wrinkle appearing between\nhis pale, serious eyes. Syme stood stock-still but quivering with\nrepressed energy, scowling like a thundercloud.\n \n  \"It must be capable of working,\" Tate told himself querulously. \"The\nMartians knew—they wouldn't have tried to stop us if—Wait a minute.\"\nHe paced back and forth, biting his lip. Syme watched him with catlike\neyes, clenching and unclenching his great fists.\n \n  Tate paused. \"I think I have it,\" he said slowly. \"I haven't enough\npower to hetrodyne the whole screen, although that's theoretically\npossible. But there must be weaker portions of the field—doors—set\nto open on the impact of a beam like this one. But I've only got power\nenough for two more tries. Jones, where would you put an entrance, if\nyou'd built Kal-Jmar?\"\n \n  Syme's eyes widened, and he stared around slowly. \"A thousand years\nago?\" he muttered. \"Two thousand? These hills were raised in five\nhundred. We can't go by topography.\n \n  \"In front of one of the main arteries, then. But there are dozens, no\none larger than the other. Did they have dozens of doors?\"\n \n  \"Maybe,\" said Tate. He pointed to the right, where the fairy towers of\nKal-Jmar swept aside to leave a broad avenue. \"It's the nearest—as\ngood as any other.\"\n \n  They walked over to it in silence, and in silence Tate set up his\nequipment once more. He shifted it from side to side, squinting, until\nhe had it lined up exactly on the center of the avenue. Then he took a\nlong breath, and closed the switch again.\n \n  The switch came up. Syme stared with fierce eagerness, eyes ablaze. For\na moment there was nothing, and then—\n \n  Tate clutched the big man's arm. \"Look!\" he breathed.\n \n  Where the ray from Tate's machine had impinged, a faintly-glowing\nspot of violet radiance! As they watched it widened, dilating into a\nperfect circle of violet, enclosing nothingness. The door was opening.\n \n  \"It worked,\" Tate said softly. \"It worked!\"\n \n  Syme shook off his grip impatiently, put his hand to the gun in the\nholster of his suit. Tate was still watching, fascinated. \"Look,\" he\nsaid again. \"The color is changing slightly, falling down the spectrum.\nI think that's a warning signal. When it reaches red, the door will\nclose.\" He moved toward the widening door, like a sleepwalker.\n \n  \"Wait,\" Syme said hoarsely. \"You forgot the machine.\"\n \n  Tate turned, said, \"Oh yes,\" and walked back. Then he saw the gun in\nSyme's hand. His jaw dropped slightly, but he didn't say anything. He\njust stood there, looking dumbly from the gun to Syme's dark face.\n \n  Syme shot him carefully in the chest.\n \n  He dropped like a rag doll, but Syme's aim had been bad. He wasn't dead\nyet. He rolled his eyes up, like a child. His lips moved. In spite of\nhimself, Syme bent forward to listen.\n \n  \"\nYou'll be\n—\nsorry\n,\" Tate said, and died.\n \n  Air was sighing out through the widening hole in the screen. Syme\nstraightened and smiled tolerantly. For a moment, he had been\nunreasonably afraid of what Tate was about to say. Some detail he had\nforgotten, perhaps, something that would trap him now that Tate, the\nman who knew the answers, was dead. But—he'd be sorry!\n \n  For what? Another dead fool?\n \n  He gathered up the delicate mechanism in one arm, and, filling his deep\nlungs, stepped forward through the opening.\nThe towers of dead Kal-Jmar loomed over him in the dusk as he strode\nlike a conqueror down the long-deserted avenue. The city was full of\nthe whisperings of Kal-Jmar's ancient wraiths, but they touched only\na corner of his mind. He was filled to overflowing with the bright,\nglowing joy of conquest. The city was his!\n \n  His boots trod an avenue where no foot had fallen these untold eons,\nyet there was no dust. The city was bright and furbished waiting for\nhim. He was intoxicated.\nThe city was his!\nThere was a gentle ramp leading upward, and Syme followed it, breathing\nin the manufactured air of his pressure suit like wine. All around him,\nthe city blazed with treasures beyond price.\nIt was his!\nThe ramp led to a portal set in the side of a shining needle of a\nbuilding. Syme strode up to the threshold, and the door dilated for\nhim. He stepped inside; the door closed and a soft light glowed on.\n \n  There was air here: good, breathable air. A tiny zephyr of it was\nblowing from some hidden source against his body. Greatly daring, he\nunfastened the helmet of his suit and flung it back. He breathed in a\nlungful of it. God, but it was good after that canned stuff! It was a\nlittle heady; it made his head swim—but it was good air, excellent air!\n \n  He looked around him, measuring, assessing for the first time. This\nroom alone was worth a fortune. There was platinum; in ornaments, set\ninto the walls, in furniture. That would be enough to buy the little\nthings—a new ship, or perhaps even immunity back on Earth. But that\nwas as nothing to the rest of it, the things three worlds would clamor\nfor—the artifacts, the record books, the machines!\n \n  He strode about the room, building plan on grandiose plan. He could\ntake back only a little with him at first; but he could return again\nand again, with Tate's mechanism and new batteries. But he'd explore\nthe city thoroughly before he left. Somewhere there must be weapons. An\ninvincible weapon, perhaps, that a man could carry in his hand. Perhaps\neven a perfect body screen. With that he wouldn't have to steal away\nfrom Mars on a freighter, hiding his loot and his greatness in a dingy\nengine room. He could walk into a Triplanet ship and order its captain\nto take him wherever he chose to go!\nHe stood then in the middle of the room, arms akimbo, his head swimming\nwith glory—and remembered suddenly that he was hungry. He felt in the\ncontainer of his helmet, extracted a couple of food tablets, and popped\nthem into his mouth.\n \n  They would take care of his needs, but they didn't satisfy his hunger.\nNo food tablets for him after this! Steaks, wines, souffles.... His\nmouth began to water at the very thought.\n \n  And then the robot rolled on soundless wheels into the room. Syme\nwhirled and saw it only when it was almost upon him. The thing was\nremarkably lifelike, and for a moment he was startled.\n \n  But it was not alive. It was only a Martian feeding-machine, kept in\nrepair all these millennia by other robots. It was not intelligent,\nand so it did not know that its masters would never return. It did not\nknow, either, that Syme was not a Martian, or that he wanted a steak,\nand not the distilled liquor of the\nxopa\nfungus, which still grew in\nthe subterranean gardens of Kal-Jmar. It was capable only of receiving\nthe mental impulse of hunger, and of responding to that impulse.\n \n  And so when Syme saw it and opened his mouth in startlement, the\nrobot acted as it had done with its degenerate, slothful masters. Its\nflexible feeding tube darted out and half down the man's gullet before\nhe could move to avoid it. And down Syme Rector's throat poured a flood\nof\nxopa\n-juice, nectar to Martians, but swift, terrible death to human\nbeings....\n \n  Outside, the last doorway to Kal-Jmar closed forever, across from the\ncold body of Tate.\n", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "3", "uid": "109a5f45515c40358c74e170e54c8c7c", "response_text": "Syme Rector is the most-wanted raider in the Triplanet Patrol system and wants access to the ancient Martian city of Kal-Jmar so that he can steal the priceless objects located there. The city has been abandoned for thousands of years, but no human has been able to enter it. Rector crashed his ship in the Mare Cimmerium and left a false trail for authorities to divert them from following him to Lillis, where he plans to obtain a spaceman’s identity card. This card will enable him to ship out on a freighter flight after he has obtained his stolen goods. \n\nRector follows a young patrolman until he catches him unaware on the observation deck of the Founders’ Tower. Rector shoots him in the chest, steals his wallet, and throws his body over the parapet. However, a hook on the patrolman’s uniform catches Rector, pulling Rector over the parapet. He manages to unhook himself, and just as he estimates he can hold on one minute longer, a man comes and pulls him up. The man is Harold Tate, and he invites Rector to have a drink with him. As they get drunk, Tate confides to Rector that he needs a guide to take him to Kal-Jmar; he has discovered a way to enter the dome surrounding the city. \n\nThe two men set out on their journey and follow a gully they reach. While they are in the lower part, Tate sees something overhead, and a boulder crashes down just to the left of their sand car. A horde of Martians surrounds them and forces the two men to go with them. The leader reveals that the Martians are telepathic and have no need for a spoken language. The Martians want nothing to do with the humans because there is nothing to gain from the humans. The leader tells the men the history of the two species of Martians but says they will kill the men.\n\nWhen the leader pulls his gun on Tate, Rector launches himself against the leader and wrestles away his gun. He shoots the leader and the other Martians as he dodges their shots. The two men then begin walking toward Kal-Jmar and reach the city. Tate uses his device to create a hole in the dome but realizes it isn’t strong enough. Then he thinks of using it where a door would have been, and it works. Rector shoots Tate, and just before he dies, Tate warns him, ���You’ll be--sorry.” Rector takes the device and enters the city, noting all the treasures he can steal. He realizes he is hungry and takes two food tablets, but they don’t satisfy him. Then a lifelike robot that is a feeding machine enters and approaches Rector. Rector is startled and opens his mouth, and the robot shoots a feeding tube into Rector’s throat and pours xopa juice into him. The juice is poisonous to humans, and Rector dies immediately. The doorway to Kal-Jmar closes.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "27b1ac4d9fb6428caab39ce0c567bf3f", "response_text": "Syme Rector is one of the most well-known outlaws in the galaxy. After crashing on Mars, he is desperate for a spaceman’s identity card so he can remain in place just a little while longer. He follows a young man until he can murder him with his energy pistol. But as the body falls, so does Syme, who was hooked onto the man’s clothing. He hangs off the ledge of the building as disattaches himself from the boy. His body falls to the group, just as Harold Tate, physicist, rescues Syme. \nWith his victim’s wallet in hand, Syme takes Tate to the bar and orders drinks for the both of them. Tate drunkenly reveals his greatest invention and desire to go to Kal-Jmar to test it out. Syme agrees to take him to the city, with the hopes of glory and money in return. On their journey across Mars, they run into the native Martians and are captured. These terrifying creatures take them deep down into the caverns, where some oxygen is present. Since the Martians are going to kill them, they are able to reveal some of their secrest. They tell them the story of the downfall of Kal-Jmar, show off their telepathic abilities, and more. Syme is able to escape and kill all the Martians, rescuing Tate who was of no help. \nThey continue their journey, now on foot, even though Syme was injured in the fight. Once they reach Kal-Jmar, Tate sets up his equipment. His first try fails, due to the enormity of the force field. His battery power is limited though, and he only has a few more tries left. He figures out that there must be areas where the force field is weaker, doorways in the dome. Tate locates one and they use his invention on it. It works, and the doorway opens. As they move to enter it, Syme reminds Tate to gather his equipment. As he does this, Syme pulls out his gun and shoots Tate in the chest. He steals his equipment and steps through the rapidly closing doorway. \nNow in the great city of Kal-Jmar, he takes his time and explores. The architecture was magnificent and decadent, a true treasure. He imagines all the money he can make off of sealing the artifacts and materials here. \nHe enters a building and discovers oxygen is present. He takes off his spacesuit and breathes in the fresh air. He takes two food tablets to ease his hunger, but it’s not enough. A telepathic Martian robot emerges, still operable thanks to its companions. Its job is to detect hunger and then feed those who need it. After detecting Syme’s hunger, it thrusts a feeding tube down his throat and feeds him poisonous lichen. Syme collapses and dies, leaving Kal-Jmar unexplored and undiscovered.\n"}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "295b67edca644d2ca1c5ebea21bad370", "response_text": "Syme Rector is an outlaw looking for safe passage out of the Martian city of Lillis after the crash landing of his ship. He stalks and kills a boy in order to gain access to his identification and attempt to leave the planet and avoid the authorities.\n\nHe meets Harold Tate who is looking for a guide to take him to the ancient city of Kal-Jmar. Syme agrees to take Tate to his proposed location. On the way they meet Martians who they engage and defeat.\n\nOnce they reach Kal-Jmar, Tate is able to open a door to the city. Syme betrays Tate, killing him. However Syme is himself killed when a robot inside the city mistakes him for a hungry Martian and forcibly feeds him poisonous food."}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "be068ba139aa4049bb05ccd0140602be", "response_text": "Syme Rector crashes his spaceship in Mare Cimmerium and gets through the translucent dome. He needs to disguise himself as an authority figure to enter the city, and he will need a spaceman’s identity card to do that.\n\nRector worries that the Triplanet Patrol will soon realize that he is an intruder. He follows a young patrolman and shoots him with a flame in the chest. He then takes his identification card and throws his body over the balcony. However, he unknowingly attaches the boy’s clothing to his own, and he begins falling over the railing along with the corpse. He lands on a roof and manages to unhook himself from his victim. \n\nHarold Tate comes along and helps Rector get back to safety. The two earth men grab an alcoholic beverage and discuss some secret plans. Tate wants to visit Kal-Jmar, an ancient Martian city. He believes he has discovered a way to penetrate a dome there that houses the Martians’ incredible machinery, equipment, and records. Rector agrees to go with him. \n\nThe men travel in a sand car and are quickly attacked by a horde of Martians who throw a boulder at them and wreck their car. They surround the vehicle, armed with spears and guns. Syme and Rector go with the Martians underground into a cavern. \n\nThere, they learn that the Martians speak English, and they are also telepathic. The leader informs them that he has to murder them. First, however, he will tell them anything they want to know. The leader reveals that he and the other Martians are not a separate species from the ancients as a popular theory stated. However, they are also not the ancestors of the ancients. The two groups of Martians lived alongside each other for many years, but when Mars’ atmosphere changed quickly, the other group was unable to adapt. \n\nRector’s rage suddenly bubbles up, and he attacks the lead Martian before the thought even crosses his mind. He is able to pull the Martian’s gun out of his hand and he hits him over the head with it. In an incredible rage, Rector takes down every last enemy. \n\nWithout their car, the two men trudge through the sand towards the famous dome. Tate takes out his invention, and after a few tries, it begins working. A hole in the dome opens, and Rector takes out his gun and kills Tate. Rector grabs the machine and goes into the dome. He immediately sets his eyes on platinum, ornaments, machines, books, and records. In his mind, he makes big plans to steal as much as he can carry and sell it immediately. He will come back for bigger items later. \n\nHe sees a robot rolling silently around the room, and Rector realizes that the robot is there to feed the Martians. Before he can even process the realization, the robot approaches Rector and shoves a liquid poisonous fungus down his throat. The dome’s door closes, and Rector dies. "}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the setting of the story.", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "3", "uid": "109a5f45515c40358c74e170e54c8c7c", "response_text": "The setting of the story is on Mars. It begins in the city of Lillis, which is covered with a translucent steelite dome and is guarded by the Triplanet Patrol. One outstanding feature of the city is its Founders’ Tower, which is the tallest building in Lillis. On the top level, there is an observation deck that looks out over the city. Outside the city is an area called the Mare Cimmerium. The planet has red dust and supports some life, specifically lichens and tumble-grass. It has mountains, canyons, gullies, and deserts.\n\nThe ancient city of Kal-Jmar features prominently in the story. It is an ancient city of the Martian race that was very advanced but is now abandoned. There are machines, records, and other objects left behind, and all are perfectly preserved inside a bubble-like dome that is formed by a force field. Humans have tried to enter the dome using explosives, diamond drills, and even tunnels under the city, but nothing they have tried has penetrated the dome. When Mars was first being conquered, humans tried to get into the city, but their efforts resulted in bloody battles with the current Martians, so eventually, the Mars Protectorate forbade any Earthmen from going near Kal-Jmar. The city has elaborate architecture and features a pair of twin towers. When Rector enters the city, he notices there is no dust, and the air is breathable. Doors open and close automatically. The room Rector enters has platinum ornaments set in the walls and the furniture. \n\nAs Tate and Rector travel toward Kal-Jmar in their sand car outside of Lillis, they note that Mars has a deceptively low horizon. The surface contains a series of dunes, channels, and gullies that they have to cross. The gully they follow is extremely deep and steep, and from the bottom, they can only see a small section of the sky. \n\nWhen the Martians take Tate and Rector to their cavern, it is approximately nine kilometers below the gully they were in. There is a sense of moisture in the tunnel they take to the Martians’ cavern. In the cavern, the walls are covered with a phosphorescent glowing fungus, and there is air, although not enough for the humans to use. Some of the Martians eat the fungus. \n\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "27b1ac4d9fb6428caab39ce0c567bf3f", "response_text": "Although the beginning of the story takes place on Venus, it quickly transitions to Mars. Specifically, the long-lost city of Kal-Jmar. \nWith a protective sphere, Kal-Jmar is impenetrable and the myth and folklore surrounding it are grandiose. Kal-Jmar is only one city on Mars (the last ancient city), where the rest of the Martians live. Many Terrestrials tried to access the city, to view the historic artifacts and glorious treasures, but each attempt only lead to infighting on Mars. Soon, the Mars Protectorate forbade Earthmen to travel on Mars, as well as perform any experiments on Kal-Jmar. \nThis city is rich with well-preserved artifacts and snippets of history that many vyed to get their hands on. This story surrounds the mysteries of this city as well as the desire and need to plunder it.\n"}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "295b67edca644d2ca1c5ebea21bad370", "response_text": "The story takes place on Mars in the future. The planet has been colonized by humans to the extent that cities such as Lillis are covered with immense domes to protect from the harsh Martian environment.\n\nThe characters in the story head to the ancient Martian domed city of Kal-Jmar. They head across the parched Martian landscape and eventually head down a gully which is filled with moisture and even a phosphorescent type of fungus. Kal-Jmar is filled with treasures but otherwise abandoned."}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "be068ba139aa4049bb05ccd0140602be", "response_text": "The story takes place on Mars. There are parts of Mars that have been colonized by earth men, like the city of Lillis, and parts that the current-day Martians still control. One of those areas is Kal-Jmar, an ancient city that earth men know very little about. When Tate and Rector first come across the city, they immediately notice its fantastic architecture. Although it’s in a state of decay, it’s obvious that the ancient city was once beautiful. \n\nThe dome at Kal-Jmar is particularly fantastic. For many years, earth men have tried to figure out how to break through its forcefield. However, the dome is impervious to bombs, and even diamonds cannot break its shell. Inside the dome are all of the relics of the ancient Martian civilization. Records, machines, books, and precious metals are all hidden away behind its walls. \n\nSeveral thousand years before the story starts, the environment on Mars changed. The ancient Martians were unable to adapt and survive, but the current-day Martians understood the changes they needed to make to survive in the new climate. The Martians survive on elements that are plentiful in the area in which they live, like fungus, sand, and lichens. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Harold Tate, and what happens to him in the story?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "3", "uid": "109a5f45515c40358c74e170e54c8c7c", "response_text": "Harold Tate is a physicist who has developed a way to create an opening in the force field dome covering the ancient city of Kal-Jmar. Other humans have tried to enter, but none have succeeded. They have not been able to breach the force field, and efforts to do so led to bloody uprisings of current Martians, so the Mars Protectorate has forbidden any Earthmen to go there. Tate happens to be on the observation deck of the Founders’ Tower when Syme Rector is trying to pull himself back over the parapet after getting pulled over it by the patrolman’s body that he threw over the side. Tate invites Rector to have a drink with him, and when he is drunk, he tells Rector he trusts him because he has an honest face. Tate asks Rector to be his guide to Kal-Jmar and tells him about the device he invented. Tate sees the boulder that the Martians lob toward their sand car when they are in the gully and saves their lives by using a steering level to flip the car around and out of the main path of the boulder.\n\nWhen the Martians take the two men to their subterranean cavern and reveal that they can speak Terrestrial, Tate asks the leader many questions about the Martians. When the leader of the Martians starts to shoot him, Rector saves Tate by hitting the Martian, wrestling his gun away, and shooting the rest of the Martians while Tate cowers against the wall. When they reach Kal-Jmar, Tate uses his device to open the force field, but then Rector shoots him. As he is dying, Tate warns Rector that he will be sorry.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "27b1ac4d9fb6428caab39ce0c567bf3f", "response_text": "Harold Tate is an incredibly smart physicist who discovered the Kal-Jmar solution. More specifically, how to break through the impenetrable forcefield surrounding it. \nA relatively shy man, he is first introduced in the story by saving Syme’s life. He pulls him up off the ledge, and then they run off and get the drink together. There, roused by culcha, he reveals his huge secret to the man he just saved. \nAfter showing him his invention, Syme agrees to guide him to Kal-Jmar. Tate had never been to Mars before, so he desperately needed someone to take him around. \nHis knowledge of the Martian race, when it comes to the scientific side, rivals that of Syme’s, who’d possibly run into them before. However, he is scared of the Martians and their unpredictability. \nAfter they are captured by the Martians, the leader announces their imminent death. While Syme orchestrates their escape by killing all the Martians with an energy gun, Tate stays glued to the wall. His cowardice annoys Syme, who was injured in the fight. \nIn the end, after they reach Kal-Jmar, Tate can open a door in the force field using his ingenus invention. The first time failed, but after careful consideration, he was able to succeed the second time. Once he had opened the field, Syme betrayed him and shot him in the chest with his energy gun.\n"}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "295b67edca644d2ca1c5ebea21bad370", "response_text": "Harold Tate meets Syme Rector and joins him for a drink in Lillis. He is in need of a guide to the ancient Martian city of Kal-Jmar. Traveling with Syme, he encounters a Martian resistance to his journey which they are able to overcome. Using technology of his own design, Tate is able to open a door in the outer door to Kal-Jmar. Immediately after this he is  shot and killed by Syme. He warns Syme that he is walking into a dangerous situation but he is ignored."}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "be068ba139aa4049bb05ccd0140602be", "response_text": "Harold Tate comes to Rector’s rescue when he desperately needs help. Rector kills a patrolman and throws his body over a bannister. When Rector finds himself injured and unable to climb over the bar, Tate lends him a hand and asks very few questions. The two men get a drink together at a cafe nearby. Tate confesses that he trusts Rector right away due to his honest face, and he asks Rector to be his guide on Mars. \n\nMore specifically, Tate tells Rector that he wants to go to Kal-Jmar, an ancient Martian city that earth men are forbidden from visiting. Tate is a physicist, and he believes he has solved the riddle of the city’s dome. It is an incredible force field that can withstand explosives and diamond drills. Tate believes he invented a machine that will force open the wall of the dome. \n\nWhen the two men are attacked by many Martians on their voyage to Kal-Jmar, Tate does nothing to help Rector defend them. He slumps in the corner and hopes to stay alive without attacking a single alien. Although he is very intelligent, he is not brave when he needs to be. \n\nThe men finally make it to Kal-Jmar, and Tate gets his incredible invention to work after a few tries. He creates an opening in the mysterious dome. Rector quickly kills him before he can even enter the magnificent space, and his only warning is “you'll be sorry.”\n"}]}, {"question_text": "What are the items that Syme Rector uses that help him survive?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "3", "uid": "109a5f45515c40358c74e170e54c8c7c", "response_text": "Rector carries a pistol that, when shot, is silent. This enables him to shoot the young patrolman without drawing attention to himself or making people aware that there has been a shooting. In the sand car, Rector relies on the car’s metal arm and thick wire cable to travel down into the gully. He has harpoon guns that he and Tate can use later if they need to climb back out of the gully. After Rector battles with the Martians and shoots them, he uses a tube of sealing liquid that he carries in his emergency kit to seal the tear in his suit so that he stops losing oxygen. He also uses the sealant to close the wound in his leg from the graze of one of the Benson guns the Martians fired at him. Rector and Tate use oxygen tanks and space suits in their journey to Kal-Jmar because there is not enough air for them to breathe without these items. When he is hungry, Rector takes two food tablets that he carries in his helmet."}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "27b1ac4d9fb6428caab39ce0c567bf3f", "response_text": "Syme Rector is an outlaw, a man that relies on his wits and his tools to survive. His grand experiences and adventures have taught him several lifetime’s worth of wisdom. His most trusted tool is his handy energy pistol, which he uses many times throughout the story. This gun is powerful and quick and can be found holstered on his hip. \nHe also steals a spaceman’s identity card, someone named Jones, in order to not be caught on Mars. \nHe uses a sand car to travel across Mars and transport Tate to Kal-Jmar. This car is equipped with an anchor, as well as a pulley, so one can safely descend and ascend.\n"}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "295b67edca644d2ca1c5ebea21bad370", "response_text": "At one point Syme using a tube of sealing agent to make an airtight seal of a tear in his spacesuit. Syme also carries a gun which he uses to shoot and kill the boy early in the story in order to steal his identification. He also uses the gun on Tate after he gains access to Kal-Jmar. Syme also uses a sand car to navigate the Martian Terrain and guide Tate to the location of Kal-Jmar."}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "be068ba139aa4049bb05ccd0140602be", "response_text": "\nRector would be immediately caught and punished if he were captured in the city of Lillis without identification. That’s why the patrolman’s identity card is so important. In order to get it, Rector has to stalk a young and innocent patrolman and murder him in broad daylight. He steals his wallet so that he can use his ID card, and he starts going by the name Jones. \n\nThe sand car is also an important item for Rector because its technology allows Rector and Tate to make their way through the sand and over the gullies of the difficult terrain on Mars. The car actually has metal arms that can go deep into the sand and lift the car up and over obstacles. Unfortunately, the car does not get the duo very far before a group of Martians attacks them and destroys the car. \n\nRector also has to steal the lead alien’s gun in order to defend himself and his partner. He and Tate would perish if he did not have the courage to grab the gun out of the Martian’s grasp and hit him over the head with it. He uses the weapon to murder the rest of the Martians and save Tate’s life and his own.\n\nFinally, the entire mission to Kal-Jmar would be pointless without Tate’s invention. As soon as Tate tells Rector about his work, Rector sees dollar signs. He wants to take advantage of Tate’s knowledge and steal as many goods as possible from the impenetrable dome. As soon as Tate gets the machine to work and Rector knows he can go inside, he murders Tate so he can take everything for himself. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the Martians in the story.", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "3", "uid": "109a5f45515c40358c74e170e54c8c7c", "response_text": "From the humans' perspective, the Martians are strange, unpredictable beings. They eat sand to get their oxygen, and lichens, fungi, and tumble-grass from the deserts, all of which contain substances like arsenic that are deadly poisons to humans. The humans believe the Martians cannot or will not learn their language, Terrestrial, and that they have their own language. In it, every word can have multiple meanings depending on the inflection used by the speaker. In truth, the Martians have been telepathic for several thousand years because the planet is practically airless. They are clever and only pretend not to understand Terrestrial, and they make up their complicated language to deceive the humans. \n\nMartians want no contact with humans because the Martians have nothing to gain from contact with them. They see the humans as imperialistic. They plan to kill Rector and Tate as part of their concept of justice. The Martians know that Kal-Jmar holds the secret that would make Mars have an Earthlike atmosphere within fifty years. The ancient Kal-Jmar Martians were the contemporaries of the current Martians' ancestors. When the atmosphere of Mars began thinning several thousand years earlier, the Kal-Jmar Martians sealed themselves in their dome where they died of plague and other causes, while the other Martians adapted to the change. \n\nThe Martians look like they have six legs but really have four legs and two arms. Their torsos bulge because they have a huge air bladder. They look a bit like dogs but have high foreheads and lips that are not split. They are covered with patches of black and white fur; with their muscles, they can control the patches so that they are primarily black or white, depending on the temperature. They can use weapons and are armed with spears and Benson guns when they confront Rector and Tate. \n\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "27b1ac4d9fb6428caab39ce0c567bf3f", "response_text": "The ancient Martians, as is revealed later in the story, faced an urgent dilemma when the atmosphere surrounding Mars changed. They could either hide and make scientific changes to survive. Or they could stay where they were and adapt. One group hid in the city of Kal-Jmar, constructing an impenetrable dome around themselves. They remained the same for many years until a plague wiped out the entire population. \nThe other group was able to survive the atmospheric collapse by changing with it. Their dependence on oxygen lessened. They eat sand to get oxygen, as well as breathing it in the deep caverns below. They can eat poisonous lichens and mushrooms, fungi that would kill any other creature. \nAnd their bodies changed too. Now, they resemble dogs, with fur that changes color depending on the weather. With four legs and two arms, they are incredibly quick creatures. Their stomachs bulged out from their body, due to their evolutionary changes. The Martians are also telepathic, with no current language of their own. They are an incredibly advanced race. They developed air bladders that pumped oxygen from the stomach (sand) directly to the bloodstream. These are the native Martians, and, though energy guns were forbidden on Mars, some of them were armed with them. Others carry spears and other missiles.\n"}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "295b67edca644d2ca1c5ebea21bad370", "response_text": "The Martians have 4 legs and 2 arms. They are telepathic which aids in their communication on a planet with very little atmosphere. It is thought that they speak an immensely complex language and cannot speak to humans. This, however, is a deception on the part of the Martians who can speak to humans perfectly well. The Martians who currently live on the planet have adapted to live on the planet with no atmosphere. Their species' ancient contemporaries sealed themselves in cities like Kal-Jmar instead of adapting. "}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "be068ba139aa4049bb05ccd0140602be", "response_text": "The ancient Martians and a prolific species. They have thousands of machines and artifacts that they have created, and they preserved all of their equipment and accomplishments inside an impenetrable dome. Now, the current-day Martians protect the dome. The current-day Martians lived alongside the ancient Martians until the atmosphere on Mars changed rapidly and the ancients could not evolve quickly enough. \n\nThe current-day Martians are very different from earth men. Although they breathe oxygen, they also eat sand, fungi, and lichens. They do not come to cities where earth men preside, and they refuse to speak their tongue. The creatures have four legs and two arms, and they move incredibly fast. Their faces resemble dogs, except that they have large foreheads. Thick black fur covers their faces, and using their muscles sometimes turns the fur white. The Martians are also telepathic, but only Tate and Rector learn this fact. The rest of the earth men do not consider it a possibility. The species is very deceitful. They made up a fake language so that the earth men would not know their true tongue, and they pretend they cannot speak terrestrial although they truly can. \n"}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "61146", "uid": "ca0040cc3bc740f39e51994855bd284d", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "\n\n\n\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\nRETIEF OF THE RED-TAPE MOUNTAIN\nby KEITH LAUMER\nRetief knew the importance of sealed\n   \n  orders—and the need to keep them that way!\n \n  [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from\n   \n  Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1962.\n   \n  Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\n   \n  the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n\"It's true,\" Consul Passwyn said, \"I requested assignment as principal\nofficer at a small post. But I had in mind one of those charming resort\nworlds, with only an occasional visa problem, or perhaps a distressed\nspaceman or two a year. Instead, I'm zoo-keeper to these confounded\nsettlers. And not for one world, mind you, but eight!\" He stared glumly\nat Vice-Consul Retief.\n \n  \"Still,\" Retief said, \"it gives an opportunity to travel—\"\n \n  \"Travel!\" the consul barked. \"I hate travel. Here in this backwater\nsystem particularly—\" He paused, blinked at Retief and cleared his\nthroat. \"Not that a bit of travel isn't an excellent thing for a\njunior officer. Marvelous experience.\"\n \n  He turned to the wall-screen and pressed a button. A system triagram\nappeared: eight luminous green dots arranged around a larger disk\nrepresenting the primary. He picked up a pointer, indicating the\ninnermost planet.\n \n  \"The situation on Adobe is nearing crisis. The confounded settlers—a\nmere handful of them—have managed, as usual, to stir up trouble with\nan intelligent indigenous life form, the Jaq. I can't think why they\nbother, merely for a few oases among the endless deserts. However I\nhave, at last, received authorization from Sector Headquarters to\ntake certain action.\" He swung back to face Retief. \"I'm sending you\nin to handle the situation, Retief—under sealed orders.\" He picked\nup a fat buff envelope. \"A pity they didn't see fit to order the\nTerrestrial settlers out weeks ago, as I suggested. Now it is too late.\nI'm expected to produce a miracle—a rapprochement between Terrestrial\nand Adoban and a division of territory. It's idiotic. However, failure\nwould look very bad in my record, so I shall expect results.\"\n \n  He passed the buff envelope across to Retief.\n \n  \"I understood that Adobe was uninhabited,\" Retief said, \"until the\nTerrestrial settlers arrived.\"\n \n  \"Apparently, that was an erroneous impression.\" Passwyn fixed Retief\nwith a watery eye. \"You'll follow your instructions to the letter. In a\ndelicate situation such as this, there must be no impulsive, impromptu\nelement introduced. This approach has been worked out in detail at\nSector. You need merely implement it. Is that entirely clear?\"\n \n  \"Has anyone at Headquarters ever visited Adobe?\"\n \n  \"Of course not. They all hate travel. If there are no other questions,\nyou'd best be on your way. The mail run departs the dome in less than\nan hour.\"\n \n  \"What's this native life form like?\" Retief asked, getting to his feet.\n \n  \"When you get back,\" said Passwyn, \"you tell me.\"\nThe mail pilot, a leathery veteran with quarter-inch whiskers, spat\ntoward a stained corner of the compartment, leaned close to the screen.\n \n  \"They's shootin' goin' on down there,\" he said. \"See them white puffs\nover the edge of the desert?\"\n \n  \"I'm supposed to be preventing the war,\" said Retief. \"It looks like\nI'm a little late.\"\n \n  The pilot's head snapped around. \"War?\" he yelped. \"Nobody told me they\nwas a war goin' on on 'Dobe. If that's what that is, I'm gettin' out of\nhere.\"\n \n  \"Hold on,\" said Retief. \"I've got to get down. They won't shoot at you.\"\n \n  \"They shore won't, sonny. I ain't givin' 'em the chance.\" He started\npunching keys on the console. Retief reached out, caught his wrist.\n \n  \"Maybe you didn't hear me. I said I've got to get down.\"\n \n  The pilot plunged against the restraint, swung a punch that Retief\nblocked casually. \"Are you nuts?\" the pilot screeched. \"They's plenty\nshootin' goin' on fer me to see it fifty miles out.\"\n \n  \"The mail must go through, you know.\"\n \n  \"Okay! You're so dead set on gettin' killed, you take the skiff. I'll\ntell 'em to pick up the remains next trip.\"\n \n  \"You're a pal. I'll take your offer.\"\n \n  The pilot jumped to the lifeboat hatch and cycled it open. \"Get in.\nWe're closin' fast. Them birds might take it into their heads to lob\none this way....\"\n \n  Retief crawled into the narrow cockpit of the skiff, glanced over the\ncontrols. The pilot ducked out of sight, came back, handed Retief a\nheavy old-fashioned power pistol. \"Long as you're goin' in, might as\nwell take this.\"\n \n  \"Thanks.\" Retief shoved the pistol in his belt. \"I hope you're wrong.\"\n \n  \"I'll see they pick you up when the shootin's over—one way or another.\"\n \n  The hatch clanked shut. A moment later there was a jar as the skiff\ndropped away, followed by heavy buffeting in the backwash from the\ndeparting mail boat. Retief watched the tiny screen, hands on the\nmanual controls. He was dropping rapidly: forty miles, thirty-nine....\n \n  A crimson blip showed on the screen, moving out.\n \n  Retief felt sweat pop out on his forehead. The red blip meant heavy\nradiation from a warhead. Somebody was playing around with an outlawed\nbut by no means unheard of fission weapon. But maybe it was just on a\nhigh trajectory and had no connection with the skiff....\n \n  Retief altered course to the south. The blip followed.\n \n  He checked instrument readings, gripped the controls, watching. This\nwas going to be tricky. The missile bored closer. At five miles Retief\nthrew the light skiff into maximum acceleration, straight toward the\noncoming bomb. Crushed back in the padded seat, he watched the screen,\ncorrecting course minutely. The proximity fuse should be set for no\nmore than 1000 yards.\n \n  At a combined speed of two miles per second, the skiff flashed past\nthe missile, and Retief was slammed violently against the restraining\nharness in the concussion of the explosion ... a mile astern, and\nharmless.\n \n  Then the planetary surface was rushing up with frightening speed.\nRetief shook his head, kicked in the emergency retro-drive. Points\nof light arced up from the planet face below. If they were ordinary\nchemical warheads the skiff's meteor screens should handle them. The\nscreen flashed brilliant white, then went dark. The skiff flipped on\nits back. Smoke filled the tiny compartment. There was a series of\nshocks, a final bone-shaking concussion, then stillness, broken by the\nping of hot metal contracting.\nCoughing, Retief disengaged himself from the shock-webbing. He beat\nout sparks in his lap, groped underfoot for the hatch and wrenched it\nopen. A wave of hot jungle air struck him. He lowered himself to a bed\nof shattered foliage, got to his feet ... and dropped flat as a bullet\nwhined past his ear.\n \n  He lay listening. Stealthy movements were audible from the left.\n \n  He inched his way to the shelter of a broad-boled dwarf tree. Somewhere\na song lizard burbled. Whining insects circled, scented alien life,\nbuzzed off. There was another rustle of foliage from the underbrush\nfive yards away. A bush quivered, then a low bough dipped.\n \n  Retief edged back around the trunk, eased down behind a fallen log.\nA stocky man in grimy leather shirt and shorts appeared, moving\ncautiously, a pistol in his hand.\n \n  As he passed, Retief rose, leaped the log and tackled him.\n \n  They went down together. The stranger gave one short yell, then\nstruggled in silence. Retief flipped him onto his back, raised a fist—\n \n  \"Hey!\" the settler yelled. \"You're as human as I am!\"\n \n  \"Maybe I'll look better after a shave,\" said Retief. \"What's the idea\nof shooting at me?\"\n \n  \"Lemme up. My name's Potter. Sorry 'bout that. I figured it was a\nFlap-jack boat; looks just like 'em. I took a shot when I saw something\nmove. Didn't know it was a Terrestrial. Who are you? What you doin'\nhere? We're pretty close to the edge of the oases. That's Flap-jack\ncountry over there.\" He waved a hand toward the north, where the desert\nlay.\n \n  \"I'm glad you're a poor shot. That missile was too close for comfort.\"\n \n  \"Missile, eh? Must be Flap-jack artillery. We got nothing like that.\"\n \n  \"I heard there was a full-fledged war brewing,\" said Retief. \"I didn't\nexpect—\"\n \n  \"Good!\" Potter said. \"We figured a few of you boys from Ivory would be\njoining up when you heard. You are from Ivory?\"\n \n  \"Yes. I'm—\"\n \n  \"Hey, you must be Lemuel's cousin. Good night! I pretty near made a bad\nmistake. Lemuel's a tough man to explain something to.\"\n \n  \"I'm—\"\n \n  \"Keep your head down. These damn Flap-jacks have got some wicked hand\nweapons. Come on....\" He moved off silently on all fours. Retief\nfollowed. They crossed two hundred yards of rough country before Potter\ngot to his feet, took out a soggy bandana and mopped his face.\n \n  \"You move good for a city man. I thought you folks on Ivory just sat\nunder those domes and read dials. But I guess bein' Lemuel's cousin you\nwas raised different.\"\n \n  \"As a matter of fact—\"\n \n  \"Have to get you some real clothes, though. Those city duds don't stand\nup on 'Dobe.\"\n \n  Retief looked down at the charred, torn and sweat-soaked powder-blue\nblazer and slacks.\n \n  \"This outfit seemed pretty rough-and-ready back home,\" he said. \"But I\nguess leather has its points.\"\n \n  \"Let's get on back to camp. We'll just about make it by sundown.\nAnd, look. Don't say anything to Lemuel about me thinking you were a\nFlap-jack.\"\n \n  \"I won't, but—\"\n \n  Potter was on his way, loping off up a gentle slope. Retief pulled off\nthe sodden blazer, dropped it over a bush, added his string tie and\nfollowed Potter.\nII\n \n  \"We're damn glad you're here, mister,\" said a fat man with two\nrevolvers belted across his paunch. \"We can use every hand. We're in\nbad shape. We ran into the Flap-jacks three months ago and we haven't\nmade a smart move since. First, we thought they were a native form we\nhadn't run into before. Fact is, one of the boys shot one, thinkin' it\nwas fair game. I guess that was the start of it.\" He stirred the fire,\nadded a stick.\n \n  \"And then a bunch of 'em hit Swazey's farm here,\" Potter said. \"Killed\ntwo of his cattle, and pulled back.\"\n \n  \"I figure they thought the cows were people,\" said Swazey. \"They were\nout for revenge.\"\n \n  \"How could anybody think a cow was folks?\" another man put in. \"They\ndon't look nothin' like—\"\n \n  \"Don't be so dumb, Bert,\" said Swazey. \"They'd never seen Terries\nbefore. They know better now.\"\n \n  Bert chuckled. \"Sure do. We showed 'em the next time, didn't we,\nPotter? Got four.\"\n \n  \"They walked right up to my place a couple days after the first time,\"\nSwazey said. \"We were ready for 'em. Peppered 'em good. They cut and\nrun.\"\n \n  \"Flopped, you mean. Ugliest lookin' critters you ever saw. Look just\nlike a old piece of dirty blanket humpin' around.\"\n \n  \"It's been goin' on this way ever since. They raid and then we raid.\nBut lately they've been bringing some big stuff into it. They've got\nsome kind of pint-sized airships and automatic rifles. We've lost four\nmen now and a dozen more in the freezer, waiting for the med ship. We\ncan't afford it. The colony's got less than three hundred able-bodied\nmen.\"\n \n  \"But we're hanging onto our farms,\" said Potter. \"All these oases are\nold sea-beds—a mile deep, solid topsoil. And there's a couple of\nhundred others we haven't touched yet. The Flap-jacks won't get 'em\nwhile there's a man alive.\"\n \n  \"The whole system needs the food we can raise,\" Bert said. \"These farms\nwe're trying to start won't be enough but they'll help.\"\n \n  \"We been yellin' for help to the CDT, over on Ivory,\" said Potter. \"But\nyou know these Embassy stooges.\"\n \n  \"We heard they were sending some kind of bureaucrat in here to tell\nus to get out and give the oases to the Flap-jacks,\" said Swazey. He\ntightened his mouth. \"We're waitin' for him....\"\n \n  \"Meanwhile we got reinforcements comin' up, eh, boys?\" Bert winked at\nRetief. \"We put out the word back home. We all got relatives on Ivory\nand Verde.\"\n \n  \"Shut up, you damn fool!\" a deep voice grated.\n \n  \"Lemuel!\" Potter said. \"Nobody else could sneak up on us like that.\"\n \n  \"If I'd a been a Flap-jack; I'd of et you alive,\" the newcomer said,\nmoving into the ring of fire, a tall, broad-faced man in grimy leather.\nHe eyed Retief.\n \n  \"Who's that?\"\n \n  \"What do ya mean?\" Potter spoke in the silence. \"He's your cousin....\"\n \n  \"He ain't no cousin of mine,\" Lemuel said slowly. He stepped to Retief.\n \n  \"Who you spyin' for, stranger?\" he rasped.\nRetief got to his feet. \"I think I should explain—\"\n \n  A short-nosed automatic appeared in Lemuel's hand, a clashing note\nagainst his fringed buckskins.\n \n  \"Skip the talk. I know a fink when I see one.\"\n \n  \"Just for a change, I'd like to finish a sentence,\" said Retief. \"And I\nsuggest you put your courage back in your pocket before it bites you.\"\n \n  \"You talk too damned fancy to suit me.\"\n \n  \"Maybe. But I'm talking to suit me. Now, for the last time, put it\naway.\"\n \n  Lemuel stared at Retief. \"You givin' me orders...?\"\n \n  Retief's left fist shot out, smacked Lemuel's face dead center. He\nstumbled back, blood starting from his nose; the pistol fired into the\ndirt as he dropped it. He caught himself, jumped for Retief ... and met\na straight right that snapped him onto his back: out cold.\n \n  \"Wow!\" said Potter. \"The stranger took Lem ... in two punches!\"\n \n  \"One,\" said Swazey. \"That first one was just a love tap.\"\n \n  Bert froze. \"Hark, boys,\" he whispered. In the sudden silence a night\nlizard called. Retief strained, heard nothing. He narrowed his eyes,\npeered past the fire—\n \n  With a swift lunge he seized up the bucket of drinking water, dashed it\nover the fire, threw himself flat. He heard the others hit the dirt a\nsplit second behind him.\n \n  \"You move fast for a city man,\" breathed Swazey beside him. \"You see\npretty good too. We'll split and take 'em from two sides. You and Bert\nfrom the left, me and Potter from the right.\"\n \n  \"No,\" said Retief. \"You wait here. I'm going out alone.\"\n \n  \"What's the idea...?\"\n \n  \"Later. Sit tight and keep your eyes open.\" Retief took a bearing on a\ntreetop faintly visible against the sky and started forward.\nFive minutes' stealthy progress brought him to a slight rise of ground.\nWith infinite caution he raised himself, risking a glance over an\nout-cropping of rock.\n \n  The stunted trees ended just ahead. Beyond, he could make out the dim\ncontour of rolling desert. Flap-jack country. He got to his feet,\nclambered over the stone—still hot after a day of tropical heat—and\nmoved forward twenty yards. Around him he saw nothing but drifted sand,\npalely visible in the starlight, and the occasional shadow of jutting\nshale slabs. Behind him the jungle was still.\n \n  He sat down on the ground to wait.\n \n  It was ten minutes before a movement caught his eye. Something had\nseparated itself from a dark mass of stone, glided across a few yards\nof open ground to another shelter. Retief watched. Minutes passed. The\nshape moved again, slipped into a shadow ten feet distant. Retief felt\nthe butt of the power pistol with his elbow. His guess had better be\nright this time....\n \n  There was a sudden rasp, like leather against concrete, and a flurry of\nsand as the Flap-jack charged.\n \n  Retief rolled aside, then lunged, threw his weight on the flopping\nFlap-jack—a yard square, three inches thick at the center and all\nmuscle. The ray-like creature heaved up, curled backward, its edge\nrippling, to stand on the flattened rim of its encircling sphincter.\nIt scrabbled with prehensile fringe-tentacles for a grip on Retief's\nshoulders. He wrapped his arms around the alien and struggled to his\nfeet. The thing was heavy. A hundred pounds at least. Fighting as it\nwas, it seemed more like five hundred.\n \n  The Flap-jack reversed its tactics, went limp. Retief grabbed, felt a\nthumb slip into an orifice—\n \n  The alien went wild. Retief hung on, dug the thumb in deeper.\n \n  \"Sorry, fellow,\" he muttered between clenched teeth. \"Eye-gouging isn't\ngentlemanly, but it's effective....\"\n \n  The Flap-jack fell still, only its fringes rippling slowly. Retief\nrelaxed the pressure of his thumb; the alien gave a tentative jerk; the\nthumb dug in.\n \n  The alien went limp again, waiting.\n \n  \"Now we understand each other,\" said Retief. \"Take me to your leader.\"\nTwenty minutes' walk into the desert brought Retief to a low rampart\nof thorn branches: the Flap-jacks' outer defensive line against Terry\nforays. It would be as good a place as any to wait for the move by the\nFlap-jacks. He sat down and eased the weight of his captive off his\nback, but kept a firm thumb in place. If his analysis of the situation\nwas correct, a Flap-jack picket should be along before too long....\n \n  A penetrating beam of red light struck Retief in the face, blinked off.\nHe got to his feet. The captive Flap-jack rippled its fringe in an\nagitated way. Retief tensed his thumb in the eye-socket.\n \n  \"Sit tight,\" he said. \"Don't try to do anything hasty....\" His remarks\nwere falling on deaf ears—or no ears at all—but the thumb spoke as\nloudly as words.\n \n  There was a slither of sand. Another. He became aware of a ring of\npresences drawing closer.\n \n  Retief tightened his grip on the alien. He could see a dark shape now,\nlooming up almost to his own six-three. It looked like the Flap-jacks\ncame in all sizes.\n \n  A low rumble sounded, like a deep-throated growl. It strummed on, faded\nout. Retief cocked his head, frowning.\n \n  \"Try it two octaves higher,\" he said.\n \n  \"Awwrrp! Sorry. Is that better?\" a clear voice came from the darkness.\n \n  \"That's fine,\" Retief said. \"I'm here to arrange a prisoner exchange.\"\n \n  \"Prisoners? But we have no prisoners.\"\n \n  \"Sure you have. Me. Is it a deal?\"\n \n  \"Ah, yes, of course. Quite equitable. What guarantees do you require?\"\n \n  \"The word of a gentleman is sufficient.\" Retief released the alien. It\nflopped once, disappeared into the darkness.\n \n  \"If you'd care to accompany me to our headquarters,\" the voice said,\n\"we can discuss our mutual concerns in comfort.\"\n \n  \"Delighted.\"\n \n  Red lights blinked briefly. Retief glimpsed a gap in the thorny\nbarrier, stepped through it. He followed dim shapes across warm sand to\na low cave-like entry, faintly lit with a reddish glow.\n \n  \"I must apologize for the awkward design of our comfort-dome,\" said the\nvoice. \"Had we known we would be honored by a visit—\"\n \n  \"Think nothing of it,\" Retief said. \"We diplomats are trained to crawl.\"\n \n  Inside, with knees bent and head ducked under the five-foot ceiling,\nRetief looked around at the walls of pink-toned nacre, a floor like\nburgundy-colored glass spread with silken rugs and a low table of\npolished red granite that stretched down the center of the spacious\nroom, set out with silver dishes and rose-crystal drinking-tubes.\nIII\n \n  \"Let me congratulate you,\" the voice said.\n \n  Retief turned. An immense Flap-jack, hung with crimson trappings,\nrippled at his side. The voice issued from a disk strapped to its back.\n\"You fight well. I think we will find in each other worthy adversaries.\"\n \n  \"Thanks. I'm sure the test would be interesting, but I'm hoping we can\navoid it.\"\n \n  \"Avoid it?\" Retief heard a low humming coming from the speaker in the\nsilence. \"Well, let us dine,\" the mighty Flap-jack said at last. \"We\ncan resolve these matters later. I am called Hoshick of the Mosaic of\nthe Two Dawns.\"\n \n  \"I'm Retief.\" Hoshick waited expectantly, \"... of the Mountain of Red\nTape,\" Retief added.\n \n  \"Take place, Retief,\" said Hoshick. \"I hope you won't find our rude\ncouches uncomfortable.\" Two other large Flap-jacks came into the room,\ncommuned silently with Hoshick. \"Pray forgive our lack of translating\ndevices,\" he said to Retief. \"Permit me to introduce my colleagues....\"\n \n  A small Flap-jack rippled the chamber bearing on its back a silver tray\nladen with aromatic food. The waiter served the four diners, filled the\ndrinking tubes with yellow wine. It smelled good.\n \n  \"I trust you'll find these dishes palatable,\" said Hoshick. \"Our\nmetabolisms are much alike, I believe.\" Retief tried the food. It had a\ndelicious nut-like flavor. The wine was indistinguishable from Chateau\nd'Yquem.\n \n  \"It was an unexpected pleasure to encounter your party here,\"\nsaid Hoshick. \"I confess at first we took you for an indigenous\nearth-grubbing form, but we were soon disabused of that notion.\" He\nraised a tube, manipulating it deftly with his fringe tentacles. Retief\nreturned the salute and drank.\n \n  \"Of course,\" Hoshick continued, \"as soon as we realized that you were\nsportsmen like ourselves, we attempted to make amends by providing a\nbit of activity for you. We've ordered out our heavier equipment and a\nfew trained skirmishers and soon we'll be able to give you an adequate\nshow. Or so I hope.\"\n \n  \"Additional skirmishers?\" said Retief. \"How many, if you don't mind my\nasking?\"\n \n  \"For the moment, perhaps only a few hundred. There-after ... well,\nI'm sure we can arrange that between us. Personally I would prefer a\ncontest of limited scope. No nuclear or radiation-effect weapons. Such\na bore, screening the spawn for deviations. Though I confess we've come\nupon some remarkably useful sports. The rangerform such as you made\ncaptive, for example. Simple-minded, of course, but a fantastically\nkeen tracker.\"\n \n  \"Oh, by all means,\" Retief said. \"No atomics. As you pointed out,\nspawn-sorting is a nuisance, and then too, it's wasteful of troops.\"\n \n  \"Ah, well, they are after all expendable. But we agree: no atomics.\nHave you tried the ground-gwack eggs? Rather a specialty of my\nMosaic....\"\n \n  \"Delicious,\" said Retief. \"I wonder. Have you considered eliminating\nweapons altogether?\"\nA scratchy sound issued from the disk. \"Pardon my laughter,\" Hoshick\nsaid, \"but surely you jest?\"\n \n  \"As a matter of fact,\" said Retief, \"we ourselves seldom use weapons.\"\n \n  \"I seem to recall that our first contact of skirmishforms involved the\nuse of a weapon by one of your units.\"\n \n  \"My apologies,\" said Retief. \"The—ah—the skirmishform failed to\nrecognize that he was dealing with a sportsman.\"\n \n  \"Still, now that we have commenced so merrily with weapons....\" Hoshick\nsignaled and the servant refilled tubes.\n \n  \"There is an aspect I haven't yet mentioned,\" Retief went on. \"I hope\nyou won't take this personally, but the fact is, our skirmishforms\nthink of weapons as something one employs only in dealing with certain\nspecific life-forms.\"\n \n  \"Oh? Curious. What forms are those?\"\n \n  \"Vermin. Or 'varmints' as some call them. Deadly antagonists, but\nlacking in caste. I don't want our skirmishforms thinking of such\nworthy adversaries as yourself as varmints.\"\n \n  \"Dear me! I hadn't realized, of course. Most considerate of you to\npoint it out.\" Hoshick clucked in dismay. \"I see that skirmishforms are\nmuch the same among you as with us: lacking in perception.\" He laughed\nscratchily. \"Imagine considering us as—what was the word?—varmints.\"\n \n  \"Which brings us to the crux of the matter. You see, we're up against\na serious problem with regard to skirmishforms. A low birth rate.\nTherefore we've reluctantly taken to substitutes for the mass actions\nso dear to the heart of the sportsman. We've attempted to put an end to\nthese contests altogether....\"\n \n  Hoshick coughed explosively, sending a spray of wine into the air.\n\"What are you saying?\" he gasped. \"Are you proposing that Hoshick of\nthe Mosaic of the Two Dawns abandon honor....?\"\n \n  \"Sir!\" said Retief sternly. \"You forget yourself. I, Retief of the Red\nTape Mountain, make an alternate proposal more in keeping with the\nnewest sporting principles.\"\n \n  \"New?\" cried Hoshick. \"My dear Retief, what a pleasant surprise! I'm\nenthralled with novel modes. One gets so out of touch. Do elaborate.\"\n \n  \"It's quite simple, really. Each side selects a representative and the\ntwo individuals settle the issue between them.\"\n \n  \"I ... um ... fear I don't understand. What possible significance could\none attach to the activities of a couple of random skirmishforms?\"\n \n  \"I haven't made myself clear,\" said Retief. He took a sip of wine. \"We\ndon't involve the skirmishforms at all. That's quite passe.\"\n \n  \"You don't mean...?\"\n \n  \"That's right. You and me.\"\nOutside on the starlit sand Retief tossed aside the power pistol,\nfollowed it with the leather shirt Swazey had lent him. By the faint\nlight he could just make out the towering figure of the Flap-jack\nrearing up before him, his trappings gone. A silent rank of Flap-jack\nretainers were grouped behind him.\n \n  \"I fear I must lay aside the translator now, Retief,\" said Hoshick.\nHe sighed and rippled his fringe tentacles. \"My spawn-fellows will\nnever credit this. Such a curious turn fashion has taken. How much\nmore pleasant it is to observe the action of the skirmishforms from a\ndistance.\"\n \n  \"I suggest we use Tennessee rules,\" said Retief. \"They're very liberal.\nBiting, gouging, stomping, kneeing and of course choking, as well as\nthe usual punching, shoving and kicking.\"\n \n  \"Hmmm. These gambits seem geared to forms employing rigid\nendo-skeletons; I fear I shall be at a disadvantage.\"\n \n  \"Of course,\" Retief said, \"if you'd prefer a more plebeian type of\ncontest....\"\n \n  \"By no means. But perhaps we could rule out tentacle-twisting, just to\neven it.\"\n \n  \"Very well. Shall we begin?\"\n \n  With a rush Hoshick threw himself at Retief, who ducked, whirled, and\nleaped on the Flap-jack's back ... and felt himself flipped clear by\na mighty ripple of the alien's slab-like body. Retief rolled aside\nas Hoshick turned on him; he jumped to his feet and threw a right\nhay-maker to Hoshick's mid-section. The alien whipped his left fringe\naround in an arc that connected with Retief's jaw, sent him spinning\nonto his back ... and Hoshick's weight struck him.\nRetief twisted, tried to roll. The flat body of the alien blanketed\nhim. He worked an arm free, drumming blows on the leathery back.\nHoshick nestled closer.\n \n  Retief's air was running out. He heaved up against the smothering\nweight. Nothing budged.\n \n  It was like burial under a dump-truck-load of concrete.\n \n  He remembered the rangerform he had captured. The sensitive orifice\nhad been placed ventrally, in what would be the thoracic area....\n \n  He groped, felt tough hide set with horny granules. He would be missing\nskin tomorrow ... if there was a tomorrow. His thumb found the orifice\nand probed.\n \n  The Flap-jack recoiled. Retief held fast, probed deeper, groping with\nthe other hand. If the alien were bilaterally symmetrical there would\nbe a set of ready made hand-holds....\nThere were.\n \n  Retief dug in and the Flap-jack writhed, pulled away. Retief held on,\nscrambled to his feet, threw his weight against the alien and fell on\ntop of him, still gouging. Hoshick rippled his fringe wildly, flopped\nin terror, then went limp.\n \n  Retief relaxed, released his hold and got to his feet, breathing hard.\nHoshick humped himself over onto his ventral side, lifted and moved\ngingerly over to the sidelines. His retainers came forward, assisted\nhim into his trappings, strapped on the translator. He sighed heavily,\nadjusted the volume.\n \n  \"There is much to be said for the old system,\" he said. \"What a burden\none's sportsmanship places on one at times.\"\n \n  \"Great sport, wasn't it?\" said Retief. \"Now, I know you'll be eager to\ncontinue. If you'll just wait while I run back and fetch some of our\ngougerforms—\"\n \n  \"May hide-ticks devour the gougerforms!\" Hoshick bellowed. \"You've\ngiven me such a sprong-ache as I'll remember each spawning-time for a\nyear.\"\n \n  \"Speaking of hide-ticks,\" said Retief, \"we've developed a biterform—\"\n \n  \"Enough!\" Hoshick roared, so loudly that the translator bounced on his\nhide. \"Suddenly I yearn for the crowded yellow sands of Jaq. I had\nhoped....\" He broke off, drew a rasping breath. \"I had hoped, Retief,\"\nhe said, speaking sadly now, \"to find a new land here where I might\nplan my own Mosaic, till these alien sands and bring forth such a crop\nof paradise-lichen as should glut the markets of a hundred worlds. But\nmy spirit is not equal to the prospect of biterforms and gougerforms\nwithout end. I am shamed before you....\"\n \n  \"To tell you the truth, I'm old-fashioned myself. I'd rather watch the\naction from a distance too.\"\n \n  \"But surely your spawn-fellows would never condone such an attitude.\"\n \n  \"My spawn-fellows aren't here. And besides, didn't I mention it? No\none who's really in the know would think of engaging in competition by\nmere combat if there were any other way. Now, you mentioned tilling the\nsand, raising lichens—things like that—\"\n \n  \"That on which we dined but now,\" said Hoshick, \"and from which the\nwine is made.\"\n \n  \"The big news in fashionable diplomacy today is farming competition.\nNow, if you'd like to take these deserts and raise lichen, we'll\npromise to stick to the oases and vegetables.\"\n \n  Hoshick curled his back in attention. \"Retief, you're quite serious?\nYou would leave all the fair sand hills to us?\"\n \n  \"The whole works, Hoshick. I'll take the oases.\"\n \n  Hoshick rippled his fringes ecstatically. \"Once again you have outdone\nme, Retief,\" he cried. \"This time, in generosity.\"\n \n  \"We'll talk over the details later. I'm sure we can establish a set of\nrules that will satisfy all parties. Now I've got to get back. I think\nsome of the gougerforms are waiting to see me.\"\nIV\n \n  It was nearly dawn when Retief gave the whistled signal he had agreed\non with Potter, then rose and walked into the camp circle. Swazey stood\nup.\n \n  \"There you are,\" he said. \"We been wonderin' whether to go out after\nyou.\"\n \n  Lemuel came forward, one eye black to the cheekbone. He held out a\nraw-boned hand. \"Sorry I jumped you, stranger. Tell you the truth, I\nthought you was some kind of stool-pigeon from the CDT.\"\n \n  Bert came up behind Lemuel. \"How do you know he ain't, Lemuel?\" he\nsaid. \"Maybe he—\"\n \n  Lemuel floored Bert with a backward sweep of his arm. \"Next\ncotton-picker says some embassy Johnny can cool me gets worse'n that.\"\n \n  \"Tell me,\" said Retief. \"How are you boys fixed for wine?\"\n \n  \"Wine? Mister, we been livin' on stump water for a year now. 'Dobe's\nfatal to the kind of bacteria it takes to ferment likker.\"\n \n  \"Try this.\" Retief handed over a sqat jug. Swazey drew the cork,\nsniffed, drank and passed it to Lemuel.\n \n  \"Mister, where'd you get that?\"\n \n  \"The Flap-jacks make it. Here's another question for you: Would you\nconcede a share in this planet to the Flap-jacks in return for a peace\nguarantee?\"\n \n  At the end of a half hour of heated debate Lemuel turned to Retief.\n\"We'll make any reasonable deal,\" he said. \"I guess they got as much\nright here as we have. I think we'd agree to a fifty-fifty split.\nThat'd give about a hundred and fifty oases to each side.\"\n \n  \"What would you say to keeping all the oases and giving them the\ndesert?\"\n \n  Lemuel reached for the wine jug, eyes on Retief. \"Keep talkin',\nmister,\" he said. \"I think you got yourself a deal.\"\nConsul Passwyn glanced up at Retief, went on perusing a paper.\n \n  \"Sit down, Retief,\" he said absently. \"I thought you were over on\nPueblo, or Mud-flat, or whatever they call that desert.\"\n \n  \"I'm back.\"\n \n  Passwyn eyed him sharply. \"Well, well, what is it you need, man? Speak\nup. Don't expect me to request any military assistance, no matter how\nthings are....\"\n \n  Retief passed a bundle of documents across the desk. \"Here's the\nTreaty. And a Mutual Assistance Pact declaration and a trade agreement.\"\n \n  \"Eh?\" Passwyn picked up the papers, riffled through them. He leaned\nback in his chair, beamed.\n \n  \"Well, Retief. Expeditiously handled.\" He stopped, blinked at Retief.\n\"You seem to have a bruise on your jaw. I hope you've been conducting\nyourself as befits a member of the Embassy staff.\"\n \n  \"I attended a sporting event,\" Retief said. \"One of the players got a\nlittle excited.\"\n \n  \"Well ... it's one of the hazards of the profession. One must\npretend an interest in such matters.\" Passwyn rose, extended a hand.\n\"You've done well, my boy. Let this teach you the value of following\ninstructions to the letter.\"\n \n  Outside, by the hall incinerator drop, Retief paused long enough to\ntake from his briefcase a large buff envelope, still sealed, and drop\nit in the slot.\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's Retief of the Red-Tape Mountain, by Keith Laumer\n\n", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5763f1a9afc945e3979933028291e984", "response_text": " The story begins with Consul Passwyn giving an assignment in a sealed envelope to Vice-Consul Retief, who is a diplomat with the Embassy. His mission is to visit the planet of Adobe and broker a land treaty between the Terrestrial settlers and an invading species, the Jaq. Before Retief leaves, Passwyn stresses the importance of following his orders exactly as written and acknowledges that no one from the Embassy has visited Adobe before, nor do they know the characteristics of the Jaq. Retief gets a ride to Adobe on a mail carrier with the help of a veteran pilot. When the pilot discovers they are entering the planet in the midst of war, he decides to leave on a lifeboat and gives control of the skiff to Retief. Then, Retief crash lands the skiff in order to avoid being blown up by a fission missile that was tracking him on his course. He lands in the middle of an Adoban oasis and immediately encounters a Terrestrial man named Potter, who confuses him for the cousin of one of his associates, Lemuel. Potter tells Retief about his group's history with the Jaqs, whom he refers to as \"Flap-jacks\" due to their wide, flat, tentacled bodies. Along with a team of settlers including Swazey, Lemuel, and Bert, Potter has been spending his days protecting his farms against attacks by the Jaqs after they mistakenly killed one three months prior, having mistaken it for one of the native species. Potter and his team do not trust the Embassy, having heard they are sending a representative to tell them to ceded control of the oases to the Jaqs. When they discover Retief is not Lemuel's cousin, Lemuel confronts Retief, who swiftly establishes his authority by knocking him out cold. When the group senses a Jaq nearby, Retief insists on dealing with the issue by himself. He hunts down the Jaq, they wrestle, and he assumes control by pressing his thumb against the Jaq’s eye hole. The captive Jaq leads Retief to the Jaq headquarters, where he is introduced to their leader, Hoshick. Retief discovers the affability of the species and particularly their penchant for proper sportsmanship. He uses this knowledge to his advantage, and convinces Hoshick that it would be more sportsmanlike to abandon the war efforts and solve their differences through a simple wrestling match. Once again, he wins the match by squeezing his thumb against Hoshick’s eye hole, and he convinces Hoshick to agree to cede control of the entirety of the oases to the Terrestrials and his people would be gifted all of the planets’ desert areas. Upon returning to the Embassy, Retief tells Consul Passwyn the good news and then burns the envelope Passwyn had given him at the beginning of the story."}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "214208d3ae8f44efb780457d42fd1103", "response_text": "Consul Passwyn sends Vice-Consul Retief to Adobe to negotiate a peace deal between the native Jaqs and the human settlers who have moved there. Retief travels to Adobe on the mail ship, but as they near the planet, the pilot points out that there is fighting going on that he can see from fifty miles out; he refuses to land there to deliver Retief but offers Retief the use of the skiff. \n\nAs Retief begins heading toward the planet, he is tracked by a fission weapon. He outmaneuvers the bomb and lands on the planet where he soon encounters one of the settlers. They fight until the man realizes Retief is a human, introduces himself as Potter, and takes Retief to his camp where other men are. The men explain the history of their conflict with the Flap-jacks, saying that one of their men saw one and shot it thinking it was some sort of native game. After that, the Flap-jacks showed up at a farm and killed two cows. Since then, the two sides have been attacking each other back and forth.\n\nLemuel arrives and asks Retief who he is spying for as he pulls a weapon on him. Retief tells him to put the weapon up and then punches Lemuel quickly when he doesn’t. Suddenly, they hear a noise; Retief throws a bucket of water on their fire, and they all dive for cover. Retief then announces he will go out by himself. \n\nAway from the camp, Retief sits and waits until a Flap-jack attacks him. He fights back and struggles but then manages to put his thumb in the creature’s eye, which subdues it. Then he has the creature take him to its leader. In the Flap-jack’s camp, Retief offers himself as a prisoner and is taken to the leader, who introduces himself as Hoshick of the Mosaic of the Two Dawns. Retief introduces himself as Retief of the Mountain of Red Tape. The two have dinner as Hoshick explains the Flap-jacks' history with the settlers. They think the settlers are sportsmen who enjoy skirmishes, so every time the setters attack them, the Flap-jacks attack back. The Flap-jacks plan to bring in more equipment and skirmishers to match the settlers. Hoshick says he personally prefers a more limited skirmish without nuclear or radiation-effect weapons. \n\nRetief suggests eliminating the weapons and explains that the settlers only use them when they think they are fighting against lower life forms. In further discussion, he learns that the Flap-jacks are worried that the settlers want to take over the deserts they need to grow the lichens they use for their food and wine. The Flap-jacks have no use for the oases. Retief brokers a deal where the Flap-jacks get all the deserts, and the settlers get all the oases.\n\nRetief briefs Passwyn when he returns to Ivory but does not reveal that he never opened the envelope containing his orders.\n"}, {"worker_id": "9", "uid": "54fb79669123452bbaeb31b2dc4ec4d8", "response_text": "A Vice-Consul named Retief is sent to the planet Adobe to settle a dispute between the human settlers there and an indigenous species called the Jaq. He is given a thick envelope of instructions by his superior, Consul Passwyn, who tells him to follow them to the letter with no improvisation. Passwyn makes it clear that he thinks it will take a miracle to pull this mission off, but still tells Retief that he expects results. \n\nRetief lands on Adobe under arduous circumstances, during which his pilot bails out of the plane, he narrowly misses an atomic fission weapon, and he is immediately shot at upon landing. The shooter turns out to be Potter, a human who mistook Retief for a Jaq (or, as the human settlers refer to them, a “flap-jack”). He now assumes that Retief is the cousin of someone called “Lemuel”, and brings him back to the other humans without letting Retief clarify his real identity. \n\nThe other humans are glad to see him, thinking he’s a reinforcement. They tell him that they’ve been engaged in back-and-forth raids with the Flap-jacks, and also that they’ve heard that a bureaucrat is coming to talk them out of the dispute. Lemuel enters and reveals that Retief is not his cousin. He asks Retief who he is spying for and threatens him, at which time Retief easily subdues him in 1-2 punches, much to the awe of the other humans.\n\nRetief senses something outside and insists on looking into it alone. He hides and waits for a Jaq to attack him, and he subdues it by gouging its eye. He asks to see its leader, and is brought to the Jaq headquarters to dine and meet with Hoshick of the Mosaic of the Two Dawns. \n\nRetief and Hoshick eat and discuss how best to conduct next steps in the ongoing battle between the Jaq and the human settlers, of whom Hoshick seems to assume Retief is the leader. They discuss banning certain weapons, until Retief eventually gets Hoshick to agree to combat between the two of them. After discussing a few rules,  they commence to fight. Hoshick does well until Retief manages to gouge him until he goes limp. \n\nAfterward, Retief asks Hoshick if he would consider giving the human settlers the oases and vegetables on the planet if the humans would let the Jaq have all the desert areas. Hoshick likes the idea. \n\nRetief goes back to the human camp, gives them some wine and offers the same deal. They are equally happy to take the oases and give up the desert. \n\nWe then find Retief back with Consul Passwyn, who is shocked at the success of the mission. Passwyn, who never seems to give praise where it is actually due, says it’s a good lesson about how things go when you follow instructions exactly. After Retief leaves the office, he tosses the envelope of instructions into the trash, still unopened. \n"}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "9be358ce45834ce4976c218772aa09d1", "response_text": "Consul Passwyn meets with Vice-Consul Retief. Passwyn explains that Terrestrial settlers came to Adobe thinking it was uninhabited, but they started a war with the indigenous life form, the Flap-jacks. Passwyn hands Retief an envelope and tells him that he must handle the situation without any impromptu actions. \n\nThe mail pilot that is supposed to take Retief to Adobe refuses to do his job after he sees that there is a war going on. Retief pilots the skiff himself and crash lands on the planet. He gets out, enters a jungle-like habitat, and immediately looks for cover. A stocky man shoots at Retief, and Retief tackles him to the ground. The man, Potter, tells him that they’ve been waiting for help from Ivory to come and battle the Flap-jacks. \n\nPotter takes Retief to meet with his comrades, and the men explain that the Flap-jacks have recently started using superior weaponry, and more Terrestrials have been killed. Lemuel walks up, butts in the men’s conversation, points a gun at Retief, and accuses him of being a spy. Retief responds by punching Lemuel in the face and knocking him unconscious. The men hear a noise and get down on the ground. Retief tells the others that he’s going to check it out by himself. \n\nRetief enters the desert of Flap-jack country. A Flap-jack attacks him, and in response he is able to wrap his arms around the alien and put his thumb into the creature’s eye. The Flap-jack agrees to take Retief to his leader.\n\nAfter a short walk, Retief crawls on the ground to enter a cave. The leader, Hoshick of the Mosaic of the Two Dawns, congratulates Retief on being a worthy adversary. Hoshick uses a translating device to speak to Retief, and he offers the Terrestrial delicious food and several servings of tasty yellow wine. \n\nRetief asks Hoshick to consider getting rid of all weapons, and he suggests that this is the modern and polite way to fight. Weapons are reserved for vermin. He then goes one step further and asks Hoshick to keep the fight between the two of them. \n\nRetief and Hoshick go outside, remove their weapons, and engage in one-on-one combat. Retief remembers his trick and gouges Hoshick’s eye. Retief wins, and Hoshick agrees to give the Terrestrials the sand that the Flap-jacks desperately want to harvest lichen for their wine. Retief offers to allow the Flap-jacks to keep the desert as long as the Terrestrials can have all of the oases and vegetable farming land. \n\nRetief returns to Potter, Lemuel, Swazey, and Bert. He has the men try the wine that Hoshick gifted to him and tells them about the deal he made. He hands the Treaty and the other important paperwork to Passwyn. Passwyn congratulates him on a job well done and by the book. Retief takes his original envelope of instructions and throws it in the incinerator. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the relationship between the Jaqs and the Terrestrials throughout the story?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5763f1a9afc945e3979933028291e984", "response_text": "The Jaq are a flat, wide-bodied species with tentacles and a tender orifice at the center of their bodies where a human chest would normally be. They are led by Hoshick, who has a strong interest in mining the deserts of Adobe for a special lichen used to craft their yellow wine. This wine would then be sold to planets across the universe. The Jaq make their headquarters in the desert. In the scattered oases of Adobe, the Terrestrial settlers have built farms in the rich soil of the planet's surface. The Terrestrials refer to the Jaq as \"Flap-jacks\" due to their unique physicality. One day, a Terrestrial man mistakes a Jaq for one of Adobe's native species, and he shoots and kills it. This ignites a war between the two groups. The central Terrestrials featured in the story--Potter, Lemuel, Bert, and Swazey--require assistance from their allies on Ivory because they only have three hundred men and are unsure they can defeat the Jaq. When the Embassy sends Retief to serve as an intermediary, he discovers that the two groups have similar interests--they each only want control of their separate areas. By craftily suggesting the use of weapons is no longer fashionable, Retief neutralizes the Jaq artillery and is able to convince both groups to reach a peace treaty. And, as it turns out, the Terrestrial settlements no longer have wine, so the adjacent existence of Jaq wine fields would have a mutual benefit."}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "214208d3ae8f44efb780457d42fd1103", "response_text": "The Jaqs and the Terrestrials fight each other throughout the story. It started when a human saw a Jaq and thought it was some type of native game and shot it. From that incident, the Jaqs concluded that the humans were sportsmen like themselves and responded by going to one of the farms and killing two cows. Since then, the two sides have been attacking back and forth, and the humans think the Jaqs are fighting against them. Hoshick explains that he actually prefers the skirmishes to be without weapons. Until Retief meets with the Jaqs and talks with Hoshick, none of the humans had interacted with the Jaqs peacefully. The humans think the Jaqs want to take over all the oases, and the Jaqs think the humans want to take over all the deserts."}, {"worker_id": "9", "uid": "54fb79669123452bbaeb31b2dc4ec4d8", "response_text": "The Jaqs and Terrestrials are at odds with each other over territorial rights on Adobe, but they clearly know nothing about each other, nor what the other group actually wants. A Terrestrial set off the disagreement by shooting at a Jaq, and the Jaqs have apparently killed several cows thinking they are humans. The Jaqs also believe that they are giving the Terrestrials what they want because they consider them fellow “sportsmen”, while the Terrestrials are actually dwindling in number and living in fear. While they continue raiding each other without talking, they fail to understand that different parts of the planet interest them, and they need not fight at all. By the end of the story, Retief has settled the dispute and both parties have been given the lands they desire; they now all happily reside on the planet together under the new agreement. \n"}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "9be358ce45834ce4976c218772aa09d1", "response_text": "The Terrestrials show up on Adobe thinking the land is uninhabited, but they quickly learn that the Flap-jacks are also there. One of the men shoots at an Adoban, and for three months, the Terrestrials engage in battle with the aliens. The Flap-jacks attack Swayzey’s farm and kill two of his cows. The next time they showed up, Potter and Swazey shot at them. The men describe the aliens as dirty blankets. \n\nThe Flap-jacks begin using more advanced weaponry, like airships and automatic rifles. With their new technology, they are able to kill more Terrestrials. The men are very concerned about protecting their farmlands, and they believe the aliens want to take them. \n\nRetief is put in charge of mending the relationship between the Terrestrials and the Flap-jacks, so he goes to meet with their leader. He learns how to appropriately attack a Flap-jack when one of them charges at him when he enters their territory. The aliens are muscular and heavy with fringe-tentacles, and Retief is able to subdue the Flap-jack by gouging its eye with his thumb. \n\nThe Flap-jack’s leader, Hoshick, is immediately cordial towards Retief. Hoshick must use a translating device to speak to him, but he is open to all kinds of suggestions from Retief. He has his waiter serve food and wine during their meeting, and he explains that once they figured out the Terrestrials were sportsmen, they wanted to up the ante and show them a good time with their advanced weaponry. In fact, Hoshick called in an additional hundred Adobans to make the fight more interesting. \n\nHoshick is quickly convinced that fighting with weapons is a lowly thing to do, and he agrees to fight Retief one-on-one. Hoshick loses the fight when Retief sticks his thumb in the alien’s eye. Hoshick is willing to give the Terrestrials all of their land, but he admits that he’s disappointed that he won’t be able to continue farming lichens in the desert in order to make their delicious and profitable wine. \n\nRetief agrees that the Flap-jacks can keep the sand hills they need for harvesting lichens as long as the Terrestrials can have the oases and the farmlands. Essentially, the entire war was a miscommunication. Neither side wanted what the other had, but without a discussion about why each party was on Adobe, it was completely unclear to everyone that their motivations were dissimilar. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Where does the story take place?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5763f1a9afc945e3979933028291e984", "response_text": "The story begins on the planet of Ivory, where Retief meets with his superior, Consul Passwyn. This seems to be the headquarters of the CDT, a kind of intergalactic governing body concerned with diplomatic efforts. The majority of the story's action takes place on the planet of Adobe. The planet is covered with vast deserts and spotted with several oases. The oases are like jungles with hot air, dense foliage, and dwarf trees along with a variety of wildlife from lizards to insects. They used to be sea-beds and therefore have rich soil for planting. The Terrestrials settlers live and built farms there. The Jaq built their headquarters in the midst of the deserts, where they prefer to stay for their rich resource of lichen used to produce wine. When Retief crash-lands on Adobe, he meets the Terrestrials in an oasis and eventually crosses over into the desert when he goes to consult with the leader of the Jaq, Hoshick. The Jaq headquarters is a comfort-dome with red lights, granite tables, fine silverware and glassware, pink walls, and a low-lying ceiling. Retief meets with Hoshick here and convinces him to engage in a skirmish. He then fights and defeats the leader outside the headquarters in the bright sand. After securing the deal, Retief returns to Ivory to report on the success of his mission."}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "214208d3ae8f44efb780457d42fd1103", "response_text": "The story begins and ends on a planet called Ivory. It is the location of the CDT and the Embassy where Retief works. The rest of the story takes place on a planet called Adobe, which has a native life form that the Terrestrial settlers call Flap-jacks. Adobe has deserts and oases. The human settlers have farms on the oases where they raise crops and cattle to help feed the space system. The Flap-jacks live in the desert where they can grow the lichens that they use for food and wine. The temperature during the daytime is warm, and the oases support trees, animals, insects, and the humans living there. The oases are old sea-beds and have good, deep topsoil. The Flap-jacks live in a comfort-dome that has a low ceiling about five feet high. The walls are a pink-colored nacre, and the floor looks like burgundy glass and is covered with silk rugs."}, {"worker_id": "9", "uid": "54fb79669123452bbaeb31b2dc4ec4d8", "response_text": "The majority of the story takes place on the planet Adobe, which has multiple topographical and climate features including a humid jungle, temperate oases, and rolling deserts. Retief reaches the planet via an aircrafts, and once there he visits several locations. He visits the camp of the Terrestrials, outdoors around a fire, as well as the low-to-the-ground but comparatively lavish dwellings of the Jaqs. These are surrounded by thorned branches for protection, but the inside of the Jaq headquarters is adorned with fine textures and surfaces like granite, silk, silver, and rose-crystal. Retief also spends the beginning and end of the story back at his unspecified posting with his superior, which is apparently quite rural and rugged. \n"}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "9be358ce45834ce4976c218772aa09d1", "response_text": "The story takes place on Adobe. The Terrestrials have recently started farming there, and the Flap-jacks are also farming, but they are using the sand hills to grow lichens to make wine. The Flap-jack’s side is desert, and the Terrestrial’s side is more of a jungle. There are dwarf trees, song lizards, and insects, as wells as foliage and bushes. \n\nThe Terrestrials are using the land to keep their cattle, and they also value the dozens of oases. The ponds are a mile deep with excellent topsoil. \n\nIn the desert portion of the land, the leader of the Flap-jacks holds court in a cave surrounded by thorn branches. The cave’s ceiling is not very tall, and it is decorated with silk rugs, polished red granite, silver dishes, and rose-crystal drinking glasses. \n\nAdobe is a place that both Flap-jacks and Terrestrials can use to their advantage, and they have nothing to fight over because the resources they desire to not overlap at all.\n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the significance of wine in the story?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5763f1a9afc945e3979933028291e984", "response_text": "Wine is the essential reason the Jaq came to Adobe in the first place. Their leader, Hoshick, envisioned sourcing its vast deserts for lichen. This lichen would then be used to produce a yellow wine that could be sold to planets all around the universe. When Retief first meets Hoshick, the Jaq leader provides him with a rose-crystal drinking-tube, from which they are able to sample this wine. Retief notes that the wine tastes delicious and smells good and reminds him of Chateau d'Yquem. This detail reveals the Jaq's interest in the finer things in life, in appearing distinguished. This interest is reflected in all of the Jaq's interactions with Retief, including his ability to be coerced into hand-to-hand combat because he deems it a more modern, sportsmanlike way of resolving issues. Wine again becomes important after Retief wins the fight and gets Hoshick to agree to the terms of his proposed land treaty with the Terrestrials. After Hoshick agrees, Retief attempts to convince the Terrestrials to agree as well. After learning of the lack of wine within their settlements, Retief lets the Terrestrials sample the wine provided to him by the Jaq. Eventually, the Terrestrials agree to the arrangement as well. Therefore, the wine is also a symbol of the newfound peace between the two previously warring groups."}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "214208d3ae8f44efb780457d42fd1103", "response_text": "The Jaqs make their own wine out of the lichens that they grow in the desert. The lichens will only grow in the desert, so the desert is extremely important to them. Their wine is of very high quality; in fact, Retief compares it to the wine from Chateau d’Yquem. The wine helps Retief arrange the deal to divide the land between the settlers and Jaqs in a way that is favorable to both sides. The human settlers have not been able to produce wine; they believe that the bacteria required to make it won’t grow on Yaq, so they have only been drinking stump water. Retief lets them try the Jaqs' wine, and they like it. This, along with the offer to give all of the deserts to the Jaqs and keep all of the oases for the humans, helps Retief work out the peace deal for the Jaqs and the settlers. \n"}, {"worker_id": "9", "uid": "54fb79669123452bbaeb31b2dc4ec4d8", "response_text": "Wine is significant in the story because it symbolizes how little the Jaqs and the Terrestrials know about one another, and how they can live harmoniously. The Terrestrials believe that Adobe is lethal to the process of making alcohol and that wine can’t be made. The Jaqs enjoy a sweet yellow wine made from lichens that they get from the desert. Retief settles the dispute with the Jaqs over wine, and then brings some with him to settle it with the Terrestrials, and both parties agree. The wine is a symbol of how their differing aims can complement each other and they can produce and trade different crops to benefit everyone. \n"}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "9be358ce45834ce4976c218772aa09d1", "response_text": "Wine is an important part of the story because the Flap-jacks have only come to Adobe to make their wine. The leader of the Flap-jacks, Hoshick, explains that he brought his people to the planet to build his own Mosaic and till the sands to grow paradise-lichen. He hoped to make delicious and expensive wine with the crop and sell it all over the universe. \n\nRetief tries the wine during his conversation with Hoshick, and he compares the beverage to Chateau d'Yquem. When he takes some back to his men, they also find the wine to be wonderful. \n\nIf the Terrestrials had known in the beginning that the Flap-jacks were interested in harvesting the lichens in the sand, they never would have tried to engage in battle with them.\n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the significance of the fission weapon in the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5763f1a9afc945e3979933028291e984", "response_text": "After Retief takes command of the mail skiff, he narrowly misses colliding with a warhead that tracks his trajectory. Thanks to a swift maneuver, Retief is able to dodge its impact and crash-lands on Adobe. However, due to the red blip on his radar screen, Retief is now aware that one of the warring groups on the planet is using illegal fission weapons in battle. Initially, he believes the Terrestrials were responsible for this, but after meeting Potter, he realizes his mistake. Potter informs him the Terrestrials do not have weapons of that kind, so it has to be Jaq weaponry. This information becomes important later when Retief meets Hoshick for the first time. As the leader of the Jaq, Hoshick informs Retief that the skirmishes were a result of a desire to engage in more sportsmanlike conduct on the battlefield. Retief realizes he can use this desire to his advantage and pushes Hoshick to question whether or not weapons are required at all in resolving conflict. He pushes this idea further by suggesting his own kind would never solve problems with weapons, despite one of the Jaqs having been previously shot down by them. Retief excuses this by again playing into Hoshick's desire to appear more dignified and saying the shooting was a failure to recognize the Jaq as sportsmen. This tactic works, and he is able to use it to convince Hoshick to engage in hand-to-hand combat, which eventually leads to the resolution of the war."}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "214208d3ae8f44efb780457d42fd1103", "response_text": "The fission weapon is an indication of the intelligence and resources of the Jaqs, although at first, Retief doesn’t know whose weapon it is. The fission weapon tracks the object it seeks and follows it. Retief is only able to avoid colliding with it by flying straight toward it at the last minute and passing it before it explodes. The leader of the Jaqs, Hoshick, says that he would prefer a contest without nuclear or radiation-effect weapons because it is such a bore having to screen the spawn for deviations afterward. Retief readily agrees that the humans will not use atomic weapons either for the same reason and because it wastes troops. This agreement is the first concession by the Jaqs and the humans about the fighting and is followed by other concessions that are advantageous to both sides."}, {"worker_id": "9", "uid": "54fb79669123452bbaeb31b2dc4ec4d8", "response_text": "The fission weapon is significant in the story for a few reasons. It nearly takes down the aircraft that Retief is flying to Adobe. He later finds out that the Jaqs have been using them in order to give the Terrestrials a good show of strength, and that their nuclear/radiation effect has spawned more creatures, such as the one that Retief briefly takes captive. The Terrestrials tell Retief that they don’t have access to such weapons and that the Jaqs have been leveling up their weaponry; unbeknownst to them, the Jaqs have done so to try to compete with them. \n"}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "9be358ce45834ce4976c218772aa09d1", "response_text": "The fission weapon is important because it almost kills Retief.\n\nRetief encounters the fission weapon when he is piloting the skiff alone towards Adobe. His original pilot refuses to transport him to the planet because he can see that there are missiles and other weapons in use. The pilot does not want to get killed, and he insists that Retief can die if that’s what he wants to do.\n\nWhile Retief is flying towards Adobe, he sees a red blip show up on the screen of the skiff. Retief feels nervous and panicky because the red dot means that someone has deployed a warhead that emits heavy radiation, also known as a fission weapon. The fission weapon has been outlawed. He hopes that his skiff has not been spotted, and he changes course to avoid the warhead. When the missile comes within five miles of his vehicle, Retief decides to accelerate as fast as possible. He just makes it past the missile, and it explodes mid-air. The fission weapon makes Retief crash land on the planet. His skiff fills with smoke and his screen breaks. \n"}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "61434", "uid": "3b89dad4494941419ae5948cb69688e1", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "\n\n\n\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\nMIGHTIEST QORN\nBY KEITH LAUMER\nSly, brave and truculent, the Qornt\n   \n  held all humans in contempt—except one!\n \n  [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from\n   \n  Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1963.\n   \n  Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\n   \n  the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\nI\n \n  Ambassador Nitworth glowered across his mirror-polished, nine-foot\nplatinum desk at his assembled staff.\n \n  \"Gentlemen, are any of you familiar with a race known as the Qornt?\"\n \n  There was a moment of profound silence. Nitworth leaned forward,\nlooking solemn.\n \n  \"They were a warlike race known in this sector back in Concordiat\ntimes, perhaps two hundred years ago. They vanished as suddenly as\nthey had appeared. There was no record of where they went.\" He paused\nfor effect.\n \n  \"They have now reappeared—occupying the inner planet of this system!\"\n \n  \"But, sir,\" Second Secretary Magnan offered. \"That's uninhabited\nTerrestrial territory....\"\n \n  \"Indeed, Mr. Magnan?\" Nitworth smiled icily. \"It appears the Qornt do\nnot share that opinion.\" He plucked a heavy parchment from a folder\nbefore him, harrumphed and read aloud:\n \n  His Supreme Excellency The Qorn, Regent of Qornt, Over-Lord of the\nGalactic Destiny, Greets the Terrestrials and, with reference to the\npresence in mandated territory of Terrestrial squatters, has the honor\nto advise that he will require the use of his outer world on the\nthirtieth day. Then will the Qornt come with steel and fire. Receive,\nTerrestrials, renewed assurances of my awareness of your existence,\nand let Those who dare gird for the contest.\n \n  \"Frankly, I wouldn't call it conciliatory,\" Magnan said.\n \n  Nitworth tapped the paper with a finger.\n \n  \"We have been served, gentlemen, with nothing less than an Ultimatum!\"\n \n  \"Well, we'll soon straighten these fellows out—\" the Military Attache\nbegan.\n \n  \"There happens to be more to this piece of truculence than appears on\nthe surface,\" the Ambassador cut in. He paused, waiting for interested\nfrowns to settle into place.\n \n  \"Note, gentlemen, that these invaders have appeared on terrestrial\ncontrolled soil—and without so much as a flicker from the instruments\nof the Navigational Monitor Service!\"\n \n  The Military Attache blinked. \"That's absurd,\" he said flatly. Nitworth\nslapped the table.\n \n  \"We're up against something new, gentlemen! I've considered every\nhypothesis from cloaks of invisibility to time travel! The fact is—the\nQornt fleets are indetectible!\"\nThe Military Attache pulled at his lower lip. \"In that case, we can't\ntry conclusions with these fellows until we have an indetectible drive\nof our own. I recommend a crash project. In the meantime—\"\n \n  \"I'll have my boys start in to crack this thing,\" the Chief of the\nConfidential Terrestrial Source Section spoke up. \"I'll fit out a\ncouple of volunteers with plastic beaks—\"\n \n  \"No cloak and dagger work, gentlemen! Long range policy will be\nworked out by Deep-Think teams back at the Department. Our role will\nbe a holding action. Now I want suggestions for a comprehensive,\nwell rounded and decisive course for meeting this threat. Any\nrecommendation?\"\n \n  The Political Officer placed his fingertips together. \"What about a\nstiff Note demanding an extra week's time?\"\n \n  \"No! No begging,\" the Economic Officer objected. \"I'd say a calm,\ndignified, aggressive withdrawal—as soon as possible.\"\n \n  \"We don't want to give them the idea we spook easily,\" the Military\nAttache said. \"Let's delay the withdrawal—say, until tomorrow.\"\n \n  \"Early tomorrow,\" Magnan said. \"Or maybe later today.\"\n \n  \"Well, I see you're of a mind with me,\" Nitworth nodded. \"Our plan of\naction is clear, but it remains to be implemented. We have a population\nof over fifteen million individuals to relocate.\" He eyed the\nPolitical Officer. \"I want five proposals for resettlement on my desk\nby oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow.\" Nitworth rapped out instructions.\nHarried-looking staff members arose and hurried from the room. Magnan\neased toward the door.\n \n  \"Where are you going, Magnan?\" Nitworth snapped.\n \n  \"Since you're so busy, I thought I'd just slip back down to Com Inq. It\nwas a most interesting orientation lecture, Mr. Ambassador. Be sure to\nlet us know how it works out.\"\n \n  \"Kindly return to your chair,\" Nitworth said coldly. \"A number of\nchores remain to be assigned. I think you, Magnan, need a little field\nexperience. I want you to get over to Roolit I and take a look at these\nQornt personally.\"\n \n  Magnan's mouth opened and closed soundlessly.\n \n  \"Not afraid of a few Qornt, are you, Magnan?\"\n \n  \"Afraid? Good lord, no, ha ha. It's just that I'm afraid I may lose my\nhead and do something rash if I go.\"\n \n  \"Nonsense! A diplomat is immune to heroic impulses. Take Retief along.\nNo dawdling, now! I want you on the way in two hours. Notify the\ntransport pool at once. Now get going!\"\n \n  Magnan nodded unhappily and went into the hall.\n \n  \"Oh, Retief,\" Nitworth said. Retief turned.\n \n  \"Try to restrain Mr. Magnan from any impulsive moves—in any\ndirection.\"\nII\n \n  Retief and Magnan topped a ridge and looked down across a slope\nof towering tree-shrubs and glossy violet-stemmed palms set among\nflamboyant blossoms of yellow and red, reaching down to a strip of\nwhite beach with the blue sea beyond.\n \n  \"A delightful vista,\" Magnan said, mopping at his face. \"A pity we\ncouldn't locate the Qornt. We'll go back now and report—\"\n \n  \"I'm pretty sure the settlement is off to the right,\" Retief said. \"Why\ndon't you head back for the boat, while I ease over and see what I can\nobserve.\"\n \n  \"Retief, we're engaged in a serious mission. This is not a time to\nthink of sightseeing.\"\n \n  \"I'd like to take a good look at what we're giving away.\"\n \n  \"See here, Retief! One might almost receive the impression that you're\nquestioning Corps policy!\"\n \n  \"One might, at that. The Qornt have made their play, but I think it\nmight be valuable to take a look at their cards before we fold. If I'm\nnot back at the boat in an hour, lift without me.\"\n \n  \"You expect me to make my way back alone?\"\n \n  \"It's directly down-slope—\" Retief broke off, listening. Magnan\nclutched at his arm.\n \n  There was a sound of crackling foliage. Twenty feet ahead, a leafy\nbranch swung aside. An eight-foot biped stepped into view, long, thin,\ngreen-clad legs with back-bending knees moving in quick, bird-like\nsteps. A pair of immense black-lensed goggles covered staring eyes set\namong bushy green hair above a great bone-white beak. The crest bobbed\nas the creature cocked its head, listening.\n \n  Magnan gulped audibly. The Qornt froze, head tilted, beak aimed\ndirectly at the spot where the Terrestrials stood in the deep shade of\na giant trunk.\n \n  \"I'll go for help,\" Magnan squeaked. He whirled and took three leaps\ninto the brush.\n \n  A second great green-clad figure rose up to block his way. He spun,\ndarted to the left. The first Qornt pounced, grappled Magnan to its\nnarrow chest. Magnan yelled, threshing and kicking, broke free,\nturned—and collided with the eight-foot alien, coming in fast from the\nright. All three went down in a tangle of limbs.\n \n  Retief jumped forward, hauled Magnan free, thrust him aside and\nstopped, right fist cocked. The two Qornt lay groaning feebly.\n \n  \"Nice piece of work, Mr. Magnan,\" Retief said. \"You nailed both of\nthem.\"\n\"Those undoubtedly are the most bloodthirsty, aggressive, merciless\ncountenances it has ever been my misfortune to encounter,\" Magnan said.\n\"It hardly seems fair. Eight feet tall\nand\nfaces like that!\"\n \n  The smaller of the two captive Qornt ran long, slender fingers over\na bony shin, from which he had turned back the tight-fitting green\ntrousers.\n \n  \"It's not broken,\" he whistled nasally in passable Terrestrial, eyeing\nMagnan through the heavy goggles, now badly cracked. \"Small thanks to\nyou.\"\n \n  Magnan smiled loftily. \"I daresay you'll think twice before interfering\nwith peaceable diplomats in future.\"\n \n  \"Diplomats? Surely you jest.\"\n \n  \"Never mind us,\" Retief said. \"It's you fellows we'd like to talk\nabout. How many of you are there?\"\n \n  \"Only Zubb and myself.\"\n \n  \"I mean altogether. How many Qornt?\"\n \n  The alien whistled shrilly.\n \n  \"Here, no signalling!\" Magnan snapped, looking around.\n \n  \"That was merely an expression of amusement.\"\n \n  \"You find the situation amusing? I assure you, sir, you are in perilous\nstraits at the moment. I\nmay\nfly into another rage, you know.\"\n \n  \"Please, restrain yourself. I was merely somewhat astonished—\" a small\nwhistle escaped—\"at being taken for a Qornt.\"\n \n  \"Aren't you a Qornt?\"\n \n  \"I? Great snail trails, no!\" More stifled whistles of amusement escaped\nthe beaked face. \"Both Zubb and I are Verpp. Naturalists, as it\nhappens.\"\n \n  \"You certainly\nlook\nlike Qornt.\"\n \n  \"Oh, not at all—except perhaps to a Terrestrial. The Qornt are\nsturdily built rascals, all over ten feet in height. And, of course,\nthey do nothing but quarrel. A drone caste, actually.\"\n \n  \"A caste? You mean they're biologically the same as you?\"\n \n  \"Not at all! A Verpp wouldn't think of fertilizing a Qornt.\"\n \n  \"I mean to say, you are of the same basic stock—descended from a\ncommon ancestor, perhaps.\"\n \n  \"We are all Pud's creatures.\"\n \n  \"What are the differences between you, then?\"\n \n  \"Why, the Qornt are argumentive, boastful, lacking in appreciation\nfor the finer things of life. One dreads to contemplate descending to\ntheir\nlevel.\"\n \n  \"Do you know anything about a Note passed to the Terrestrial Ambassador\nat Smorbrod?\" Retief asked.\nThe beak twitched. \"Smorbrod? I know of no place called Smorbrod.\"\n \n  \"The outer planet of this system.\"\n \n  \"Oh, yes. We call it Guzzum. I had heard that some sort of creatures\nhad established a settlement there, but I confess I pay little note to\nsuch matters.\"\n \n  \"We're wasting time, Retief,\" Magnan said. \"We must truss these chaps\nup, hurry back to the boat and make our escape. You heard what they\nsaid.\"\n \n  \"Are there any Qornt down there at the harbor, where the boats are?\"\nRetief asked.\n \n  \"At Tarroon, you mean? Oh, yes. Planning some adventure.\"\n \n  \"That would be the invasion of Smorbrod,\" Magnan said. \"And unless we\nhurry, Retief, we're likely to be caught there with the last of the\nevacuees!\"\n \n  \"How many Qornt would you say there are at Tarroon?\"\n \n  \"Oh, a very large number. Perhaps fifteen or twenty.\"\n \n  \"Fifteen or twenty what?\" Magnan looked perplexed.\n \n  \"Fifteen or twenty Qornt.\"\n \n  \"You mean that there are only fifteen or twenty individual Qornt in\nall?\"\n \n  Another whistle. \"Not at all. I was referring to the local Qornt only.\nThere are more at the other Centers, of course.\"\n \n  \"And the Qornt are responsible for the ultimatum—unilaterally?\"\n \n  \"I suppose so; it sounds like them. A truculent group, you know. And\ninterplanetary relations\nare\nrather a hobby of theirs.\"\n \n  Zubb moaned and stirred. He sat up slowly, rubbing his head. He spoke\nto his companion in a shrill alien clatter of consonants.\n \n  \"What did he say?\"\n \n  \"Poor Zubb. He blames me for his bruises, since it was my idea to\ngather you as specimens.\"\n \n  \"You should have known better than to tackle that fierce-looking\ncreature,\" Zubb said, pointing his beak at Magnan.\n \n  \"How does it happen that you speak Terrestrial?\" Retief asked.\n \n  \"Oh, one picks up all sorts of dialects.\"\n \n  \"It's quite charming, really,\" Magnan said. \"Such a quaint, archaic\naccent.\"\n \n  \"Suppose we went down to Tarroon,\" Retief asked. \"What kind of\nreception would we get?\"\n \n  \"That depends. I wouldn't recommend interfering with the Gwil or the\nRheuk; it's their nest-mending time, you know. The Boog will be busy\nmating—such a tedious business—and of course the Qornt are tied up\nwith their ceremonial feasting. I'm afraid no one will take any notice\nof you.\"\n \n  \"Do you mean to say,\" Magnan demanded, \"that these ferocious Qornt, who\nhave issued an ultimatum to the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne—who\nopenly avow their occupied world—would ignore Terrestrials in their\nmidst?\"\n \n  \"If at all possible.\"\n \n  Retief got to his feet.\n \n  \"I think our course is clear, Mr. Magnan. It's up to us to go down and\nattract a little attention.\"\nIII\n \n  \"I'm not at all sure we're going about this in the right way,\" Magnan\npuffed, trotting at Retief's side. \"These fellows Zubb and Slun—Oh,\nthey seem affable enough, but how can we be sure we're not being led\ninto a trap?\"\n \n  \"We can't.\"\n \n  Magnan stopped short. \"Let's go back.\"\n \n  \"All right,\" Retief said. \"Of course there may be an ambush—\"\n \n  Magnan moved off. \"Let's keep going.\"\n \n  The party emerged from the undergrowth at the edge of a great\nbrush-grown mound. Slun took the lead, rounded the flank of the\nhillock, halted at a rectangular opening cut into the slope.\n \n  \"You can find your way easily enough from here,\" he said. \"You'll\nexcuse us, I hope—\"\n \n  \"Nonsense, Slun!\" Zubb pushed forward. \"I'll escort our guests to Qornt\nHall.\" He twittered briefly to his fellow Verpp. Slun twittered back.\n \n  \"I don't like it, Retief,\" Magnan whispered. \"Those fellows are\nplotting mischief.\"\n \n  \"Threaten them with violence, Mr Magnan. They're scared of you.\"\n \n  \"That's true. And the drubbing they received was well-deserved. I'm a\npatient man, but there are occasions—\"\n \n  \"Come along, please,\" Zubb called. \"Another ten minutes' walk—\"\n \n  \"See here, we have no interest in investigating this barrow,\" Magnan\nannounced. \"We wish you to take us direct to Tarroon to interview your\nmilitary leaders regarding the ultimatum!\"\n \n  \"Yes, yes, of course. Qornt Hall lies here inside the village.\"\n \n  \"This is Tarroon?\"\n \n  \"A modest civic center, sir, but there are those who love it.\"\n \n  \"No wonder we didn't observe their works from the air,\" Magnan\nmuttered. \"Camouflaged.\" He moved hesitantly through the opening.\n \n  The party moved along a wide, deserted tunnel which sloped down\nsteeply, then leveled off and branched. Zubb took the center branch,\nducking slightly under the nine-foot ceiling lit at intervals with what\nappeared to be primitive incandescent panels.\n \n  \"Few signs of an advanced technology here,\" Magnan whispered. \"These\ncreatures must devote all their talents to warlike enterprise.\"\n \n  Ahead, Zubb slowed. A distant susurration was audible, a sustained\nhigh-pitched screeching. \"Softly, now. We approach Qornt Hall. They\ncan be an irascible lot when disturbed at their feasting.\"\n \n  \"When will the feast be over?\" Magnan called hoarsely.\n \n  \"In another few weeks, I should imagine, if, as you say, they've\nscheduled an invasion for next month.\"\n \n  \"Look here, Zubb.\" Magnan shook a finger at the tall alien. \"How is it\nthat these Qornt are allowed to embark on piratical ventures of this\nsort without reference to the wishes of the majority?\"\n \n  \"Oh, the majority of the Qornt favor the move, I imagine.\"\n \n  \"These few hotheads are permitted to embroil the planet in war?\"\n \n  \"Oh, they don't embroil the planet in war. They merely—\"\n \n  \"Retief, this is fantastic! I've heard of iron-fisted military cliques\nbefore, but this is madness!\"\n \n  \"Come softly, now.\" Zubb beckoned, moving toward a bend in the\nyellow-lit corridor. Retief and Magnan moved forward.\nThe corridor debouched through a high double door into a vast oval\nchamber, high-domed, gloomy, paneled in dark wood and hung with\ntattered banners, scarred halberds, pikes, rusted longswords, crossed\nspears over patinaed hauberks, pitted radiation armor, corroded power\nrifles, the immense mummified heads of horned and fanged animals. Great\nguttering torches in wall brackets and in stands along the length\nof the long table shed a smoky light that reflected from the mirror\npolish of the red granite floor, gleamed on polished silver bowls and\npaper-thin glass, shone jewel-red and gold through dark bottles—and\ncast long flickering shadows behind the fifteen trolls at the board.\n \n  Lesser trolls—beaked, bush-haired, great-eyed—trotted briskly,\nbird-kneed, bearing steaming platters, stood in groups of\nthree strumming slender bottle-shaped lutes, or pranced an\nintricate-patterned dance, unnoticed in the shrill uproar as each of\nthe magnificently draped, belted, feathered and jeweled Qornt carried\non a shouted conversation with an equally noisy fellow.\n \n  \"A most interesting display of barbaric splendor,\" Magnan breathed.\n\"Now we'd better be getting back.\"\n \n  \"Ah, a moment,\" Zubb said. \"Observe the Qornt—the tallest of the\nfeasters—he with the head-dress of crimson, purple, silver and pink.\"\n \n  \"Twelve feet if he's an inch,\" Magnan estimated. \"And now we really\nmust hurry along—\"\n \n  \"That one is chief among these rowdies. I'm sure you'll want a word\nwith him. He controls not only the Tarroonian vessels but those from\nthe other Centers as well.\"\n \n  \"What kind of vessels? Warships?\"\n \n  \"Certainly. What other kind would the Qornt bother with?\"\n \n  \"I don't suppose,\" Magnan said casually, \"that you'd know the type,\ntonnage, armament and manning of these vessels? And how many units\ncomprise the fleet? And where they're based at present?\"\n \n  \"They're fully automated twenty-thousand-ton all-purpose dreadnaughts.\nThey mount a variety of weapons. The Qornt are fond of that sort of\nthing. Each of the Qornt has his own, of course. They're virtually\nidentical, except for the personal touches each individual has given\nhis ship.\"\n \n  \"Great heavens, Retief!\" Magnan exclaimed in a whisper. \"It sounds as\nthough these brutes employ a battle armada as simpler souls might a set\nof toy sailboats!\"\n \n  Retief stepped past Magnan and Zubb to study the feasting hall. \"I can\nsee that their votes would carry all the necessary weight.\"\n \n  \"And now an interview with the Qorn himself,\" Zubb shrilled. \"If you'll\nkindly step along, gentlemen....\"\n \n  \"That won't be necessary,\" Magnan said hastily, \"I've decided to refer\nthe matter to committee.\"\n \n  \"After having come so far,\" Zubb said, \"it would be a pity to miss\nhaving a cosy chat.\"\n \n  There was a pause.\n \n  \"Ah ... Retief,\" Magnan said. \"Zubb has just presented a most\ncompelling argument....\"\nRetief turned. Zubb stood gripping an ornately decorated power pistol\nin one bony hand, a slim needler in the other. Both were pointed at\nMagnan's chest.\n \n  \"I suspected you had hidden qualities, Zubb,\" Retief commented.\n \n  \"See here, Zubb! We're diplomats!\" Magnan started.\n \n  \"Careful, Mr. Magnan; you may goad him to a frenzy.\"\n \n  \"By no means,\" Zubb whistled. \"I much prefer to observe the frenzy\nof the Qornt when presented with the news that two peaceful Verpp\nhave been assaulted and kidnapped by bullying interlopers. If there's\nanything that annoys the Qornt, it's Qornt-like behavior in others. Now\nstep along, please.\"\n \n  \"Rest assured, this will be reported!\"\n \n  \"I doubt it.\"\n \n  \"You'll face the wrath of Enlightened Galactic Opinion!\"\n \n  \"Oh? How big a navy does Enlightened Galactic Opinion have?\"\n \n  \"Stop scaring him, Mr. Magnan. He may get nervous and shoot.\" Retief\nstepped into the banquet hall, headed for the resplendent figure at\nthe head of the table. A trio of flute-players broke off in mid-bleat,\nstaring. An inverted pyramid of tumblers blinked as Retief swung past,\nfollowed by Magnan and the tall Verpp. The shrill chatter at the table\nfaded.\n \n  Qorn turned as Retief came up, blinking three-inch eyes. Zubb stepped\nforward, gibbered, waving his arms excitedly. Qorn pushed back his\nchair—a low, heavily padded stool—and stared unwinking at Retief,\nmoving his head to bring first one great round eye, then the other, to\nbear. There were small blue veins in the immense fleshy beak. The bushy\nhair, springing out in a giant halo around the grayish, porous-skinned\nface, was wiry, stiff, moss-green, with tufts of chartreuse fuzz\nsurrounding what appeared to be tympanic membranes. The tall head-dress\nof scarlet silk and purple feathers was slightly askew, and a loop of\npink pearls had slipped down above one eye.\n \n  Zubb finished his speech and fell silent, breathing hard.\n \n  Qorn looked Retief over in silence, then belched.\n \n  \"Not bad,\" Retief said admiringly. \"Maybe we could get up a match\nbetween you and Ambassador Sternwheeler. You've got the volume on him,\nbut he's got timbre.\"\n \n  \"So,\" Qorn hooted in a resonant tenor. \"You come from Guzzum, eh? Or\nSmorbrod, as I think you call it. What is it you're after? More time?\nA compromise? Negotiations? Peace?\" He slammed a bony hand against the\ntable. \"The answer is\nno\n!\"\n \n  Zubb twittered. Qorn cocked an eye, motioned to a servant. \"Chain that\none.\" He indicated Magnan. His eyes went to Retief. \"This one's bigger;\nyou'd best chain him, too.\"\n \n  \"Why, your Excellency—\" Magnan started, stepping forward.\n \n  \"Stay back!\" Qorn hooted. \"Stand over there where I can keep an eye on\nyou.\"\n \n  \"Your Excellency, I'm empowered—\"\n \n  \"Not here, you're not!\" Qorn trumpeted. \"Want peace, do you? Well, I\ndon't want peace! I've had a surfeit of peace these last two centuries!\nI want action! Loot! Adventure! Glory!\" He turned to look down the\ntable. \"How about it, fellows? It's war to the knife, eh?\"\nThere was a momentary silence from all sides.\n \n  \"I guess so,\" grunted a giant Qornt in iridescent blue with\nflame-colored plumes.\n \n  Qorn's eyes bulged. He half rose. \"We've been all over this,\" he\nbassooned. He clamped bony fingers on the hilt of a light rapier. \"I\nthought I'd made my point!\"\n \n  \"Oh, sure, Qorn.\"\n \n  \"You bet.\"\n \n  \"I'm convinced.\"\n \n  Qorn rumbled and resumed his seat. \"All for one and one for all, that's\nus.\"\n \n  \"And you're the one, eh, Qorn?\" Retief commented.\n \n  Magnan cleared his throat. \"I sense that some of you gentlemen are not\nconvinced of the wisdom of this move,\" he piped, looking along the\ntable at the silks, jewels, beaks, feather-decked crests and staring\neyes.\n \n  \"Silence!\" Qorn hooted. \"No use your talking to my loyal lieutenants\nanyway,\" he added. \"They do whatever I convince them they ought to do.\"\n \n  \"But I'm sure that on more mature consideration—\"\n \n  \"I can lick any Qornt in the house.\" Qorn said. \"That's why I'm Qorn.\"\nHe belched again.\n \n  A servant came up staggering under a weight of chain, dropped it with a\ncrash at Magnan's feet. Zubb aimed the guns while the servant wrapped\nthree loops around Magnan's wrists, snapped a lock in place.\n \n  \"You next!\" The guns pointed at Retief's chest. He held out his arms.\nFour loops of silvery-gray chain in half-inch links dropped around\nthem. The servant cinched them up tight, squeezed a lock through the\nends and closed it.\n \n  \"Now,\" Qorn said, lolling back in his chair, glass in hand. \"There's a\nbit of sport to be had here, lads. What shall we do with them?\"\n \n  \"Let them go,\" the blue and flame Qornt said glumly.\n \n  \"You can do better than that,\" Qorn hooted. \"Now here's a suggestion:\nwe carve them up a little—lop off the external labiae and pinnae,\nsay—and ship them back.\"\n \n  \"Good lord! Retief, he's talking about cutting off our ears and sending\nus home mutilated! What a barbaric proposal!\"\n \n  \"It wouldn't be the first time a Terrestrial diplomat got a trimming,\"\nRetief commented.\n \n  \"It should have the effect of stimulating the Terries to put up a\nreasonable scrap,\" Qorn said judiciously. \"I have a feeling that\nthey're thinking of giving up without a struggle.\"\n \n  \"Oh, I doubt that,\" the blue-and-flame Qornt said. \"Why should they?\"\n \n  Qorn rolled an eye at Retief and another at Magnan. \"Take these two,\"\nhe hooted. \"I'll wager they came here to negotiate a surrender!\"\n \n  \"Well,\" Magnan started.\n \n  \"Hold it, Mr. Magnan,\" Retief said. \"I'll tell him.\"\n \n  \"What's your proposal?\" Qorn whistled, taking a gulp from his goblet.\n\"A fifty-fifty split? Monetary reparations? Alternate territory? I can\nassure you, it's useless. We Qornt\nlike\nto fight.\"\n \n  \"I'm afraid you've gotten the wrong impression, your Excellency,\"\nRetief said blandly. \"We didn't come to negotiate. We came to deliver\nan Ultimatum.\"\n \n  \"What?\" Qorn trumpeted. Behind Retief, Magnan spluttered.\n \n  \"We plan to use this planet for target practice,\" Retief said. \"A new\ntype hell bomb we've worked out. Have all your people off of it in\nseventy-two hours, or suffer the consequences.\"\nIV\n \n  \"You have the gall,\" Qorn stormed, \"to stand here in the center of\nQornt Hall—uninvited, at that—and in chains—\"\n \n  \"Oh, these,\" Retief said. He tensed his arms. The soft aluminum links\nstretched and broke. He shook the light metal free. \"We diplomats like\nto go along with colorful local customs, but I wouldn't want to mislead\nyou. Now, as to the evacuation of Roolit I—\"\nZubb screeched, waved the guns. The Qornt were jabbering.\n \n  \"I told you they were brutes,\" Zubb shrilled.\n \n  Qorn slammed his fist down on the table. \"I don't care what they are!\"\nhe honked. \"Evacuate, hell! I can field eighty-five combat-ready ships!\"\n \n  \"And we can englobe every one of them with a thousand Peace Enforcers\nwith a hundred megatons/second firepower each.\"\n \n  \"Retief.\" Magnan tugged at his sleeve. \"Don't forget their superdrive.\"\n \n  \"That's all right. They don't have one.\"\n \n  \"But—\"\n \n  \"We'll take you on!\" Qorn French-horned. \"We're the Qorn! We glory in\nbattle! We live in fame or go down in—\"\n \n  \"Hogwash,\" the flame-and-blue Qorn cut in. \"If it wasn't for you, Qorn,\nwe could sit around and feast and brag and enjoy life without having to\nprove anything.\"\n \n  \"Qorn, you seem to be the fire-brand here,\" Retief said. \"I think the\nrest of the boys would listen to reason—\"\n \n  \"Over my dead body!\"\n \n  \"My idea exactly,\" Retief said. \"You claim you can lick any man in\nthe house. Unwind yourself from your ribbons and step out here on the\nfloor, and we'll see how good you are at backing up your conversation.\"\nMagnan hovered at Retief's side. \"Twelve feet tall,\" he moaned. \"And\ndid you notice the size of those hands?\"\n \n  Retief watched as Qorn's aides helped him out of his formal trappings.\n\"I wouldn't worry too much, Mr. Magnan. This is a light-Gee world. I\ndoubt if old Qorn would weigh up at more than two-fifty standard pounds\nhere.\"\n \n  \"But that phenomenal reach—\"\n \n  \"I'll peck away at him at knee level. When he bends over to swat me,\nI'll get a crack at him.\"\n \n  Across the cleared floor, Qorn shook off his helpers with a snort.\n \n  \"Enough! Let me at the upstart!\"\n \n  Retief moved out to meet him, watching the upraised backward-jointed\narms. Qorn stalked forward, long lean legs bent, long horny feet\nclacking against the polished floor. The other aliens—both servitors\nand bejeweled Qornt—formed a wide circle, all eyes unwaveringly on the\ncombatants.\n \n  Qorn struck suddenly, a long arm flashing down in a vicious cut at\nRetief, who leaned aside, caught one lean shank below the knee. Qorn\nbent to haul Retief from his leg—and staggered back as a haymaker took\nhim just below the beak. A screech went up from the crowd as Retief\nleaped clear.\n \n  Qorn hissed and charged. Retief whirled aside, then struck the alien's\noff-leg in a flying tackle. Qorn leaned, arms windmilling, crashed to\nthe floor. Retief whirled, dived for the left arm, whipped it behind\nthe narrow back, seized Qorn's neck in a stranglehold and threw his\nweight backward. Qorn fell on his back, his legs squatted out at an\nawkward angle. He squawked and beat his free arm on the floor, reaching\nin vain for Retief.\n \n  Zubb stepped forward, pistols ready. Magnan stepped before him.\n \n  \"Need I remind you, sir,\" he said icily, \"that this is an official\ndiplomatic function? I can brook no interference from disinterested\nparties.\"\n \n  Zubb hesitated. Magnan held out a hand. \"I must ask you to hand me your\nweapons, Zubb.\"\n \n  \"Look here,\" Zubb began.\n \n  \"I\nmay\nlose my temper,\" Magnan hinted. Zubb lowered the guns, passed\nthem to Magnan. He thrust them into his belt with a sour smile, turned\nback to watch the encounter.\n \n  Retief had thrown a turn of violet silk around Qorn's left wrist, bound\nit to the alien's neck. Another wisp of stuff floated from Qorn's\nshoulder. Retief, still holding Qorn in an awkward sprawl, wrapped\nit around one outflung leg, trussed ankle and thigh together. Qorn\nflopped, hooting. At each movement, the constricting loop around his\nneck, jerked his head back, the green crest tossing wildly.\n \n  \"If I were you, I'd relax,\" Retief said, rising and releasing his grip.\nQorn got a leg under him; Retief kicked it. Qorn's chin hit the floor\nwith a hollow clack. He wilted, an ungainly tangle of over-long limbs\nand gay silks.\n \n  Retief turned to the watching crowd. \"Next?\" he called.\n \n  The blue and flame Qornt stepped forward. \"Maybe this would be a good\ntime to elect a new leader,\" he said. \"Now, my qualifications—\"\n \n  \"Sit down,\" Retief said loudly. He stepped to the head of the table,\nseated himself in Qorn's vacated chair. \"A couple of you finish\ntrussing Qorn up for me.\"\n \n  \"But we must select a leader!\"\n \n  \"That won't be necessary, boys. I'm your new leader.\"\n\"As I see it,\" Retief said, dribbling cigar ashes into an empty wine\nglass, \"you Qornt like to be warriors, but you don't particularly like\nto fight.\"\n \n  \"We don't mind a little fighting—within reason. And, of course, as\nQornt, we're expected to die in battle. But what I say is, why rush\nthings?\"\n \n  \"I have a suggestion,\" Magnan said. \"Why not turn the reins of\ngovernment over to the Verpp? They seem a level-headed group.\"\n \n  \"What good would that do? Qornt are Qornt. It seems there's always one\namong us who's a slave to instinct—and, naturally, we have to follow\nhim.\"\n \n  \"Why?\"\n \n  \"Because that's the way it's done.\"\n \n  \"Why not do it another way?\" Magnan offered. \"Now, I'd like to suggest\ncommunity singing—\"\n \n  \"If we gave up fighting, we might live too long. Then what would\nhappen?\"\n \n  \"Live too long?\" Magnan looked puzzled.\n \n  \"When estivating time comes there'd be no burrows for us. Anyway, with\nthe new Qornt stepping on our heels—\"\n \n  \"I've lost the thread,\" Magnan said. \"Who are the new Qornt?\"\n \n  \"After estivating, the Verpp moult, and then they're Qornt, of course.\nThe Gwil become Boog, the Boog become Rheuk, the Rheuk metamorphosize\ninto Verpp—\"\n \n  \"You mean Slun and Zubb—the mild-natured naturalists—will become\nwarmongers like Qorn?\"\n \n  \"Very likely. 'The milder the Verpp, the wilder the Qorn,' as the old\nsaying goes.\"\n \n  \"What do Qornt turn into?\" Retief asked.\n \n  \"Hmmmm. That's a good question. So far, none have survived Qornthood.\"\n \n  \"Have you thought of forsaking your warlike ways?\" Magnan asked. \"What\nabout taking up sheepherding and regular church attendance?\"\n \n  \"Don't mistake me. We Qornt like a military life. It's great sport to\nsit around roaring fires and drink and tell lies and then go dashing\noff to enjoy a brisk affray and some leisurely looting afterward. But\nwe prefer a nice numerical advantage. Not this business of tackling you\nTerrestrials over on Guzzum—that was a mad notion. We had no idea what\nyour strength was.\"\n \n  \"But now that's all off, of course,\" Magnan chirped. \"Now that we've\nhad diplomatic relations and all—\"\n \n  \"Oh, by no means. The fleet lifts in thirty days. After all, we're\nQornt; we have to satisfy our drive to action.\"\n \n  \"But Mr. Retief is your leader now. He won't let you!\"\n \n  \"Only a dead Qornt stays home when Attack day comes. And even if\nhe orders us all to cut our own throats, there are still the other\nCenters—all with their own leaders. No, gentlemen, the Invasion is\ndefinitely on.\"\n \n  \"Why don't you go invade somebody else?\" Magnan suggested. \"I could\nname some very attractive prospects—outside my sector, of course.\"\n \n  \"Hold everything,\" Retief said. \"I think we've got the basis of a deal\nhere....\"\nV\n \n  At the head of a double column of gaudily caparisoned Qornt, Retief\nand Magnan strolled across the ramp toward the bright tower of the CDT\nSector HQ. Ahead, gates opened, and a black Corps limousine emerged,\nflying an Ambassadorial flag under a plain square of white.\n \n  \"Curious,\" Magnan commented. \"I wonder what the significance of the\nwhite ensign might be?\"\n \n  Retief raised a hand. The column halted with a clash of accoutrements\nand a rasp of Qornt boots. Retief looked back along the line. The high\nwhite sun flashed on bright silks, polished buckles, deep-dyed plumes,\nbutts of pistols, the soft gleam of leather.\n \n  \"A brave show indeed,\" Magnan commented approvingly. \"I confess the\nidea has merit.\"\n \n  The limousine pulled up with a squeal of brakes, stood on two fat-tired\nwheels, gyros humming softly. The hatch popped up. A portly diplomat\nstepped out.\n \n  \"Why, Ambassador Nitworth,\" Magnan glowed. \"This is very kind of you.\"\n \n  \"Keep cool, Magnan,\" Nitworth said in a strained voice. \"We'll attempt\nto get you out of this.\"\n \n  He stepped past Magnan's out-stretched hand and looked hesitantly at\nthe ramrod-straight line of Qornt, eighty-five strong—and beyond, at\nthe eighty-five tall Qornt dreadnaughts.\n \n  \"Good afternoon, sir ... ah, Your Excellency,\" Nitworth said, blinking\nup at the leading Qornt. \"You are Commander of the Strike Force, I\nassume?\"\n \n  \"Nope,\" the Qornt said shortly.\n \n  \"I ... ah ... wish to request seventy-two hours in which to evacuate\nHeadquarters,\" Nitworth plowed on.\n \n  \"Mr. Ambassador.\" Retief said. \"This—\"\n \n  \"Don't panic, Retief. I'll attempt to secure your release,\" Nitworth\nhissed over his shoulder. \"Now—\"\n \n  \"You will address our leader with more respect!\" the tall Qornt hooted,\neyeing Nitworth ominously from eleven feet up.\n \n  \"Oh, yes indeed, sir ... your Excellency ... Commander. Now, about the\ninvasion—\"\n \n  \"Mr. Secretary,\" Magnan tugged at Nitworth's sleeve.\n \n  \"In heaven's name, permit me to negotiate in peace!\" Nitworth snapped.\nHe rearranged his features. \"Now your Excellency, we've arranged to\nevacuate Smorbrod, of course, just as you requested—\"\n \n  \"Requested?\" the Qornt honked.\n \n  \"Ah ... demanded, that is. Quite rightly of course. Ordered.\nInstructed. And, of course, we'll be only too pleased to follow any\nother instructions you might have.\"\n \n  \"You don't quite get the big picture, Mr. Secretary,\" Retief said.\n\"This isn't—\"\n \n  \"Silence, confound you!\" Nitworth barked. The leading Qornt looked at\nRetief. He nodded. Two bony hands shot out, seized Nitworth and stuffed\na length of bright pink silk into his mouth, then spun him around and\nheld him facing Retief.\n \n  \"If you don't mind my taking this opportunity to brief you, Mr.\nAmbassador,\" Retief said blandly. \"I think I should mention that this\nisn't an invasion fleet. These are the new recruits for the Peace\nEnforcement Corps.\"\n \n  Magnan stepped forward, glanced at the gag in Ambassador Nitworth's\nmouth, hesitated, then cleared his throat. \"We felt,\" he said, \"that\nthe establishment of a Foreign Brigade within the P. E. Corps structure\nwould provide the element of novelty the Department has requested\nin our recruiting, and at the same time would remove the stigma of\nTerrestrial chauvinism from future punitive operations.\"\n \n  Nitworth stared, eyes bulging. He grunted, reaching for the gag, caught\nthe Qornt's eye on him, dropped his hands to his sides.\n \n  \"I suggest we get the troops in out of the hot sun,\" Retief said.\nMagnan edged close. \"What about the gag?\" he whispered.\n \n  \"Let's leave it where it is for a while,\" Retief murmured. \"It may save\nus a few concessions.\"\nAn hour later, Nitworth, breathing freely again, glowered across his\ndesk at Retief and Magnan.\n \n  \"This entire affair,\" he rumbled, \"has made me appear to be a fool!\"\n \n  \"But we who are privileged to serve on your staff already know just how\nclever you are,\" Magnan burbled.\n \n  Nitworth purpled. \"You're skirting insolence, Magnan,\" he roared. \"Why\nwas I not informed of the arrangements? What was I to assume at the\nsight of eighty-five war vessels over my headquarters, unannounced?\"\n \n  \"We tried to get through, but our wavelengths—\"\n \n  \"Bah! Sterner souls than I would have quailed at the spectacle!\"\n \n  \"Oh, you were perfectly justified in panicking—\"\n \n  \"I did\nnot\npanic!\" Nitworth bellowed. \"I merely adjusted to the\napparent circumstances. Now, I'm of two minds as to the advisability of\nthis foreign legion idea of yours. Still, it may have merit. I believe\nthe wisest course would be to dispatch them on a long training cruise\nin an uninhabited sector of space—\"\n \n  The office windows rattled. \"What the devil!\" Nitworth turned, stared\nout at the ramp where a Qornt ship rose slowly on a column of pale blue\nlight. The vibration increased as a second ship lifted, then a third.\n \n  Nitworth whirled on Magnan. \"What's this! Who ordered these recruits to\nembark without my permission?\"\n \n  \"I took the liberty of giving them an errand to run, Mr. Secretary,\"\nRetief said. \"There was that little matter of the Groaci infiltrating\nthe Sirenian System. I sent the boys off to handle it.\"\n \n  \"Call them back at once!\"\n \n  \"I'm afraid that won't be possible. They're under orders to maintain\ntotal communications silence until completion of the mission.\"\n \n  Nitworth drummed his fingers on the desk top. Slowly, a thoughtful\nexpression dawned. He nodded.\n \n  \"This may work out,\" he said. \"I\nshould\ncall them back, but since\nthe fleet is out of contact, I'm unable to do so, correct? Thus I can\nhardly be held responsible for any over-enthusiasm in chastising the\nGroaci.\"\n \n  He closed one eye in a broad wink at Magnan. \"Very well, gentlemen,\nI'll overlook the irregularity this time. Magnan, see to it the\nSmorbrodian public are notified they can remain where they are. And\nby the way, did you by any chance discover the technique of the\nindetectable drive the Qornt use?\"\n \n  \"No, sir. That is, yes, sir.\"\n \n  \"Well? Well?\"\n \n  \"There isn't any. The Qornt were there all the while. Underground.\"\n \n  \"Underground? Doing what?\"\n \n  \"Hibernating—for two hundred years at a stretch.\"\nOutside in the corridor, Magnan came up to Retief, who stood talking to\na tall man in a pilot's coverall.\n \n  \"I'll be tied up, sending through full details on my—our—your\nrecruiting theme, Retief,\" Magnan said. \"Suppose you run into the city\nto assist the new Verpp Consul in settling in.\"\n \n  \"I'll do that, Mr. Magnan. Anything else?\"\n \n  Magnan raised his eyebrows. \"You're remarkably compliant today, Retief.\nI'll arrange transportation.\"\n \n  \"Don't bother, Mr. Magnan. Cy here will run me over. He was the pilot\nwho ferried us over to Roolit I, you recall.\"\n \n  \"I'll be with you as soon as I pack a few phone numbers, Retief,\" the\npilot said. He moved off. Magnan followed him with a disapproving eye.\n\"An uncouth sort, I fancied. I trust you're not consorting with his\nkind socially.\"\n \n  \"I wouldn't say that, exactly,\" Retief said. \"We just want to go over a\nfew figures together.\"\n", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "3", "uid": "c8c9a7b4890d4a2fb3513818f65e8e6a", "response_text": "Ambassador Nitworth, the local head of the government for the Terrestrials, has received an ultimatum from a species called the Qornt. The Qornt want to take over the planet that the Terrestrials currently occupy. This is surprising because the whereabouts of the Qornt have been unknown for the past two centuries. The Ambassador orders Second Secretary Magnan to travel to Roolit I, the planet where the Qornt are now, to investigate the situation in person. Retief is sent to go with Magnan, with orders from the Ambassador to avoid Magnan from doing anything impulsive. When they arrive, Retief wants to investigate the situation on the surface, whereas Magnan would have been happy to take one look and return to his office. As Retief is insisting on taking a look, the two men are spotted by two eight-foot-tall creatures and a skirmish starts. After Retief pulls Magnan from the fight, and some bickering takes place, the men learn that these two creatures are Verpp, not Qornt. They ask if they know about the Ultimatum sent to the Ambassador—the men call the outer planet Smorbrod, but those on Roolit I call it Guzzum. Zubb and Slun (the Verpp) say that they aren’t caught up on political matters, so they don’t have anything to say about the upcoming invasion, but they do give the men information about where they are. Tarroon is the town they are closest to, where there are 15-20 Qornt, and Zubb and Slun say that the Qornt would mostly ignore Terrestrials, which makes Retief think they should walk right in. Magnan is afraid of a trap, but they head into the underground Qornt village. Once they make it to Qornt Hall, the group walks through a tunnel into a huge room with high ceilings, where the walls are plastered with weapons and other spoils of battle. It was a trap: the Verpp walk the men into the dining hall where the Qornt are having a feast, hoping that the Qornt would be mad at the men for interfering with the Verpp. It turns out the Qornt are even larger than the Verpp (twelve feet tall), and Qorn (the lead Qornt) is insistent that there will be no peace, because he is hungry for battle, so he ties up the men. Retief threatens them saying the Terrestrials intended to use Roolit I to test a bomb, and breaks out of his chains in the chaos—the differences in gravity between the planets means that the men are very strong, even if they are much smaller than the Verpp and Qornt. Retief ties up Qorn and declares himself the new leader. The Qornt explain that Verpp molt into Qornt after a few other stages of metamorphosis, and that the Qornt are very driven by a need for battle. Upon return to the outer planet, we learn that Retief has supposedly recruited the Qornt for the Peace Enforcement Corps, and sends them out to battle, circumventing Nitworth’s authority. \n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "4324af88ddbe406e8eda8b359e05aada", "response_text": "\tAmbassador Nitworth of the Terrestrials receives an undetectable message from the Qornt. This communication states that they will soon invade the CDT and pillage the surrounding area in 30 days time. The Qornt are known for their warlike tendencies and battle-hardy population, but they disappeared without a trace around 200 years ago. Despite their sudden reappearance on Terrestrial territory, the Terrestrials caught no sight of them on their Navigational Monitor Service. \n\tThe Ambassador and his military decide to evacuate their land, an incredible feat thanks to their 15 million Terrestrials. They give themselves one day to plan their move, before announcing it to the general population. \n\tMagnan, one of the Ambassador's men, is ordered to explore Roolit and find the Qorn. Magnan, though hesitant, is forced to accept and take Retief with him. As they explore, they come across two Verpp, Zubb and Slun. After a quick battle, Magnan and Retief win and speak to the Verpp as their captives. Their race is a peaceful one, focused on exploring nature and other species. \n\tZubb and Slun escort them to the Qornt den, where they are feasting. Slun leaves them outside of Qornt Hall, located in Tarroon.  Zubb guides them into the grand chamber, where the Qornt are in the midst of their weeks-long feast. The bejeweled hall features Qornt of different sizes and statuses. Qorn, the chief, is seated above them all in a headdress and plumage. Zubb explains that each Qornt has their own fully-automated dreadnought, AKA warship. \n\tAfter hearing about their weaponry and seeing the Qornt in all their beastly glory, Magnan decides to retreat. Zubb, however, betrays them and pulls out two guns. He announces their arrival after forcing the Terrestrials in. Qorn belches in response. The Qornt chain the two Terrestrials. \n\tThe chief boasts about what the Qornt will do to the Terrestrials and squanders Magnan’s hopes for surrender or peace. However, the other Qornt are not in agreement. They seem fairly nonchalant about the matter. They understand that this is their duty as Qornt, but they also would rather feast and boast than fight. \n\tRetief claims that the Terrestrials will use Tarroon as a target for their new hell bomb. He delivers his own ultimatum to the Qornt, breaking the chains around his wrists. Taroon’s gravity and atmosphere lighten the weight, hence Retief’s ability to break the chains. Retief challenges Qorn to a battle, despite Qorn’s greater size and stature. \n\tRetief wins, ties Qorn up, and names himself their new leader. The Qornt still plan on invading the Terrestrials, however, and Retief must find a solution. It’s revealed that the Verpp transforms into the Qornt like a caterpillar becomes a butterfly. They reach a solution, however. The Qornt become the new task force for the Peace Enforcement Corps. The Verpp establish their own Consul in the city. Ambassador Nitworth is pleased with this turn of events, and the Qornt are sent on a mission right away."}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "436f20272bd0499ab8f90ce2c2904a8c", "response_text": "A diplomatic corps of humans (Terrestrials) receives an ultimatum from the Qornt warlike alien race telling them to evacuate a planet or be destroyed. The alien race appeared suddenly and undetected by the humans. Two men, Mangan and Retief, are dispatched to the alien planet to investigate while an evacuation plan can be developed.\n\nMangan and Retief come upon two aliens who they mistake for Qornt but are actually Verpp. They are able to capture them and they lead the men to the Qornt community. Once their their captives turn on them and capture the men, binding them in chains.\n\nThe Qornt leader is uninterested in diplomatic discussions and is intent on invading the human planet. At this point Retief breaks his bonds which are only weak aluminum and defeats the Qornt leader in physical combat. Retief convinces the remaining Qornt to abandon the invasion plan and elect himself as their leader.\n\nWhen the human ambassador returns to discuss the evacuation, Mangan and Retief inform him that the Qornt have remarkably been folded into the Terrestrial Peace Corps and have been sent out on mission. Retief and Mangan will now be in charge of recruitment of Alien races into the human community."}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "d5777b4560e34e20bb0a4e1d2d3cc5ad", "response_text": "Ambassador Nitworth appears in front of his staff to announce that the Qornt, a race that disappeared 200 years ago, has suddenly reappeared and is making demands. One of the most alarming facts about this assault is that the Qornt were able to appear on the planet without detection by any of the equipment the earth men use. \n\nWhen Magnan tries to sneak out of the meeting without an assignment, Nitworth sends him and Ratief to check out the Qornt in person. Within moments of their arrival at the site, a Qornt steps out of the bushes. Magnan immediately tries to escape, but another alien appears and the two Qornts stop him from running away. He is able to defend himself and knocks them both to the ground. \n\nThe aliens agree to take Magnan and Ratief to Qornt Hall to speak with Qorn, the leader. Once they reach the hall, the Qornt escorts pull out a couple of weapons and point them at Magnan. They want to tell Qorn that the two men have assaulted them and tried to kidnap them. Inside the meeting place, the wild-looking leader tells Ratief and Magnan that he has zero intention of negotiating a peace deal between the Qornts and the humans. Instead, he wants adventure and action. \n\nIt becomes clear that Qorn is forcing his men to go to war although some of them are not interested in the battle. Qorn argues that he is the ultimate leader, and it makes no difference if his subordinates agree with his decisions or not. \n\nRatief and Magnan were sent to the Qornts to negotiate the earth men's surrender, but Ratief completely changes the plan. He tells the leader that they want to deliver an ultimatum of their own. They will bomb the planet in a few days’ time, regardless of whether the Qornts have left it or not. \n\nQorn insists that his troops are ready for war, but one of his subordinates cuts in to tell him that many of the other Qornts would prefer to feast and enjoy themselves without going to battle for no good reason. Ratief challenges Qorn to a fight, and he eventually gets the alien in a stranglehold. After Ratief wins, he claims himself leader of the Qornts. \n\nSeveral of the Qornts declare that they must go to war regardless of who their leader is. They were made for fighting even though they didn’t like their past leader’s decision to attack the earthmen. Magnan suggests that the group goes elsewhere to invade, and Ratief agrees.  \n\nAmbassador Nitworth shows up to save Ratief and Magnan, completely unaware that they have taken over the Qornts. The men explain to their boss that they have established the Foreign Brigade, and the Qornts will now work for them. They have been sent off on a far away mission. Ratief and Magnan also tell Nitworth that the Qornts never left the planet. They were hibernating underground for 200 years.\n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the relationship between Magnan and Retief, and how does it shift throughout the story?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "3", "uid": "c8c9a7b4890d4a2fb3513818f65e8e6a", "response_text": "Magnan and Retief are the men selected to go to the planet where the Qornt are based in order to investigate. Although Magnan was the first person assigned to the job, he is less comfortable out in the field compared to Retief, who ends up making most of the decisions. There is a tension here as they continue their adventure, with Magnan being scared and Retief encouraging him forward, and Retief saving Magnan when he is pinned by the Verpp. Magnan is the one who is explicitly a diplomat, but Retief takes over most conversations—not only does he push the mission forward and insist on following the Verpp to the Qornt, but he eventually declares himself leader of the Qornt. Even when Ambassador Nitworth demands information from Magnan near the end, it is Retief who responds—he wants the Ambassador to know that he is the one calling the shots, even if it has been behind the scenes. It’s clear that Magnan has either not understood this, as if he were being tricked, or he is just not good at giving credit where credit is due, because he refers to the plan as his own recruiting scheme, correcting himself to say it was a group effort, even though it was all Retief’s idea. At the very end of the story, Retief complies to all of Magnan’s requests in an uncharacteristic way—the interpretation is left open, but there is a possibility Retief is hiding something and intends to return as a military leader with the Qornt and perhaps attack the Terrestrials. \n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "4324af88ddbe406e8eda8b359e05aada", "response_text": "\tMagnan is a hesitant man, very aware of himself. His anxiety about the situation at hand is in direct relation to his self-preservation instincts. Retief, on the other hand, is far bolder, willing to sacrifice himself and his safety to explore, solve the issue, or reach a solution. At first, Retief makes fun of Magnan and his hesitancy. Often, Retief has to goad or tease Magnan just to make him come along with him. \n\tAfter Magnan takes down both the Verpps, Retief’s respect for him grows, if only incrementally. Their sarcastic and snarky manner only grows as the story progresses. As they continue on their mission, Magnan continues to question Retief’s ever-present bravery, but this only propels him forward. \n\tOnce Retief challenges Qorn to a duel, Magnan instantly tries to hold him back and questions his train of thought. After hearing Retief’s plan, Magnan backs off and watches his comrade take down the chief. \n\tNow that Retief is their new leader, he and Magnan brainstorm with the Qornt about how to solve the issue at hand. Magnan always leads with the idea of peace, while Retief looks for other solutions. \n\tAlthough they experience some difficulties in the beginning, Magnan and Retief develop a friendly relationship where they are able to question each other, keep the other one safe, and bounce ideas off of each other.\n"}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "436f20272bd0499ab8f90ce2c2904a8c", "response_text": "Mangan and Retief begin their adventure on the planet at odds with each other. Mangan is in favor of leaving the planet while Retief proposing investigating further the more they learn. Mangan is diplomatic and risk-averse in his interaction while Retief prefers action.\n\nRetief is the cleverer of the two men and understands that although the Verpp and Qornt look imposing, the lower gravity on the planet renders them ineffectual physically. He uses this knowledge to his advantage to defeat Qorn, the leader of the Qornt and bluff the remainder of the population into establishing himself as their leader. Mangan, originally the leader of the expedition falls into line behind Retief's lead. By the end of the story Retief has accomplished a striking victory and now is beginning to view Mangan as another clueless dignitary like Nitworth and begins to discuss his future plans with the lower-class pilot, Cy."}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "d5777b4560e34e20bb0a4e1d2d3cc5ad", "response_text": "Magnan and Ratief are sent to investigate the Qornt together. Before they leave, Ambassador Nitworth tells Ratief to make sure that Magnan does not do anything foolish or compulsive. \n\nHowever, as soon as they land on the planet, Magnan accuses Ratief of going against the boss’s policies. Ratief tells Magnan to give him an hour to investigate the Qornts and to leave without him if he’s not back in time. Ratief is clearly the braver of the two men. Yet, Magnan is able to show off his own skills and courage when the Qornts show up unexpectedly and jump out from behind a bush. Magnan knocks the aliens down without much thought. \n\nMagnan tries to convince Ratief to go back to their ship, but Ratief refuses and instead says that it’s their job to go get the Qornts’ attention. Although the two Qornts agree to bring them to their leader, Magnan is concerned that the Qornts are secretly plotting an attack against the diplomats. His doubts about their kindness have merit. The two Qornt escorts end up pulling out weapons and threatening the men. This time, it’s Ratief who uses caution and tells Magnan not to scare the Qornts because they may get nervous and shoot. \n\nRatief takes charge of the mission and leaves Magnan’s opinions about the situation out when he tells the Qorn that the two earthmen have come with an ultimatum. He completely changes his boss’s message and tries to scare the Qornts into leaving. When the leader refuses, Ratief challenges him to a duel and comes out victorious. Ratief then nominates himself to be the new leader of the group.\n\nMagnan is stunned by Ratief’s cavalier attitude, but he is supportive of his colleague. He trusts Ratief to make good decisions, even when his actions seem outlandish. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Magnan and how does his attitude shift throughout the story?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "3", "uid": "c8c9a7b4890d4a2fb3513818f65e8e6a", "response_text": "Second Secretary Magnan was selected by Ambassador Nitworth to travel to Roolit I to investigate the Qornt. Magnan does not have much field experience and is surprised by this assignment, and had been trying to get out of doing anything related to the Qornt issue when it was handed to him. He resigns himself to the task and Retief is assigned to go along with him. When they get to the planet, Magnan is clearly anxious—he remarks on the quality of the view and states his intent to head back to finish the mission, but Retief doesn’t let him give up so early. When the men are spotted by some creatures, and he tries to run for help, he is instead jumped by the creatures and Retief has to tear him free. This gives Magnan some confidence, and has a much more arrogant attitude towards the Verpp. He flaunts his title as diplomat and tries to assert as much dominance as he can. Once he learns that these are Verpp and not Qornt, he is preoccupied by the confusing details of the story: how many Qornt there are, and things like that. Once the group starts towards the Qornt’s village, however, he becomes nervous again, no longer with the upper hand. He is not sure if he is walking into a trap, and becomes more and more nervous until the trap is revealed. Once at gunpoint standing in front of the Qornt, however, he has enough confidence to pry at the division between the Qornt who want war and those who aren’t sold on the idea yet. Once Retief threatens the Qornt and a fight commences, Magnan still tries to talk his way out of Zubb shooting the men, gains confidence again, and insists on taking the guns. Once Qorn has been tied up, Magnan suggests putting the Verpp in charge, and asks the Qornt if there are alternatives to militaristic life that they would consider. Eventually they all make it back to where the story started, and he seems more passive again, until the Ambassador is on board with Retief’s plan, and Magnan starts ordering Retief around again, though Retief’s behavior has shifted in response. "}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "4324af88ddbe406e8eda8b359e05aada", "response_text": "\tMagnan is one of Ambassador Nitworth’s men, assumedly part of his military brigade. When Nitworth commands him to take Retief on a journey to find the Qornt, he balks and asks not to. He is essentially the literary version of a scaredy-cat. \n\tThroughout their journey, Retief has to come up with different encouragements or tricks to keep Magnan going, usually involving putting him in harm’s way. At first, Magnan’s self-preservation is what drives him forward. But as the story progresses, he soon grows to care for Retief in a purely platonic way. This development means he also tries to protect Retief in his own way, usually by questioning his choices and insisting safety comes first. \n\tAt the end, Magnan becomes a much braver man and negotiates with the Qornt himself. He constantly pushes for the idea of peace, not only for his own self-preservation but also for those around him. His basic instincts remain, but they expand to include the rest of the Terrestrials as well as the other races.\n"}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "436f20272bd0499ab8f90ce2c2904a8c", "response_text": "Mangan is the Second Secretary in the Terrestrial Diplomatic Corp. He answers to Ambassador Nitworth. He is chosen to perform reconnaissance on the alien planet along with Retief. Initially, Mangan is a by-the-books officer with something of a cowardly streak not wanting to engage in any risky action. Throughout his time on the planet, Mangan is continually proposing that they retreat before being pushed on by Retief.\n\nEventually when Mangan is nearly captured by the Verpp, he physically overpowers them. Eventually, Mangan is influenced by Retief's bravado and guile and aids him in deceiving the Qorn into joining the Terrestrial military complex.\n\nMangan also has a prejudiced view of social class (not unlike the Verpp) disapproving of Retief socializing with a mere pilot. This limitation prevents Mangan from seeing the bigger picture of the situation unlike Retief."}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "d5777b4560e34e20bb0a4e1d2d3cc5ad", "response_text": "At the beginning of the story, Magnan, the diplomat, takes on very little responsibility. He listens to Nitworth’s declarations about an unknown enemy invading their territory, and he is unphased. He tells Nitworth that it seems like everything is under control, so he is just going to head out. Nitworth sends him to check on the Qornt in person, and he is deeply unhappy with the assignment.\n\nUpon arrival, Magnan immediately tries to get out of doing any work by telling Ratief that they can’t locate the group. He doesn’t see it as his responsibility to save the earth men from the invaders. \n\nHowever, when the Qornts appear in front of him, he wastes no time in defending himself and his colleague and knocks them to the ground. After spending more time with the Qornts and getting to know them and their society better, Magnan becomes more invested in what happens to them and how the earth men handle their invasion. He fully supports Ratief when he asks Qorn to prove that he is in fact the strongest and again when Ratief claims the leadership role for himself. Magnan knows that everything Ratief is doing is against Nitworth’s orders, but he trusts Ratief to make good decisions, and the whole ordeal is very entertaining. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Why are the men so convinced that the Qornt have an extreme tactical advantage? What do we know about the military mindset and tools of the group?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "3", "uid": "c8c9a7b4890d4a2fb3513818f65e8e6a", "response_text": "Because they Qornt have been underground for two centuries while they molted from the Verpp stage of their life cycle, they have gone undetected by the Terrestrials in this time. This led the Terrestrials to believe that the Qornt possessed superior technology of some kind, as they seemed to have reappeared out of nowhere. However, this is not the case, and it was merely that the group remained dormant for a long time. There are rumors of stealth technology and superior ships, including a superdrive, but not much firsthand information until Magnan and Retief make it to the surface of Roolit I, the planet that the Qornt are currently occupying. It is true that the Verpp and Qornt are physically larger than the Terrestrials, but the systems of gravity on the different planets means that the smaller Terrestrials are actually stronger and have a kind of advantage on Roolit I. The Verpp tell Magnan that the Qornt have huge, powerful warships that have a variety of weapon types. Not only this, but each Qornt has his own ship, which means that there is a large fleet of these. It comes to Magnan as a surprise, then, that the Qornt are not worried about diplomatic negotiation, but instead just seem to have an impulse that drives them to be in battle. "}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "4324af88ddbe406e8eda8b359e05aada", "response_text": "\tWhen the Qornt reappears after a 200-year hiatus, Ambassador Nitworth and his men are terrified because their radars are unable to find them. Because of this, and the Qornt’s leader’s claim about their unrivaled weaponry, the men are sure of their demise. They gather their forces to come up with five different relocation plans and decide to execute the best one in 24 short hours. \n\tWith a population of 15 million Terrestrials, relocation is a mighty feat. By choosing relocation, it’s clear that Ambassador Nitworth and his men have no faith in their fleet’s ability against the Qornt’s. \n\tLater on, when Retief and Magnan are with the Zubb and the Qornt, we discover that each Qornt has his own dreadnought. Zubb talks them up as well, explaining in detail about these fully automated warships. He also mentions their super drive and their unstoppable army. However, Retief is smart enough to figure out that since they’ve been underground for 200 years, they wouldn’t have access to all of this new technology. The Qornt are still a warring species, though, advanced technology or not. \n\tSince the leader and his men were not in line, their power fell dramatically. Retief was able to become their new leader with relative ease. He also appeases their warlike ways by assigning them to the Peace Enforcement Corps.\n"}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "436f20272bd0499ab8f90ce2c2904a8c", "response_text": "The men are convinced of Qornt superiority due to the fact that they appeared on the planet undetected by their instruments. Later, Mangan and Retief learn that the Qornt command a massive armada of warships that would be a imposing threat to the Terrestrials.\n\nThe military mindset of the Terrestrials is similarly aggressive as the Qornt. They are intent on countering the perceived threat but seeing that they are facing a technologically superior foe, they seek to surrender and save their population."}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "d5777b4560e34e20bb0a4e1d2d3cc5ad", "response_text": "The humans’ tools are unable to detect the Qornts’ invasion at the beginning of the story, so they assume that they have far more advanced equipment. It is obvious that they have never before seen an arrival go completely undetected by their tools. At the end of the story, however, the truth that the Qornts were hibernating underground for 200 years comes to light. Therefore, the earth men did not “miss” their invasion, they just didn’t know that there were dozens of them buried underground. \n\nThe Qornts are self-proclaimed lovers of war. The original Qorn says that he has no desire for peace between his people and the earthlings because he much prefers adventure and action, regardless of the potential loss of life. Although some of his subordinates do not agree with his decision to battle the earth men, they do acknowledge that war is an essential part of the Qornts’ society. \n\nThe Qornts are not always Qornts. Before they are Qornts, they are Verpp, and before that they are Rheuk, and before that, Boog, etc. No one survives the Qornt stage because the Qornt love military life. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Who are the Qornt and how do they relate to the other groups in the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "3", "uid": "c8c9a7b4890d4a2fb3513818f65e8e6a", "response_text": "The Qornt is a race of aliens known for their militaristic tendencies that seemed to disappear two centuries ago. They are of particular issue because they have reappeared and written to the Terrestrials saying they would take over the planet that the Terrestrials are on. We eventually learn that the Qornt are but one stage in a longer life cycle, in which Gwil become Boog, who become Rheuk, who become Verpp, who eventually become Qornt after the two hundred year estivation period. It is only in this stage that they become antagonistic and warlike, but they do not know what happens after this stage because Qornt are expected to die in battle, and none have survived long enough to know what happens. The Qornt themselves are twelve feet tall and troll-like, with very bushy fur, huge eyes, and beaks. They are very comfortable with their militaristic traditions—when we meet them, they are in the midst of a large feast that they partake in before going to war. They boast the spoils of battle on display in their great hall, and wear intricate headdresses to show their power. After a skirmish with the men on Roolit I, in which Qorn (the lead Qornt) is replaced in power by Retief, they eventually make it to the outer planets where they have presumably been recruited into the Peace Enforcement Corps.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "4324af88ddbe406e8eda8b359e05aada", "response_text": "\tThe Qornt are a large, bird-like, warring species with scary beaks and large eyes. They are similar in looks to the Verpp but much larger and scarier. \n\tAs it turns out, the Qornt and several other species undergo a sort of metamorphosis, similar to a caterpillar becoming a butterfly in our reality. Just as the caterpillar burrows itself in a cocoon, the Verpp burrow, molt, and then re-emerge as Qornt. However, the Verpp aren’t born. They are initially of the Gwil species. The Gwil transform into the Boog, which then transform into the Rheuk, and then they become the Verpp. \n\tSadly, it’s unknown what the Qornt might become during their transformation. No Qornt has ever survived long enough to experience the next metamorphosis if there is one. They always die in battle, supposedly to make room for the Verpp to burrow again. \n"}, {"worker_id": "5", "uid": "436f20272bd0499ab8f90ce2c2904a8c", "response_text": "The Qornt are an antagonistic alien race that have been rediscovered on the planet of Roolit I. They are a warlike race and have delivered an ultimatum to the Terrestrial inhabitants of Smorbrod that if they do not evacuate, they will invade. They are physically imposing, standing over 10 feet tall with a birdlike appearance.\n\nIn reality the Qornt are related to all of the other alien races on Roolit I. Each seperate race is a developmental stage of a single species. The Gwil become Boog, the Boog become Rheuk, which become Verpp which eventually become Qornt. The Qornt are predisposed to warlike tendencies so that they tend to die off and complete their life cycle in order to make room for new Qornt that develop from the Verpp. If they did not do this overpopulation would become an issue when they need to hibernate underground for 200 years. "}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "d5777b4560e34e20bb0a4e1d2d3cc5ad", "response_text": "The Qornt originally lived in the Concordiate times, about 200 years ago. They vanished suddenly, and no historians know where it was that they went. However, Magnan and Ratief learn from the aliens that they were simply hibernating for two centuries. They never actually left the planet. \n\nThe Qornt are led by His Supreme Excellency The Qorn, Regent of the Qornt, Over-Lord of the Galactic Destiny. They are about eight feet tall, stand on two green legs, and move like birds. They have bushy green hair and white beaks. They love to attack other species and engage in dangerous action and war. \n\nQornt is the final stage in a long line of evolution of the being. The two beings that Magnan and Ratief meet are not actually Qornts, but Verpps. They are actually offended that the earth men mistake them for Qornts because they believe the similar but different creatures are argumentative and lowly. They are all “pud’s creatures,” but they view themselves distinctly based on their place in the evolution of the being. No one survives the Qornt stage because they are always  engaging in war. \n"}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "63473", "uid": "0a9bdf02a1a84fb2b7408aa57f1ef5fd", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "DUST UNTO DUST\n \n\n By LYMAN D. HINCKLEY\n \n \n It was alien but was it dead, this towering, sinister city of metal that glittered malignantly before the cautious advance of three awed space-scouters.\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Summer 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n \n Martin set the lifeboat down carefully, with all the attention one usually exercises in a situation where the totally unexpected has occurred, and he and his two companions sat and stared in awed silence at the city a quarter-mile away.\n \n He saw the dull, black walls of buildings shouldering grimly into the twilight sky, saw the sheared edge where the metal city ended and the barren earth began ... and he remembered observing, even before they landed, the too-strict geometry imposed on the entire construction.\n \n He frowned. The first impression was ... malignant.\n \n Wass, blond and slight, with enough nose for three or four men, unbuckled his safety belt and stood up. \"Shall we, gentlemen?\" and with a graceful movement of hand and arm he indicated the waiting city.\n \n Martin led Wass, and the gangling, scarecrow-like Rodney, through the stillness overlaying the barren ground. There was only the twilight sky, and harsh and black against it, the convoluted earth. And the city. Malignant. He wondered, again, what beings would choose to build a city—even a city like this one—in such surroundings.\n \n The men from the ship knew only the surface facts about this waiting geometric discovery. Theirs was the eleventh inter-planetary flight, and the previous ten, in the time allowed them for exploration while this planet was still close enough to their own to permit a safe return in their ships, had not spotted the city. But the eleventh expedition had, an hour ago, with just thirteen hours left during which a return flight could be safely started. So far as was known, this was the only city on the planet—the planet without any life at all, save tiny mosses, for a million years or more. And no matter which direction from the city a man moved, he would always be going north.\n \n \"Hey, Martin!\" Rodney called through his helmet radio. Martin paused.\n\"Wind,\" Rodney said, coming abreast of him. He glanced toward the black pile, as if sharing Martin's thoughts. \"That's all we need, isn't it?\"\n \n Martin looked at the semi-transparent figures of wind and dust cavorting in the distance, moving toward them. He grinned a little, adjusting his radio. \"Worried?\"\n \n Rodney's bony face was without expression. \"Gives me the creeps, kind of. I wonder what they were like?\"\n \n Wass murmured, \"Let us hope they aren't immortal.\"\n \n Three feet from the edge of the city Martin stopped and stubbed at the sand with the toe of his boot, clearing earth from part of a shining metal band.\n \n Wass watched him, and then shoved aside more sand, several feet away.\n\"It's here, too.\"\n \n Martin stood up. \"Let's try farther on. Rodney, radio the ship, tell them we're going in.\"\n \n Rodney nodded.\n \n After a time, Wass said, \"Here, too. How far do you think it goes?\"\n \n Martin shrugged. \"Clear around the city? I'd like to know what it is—was—for.\"\n \n \"Defense,\" Rodney, several yards behind, suggested.\n \n \"Could be,\" Martin said. \"Let's go in.\"\n \n The three crossed the metal band and walked abreast down a street, their broad soft soled boots making no sound on the dull metal. They passed doors and arches and windows and separate buildings. They moved cautiously across five intersections. And they stood in a square surrounded by the tallest buildings in the city.\n \n Rodney broke the silence, hesitantly. \"Not—not very big. Is it?\"\n \n Wass looked at him shrewdly. \"Neither were the—well, shall we call them, people? Have you noticed how low everything is?\"\n \n Rodney's laughter rose, too. Then, sobering—\"Maybe they crawled.\"\n \n A nebulous image, product of childhood's vivid imagination, moved slowly across Martin's mind. \"All right!\" he rapped out—and the image faded.\n \n \"Sorry,\" Rodney murmured, his throat working beneath his lantern jaw. Then—\"I wonder what it's like here in the winter when there's no light at all?\"\n \n \"I imagine they had illumination of some sort,\" Martin answered, dryly.\n\"If we don't hurry up and get through this place and back to the ship, we're very likely to find out.\"\n \n Rodney said quickly, \"I mean outside.\"\n \n \"Out there, too, Rodney, they must have had illumination.\" Martin looked back along the straight, metal street they'd walked on, and past that out over the bleak, furrowed slopes where the ship's lifeboat lay ... and he thought everything outside the city seemed, somehow, from here, a little dim, a little hazy.\n \n He straightened his shoulders. The city was alien, of course, and that explained most of it ... most of it. But he felt the black city was something familiar, yet twisted and distorted.\n \n \"Well,\" Wass said, his nose wrinkling a bit, \"now that we're here....\"\n \n \"Pictures,\" Martin decided. \"We have twelve hours. We'll start here. What's the matter, Wass?\"\n \n The blond man grinned ruefully. \"I left the camera in the lifeboat.\" There was a pause. Then Wass, defensively—\"It's almost as if the city didn't want to be photographed.\"\n \n Martin ignored the remark. \"Go get it. Rodney and I will be somewhere along this street.\"\n \n Wass turned away. Martin and Rodney started slowly down the wide metal street, at right angles to their path of entrance.\n \n Again Martin felt a tug of twisted, distorted familiarity. It was almost as if ... they were human up to a certain point, the point being, perhaps, some part of their minds.... Alien things, dark and subtle, things no man could ever comprehend.\n \n Parallel evolution on two inner planets of the same system? Somewhere, sometime, a common ancestor? Martin noted the shoulder-high doors, the heavier gravity, remembered the inhabitants of the city vanished before the thing that was to become man ever emerged from the slime, and he decided to grin at himself, at his own imagination.\n \n Rodney jerked his scarecrow length about quickly, and a chill sped up Martin's spine. \"What's the matter?\"\n \n The bony face was white, the gray eyes were wide. \"I saw—I thought I saw—something—moving—\"\n \n Anger rose in Martin. \"You didn't,\" he said flatly, gripping the other's shoulder cruelly. \"You couldn't have. Get hold of yourself, man!\"\n \n Rodney stared. \"The wind. Remember? There isn't any, here.\"\n \n \"... How could there be? The buildings protect us now. It was blowing from the other direction.\"\n \n Rodney wrenched free of Martin's grip. He gestured wildly. \"That—\"\n \n \"Martin!\" Wass' voice came through the receivers in both their radios.\n\"Martin, I can't get out!\"\n \n \n\n \n Rodney mumbled something, and Martin told him to shut up.\n \n Wass said, more quietly, \"Remember that metal band? It's all clear now, and glittering, as far as I can see. I can't get across it; it's like a glass wall.\"\n \n \"We're trapped, we're trapped, they are—\"\n \n \"Shut up, Rodney! Wass, I'm only two sections from the edge. I'll check here.\"\n \n Martin clapped a hand on Rodney's shoulder again, starting him moving, toward the city's edge, past the black, silent buildings.\n \n The glittering band was here, too, like a halo around a silhouette.\n \n \"No go,\" Martin said to Wass. He bit at his lower lip. \"I think it must be all around us.\" He was silent for a time, exploring the consequences of this. Then—\"We'll meet you in the middle of the city, where we separated.\"\n \n Walking with Rodney, Martin heard Wass' voice, flat and metallic through the radio receiver against his ear. \"What do you suppose caused this?\"\n \n He shook his head angrily, saying, \"Judging by reports of the rest of the planet, it must have been horribly radioactive at one time. All of it.\"\n \n \"Man-made radiation, you mean.\"\n \n Martin grinned faintly. Wass, too, had an active imagination. \"Well, alien-made, anyhow. Perhaps they had a war.\"\n \n Wass' voice sounded startled. \"Anti-radiation screen?\"\n \n Rodney interrupted, \"There hasn't been enough radiation around here for hundreds of thousands of years to activate such a screen.\"\n \n Wass said coldly, \"He's right, Martin.\"\n \n Martin crossed an intersection, Rodney slightly behind him. \"You're both wrong,\" he said. \"We landed here today.\"\n \n Rodney stopped in the middle of the metal street and stared down at Martin. \"The wind—?\"\n \n \"Why not?\"\n \n \"That would explain why it stopped so suddenly, then.\" Rodney stood straighter. When he walked again, his steps were firmer.\n \n They reached the center of the city, ahead of the small, slight Wass, and stood watching him labor along the metal toward them.\n \n Wass' face, Martin saw, was sober. \"I tried to call the ship. No luck.\"\n \n \"The shield?\"\n \n Wass nodded. \"What else?\"\n \n \"I don't know—\"\n \n \"If we went to the roof of the tallest building,\" Rodney offered, \"we might—\"\n \n Martin shook his head. \"No. To be effective, the shield would have to cover the city.\"\n \n Wass stared down at the metal street, as if he could look through it.\n\"I wonder where it gets its power?\"\n \n \"Down below, probably. If there is a down below.\" Martin hesitated. \"We may have to....\"\n \n \"What?\" Rodney prompted.\n \n Martin shrugged. \"Let's look.\"\n \n He led the way through a shoulder-high arch in one of the tall buildings surrounding the square. The corridor inside was dim and plain, and he switched on his flashlight, the other two immediately following his example. The walls and the rounded ceiling of the corridor were of the same dull metal as the buildings' facades, and the streets. There were a multitude of doors and arches set into either side of the corridor.\n \n It was rather like ... entering a gigantic metal beehive.\n \n Martin chose an arch, with beyond it a metal ramp, which tilted downward, gleaming in the pale circle of his torch.\n \n A call from Rodney halted him. \"Back here,\" the tall man repeated. \"It looks like a switchboard.\"\n \n The three advanced to the end of the central corridor, pausing before a great arch, outlined in the too-careful geometrical figures Martin had come to associate with the city builders. The three torches, shining through the arch, picked out a bank of buttons, handles ... and a thick rope of cables which ran upward to vanish unexpectedly in the metal roof.\n \n \"Is this it,\" Wass murmured, \"or an auxiliary?\"\n \n Martin shrugged. \"The whole city's no more than a machine, apparently.\"\n \n \"Another assumption,\" Wass said. \"We have done nothing but make assumptions ever since we got here.\"\n \n \"What would you suggest, instead?\" Martin asked calmly.\n \n Rodney furtively, extended one hand toward a switch.\n \n \"No!\" Martin said, sharply. That was one assumption they dared not make.\n \n Rodney turned. \"But—\"\n \n \"No. Wass, how much time have we?\"\n \n \"The ship leaves in eleven hours.\"\n \n \"Eleven hours,\" Rodney repeated. \"Eleven hours!\" He reached out for the switch again. Martin swore, stepped forward, pulled him back roughly.\n \n He directed his flashlight at Rodney's thin, pale face. \"What do you think you're doing?\"\n \n \"We have to find out what all this stuff's for!\"\n \n \"Going at it blindly, we'd probably execute ourselves.\"\n \n \"We've got to—\"\n \n \"No!\" Then, more quietly—\"We still have eleven hours to find a way out.\"\n \n \"Ten hours and forty-five minutes,\" Wass disagreed softly. \"Minus the time it takes us to get to the lifeboat, fly to the ship, land, stow it, get ourselves aboard, and get the big ship away from the planet. And Captain Morgan can't wait for us, Martin.\"\n \n \"You too, Wass?\"\n \n \"Up to the point of accuracy, yes.\"\n \n Martin said, \"Not necessarily. You go the way the wind does, always thinking of your own tender hide, of course.\"\n \n Rodney cursed. \"And every second we stand here doing nothing gives us that much less time to find a way out. Martin—\"\n \n \"Make one move toward that switchboard and I'll stop you where you stand!\"\n \n \n\n \n Wass moved silently through the darkness beyond the torches. \"We all have guns, Martin.\"\n \n \"I'm holding mine.\" Martin waited.\n \n After a moment, Wass switched his flashlight back on. He said quietly,\n\"He's right, Rodney. It would be sure death to monkey around in here.\"\n \n \"Well....\" Rodney turned quickly toward the black arch. \"Let's get out of here, then!\"\n \n Martin hung back waiting for the others to go ahead of him down the metal hall. At the other arch, where the ramp led downward, he called a halt. \"If the dome, or whatever it is, is a radiation screen there must be at least half-a-dozen emergency exits around the city.\"\n \n Rodney said, \"To search every building next to the dome clean around the city would take years.\"\n \n Martin nodded. \"But there must be central roads beneath this main level leading to them. Up here there are too many roads.\"\n \n Wass laughed rudely.\n \n \"Have you a better idea?\"\n \n Wass ignored that, as Martin hoped he would. He said slowly, \"That leads to another idea. If the band around the city is responsible for the dome, does it project down into the ground as well?\"\n \n \"You mean dig out?\" Martin asked.\n \n \"Sure. Why not?\"\n \n \"We're wearing heavy suits and bulky breathing units. We have no equipment.\"\n \n \"That shouldn't be hard to come by.\"\n \n Martin smiled, banishing Wass' idea.\n \n Rodney said, \"They may have had their digging equipment built right in to themselves.\"\n \n \"Anyway,\" Martin decided, \"we can take a look down below.\"\n \n \"In the pitch dark,\" Wass added.\n \n Martin adjusted his torch, began to lead the way down the metal ramp. The incline was gentle, apparently constructed for legs shorter, feet perhaps less broad than their own. The metal, without mark of any sort, gleamed under the combined light of the torches, unrolling out of the darkness before the men.\n \n At length the incline melted smoothly into the next level of the city.\n \n Martin shined his light upward, and the others followed his example. Metal as smooth and featureless as that on which they stood shone down on them.\n \n Wass turned his light parallel with the floor, and then moved slowly in a circle. \"No supports. No supports anywhere. What keeps all that up there?\"\n \n \"I don't know. I have no idea.\" Martin gestured toward the ramp with his light. \"Does all this, this whole place, look at all familiar to you?\"\n \n Rodney's gulp was clearly audible through the radio receivers. \"Here?\"\n \n \"No, no,\" Martin answered impatiently, \"not just here. I mean the whole city.\"\n \n \"Yes,\" Wass said dryly, \"it does. I'm sure this is where all my nightmares stay when they're not on shift.\"\n \n Martin turned on his heel and started down a metal avenue which, he thought, paralleled the street above. And Rodney and Wass followed him silently. They moved along the metal, past unfamiliar shapes made more so by gloom and moving shadows, past doors dancing grotesquely in the three lights, past openings in the occasional high metal partitions, past something which was perhaps a conveyor belt, past another something which could have been anything at all.\n \n The metal street ended eventually in a blank metal wall.\n \n The edge of the city—the city which was a dome of force above and a bowl of metal below.\n \n After a long time, Wass sighed. \"Well, skipper...?\"\n \n \"We go back, I guess,\" Martin said.\n \n Rodney turned swiftly to face him. Martin thought the tall man was holding his gun. \"To the switchboard, Martin?\"\n \n \"Unless someone has a better idea,\" Martin conceded. He waited. But Rodney was holding the gun ... and Wass was.... Then—\"I can't think of anything else.\"\n \n They began to retrace their steps along the metal street, back past the same dancing shapes of metal, the partitions, the odd windows, all looking different now in the new angles of illumination.\n \n Martin was in the lead. Wass followed him silently. Rodney, tall, matchstick thin, even in his cumbersome suit, swayed with jaunty triumph in the rear.\n \n Martin looked at the metal street lined with its metal objects and he sighed. He remembered how the dark buildings of the city looked at surface level, how the city itself looked when they were landing, and then when they were walking toward it. The dream was gone again for now. Idealism died in him, again and again, yet it was always reborn. But—The only city, so far as anyone knew, on the first planet they'd ever explored. And it had to be like this. Nightmares, Wass said, and Martin thought perhaps the city was built by a race of beings who at some point twisted away from their evolutionary spiral, plagued by a sort of racial insanity.\n \n No, Martin thought, shaking his head. No, that couldn't be. Viewpoint ... his viewpoint. It was the haunting sense of familiarity, a faint strain through all this broad jumble, the junkpile of alien metal, which was making him theorize so wildly.\n \n Then Wass touched his elbow. \"Look there, Martin. Left of the ramp.\"\n \n Light from their torches was reflected, as from glass.\n \n \"All right,\" Rodney said belligerently into his radio. \"What's holding up the procession?\"\n \n Martin was silent.\n \n Wass undertook to explain. Why not, after all? Martin asked himself. It was in Wass' own interest. In a moment, all three were standing before a bank of glass cases which stretched off into the distance as far as the combined light of their torches would reach.\n \n \"Seeds!\" Wass exclaimed, his faceplate pressed against the glass.\n \n Martin blinked. He thought how little time they had. He wet his lips.\n \n Wass' gloved hands fumbled awkwardly at a catch in the nearest section of the bank.\n \n Martin thought of the dark, convoluted land outside the city. If they wouldn't grow there.... Or had they, once? \"Don't, Wass!\"\n \n Torchlight reflected from Wass' faceplate as he turned his head. \"Why not?\"\n \n They were like children.... \"We don't know, released, what they'll do.\"\n \n \"Skipper,\" Wass said carefully, \"if we don't get out of this place by the deadline we may be eating these.\"\n \n Martin raised his arm tensely. \"Opening a seed bank doesn't help us find a way out of here.\" He started up the ramp. \"Besides, we've no water.\"\n \n Rodney came last up the ramp, less jaunty now, but still holding the gun. His mind, too, was taken up with childhood's imaginings. \"For a plant to grow in this environment, it wouldn't need much water. Maybe—\" he had a vision of evil plants attacking them, growing with super-swiftness at the air valves and joints of their suits \"—only the little moisture in the atmosphere.\"\n \n \n\n \n They stood before the switchboard again. Martin and Wass side by side, Rodney, still holding his gun, slightly to the rear.\n \n Rodney moved forward a little toward the switches. His breathing was loud and rather uneven in the radio receivers.\n \n Martin made a final effort. \"Rodney, it's still almost nine hours to take off. Let's search awhile first. Let this be a last resort.\"\n \n Rodney jerked his head negatively. \"No. Now, I know you, Martin. Postpone and postpone until it's too late, and the ship leaves without us and we're stranded here to eat seeds and gradually dehydrate ourselves and God only knows what else and—\"\n \n He reached out convulsively and yanked a switch.\n \n Martin leaped, knocking him to the floor. Rodney's gun skittered away silently, like a live thing, out of the range of the torches.\n \n The radio receivers impersonally recorded the grating sounds of Rodney's sobs.\n \n \"Sorry,\" Martin said, without feeling. He turned quickly. \"Wass?\"\n \n The slight, blond man stood unmoving. \"I'm with you, Martin, but, as a last resort it might be better to be blown sky high than to die gradually—\"\n \n Martin was watching Rodney, struggling to get up. \"I agree. As a last resort. We still have a little time.\"\n \n Rodney's tall, spare figure looked bowed and tired in the torchlight, now that he was up again. \"Martin, I—\"\n \n Martin turned his back. \"Skip it, Rodney,\" he said gently.\n \n \"Water,\" Wass said thoughtfully. \"There must be reservoirs under this city somewhere.\"\n \n Rodney said, \"How does water help us get out?\"\n \n Martin glanced at Wass, then started out of the switchboard room, not looking back. \"It got in and out of the city some way. Perhaps we can leave the same way.\"\n \n Down the ramp again.\n \n \"There's another ramp,\" Wass murmured.\n \n Rodney looked down it. \"I wonder how many there are, all told.\"\n \n Martin placed one foot on the metal incline. He angled his torch down, picking out shadowy, geometrical shapes, duplicates of the ones on the present level. \"We'll find out,\" he said, \"how many there are.\"\n \n Eleven levels later Rodney asked, \"How much time have we now?\"\n \n \"Seven hours,\" Wass said quietly, \"until take-off.\"\n \n \"One more level,\" Martin said, ignoring the reference to time. \"I ... think it's the last.\"\n \n They walked down the ramp and stood together, silent in a dim pool of artificial light on the bottom level of the alien city.\n \n Rodney played his torch about the metal figures carefully placed about the floor. \"Martin, what if there are no reservoirs? What if there are cemeteries instead? Or cold storage units? Maybe the switch I pulled—\"\n \n \"Rodney! Stop it!\"\n \n Rodney swallowed audibly. \"This place scares me....\"\n \n \"The first time I was ever in a rocket, it scared me. I was thirteen.\"\n \n \"This is different,\" Wass said. \"Built-in traps—\"\n \n \"They had a war,\" Martin said.\n \n Wass agreed. \"And the survivors retired here. Why?\"\n \n Martin said, \"They wanted to rebuild. Or maybe this was already built before the war as a retreat.\" He turned impatiently. \"How should I know?\"\n \n Wass turned, too, persistent. \"But the planet was through with them.\"\n \n \"In a minute,\" Martin said, too irritably, \"we'll have a sentient planet.\" From the corner of his eye he saw Rodney start at that. \"Knock it off, Wass. We're looking for reservoirs, you know.\"\n \n They moved slowly down the metal avenue, between the twisted shadow shapes, looking carefully about them.\n \n Rodney paused. \"We might not recognize one.\"\n \n Martin urged him on. \"You know what a man-hole cover looks like.\" He added dryly, \"Use your imagination.\"\n \n They reached the metal wall at the end of the avenue and paused again, uncertain.\n \n Martin swung his flashlight, illuminating the distorted metal shapes.\n \n Wass said, \"All this had a purpose, once....\"\n \n \"We'll disperse and search carefully,\" Martin said.\n \n \"I wonder what the pattern was.\"\n \n \"... The reservoirs, Wass. The pattern will still be here for later expeditions to study. So will we if we don't find a way to get out.\"\n \n Their radios recorded Rodney's gasp. Then—\"Martin! Martin! I think I've found something!\"\n \n Martin began to run. After a moment's hesitation, Wass swung in behind him.\n \n \"Here,\" Rodney said, as they came up to him, out of breath. \"Here. See? Right here.\"\n \n Three flashlights centered on a dark, metal disk raised a foot or more from the floor.\n \n \"Well, they had hands.\" With his torch Wass indicated a small wheel of the same metal as everything else in the city, set beside the disk.\n \n From its design Martin assumed that the disk was meant to be grasped and turned. He wondered what precisely they were standing over.\n \n \"Well, Skipper, are you going to do the honors?\"\n \n Martin kneeled, grasped the wheel. It turned easily—almost too easily—rotating the disk as it turned.\n \n Suddenly, without a sound, the disk rose, like a hatch, on a concealed hinge.\n \n The three men, clad in their suits and helmets, grouped around the six-foot opening, shining their torches down into the thing that drifted and eddied directly beneath them.\n \n Rodney's sudden grip on Martin's wrist nearly shattered the bone.\n\"Martin! It's all alive! It's moving!\"\n \n Martin hesitated long enough for a coil to move sinuously up toward the opening. Then he spun the wheel and the hatch slammed down.\n \n He was shaking.\n \n \n\n \n After a time he said, \"Rodney, Wass, it's dust, down there. Remember the wind? Air currents are moving it.\"\n \n Rodney sat down on the metal flooring. For a long time he said nothing. Then—\"It wasn't.... Why did you close the hatch then?\"\n \n Martin did not say he thought the other two would have shot him, otherwise. He said merely, \"At first I wasn't sure myself.\"\n \n Rodney stood up, backing away from the closed hatch. He held his gun loosely, and his hand shook. \"Then prove it. Open it again.\"\n \n Martin went to the wheel. He noticed Wass was standing behind Rodney and he, too, had drawn his gun.\n \n The hatch rose again at Martin's direction. He stood beside it, outlined in the light of two torches.\n \n For a little while he was alone.\n \n Then—causing a gasp from Wass, a harsh expletive from Rodney—a tenuous, questing alien limb edged through the hatch, curling about Martin, sparkling in ten thousand separate particles in the torchlight, obscuring the dimly seen backdrop of geometrical processions of strange objects.\n \n \n\n \n Martin raised an arm, and the particles swirled in stately, shimmering spirals.\n \n Rodney leaned forward and looked over the edge of the hatch. He said nothing. He eyed the sparkling particles swirling about Martin, and now, himself.\n \n \"How deep,\" Wass said, from his safe distance.\n \n \"We'll have to lower a flashlight,\" Martin answered.\n \n Rodney, all eagerness to be of assistance now, lowered a rope with a torch swinging wildly on the end of it.\n \n The torch came to rest about thirty feet down. It shone on gently rolling mounds of fine, white stuff.\n \n Martin anchored the rope soundly, and paused, half across the lip of the hatch to stare coldly at Wass. \"You'd rather monkey with the switches and blow yourself to smithereens?\"\n \n Wass sighed and refused to meet Martin's gaze. Martin looked at him disgustedly, and then began to descend the rope, slowly, peering into the infinite, sparkling darkness pressing around him. At the bottom of the rope he sank to his knees in dust, and then was held even. He stamped his feet, and then, as well as he was able, did a standing jump. He sank no farther than his knees.\n \n He sighted a path parallel with the avenue above, toward the nearest edge of the city. \"I think we'll be all right,\" he called out, \"as long as we avoid the drifts.\"\n \n Rodney began the descent. Looking up, Martin saw Wass above Rodney.\n \n \"All right, Wass,\" Martin said quietly, as Rodney released the rope and sank into the dust.\n \n \"Not me,\" the answer came back quickly. \"You two fools go your way, I'll go mine.\"\n \n \"Wass!\"\n \n There was no answer. The light faded swiftly away from the opening.\n \n The going was hard. The dust clung like honey to their feet, and eddied and swirled about them until the purifying systems in their suits were hard-pressed to remove the fine stuff working in at joints and valves.\n \n \"Are we going straight?\" Rodney asked.\n \n \"Of course,\" Martin growled.\n \n There was silence again, the silence of almost-exhausted determination. The two men lifted their feet out of the dust, and then laboriously plunged forward, to sink again to the knees, repeated the act, times without number.\n \n Then Wass broke his silence, taunting. \"The ship leaves in two hours, Martin. Two hours. Hear me, Rodney?\"\n \n Martin pulled his left foot from the sand and growled deep in his throat. Ahead, through the confusing patterns of the sparkling dust, his flashlight gleamed against metal. He grabbed Rodney's arm, pointed.\n \n A grate.\n \n Rodney stared. \"Wass!\" he shouted. \"We've found a way out!\"\n \n Their radios recorded Wass' laughter. \"I'm at the switchboard now, Martin. I—\"\n \n There was a tinkle of breaking glass, breaking faceplate.\n \n The grate groaned upward and stopped.\n \n Wass babbled incoherently into the radio for a moment, and then he began to scream.\n \n Martin switched off his radio, sick.\n \n He turned it on again when they reached the opening in the metal wall.\n\"Well?\"\n \n \"I've been trying to get you,\" Rodney said, frantically. \"Why didn't you answer?\"\n \n \"We couldn't do anything for him.\"\n \n Rodney's face was white and drawn. \"But he did this for us.\"\n \n \"So he did,\" Martin said, very quietly.\n \n Rodney said nothing.\n \n Then Martin said, \"Did you listen until the end?\"\n \n Rodney nodded, jerkily. \"He pulled three more switches. I couldn't understand it all. But—Martin, dying alone like that in a place like this—!\"\n \n Martin crawled into the circular pipe behind the grate. It tilted up toward the surface. \"Come on, Rodney. Last lap.\"\n \n An hour later they surfaced about two hundred yards away from the edge of the city. Behind them the black pile rose, the dome of force shimmering, almost invisible, about it.\n \n Ahead of them were the other two scoutships from the mother ship. Martin called out faintly, pulling Rodney out of the pipe. Crew members standing by the scoutships, and at the edge of the city, began to run toward them.\n \n \"Radio picked you up as soon as you entered the pipe,\" someone said. It was the last thing Martin heard before he collapsed.", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "10", "uid": "690fb4ae4b8b4882a636e3f374bfe518", "response_text": "The story opens with Rodney, Martin and Wass landing on a foreign planet and overlooking an abandoned metal city where the inhabitants supposedly died more than a million years ago. They had thirteen hours to explore before they must return to their mother ship.\nThey notice a metal rim at the perimeter of the city that they must step over to enter, and continue in to explore. Wass must return to their “lifeboat” spaceship to get a camera, but is unable to exit the city as the metal band they noticed coming in has turned into a dome-shaped shield over the entire city. They suspect it may be a radiation shield, and are suspicious that the wind they saw when landing and their inability to contact their home ship may indicate a tragedy took place as they arrived. \nThey find a control center of sorts with lots of knobs and levers, but do not engage with it for fear of not knowing what might happen. They all find the city somewhat familiar, but have no idea why. \nThey begin looking for where the water of the city comes from, since they may be able to find a way out of the city through its transport corridors. They all begin to start frightening each other with stories and seeing dust and objects move around in the dark. Rodney and Martin enter an underground tunnel through a hatch in the ground and Wass chooses not to follow them and instead leaves to return to the switchboard.\nAs Rodney and Martin discover a grate in the tunnel it begins to open for them. Wass delivers the message on the radio that he was able to do that from the control room, and then something attacks and kills him. Rodney and Martin escape to the outside of the dome to where others from their crew have come to their rescue. It is unclear whether Rodney and Martin ultimately live after they exit the tunnel.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "28cad34bf75d41e485d024c16af6ee14", "response_text": "Martin, Rodney, and Wass are the 11th expedition to arrive on this planet. However, with only 13 hours left before they need to depart, they are the first to discover the city tucked away on an island. They make their way to the malignant-looking, black buildings and step over a metal band to enter. They explore the city briefly, taking turns guessing at who lived here before and what everything meant. Martin asks for pictures, but Wass says he left the camera back in the lifeboat. He leaves to go retrieve it, while Martin and Rodney keep exploring. The buildings are surprisingly small and the doorways only reach their shoulders. Wass radios in to say that their is no exit, because a force field has sprung up around the city. They try and think of ways to escape, but they’re not left with many options. They throw around the idea of an anti-radiation screen to protect the inhabitants. They decide to meet in the center of the city and explore one of the buildings to see if they can find an escape. \nAs they step in, they are all shocked at the interior architecture, which resembles a beehive. Rodney finds a switchboard, which they all fight over. Rodney and Wass want to try some switches and see if it will aid them in their escape, but Martin doesn’t want to take such a big risk seeing as they still had eleven hours. They all pull their guns on each other, but the situation deescalates and they continue on their way. They travel down a ramp until they reach a flat wall. The dome was a force field on top, and then continued down with a metal surface. They went back up to the switchboard, until Wass stopped them. A glass case filled with seeds was to their left. They looked through it, but Martin stopped the boys from taking any out. Finally, at the switchboard with their weapons out, Martin tries to stop them from making any rash decisions as they still had nine hours. Rodney gets upset and impulsively flicks a switch. Martin tackles him before any more harm can be done. Wass realizes that there are water reservoirs under the city.  \nThey travel down again until they reach a hatch. It lifts up, and a coil slithers out. They quickly shut it, until Martin reasons that it’s just dust. So he opens it again, and dust emerges. They throw down a rope with a flashlight and Martin heads down. Rodney follows after him, landing in the dust. Wass does not, however, and shuts the hatch above them. He thinks he will survive by the switchboard, not in the tunnels. Martin and Rodney travel for a few hours before reaching a closed grate. Wass laughs at them (only two hours left) and starts flicking switches. The grate suddenly opens, and they hear his screams. He is killed, but his sacrifice allowed the others to live. \n"}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5999feaed18a4fd6ad68cb0d3f7d7029", "response_text": "Three men--Martin, Wass, and Rodney--are part of the crew of the eleventh inter-planetary expedition sent to explore a planet close to their own. Previous expeditions had not been able to locate the city said to be on the planet, but this crew has been successful where others have failed. The three men pilot a lifeboat to investigate the empty, metal city and only have thirteen hours to photograph and catalogue what they discover there before it will be too late to safely return to their planet. As they observe the city from a distance, they witness a large, dark cloud of wind and dust approaching the city. Approaching the city's borders, they discuss it is surrounded by a metal band, and in fact the entire city is made entirely of metal. Everything is a bit mysterious and even feels familiar to Martin. Who lived here? How did they see when it was dark outside? Did they crawl or walk? Were they a distant relative of their own species and experienced different evolutions? The men think about these things as they make their way through the city. Wass realizes he has forgotten his camera to take pictures and begins to muse that the city has a mind of its own. When he goes to retrieve his camera, the metal band bordering the town has unleashed a kind of force field, preventing Wass from leaving and effectively imprisoning the team. They wonder about the purpose of the wall--was it a defense mechanism against radiation used during some kind of war? The force field also prevents communication with their main ship, so they decide to make their way down into the city's depths to look for a way to escape. Once inside, they examine their surroundings and notice the architecture is the same smooth metal that formed the surface buildings and are arranged in a series of arches and corridors resembling a beehive. Rodney discovers a switchboard, which leads Martin to believe the whole city is some kind of machine or engine. After struggling to find a way out, Wass discovers a bank of glass cases filled with seeds. They return to the switchboard, and Rodney wants to flip one of the switches, since time is running out, but Martin punches him down to stop him. Then Martin to theorize there must be a water reservoir nearby. They move further into the depths and discover a hatch, inside of which is a sea of dust. Rodney and Martin follow the sea to a metal grate exit, but Wass stays behind. He flips a switch and is killed, but the metal grate opens and Rodney and Martin are freed."}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "787e7f7becb34b91818f544258603057", "response_text": "The story takes place on a planet in the same star system as Earth, where the crew of the thirteenth flight to the planet is exploring. There are three scout ships, and the story focuses on one, with the crew of Rodney, Martin, and Wass. They see what they think is the only city on the planet, never before discussed by other crews, and approach it to investigate. They are struck by its darkness, both in the lack of light as well as the dark metal that makes up most of the structures. They notice a metal band that surrounds the city, and step over it to continue onward. When Wass turns back to find the camera he left behind, he realizes he's trapped, and that the metal band turned into something akin to a glass wall. They can no longer contact their ship and need a way out. They figure their best bet is to go towards the center of the city and make their way down, in case they can dig out. They head down a magnificent ramp, dwarfed by the grand architecture of the city, and come across what looks like a switchboard. Martin threatens Rodney when he tried to reach for the switchboard and forces the group to keep walking, hoping that if the force-field is a dome that covers the top of the city, they might be able to find a way out by going under it. They are baffled by the huge structures in the city that seem to be supporting themselves, unsure of how the city keeps itself up. They eventually find the end of the city where all they see is a blank wall, so they head back towards the switchboard. Through all of this, Martin is seeing glimpses of familiarity in the city that he can't place. They find glass cases of seeds, which Martin warns Wass not to disturb - it's possible that these plants had grown outside the city at one point and they did not know what to expect if they were released. Rodney flips a random switch, which makes Martin tackle him, and they head to look for a water source or reservoir, continuing further downwards. Rodney finds a large metal disk with a wheel next to it, and Martin opens up the hatch. The group sees that whatever was inside is moving, shut the door out of fear, and eventually open it back up to take a closer look. A tentacle made of what looks like sparkling light particles swirls up into the area the men were standing in, and Martin and Rodney climb down the hatch, wading through the deep dust at the bottom, with Wass refusing to follow. Martin and Rodney eventually find an escape hatch, but they have to rely on Wass to open it for them from the switchboard. Wass dies screaming at whatever had broken glass behind him, and Martin and Rodney are rescued by the rest of their crew. "}]}, {"question_text": "What happens to Wass through the story?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "10", "uid": "690fb4ae4b8b4882a636e3f374bfe518", "response_text": "Wass is an equal part of the exploration party with Rodney and Martin until he has had enough and parts ways with them when they enter an underground passageway filled with dust. Wass instead returns to the switchboard and pulls a series of levers that allows Rodney and Martin to escape from the city through the underground tunnels - saving their lives. Wass ultimately dies at the switchboard, though it is not clear what kills him. "}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "28cad34bf75d41e485d024c16af6ee14", "response_text": "Wass is one of the explorers sent out to further investigate this planet. He is a photographer and is the first to realize that they are trapped within the city’s screen. Wass, Martin, and Rodney all try and figure out a way to get out, who these aliens were, and what they’re going to do, but quickly their relationship begins to deteriorate. Wass and Rodney turn against Martin fairly quickly, as they are so desperate to escape that they aren’t willing to further explore all options. \nWass meets Martin and Rodney in the center of the city before travelling into one of the buildings. They find a switchboard there, which he is in favor of messing with, but Martin persuades him otherwise. Wass continually points his weapon at Martin and forces him to perfom dangerous tasks first. He discovers the seed bank, which Martin cautions the rest of the crew not to touch. When Rodney and Martin land in the tunnels, Wass shuts the hatch above them and runs back to the switchboard. He taunts them with the time and how many hours left. He believes he will escape by flicking switches on the switchboard, and that Rodney and Martin will die in the tunnels. However, his flicking switches actually brought about Rodney and Martin’s rescue, as the grate that they were stuck at opened. Wass dies after flicking three or four of the switches and his screams reverberate throughout their radio. \n"}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5999feaed18a4fd6ad68cb0d3f7d7029", "response_text": "Not long after the three men enter the metal city, Wass senses that something is amiss. Something about the city's architecture reminds him of his nightmares and makes him feel uneasy. He worries they are trapped for good and will miss their return flight when a force field surrounding the city prevents him from returning to the lifeboat to fetch his camera. Wass also appears to be very curious about the nature and physical attributes of the species that populated the city prior to their disappearance. He believes they must have been shorter due to the small stature of the buildings. Over time, he begins to show signs that he might believe the city and planet are in some way alive and have a will of their own. Perhaps it is this will that caused Wass to forget his camera. He is also very invested in mysterious geometric patterns they discover during their wanderings through the depths of the city, and he becomes extremely excited when he discovers a bank of glass cases which hold some kind of seeds. Wass wants to open them, but Martin warns him against this. The seeds might be some kind of plant or perhaps the offspring of the species that retired there. Whatever the case, Martin insists they attempt to find a water reservoir because it will likely lead to their escape. Wass refuses to follow them in, and instead stays behind to flip the switch that opens the grate that allows Martin and Rodney to escape. Wass is killed in a mysterious fashion.  "}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "787e7f7becb34b91818f544258603057", "response_text": "Wass is one of the three men in his scout ship, a subset of the larger crew he is on a mission with. He is a slight blonde man with a large nose, and is in charge of the camera equipment in their group. He wanders into the city with Martin and Rodney, and when he realizes he left the camera behind, he is also faced with a new problem: there seems to be a glass barrier trapping him and his crewmates in the old city. He shouts into his radio to update the others, and they begin to brainstorm. The three of them travel through much of the city and some of the buildings trying to find a way out, and they eventually find a large hatch that Martin and Rodney jump into. Wass refuses to join, staying on top of the hatch, but once Rodney and Martin find a way out they realize the exit is covered in a metal grate. Wass had made it to the switchboard by then, and flips four switches which open the exit for Rodney and Martin to leave, but he screams into the radio after he starts this. Whatever it was with him must have killed him, but thanks to Wass, his crewmates made it out of the city alive to be rescued by the rest of the ship. "}]}, {"question_text": "Where does the story take place?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "10", "uid": "690fb4ae4b8b4882a636e3f374bfe518", "response_text": "The story takes place on the surface of a planet that has an abandoned city made of metal. The city is spooky and the inhabitants supposedly died over a million years ago. However, they see things moving strangely while they are in the city suggesting it is inhabited, and something kills Wass within the city during the story.\nThey explore the metal streets of the city, a room with a large switchboard, and seven levels underground. Rodney and Martin explore an underground tunnel that eventually leads them out of the city and to the safety of their fellow crew. \n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "28cad34bf75d41e485d024c16af6ee14", "response_text": "Dust Unto Dust by Lyman D. Hinckley takes place on an island that had been previously explored. The ten previous groups never discovered the dull, black city on the island, but the eleventh did. This is presumably the only city on this planet that had not been inhabited for more than a million years. Only small mosses grew on the planet. \nThis city is made of insidious, black metal with similar architectural designs to modern earth. However, everything is shorter, presumably to make up for the inhabitant’s shortened size. The character theorize that this city was under attack at one point, which would explain the anti-radiantion screen or force field that surrounds the entire city. Dull black streets twist and turn throughout the city and buildings rise up above them. \nOne of the buildings was designed almost like a beehive, many openings and arches and ways to escape. There were shetlers built underneath the city, again another sign of war. Beneath the shelters lay a series of tunnels that could have been used to bring water into the city. Now they are simply filled with dust. \n"}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5999feaed18a4fd6ad68cb0d3f7d7029", "response_text": "The story takes place on an unnamed planet close to the home planet of the story’s three main characters. Martin, Rodney, and Wass are part of the crew on the eleventh inter-planetary expedition that seeks to discover the mysteries of the unnamed metal city. The planet is covered with mostly barren earth that leads up to the black city. A large cloud of dust blows over the city, which is protected by a kind of force field after the protagonists enter. The city is entirely constructed with smooth, black metal; Wass notes how low the buildings are, which might indicate the size of the species that previously lived there. When the protagonists decide to go underneath the city to find a way to escape, they discover several levels of interlocking arches and corridors that resemble a massive beehive. The men travel between levels using a number of ramps, and when they arrive at the bottommost level, they discover a subterranean level filled with a knee-high, flowing current of sparkling dust. Rodney and Martin follow the current to a metal grate, which leads to the surface outside the city."}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "787e7f7becb34b91818f544258603057", "response_text": "This story takes place on a planet that is in the same star system as Earth, where thirteen different exploratory missions have visited. The humans had not realized that there was a city on the planet, from previous missions, but there is a lone city that one of the scout ships encounters on this thirteenth mission. There is a lot of sand and dust with some wind in the planet's terrain in general, and the city sticks out as being constructed of large metal structures. Everything in the city is at a very large scale: the man traverse wide ramps that they find under tall arches, and inside of buildings the halls and rooms seem endless. It is even more frightening in that the city is shrouded in darkness because of the metal streets, and the travelers wonder how much scarier it would be in the wintertime when there wasn't natural light. The city has a large metal ring surrounding it that the men are able to walk over to enter the city, but after they do this a large force-field of sorts is triggered and the ring transforms into the base of this protective barrier. Whatever this barrier's original purpose is, it has the effect of keeping the humans from leaving the city and blocks out the wind. Much of the story happens in the lower levels of the city, passing a switchboard and a seed bank and eventually ending up in a reservoir that held the pipe that the surviving men escaped through."}]}, {"question_text": "What is the relationship like between Rodney, Martin, and Wass?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "10", "uid": "690fb4ae4b8b4882a636e3f374bfe518", "response_text": "They are bound by a sense of duty to the mission. However, when they are put in the predicament of being trapped under the dome, their bond begins to fray and they start fighting with each other about the best means of escape.\nRodney and Martin squabble, but both stick together in exploring an underground tunnel filled with dust while Wass elects to go his own way. Wass ultimately appears to sacrifice his life to save Rodney and Martin by returning to the switchboard and opening a grate that allows them to escape from the city. \n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "28cad34bf75d41e485d024c16af6ee14", "response_text": "As colleagues and explorers, at first their relationship is well-balanced and intellectually-stimulating. They bounce ideas off of each other about the city, the force field, and its inhabitants. However, as soon as they realize that they’re stuck, their relationship begins to crumble. \nAs each man feels their self-preservation instincts rise, their banter becomes more and more tense. After Wass reveals that they are stuck inside of the city due to the dome surrounding it, all three meet back in the center to find another way out. This is where the great source of their conflict begins. They explore one of the buildings and find a switchboard in it relatively quickly. Rodney and Wass want to flick some switches and see what happens, but Martin disagrees. They all pull their guns on each other, until Martin can convince them to only use the switchboard as a last resort. Over the course of the story, Rodney and Wass continually make Martin do things first, whether that be leading them on paths or travelling down the hatch. Wass and Rodney would often pull their guns out on him too, but Martin stayed relatively calm. \nAfter the discovery of the tunnel system, Rodney follows Martin down the hatch, but Wass shuts them in. He makes his way back to the switchboard, certain that his way is right and theirs is wrong. Although their relationship was pretty strong at first, their survival instinct, genuine fear, and malignant nature of the city all played a part to further divide the three. \n"}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5999feaed18a4fd6ad68cb0d3f7d7029", "response_text": "Martin seems to be the de facto leader of the group, guiding them through the important decisions that lead them through the city. Rodney and Wass oscillate between being obedient followers and fearful, panicky crewmates who want to think and act independently. Wass has a stronger connection to the metaphysical elements of the metal city and seems to remember the place from his nightmares. He has an intense curiosity about the patterns he discovers in the metal architecture as well as the seeds he discovers in the glass cases. Martin is often impatient with his two crewmembers, particularly Rodney, whom he punches in the face and knocks to the ground to prevent him from flipping switches on the switchboard they discover. He also seems disgusted by Wass when he refuses to follow them into the dust current. Wass sacrifices himself to save his fellow crewmembers, although his death is shrouded in mystery."}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "787e7f7becb34b91818f544258603057", "response_text": "Martin is clearly in charge, though he does not have a gentle hand. He threatens his crewmates frequently, putting them at gunpoint at multiple times throughout the story. Although it was Rodney who found the hatch that would get them out, Martin was the one who did the honors to open it, after shooting down the other ideas that the crew had including using the switchboard. Rodney wants to get things moving quickly, and wants to use the switchboard to try for a way out, but this is when Martin pulls a gun on him. Rodney also flips a random switch which makes Martin tackle him, so it seems that their dynamic is focused on Rodney doing reckless things and Martin wanting to get his way while trying to survive. Wass offers ideas to the other throughout their journey but he does not seem to be taken seriously, asking many general questions as he tries to interpret what is happening to him. However, it is Wass that got Rodney and Martin out in the end. "}]}, {"question_text": "What was the key to their escape?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "10", "uid": "690fb4ae4b8b4882a636e3f374bfe518", "response_text": "Choosing to search underground for where water might enter and exit the city was an important step for them to find the tunnel that led to their escape. However, Wass’ pulling levers at the switchboard was critical to opening the grate inside the tunnel that actually allowed them to leave. Otherwise, they did not have tools with them that would have likely allowed them to escape in time.\nIf Martin had not forced the team to join together when they were fighting over the control panel the first time, they likely may have never escaped as well."}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "28cad34bf75d41e485d024c16af6ee14", "response_text": "After Rodney and Martin decided to escape through the tunnels, Wass stayed aboveground, taunting them. He thought his best chances were with the switchboard. While they traversed underground, he made his way back to the switchboard. With only two hours to spare, Rodney and Martin were faced with a closed grate. Wass came on through the radio, making fun of them, and then began to pull switches. Luckily enough, one of the switches he pulled activated the grate and it opened for them. Soon, they hear Wass screaming as he’s dying. Martin and Rodney escape through the grate, which tunnels upward around 200 feet from the edge of the city. Because of Wass, they were able to escape alive. "}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5999feaed18a4fd6ad68cb0d3f7d7029", "response_text": "The discovery of the seeds leads Martin to assume there must be some kind of water source within the depths of the metal city, so they use the ramps to access the bottommost level. The team discovers a hatch there that opens to a sea of dust. Rodney and Martin lower themselves into the dust current, but Wass refuses to join them, choosing instead to stay in the city to test the switches Rodney had discovered earlier. Martin warns him that this is likely a death sentence, but Wass does not seem to care. Martin and Rodney follow the current to a metal grate, and Wass triggers the switch to open the gate. In doing so, he is killed in a mysterious fashion. Martin and Rodney crawl through a tunnel and surface outside the barrier of the metal city just in time to be picked up by their main ship before its return to their planet."}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "787e7f7becb34b91818f544258603057", "response_text": "In order to escape the city, the men had to travel as far down as they could, looking for a reservoir that might have some kind of exit pathway. They do find a large hatch in the bottom of the building they are in, where Martin and Rodney jump into a deep pile of dust that they essentially wade through in order to make their way towards an exit. However, the pipe that they find to escape through is shut by a metal grate. Wass had never jumped through the hatch, and while standing at the switchboard, flipped four switches that raised the grate for them. Wass died while trying to open the escape route for his crewmates, but if it were not for him they would not have made it out alive."}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "61467", "uid": "cc0c681db1a447bda048ed181919b50a", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "MUCK MAN\n \n\n BY FREMONT DODGE\n \n\n The work wasn't hard, but there were some sacrifices. You had to give up hope and freedom—and being human!\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, November 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n\n I\n \n The girl with the Slider egg glittering in her hair watched the bailiff lead Asa Graybar out of the courtroom. He recognized her as old Hazeltyne's daughter Harriet, no doubt come to see justice done. She didn't have the hothouse-flower look Asa would have expected in a girl whose father owned the most valuable of the planetary franchises. She was not afraid to meet his eye, the eye of a judicially certified criminal. There was, perhaps, a crease of puzzlement in her brow, as if she had thought crimes were committed by shriveled, rat-faced types, and not by young biological engineers who still affected crewcuts.\n \n Tom Dorr, Hazeltyne's general manager, was her escort. Asa felt certain, without proof, that Dorr was the man who had framed him for the charge of grand theft by secreting a fresh Slider egg in his laboratory. The older man stared at Asa coldly as he was led out of the courtroom and down the corridor back to jail.\n \n Jumpy, Asa's cellmate, took one look at his face as he was put back behind bars.\n \n \"Guilty,\" Jumpy said.\n \n Asa glared at him.\n \n \"I know, I know,\" Jumpy said hastily. \"You were framed. But what's the rap?\"\n \n \"Five or one.\"\n \n \"Take the five,\" Jumpy advised. \"Learn basket-weaving in a nice air-conditioned rehab clinic. A year on a changeling deal will seem a lot longer, even if you're lucky enough to live through it.\"\n \n Asa took four steps to the far wall of the cell, stood there briefly with his head bent and turned to face Jumpy.\n \n \"Nope,\" Asa said softly. \"I'm going into a conversion tank. I'm going to be a muck man, Jumpy. I'm going out to Jordan's Planet and hunt Slider eggs.\"\n \n \"Smuggling? It won't work.\"\n \n Asa didn't answer. The Hazeltyne company had gone after him because he had been working on a method of keeping Slider eggs alive. The Hazeltyne company would be happy to see him mark time for five years of so-called social reorientation. But if he could get out to Jordan's Planet, with his physiology adapted to the environment of that wretched world, he could study the eggs under conditions no laboratory could duplicate. He might even be able to cause trouble for Hazeltyne.\n \n His only problem would be staying alive for a year.\n \n \n\n \n An interview with a doctor from the Conversion Corps was required for all persons who elected changeling status. The law stated that potential changelings must be fully informed of the rights and hazards of altered shape before they signed a release. The requirement held whether or not the individual, like Asa, was already experienced.\n \n By the time humanity traveled to the stars, medical biology had made it possible to regenerate damaged or deficient organs of the body. Regeneration was limited only by advanced age. Sometime after a man's two hundredth year his body lost the ability to be coaxed into growing new cells. A fifth set of teeth was usually one's last. As long as senescence could be staved off, however, any man could have bulging biceps and a pencil waist, if he could pay for the treatment.\n \n Until the medical associations declared such treatments unethical there was even a short fad of deliberate deformities, with horns at the temples particularly popular.\n \n From regeneration it was a short step to specialized regrowth. The techniques were perfected to adapt humans to the dozen barely habitable worlds man had discovered. Even on Mars, the only planet outside Earth in the solar system where the human anatomy was remotely suitable, a man could work more efficiently with redesigned lungs and temperature controls than he could inside a pressure suit. On more bizarre planets a few light-years away the advantages of changeling bodies were greater.\n \n Unfortunately for planetary development companies, hardly anyone wanted to become a changeling. High pay lured few. So a law was passed permitting a convicted criminal to earn his freedom by putting in one year as a changeling for every five years he would otherwise have had to spend in rehabilitation.\n \n \"What types of changelings do you have orders for right now, doctor?\" Asa asked the man assigned to his case. It would look suspicious if he asked for Jordan's Planet without some preliminary questions.\n \n \"Four,\" answered the doctor.\n \n \"Squiffs for New Arcady. Adapted for climbing the skycraper trees and with the arm structure modified into pseudo-wings or gliding. Then we need spiderinos for Von Neumann Two. If you want the nearest thing we have to Earth, there's Caesar's Moon, where we'd just have to double your tolerance for carbon monoxide and make you a bigger and better gorilla than the natives. Last, of course, there's always a need for muck men on Jordan's Planet.\"\n \n The doctor shrugged, as if naturally no one could be expected to choose Jordan's Planet. Asa frowned in apparent consideration of the alternatives.\n \n \"What's the pay range?\" he asked.\n \n \"Ten dollars a day on Caesar's Moon. Fifteen on New Arcady or Von Neumann Two. Twenty-five on Jordan's.\"\n \n Asa raised his eyebrows.\n \n \"Why such a difference? Everyone knows about muck men living in the mud while they hunt Slider eggs. But don't your conversions make the changeling comfortable in his new environment?\"\n \n \"Sure they do,\" said the doctor. \"We can make you think mud feels better than chinchilla fur and we can have you jumping like a grasshopper despite the double gravity. But we can't make you like the sight of yourself. And we can't guarantee that a Slider won't kill you.\"\n \n \"Still,\" Asa mused aloud, \"it would mean a nice bankroll waiting at the end of the year.\"\n \n He leaned forward to fill in the necessary form.\n \n \n\n \n Since it was cheaper to transport a normal human than to rig special environments in a spaceship, every planet operated its own conversion chambers. On the space freighter that carried him from Earth Asa Graybar was confined to a small cabin that was opened only for a guard to bring meals and take out dirty dishes. He was still a prisoner.\n \n Sometimes he could hear voices in the passageway outside, and once one of them sounded like a woman's. But since women neither served on spaceships nor worked in the dome settlements on harsher worlds, he decided it was his imagination. He might have been dead cargo for all he learned about space travel.\n \n Nevertheless his time was not wasted. He had as a companion, or cellmate, another convict who had elected conversion to muck man. More important, his companion had done time on Jordan's Planet before and had wanted to return.\n \n \"It's the Slider eggs,\" explained Kershaw, the two-time loser. \"The ones you see on Earth knock your eyes out, but they've already begun to die. There's nothing like a fresh one. And I'm not the first to go crazy over them. When I was reconverted and got home I had nine thousand dollars waiting for me. That'll buy a two-year-old egg that flashes maybe four times a day. So I stole a new one and got caught.\"\n \n Asa had held a Slider egg in his hand as he gazed into it. He could understand. The shell was clear as crystal, taut but elastic, while the albumen was just as clear around the sparkling network of organic filaments that served as a yolk. Along these interior threads played tiny flashes of lightning, part of some unexplained process of life. Electrical instruments picked up static discharges from the egg, but the phenomenon remained a mystery.\n \n Hardly anyone faced with the beauty of a Slider's egg bothered to question its workings. For a few expectant moments there would be only random, fitful gleamings, and then there would be a wild coruscation of light, dancing from one filament to the next in a frenzy of brilliance.\n \n It took about four years for a Slider egg to die. Beauty, rarity and fading value made the eggs a luxury item like nothing the world had ever seen. If Asa had found a means of keeping them alive it would have made him wealthy at the expense of the Hazeltyne monopoly.\n \n \"You know what I think?\" Kershaw asked. \"I think those flashes are the egg calling its momma. They sparkle like a million diamonds when you scoop one out of the muck, and right away a Slider always comes swooping out of nowhere at you.\"\n \n \"I've been meaning to ask you,\" Asa said. \"How do you handle the Sliders?\"\n \n Kershaw grinned.\n \n \"First you try to catch it with a rocket. If you miss you start leaping for home. All this time you're broadcasting for help, you understand. When the Slider catches you, you leap up while it buries its jaws in the mud where you were just standing. You dig your claws in its back and hang on while it rolls around in the mud. Finally, if the 'copter comes—and if they don't shoot off your head by mistake—you live to tell the tale.\"\n \n \n\n II\n \n Asa Graybar kept his normal form on Jordan's Planet just long enough to learn the discomfort of double gravity. He was told he needed another physical examination and was taken right in to a doctor. His heart was pounding to keep his blood circulating on this massive world, but the doctor had apparently learned to make allowances.\n \n \"Swallow this,\" said the doctor after making a series of tests.\n \n Asa swallowed the capsule. Two minutes later he felt himself beginning to lose consciousness.\n \n \"This is it!\" he thought in panic.\n \n He felt someone ease him back down onto a wheeled stretcher. Before consciousness faded completely he realized that no one got a chance to back out of becoming a changeling, that he was on his way to the conversion tank right now.\n \n When he finally awoke he felt well rested and very comfortable. But for a long time he was afraid to open his eyes.\n \n \"Come on, Graybar,\" said a deep, booming voice. \"Let's test our wings.\"\n \n It was not Kershaw's voice, but it had to be Kershaw. Asa opened his eyes.\n \n Everyone had seen pictures of muck men. It was different having one stand beside you. Kershaw looked much like an enormous frog except that his head was still mostly human. He was sitting on webbed feet, his lower legs bent double under huge thighs, and his trunk tilted forward so that his arms dangled to the ground. The arms were as thick around as an ordinary man's legs. The hands had become efficient scoops, with broad fingers webbed to the first joint and tipped with spade-like claws. The skin was still pinkish but had become scaly. Not a thread of hair showed anywhere on the body, not even on the head.\n \n This, Asa realized, was what he looked like himself.\n \n It would have been more bearable if the head had not retained strong traces of humanity. The nostrils flared wide and the jaws hardly emerged from the neck, but the ears were human ears and the eyes, under those horny ridges, were human eyes. Asa felt sure that the eyes could still weep.\n \n He started to walk forward and tipped over on his side. Kershaw laughed.\n \n \"Come to daddy, babykins,\" Kershaw said, holding out his hands. \"Only try hopping this time. And take it easy.\"\n \n Asa pushed himself upright with one arm and tried a small hop. Nerve and muscle coordination was perfect. He found himself leaping as high as Kershaw's head.\n \n \"That's the way,\" Kershaw said approvingly. \"Now get this on and we'll go outside.\"\n \n Asa snapped on a belt and breech cloth combination that had flaps of fabric dangling from the belt in front and behind. He followed as Kershaw pushed open a sliding door to lead the way out of the room where they had been left to revive from conversion.\n \n \n\n \n They went into a courtyard partly covered by a roof projecting from the Hazeltyne company's dome settlement. The far half of the courtyard was open to the gray drizzle that fell almost ceaselessly from the sky of Jordan's Planet and turned most of its surface into marsh and mud flats. A high wall enclosed the far portion of the courtyard. Ranged along the wall were thirty stalls for muck men.\n \n From fifty yards across the courtyard a muck man bounded over to them in two leaps. Attached to a harness across his shoulders and chest were a gun and a long knife.\n \n \"Names?\" he growled. He was a foot taller than Graybar and big everywhere in proportion.\n \n \"Kershaw. I'm back, Furston.\"\n \n \"I'm Graybar.\"\n \n \"Kershaw again? Just start in where you left off, sucker. Come on, you.\" He pointed to Asa and leaped to the open portion of the courtyard.\n \n \"Do what he says,\" Kershaw whispered to Graybar. \"He's sort of a trusty and warden and parole officer rolled into one.\"\n \n Asa was put through a series of exercises to get him used to his distorted body, to teach him how to leap and how to dig. He was shown how to operate the radio he would carry and how to fire the pencil-slim rockets of this gun. Finally he was told to eat a few berries from a native vine. He did so and immediately vomited.\n \n Furston laughed.\n \n \"That's to remind you you're still a man,\" Furston said, grinning.\n\"Everything that grows on this planet is poison. So if you got any ideas of hiding out till your term is up, forget 'em. Right here is where you eat.\"\n \n Asa turned without a word and hopped feebly away from Furston. He lifted his head to breathe deeply and saw two humans watching him from an observation tower on the roof.\n \n He leaped twenty feet into the air for a closer look.\n \n Gazing at him with repugnance, after witnessing the end of his session with Furston, were Harriet Hazeltyne and general manager Tom Dorr.\n \n The girl's presence merely puzzled Asa, but Dorr's being here worried him. Dorr had tried to get rid of him once and was now in an excellent position to make the riddance permanent.\n \n At supper that night, squatting on the ground beside a low table with the dozen other muck men operating from the dome, Asa asked what the two were doing out here.\n \n \"The girl will inherit this racket some day, won't she?\" asked one of the others. \"She wants to see what kind of suckers are making her rich.\"\n \n \"Maybe that guy Dorr brought her along to show her what a big wheel he is,\" said one of the others. \"Just hope he doesn't take over the operations.\"\n \n \n\n III\n \n Next morning Furston passed out guns, knives, radios, and pouches to carry any eggs the muck men found. He gave each man a compass and assigned the sectors to be worked during the day. Finally he called Graybar aside.\n \n \"In case you don't like it here,\" Furston said, \"you can get a week knocked off your sentence for every egg you bring in. Now get out there and work that muck.\"\n \n Furston sent Graybar and Kershaw out together so that the veteran could show Asa the ropes. Asa had already learned that the wall around the courtyard was to keep Sliders out, not muck men in. He leaped over it and hopped along after Kershaw.\n \n Feet slapping against the mud, they went about five miles from the Hazeltyne station, swimming easily across ponds too broad to jump. The mud, if not precisely as pleasant to the touch as chinchilla fur, was not at all uncomfortable, and the dripping air caressed their skins like a summer breeze back on Earth. Tiny, slippery creatures skidded and splashed out of their way. Finally Kershaw stopped. His experienced eye had seen a trail of swamp weeds crushed low into the mud.\n \n \"Keep your eyes open,\" Kershaw said. \"There's a Slider been around here lately. If you see something like an express train headed our way, start shooting.\"\n \n At each leap along the trail they peered quickly around. They saw no Sliders, but this meant little, for the beasts lived under the mud as much as on top of it.\n \n Kershaw halted again when they came to a roughly circular area some ten yards in diameter where the weeds had been torn out and lay rotting in the muck.\n \n \"We're in luck,\" he said as Asa skidded to a stop at his side. \"An egg was laid somewhere here within the last week. These places are hard to spot when the new weeds start growing.\"\n \n Kershaw took a long look around.\n \n \"No trouble in sight. We dig.\"\n \n They started at the center of the cleared area, shoveling up great gobs of mud with their hands and flinging them out of the clearing. Usually a muck man dug in a spiral out from the center, but Graybar and Kershaw dug in gradually widening semi-circles opposite each other. They had to dig four feet deep, and it was slow going until they had a pit big enough to stand in. Each handful of mud had to be squeezed gently before it was thrown away, to make sure it didn't conceal an egg. As he worked, Asa kept thinking what an inefficient system it was. Everything about the operation was wrong.\n \n \"Got it!\" Kershaw shouted. He leaped out of the pit and started wiping slime off a round object the size of a baseball. Asa jumped out to watch.\n \n \"A big one,\" Kershaw said. He held it, still smeared with traces of mud, lovingly to his cheek, and then lifted it to eye level. \"Just look at it.\"\n \n \n \n A SLIDER EGG\n \n \n \n The egg was flashing with a mad radiance, like a thousand diamonds being splintered under a brilliant sun. Static crackled in Asa's earphones and he thought of what Kershaw had said, that the scintillation of an egg was an effect of its calls to a mother Slider for help. Asa looked around.\n \n \"Jump!\" he shouted.\n \n At the edge of the clearing a segmented length of greenish black scales, some two feet thick and six feet high, had reared up out of the weeds. The top segment was almost all mouth, already opened to show row upon row of teeth. Before Asa could draw his gun the Slider lowered its head to the ground, dug two front flippers into the mud and shot forward.\n \n Asa leaped with all his strength, sailing far out of the clearing. While he was still in the air he snapped the mouthpiece of his radio down from where it was hinged over his head. As he landed he turned instantly, his gun in his hand.\n \n \"Calling the 'copter!\" he spoke rapidly into the mouthpiece. \"Kershaw and Graybar, sector eight, five miles out. Hurry!\"\n \n \"Graybar?\" asked a voice in his earphone. \"What's up?\"\n \n \"We've got an egg but a Slider wants it back.\"\n \n \"On the way.\"\n \n Asa hopped back to the clearing. Kershaw must have been bowled over by the Slider's first rush, for he was trying to hop on one leg as if the other had been broken. The egg lay flickering on top of the mud where Kershaw had dropped it. The Slider, eight flippers on each side working madly, was twisting its thirty feet of wormlike body around for another charge.\n \n Aiming hastily, Asa fired a rocket at the monster's middle segment. The rocket smashed through hard scales and exploded in a fountain of gray flesh. The Slider writhed, coating its wound in mud, and twisted toward Asa. He leaped to one side, firing from the air and missing, and saw the Slider turn toward the patch of weeds where he would land. His legs were tensed to leap again the moment he hit the mud, but he saw the Slider would be on top of him before he could escape. As he landed he thrust his gun forward almost into the mouth of the creature and fired again.\n \n \n\n \n Even as he was knocked aside into the muck, Asa's body was showered with shreds of alien flesh scattered by the rocket's explosion. Desperately pushing himself to his feet, he saw the long headless body shiver and lie still.\n \n \n\n \n Asa took a deep breath and looked around.\n \n \"Kershaw!\" he called. \"Where are you?\"\n \n \"Over here.\" Kershaw stood briefly above the weeds and fell back again. Asa leaped over to him.\n \n \"Thanks,\" Kershaw said. \"Muck men stick together. You'll make a good one. I wouldn't have had a chance. My leg's busted.\"\n \n \"The helicopter ought to be here pretty soon,\" Asa said. He looked over at the dead Slider and shook his head. \"Tell me, what are the odds on getting killed doing this?\"\n \n \"Last time I was here there was about one mucker killed for every six eggs brought out. Of course you're not supposed to stand there admiring the eggs like I did while a Slider comes up on you.\"\n \n Asa hopped over to the egg, which was still full of a dancing radiance where it rested on the mud. He scooped a hole in the muck and buried the egg.\n \n \"Just in case there are any more Sliders around,\" he explained.\n \n \"Makes no difference,\" said Kershaw, pointing upward. \"Here comes the\n'copter, late as usual.\"\n \n The big machine circled them, hovered to inspect the dead Slider, and settled down on broad skids. Through the transparent nose Asa could see Tom Dorr and Harriet Hazeltyne. The company manager swung the door open and leaned out.\n \n \"I see you took care of the Slider,\" he said. \"Hand over the egg.\"\n \n \"Kershaw has a broken leg,\" Asa said. \"I'll help him in and then I'll get the egg.\"\n \n While Kershaw grabbed the door frame to help pull himself into the helicopter, Asa got under his companion's belly and lifted him by the waist. He hadn't realized before just how strong his new body was. Kershaw, as a muck man, would have weighed close to three hundred pounds on Earth, close to six hundred here.\n \n Dorr made no move to help, but the girl reached under Kershaw's shoulder and strained to get him in. Once he was inside, Asa saw, the cabin was crowded.\n \n \"Are you going to have room for me too?\" he asked.\n \n \"Not this trip,\" Dorr answered. \"Now give me the egg.\"\n \n Asa didn't hesitate. \"The egg stays with me,\" he said softly.\n \n \"You do what I tell you, mucker,\" said Dorr.\n \n \"Nope. I want to make sure you come back.\" Asa turned his head to Harriet. \"You see, Miss Hazeltyne, I don't trust your friend. You might ask him to tell you about it.\"\n \n Dorr stared at him with narrowed eyes. Suddenly he smiled in a way that worried Asa.\n \n \"Whatever you say, Graybar,\" Dorr said. He turned to the controls. In another minute the helicopter was in the sky.\n \n \n\n \n A round trip for the helicopter should have taken no more than twenty minutes, allowing time for Kershaw to be taken out at the settlement.\n \n After an hour passed Asa began to worry. He was sure Dorr would return for the egg. Finally he realized that Dorr could locate the egg approximately by the body of the dead Slider. Dorr could return for the egg any time with some other muck man to dig for it.\n \n Asa pulled down the mouthpiece of his radio.\n \n \"This is Graybar, calling the helicopter,\" he said. \"When are you coming?\"\n \n There was no answer except the hum of carrier wave.\n \n If he tried to carry the egg back, Asa knew, Sliders would attack him all along the way. A man had no chance of getting five miles with an egg by himself. He could leave the egg here, of course. Even so he would be lucky if he got back, following a hazy compass course from which he and Kershaw had certainly deviated on their outward trip. There were no landmarks in this wilderness of bog to help him find his way. The workers were supposed to home in on radio signals, if they lost their bearings, but Dorr would deny him that help.\n \n What was the night like on Jordan's Planet? Maybe Sliders slept at night. If he could stay awake, and if he didn't faint from hunger in this strange new body, and if the Sliders left him alone....\n \n A whirring noise made Asa jump in alarm.\n \n Then he smiled in relief, for it was the helicopter, the blessed helicopter, coming in over the swamp. But what if it was Dorr, coming back alone to dispose of him without any witnesses? Asa leaped for the carcass of the dead Slider and took shelter behind it.\n \n No machine-gun blast of rockets came from the helicopter. The big machine swooped low dizzily, tilted back in an inexpert attempt to hover, thumped down upon the mud and slid forward. As Asa jumped aside, the landing skids caught against the Slider's body and the helicopter flipped forward on its nose, one of the rotor blades plunging deep into the mud.\n \n Asa leaped forward in consternation. Not only was his chance of safe passage back to the settlement wrecked, but now he would have the extra burden of taking care of the pilot. When he reached the nose of the helicopter he saw that the pilot, untangling herself from the controls to get up, was Harriet Hazeltyne.\n \n \n\n IV\n \n \"Are you hurt?\" Asa asked her. She reached for his shoulder to steady herself as she climbed out of the machine.\n \n \"I guess not,\" she said. \"But taking a fall in this gravity is no fun. From the way my face feels I ought to be getting a black eye pretty soon.\"\n \n \"What happened?\"\n \n \"I made a fool of myself.\" She made a face back in the direction of the settlement. \"Dorr wasn't going to come after you. He said anyone who talked back to him should try arguing with the Sliders.\"\n \n She looked up at the machine-gun on the helicopter.\n \n \"They feed at night, you know. And they eat their own kind,\" she said.\n\"The Slider you killed would draw them like ants to jam.\"\n \n Asa glanced around quickly to make sure no Sliders had already come. He eyed the helicopter with distaste at the thought of what a flimsy fort it would make.\n \n \"Anyway,\" Harriet said, \"I told him he couldn't just leave you here and we started arguing. I lost my temper. He thought he had brought me to Jordan's Planet on a fancy tour. I told him the real reason I was here was to check up for my father on the way he was running things and there seemed to be a lot wrong. So he told me very politely I could run things to suit myself and he walked off.\"\n \n She shrugged, as if to indicate that she had made a mess of things.\n \n \"And you took the helicopter by yourself,\" Asa said, as if he could hardly believe it yet.\n \n \"Oh, back on Earth I can make a helicopter do stunts. But I wasn't used to this gravity. I don't suppose you could make this machine stand up straight?\"\n \n Asa tugged at the body of the Slider until he got it off the skids of the plane. He pulled with all his strength at the rotor blade sunk in the mud, but the weight of the helicopter was upon it and the mud held it with a suction of its own. After a few minutes he had to give up.\n \n \"We fight off the Sliders, then,\" she said, as matter of factly as if that problem was settled. \"If it's any comfort, I know how to handle the machine-gun.\"\n \n \"Nope. In this drizzle, at night, the Sliders would be on us before we could see them. We've got to try to get back.\" He stood in thought while she stared at him patiently. \"What happened to the other muck men who went out today?\" he asked.\n \n \"They were called in when the 'copter came out the first time. Some of them may not have got back yet.\"", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "10", "uid": "ae7b3f80b0e74b22abf9e6841729ba0b", "response_text": "Asa Graybar is a biological engineer who studies keeping Slider eggs alive and he is accused of a crime at the opening of the story. He thinks he was framed by Tom Dorr, Hazeltyne’s general manager.\nHe was offered one year as a “changeling” on another planet or 5 years in rehabilitation on Earth. He elects to do the one year, and thinks that he will get into smuggling Slider eggs on Jordan’s planet. Being a changeling is not a highly sought after line of work, but it pays well, and the people who do it have organs and body parts regenerated to better suit specialized tasks.\nAsa travels to Jordan’s planet on a spaceship with a cellmate, Kershaw, who got caught stealing a Slider egg and is returning to serve more time. When they arrive they are both “converted” into muck men, with the forms of frogs and scaly, pink skin. Their task is to collect Slider eggs and bring them back to the base which is watched over by a warden, Furston.\nAsa and Kershaw go out together for the first time into the mud so Kershaw can teach Asa how to find Slider eggs. They find one, and are immediately attacked by a Slider that disables one of Kershaw’s legs. Kershaw calls for helicopters to come get them. Tom Dorr is operating the helicopter that comes to collect Kershaw in the field, and demands that Asa also give him the egg they found. Asa refuses to ensure his own safety that they would come back to get him as soon as they dropped off Kershaw.\nBack at the base Tom Dorr refuses to go back into the field to rescue Asa and gets into an argument with Harriet Hazeltyne (taking over charge of all operations for her father), and storms off. Harriet goes into the field to save Asa herself, but accidentally crashes the helicopter because she is not used to the double force of gravity. \nAsa is unable to right the helicopter, and they think it is unlikely they will be able to use its machine guns to keep them safe while the Sliders come to feed on the dead Slider they are near to in the night. They must get back to the base somehow, and the story ends with them contemplating how they might do this.\n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "0e8792aec84f492983a858ecf4a2c40d", "response_text": "Asa Graybar is a biological engineer researching Slider eggs and was set up to be convicted of trying to steal one, most likely by Tom Dorr, the Hazeltyne company’s general manager. Asa can serve five years in a rehabilitation clinic or one year working as a changeling on another planet. Asa chooses to work one year as a muck man on Jordan’s Planet where the Slider eggs are harvested. Medical advancements allow doctors to adapt humans to work in the environments of the other planets, so Asa will have to undergo the change, making him a changeling. \n\tAsa travels to Jordan on a freighter but is kept locked up as a prisoner. His cellmate is Kershaw, a man who has worked as a muck man in the past. He loved Slider eggs so much that when he returned to Earth, he tried to steal a new one because they flashed so much more than the two-year-old egg that he could afford with his $9000 in earnings. Kershaw tells Asa that he thinks the slider egg flashes are the egg calling their mothers and explains how they handle the Sliders that attack when muck men remove an egg from the mud. \n\tOn Jordan, Asa has second thoughts but realizes that there is no turning back on becoming a changeling. Awakening after his transformation, Asa finds Kershaw waiting for him, and he helps Asa learn to hop rather than walk since they have the physical features of frogs now. Furston, the trusty/warden/parole officer, sends Kershaw to work and Asa for training. He also gives Asa some berries to eat that make him vomit; Furston tells him this is to make the point that everything that grows on the planet is poisonous, and Asa shouldn’t get the idea that he can hide out until his term is up because he would starve to death. As he leaves, Asa sees two humans watching him from an observation tower and hops up to see who they are: Harriet Hazeltyne and Tom Dorr. \n\tFurston has Kershaw take Asa out to show him the ropes. Kershaw finds an egg, and Asa warns him to jump when he sees a Slider coming. Kershaw breaks a leg, and Asa manages to kill the Slider. When the helicopter arrives, Harriet and Tom Dorr are aboard. Asa refuses to give them the egg until he loads Kershaw. Then Dorr says there isn’t room for Asa, and they will come back for him. Asa keeps the egg as insurance for them to return but later realizes that Dorr can come back later with another mucker.\n\tFinally, the helicopter returns, but it crashes. Harriet was flying it because Dorr refused to come back for Asa. She tells Asa that a dead Slider attracts other Sliders that will feed on it. Asa tries to upright the helicopter but can’t, so they either have to stay and fight off the Sliders or try to make their way back to the facility.\n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "1db23050872f4a97b87d352096e8dfd0", "response_text": "At the start of the story, Asa Graybar has been convicted of a crime he believes he has been framed for: keeping a rare, fresh Slider egg in a lab. His options for punishment are five years in a \"social reorientation\" program or one year working on a different planet after modifying his body to function in a different environment. Asa's cellmate seems to think this is the much more dangerous option, but it's the one Asa chooses. The technology of the time allows for regeneration of cells, extending people's lives and allowing them to modify their anatomy to fit a different environment. Asa wants to go to Jordan's Planet specifically, and there is always need for workers there because it is dangerous, so he is able to get a post there. Kershaw, another convict, is on the same trip--he has done this work before. The two men are most interested in the eggs of a creature called a Slider. The eggs have beautiful clear shells and seem to discharge lightning, in a way the humans do not yet understand--being muck men on Jordan's Planet means hunting for these eggs. The eggs die over the course of four years, and Asa wants to find a way to preserve them--this would be a hit to the Hazeltyne monopoly, which Asa believes is the source of his being framed. After arriving on Jordan's Planet, Asa and Kershaw head to the conversion tanks and their bodies are modified to suit the planet. The result is frog-like with pinkish scaly skin and a pair of wings. Asa learns he has to hop instead of walk, and Kershaw gives him pointers as they head to meet Furston, the man who would assign them their jobs. Hazeltyne's daughter (Harriet) and general manager (Tom Dorr), who had been present at Asa's trial, watched as Asa trained--it seems Asa's not the only one who dislikes Dorr. Asa is given supplies to go on a muck trip with Kershaw so that he does not go on his first trip solo. Once they find a safe location, they start to dig for eggs, and Kershaw finds one. As it flashes, the mother Slider starts to run towards the men who run for their lives and call the rescue helicopter. Kershaw manages to drop the egg, and the two men fight under attack by the Slider. Asa recovers the egg as the helicopter arrives with Tom Dorr and Harriet inside, and Asa is worried by Dorr's demeanor. There is only space for one of the men in the helicopter but Asa seems to have been abandoned as he waits for the return. It turns out Dorr didn't think it was worth going back for Asa because he talked back to him. Eventually Harriet Hazeltyne makes it to him, but she crashes the helicopter because although she is a great pilot on Earth, she is not used to the gravity on this planet. "}, {"worker_id": "9", "uid": "bc76d5e3a98a4f06b92b39de0ed2ff5b", "response_text": "Asa Graybar is convicted of stealing a slider egg from Hazeltyne Company. He believes he has been framed by Tom Dorr, Hazeltyne’s general manager, who has brought the owner’s daughter Harriet to the courtroom. Asa is given his choice of two sentences; rather than a relatively comfortable five years in a rehab clinic, Asa opts for a year as a changeling so that he can go to Jordan’s Planet and study slider eggs. He believes his work with eggs prompted the Hazeltyne Company to frame him.\n\nAsa chooses to go to Jordan’s Planet, where the eggs come from. On his way there, he meets Kershaw, a repeat muck man infatuated with the eggs.  Both men are turned into muck men: large, mutated creatures with some oddly unsettling human facial features. Humans have discovered how to prolong life and regenerate organs, which has also led to the changeling process, where convicts can be physiologically altered to be suited for life on other planets. \n\nAsa is trained to use his new body and reckon with the double gravity on the planet. The next day, Kershaw shows Asa the ropes until Kershaw finds an egg. His appreciation of it clouds his judgement, and Asa realizes just in time that Kershaw warned him that the sliders typically attack when the eggs are removed. A slider injures Kershaw’s leg, and Asa jumps out of the way and calls for help before killing the slider in the nick of time. \n\nWhen a helicopter arrives, Tom Dorr and Harriet are in it. Asa insists that they should take the injured Kershaw and he should stay with the egg, since they both won’t fit in the helicopter. Dorr demands that Asa give him the egg, but Asa refuses. The helicopter leaves Asa alone with the egg. \n\nAsa starts to get worried when the helicopter hasn’t returned an hour later, and hopes the sliders don’t attack at night. The helicopter comes back, but it lands clumsily and sticks in the mud. Harriet explains that she is a skilled pilot, but not in this gravity. She also details how she and Dorr argued because he wanted to leave Asa there and let the sliders (who do feed at night, on their own kind like the dead one near Asa) have at him. She told Dorr that she didn’t like how he was running her father’s business, and he told her to run it and stormed off. \n\nAs the passage ends, Asa and Harriet are in the midst of a dicey situation. He can’t lift the helicopter up, and he doesn’t think they’d have a chance of fighting off the sliders in the rain - they’ll have to try to make their way back. He asks Harriet where the rest of the muck men are, and she says they were all called back when the first helicopter came out, but that some may not be back yet. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What settings does the story take place in?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "10", "uid": "ae7b3f80b0e74b22abf9e6841729ba0b", "response_text": "The story opens on Earth and then travels to Jordan’s planet.\nJordan’s planet is the place where Asa goes as a changeling to be a muck man. \nThere is a base on Jordan's planet which has a laboratory for converting prisoners into muck men, living quarters and kitchen, and a courtyard with high walls to keep the Sliders out. The surface of the planet is mud and the force of gravity is twice that on Earth. Asa's conversion into a frog-like person is necessary to survive there.\n\n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "0e8792aec84f492983a858ecf4a2c40d", "response_text": "The story takes place in the future when humans have traveled to the stars, and medical advancements have enabled humans to regenerate damaged or deficient organs, enabling them to live until about two hundred years of age. The events in the story take place in several locations. It all begins on Earth in a courtroom where Asa Graybar has just been found guilty. From there, Asa is taken down a corridor to his jail cell, which is very small because it only takes Asa four steps to reach the other side. Once Asa decides to become a changeling and work as a muck man on Jordan’s Planet, he ships to the planet on a space freighter where he is kept in a cell for the entire trip but can hear voices in the corridor. \n\tWhen they reach Jordan’s Planet, Asa experiences the discomfort of the double gravity that makes his heart pound to keep his blood circulating. After his conversion to a changeling, Asa goes outside the company’s dome settlement with Kershaw. There was a constant gray drizzle, and most of the planet’s surface was marsh, mud flats, and ponds. On the roof of the settlement building, there is an observation tower. Muck men eat at tables that are low enough to accommodate their froglike physiology. Out in the mud where the muck men work, there are small, slippery creatures. There were also large, segmented creatures called Sliders who lay the eggs that the muck men harvest and attack them when they take an egg. \n\n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "1db23050872f4a97b87d352096e8dfd0", "response_text": "This story takes place on two separate planets, and the ship that the protagonist takes to travel between the two. The first is Earth, where Asa Graybar is convicted of a crime he did not commit. We see small pieces of the courtroom and prison that Asa visits for some time, but the focus is on the second planet. Jordan's Planet, a planet covered in mud and swamp creatures, has gravity twice as strong as that of Earth. Humans have a hard time dealing with the extra gravity and the mud, so those that stay to do work on the planet undergo medical procedures to make them more like giant frogs to allow them to swim through patches of mud that are too big to jump over. Jordan's Planet is significant because of the animals that live there, more specifically the Sliders and the eggs that they lay. These eggs have great value on Earth, so Hazeltyne, a tycoon on Earth, has built a settlement on Jordan's Planet as a place to train convicts working to recover the eggs for his own personal gain. "}, {"worker_id": "9", "uid": "bc76d5e3a98a4f06b92b39de0ed2ff5b", "response_text": "The story takes place in a courtroom on Earth, a jail cell, an unspecified room where a medical exam takes place, a transport ship, and several locations on Jordan’s Planet. On Jordan’s Planet, the story moves from the medical office where the changeling conversions happen, a walled and partially covered courtyard where Asa does his training that houses multiple muck man-sized stalls, an office where Dorr and Harriet and the human higher ups work, and the muddy swamps where the muck men search for eggs. Jordan’s Planet is muddy and treacherous, with double gravity. The story is set at an unspecified time in the future, when interplanetary travel and extreme biological mutations are commonplace and human lifespans average two-hundred years. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What happens to Tom Dorr in the story?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "10", "uid": "ae7b3f80b0e74b22abf9e6841729ba0b", "response_text": "Asa thinks Tom framed him for the crime at the opening of the story. Tom is present on Jordan’s planet when Asa arrives to begin his one year term as a muck man. \nTom is providing a tour of Jordan’s planet to Harriet Hazeltyne, who is taking over her father’s operations and wants to investigate how Toms is running things. Tom and Harriet get into an argument on Jordan’s planet and Tom leaves in anger. It is unclear what his final fate is after leaving, though it is likely he will be removed from his post.\n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "0e8792aec84f492983a858ecf4a2c40d", "response_text": "Tom Dorr is the general manager of the Hazeltyne company. He is thought to be responsible for Asa Graybar’s arrest and conviction for theft of a Slider egg by planting an egg in Asa’s lab. Dorr travels to Jordan’s Planet with Harriet Hazeltyne; he thinks she is there for a tour, but she is really there on behalf of her father to see how Dorr is running the company’s settlement on the planet because it seemed that things were not in order. Dorr flies the helicopter to pick up Asa and Kershaw when the Slider attacks them, but Dorr tells Asa there isn’t room for him on that trip. Dorr then refuses to go back to pick up Asa, which leads to an argument with Harriet. When she tells him the real reason she is there, he quits his job, telling her that she can run things to suit herself.\n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "1db23050872f4a97b87d352096e8dfd0", "response_text": "Tim Dorr is present at Asa's trial at the beginning of the story, and Asa thinks that he is responsible for framing him for a crime he did not commit. We do not see him again until Asa is on Jordan's Planet, performing a number of exercises to acclimate him to the new environment and his new body. He is in the helicopter that arrives to rescue Kershaw and Asa when they are attacked while recovering an egg but makes no effort to help them into the helicopter and demands to take the egg from them, but when Asa refuses, Dorr heads back to the settlement with Kershaw and doesn't come back for Asa as he should; it is up to Harriet to decide Asa was worth retrieving. "}, {"worker_id": "9", "uid": "bc76d5e3a98a4f06b92b39de0ed2ff5b", "response_text": "Tom Dorr is the general manager and right hand man to the leader of the Hazeltyne company. Asa believes that Dorr framed him due to his work with slider egg lifespans. Asa sees him escorting Harriet Hazeltyne at his trial, and then encounters them again on Jordan Planet after he becomes a muck man. Dorr is flying the helicopter that comes to retrieve Asa and Kershaw and the egg, and has brought Harriet along. Dorr asks for the egg but Asa insists on lifting the injured Kershaw into the helicopter first. Realizing that he won’t fit in there with them, Asa says he’ll hold onto the egg. Dorr tells him to do as he’s told, but Asa tells Harriet that he doesn’t trust Dorr to come back for him and suggests she ask him why. They take off, and Dorr tells Harriet that he won’t go back for Asa and will instead let him try his luck with the sliders. He and Harriet argue about this and the fact that he thought Harriet was there to get a grand tour from him while she said that she was there to check up on how he was running things for her father, and that she was unimpressed by what she saw. Dorr tells her she should run it herself, and walks off. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the relationship like between Asa and Kershaw?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "10", "uid": "ae7b3f80b0e74b22abf9e6841729ba0b", "response_text": "They meet as cellmates on their way to Jordan’s planet to convert to muck men. They convert into frog-like forms together. Kershaw is assigned to pick up where he left off as a return prisoner and Asa is taught how to operate in his new body.\nKershaw teaches Asa the ropes of how to collect slider eggs as a muck man. One muck man is killed for about every 6 Slider eggs that are found, and it is extremely dangerous. During their first time out they have to fight a Slider and Kershaw breaks his leg, relying on Asa to save him. This task bonds them together as they must trust each other with their lives.\n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "0e8792aec84f492983a858ecf4a2c40d", "response_text": "Asa and Kershaw have a friendly relationship. When they are in a cell together on the flight to Jordan’s Planet, Kershaw tells Asa what it is like to work there because he has worked there before. He is going back because he was caught stealing a new Slider egg that he couldn’t resist because it was so beautiful. Kershaw tells Asa his theory that the flashes of the eggs are the eggs calling to their mothers because when muck men take one out of the muck, a Slider always comes right away. Kershaw helps Asa learn how to hop after Kershaw’s transformation, and he gives him helpful advice about doing what Furston says. Kershaw also teaches Asa how to recognize when Sliders have been in an area recently and when an egg has recently been laid. When Kershaw finds the egg, Asa saves him by yelling for him to jump and then shooting the Slider and radioing for the helicopter. When the aircraft arrives, Asa carries Kershaw and puts him on board.\n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "1db23050872f4a97b87d352096e8dfd0", "response_text": "Asa and Kershaw are both convicted criminals with an interest in Slider eggs, though Asa believes he has been framed. The two of them meet because they are on the same transport to Jordan's Planet, reporting for a year of service as muck men to avoid five years of rehabilitation. Kershaw has been to Jordan's Planet before, so he becomes a mentor to Asa and gives him tips on who the various figureheads are at the settlement, and on how to do the job safely. The two of them go on a mission together once they arrive so that Asa can learn the ropes. Asa supports Kershaw as they are attacked by a Slider after Kershaw is injured. Kershaw believes in the mantra that muck men stick together and look out for each other and this allowed the men to warm up to each other very quickly, and the way the story is set up it seems they will be close friends as their story continues.\n"}, {"worker_id": "9", "uid": "bc76d5e3a98a4f06b92b39de0ed2ff5b", "response_text": "Asa and Kershaw have a friendly relationship. Asa empathizes with Kershaw’s obsession with the eggs, and Kershaw serves as a mentor to Asa since he has already done time as a muck man on Jordan Planet. Kershaw is glad to have not only tips and training from Kershaw, but insight into the eggs themselves, which Kershaw loves and Asa is determined to study and learn more about. Their relationship is relatively jovial, especially considering their circumstances, and they look out for each other. After Kershaw finds the egg and is injured by the slider, he is grateful to Asa for saving his life and Asa is protective of him, insisting that Kershaw get into the helicopter first. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the significance of the egg to the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "10", "uid": "ae7b3f80b0e74b22abf9e6841729ba0b", "response_text": "The Slider egg is a captivating object that has a clear shell, and light of various colors flash inside it. They are laid by Sliders on Jordan’s planet and are collected by prisoners that are stationed there. The eggs only live for about 4 years, which makes them in demand. If they could be stabilized to live longer they would be even more valuable.\nTheir use is never discussed and the people in the story do not reveal why they are so valuable. Asa is working on a method to keep the eggs alive for longer at the opening of the story, but does not continue in that task during the plot.\n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "0e8792aec84f492983a858ecf4a2c40d", "response_text": "\n\tThe Slider egg is a thing of such beauty that the Hazeltyne company that harvests and sells it is one of the most valuable franchises of all the planets. The eggs have a crystal clear shell and albumen, and the yolk is a sparkling network of filaments that flash like lightning. The eggs live for about four years, and their rarity and fading value makes them a luxury item.  The supposed theft of one of these eggs led to the arrest and conviction of Asa Graybar, a biological engineer with the company. Kershaw describes them as sparkling like a million diamonds when they are first pulled out of the mud, and even after spending a year as a muck man, he risks arrest again when he steals a new one that he can’t resist. For his sentence, he chooses to become a muck man again, even though the work is extremely dangerous. The eggs are so valuable as to justify the expense of building a settlement on Jordan’s Planet to harvest them.  \n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "1db23050872f4a97b87d352096e8dfd0", "response_text": "The events of the story are centered around Slider eggs. Sliders are creatures that live in the swamps on Jordan's Planet that have eight flippers on each side of their bodies, and are very protective of their eggs. They feed at nighttime, and consume members of their own species. In contrast, the eggs themselves are like magnificent works of art, with crystal clear shells and yolks that seem to emit electricity. These flashes of light start as the eggs are pulled out of the mud by the humans, and some suspect it is a way for the egg to signal to its mother that it is being handled by someone else. It is the flashes that seem to trigger the Slider attacks that often kill muck men working on the surface. Kershaw's time on Jordan's Planet made him obsessed with these eggs, and drove him to come back after he tried to steal one again. They die over the course of four years and Asa's goal is to find a way to preserve them, so he wants to study them at their source. The reason he is headed to Jordan's Planet is because he was accused (and convicted, though he believes he was framed) of hiding an egg in a lab. These eggs are also the key to the monopoly that Hazeltyne has, as a tycoon on Earth.   "}, {"worker_id": "9", "uid": "bc76d5e3a98a4f06b92b39de0ed2ff5b", "response_text": "The egg is very significant to the story, as Asa was framed and convicted in the first place for his work with the eggs, his decision to undergo changeling conversion is centered around studying the eggs, and his new situation on Jordan Planet is centered around the collecting of slider eggs. Additionally, the eggs are what draw Kershaw into the story, as he was taken in by their allure during his last stint as a muck man, and got arrested again for stealing an egg. The eggs are also the source of wealth for the Hazeltyne Company. The first image the story gives us is a slider egg glittering in Harriet Hazeltyne’s hair. \n"}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "61285", "uid": "f8162edda8394d38a5d474ea7fe45079", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "THE DESERT AND THE STARS\n \n\n BY KEITH LAUMER\n \n\n The Aga Kaga wanted peace—a piece of everything in sight!\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, November 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n \n \"I'm not at all sure,\" Under-Secretary Sternwheeler said, \"that I fully understand the necessity for your ... ah ... absenting yourself from your post of duty, Mr. Retief. Surely this matter could have been dealt with in the usual way—assuming any action is necessary.\"\n \n \"I had a sharp attack of writer's cramp, Mr. Secretary,\" Retief said.\n\"So I thought I'd better come along in person—just to be sure I was positive of making my point.\"\n \n \"Eh?\"\n \n \"Why, ah, there were a number of dispatches,\" Deputy Under-Secretary Magnan put in. \"Unfortunately, this being end-of-the-fiscal-year time, we found ourselves quite inundated with reports. Reports, reports, reports—\"\n \n \"Not criticizing the reporting system, are you, Mr. Magnan?\" the Under-Secretary barked.\n \n \"Gracious, no,\" Magnan said. \"I love reports.\"\n \n \"It seems nobody's told the Aga Kagans about fiscal years,\" Retief said. \"They're going right ahead with their program of land-grabbing on Flamme. So far, I've persuaded the Boyars that this is a matter for the Corps, and not to take matters into their own hands.\"\n \n The Under-Secretary nodded. \"Quite right. Carry on along the same lines. Now, if there's nothing further—\"\n \n \"Thank you, Mr. Secretary,\" Magnan said, rising. \"We certainly appreciate your guidance.\"\n \n \"There is a little something further,\" said Retief, sitting solidly in his chair. \"What's the Corps going to do about the Aga Kagans?\"\n \n The Under-Secretary turned a liverish eye on Retief. \"As Minister to Flamme, you should know that the function of a diplomatic representative is merely to ... what shall I say...?\"\n \n \"String them along?\" Magnan suggested.\n \n \"An unfortunate choice of phrase,\" the Under-Secretary said. \"However, it embodies certain realities of Galactic politics. The Corps must concern itself with matters of broad policy.\"\n \n \"Sixty years ago the Corps was encouraging the Boyars to settle Flamme,\" Retief said. \"They were assured of Corps support.\"\n \n \"I don't believe you'll find that in writing,\" said the Under-Secretary blandly. \"In any event, that was sixty years ago. At that time a foothold against Neo-Concordiatist elements was deemed desirable. Now the situation has changed.\"\n \n \"The Boyars have spent sixty years terraforming Flamme,\" Retief said.\n\"They've cleared jungle, descummed the seas, irrigated deserts, set out forests. They've just about reached the point where they can begin to enjoy it. The Aga Kagans have picked this as a good time to move in. They've landed thirty detachments of 'fishermen'—complete with armored trawlers mounting 40 mm infinite repeaters—and another two dozen parties of 'homesteaders'—all male and toting rocket launchers.\"\n \n \"Surely there's land enough on the world to afford space to both groups,\" the Under-Secretary said. \"A spirit of co-operation—\"\n \n \n\n \n \"The Boyars needed some co-operation sixty years ago,\" Retief said.\n\"They tried to get the Aga Kagans to join in and help them beat back some of the saurian wild life that liked to graze on people. The Corps didn't like the idea. They wanted to see an undisputed anti-Concordiatist enclave. The Aga Kagans didn't want to play, either. But now that the world is tamed, they're moving in.\"\n \n \"The exigencies of diplomacy require a flexible policy—\"\n \n \"I want a firm assurance of Corps support to take back to Flamme,\" Retief said. \"The Boyars are a little naive. They don't understand diplomatic triple-speak. They just want to hold onto the homes they've made out of a wasteland.\"\n \n \"I'm warning you, Retief!\" the Under-Secretary snapped, leaning forward, wattles quivering. \"Corps policy with regard to Flamme includes no inflammatory actions based on outmoded concepts. The Boyars will have to accommodate themselves to the situation!\"\n \n \"That's what I'm afraid of,\" Retief said. \"They're not going to sit still and watch it happen. If I don't take back concrete evidence of Corps backing, we're going to have a nice hot little shooting war on our hands.\"\n \n The Under-Secretary pushed out his lips and drummed his fingers on the desk.\n \n \"Confounded hot-heads,\" he muttered. \"Very well, Retief. I'll go along to the extent of a Note; but positively no further.\"\n \n \"A Note? I was thinking of something more like a squadron of Corps Peace Enforcers running through a few routine maneuvers off Flamme.\"\n \n \"Out of the question. A stiffly worded Protest Note is the best I can do. That's final.\"\n \n Back in the corridor, Magnan turned to Retief. \"When will you learn not to argue with Under-Secretaries? One would think you actively disliked the idea of ever receiving a promotion. I was astonished at the Under-Secretary's restraint. Frankly, I was stunned when he actually agreed to a Note. I, of course, will have to draft it.\" Magnan pulled at his lower lip thoughtfully. \"Now, I wonder, should I view with deep concern an act of open aggression, or merely point out an apparent violation of technicalities....\"\n \n \"Don't bother,\" Retief said. \"I have a draft all ready to go.\"\n \n \"But how—?\"\n \n \"I had a feeling I'd get paper instead of action,\" Retief said. \"I thought I'd save a little time all around.\"\n \n \"At times, your cynicism borders on impudence.\"\n \n \"At other times, it borders on disgust. Now, if you'll run the Note through for signature, I'll try to catch the six o'clock shuttle.\"\n \n \"Leaving so soon? There's an important reception tonight. Some of our biggest names will be there. An excellent opportunity for you to join in the diplomatic give-and-take.\"\n \n \"No, thanks. I want to get back to Flamme and join in something mild, like a dinosaur hunt.\"\n \n \"When you get there,\" said Magnan, \"I hope you'll make it quite clear that this matter is to be settled without violence.\"\n \n \"Don't worry. I'll keep the peace, if I have to start a war to do it.\"\n \n \n\n \n On the broad verandah at Government House, Retief settled himself comfortably in a lounge chair. He accepted a tall glass from a white-jacketed waiter and regarded the flamboyant Flamme sunset, a gorgeous blaze of vermillion and purple that reflected from a still lake, tinged the broad lawn with color, silhouetted tall poplars among flower beds.\n \n \"You've done great things here in sixty years, Georges,\" said Retief.\n\"Not that natural geological processes wouldn't have produced the same results, given a couple of hundred million years.\"\n \n \"Don't belabor the point,\" the Boyar Chef d'Regime said. \"Since we seem to be on the verge of losing it.\"\n \n \"You're forgetting the Note.\"\n \n \"A Note,\" Georges said, waving his cigar. \"What the purple polluted hell is a Note supposed to do? I've got Aga Kagan claim-jumpers camped in the middle of what used to be a fine stand of barley, cooking sheep's brains over dung fires not ten miles from Government House—and upwind at that.\"\n \n \"Say, if that's the same barley you distill your whiskey from, I'd call that a first-class atrocity.\"\n \n \"Retief, on your say-so, I've kept my boys on a short leash. They've put up with plenty. Last week, while you were away, these barbarians sailed that flotilla of armor-plated junks right through the middle of one of our best oyster breeding beds. It was all I could do to keep a bunch of our men from going out in private helis and blasting 'em out of the water.\"\n \n \"That wouldn't have been good for the oysters, either.\"\n \n \"That's what I told 'em. I also said you'd be back here in a few days with something from Corps HQ. When I tell 'em all we've got is a piece of paper, that'll be the end. There's a strong vigilante organization here that's been outfitting for the last four weeks. If I hadn't held them back with assurances that the CDT would step in and take care of this invasion, they would have hit them before now.\"\n \n \n\n \n \"That would have been a mistake,\" said Retief. \"The Aga Kagans are tough customers. They're active on half a dozen worlds at the moment. They've been building up for this push for the last five years. A show of resistance by you Boyars without Corps backing would be an invitation to slaughter—with the excuse that you started it.\"\n \n \"So what are we going to do? Sit here and watch these goat-herders take over our farms and fisheries?\"\n \n \"Those goat-herders aren't all they seem. They've got a first-class modern navy.\"\n \n \"I've seen 'em. They camp in goat-skin tents, gallop around on animal-back, wear dresses down to their ankles—\"\n \n \"The 'goat-skin' tents are a high-polymer plastic, made in the same factory that turns out those long flowing bullet-proof robes you mention. The animals are just for show. Back home they use helis and ground cars of the most modern design.\"\n \n The Chef d'Regime chewed his cigar.\n \n \"Why the masquerade?\"\n \n \"Something to do with internal policies, I suppose.\"\n \n \"So we sit tight and watch 'em take our world away from us. That's what I get for playing along with you, Retief. We should have clobbered these monkeys as soon as they set foot on our world.\"\n \n \"Slow down, I haven't finished yet. There's still the Note.\"\n \n \"I've got plenty of paper already. Rolls and rolls of it.\"\n \n \"Give diplomatic processes a chance,\" said Retief. \"The Note hasn't even been delivered yet. Who knows? We may get surprising results.\"\n \n \"If you expect me to supply a runner for the purpose, you're out of luck. From what I hear, he's likely to come back with his ears stuffed in his hip pocket.\"\n \n \"I'll deliver the Note personally,\" Retief said. \"I could use a couple of escorts—preferably strong-arm lads.\"\n \n The Chef d'Regime frowned, blew out a cloud of smoke. \"I wasn't kidding about these Aga Kagans,\" he said. \"I hear they have some nasty habits. I don't want to see you operated on with the same knives they use to skin out the goats.\"\n \n \"I'd be against that myself. Still, the mail must go through.\"\n \n \"Strong-arm lads, eh? What have you got in mind, Retief?\"\n \n \"A little muscle in the background is an old diplomatic custom,\" Retief said.\n \n The Chef d'Regime stubbed out his cigar thoughtfully. \"I used to be a pretty fair elbow-wrestler myself,\" he said. \"Suppose I go along...?\"\n \n \"That,\" said Retief, \"should lend just the right note of solidarity to our little delegation.\" He hitched his chair closer. \"Now, depending on what we run into, here's how we'll play it....\"\n \n \n\n II\n \n Eight miles into the rolling granite hills west of the capital, a black-painted official air-car flying the twin flags of Chief of State and Terrestrial Minister skimmed along a foot above a pot-holed road. Slumped in the padded seat, the Boyar Chef d'Regime waved his cigar glumly at the surrounding hills.\n \n \"Fifty years ago this was bare rock,\" he said. \"We've bred special strains of bacteria here to break down the formations into soil, and we followed up with a program of broad-spectrum fertilization. We planned to put the whole area into crops by next year. Now it looks like the goats will get it.\"\n \n \"Will that scrubland support a crop?\" Retief said, eyeing the lichen-covered knolls.\n \n \"Sure. We start with legumes and follow up with cereals. Wait until you see this next section. It's an old flood plain, came into production thirty years ago. One of our finest—\"\n \n The air-car topped a rise. The Chef dropped his cigar and half rose, with a hoarse yell. A herd of scraggly goats tossed their heads among a stand of ripe grain. The car pulled to a stop. Retief held the Boyar's arm.\n \n \"Keep calm, Georges,\" he said. \"Remember, we're on a diplomatic mission. It wouldn't do to come to the conference table smelling of goats.\"\n \n \"Let me at 'em!\" Georges roared. \"I'll throttle 'em with my bare hands!\"\n \n A bearded goat eyed the Boyar Chef sardonically, jaw working. \"Look at that long-nosed son!\" The goat gave a derisive bleat and took another mouthful of ripe grain.\n \n \"Did you see that?\" Georges yelled. \"They've trained the son of a—\"\n \n \"Chin up, Georges,\" Retief said. \"We'll take up the goat problem along with the rest.\"\n \n \"I'll murder 'em!\"\n \n \"Hold it, Georges. Look over there.\"\n \n A hundred yards away, a trio of brown-cloaked horsemen topped a rise, paused dramatically against the cloudless pale sky, then galloped down the slope toward the car, rifles bobbing at their backs, cloaks billowing out behind. Side by side they rode, through the brown-golden grain, cutting three narrow swaths that ran in a straight sweep from the ridge to the air-car where Retief and the Chef d'Regime hovered, waiting.\n \n Georges scrambled for the side of the car. \"Just wait 'til I get my hands on him!\"\n \n Retief pulled him back. \"Sit tight and look pleased, Georges. Never give the opposition a hint of your true feelings. Pretend you're a goat lover—and hand me one of your cigars.\"\n \n The three horsemen pulled up in a churn of chaff and a clatter of pebbles. Georges coughed, batting a hand at the settling dust. Retief peeled the cigar unhurriedly, sniffed, at it and thumbed it alight. He drew at it, puffed out a cloud of smoke and glanced casually at the trio of Aga Kagan cavaliers.\n \n \"Peace be with you,\" he intoned in accent-free Kagan. \"May your shadows never grow less.\"\n \n \n\n \n The leader of the three, a hawk-faced man with a heavy beard, unlimbered his rifle. He fingered it, frowning ferociously.\n \n \"Have no fear,\" Retief said, smiling graciously. \"He who comes as a guest enjoys perfect safety.\"\n \n A smooth-faced member of the threesome barked an oath and leveled his rifle at Retief.\n \n \"Youth is the steed of folly,\" Retief said. \"Take care that the beardless one does not disgrace his house.\"\n \n The leader whirled on the youth and snarled an order. He lowered the rifle, muttering. Blackbeard turned back to Retief.\n \n \"Begone, interlopers,\" he said. \"You disturb the goats.\"\n \n \"Provision is not taken to the houses of the generous,\" Retief said.\n\"May the creatures dine well ere they move on.\"\n \n \"Hah! The goats of the Aga Kaga graze on the lands of the Aga Kaga.\" The leader edged his horse close, eyed Retief fiercely. \"We welcome no intruders on our lands.\"\n \n \"To praise a man for what he does not possess is to make him appear foolish,\" Retief said. \"These are the lands of the Boyars. But enough of these pleasantries. We seek audience with your ruler.\"\n \n \"You may address me as 'Exalted One',\" the leader said. \"Now dismount from that steed of Shaitan.\"\n \n \"It is written, if you need anything from a dog, call him 'sir',\" Retief said. \"I must decline to impute canine ancestry to a guest. Now you may conduct us to your headquarters.\"\n \n \"Enough of your insolence!\" The bearded man cocked his rifle. \"I could blow your heads off!\"\n \n \"The hen has feathers, but it does not fly,\" Retief said. \"We have asked for escort. A slave must be beaten with a stick; for a free man, a hint is enough.\"\n \n \"You mock me, pale one. I warn you—\"\n \n \"Only love makes me weep,\" Retief said. \"I laugh at hatred.\"\n \n \"Get out of the car!\"\n \n Retief puffed at his cigar, eyeing the Aga Kagan cheerfully. The youth in the rear moved forward, teeth bared.\n \n \"Never give in to the fool, lest he say, 'He fears me,'\" Retief said.\n \n \"I cannot restrain my men in the face of your insults,\" the bearded Aga Kagan roared. \"These hens of mine have feathers—and talons as well!\"\n \n \"When God would destroy an ant, he gives him wings,\" Retief said.\n\"Distress in misfortune is another misfortune.\"\n \n The bearded man's face grew purple.\n \n Retief dribbled the ash from his cigar over the side of the car.\n \n \"Now I think we'd better be getting on,\" he said briskly. \"I've enjoyed our chat, but we do have business to attend to.\"\n \n The bearded leader laughed shortly. \"Does the condemned man beg for the axe?\" he enquired rhetorically. \"You shall visit the Aga Kaga, then. Move on! And make no attempt to escape, else my gun will speak you a brief farewell.\"\n \n The horsemen glowered, then, at a word from the leader, took positions around the car. Georges started the vehicle forward, following the leading rider. Retief leaned back and let out a long sigh.\n \n \"That was close,\" he said. \"I was about out of proverbs.\"\n \n \"You sound as though you'd brought off a coup,\" Georges said. \"From the expression on the whiskery one's face, we're in for trouble. What was he saying?\"\n \n \"Just a routine exchange of bluffs,\" Retief said. \"Now when we get there, remember to make your flattery sound like insults and your insults sound like flattery, and you'll be all right.\"\n \n \"These birds are armed. And they don't like strangers,\" Georges said.\n\"Maybe I should have boned up on their habits before I joined this expedition.\"\n \n \"Just stick to the plan,\" Retief said. \"And remember: a handful of luck is better than a camel-load of learning.\"\n \n \n\n \n The air car followed the escort down a long slope to a dry river bed and across it, through a barren stretch of shifting sand to a green oasis set with canopies.\n \n The armed escort motioned the car to a halt before an immense tent of glistening black. Before the tent armed men lounged under a pennant bearing a lion couchant in crimson on a field verte.\n \n \"Get out,\" Blackbeard ordered. The guards eyed the visitors, their drawn sabers catching sunlight. Retief and Georges stepped from the car onto rich rugs spread on the grass. They followed the ferocious gesture of the bearded man through the opening into a perfumed interior of luminous shadows. A heavy odor of incense hung in the air, and the strumming of stringed instruments laid a muted pattern of sound behind the decorations of gold and blue, silver and green. At the far end of the room, among a bevy of female slaves, a large and resplendently clad man with blue-black hair and a clean-shaven chin popped a grape into his mouth. He wiped his fingers negligently on a wisp of silk offered by a handmaiden, belched loudly and looked the callers over.\n \n Blackbeard cleared his throat. \"Down on your faces in the presence of the Exalted One, the Aga Kaga, ruler of East and West.\"\n \n \"Sorry,\" Retief said firmly. \"My hay-fever, you know.\"\n \n The reclining giant waved a hand languidly.\n \n \"Never mind the formalities,\" he said. \"Approach.\"\n \n Retief and Georges crossed the thick rugs. A cold draft blew toward them. The reclining man sneezed violently, wiped his nose on another silken scarf and held up a hand.\n \n \"Night and the horses and the desert know me,\" he said in resonant tones. \"Also the sword and the guest and paper and pen—\" He paused, wrinkled his nose and sneezed again. \"Turn off that damned air-conditioner,\" he snapped.\n \n He settled himself and motioned the bearded man to him. The two exchanged muted remarks. Then the bearded man stepped back, ducked his head and withdrew to the rear.\n \n \"Excellency,\" Retief said, \"I have the honor to present M. Georges Duror, Chef d'Regime of the Planetary government.\"\n \n \"Planetary government?\" The Aga Kaga spat grape seeds on the rug. \"My men have observed a few squatters along the shore. If they're in distress, I'll see about a distribution of goat-meat.\"\n \n \"It is the punishment of the envious to grieve at anothers' plenty,\" Retief said. \"No goat-meat will be required.\"\n \n \"Ralph told me you talk like a page out of Mustapha ben Abdallah Katib Jelebi,\" the Aga Kaga said. \"I know a few old sayings myself. For example, 'A Bedouin is only cheated once.'\"\n \n \"We have no such intentions, Excellency,\" Retief said. \"Is it not written, 'Have no faith in the Prince whose minister cheats you'?\"\n \n \"I've had some unhappy experiences with strangers,\" the Aga Kaga said.\n\"It is written in the sands that all strangers are kin. Still, he who visits rarely is a welcome guest. Be seated.\"\n \n \n\n III\n \n Handmaidens brought cushions, giggled and fled. Retief and Georges settled themselves comfortably. The Aga Kaga eyed them in silence.\n \n \n\n \n \"We have come to bear tidings from the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne,\" Retief said solemnly. A perfumed slave girl offered grapes.\n \n \"Modest ignorance is better than boastful knowledge,\" the Aga Kaga said. \"What brings the CDT into the picture?\"\n \n \"The essay of the drunkard will be read in the tavern,\" Retief said.\n\"Whereas the words of kings....\"\n \n \"Very well, I concede the point.\" The Aga Kaga waved a hand at the serving maids. \"Depart, my dears. Attend me later. You too, Ralph. These are mere diplomats. They are men of words, not deeds.\"\n \n The bearded man glared and departed. The girls hurried after him.\n \n \"Now,\" the Aga Kaga said. \"Let's drop the wisdom of the ages and get down to the issues. Not that I don't admire your repertoire of platitudes. How do you remember them all?\"\n \n \"Diplomats and other liars require good memories,\" said Retief. \"But as you point out, small wisdom to small minds. I'm here to effect a settlement of certain differences between yourself and the planetary authorities. I have here a Note, which I'm conveying on behalf of the Sector Under-Secretary. With your permission, I'll read it.\"\n \n \"Go ahead.\" The Aga Kaga kicked a couple of cushions onto the floor, eased a bottle from under the couch and reached for glasses.\n \n \"The Under-Secretary for Sector Affairs presents his compliments to his Excellency, the Aga Kaga of the Aga Kaga, Primary Potentate, Hereditary Sheik, Emir of the—\"\n \n \"Yes, yes. Skip the titles.\"\n \n Retief flipped over two pages.\n \n \"... and with reference to the recent relocation of persons under the jurisdiction of his Excellency, has the honor to point out that the territories now under settlement comprise a portion of that area, hereinafter designated as Sub-sector Alpha, which, under terms of the Agreement entered into by his Excellency's predecessor, and as referenced in Sector Ministry's Notes numbers G-175846573957-b and X-7584736 c-1, with particular pertinence to that body designated in the Revised Galactic Catalogue, Tenth Edition, as amended, Volume Nine, reel 43, as 54 Cygni Alpha, otherwise referred to hereinafter as Flamme—\"\n \n \"Come to the point,\" the Aga Kaga cut in. \"You're here to lodge a complaint that I'm invading territories to which someone else lays claim, is that it?\" He smiled broadly, offered dope-sticks and lit one.\n\"Well, I've been expecting a call. After all, it's what you gentlemen are paid for. Cheers.\"\n \n \"Your Excellency has a lucid way of putting things,\" Retief said.\n \n \"Call me Stanley,\" the Aga Kaga said. \"The other routine is just to please some of the old fools—I mean the more conservative members of my government. They're still gnawing their beards and kicking themselves because their ancestors dropped science in favor of alchemy and got themselves stranded in a cultural dead end. This charade is supposed to prove they were right all along. However, I've no time to waste in neurotic compensations. I have places to go and deeds to accomplish.\"\n \n \"At first glance,\" Retief said, \"it looks as though the places are already occupied, and the deeds are illegal.\"\n \n \n\n \n The Aga Kaga guffawed. \"For a diplomat, you speak plainly, Retief. Have another drink.\" He poured, eyeing Georges. \"What of M. Duror? How does he feel about it?\"\n \n Georges took a thoughtful swallow of whiskey. \"Not bad,\" he said. \"But not quite good enough to cover the odor of goats.\"\n \n The Aga Kaga snorted. \"I thought the goats were overdoing it a bit myself,\" he said. \"Still, the graybeards insisted. And I need their support.\"\n \n \"Also,\" Georges said distinctly, \"I think you're soft. You lie around letting women wait on you, while your betters are out doing an honest day's work.\"\n \n The Aga Kaga looked startled. \"Soft? I can tie a knot in an iron bar as big as your thumb.\" He popped a grape into his mouth. \"As for the rest, your pious views about the virtues of hard labor are as childish as my advisors' faith in the advantages of primitive plumbing. As for myself, I am a realist. If two monkeys want the same banana, in the end one will have it, and the other will cry morality. The days of my years are numbered, praise be to God. While they last, I hope to eat well, hunt well, fight well and take my share of pleasure. I leave to others the arid satisfactions of self-denial and other perversions.\"\n \n \"You admit you're here to grab our land, then,\" Georges said. \"That's the damnedest piece of bare-faced aggression—\"\n \n \"Ah, ah!\" The Aga Kaga held up a hand. \"Watch your vocabulary, my dear sir. I'm sure that 'justifiable yearnings for territorial self-realization' would be more appropriate to the situation. Or possibly 'legitimate aspirations, for self-determination of formerly exploited peoples' might fit the case. Aggression is, by definition, an activity carried on only by those who have inherited the mantle of Colonial Imperialism.\"\n \n \"Imperialism! Why, you Aga Kagans have been the most notorious planet-grabbers in Sector history, you—you—\"\n \n \"Call me Stanley.\" The Aga Kaga munched a grape. \"I merely face the realities of popular folk-lore. Let's be pragmatic; it's a matter of historical association. Some people can grab land and pass it off lightly as a moral duty; others are dubbed imperialist merely for holding onto their own. Unfair, you say. But that's life, my friends. And I shall continue to take every advantage of it.\"\n \n \"We'll fight you!\" Georges bellowed. He took another gulp of whiskey and slammed the glass down. \"You won't take this world without a struggle!\"\n \n \"Another?\" the Aga Kaga said, offering the bottle. Georges glowered as his glass was filled. The Aga Kaga held the glass up to the light.\n \n \"Excellent color, don't you agree?\" He turned his eyes on Georges.\n \n \"It's pointless to resist,\" he said. \"We have you outgunned and outmanned. Your small nation has no chance against us. But we're prepared to be generous. You may continue to occupy such areas as we do not immediately require until such time as you're able to make other arrangements.\"\n \n \"And by the time we've got a crop growing out of what was bare rock, you'll be ready to move in,\" the Boyar Chef d'Regime snapped. \"But you'll find that we aren't alone!\"\n \n \n\n \n \"Quite alone,\" the Aga said. He nodded sagely. \"Yes, one need but read the lesson of history. The Corps Diplomatique will make expostulatory noises, but it will accept the fait accompli . You, my dear sir, are but a very small nibble. We won't make the mistake of excessive greed. We shall inch our way to empire—and those who stand in our way shall be dubbed warmongers.\"\n \n \"I see you're quite a student of history, Stanley,\" Retief said. \"I wonder if you recall the eventual fate of most of the would-be empire nibblers of the past?\"\n \n \"Ah, but they grew incautious. They went too far, too fast.\"\n \n \"The confounded impudence,\" Georges rasped. \"Tells us to our face what he has in mind!\"\n \n \"An ancient and honorable custom, from the time of Mein Kampf and the Communist Manifesto through the Porcelain Wall of Leung. Such declarations have a legendary quality. It's traditional that they're never taken at face value.\"\n \n \"But always,\" Retief said, \"there was a critical point at which the man on horseback could have been pulled from the saddle.\"\n \n \" Could have been,\" the Aga Kaga chuckled. He finished the grapes and began peeling an orange. \"But they never were. Hitler could have been stopped by the Czech Air Force in 1938; Stalin was at the mercy of the primitive atomics of the west in 1946; Leung was grossly over-extended at Rangoon. But the onus of that historic role could not be overcome. It has been the fate of your spiritual forebears to carve civilization from the wilderness and then, amid tearing of garments and the heaping of ashes of self-accusation on your own confused heads, to withdraw, leaving the spoils for local political opportunists and mob leaders, clothed in the mystical virtue of native birth. Have a banana.\"\n \n \"You're stretching your analogy a little too far,\" Retief said. \"You're banking on the inaction of the Corps. You could be wrong.\"\n \n \"I shall know when to stop,\" the Aga Kaga said.\n \n \"Tell me, Stanley,\" Retief said, rising. \"Are we quite private here?\"\n \n \"Yes, perfectly so,\" the Aga Kaga said. \"None would dare to intrude in my council.\" He cocked an eyebrow at Retief. \"You have a proposal to make in confidence? But what of our dear friend Georges? One would not like to see him disillusioned.\"\n \n \"Don't worry about Georges. He's a realist, like you. He's prepared to deal in facts. Hard facts, in this case.\"\n \n The Aga Kaga nodded thoughtfully. \"What are you getting at?\"\n \n \"You're basing your plan of action on the certainty that the Corps will sit by, wringing its hands, while you embark on a career of planetary piracy.\"\n \n \"Isn't it the custom?\" the Aga Kaga smiled complacently.\n \n \"I have news for you, Stanley. In this instance, neck-wringing seems more in order than hand-wringing.\"\n \n The Aga Kaga frowned. \"Your manner—\"\n \n \"Never mind our manners!\" Georges blurted, standing. \"We don't need any lessons from goat-herding land-thieves!\"\n \n The Aga Kaga's face darkened. \"You dare to speak thus to me, pig of a muck-grubber!\"", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "0a3381cd0b3c4213bebb7dd6957d565d", "response_text": "As the story opens, Retief, the Minister to Flamme, is meeting with other members of the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne, including Under-Secretary Sternwheeler and Deputy Under-Secretary Magnan. The men discuss Retief’s plan to visit Flamme in person to deal with the growing conflict between the Boyars, who have been living on Flamme for sixty years, and the Aga Kagans. The latter recently arrived on Flamme and began taking over land that the Boyars are farming. The Aga Kagans appear to be goat herders, living in tents and allowing their goats to graze on land that the Boyars use for crops, but in reality, the Aga Kagans have weapons, including 40 mm infinite repeaters and rocket launchers. Retief wants to offer the Boyars the support of the Corps, but Sternwheeler will only go so far as to authorize a “stiffly worded Protest Note.” With foresight, Retief has already drafted a note because he anticipated the Corps would respond with paperwork rather than action. \t\n\tRetief travels to Flamme and meets with Georges Duror, the Boyar Chef d’Regime. Georges indicates that he has been holding back his men who want to attack the Aga Kagans for taking their land, and Retief reminds Georges that if the Boyars act without backing from the Corps, they are likely to be destroyed. Retief also tells Georges that the goats and tents are just for show; the Aga Kagans have a modern navy and bullet-proof cloaks, and on their home planet, they travel via modern helis and ground cars. Georges seems discouraged by this news, but Retief reminds him he has the Note and asks him to give diplomacy a chance.\n\tRetief and Georges travel to meet with the head of the Aga Kagans to deliver the Note. On the way, Georges points out the progress that the Boyars have made on Flamme. They stop their air-car when Georges sees a herd of goats in a grain field, and three Aga Kagan horsemen confront them. Retief asks them to take him and Georges to their leader, and they do. Retief introduces Georges as from the Planetary government to the leader, Stanley, and offers to read the Note. He begins with a series of titles until Stanley tells him to skip them. Retief flips two pages and begins a long, legalistic description of relocated people until Stanley cuts him off. Stanley says the Boyars will be accused of imperialism if they attack the Aga Kagans but offers to allow the Boyars to stay until they can make other arrangements. Stanley reveals that the Aga Kagans are slowly creating an empire, and he expects the Corps won’t do anything about it. Georges and Stanley exchange heated insults. \n"}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "08ce9506221e4b6c8e164e2c5a4cbc02", "response_text": "Boyars have spent 60 years terraforming the planet of Flamme, and were assured support from the Corps in their endeavors to colonize the planet from the beginning. A second group, called the Aga Kagan, have begun to move into the planet to do what the Boyars have been told is fishing and homesteading. However, they have landed only males on the planet as well as rocket launchers, suggesting they are mounting an armed takeover.\n\nHigher officials in the Corps (the Under-Secretary) are now walking back their support of the Boyar, to the dismay of Retief - a diplomatic Minister to the planet. Retief has a history of working with the Boyar, and is irritated that the Corps are not willing to be any more engaged in helping them than writing a strongly worded note.\n\nRetief and the Chief d’Regime of the Boyar, Georges, travel on a diplomatic mission via a hovercar to deliver the Note to the Aga Kagan. They encounter a party of three Aga Kagan in the foothills as they travel west, and after a very tense and offensive interaction between the parties are escorted to the leader - Exalted Ruler - of the Aga Kagan, Stanley.\n\nStanley is in an opulent tent being served by slave women that feed and provide for the men. Retief and Georges deliver the Note from the Corps and speak with Stanley largely in proverbs until Stanley persuades them to speak more directly. Georges is hot tempered, and overcome with irritation through the conversation with Stanley about the Aga Kagan moving onto Flamme - ultimately leaving the tent. Retief remains curious about Stanley’s motivations and discovers that he is intent on continuing to invade, no matter the consequences. The story ends with the temper of Stanley flaring up, potentially starting a war on planet Flamme.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "178d39bd67594214a50f706778fe525b", "response_text": "Reteif, the Minister to Flamme, approaches an Under-Secretary about the potential invasion that is happening on Flamme. He informs him of the Aga Kagans presence on the planet, and the Boyers very unhappy reaction. He assures the Under-Secretary that he has calmed the Boyers and asked for no action presently, but he wants to know what the Corps will do in response. After delving into the history of the situation--the Corps mainly stays out of the Aga Kagans imperialistic ways--, they reach an agreement to deliver a Protest Note to the Aga Kagans on behalf of the Corps. However, that’s all they will do. \nRetief returns to Flamme and visits with Georges, the Chef d’Regime of the Boyers. They sit in the Governor House, drinking barley whiskey, and discussing the Aga Kagan invasion. Georges informs him of the goat-issue, the ruined oyster patch, while Retief reveals that the Aga Kagan came armed and ready to fight. Georges wants to fight back, but Retief cautions him. Citing the Note, Retief believes they can solve this without any violence. \nThey take off in a car to the Aga Kagans’ territory, past the fertile fields and beautiful lakes. They see goats running through a wheat field, further angering Georges. They are stopped by three Aga Kagans, the leader of which is Blackbeard, and Retief speaks to them in their native language. Using proverbs and confusing language, he gains entry into their camp and the smooth-faced Aga Kagans deliver them to their leader, the Aga Kaga. They are all armed, but Retief advises Georges on how to speak to the leader and reminds him to stick to the plan. \nThey arrive at a large black tent. The Aga Kaga is lounging with several female slaves surrounding him, doting on his every need. He has blue-black hair and he’s very well-dresseed.  they discuss his plans to invade and how they are up for grabs, at least according to the Aga Kaga. The Aga Kaga claims the Boyars are truly the squatters, not his people. They converse in proverbs and diplomatic terms, until Retief brings out the Protest Note. Then they discuss the historical relevance to his conquering ways, and how the Aga Kaga, or Stanley, believes he will win without any protest from the Corps. \nGeorges makes fun of the Aga Kaga, and his words become more and more aggressive. Reteif finds it impossible that the Corps will simply sit back and watch him take over this planet. It’s clear that Retief has some sort of ulteriour motive in this argument. The story ends with the argument evolving into yelling and harsh words. \n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "e6191be38a0a4b2790abdf3f34fb4127", "response_text": "Two groups, the Boyars and Aga Kagans, are fighting for control of Flamme, a planet the Boyars terraformed. It is up to the humans to act as mediators in this conflict, which they do under the ribbon of the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne. Retief, a member of the Corps, wants to give the Boyars official Corps support, but the Under-Secretary is hesitant to say anything too definite and offers to write a note. After the meeting, Magnan invites Retief to a reception later that day with a lot of figure-heads, but Retief wants to get back to Flamme, where he will hopefully keep war from breaking out.  On Flamme, Retief talks to Georges, a Boyar leader. Retief tries to convince Georges to give a diplomatic approach a shot, and advises him on how to proceed. The two of them head out of the capitol, discussing the countryside as Georges expresses his frustration about goats. Retief tries to keep Georges calm and takes his time to unwrap a cigar before he greets the Aga Kagans that approach. After some formalities, Retief explains that they have come to talk with the Aga Kagan leaders. They continue speaking in idioms, but Retief seems to have insulted the Aga Kagans. Retief and Georges eventually make it out of the situation, being led to the Aga Kagan headquarters. Once they arrive, the Aga Kagan known as Blackbeard orders Retief and Georges out of their car, and they are introduced to \"the Exalted One, the Aga Kaga, ruler of the East and West\". Then, the discussion in proverbs continues. Retief introduces his friend as \"M. Georges Duror, Chef d'Regime of the Planetary government\", referring to him as a planetary leader as a power play. This upsets the Aga Kaga, who doesn't consider Georges important. The three eventually sit to discuss the involvement of the Corps, and Retief pulls out the note from the sector's Under-Secretary. Just the statement of titles took at least two pages of the note, and the rest of the note was just as wordy, which frustrated the Aga Kaga, who smugly admitted he had been expecting this complaint. The Aga Kaga, who says to call him Stanley, is thankful that Retief speaks plainly for a diplomat. It turns out Stanley is trying to put up an image for his fellow people but isn't as dedicated to the plan as the others. His primary goal seems to be to live pleasurably while he is alive, but does admit he is there to take over the planet, although he insists it isn't aggressive of him to do. Aga Kaga tries to distract Georges' complaints by admiring his whiskey glass, but threatens the Boyars in the same breath. Retief and Stanley speak in thinly veiled threats citing various historical events, but eventually Retief says that the Corps will be forced to retaliate. It is with this that Georges stands up to defend himself and the story ends with tensions running high. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Compare and contrast Georges and Retief.", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "0a3381cd0b3c4213bebb7dd6957d565d", "response_text": "The two men have dealt with each other prior to the events in the story; Retief addresses Georges by his first name, so they know each other fairly well. However, Retief’s position is higher than Georges’s position. Retief works for the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne; Georges works for the Planetary government. Retief knows information about the Aga Kagans that Georges doesn’t know, such as the fact that they are armed, have bulletproof cloaks, and have modern technology on their home planet. He has advised Georges about handling the situation with the Aga Kagans, urging him to prevent the Boyars from attacking the Aga Kagans, and Georges trusts Retief to secure assistance for them. Retief is sympathetic to the Boyars and their situation, trying to persuade Under-Secretary Sternwheeler to support them. When Retief tells Georges that he will personally deliver the Note to the Aga Kagans, Georges wants to help Retief and volunteers to go with him; Retief agrees. It is Retief who develops the plan for handling the Aga Kagans. Georges is impulsive, which leads Retief to keep watch on him. When they encounter the goats in the grain field, Retief has to convince Georges not to hurt the animals, and when the horsemen ride through the grain, Retief has to hold him back again. Retief is calmer in stressful situations and reminds Georges of their strategy: to make their flattery sound like insults and their insults sound like flattery. Georges seems unsure of himself and comments that he should have learned more about their habits before accompanying Retief. Retief has to translate what the Aga Kagans say for Georges in order for him to know what is going on. When the two men meet with Stanley, Retief maintains his calm demeanor, while Georges loses his temper."}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "08ce9506221e4b6c8e164e2c5a4cbc02", "response_text": "Retief is a diplomatic Minister to Flamme and has strategic plans guiding his desire to see the Boyar continue to inhabit the planet Flamme. Georges is the Chief d’Regime of the Boyar who has an offensive hot temper and hatred of the Aga Kagan that flares routinely while he accompanies Retief to meet with the Aga Kagan. In this way, their contrasting approaches to interacting with the Aga Kagan are a very suspenseful part of the story.\n\nThe two of them desire a similar outcome - for the Boyar to continue to inhabit Flamme and for the Aga Kagan to leave. Georges and Retief have had a history of working together that provides a sense of camaraderie between them, and Retief desires to help Georges achieve his goals on the planet.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "178d39bd67594214a50f706778fe525b", "response_text": "Retief is the Minister to Flamme, a very diplomatic position. Georges is the Boyar Chef d’Regime, the Boyers’ leader and governor. Retief is a quirky man. His progressive nature and strong morals force him to attempt to save Flamme from the Aga Kagans invasion. However, his manner of doing so is sneaky and tricky, using proverbs to establish himself and make his way to the Aga. Georges, on the other hand, is a little more hot-headed. Although he has been patient so far in waiting for Retief’s aid, he wishes to destroy the invaders and is struggling to hold back his men. When they confront the Aga Kaga, Retief takes the diplomatic approach, while Georges essentially yells at him. Although Georges may be the leader of the Boyers, Retief is the one who devises the plan and leads them to the Aga Kaga. "}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "e6191be38a0a4b2790abdf3f34fb4127", "response_text": "Georges, the Boyar Chef d'Regime, has been on the planet Flamme for sixty years, overseeing its terraforming. He is understandably frustrated with the moves that the Aga Kagans are making on the territory of Boyar, and is upset at the amount of damage that the Aga Kagans are causing, as it took a long time to terraform the planet to make it what it is today. Retief is willing to get involved in the issue and backs Georges up but he goes with the flow, acting as a calm source of energy in the political sphere. It is Retief that works to convince Georges that he should consider a diplomatic approach to handling the situation, and travels to the Corps himself to make sure this is an option. Georges gets frustrated easily, as we see with the goats, and Retief is there to calm him down and remind him of the demeanor that will give him a better chance at the negotiating table. Retief speaks Kagan and is well-versed in their cultural norms, which is very useful for the purposes of negotiation. It also makes him very adept at making the Aga Kagans angry, which he does as soon as they encounter each other. On a more surface level, they are members of different groups of people, but they both hold some kind of political status within their groups respectively. "}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the setting of the story.", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "0a3381cd0b3c4213bebb7dd6957d565d", "response_text": "The story’s beginning takes place at the headquarters for the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne where Retief works, but the rest of the story takes place on the planet Flamme. Sixty years earlier, the Boyars settled on Flamme and set about making it suitable for farming by clearing the jungle, descumming the seas, irrigating the deserts, and setting out forests. For sixty years, the Boyars inhabited the planet by themselves, with only the saurian wildlife presenting a danger to them. Flamme is now a thriving planet. It has a Government House with comfortable lounge furniture, waiters in white jackets, colorful flowers, a lake, a lawn, and colorful flowerbeds. It also has beautiful sunsets. Outside the capital, there are rolling hills of granite. Flamme’s main industry seems to be agriculture; fifty years ago they had bare rock, but they bred special strains of bacteria that broke the rock down to soil where they raised legumes and then grains. The Boyars also have oyster breeding beds. There are roads, although they have pot-holes, and air-cars for transportation. The Aga Kaban headquarters is a large black tent featuring air conditioning and a pennant featuring a lion “couchant in crimson on a field verte.” It has the smell of incense, and someone is playing stringed instruments inside. There are colorful decorations in gold, blue, silver, and green. The Aga Kaba are accustomed to the finer things in life; Stanley even blows his nose on silk cloth. Their foods include grapes, oranges, and bananas, and their beverages include whiskey. Everything about the Aga Kaba’s leader’s tent suggests wealth and luxury.\n"}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "08ce9506221e4b6c8e164e2c5a4cbc02", "response_text": "The story is set on the planet of Flamme, which has been terraformed over the last sixty years into a habitable landscape for crop culture and fishing. It opens in the Corps offices where Retief meets with the Under-Secretary.\n\nRetief travels to a fancy government house of the Boyar Chief d’Regime, Georges, that includes a waitstaff and an expansive verandah.\n\nThe diplomatic party travels eight miles west of the capital in a black official air-car flying twin flags of Chief of State and Terrestrial Minister. It continues on some unknown distance through granite hills to the opulent tent of the Exalted Ruler of the Aga Kaga. The tent is outfitted with rich rugs, stringed instruments playing and female slaves serving the men. The rest of the story takes place in this tent.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "178d39bd67594214a50f706778fe525b", "response_text": "Much of The Desert and the Stars by Keither Laumer takes place on a previously barren, uninhabitable planet made fertile by the Boyars. After almost 100 years dedicated to terraforming the planet Flamme, the Boyars finally succeeded in making the planet habitable. With very advanced technology, they made the ground ripe and fertile, wheat stalks and barley floating in the wind. Oysters lie in the pools of water, and the great boulders and rock formations that will soon be eroded by a special bacteria will eventually host more crops. Their sunsets are striking and colorful, with beautiful poplar trees and well-maintained flower beds. \nRetief stays at the Government House with Georges, the Boyar Chef d’Regime. The house overlooks a lake and is surrounding by beautiful gardens. \nThe Aga Kagans have taken over more of the rocky areas, introducing goats into the ecosystem. Their unwanted presence takes away from the belabored beauty that the Boyars created. \n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "e6191be38a0a4b2790abdf3f34fb4127", "response_text": "Most of the story takes place on Flamme, a planet occupied by the Boyars, the people who terraformed it, but more recently also occupied by the Aga Kagans. There is also a presence of the people from Earth, who work under the umbrella of the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne. In the capital city of Flamme, the view from the Government House is gorgeous, with various trees and flowers planted that seem to glow in the purple and red sunset of the planet. Outside of the capital, among the hills, it is less beautified and the streets have potholes. This area used to be covered entirely in rock, but the hills were created by the terraforming and fertilization technology of the Boyars. There are a lot of goats on these hills now, because of the Aga Kagans, and past this area there are stretches of sand and other green areas, which is where the Aga Kagan leaders are. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the role of history in the story?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "0a3381cd0b3c4213bebb7dd6957d565d", "response_text": "The history of Flamme itself is of great relevance to its value to both the Boyars and the Aga Kagans. When the Boyars settled the planet sixty years ago, it was habitable but unable to support much agriculture. They have spent sixty years terraforming Flamme, clearing jungles, descumming seas, irrigating deserts, and planting forests. Fifty years ago, the Boyars learned how to breed a special strain of bacteria that breaks down the granite that covered much of the surface. The granite breaks down to soil, and the Boyars add broad-spectrum fertilizer to make the land arable. The Boyars now have many fields of crops and are continuing to develop new sections for more. Their many years of intensive work in creating farming land and growing crops gives them a vested interest in their settlement.\nThe Aga Kagans are involved in empire-building. They have sent what appear to be goat herders and fishermen to Flamme to begin taking over the land. The goat herders are all male and have rocket launchers. They present a false appearance as homesteaders who lack access to modern technology; in reality, their tents are high-polymer plastic, and their robes are bullet-proof. On their home planet, they have helis and ground cars. The homesteaders set up camp in the middle of farm fields, allow their goats to graze on the crops, and cook their sheep’s brains over dung fires. The fishermen are actually the Aga Kagan navy who come equipped with 40 mm infinite repeaters. The CDT knows that the Aga Kagans have been using this same method of invasion for the past five years in six other worlds. The Aga Kagans hide their modern technology in the places they are invading to dupe the people they are intruding on and to please the older conservatives in their government. \nThe Aga Kagans’ approach to empire-building is based on their knowledge of Earth history. While their society has modern technology, their false appearance of third world trappings can be used to justify their invasions into “more advanced” societies. Stanley admits the Aga Kagans move into an area after others have done the hard work of building the community and civilization so that the Aga Kagans can enjoy the fruits of the others’ labors. By appearing to be a third world civilization, the Aga Kagans can defend their actions and gain empathy with a claim of “legitimate aspirations, for self-determination of formerly exploited peoples.” Stanley also acknowledges his familiarity with empire-builders on Earth and claims he won’t make their mistake of going “too far, too fast.” He couches their approach as “an ancient and honorable custom” and references Mein Kampf, the Communist Manifesto, and Leung’s the Porcelain Wall. Based on the histories of the men behind these works, Stanley knows that the CDT will follow the practice of appeasement and allow the Aga Kagans to make their little land-grabs until they are positioned so that they cannot be stopped.\n"}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "08ce9506221e4b6c8e164e2c5a4cbc02", "response_text": "Stanley manipulates a historically exploited group, the Aga Kagan, to gain power. Stanley appears to be interested in exploiting whatever means necessary to acquire such power, and has positioned himself as the Exalted Ruler of the Aga Kagan to do so. He speaks negatively about the Aga Kagan and their elders which he pays lip service to, but ultimately executes his own strategies that may or may not be in line with the historical actions of their people. Stanley uses the history of the Aga Kagan as formerly exploited people to place the Corps into a complicated diplomatic situation to get his way that he relishes in and laughs about during the diplomatic visit from Retief and Georges."}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "178d39bd67594214a50f706778fe525b", "response_text": "The leader of the Aga Kagans uses history as a way to justify his actions and prove to himself and others that he will face little to no resistance in the process. He references colonial imperialism, colonization, and some of the most hated figures in history as his predecessors. By relying on the Corps silence, he truly believes that he will be able to conquer Flamme, destroy the Boyars, and do all this without any humanitarian uprising. \nBy taking it slow and biding their times, the Aga Kagans will acquire their empire slowly but surely. Based on previous knowledge, the Aga truly believes that the Corps will simply accept their invasion, so long as they don’t move too quickly. He cites Hitler, Leung, and Stalin as references: these people moved too far too fast. \nHistory also sets up the present conflict. Sixty years earlier, the Corps encouraged and asked the Boyars to terraform Flamme and transform it into something beautiful. The Boyars did so, believing the Corps wwere on their side. Now, half a century later with the Aga Kagans encroaching on their territory, the Boyars are waiting for their previously promised Corps support and coming up empty. Interestingly enough, the Boyars asked the Aga Kagans to co-settle Flamme with them, but both the Corps and the Aga Kagans refused. \n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "e6191be38a0a4b2790abdf3f34fb4127", "response_text": "Flamme had been a wasteland, but was terraformed by the Boyars. The planet itself has a lot of history, which is part of the current conflict. The Aga Kagans had not wanted to help terraform the planet, but now that the hard work was done over many decades, they wanted to move in. History also plays a role in communication more generally. The Aga Kagans communicate in proverbs, which act as idioms referencing specific historical events. The Aga Kagans are also familiar with the history of other cultures, and aim to control the narrative of the history of various planets, deciding who is considered a warmonger versus labeling their own takeovers in a positive light. The Aga Kaga knows a lot about the history of Earth as well, and cites a number of historical events to Reteif during their impassioned discussion, along with names of famous historical manifestos. The Aga Kaga tries to use these historical events as points in an analogy, much like the proverbs his people communicate with regularly.  "}]}, {"question_text": "What is the role of the Aga Kagans in the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "0a3381cd0b3c4213bebb7dd6957d565d", "response_text": "The Aga Kagans are an empire-building society that has been increasing their presence in six other worlds by the time they appear on Flamme. The Aga Kagans send in men disguised as goat herders and fishermen who are actually armed and equipped with modern accessories. The Aga Kagans have a plan to build their empire by invading other worlds following the model of Adolf Hitler, but they plan to avoid his mistake of moving “too far, too fast.” The Aga Kagan leader, Stanley, is well-educated and a manipulator. He plays to the older conservative Aga Kagans by allowing the third-world trappings of goat herders to be used while he actually has disdain for their traditional values, but his charade gives him what he wants. The Aga Kagans wait until an area has done the hard work of building its civilization and becoming sustainable before he moves his men in. Although the CDT is aware of the Aga Kagans’ actions, it wants to avoid warfare and meets the intrusions with diplomacy, but all the while, the Aga Kagans are ensconcing themselves for a permanent takeover of the places where they have intruded.\n"}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "08ce9506221e4b6c8e164e2c5a4cbc02", "response_text": "In the story, the Aga Kagan are portrayed as antagonists to the Boyar. They appear to be manipulated by Stanley into actions that may no longer be entirely in line with the beliefs of the Aga Kagan elders.\nThe Aga Kagans are a group that has been moving onto the planet Flamme for the past five years. They’ve landed military equipment that suggests they are willing to move in violently if necessary, but have not yet been met with resistance from the Boyar who have been living on the planet for sixty years. \n\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "178d39bd67594214a50f706778fe525b", "response_text": "The Aga Kagans are a conquering people, known for their planet-grabbing tendencies. They have currently set up shop on the Boyer-populated planet, Flamme. After the Boyers spent 60 years redoing the planet and making it fertile and inhabitable, the Aga Kagans swooped in and are plotting an extremely slow invasion. They arrived with long robes and goat-skin tents, as well as lots and lots of goats. However, these robes and tents are actually made out of a special bullet-proof material. The goats were just for show. \nWith an incredible arsenal, an army of “homesteaders,” and armor to match, the Aga Kagans are fully prepared to invade the Boyers. They are the antagonist of the story, especially their leader, the Aga Kaga or Stanley, as he likes to be called. \n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "e6191be38a0a4b2790abdf3f34fb4127", "response_text": "The Aga Kagans seem to be making a move on the territory that the Boyars consider theirs. The Aga Kagans making a claim on this land could be an act of war, and the Corps wants to avoid a war as much as possible. They ruin some of what the Boyars have created, including an oyster breeding bed. They're on at least six planets and have spent at least the past five years trying to expand their territories. In this way, they act as the antagonists of the story, as a group that presents a challenge for the Boyars and the people from Earth to work against. "}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "51650", "uid": "529e2159da3b47f9a4d61d9d76d68145", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "INNOCENT AT LARGE\n \n \n By POUL AND KAREN ANDERSON\n \n Illustrated by WOOD\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction July 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n A hayseed Martian among big-planet slickers ... of course he would get into trouble. But that was nothing compared to the trouble he would be in if he did not get into trouble!\n \n\n \n The visiphone chimed when Peri had just gotten into her dinner gown. She peeled it off again and slipped on a casual bathrobe: a wisp of translucence which had set the president of Antarctic Enterprise—or had it been the chairman of the board?—back several thousand dollars. Then she pulled a lock of lion-colored hair down over one eye, checked with a mirror, rumpled it a tiny bit more and wrapped the robe loosely on top and tight around the hips.\n \n After all, some of the men who knew her private number were important.\n \n She undulated to the phone and pressed its Accept. \"Hello-o, there,\" she said automatically. \"So sorry to keep you waiting. I was just taking a bath and—Oh. It's you.\"\n \n Gus Doran's prawnlike eyes popped at her. \"Holy Success,\" he whispered in awe. \"You sure the wires can carry that much voltage?\"\n \n \n\n \n \"Well, hurry up with whatever it is,\" snapped Peri. \"I got a date tonight.\"\n \n \"I'll say you do! With a Martian!\"\n \n \n\n \n Peri narrowed her silver-blue gaze and looked icily at him. \"You must have heard wrong, Gus. He's the heir apparent of Indonesia, Inc., that's who, and if you called up to ask for a piece of him, you can just blank right out again. I saw him first!\"\n \n Doran's thin sharp face grinned. \"You break that date, Peri. Put it off or something. I got this Martian for you, see?\"\n \n \"So? Since when has all Mars had as much spending money as one big-time marijuana rancher? Not to mention the heir ap—\"\n \n \"Sure, sure. But how much are those boys going to spend on any girl, even a high-level type like you? Listen, I need you just for tonight, see? This Martian is strictly from gone. He is here on official business, but he is a yokel and I do mean hayseed. Like he asked me what the Christmas decorations in all the stores were! And here is the solar nexus of it, Peri, kid.\"\n \n Doran leaned forward as if to climb out of the screen. \"He has got a hundred million dollars expense money, and they are not going to audit his accounts at home. One hundred million good green certificates, legal tender anywhere in the United Protectorates. And he has about as much backbone as a piece of steak alga. Kid, if I did not happen to have experience otherwise with a small nephew, I would say this will be like taking candy from a baby.\"\n \n Peri's peaches-and-cream countenance began to resemble peaches and cream left overnight on Pluto. \"Badger?\" she asked.\n \n \"Sure. You and Sam Wendt handle the routine. I will take the go-between angle, so he will think of me as still his friend, because I have other plans for him too. But if we can't shake a million out of him for this one night's work, there is something akilter. And your share of a million is three hundred thirty-three—\"\n \n \"Is five hundred thousand flat,\" said Peri. \"Too bad I just got an awful headache and can't see Mr. Sastro tonight. Where you at, Gus?\"\n \n \n\n \n The gravity was not as hard to take as Peter Matheny had expected. Three generations on Mars might lengthen the legs and expand the chest a trifle, but the genes had come from Earth and the organism readjusts. What set him gasping was the air. It weighed like a ton of wool and had apparently sopped up half the Atlantic Ocean. Ears trained to listen through the Martian atmosphere shuddered from the racket conducted by Earth's. The passport official seemed to bellow at him.\n \n \"Pardon me for asking this. The United Protectorates welcome all visitors to Earth and I assure you, sir, an ordinary five-year visa provokes no questions. But since you came on an official courier boat of your planet, Mr. Matheny, regulations force me to ask your business.\"\n \n \"Well—recruiting.\"\n \n The official patted his comfortable stomach, iridescent in neolon, and chuckled patronizingly. \"I am afraid, sir, you won't find many people who wish to leave. They wouldn't be able to see the Teamsters Hour on Mars, would they?\"\n \n \"Oh, we don't expect immigration,\" said Matheny shyly. He was a fairly young man, but small, with a dark-thatched, snub-nosed, gray-eyed head that seemed too large for his slender body. \"We learned long ago that no one is interested any more in giving up even second-class citizenship on Earth to live in the Republic. But we only wanted to hire——uh, I mean engage—an, an advisor. We're not businessmen. We know our export trade hasn't a chance among all your corporations unless we get some—a five-year contract...?\"\n \n He heard his words trailing off idiotically, and swore at himself.\n \n \"Well, good luck.\" The official's tone was skeptical. He stamped the passport and handed it back. \"There, now, you are free to travel anywhere in the Protectorates. But I would advise you to leave the capital and get into the sticks—um, I mean the provinces. I am sure there must be tolerably competent sales executives in Russia or Congolese Belgium or such regions. Frankly, sir, I do not believe you can attract anyone out of Newer York.\"\n \n \"Thanks,\" said Matheny, \"but, you see, I—we need—that is.... Oh, well. Thanks. Good-by.\"\n \n He backed out of the office.\n \n \n\n \n A dropshaft deposited him on a walkway. The crowd, a rainbow of men in pajamas and robes, women in Neo-Sino dresses and goldleaf hats, swept him against the rail. For a moment, squashed to the wire, he stared a hundred feet down at the river of automobiles. Phobos! he thought wildly. If the barrier gives, I'll be sliced in two by a dorsal fin before I hit the pavement!\n \n \n The August twilight wrapped him in heat and stickiness. He could see neither stars nor even moon through the city's blaze. The forest of multi-colored towers, cataracting half a mile skyward across more acreage than his eyes reached, was impressive and all that, but—he used to stroll out in the rock garden behind his cottage and smoke a pipe in company with Orion. On summer evenings, that is, when the temperature wasn't too far below zero.\n  Why did they tap me for this job? he asked himself in a surge of homesickness. What the hell is the Martian Embassy here for?\n \n \n He, Peter Matheny, was no more than a peaceful professor of sociodynamics at Devil's Kettle University. Of course, he had advised his government before now—in fact, the Red Ankh Society had been his idea—but still he was at ease only with his books and his chess and his mineral collection, a faculty poker party on Tenthday night and an occasional trip to Swindletown—\n  My God , thought Matheny, here I am, one solitary outlander in the greatest commercial empire the human race has ever seen, and I'm supposed to find my planet a con man!\n \n \n He began walking, disconsolately, at random. His lizardskin shirt and black culottes drew glances, but derisive ones: their cut was forty years out of date. He should find himself a hotel, he thought drearily, but he wasn't tired; the spaceport would pneumo his baggage to him whenever he did check in. The few Martians who had been to Earth had gone into ecstasies over the automation which put any service you could name on a twenty-four-hour basis. But it would be a long time before Mars had such machines. If ever.\n \n The city roared at him.\n \n He fumbled after his pipe. Of course , he told himself, that's why the Embassy can't act. I may find it advisable to go outside the law. Please, sir, where can I contact the underworld?\n \n \n He wished gambling were legal on Earth. The Constitution of the Martian Republic forbade sumptuary and moral legislation; quite apart from the rambunctious individualism which that document formulated, the article was a practical necessity. Life was bleak enough on the deserts, without being denied the pleasure of trying to bottom-deal some friend who was happily trying to mark the cards. Matheny would have found a few spins of roulette soothing: it was always an intellectual challenge to work out the system by which the management operated a wheel. But more, he would have been among people he understood.\n \n The frightful thing about the Earthman was the way he seemed to exist only in organized masses. A gypsy snake oil peddler, plodding his syrtosaur wagon across Martian sands, just didn't have a prayer against, say, the Grant, Harding & Adams Public Relations Agency.\n \n \n\n \n Matheny puffed smoke and looked around. His feet ached from the weight on them. Where could a man sit down? It was hard to make out any individual sign through all that flimmering neon. His eye fell on one that was distinguished by relative austerity.\n \n \n THE CHURCH OF CHOICE\n   Enter, Play, Pray\n \n \n That would do. He took an upward slideramp through several hundred feet of altitude, stepped past an aurora curtain, and found himself in a marble lobby next to an inspirational newsstand.\n \n \"Ah, brother, welcome,\" said a red-haired usherette in demure black leotards. \"The peace that passeth all understanding be with you. The restaurant is right up those stairs.\"\n \n \"I—I'm not hungry,\" stammered Matheny. \"I just wanted to sit in—\"\n \n \"To your left, sir.\"\n \n The Martian crossed the lobby. His pipe went out in the breeze from an animated angel. Organ music sighed through an open doorway. The series of rooms beyond was dim, Gothic, interminable.\n \n \"Get your chips right here, sir,\" said the girl in the booth.\n \n \"Hm?\" said Matheny.\n \n She explained. He bought a few hundred-dollar tokens, dropped a fifty-buck coin down a slot marked CONTRIBUTIONS, and sipped the martini he got back while he strolled around studying the games. He stopped, frowned. Bingo? No, he didn't want to bother learning something new. He decided that the roulette wheels were either honest or too deep for him. He'd have to relax with a crap game instead.\n \n He had been standing at the table for some time before the rest of the congregation really noticed him. Then it was with awe. The first few passes he had made were unsuccessful. Earth gravity threw him off. But when he got the rhythm of it, he tossed a row of sevens. It was a customary form of challenge on Mars. Here, though, they simply pushed chips toward him. He missed a throw, as anyone would at home: simple courtesy. The next time around, he threw for a seven just to get the feel. He got a seven. The dice had not been substituted on him.\n \n \"I say!\" he exclaimed. He looked up into eyes and eyes, all around the green table. \"I'm sorry. I guess I don't know your rules.\"\n \n \"You did all right, brother,\" said a middle-aged lady with an obviously surgical bodice.\n \n \"But—I mean—when do we start actually playing ? What happened to the cocked dice?\"\n \n \n\n \n The lady drew herself up and jutted an indignant brow at him. \"Sir! This is a church!\"\n \n \"Oh—I see—excuse me, I, I, I—\" Matheny backed out of the crowd, shuddering. He looked around for some place to hide his burning ears.\n \n \"You forgot your chips, pal,\" said a voice.\n \n \"Oh. Thanks. Thanks ever so much. I, I, that is—\" Matheny cursed his knotting tongue. Damn it, just because they're so much more sophisticated than I, do I have to talk like a leaky boiler?\n \n \n The helpful Earthman was not tall. He was dark and chisel-faced and sleekly pomaded, dapper in blue pajamas with a red zigzag, a sleighbell cloak and curly-toed slippers.\n \n \"You're from Mars, aren't you?\" he asked in the friendliest tone Matheny had yet heard.\n \n \"Yes. Yes, I am. M-my name's Peter Matheny. I, I—\" He stuck out his hand to shake and chips rolled over the floor. \"Damn! Oh, excuse me, I forgot this was a church. Never mind the chips. No, please. I just want to g-g-get the hell out of here.\"\n \n \"Good idea. How about a drink? I know a bar downshaft.\"\n \n Matheny sighed. \"A drink is what I need the very most.\"\n \n \"My name's Doran. Gus Doran. Call me Gus.\"\n \n They walked back to the deaconette's booth and Matheny cashed what remained of his winnings.\n \n \"I don't want to—I mean if you're busy tonight, Mr. Doran—\"\n \n \"Nah. I am not doing one thing in particular. Besides, I have never met a Martian. I am very interested.\"\n \n \"There aren't many of us on Earth,\" agreed Matheny. \"Just a small embassy staff and an occasional like me.\"\n \n \"I should think you would do a lot of traveling here. The old mother planet and so on.\"\n \n \"We can't afford it,\" said Matheny. \"What with gravitation and distance, such voyages are much too expensive for us to make them for pleasure. Not to mention our dollar shortage.\" As they entered the shaft, he added wistfully: \"You Earth people have that kind of money, at least in your more prosperous brackets. Why don't you send a few tourists to us?\"\n \n \"I always wanted to,\" said Doran. \"I would like to see the what they call City of Time, and so on. As a matter of fact, I have given my girl one of those Old Martian rings last Ike's Birthday and she was just gazoo about it. A jewel dug out of the City of Time, like, made a million years ago by a, uh, extinct race ... I tell you, she appreciated me for it!\" He winked and nudged.\n \n \"Oh,\" said Matheny.\n \n \n\n \n He felt a certain guilt. Doran was too pleasant a little man to deserve—\n \n \"Of course,\" Matheny said ritually, \"I agree with all the archeologists it's a crime to sell such scientifically priceless artifacts, but what can we do? We must live, and the tourist trade is almost nonexistent.\"\n \n \"Trouble with it is, I hear Mars is not so comfortable,\" said Doran. \"I mean, do not get me wrong, I don't want to insult you or anything, but people come back saying you have given the planet just barely enough air to keep a man alive. And there are no cities, just little towns and villages and ranches out in the bush. I mean you are being pioneers and making a new nation and all that, but people paying half a megabuck for their ticket expect some comfort and, uh, you know.\"\n \n \"I do know,\" said Matheny. \"But we're poor—a handful of people trying to make a world of dust and sand and scrub thorn into fields and woods and seas. We can't do it without substantial help from Earth, equipment and supplies—which can only be paid for in Earth dollars—and we can't export enough to Earth to earn those dollars.\"\n \n By that time, they were entering the Paul Bunyan Knotty Pine Bar & Grill, on the 73rd Level. Matheny's jaw clanked down.\n \n \"Whassa matter?\" asked Doran. \"Ain't you ever seen a ecdysiastic technician before?\"\n \n \"Uh, yes, but—well, not in a 3-D image under ten magnifications.\"\n \n Matheny followed Doran past a sign announcing that this show was for purely artistic purposes, into a booth. There a soundproof curtain reduced the noise level enough so they could talk in normal voices.\n \n \"What'll you have?\" asked Doran. \"It's on me.\"\n \n \"Oh, I couldn't let you. I mean—\"\n \n \"Nonsense. Welcome to Earth! Care for a thyle and vermouth?\"\n \n Matheny shuddered. \"Good Lord, no!\"\n \n \"Huh? But they make thyle right on Mars, don't they?\"\n \n \"Yes. And it all goes to Earth and sells at 2000 dollars a fifth. But you don't think we'd drink it, do you? I mean—well, I imagine it doesn't absolutely ruin vermouth. But we don't see those Earthside commercials about how sophisticated people like it so much.\"\n \n \n\n \n \"Well, I'll be a socialist creeper!\" Doran's face split in a grin. \"You know, all my life I've hated the stuff and never dared admit it!\" He raised a hand. \"Don't worry, I won't blabbo. But I am wondering, if you control the thyle industry and sell all those relics at fancy prices, why do you call yourselves poor?\"\n \n \"Because we are,\" said Matheny. \"By the time the shipping costs have been paid on a bottle, and the Earth wholesaler and jobber and sales engineer and so on, down to the retailer, have taken their percentage, and the advertising agency has been paid, and about fifty separate Earth taxes—there's very little profit going back to the distillery on Mars. The same principle is what's strangling us on everything. Old Martian artifacts aren't really rare, for instance, but freight charges and the middlemen here put them out of the mass market.\"\n \n \"Have you not got some other business?\"\n \n \"Well, we do sell a lot of color slides, postcards, baggage labels and so on to people who like to act cosmopolitan, and I understand our travel posters are quite popular as wall decoration. But all that has to be printed on Earth, and the printer and distributor keep most of the money. We've sold some books and show tapes, of course, but only one has been really successful— I Was a Slave Girl on Mars .\n \n \"Our most prominent novelist was co-opted to ghostwrite that one. Again, though, local income taxes took most of the money; authors never have been protected the way a businessman is. We do make a high percentage of profit on those little certificates you see around—you know, the title deeds to one square inch of Mars—but expressed absolutely, in dollars, it doesn't amount to much when we start shopping for bulldozers and thermonuclear power plants.\"\n \n \"How about postage stamps?\" inquired Doran. \"Philately is a big business, I have heard.\"\n \n \"It was our mainstay,\" admitted Matheny, \"but it's been overworked. Martian stamps are a drug on the market. What we'd like to operate is a sweepstakes, but the anti-gambling laws on Earth forbid that.\"\n \n \n\n \n Doran whistled. \"I got to give your people credit for enterprise, anyway!\" He fingered his mustache. \"Uh, pardon me, but have you tried to, well, attract capital from Earth?\"\n \n \"Of course,\" said Matheny bitterly. \"We offer the most liberal concessions in the Solar System. Any little mining company or transport firm or—or anybody—who wanted to come and actually invest a few dollars in Mars—why, we'd probably give him the President's daughter as security. No, the Minister of Ecology has a better-looking one. But who's interested? We haven't a thing that Earth hasn't got more of. We're only the descendants of a few scientists, a few political malcontents, oddballs who happen to prefer elbow room and a bill of liberties to the incorporated state—what could General Nucleonics hope to get from Mars?\"\n \n \"I see. Well, what are you having to drink?\"\n \n \"Beer,\" said Matheny without hesitation.\n \n \"Huh? Look, pal, this is on me.\"\n \n \"The only beer on Mars comes forty million miles, with interplanetary freight charges tacked on,\" said Matheny. \"Heineken's!\"\n \n Doran shrugged, dialed the dispenser and fed it coins.\n \n \"This is a real interesting talk, Pete,\" he said. \"You are being very frank with me. I like a man that is frank.\"\n \n Matheny shrugged. \"I haven't told you anything that isn't known to every economist.\"\n  Of course I haven't. I've not so much as mentioned the Red Ankh, for instance. But, in principle, I have told him the truth, told him of our need; for even the secret operations do not yield us enough.\n \n \n The beer arrived. Matheny engulfed himself in it. Doran sipped at a whiskey sour and unobtrusively set another full bottle in front of the Martian.\n \n \"Ahhh!\" said Matheny. \"Bless you, my friend.\"\n \n \"A pleasure.\"\n \n \"But now you must let me buy you one.\"\n \n \"That is not necessary. After all,\" said Doran with great tact, \"with the situation as you have been describing—\"\n \n \"Oh, we're not that poor! My expense allowance assumes I will entertain quite a bit.\"\n \n Doran's brows lifted a few minutes of arc. \"You're here on business, then?\"\n \n \"Yes. I told you we haven't any tourists. I was sent to hire a business manager for the Martian export trade.\"\n \n \"What's wrong with your own people? I mean, Pete, it is not your fault there are so many rackets—uh, taxes—and middlemen and agencies and et cetera. That is just the way Earth is set up these days.\"\n \n \n\n \n Matheny's finger stabbed in the general direction of Doran's pajama top. \"Exactly. And who set it up that way? Earthmen. We Martians are babes in the desert. What chance do we have to earn dollars on the scale we need them, in competition with corporations which could buy and sell our whole planet before breakfast? Why, we couldn't afford three seconds of commercial time on a Lullaby Pillow 'cast. What we need, what we have to hire, is an executive who knows Earth, who's an Earthman himself. Let him tell us what will appeal to your people, and how to dodge the tax bite and—and—well, you see how it goes, that sort of, uh, thing.\"\n \n Matheny felt his eloquence running down and grabbed for the second bottle of beer.\n \n \"But where do I start?\" he asked plaintively, for his loneliness smote him anew. \"I'm just a college professor at home. How would I even get to see—\"\n \n \"It might be arranged,\" said Doran in a thoughtful tone. \"It just might. How much could you pay this fellow?\"\n \n \"A hundred megabucks a year, if he'll sign a five-year contract. That's Earth years, mind you.\"\n \n \"I'm sorry to tell you this, Pete,\" said Doran, \"but while that is not bad money, it is not what a high-powered sales scientist gets in Newer York. Plus his retirement benefits, which he would lose if he quit where he is now at. And I am sure he would not want to settle on Mars permanently.\"\n \n \"I could offer a certain amount of, uh, lagniappe,\" said Matheny. \"That is, well, I can draw up to a hundred megabucks myself for, uh, expenses and, well ... let me buy you a drink!\"\n \n Doran's black eyes frogged at him. \"You might at that,\" said the Earthman very softly. \"Yes, you might at that.\"\n \n Matheny found himself warming. Gus Doran was an authentic bobber. A hell of a swell chap. He explained modestly that he was a free-lance business consultant and it was barely possible that he could arrange some contacts....\n \n \"No, no, no commission, all done in the interest of interplanetary friendship ... well, anyhow, let's not talk business now. If you have got to stick to beer, Pete, make it a chaser to akvavit. What is akvavit? Well, I will just take and show you.\"\n \n A hell of a good bloke. He knew some very funny stories, too, and he laughed at Matheny's, though they were probably too rustic for a big-city taste like his.\n \n \"What I really want,\" said Matheny, \"what I really want—I mean what Mars really needs, get me?—is a confidence man.\"\n \n \"A what?\"\n \n \"The best and slickest one on Earth, to operate a world-size con game for us and make us some real money.\"\n \n \"Con man? Oh. A slipstring.\"\n \n \"A con by any other name,\" said Matheny, pouring down an akvavit.\n \n \n\n \n Doran squinted through cigarette smoke. \"You are interesting me strangely, my friend. Say on.\"\n \n \"No.\" Matheny realized his head was a bit smoky. The walls of the booth seemed odd, somehow. They were just leatheroid walls, but they had an odd quality.\n \n \"No, sorry, Gus,\" he said. \"I spoke too much.\"\n \n \"Okay. Forget it. I do not like a man that pries. But look, let's bomb out of here, how about it? Go have a little fun.\"\n \n \"By all means.\" Matheny disposed of his last beer. \"I could use some gaiety.\"\n \n \"You have come to the right town then. But let us get you a hotel room first and some more up-to-date clothes.\"\n \n \" Allez ,\" said Matheny. \"If I don't mean allons , or maybe alors .\"\n \n The drop down to cab-ramp level and the short ride afterward sobered him; the room rate at the Jupiter-Astoria sobered him still more.\n  Oh, well , he thought, if I succeed in this job, no one at home will quibble.\n \n \n And the chamber to which he and Doran were shown was spectacular enough, with a pneumo direct to the bar and a full-wall transparency to show the vertical incandescence of the towers.\n \n \"Whoof!\" Matheny sat down. The chair slithered sensuously about his contours. He jumped. \"What the dusty hell—Oh.\" He tried to grin, but his face burned. \"I see.\"\n \n \"That is a sexy type of furniture, all right,\" agreed Doran. He lowered himself into another chair, cocked his feet on the 3-D and waved a cigarette. \"Which speaking of, what say we get some girls? It is not too late to catch them at home. A date here will usually start around\n2100 hours earliest.\"\n \n \"What?\"\n \n \"You know. Dames. Like a certain blonde warhead with twin radar and swivel mounting, and she just loves exotics. Such as you.\"\n \n \"Me?\" Matheny heard his voice climb to a schoolboy squeak. \"Me? Exotic? Why, I'm just a little college professor. I g-g-g, that is—\" His tongue got stuck on his palate. He pulled it loose and moistened uncertain lips.\n \n \"You are from Mars. Okay? So you fought bushcats barehanded in an abandoned canal.\"\n \n \"What's a bushcat? And we don't have canals. The evaporation rate—\"\n \n \"Look, Pete,\" said Doran patiently. \"She don't have to know that, does she?\"\n \n \"Well—well, no. I guess not No.\"\n \n \"Let's order you some clothes on the pneumo,\" said Doran. \"I recommend you buy from Schwartzherz. Everybody knows he is expensive.\"\n \n \n\n \n While Matheny jittered about, shaving and showering and struggling with his new raiment, Doran kept him supplied with akvavit and beer.\n \n \"You said one thing, Pete,\" Doran remarked. \"About needing a slipstring. A con man, you would call it.\"\n \n \"Forget that. Please. I spoke out of turn.\"\n \n \"Well, you see, maybe a man like that is just what Mars does need. And maybe I have got a few contacts.\"\n \n \"What?\" Matheny gaped out of the bathroom.\n \n Doran cupped his hands around a fresh cigarette, not looking at him.\n\"I am not that man,\" he said frankly. \"But in my line I get a lot of contacts, and not all of them go topside. See what I mean? Like if, say, you wanted somebody terminated and could pay for it, I could not do it. I would not want to know anything about it. But I could tell you a phone number.\"\n \n He shrugged and gave the Martian a sidelong glance. \"Sure, you may not be interested. But if you are, well, Pete, I was not born yesterday. I got tolerance. Like the book says, if you want to get ahead, you have got to think positively.\"\n \n Matheny hesitated. If only he hadn't taken that last shot! It made him want to say yes, immediately, without reservations. And therefore maybe he became overcautious.\n \n They had instructed him on Mars to take chances if he must.\n \n \"I could tell you a thing or two that might give you a better idea,\" he said slowly. \"But it would have to be under security.\"\n \n \"Okay by me. Room service can send us up an oath box right now.\"\n \n \"What? But—but—\" Matheny hung onto himself and tried to believe that he had landed on Earth less than six hours ago.\n \n In the end, he did call room service and the machine was trundled in. Doran swallowed the pill and donned the conditioner helmet without an instant's hesitation.\n \n \"I shall never reveal to any person unauthorized by yourself whatever you may tell me under security, now or at any other time,\" he recited. Then, cheerfully: \"And that formula, Pete, happens to be the honest-to-zebra truth.\"\n \n \"I know.\" Matheny stared, embarrassed, at the carpet. \"I'm sorry to—to—I mean of course I trust you, but—\"\n \n \"Forget it. I take a hundred security oaths a year, in my line of work. Maybe I can help you. I like you, Pete, damn if I don't. And, sure, I might stand to get an agent's cut, if I arrange—Go ahead, boy, go ahead.\" Doran crossed his legs and leaned back.\n \n \"Oh, it's simple enough,\" said Matheny. \"It's only that we already are operating con games.\"\n \n \"On Mars, you mean?\"\n \n \"Yes. There never were any Old Martians. We erected the ruins fifty years ago for the Billingsworth Expedition to find. We've been manufacturing relics ever since.\"\n \n \" Huh? Well, why, but—\"\n \n \"In this case, it helps to be at the far end of an interplanetary haul,\" said Matheny. \"Not many Terrestrial archeologists get to Mars and they depend on our people to—Well, anyhow—\"\n \n \"I will be clopped! Good for you!\"\n \n \n\n \n Doran blew up in laughter. \"That is one thing I would never spill, even without security. I told you about my girl friend, didn't I?\"\n \n \"Yes, and that calls to mind the Little Girl,\" said Matheny apologetically. \"She was another official project.\"\n \n \"Who?\"\n \n \"Remember Junie O'Brien? The little golden-haired girl on Mars, a mathematical prodigy, but dying of an incurable disease? She collected Earth coins.\"\n \n \"Oh, that. Sure, I remember—Hey! You didn't!\"\n \n \"Yes. We made about a billion dollars on that one.\"\n \n \"I will be double damned. You know, Pete, I sent her a hundred-buck piece myself. Say, how is Junie O'Brien?\"\n \n \"Oh, fine. Under a different name, she's now our finance minister.\" Matheny stared out the wall, his hands twisting nervously behind his back. \"There were no lies involved. She really does have a fatal disease. So do you and I. Every day we grow older.\"\n \n \"Uh!\" exclaimed Doran.\n \n \"And then the Red Ankh Society. You must have seen or heard their ads.\n'What mysterious knowledge did the Old Martians possess? What was the secret wisdom of the Ancient Aliens? Now the incredibly powerful semantics of the Red Ankh (not a religious organization) is available to a select few—' That's our largest dollar-earning enterprise.\"\n \n He would have liked to say it was his suggestion originally, but it would have been too presumptuous. He was talking to an Earthman, who had heard everything already.\n \n Doran whistled.\n \n \"That's about all, so far,\" confessed Matheny. \"Perhaps a con is our only hope. I've been wondering, maybe we could organize a Martian bucket shop, handling Martian securities, but—well, I don't know.\"\n \n \"I think—\" Doran removed the helmet and stood up.\n \n \"Yes?\" Matheny faced around, shivering with his own tension.\n \n \"I may be able to find the man you want,\" said Doran. \"I just may. It will take a few days and might get a little expensive.\"\n \n \"You mean.... Mr. Doran—Gus—you could actually—\"\n \n \"I cannot promise anything yet except that I will try. Now you finish dressing. I will be down in the bar. And I will call up this girl I know. We deserve a celebration!\"", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "233c7980b9e241c8a76f35cc2eba25fe", "response_text": "Peter Matheny is a Martian sociodynamics professor sent to Earth on behalf of the Martian government under the guise of hiring an Earthman who can help manage and improve their export business. Armed with a hundred million dollars, his real mission is to find and enlist the service of a con man who can help the Martians concoct a securities scheme that will net greater profits than their current exports yield (the government hired him because of his experience formulating the Red Ankh Society scheme, which offered to sell bogus wisdom of the Old Martians). Peter is accustomed to the largely-empty deserts of Mars and enjoys the serenity of smoking a pipe while stargazing behind his small home in addition to other quiet hobbies such as reading, playing chess, and collecting minerals. When he arrives on Earth, he feels out of his element and uncomfortable due to the heavy, humid air and massive towers and neon lights he encounters in the crowded city, so he seeks a place where he can sit. He finds a place called \"The Church of Choice,\" where, to his delight, he discovers a number of gambling games in progress despite the ban on such activities on Earth. Because the Martian Constitution specifically allows for gambling, Peter partakes and shoots a successful game of craps. However, he expresses confusion about Earth rules for craps, since the Martian version employs a number of tricks and cheats. After the game, Peter feels uncomfortable again and tries to leave, but he is stopped by a man named Gus Doran, who takes him out for drinks. During their conversation, Peter tells Gus about the struggles of the Martian economy and explains how high Earth taxes and greedy middlemen have cut into the profits from their exports. Over the course of a few more drinks, Peter tells Gus about several frauds the Martians developed in an effort to bolster their economy and accidentally reveals his true intentions for visiting Earth to Gus. This information intrigues Gus who informs Peter that he has contacts that may be able to help. To ensure Peter's trust, Gus uses an oath box and promises not to tell anyone what he learned from Peter that night. Gus then suggests they celebrate by inviting some women to their hotel, and he leaves to make a phone call. He calls his business partner Peri, who is preparing to go on a date with a wealthy marijuana rancher. Gus convinces her to cancel the date and join him at the hotel so that together they can take advantage of Peter's amenability and hustle him out of a million dollars."}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "14fe04effbd74a1795dfdbf89b2db7ec", "response_text": "Peri tries to look sexy as she answers the visiphone and realizes it’s Gus Doran on the other end. Gus is unhappy to hear that Peri has a date scheduled with a wealthy Indonesian man, and he tries to convince her to go out with a Martian instead. The Martian has a hundred million dollars available to freely spend, and Gus wants Peri to get some of that cash. She agrees.\n\nPeter Matheny arrives at the United Protectorates on Earth and shows his paperwork to enter the country. He is there on a recruiting mission, and the official advises him to head to the rural areas because no one in the cities would ever leave Earth. Peter walks through the city and wonders why he has been given this assignment. He’s a professor of sociodynamics, and although he has advised the Martian government before, he’s not sure he’s equipped for the gig. He is supposed to find a con man that will work on Mars.\n\nPeter enters the Church of Choice and begins to gamble even though it’s illegal on Earth. When he tries to pick his chips up, he is reminded that he’s not really gambling. He’s at church! Peter is embarrassed and relieved when Gus comes up to him and asks him to have a drink. Gus asks Peter about his background as an Earthman on Mars, and Peter provides Gus with information about why the Martians are so poor and all of the rackets and taxes that make living there and making a livable wage difficult. He explains that he’s on Earth to find someone that can help the Martian people figure out how to appeal to Earthmen to bring in some capital to the red planet. After a few alcoholic drinks, Peter admits that Mars needs a true con-man that can make them lots of money. Gus offers to give Peter some of his acquaintances’ contact information so that he may make some connections. \n \nGus suggests that the two men go get a hotel room, and they book a room at the Jupiter-Astoria. While there, Peter confesses that he wants to tell Gus more about his mission, but he can’t unless Gus promises to keep everything a secret. They call room service for an oath box, and Gus agrees to keep everything hush-hush. Afterwards, Peter admits that the only way the Martians currently make money is through cons. Instead of selling precious Martian relics, they actually just manufacture them at scale and lie to consumers about their value. He also confesses that Junie O’Brien, a little Martian girl who was dying, was a ploy to get Earthmen to send them money. Finally, he reveals that the Red Ankh Society, a group that claims to have knowledge handed down from the Old Martians, is also a con. Gus says that he may have just the right person for this job, but first they need to call the girls and celebrate. \n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "47bb458a99a94b6e950965c4ff4ec1a5", "response_text": "Peter Matheny is a college professor on Mars who is sent to Earth on a diplomatic mission to find a con man to run a con game for the planet so that it can make a lot of money, but his cover story is that he is looking for a business manager for Martian trade. Unbeknownst to him, an Earth con man, Gus Doran, has learned of his arrival and his expense budget of one hundred million dollars and plans to get at least one million dollars from him. He contacts his associate, Peri, a sultry blonde who has luxurious gifts from men she dates, and makes plans for her to be Peter’s date that evening. Matheny first enters The Church of Choice where parishoners can “Enter, Play, and Pray.” It offers gambling, a restaurant, and a bar. He plays a crap game and draws attention when he continually rolls a seven; he thinks the game hasn’t started but has been winning over and over. When Matheny leaves the table, Gus Doran introduces himself and reminds Matheny he left his chips on the table, then invites him for a drink. Matheny appreciates Doran’s company, and the two discuss tourism between Earth and Mars. Matheny focuses on the Martian economy and the need to build it up by attracting more Earth dollars. Mars makes very little money on its exports due to taxes, shipping fees, and so forth, and few tourists from Earth go there because they know the air is harder to breathe, and there are no big cities with entertainment venues, just small towns, villages, and ranches amidst scrub and desert. Mars has dabbled in multiple business ventures to make money, but most have yielded little profit. Matheny tells Doran that what Mars really wants is to operate a sweepstakes. Doran keeps Matheny drinking beer and wins his confidence until Matheny tells him his real purpose, to find someone to run a world-size con game. Doran checks Matheny into the Jupiter-Astoria and arranges for Peri to come to the room, and he tells Matheny he has some contacts who can help him find the person he needs. He even orders an oath box from room service, takes the pill, and puts on the conditioner helmet; then he states the oath that he will not tell anyone what Matheny tells him. Matheny tells him that the current Martians are already running a con game; they built their “ancient” ruins for the Billingsworth Expedition to find and manufacture the relics they sell. He also tells Matheny about another con, a little girl on Mars who was a mathematical prodigy but dying of an incurable disease. She collected Earth coins, and sympathetic people sent a billion dollars. The “little girl” is now their finance minister, and her incurable disease was aging. He also admits the Red Ankh Society is a modern creation. Doran says he thinks he can help Matheny find his con man. \n\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "77956a1fd5e342569e5686680bbd35c2", "response_text": "Esteemed-escort, Peri, is dressing for a date with Mr. Sastro when she receives a call from Gus Doran. He informs her of a Martian who will pay even more than this heir may and who’s a little unfamiliar with Earth terms. After some bickering, she agrees on 500,000 for payment and calls off the date. Moving backward in time, Peter Matheny arrives on Earth and is questioned by the passport official. He gives him a half-truth and quickly moves on. Matheny was sent to Earth to hire a conman for Mars. Mars has been struggling financially for years now, and their biggest economic ploys are all schemes. \nMatheny stands out on Earth, unaccustomed to the gravity and air here. As well, his clothes are 40-years out of style and mark him as a Martian. Being a professor, Matheny isn’t entirely sure why sent him, but he did devise the Red Ankh Society, one of their schemes. He enters the Church of Choice and decided to play a game of crap. He wants to play for money, but the other churchgoers ward him off. He leaves embarrassed and runs into Gus Doran who brought him his chips. They grab a drink at Paul Bunyan Knotty Pine Bar & Grill, but not before Matheny had already blabbed about half his business. Doran covers the drinks: a beer for Matheny and a whiskey sour for himself. They drink and talk about the Martian economy and how their goods may be pricey, but the real profit is nowhere near as high. Matheny, a little tipsy, tells Doran that they’re looking for an Earth executive, someone who’d make a hundred megabucks a year on a five-year contract. He mentions as well that he has extra money for expenses on Earth, which draws Doran in. Doran reveals he has connections, so Matheny tells him they need a con man. \nThey leave for the Jupiter-Astoria where they encounter sexual chairs. Doran suggests they get a girl, most likely with Peri in mind, and he tells Matheny to get some new clothes. Doran tells Matheny again he has contacts, so Matheny makes him swear under an oath box before he will reveal their true secrets. After, Matheny tells him about their schemes, from the Red Ankh Society to Junie O’Brien. Doran thinks he has the man for Matheny, but first, he suggests going to the bar to celebrate with a girl. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the setting of the story?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "233c7980b9e241c8a76f35cc2eba25fe", "response_text": "There are several locations where key events in the story take place including Peri's residence, the immigration office, the Earth city, the Church of Choice, Paul Bunyan Knotty Pine Bar & Grill, and the Jupiter-Astoria hotel. In addition, at various points throughout the narrative, Peter recalls life on Mars, which is covered with deserts and scrub thorn and an atmosphere with drier air and lesser gravity compared to Earth's humidity and strong gravitation. Martian society is largely rural with very small towns and villages, and their weeks are different than those on Earth; they have a day called \"Tenthday\" when Peter likes to play poker with his coworkers, and he sometimes visits a place called Swindletown. Peter often notes the differences between Earth's commercialism and reliance upon automation and Mars' more calm, individualistic society. Peter is overwhelmed by the bright, neon lights, massive towers, and sheer amount of vehicles and people in the city where he arrives on Earth and longs for his small cottage and rock garden back on Mars. To navigate the city, Peter takes cabs, and to access the different levels of the towers, he utilizes the ramp system. Looking for a place to sit, Peter finds The Church of Choice, which seems to be an establishment where people can drink and gamble, although gambling is illegal on Earth. The Church of Choice features craps tables, roulette wheels, and even Bingo and has a large, marble lobby at its entrance that leads into a number of dim rooms with Gothic architecture. After meeting Gus there, the two leave and share drinks at Paul Bunyan Knotty Pine Bar & Grill, a place where diners can talk in private sitting at soundproof booths while enjoying a strip show. The carpeted hotel room he shares with Gus at the Jupiter-Astoria has a pneumatic device that can deliver drinks straight from the bar along with anything else someone may require, such as the oath box Gus uses to cement Peter's trust in him. There is also a bathroom and a \"sexy type of furniture\" that operates like a massage chair."}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "14fe04effbd74a1795dfdbf89b2db7ec", "response_text": "The story is set on a city on Earth. Peter Matheny, a college professor, arrives from Mars to find a con-man that can help make Mars a more economically viable place to live. The city on Earth is a shock to Peter. It has neon lights, enormous crowds, and people wearing brightly colored pajamas on the streets. The sky is impossible to see because of the pollution, and the hundreds of buildings are incredibly tall. \n\nPeter refers to Earth as the \"greatest commercial empire the human race has ever seen,\" and everywhere he turns he sees businesses that make loads of money and people opening up their wallets for a good time. People appear only in groups, and they are very organized as if their only true purpose is to band together and collect capital. \n\nPeter goes to the Church of Choice hoping to gamble, but he quickly learns that although the place sells chips like a true gambling parlor, it's all for fun. Later, Peter checks into the Jupiter-Astoria hotel and is impressed by the sexy furniture and expensive-looking fixtures. \n\nEarth is essentially the exact opposite of Mars, where people live in small cottages and have a difficult time making money. There are no major businesses other than the cons that the embassy creates like children with fake diseases that need to collect money for their medical services and mass manufactured Martian relics. \n\n\n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "47bb458a99a94b6e950965c4ff4ec1a5", "response_text": "The story takes place on Earth in the hot, humid month of August. Men wear colorful clothes and are described as looking like“a rainbow” dressed in pajamas and the women as wearing Neo-Sino dresses and goldleaf hats. There is a lot of traffic, and in larger cities, there are multi-colored towers half a mile high that block the stars and moon. Gambling is illegal, but churches make gambling available. There is a lively entertainment industry with nightclubs, bars, strip clubs, etc., in large cities like Newer York. There are provincial, less industrialized regions as well, such as Russia and Congolese Belgium, which some people refer to as the sticks.   \t\nOn Mars, life is more peaceful. Matheny enjoys the quiet rock garden behind his cottage where he can smoke his pipe with Orion for company—when the temperature isn’t too far below zero. People who live there have changed to have longer legs and an expanded chest as a result of the gravity, and the atmosphere makes it harder to hear sounds. Mars has a civilized society with universities, a central government, and specialized organizations such as the Red Ankh Society. Mars lacks much of the technology that exists on Earth, specifically the automation to bring any service you want to you on a twenty-four-hour basis. On Mars, gambling is legal, in part because it relieves the sheer boredom of the deserts. People cheat, and organizations offering gambling have systems that astute players can figure out. Matheny frequently mentions that Mars has a dollar shortage or is poor and suggests that Earth should send tourists to Mars, but Doran points out that the people who do go to Mars come back and complain that there is barely enough air to survive there and that there are no cities, just small towns, villages, and ranches. The landscape is mainly dust, sand, and thorn scrub. Mars needs equipment and supplies from Earth. Whatever Mars exports to Earth requires enormous costs to ship, and after wholesalers and retailers, salespeople, advertisers, and taxes are paid, there is very little profit left. The planet is able to produce paper products, such as postcards, travel posters, and books. It has resorted to con schemes to make more money.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "77956a1fd5e342569e5686680bbd35c2", "response_text": "The story takes place on Earth, far into the future where some humans have already begun to colonize Mars. This new Earth is outfitted with modern technology and some Martian goods, like thyle. Gambling and other immoral acts are illegal, though they are not on Mars. The air is much heavier on Earth than Mars, and people tend to travel in packs. Busy and crowded, the city never sleeps and is filled to the brim with stylish people. \nOne scene takes place in the Church of Choice, which has a restaurant upstairs and play-gambling to the left. All chips purchased are contributions to the church, and the games feature crap, bingo, and other card games. At the bar, Doran and Matheny are seated in a noise-controlled section, where curtains block out most other sounds, ensuring their privacy. The Jupiter Astoria faces beautiful tall towers, and it houses chairs that are designed to wrap around those sitting in them. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Gus Doran and what is his role in the story?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "233c7980b9e241c8a76f35cc2eba25fe", "response_text": "Gus is a con artist who works with Peri and Sam Wendt to primarily target wealthy, powerful men and extort money from them. He is short, chisel-faced, has slicked-back hair, and wears blue pajamas with a red zigzag, a sleighbell cloak, and slippers. When the story begins, Peri is preparing to go on a date with the heir apparent of Indonesia, Inc. who is also a wealthy marijuana rancher, supposedly to use him for money. Gus convinces her to change her plans to help him swindle Peter since he has discovered Peter has a hundred million dollars at his disposal and appears to be susceptible to Gus's charming and manipulative ways. Gus goads Peter into confessing his secret by providing him with beer and akvavit and gains his trust by wearing the helmet attached to the oath box. At the end of the story, Gus agrees to help Peter find his confidence man by utilizing his network of underworld contacts, but instead calls Peri to begin implementing his con."}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "14fe04effbd74a1795dfdbf89b2db7ec", "response_text": "Gus is a con-man who works with a woman named Peri. He uses his natural charisma to speak to men with money and try to get them to call Peri to have a little fun with her. His research and his ability to talk to all kinds of people puts her in touch with wealthy individuals that spend a lot of money on her. She then splits the profits with Gus. Gus introduces himself to Peter because he seems out of place at the Church of Choice. He can tell by his old clothes and height that he is a Martian, and he acts as though he is genuinely interested in learning about Peter's life on Mars and his business mission. The reality is that Gus sees that Peter is an oddball and decides to learn more about him in case he would make a good victim. Through his conversations with Peter, he learns that he is working for the Martian government, and he decides to hook Peter up with Peri so that they can take advantage of Peter's naivety. "}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "47bb458a99a94b6e950965c4ff4ec1a5", "response_text": "Gus Doran is a confidence man on Earth. He knows Peri and uses her “services” for individuals with a lot of money whom he thinks he can use for his own personal gains. He interacts directly with the “mark” to gain the man’s confidence, lower his defenses, and trick him into giving part of his money to Doran. At the story’s beginning, Doran arranges for Peri to be available for the Martian diplomat with the hundred million dollar expense account. Doran intends to win the man’s confidence and then bilk him of one million dollars. Gus “meets” Peter Matheny, the diplomat from Mars, at the gaming tables of the church and invites him to have a drink. Gus wins Matheny’s confidence so that Matheny reveals the dollar deficit that Mars is experiencing and the planet’s desire to hire a manager to help it build up its tourist industry. One way Gus builds this confidence is through empathetic responses. Matheny reveals that while Mars produces vermouth that is bought and served on Earth, he can’t stand the stuff. Gus responds that he can’t stand the stuff either but has always been afraid to admit it. Matheny explains that Mars has very little profit after paying the engineers, salespeople, advertisers, and Earth taxes on its exports, and Gus acts as if he is a small-time business consultant and says maybe he can help Matheny, all the while planning to take Matheny’s money. When Matheny suggests there is more he could tell him, Gus offers to use an oath box, swallows the pill, and dons the helmet to confirm that he is honest and trustworthy. When Matheny eventually admits that Mars wants a con man to run a worldwide con, Gus indicates he can help him find someone to do it.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "77956a1fd5e342569e5686680bbd35c2", "response_text": "Gus Doran is an Earthman who just happens to know a lot of Earthmen. He runs into Peter Matheny, a visiting Martian, and soon realizes that he can have a hell of a time with this guy. Doran serves as Matheny’s tour guide and takes him to a bar and a hotel where he can stay. When he realizes that Matheny is looking for an Earthman to serve as an executive for Mars (essentially a conman), he sees potential there. Once he realizes that Matheny has millions of dollars to spend on expenses here, he sees even more potential there. Doran propels Matheny forward and takes this slightly lost Martian on a wild journey. As well, he promises Matheny that he knows someone who could be the perfect person for this position. Doran also knows Peri, an escort, who will presumably make an entrance later on in the story. "}]}, {"question_text": "What is the significance of the Red Ankh Society?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "233c7980b9e241c8a76f35cc2eba25fe", "response_text": "The Red Ankh Society is a con devised by Peter for the Martian government as a way to boost their economy. People paid for the exclusive privilege of access to the secrets and ancient wisdom of the Old Martians; in reality, these were just bogus semantics compiled for the sake of earning large amounts of money. However, the existence of the Red Ankh Society reveals quite a bit about Mars, the role of cons in the story, and even Peter himself. During Peter's discussion with Gus, we learn the Martians are descended from Earthmen who preferred greater freedom than was offered by the United Protectorate and moved to Mars to establish a life there. They work to make the planet habitable and attractive to tourists, but the process is slow because they cannot afford the equipment and power plants required to build on a scale that will attract the necessary amount of visitors needed to turn a profit. This leads the government to resort to drastic measures; they wield their skills at playing tricks and cheating at gambling (they even have a city called Swindletown) to implement a number of schemes meant to draw in vast amounts of cash such as the Red Ankh Society, the construction and sale of phony ancient relics and ruins, and the saga of Junie O'Brien (a little girl whose fake illness raised a billion dollars for the planet). This leads the government to send Peter to Earth in order to purchase the services of a con man who can help implement a new scheme to sell Martian securities. This trip introduces Peter to Gus, who begins work on a plan to swindle Peter out of a million dollars."}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "14fe04effbd74a1795dfdbf89b2db7ec", "response_text": "The Red Ankh society is one of may cons that Peter has come up with to help the Martian government make money. The Society claims to have secret knowledge from ancient aliens, and people who purchase a membership into the Society can get their hands on the information that the old Martians had. Peter admits that he himself came up with this con, and although it has made some money for the planet, it just isn't enough. The Martian embassy is looking for an Earthman who can help the Martians trick the other Earthmen into investing in Mars or perhaps creating a tourist industry there, although there's really nothing worth seeing. The Red Ankh Society is emblematic of the way the Martians make money: by tricking Earthmen into believing that Mars is mysterious and interesting and purchasing items that truly hold no value. "}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "47bb458a99a94b6e950965c4ff4ec1a5", "response_text": "Peter Matheny, a sociodynamics professor at Devil’s Kettle University, is the person who came up with the idea for the Red Ankh Society, which was established as a money-making venture for Mars, and he was selected for the mission to Earth because of this idea. The Society advertises that it can pass on the “mysterious knowledge” of the Old Martians and possesses the “secret wisdom of the Ancient Aliens.” The organization is a fake, but it has become the top dollar-earning business on Mars. While Mars lags behind Earth in its earning capacity, this organization generates more money for Mars than any other business. This scam is just one of several that Mars has used to make money.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "77956a1fd5e342569e5686680bbd35c2", "response_text": "The Red Ankh Society was a ploy developed by Peter Matheny to bring more capital to the Martian Nation. This scheme involved producing advertisements, both visual and auditory, that told stories of the Ancient Aliens of Mars. This older generation supposedly had lots of wisdom to share with a select audience. The Red Ankh Society was only available to the few people willing to pay the steep price for it to uncover more secrets about the ancient Martians. This Society is significant because it is one of the reasons the Martian government chose creator Peter Matheny for this job on Earth, and it shows what schemes and ploys the Martians must come up with in order to make money. "}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Peri and what is her role in the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "233c7980b9e241c8a76f35cc2eba25fe", "response_text": "Peri is Gus Doran's business associate along with someone named Sam Wendt. The three of them operate an enterprise centering on Peri's ability to attract rich and powerful men and swindle them for cash. Peri has golden blonde hair and silver-blue eyes and a light complexion, and she has a private phone number she gives to men involved in the group's schemes. At the beginning of the story, she wears a dinner gown as she prepares to go on a date with a marijuana rancher, who is also the heir apparent to Indonesia, Inc. When she receives a phone call, she changes from her gown into a more casual bathrobe, thinking one of her many suitors is calling her and wants to make him feel special. However, the casualness of the bathrobe is misleading as it is worth thousands of dollars and was given to her by a representative of the Antarctic Enterprise. She even tousles up her coiffed hair to complete the image. When she realizes it is only Gus Doran calling, she grows impatient and drops her facade. On the call with Gus, she learns of his introduction to Peter Matheny, and together they agree on a scheme to extort a million dollars from him. Gus wants to split the cash evenly between the three of them, but Peri insists on fifty percent for her share. She cancels the date with the marijuana rancher and prepares to go meet Gus and Peter at the Jupiter-Astoria."}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "14fe04effbd74a1795dfdbf89b2db7ec", "response_text": "Peri is Gus's girl, and she makes money for herself and for him by making rich men feel important and worthy of her time. When she first enters the story, she is barely dressed in a robe and purposefully places some blond hair in front of her eyes to look demure for a video call. Although she already has a date with a wealthy man scheduled for that evening, she changes her mind when Gus tells her that he has a Martian who's holding millions of dollars and wants to see her. Gus originally offers Peri one-third of the takeaway, but she insists that she gets half of the pot of money. Gus makes the connections with the wealthy guys, but it's Peri who ultimately takes advantage of them and gets them to fork over their money. "}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "47bb458a99a94b6e950965c4ff4ec1a5", "response_text": "Peri seems to be a high-class call girl who collaborates with others to scam men out of their money. She has a casual bathrobe which cost several thousand dollars and was given to her by either the president of Antarctic Enterprise or the chairman of the board; she has had so many “dates” that she has difficulty keeping them straight. When her visiphone chimes, she preps herself to look sultry, slipping out of her dinner gown and into the robe, fixing her hair just so, and making sure the robe is loose around the top and tight around the hips. When she answers the call, she says she is sorry to keep the caller waiting but that she was just taking a bath; this suggestive information is meant to lure in her caller. The caller is Gus Doran, who is her scam associate. He tells her that she has a date that night with a backwoods Martian, a man who lacks sophistication but who has come to Earth as a Martian diplomat with a large expense budget of one hundred million dollars. Peri tells Gus that she is having dinner with the heir apparent of Indonesia, Inc. Gus tells Peri he thinks they can get one million dollars from the Martian and states Peri’s cut will be one-third of that. Peri interrupts him and states that her share will be half a million dollars and that she has a headache that will prevent her from seeing the heir apparent of Indonesia, Inc. After Gus “befriends” the Martian diplomat and earns his trust, he gets the Martian drunk and suggests inviting a girl he knows to help them celebrate their upcoming business arrangement of a con man to work for Mars; the girl is Peri. We can assume she will help Gus make his deal that will provide a million-dollar payout that they will split. \n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "77956a1fd5e342569e5686680bbd35c2", "response_text": "Peri is a highly-esteemed and very expensive escort, based on her clothing alone. The casual bathrobe she puts on to answer a call probably cost several thousand dollars. Although she was supposed to meet with Mr. Sastro tonight, the heir apparent of Indonesia, Inc. and marijuana rancher, Doran persuades her to meet with Matheny instead. She is drawn in by Matheny’s excessive funds for his visit to Mars. She and Doran come up with a plan called “Badger,” which involves another fellow called Sam Wendt, presumably to steal all of Matheny’s money. Peri is the escort promised to Matheny by Doran, and presumably a con-woman herself. "}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "63916", "uid": "3f1957295df143df9d76fb3356cff830", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "The CONJURER of VENUS\n \n\n By CONAN T. TROY\n \n A world-famed Earth scientist had disappeared on Venus. When Johnson found him, he found too the secret to that globe-shaking mystery—the fabulous Room of The Dreaming.\n \n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories November 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n \n The city dripped with rain. Crossing the street toward the dive, Johnson got rain in his eyes, his nose, and his ears. That was the way with the rain here. It came at you from all directions. There had been occasions when Johnson had thought the rain was falling straight up. Otherwise, how had the insides of his pants gotten wet?\n \n On Venus, everything came at you from all directions, it seemed to Johnson. Opening the door of the joint, it was noise instead of rain that came at him, the wild frantic beat of a Venusian rhumba, the notes pounding and jumping through the smoke and perfume clouded room. Feeling states came at him, intangible, but to his trained senses, perceptible emotional nuances of hate, love, fear, and rage. But mostly love. Since this place had been designed to excite the senses of both humans and Venusians, the love feelings were heavily tinged with straight sex. He sniffed at them, feeling them somewhere inside of him, aware of them but aware also that here was apprehension, and plain fear.\n \n Caldwell, sitting in a booth next to the door, glanced up as Johnson entered but neither Caldwell's facial expression or his eyes revealed that he had ever seen this human before. Nor did Johnson seem to recognize Caldwell.\n \n \"Is the mighty human wanting liquor, a woman or dreams?\" His voice was all soft syllables of liquid sound. The Venusian equivalent of a headwaiter was bowing to him.\n \n \"I'll have a tarmur to start,\" Johnson said. \"How are the dreams tonight?\"\n \n \"Ze vill be the most wonserful of all sonight. The great Unger hisself will be here to do ze dreaming. There is no ozzer one who has quite his touch at dreaming, mighty one.\" The headwaiter spread his hands in a gesture indicating ecstasy. \"It is my great regret that I must do ze work tonight instead of being wiz ze dreamers. Ah, ze great Unger hisself!\" The headwaiter kissed the tips of his fingers.\n \n \"Um,\" Johnson said. \"The great Unger!\" His voice expressed surprise, just the right amount of it. \"I'll have a tarmur to start but when does the dreaming commence?\"\n \n \"In one zonar or maybe less. Shall I make ze reservations for ze mighty one?\" As he was speaking, the headwaiter was deftly conducting Johnson to the bar.\n \n \"Not just yet,\" Johnson said. \"See me a little later.\"\n \n \"But certainly.\" The headwaiter was gone into the throng. Johnson was at the bar. Behind it, a Venusian was bowing to him. \"Tarmur,\" Johnson said. The green drink was set before him. He held it up to the light, admiring the slow rise of the tiny golden bubbles in it. To him, watching the bubbles rise was perhaps more important than drinking itself.\n \n \"Beautiful, aren't they?\" a soft voice said. He glanced to his right. A girl had slid into the stool beside him. She wore a green dress cut very low at the throat. Her skin had the pleasant tan recently on Earth. Her hair was a shade of abundant brown and her eyes were blue, the color of the skies of Earth. A necklace circled her throat and below the necklace ... Johnson felt his pulse quicken, for two reasons. Women such as this one had been quickening the pulse of men since the days of Adam. The second reason concerned her presence here in this place where no woman in her right mind ever came unescorted. Her eyes smiled up at him unafraid. Didn't she know there were men present here in this space port city who would snatch her bodily from the bar stool and carry her away for sleeping purposes? And Venusians were here who would cut her pretty throat for the sake of the necklace that circled it?\n \n \"They are beautiful,\" he said, smiling.\n \n \"Thank you.\"\n \n \"I was referring to the bubbles.\"\n \n \"You were talking about my eyes,\" she answered, unperturbed.\n \n \"How did you know? I mean....\"\n \n \"I am very knowing,\" the girl said, smiling.\n \n \"Are you sufficiently knowing to be here?\"\n \n For an instant, as if doubt crossed her mind, the smile flickered. Then it came again, stronger. \"Aren't you here?\"\n \n Johnson choked as bubbles from the tarmur seemed to go suddenly up his nose. \"My dear child ...\" he sputtered.\n \n \"I am not a child,\" she answered with a firm sureness that left no doubt in his mind that she knew what she was saying. \"And my name is Vee Vee.\"\n \n \"Vee Vee? Um. That is....\"\n \n \"Don't you think it's a nice name?\"\n \n \"I certainly do. Probably the rest of it is even nicer.\"\n \n \"There is no more of it. Just Vee Vee. Like Topsy, I just grew.\"\n \n \n\n \n \"What the devil are you doing here on Venus and here in this place?\"\n \n \"Growing.\" The blue eyes were unafraid.\n \n Sombrely, Johnson regarded her. What was she doing here? Was she in the employ of the Venusians? If she was being planted on him, then his purpose here was suspected. He shrugged the thought aside. If his purpose here was suspected, there would be no point in planting a woman on him.\n \n There would only be the minor matter of slipping a knife into his back.\n \n In this city, as on all of Venus, humans died easily. No one questioned the motives of the killer.\n \n \"You look as if you were considering some very grave matter,\" Vee Vee said.\n \n \"Not any longer,\" he laughed.\n \n \"You have decided them?\"\n \n \"Yes.\"\n \n \"Every last one of them?\"\n \n \"Oh, there might be one or two matters undecided somewhere, say out on the periphery of the galaxy. But we will solve them when we get to them.\" He waved vaguely toward the roof and the sky of space hidden behind the clouds that lay over the roof, glanced around as a man eased himself into an empty stool on his left. The man was Caldwell.\n \n \"Zlock!\" Caldwell said, to the bartender. \"Make it snappy. Gotta have zlock. Finest damn drink in the solar system.\" Caldwell's voice was thick, his tongue heavy. Johnson's eyes went back to the girl but out of the corner of them he watched Caldwell's hand lying on the bar. The fingers were beating a quick nervous tattoo on the yellow wood.\n \n \"I haven't seen him,\" Caldwell's fingers beat out their tattoo. \"But I think he is, or was, here.\"\n \n \"Um,\" Johnson said, his eyes on Vee Vee. \"How—\"\n \n \"Because that girl was asking for him,\" Caldwell's fingers answered.\n\"Watch that girl!\" Picking up the zlock, he lurched away from the bar.\n \n \"Your friend is not as drunk as he seems,\" Vee Vee said, watching Caldwell.\n \n \"My friend? Do you mean that drunk? I never saw him—\"\n \n \"Lying is one of the deadly sins.\" Her eyes twinkled at him. Under the merriment that danced in them there was ice. Johnson felt cold.\n \n \"The reservations for ze dreaming, great one?\" The headwaiter was bowing and scraping in front of him. \"The great one has decided, yes?\"\n \n \"The dreaming!\" Vee Vee looked suddenly alert. \"Of course. We must see the dreaming. Everyone wants to see the dreaming. We will go, won't we darling?\" She hooked her hand into Johnson's elbow.\n \n \"Certainly,\" Johnson said. The decision was made on the spur of the moment. That there was danger in it, he did not doubt. But there might be something else. And he might be there.\n \n \"Oh. But very good. Ze great Unger, you will love him!\" The headwaiter clutched the gold coins that Johnson extended, bowed himself out of sight.\n \n \"Say, I want to know more—\" Johnson began. His words were drowned in a blast of trumpets. The band that had been playing went into sudden silence. Waves of perfume began to flow into the place. The perfumes were blended, but one aroma was prominent among them, the sweet, cloying, soul-stirring perfume of the Dreamer.\n \n In the suddenly hushed place little sounds began to appear as Venusians and humans began to shift their feet and their bodies in anticipation of what was to happen.\n \n The trumpets flared again.\n \n On one side of the place, a big door began to swing slowly open. From beyond that slowly opening door came music, soft, muted strains that sounded like lutes from heaven.\n \n Vee Vee, her hand on Johnson's elbow, rose. Johnson stood up with her. He got the surprise of his life as her fingers clenched, digging into his muscles. Pain shot through his arm, paralyzing it and almost paralyzing him. He knew instantly that she was using the Karmer nerve block paralysis on him. His left hand moved with lightning speed, the tips of his fingers striking savagely against her shoulder.\n \n She gasped, her face whitened as pain shot through her in response to the thrust of his finger tips. Her hand that had been digging into his elbow lost its grip, dropped away and hung limp at her side. Grabbing it, she began to massage it.\n \n \"You—you—\" Hot anger and shock were in her voice. \"You're the first man I ever knew who could break the Karmer nerve paralysis.\"\n \n \"And you're the first woman who ever tried it on me.\"\n \n \"But—\"\n \n \"Shall we go watch the dreaming?\" He took the arm that still hung limp at her side and tucked it into his elbow.\n \n \"If you try to use the Karmer grip on me again I'll break your arm,\" he said. His voice was low but there was a wealth of meaning in it.\n \n \"I won't do it again,\" the girl said stoutly. \"I never make the same mistake twice.\"\n \n \"Good,\" Johnson said.\n \n \"The second time we break our victim's neck,\" Vee Vee said.\n \n \"What a sweet, charming child you—\"\n \n \"I told you before, I'm not a child.\"\n \n \"Child vampire,\" Johnson said. \"Let me finish my sentences before you interrupt.\"\n \n She was silent. A smile, struggling to appear on her face, seemed to say she held no malice. Her fingers tightened on Johnson's arm. He tensed, expecting the nerve block grip again. Instead with the tips of her fingers she gently patted his arm.\n \n \"There, there, darling, relax,\" she said. \"I know a better way to get you than by using the Karmer grip.\"\n \n \"What way?\"\n \n Her eyes sparkled. \"Eve's way,\" she answered.\n \n \"Um!\" Surprise sounded in his grunt. \"But apples don't grow on Venus.\"\n \n \"Eve's daughters don't use apples any more, darling. Come along.\"\n \n Moving toward the open door that led to the Room of the Dreaming, Johnson saw that Caldwell had risen and was following them. Caldwell's face was writhing in apprehensive agony and he was making warning signs. Johnson ignored them. With Vee Vee's fingers lightly patting his arm, they moved into the Room of the Dreaming.\n \n \n\n II\n \n It was a huge, semi-illumined room, with tier on tier of circling ramps rising up from an open space at the bottom. There ought to have been a stage there at the bottom, but there wasn't. Instead there was an open space, a mat, and a head rest. Up at the top of the circling ramps the room was in darkness, a fit hiding place for ghosts or Venusian werewolves. Pillows and a thick rug covered the circling ramps.\n \n The soul-quickening Perfume of the Dreamer was stronger here. The throbbing of the lutes was louder. It was Venusian music the lutes were playing. Human ears found it inharmonious at first, but as they became accustomed to it, they began to detect rhythms and melodies that human minds had not known existed. The room was pleasantly cool but it had the feel of dampness. A world that was rarely without pelting rain would have the feel of dampness in its dreaming rooms.\n \n The music playing strange harmonies in his ears, the perfume sending tingling feelings through his nose, Johnson entered the Room of the Dreamer. He suspected that other forces, unknown to him, were catching hold of his senses. He had been in dreaming rooms many times before but he had not grown accustomed to them. He wondered if any human ever did. A touch of chill always came over him as he crossed the threshold. In entering these places, it was as if some unknown nerve center inside the human organism was touched by something, some force, some radiation, some subtlety, that quite escaped radiation. He felt the coldness now.\n \n Vee Vee's fingers left off patting his arm.\n \n \"Do you feel it, darling?\"\n \n \"Yes.\"\n \n \"What is it?\"\n \n \"How would I know?\"\n \n \"Please!\" Her voice grew sharp. \"I think Johnny Johnson ought to know.\"\n \n \"Johnny! How do you know my name?\"\n \n \"Shouldn't I recognize one of Earth's foremost scientists, even if he is incognito on Venus?\" Her voice had a teasing quality in it.\n \n \"But—\"\n \n \"And who besides Johnny Johnson would recognize the Karmer nerve grip and be able to break it instantly?\"\n \n \"Hell—\"\n \n \"John Michael Johnson, known as Johnny to his friends, Earth's foremost expert in the field of electro-magnetic radiations within the human body!\" Her words were needles of icy fact, each one jabbing deeper and deeper into him.\n \n \"And how would I make certain you were Johnny Johnson, except by seeing if you could break the Karmer nerve grip? If you could break it, then there was no doubt who you were!\" Her words went on and on.\n \n \"Who are you?\" His words were blasts of sound.\n \n \"Please, darling, you are making a scene. I am sure this is the last thing you really want to do.\"\n \n He looked quickly around them. The Venusians and humans moving into this room seemed to be paying no attention to him. His gaze came back to her.\n \n Again she patted his arm. \"Relax, darling. Your secrets are safe with me.\"\n \n A gray color came up inside his soul. \"But—but—\" His voice was suddenly weak.\n \n The fingers on his arm were very gentle. \"No harm will come to you. Am I not with you?\"\n \n \"That's what I'm afraid of!\" he snapped at her. If he had had a choice, he might have drawn back. But with circumstances as they were—his life, Caldwell's life, possibly Vee Vee's life hung in the balance. Didn't she know that this was true? And as for Martin—But Caldwell had said that she had been asking about Martin. What connection did she have with that frantic human genius he sought here?\n \n Johnson felt his skin crawl. He moved toward a nest of cushions on a ramp, found a Venusian was beating him to them, deftly changed to another nest, found it. Vee Vee flowed to the floor on his right, moved cushions to make him more comfortable. She moved in an easy sort of way that was all flowing movement. He sat down. Someone bumped him on the left.\n \n \"Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bump into you.\" Caldwell's voice was still thick and heavy. He sprawled to the floor on Johnson's left. Under the man's coat, Johnson caught a glimpse of a slight bulge, the zit gun hidden there. His left arm pressed against his own coat, feeling his own zit gun. Operating under gas pressure, throwing a charge of gas-driven corvel, the zit guns were not only almost noiseless in operation but they knocked out a human or a Venusian in a matter of seconds.\n \n True, the person they knocked unconscious would be all right the next day. For this reason, many people did not regard the zit guns as effective weapons, but Johnson had a fondness for them. The feel of the little weapon inside his coat sent a surge of comfort through him.\n \n The music picked up a beat, perfume seemed to flow even more freely through the air, the lights dimmed almost to darkness, a single bright spotlight appeared in the ceiling, casting a circle of brilliant illumination on the mat and the headrest at the bottom of the room. The curtain rose.\n \n \n\n \n Unger stood in the middle of the spot of light.\n \n Johnson felt his chest muscles contract, then relax. Vee Vee's fingers sought his arm, not to harm him but running to him for protection. He caught the flutter of her breathing. On his left, Caldwell stiffened and became a rock.\n \n Johnson had not seen Unger appear. One second the circle of light had been empty, the next second the Venusian, smiling with all the impassivity of a bland Buddha, was in the light. He weighed three hundred pounds if he weighed an ounce, he was clad in a long robe that would impede movement. He had appeared in the bright beam of the spotlight as if by magic.\n \n Vee Vee's fingers dug deeper into Johnson's arm. \"How—\"\n \n \"Shhh. Nobody knows.\"\n \n No human knew the answer to that trick. Unless perhaps Martin—\n \n Unger bowed. A little ripple of something that was not quite sound passed through the audience. Unger bowed again. He stretched himself flat on the mat, adjusted the rest to support his head, and apparently went to sleep. Johnson saw the Dreamer's eyes close, watched the chest take on the even, regular rhythm of sleep.\n \n The music changed, a slow dreamy tempo crept into it. Vee Vee's fingers dug at Johnson's arm as if they were trying to dig under his hide for protection. She was shivering. He reached for her hand, patted it. She drew closer to him.\n \n A few minutes earlier, she had been a very certain young woman, able to take care of herself, and handle anyone around her. Now she was suddenly uncertain, suddenly scared. In the Room of the Dreaming, she had suddenly become a frightened child looking for protection.\n \n \"Haven't you ever seen this before?\" he whispered.\n \n \"N—o.\" She shivered again. \"Oh, Johnny....\"\n \n Under the circle of light pouring down from the ceiling, the Dreamer lay motionless. Johnson found himself with the tendency to hold his breath. He was waiting, waiting, waiting—for what? The whole situation was senseless, silly, but under its apparent lack of coherence, he sensed a pattern. Perhaps the path to the far-off stars passed this way, through such scented and musical and impossible places as these Rooms of the Dreamers. Certainly Martin thought so. And Johnson himself was not prepared to disagree.\n \n Around him, he saw that the Venusians were already going ... going ... going.... Some of them were already gone. This was an old experience to them. They went rapidly. Humans went more slowly.\n \n The Venusian watchers had relaxed. They looked as if they were asleep, perhaps in a hypnotic trance, lulled into this state by the music and the perfume, and by something else. It was this something else that sent Johnson's thoughts pounding. The Venusians were like opium smokers. But he was not smoking opium. He was not in a hypnotic trance. He was wide awake and very much alert. He was ...\n  watching a space ship float in an endless void .\n \n As Unger had come into the spotlight, so the space ship had come into his vision, out of nowhere, out of nothingness. The room, the Dreamer, the sound of the music, the sweetness of the perfume, Vee Vee and Caldwell were gone. They were no longer in his reality. They were not in the range of his vision. It was as if they did not exist. Yet he knew they did exist, the memory of them, and of other things, was out on the periphery of his universe, perhaps of the universe.\n \n All he saw was the space ship.\n \n It was a wonderful thing, perhaps the most beautiful sight he had seen in his life. At the sight of it, a deep glow sprang inside of him.\n \n Back when he had been a kid he had dreamed of flight to the far-off stars. He had made models of space ships. In a way, they had shaped his destiny, had made him what he was. They had brought him where he was this night, to the Dream Room of a Venusian tavern.\n \n The vision of the space ship floating in the void entranced and thrilled him. Something told him that this was real; that here and now he was making contact with a vision that belonged to time.\n \n He started to his feet. Fingers gripped his arm.\n \n \"Please, darling. You startled me. Don't move.\" Vee Vee's voice. Who was Vee Vee?\n \n The fingers dug into his arm. Pain came up in him. The space ship vanished. He looked with startled eyes at Vee Vee, at the Dream Room, at Unger, dreaming on the mat under the spot.\n \n \"You ... you startled me,\" Vee Vee whispered. She released the grip on his arm.\n \n \"But, didn't you see it?\"\n \n \"See what?\"\n \n \"The space ship!\"\n \n \"No. No.\" She seemed startled and a little terrified and half asleep.\n\"I ... I was watching something else. When you moved I broke contact with my dream.\"\n \n \"Your dream?\"\n \n He asked a question but she did not answer it. \"Sit down, darling, and look at your damned space ship.\" Her voice was a taut whisper of sound in the darkened room. Johnson settled down. A glance to his left told him that Caldwell was still sitting like a chunk of stone.... The Venusians were quiet. The music had shifted. A slow languorous beat of hidden drums filled the room. There was another sound present, a high-speed whirring. It was, somehow, a familiar sound, but Johnson had not heard it before in this place.\n \n He thought about the space ship he had seen.\n \n The vision would not come.\n \n He shook his head and tried again.\n \n Beside him, Vee Vee was silent, her face ecstatic, like the face of a woman in love.\n \n He tried again for the space ship.\n \n It would not come.\n \n Anger came up instead.\n \n Somehow he had the impression that the whirring sound which kept intruding into his consciousness was stopping the vision.\n \n So far as he could tell, he was the only one present who was not dreaming, who was not in a state of trance.\n \n His gaze went to Unger, the Dreamer....\n \n Cold flowed over him.\n \n Unger was slowly rising from the mat.\n \n The bland face and the body in the robe were slowly floating upward!\n \n \n\n III\n \n An invisible force seemed to twitch at Johnson's skin, nipping it here and there with a multitude of tiny pinches, like invisible fleas biting him.\n \n \"This is it!\" a voice whispered in his mind. \"This is what you came to Venus to see. This ... this....\" The first voice went into silence. Another voice took its place.\n \n \"This is another damned vision!\" the second voice said. \"This ... this is something that is not real, that is not possible! No Venusian Dreamer, and no one else, can levitate, can defy the laws of gravity, can float upward toward the ceiling. Your damned eyes are tricking you!\"\n \n \"We are not tricking you!\" the eyes hotly insisted. \"It is happening. We are seeing it. We are reporting accurately to you. That Venusian Buddha is levitating. We, your eyes, do not lie to you!\"\n \n \"You lied about the space ship!\" the second voice said.\n \n \"We did not lie about the space ship!\" the eyes insisted. \"When our master saw that ship we were out of focus, we were not reporting. Some other sense, some other organ, may have lied, but we did not.\"\n \n \"I—\" Johnson whispered.\n \n \"I am your skin,\" another voice whispered. \"I am covered with sweat.\"\n \n \"We are your adrenals. We are pouring forth adrenalin.\"\n \n \"I am your pancreas. I am gearing you for action.\"\n \n \"I am your thyroid. I....\"\n \n A multitude of tiny voices seemed to whisper through him. It was as if the parts of his body had suddenly found voices and were reporting to him what they were doing. These were voices out of his training days when he had learned the names of these functions and how to use them.\n \n \"Be quiet!\" he said roughly.\n \n The little voices seemed to blend into a single chorus. \"Action, Master! Do something.\"\n \n \"Quiet!\" Johnson ordered.\n \n \"But hurry. We are excited.\"\n \n \"There is a time to be excited and a time to hurry. In this situation, if action is taken before the time for it—if that time ever comes—we can all die.\"\n \n \"Die?\" the chorus quavered.\n \n \"Yes,\" Johnson said. \"Now be quiet. When the time goes we will all go together.\"\n \n The chorus went into muted silence. But just under the threshold the little voices were a multitude of tiny fretful pressures.\n \n \"I hear a whirring sound,\" his ears reported.\n \n \"Please!\" Johnson said.\n \n In the front of the room Unger floated ten feet above the floor.\n \n \"Master, we are not lying!\" his eyes repeated.\n \n \"I sweat....\" his skin began.\n \n \"Watch Unger!\" Johnson said.\n \n The Dreamer floated. If wires suspended him, Johnson could not see them. If any known force lifted him, Johnson could not detect that force. All he could say for certain was that Unger floated.\n \n \"Yaaah!\" The silence of a room was broken by the enraged scream of a Venusian being jarred out of his dream.\n \n \"Damn it!\" A human voice said.\n \n A wave as sharp as the tip of a sword swept through the room.\n \n Unger fell.\n \n He was ten feet high when he started to fall. With a bone-breaking, body-jarring thud, the Dreamer fell. Hard.\n \n There was a split second of startled silence in the Dreaming Room. The silence went. Voices came.\n \n \"Who did that?\"\n \n \"What happened?\"\n \n \"That human hidden there did it! He broke the Dreaming!\" Anger marked the voices. Although the language was Venusian, Johnson got most of the meaning. His hand dived under his coat for the gun holstered there. At his left, Caldwell was muttering thickly. \"What—what happened? I was back in the lab on Earth—\" Caldwell's voice held a plaintive note, as if some pleasant dream had been interrupted.\n \n On Johnson's right, Vee Vee seemed to flow to life. Her arms came up around his neck. He was instantly prepared for anything. Her lips came hungrily against his lips, pressed very hard, then gently drew away.\n \n \"What—\" he gasped.\n \n \"I had to do it now, darling,\" she answered. \"There may not be a later.\"\n \n Johnson had no time to ask her what she meant. Somewhere in the back of the room a human screamed. He jerked around. Back there a knot of Venusians were attacking a man.\n \n \"It's Martin!\" Caldwell shouted. \"He is here!\"\n \n In Johnson's hand as he came to his feet the zit gun throbbed. He fired blindly at the mass of Venusians. Caldwell was firing too. The soft throb of the guns was not audible above the uproar from the crowd. Struck by the gas-driven corvel charges, Venusians were falling. But there seemed to be an endless number of them.\n \n \"Vee Vee?\" Johnson suddenly realized that she had disappeared. She had slid out of his sight.\n \n \"Vee Vee!\" Johnson's voice became a shout.\n \n \"To hell with the woman!\" Caldwell grunted. \"Martin's the important one.\"\n \n Zit, zit, zit, Caldwell moved toward the rear, shooting as he went. Johnson followed.", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "9", "uid": "e51ec4518f4e41589bc65102d4de1ffc", "response_text": "Jonny Johnson is one of Earth’s foremost scientists, but no one on Venus is supposed to know that. He and another man, Caldwell, have come looking for another human named Martin, and it would be quite dangerous for him and them if anyone knew they were there. Johnson enters a bar known for providing patrons with dreams, and meets a gorgeous and dangerous woman named Vee Vee. \n\nVee Vee attempts to use a tactic known as the Karmer nerve paralysis on Johnson, which he swiftly blocks. They enter the Room of the Dreamer together, even though they don’t trust each other (and Caldwell has tipped off Johnson to watch out for her because she has been asking about Martin). As they enter the room and Johnson and Vee Vee lob threats back and forth, she reveals that she knows who he is but says she will keep his secret. \n\nThe Dreamer, Unger, enters the room and the dreaming commences. It seems to affect everyone, including Johnson, who sees a spaceship and then is upset that he can’t get it back. He has the odd sensation of different bodily organs speaking to him and trying to convince him what he’s seeing is real as he watches Unger levitate high into the air. \n\nUnger falls, hard, and the crowd gets very upset and murmurs suggest a human is at fault. Vee Vee suddenly kisses Johnson, saying she might not be able to later. He is puzzled by this, until he sees that Martin is in the room and the crowd is converging on him. Johnson and Caldwell fire their effective but not fatal zit guns into the crowd as Johnson calls out Vee Vee’s name and Caldwell tells him to forget about her. As the passage ends they are trying to get through the frantic throng of people to reach Martin. \n"}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "23be897108b84ba39d7f2ac57fc1e4ff", "response_text": "John Michael Johnson and Caldwell are scientists from Earth that are attempting to undertake a covert mission on Venus to locate Martin. They believe he can be found at a Venusian theatrical experience called the dreaming, whereby a room full of people are led into a dream state by a Venusian named Unger. \n\nJohnson and Caldwell pretend not to know each other, and Caldwell keeps watch over Johnson - tapping out messages to him in code on the bar top so they can communicate from a distance. Caldwell detects sinister intentions of Vee Vee and tries to warn Johnson repeatedly as she joins Johnson and he begins to be swept up by her captivating beauty and manipulations. Johnson has flashes of concern that VeeVee may be planted by someone who suspects the intentions that he and Caldwell have at the bar, but he dismisses those thoughts.\n\nVee Vee forces Johnson into the dreaming spectacle to take place that evening in a dark theatre within the bar. She attempts to disable Johnson using the Karmer grip, but is astonished when he is able to break it. Despite her confident influence over Johnson, she becomes scared and clings to Johnson through the dreaming. \n\nHumans fall into the dream state more reluctantly than Venusians, and Johnson wakes out of his dream of a ship to see that Unger is levitating above the floor at the center of the room. This is a huge discovery for him that he can hardly believe. Within his body, he experiences a surge of readiness to action, but this is abruptly broken by another human interrupting the dreaming. Martin has broken Unger’s dreaming session, toppling Unger to the floor from a height and waking all the other dreamers who are furious. VeeVee kisses Johnson and leaves rapidly while the theatre goers break into violence and Caldwell and Johnson start firing their stun weapons around the room trying to apprehend Martin before he escapes.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "69c9499716ed468b90099e3deeee7061", "response_text": "An Earthman named Johnson walks through rain-filled Venus to get to the bar. Johnson is after a genius named Martin, and he and his colleague Caldwell have traveled to Venus to find him.  He enters, hearing rhythmic music and sensing the feelings of those around him. Caldwell is in the bar as well, but they pretend they don’t know each other. Johnson orders a tarmur from a Venusian waiter and asks about the dreams. Unger, a great dreamer, will be performing tonight, so Johnson asks the waiter to come back and ask again later. Johnson sits down at the bar and enjoys his green beverage. A girl sits down next to him: tan, scantily clad, with blue eyes and brown hair, and a fabulous necklace. Instantly, Johnson feels both attracted and worried for her. She was not safe here in this bar, even on this planet, dressed like that. They flirt, and she introduces herself as Vee Vee, after stating that she is not a child. Johnson cannot figure out why she is on this planet. He wonders if she was sent to monitor him because the Venusians suspected his mission, but he quickly brushes that off because he would’ve been killed already had they figured it out. \nCaldwell rushes next to Johnson, pretending to be drunk and disorderly, and informs Johnson that Vee Vee knows who Martin is, the man that they’re searching for. Vee Vee and Johnson decide to attend the dreaming, but on their way to the room, she attempts to paralyze him using the Karmer nerve block. He gets out of it and injures her in the process. This confirms her theory that he is John Michael Johnson, esteemed human scientist. Caldwell follows them into the Room of the Dreamer. \nThe room is heavily perfumed and filled with cushions and rugs for people to lie on. The music gets louder as the room gets darker. Vee Vee holds onto Johnson as Unger suddenly appears in the center of the room. He lies down to sleep, and soon everyone follows after him. The Venusians first, humans last. Johnson thinks he notices a pattern in the room, but he finally drifts off and sees a spaceship, the one he dreamt of as a boy. Vee Vee woke him up, but he was unable to return to sleep due to the high-speed whirring sound. He saw Unger levitating ten feet above the ground and couldn’t believe his eyes. Perhaps Johnson starts dreaming again, or maybe he’s hallucinating, either way, his body starts speaking to him as his mind sees Unger. A Venusian awoke from their dream, and a human’s cry caused everyone else to wake up. Suddenly, Unger dropped back to the ground. \nEveryone tries to figure out who disturbed the Dreaming. Fingers point to Martin, who was there after all. Vee Vee quickly kisses Johnson and then disappears. Caldwell and Johnson pull out their non-lethal zit guns and shoot at the crowd who were trying to attack Martin. \n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "6f3344e72ef94eb3baa4678cc9f20c41", "response_text": "Johnson, a scientist from Earth, has traveled to Venus in search of a missing Earth scientist named Martin. He goes to an entertainment venue where patrons can have liquor, women, or dreams. An associate, Caldwell, is already there, it seems they have an agreement not to acknowledge each other’s presence. Johnson orders a drink at the bar, and a young woman joins him and strikes up a conversation. Johnson is surprised to see such a young, beautiful woman alone in the bar because it isn’t safe. She introduces herself as Vee Vee, and Johnson begins to suspect that the Venusians are using her to get to him; he knows that they would kill him if they knew his purpose. Caldwell comes to the bar to place an order, and his fingers tap nervously on the bar top; Johnson interprets the taps as a message warning him about the girl because she was asking about Martin earlier. Vee Vee comments about Caldwell’s apparent drunkenness and calls him Johnson’s friend. Johnson denies knowing him, but Vee Vee accuses him of lying. Vee Vee accompanies Johnson to the dreaming, and while she is holding his arm, she uses a move   on himcalled the Karmer nerve paralysis. Recognizing what is happening, Johnson hits her shoulder, breaking her grip, and Vee Vee is astonished because he is the first man she knew who could break it. Johnson warns her not to try it again, and she says she doesn’t make the same mistake twice, and the second time she breaks her victim’s neck. She claims she will use Eve’s way to get to him next. She addresses Johnson by his name and says his ability to break the Karmer nerve grip confirmed his identity for her. They move to the dreaming room, select a spot, and settle on some cushions; Caldwell settles next to them. The music plays and perfumes fill the air. Eventually a spotlight shines in the center of the room, and the famous dreamer Unger appears. When he settles in to sleep, everyone in the room begins dreaming their own dreams. Johnson wakens and notices a whirring sound that seems familiar but from a different place; he can’t restart his dream and sees Unger’s body levitating upward. Johnson becomes hyperaware of his organs and imagines they are talking to him, and his adrenals tell him they are making adrenalin, and his pancreas is preparing him for action. Someone yells out, woken from his dream. Unger’s body drops to the floor from a height of ten feet. A Venusian claims a human broke the dreaming, and pandemonium breaks loose. Vee Vee kisses Johnson and disappears, and Johnson and Caldwell see the Venusians attacking Martin and start shooting them with their zit guns.\n\n\n"}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Johnson and what does he do/what happens to him in the story?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "9", "uid": "e51ec4518f4e41589bc65102d4de1ffc", "response_text": "Johnson, whose full name is John Michael Johnson, is described by Vee Vee as one of Earth’s foremost scientists, and an expert in the field of electro-magnetic radiation in human bodies. He is the protagonist of the story, a human man who has apparently come to Venus in search of another human named Martin. He goes to a bar that has a Room of the Dreamer. Before he enters it, he encounters Vee Vee. She incites both lust and anxiety in Johnson, as he is attracted to her but doesn’t think she should be alone at a Venusian bar. After she attempts to use Karmer’s nerve paralysis on him, he blocks her and threatens her not to do it again. They go into the Room of the Dreamer, where Johnson discovers that Vee Vee knows who he is. The Unger enters and the dreaming begins. Johnson sees a spaceship before him and the room seems to disappear behind him. Johnson is upset when the spaceship disappears and he can’t get it back. He sees Unger starting to levitate and all of Johnson’s various body parts seem to talk to him. When Unger falls, Vee Vee kisses Johnson. He is confused and then realizes that Martin is there and is being attacked. As the passage ends, Johnson and Caldwell are shooting people with their zit guns and trying to get toward Martin as Johnson calls out to Vee Vee. \n"}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "23be897108b84ba39d7f2ac57fc1e4ff", "response_text": "John Michael Johnson is the Earth's foremost expert in the field of electro-magnetic radiations within the human body. He has travelled to Venus with a close colleague, Caldwell, to try to find a “frantic human genius” named Martin at The Dreaming performance. \n\nHe’s intercepted and influenced by a human named Vee Vee during his mission, who appears to have bad intentions towards him that he allows to play out. She may be using him to locate Martin as well, who she had been inquiring about at the club.\n\nJohnson has a drink at the bar and then goes to the dreaming with Vee Vee where she nearly paralyzes him with the Karmer grip that he is fortunately able to break before she gains control of him. During the dreaming performance, Johnson dreams of a ship, but then returns to reality where he catches sight of the Venusian performer, Unger, levitating above the ground in the center of the room. He is astonished at the levitation, and his body is preparing to take action of some means when the room is disrupted by another human - revealed to be Martin. Vee Vee kisses him and rapidly vanishes. The dreaming theatre erupts into violent chaos and the story ends with Johnson and Caldwell shooting their weapons around the room.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "69c9499716ed468b90099e3deeee7061", "response_text": "John Michael Johnson, Johnny to his friends, is an esteemed scientist from Earth. Presumably, he and his colleague, Caldwell, are developing research or material on Dreamers and what happens when they enter that state of mind. This can be assumed when it is revealed that the man they were searching for on Venus, Martin, knows something about the Dream world that others don’t.\nJohnson makes his way to Venus to chase after Martin and winds up in a dive bar. An attractive young woman attaches herself to his arm after he orders a tarmur, and eventually introduces herself as Vee Vee. Johnson, cautious on this planet due to its unfriendly history with humans, immediately fears for this girl, as he can think of a reason why a human would want her and why a Venusian would want her. \nThey chat and flirt until Caldwell informs Johnson in drunken-code that the girl was inquiring about Martin, the man they were pursuing. Vee Vee expresses interest in visiting the Room of the Dreamer, so Johnson buys tickets for both of them. As they stand to enter the open doors, Vee Vee uses the Karmer nerve block paralysis on him, and it almost works, until Johnson pinches her shoulder and injures her in return. They flirt a little more, then enter the room. As they sit down on their cushioned spot, Vee Vee clings onto him in fear and reveals that his ability to defend himself from the Karmer nerve block proved his identity to her. She knows who he is, Johnny Johnson, and reveals it. \nUnger suddenly appears and promptly goes to sleep. Though they struggle at first with falling asleep, they both do and Johnson sees a spaceship in his dream. Suddenly, he wakes up to Vee Vee grabbing his arm, claiming he woke her up. He hears a strange whirring, which prevents him from falling back into his old dream. He sees Unger begin to float in the air. His body responds, his nerves talking to him, his adrenal gland, his skin. Johnson’s body reacts as his mind does, too. The whole room wakes up thanks to a human’s scream and Unger comes crashing onto the ground. Vee Vee kisses Johnson, as he pulls out his zit gun, a non-lethal weapon. He and Caldwell start shooting at the mass of people attacking the man, who they have discovered is Martin. \n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "6f3344e72ef94eb3baa4678cc9f20c41", "response_text": "Johnson is a well-known scientist from Earth and an expert in electro-magnetic radiations within the human body. He and his associate Caldwell have traveled to Venus to search for a missing scientist named Martin. Their mission is highly secretive; Johnson and Caldwell do not acknowledge each other publicly although they can communicate through finger taps. Johnson is puzzled when a beautiful Earth woman approaches him in a bar and strikes up a conversation. It is odd for her to be there alone because Venus is not safe for unaccompanied women. Johnson suspects Venus authorities might be aware of his mission and might be using the woman to get to him, but he ultimately disregards this thought because he knows that if the Venusians knew his real mission, they would kill him. When Caldwell comes to the bar to order another drink, he finger-taps a message to Johnson to watch out for the woman and tells him that she was asking for Martin earlier. He also says he thinks Martin is or has been there although he hasn’t seen him. Johnson is stunned when the woman uses the Karmer nerve paralysis move on him, and she claims that when he breaks the move, it confirms his identity for her. She knows his full name and that he is a well-known scientist but says she’ll keep his secrets. During the dreaming, Johnson dreams of a spaceship, which is closely associated with his childhood dreams of traveling to the stars. When he awakens from the dream, he senses that something is off. He hears a whirring sound but can’t place what it is, and he is aware his body is producing adrenalin and preparing for action. When everyone is suddenly roused from their dreams, and the Venusians start attacking the human accused of waking them, Caldwell identifies the man as Martin, and Johnson helps him shoot the Venusians with his zit gun to knock them unconscious.\n"}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Vee Vee and what does she do/what happens to her in the story?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "9", "uid": "e51ec4518f4e41589bc65102d4de1ffc", "response_text": "Vee Vee is a woman described as very beautiful, with auburn hair, blue eyes and tanned skin. She wears a low-cut green dress and necklace and seems out of place at the dream bar, but unafraid. She introduces herself to Johnson and gets him to escort her to the Room of the Dreamer, even after Caldwell warns him that she has been asking for Martin. She attempts to use Karmer’s nerve paralysis on Johnson and he blocks it. Johnson says she is a child vampire and brings her into the Room of Dreaming; she says next time she’ll use Eve’s trick against him. She says his name and when he questions her, it turns out that she knows exactly who he is and what he does. She claims to have tried the paralysis trick to see if he would block it so she would know if it was him. Self-assured though she was before, she becomes quite frightened in the Room of the Dreamer. After Unger falls and chaos breaks out, she kisses Johnson and says she did it because she might not be able to later. Though he calls for her as he and Caldwell make their way towards Martin, Vee Vee’s whereabouts are unknown at the end of the passage. \n"}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "23be897108b84ba39d7f2ac57fc1e4ff", "response_text": "VeeVee’s origins are mysterious, but from her appearances in the story we know she is a beautiful human female who is capable of manipulating Johnson. She also possesses some spy-like traits with the ability to assess Caldwell’s drunkard act and recognize that he is informing Johnson, as well as performing the paralyzing Karmer grip on Johnson.\n\nShe seeks out Johnson in the bar and manipulates him into going into The Dreaming alongside her. Because she has prior knowledge of Johnson being Earth's foremost expert in the field of electro-magnetic radiations within the human body, and also shows interest in Martin - the genius Johnson himself is there to find - the reader is left to conclude that VeeVee likely has intentions of gathering expert knowledge about how the dreaming act works. To what end - good or evil - we do not know.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "69c9499716ed468b90099e3deeee7061", "response_text": "Vee Vee is a human woman, traveling on Venus. She’s wearing a beautiful green dress with a deep neckline and a big necklace. Her blue eyes and brown hair draw Johnson in, along with her cleavage. She is presumably in Venus searching for Martin, the genius that Johnson and Caldwell are also after. She uses the Karmer nerve block on Johnson after flirting with him to determine if he is, in fact, John Michael Johnson, a human scientist. While in the Room of the Dreamer, her demeanor changes, and she suddenly becomes scared. She clings to Johnson as Unger appears and continues latching onto him as they fall asleep. She wakes him up, but she claims he woke her up and then falls back asleep. She is awoken once more when the cry echoes throughout the room. She kisses Johnson, claiming it may be her only chance, then disappears in the night. "}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "6f3344e72ef94eb3baa4678cc9f20c41", "response_text": "Vee Vee is a beautiful young woman who somehow knows about Martin, Johnson, and Caldwell. She starts a conversation with Johnson at the bar and identifies Caldwell as his friend. Her unaccompanied presence in the bar is disturbing to Johnson, and Caldwell warns him about her because she has been asking for Martin. It isn’t clear whether she is working for the Venusians, but Johnson suspects she might be. She comes across as strong; she is bold in the way she takes on Johnson, and she uses the Karmer nerve grip on him. After he breaks the hold, she tells him she doesn’t make the same mistake twice; the second time, she breaks the person’s neck. Then she tells him she will get to him Eve’s way. Vee Vee reveals she knows Johnson’s identity but says she’ll keep his secrets and even goes so far as to say no harm will come to him because she is with him. Once they go into the dreaming room, however, Vee Vee begins to act scared. She stays close to Johnson and holds onto him for protection. When the Venusians wake from their dreams, Vee Vee kisses Johnson and then pulls away from him, saying she had to kiss him now because there might not be a later time. Then she disappears as Caldwell identifies Martin, and Johnson and Caldwell begin firing their zit guns as the Venusians. "}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the setting(s) of the story.", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "9", "uid": "e51ec4518f4e41589bc65102d4de1ffc", "response_text": "The story takes place on Venus at an unspecified point in the future. At the very beginning, the setting is outside on a rainy evening. On Venus, the rain falls in all directions, possibly including straight up. Johnson says that everything on Venus feels like it’s coming at him from all directions. He soon enters the club, a perfumed room with loud Venusian music, a bar that Johnson makes his way to, and “feeling states” that hit Johnson immediately; specifically feelings of love and sex designed to entice humans and Venusians. When they enter the Room of the Dreamer, the perfume becomes stronger and the music louder, playing harmonies that seem new to the ear. The room is massive and only semi-illuminated, with many tiered, carpet and pillow-lined ramps circling up from an empty space with only a mat and headrest. It feels pleasantly cool but also slightly damp, and guests are greeted by a strange, tangible energy. \n"}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "23be897108b84ba39d7f2ac57fc1e4ff", "response_text": "The entire story takes place on the very rainy planet of Venus, inside a club in an unnamed Venusian city. The club contains a bar and a special room for The Dreaming, which is a group experience of mental trance led on by a Venusian figure that takes place in a theatre-like seating room within the club. The club itself is filled with loud Venusian rhumba music, smoke and perfume. The dreaming room is dark, damp, and cold with perfumed smells and rhythmic lute music.\n\nThere are some references to the dream locations that characters travel to, like Caldwell dreaming of being back in his lab, but the only physical locations of the story are within the club.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "69c9499716ed468b90099e3deeee7061", "response_text": "The Conjurer of Venus takes place on Venus, an extremely rainy planet. At first, the characters are in the main room of a bar. Filled with rhythmic music and feelings of desire, fear, and love, the bar feels crowded and full. Headwaiters attend to everyone’s needs, and booths line the walls. There’s a bar where drinks like tarmur may be poured. \nEventually, they enter the Room of the Dreamer. The music is just as strong here, but there’s another feeling to this room, a certain coldness of unknowingness. The room was perfumed and filled with Venusian lute music. A thick rug lined the ground, as well as plenty of cushions. A man and a headrest lie in the center of the room for Unger’s use. \n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "6f3344e72ef94eb3baa4678cc9f20c41", "response_text": "The story is set on Venus where it rains frequently, heavily, and seemingly from all directions. The planet is occupied by Venusians and some Earthmen, and it offers entertainment designed to appeal to emotions, especially love. The society is quite advanced; it provides entertainment venues that offer liquor, women, and dreams to its patrons. The first part of the story takes place at the bar in one of these entertainment venues; the music there is a Venusian rhumba with a strong beat. The atmosphere is clouded with smoke and perfume. A headwaiter greets people at the door and escorts them to the appropriate part of the establishment based on their desires. When it is time for the dreaming, trumpets play, and a different perfume diffuses into the bar. In the dreaming room, there is a mat and a headrest in the center of the floor, and around it, there are tiers of circular ramps covered with thick rugs and groupings of pillow nests. The dreamer’s perfume is stronger in this room, and the air is cool and somewhat damp. Venusian lute music plays louder; this music sounds inharmonious to Earthmen at first, but once they become used to it, they can follow the rhythms and melodies they never knew existed. When it is time for the dreaming to begin, the lights are turned down very low, and a spotlight shines on the mat in the center of the room. A curtain lifts, and the dreamer, in this case, Unger, enters the spotlight. The music, perfume, and something Johnson can’t identify put the dreamer audience into a sort of trance so that they have their own dreams.\n"}]}, {"question_text": "Describe what the story tells us about the culture on Venus.", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "9", "uid": "e51ec4518f4e41589bc65102d4de1ffc", "response_text": "The culture on Venus is complex and futuristic, and seems to cater to both Venusians and humans. Women don’t appear to have a particularly high status. A bar like the one the story takes place in is apparently not safe for unaccompanied women, based on Johnson’s initial reaction to her being there alone; he worries that Earth men might abduct her for sex and that Venusians might kill her to steal her jewelry. When Johnson enters, the head waiter asks if he wants liquor, women, or dreams, implying that sex work or some other transactional use of “women” is at play there. Through its use of “feeling states”, the Venusian nightlife appears to have commodified the emotions that people already possess in an attempt to entice, confuse, and manipulate. The popularity of “dreaming” further shows an emphasis on escape and illusion in this culture. The drinks served also seem as much a visual experience as a drinking experience: the bar seems to want to stimulate all senses. \n"}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "23be897108b84ba39d7f2ac57fc1e4ff", "response_text": "Venusians have a very rich sensory experience in their culture. In the story they are capable of operating at different electromagnetic frequencies than humans - creating trance-like dreams, guided by perfumes and rhythmic music. The humans also experience various feeling states like you would experience smells as they enter the Venusian bar.\n\nVenus is also a place that is dangerous for humans, and although their culture welcomes them to patronize clubs and the dreamings, Venusians are known to harm humans. It’s described that humans die easily where the story takes place and that the motives of human killers are not questioned. \n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "69c9499716ed468b90099e3deeee7061", "response_text": "Venus is clearly not very friendly towards humans. According to Johnson, many humans are killed here without so much of an investigation or a worry. Apparently, there were plenty of motives for killing humans, so there was no need to do any sort of investigation. Hence his anxiety when he first met Vee Vee. Her necklace, which he claims Vneusiams would kill her for, and her body, which Earthmen would steal her for, make her a shiny target in Venus. \nBased on the crowdedness of the bar, it seems that Venus has a hedonistic culture. Venusians and humans alike swarm toward the Room of the Dreamer, a way to be able to transport themselves from their present reality to another. \n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "6f3344e72ef94eb3baa4678cc9f20c41", "response_text": "\n\tThe Venusian culture is very centered on feelings and sensations, especially love and the desire for sex. Their entertainment venues are scented with perfumes, and their music has a wild, frantic beat. The different fragrances seem to have different effects. For example, when the dreaming time is near, waves are perfume flow into an area, but the strongest perfume is the one of the dreamer. Their dreaming rooms are designed to provide pleasant feelings with their plush carpets and cozy pillow nests. Venusians in businesses behave in a very patronizing way with humans, referring to them as “mighty humans” and offering them whatever they want. Outside of business dealings, Venusians are less friendly. Single human women are not safe, though, because Venusians are likely to kill a woman to steal a beautiful necklace that she is wearing, and on Venus, no human deaths are investigated, and they happen rather often. There appears to be some antipathy between Venusians and humans; Johnson fears for his life if the Venusians know he is there searching for Martin. And during the dreaming, a Venusian accuses a human of waking him from his dream. The Venusian is enraged, and he and the other Venusians descend on the human and attack him. \n"}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "51150", "uid": "2fc95db8287a46f2b2469423e5880f97", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "Venus Is a Man's World\n \n \n BY WILLIAM TENN\n \n Illustrated by GENE FAWCETTE\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction July 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n\n Actually, there wouldn't be too much difference if women took over the Earth altogether. But not for some men and most boys!\n \n \n \n I've always said that even if Sis is seven years older than me—and a girl besides—she don't always know what's best. Put me on a spaceship jam-packed with three hundred females just aching to get themselves husbands in the one place they're still to be had—the planet Venus—and you know I'll be in trouble.\n \n Bad trouble. With the law, which is the worst a boy can get into.\n \n Twenty minutes after we lifted from the Sahara Spaceport, I wriggled out of my acceleration hammock and started for the door of our cabin.\n \n \"Now you be careful, Ferdinand,\" Sis called after me as she opened a book called Family Problems of the Frontier Woman . \"Remember you're a nice boy. Don't make me ashamed of you.\"\n \n I tore down the corridor. Most of the cabins had purple lights on in front of the doors, showing that the girls were still inside their hammocks. That meant only the ship's crew was up and about. Ship's crews are men; women are too busy with important things like government to run ships. I felt free all over—and happy. Now was my chance to really see the Eleanor Roosevelt !\n \n \n\n \n It was hard to believe I was traveling in space at last. Ahead and behind me, all the way up to where the companionway curved in out of sight, there was nothing but smooth black wall and smooth white doors—on and on and on. Gee , I thought excitedly, this is one big ship !\n \n Of course, every once in a while I would run across a big scene of stars in the void set in the wall; but they were only pictures. Nothing that gave the feel of great empty space like I'd read about in The Boy Rocketeers , no portholes, no visiplates, nothing.\n \n So when I came to the crossway, I stopped for a second, then turned left. To the right, see, there was Deck Four, then Deck Three, leading inward past the engine fo'c'sle to the main jets and the grav helix going purr-purr-purrty-purr in the comforting way big machinery has when it's happy and oiled. But to the left, the crossway led all the way to the outside level which ran just under the hull. There were portholes on the hull.\n \n I'd studied all that out in our cabin, long before we'd lifted, on the transparent model of the ship hanging like a big cigar from the ceiling. Sis had studied it too, but she was looking for places like the dining salon and the library and Lifeboat 68 where we should go in case of emergency. I looked for the important things.\n \n As I trotted along the crossway, I sort of wished that Sis hadn't decided to go after a husband on a luxury liner. On a cargo ship, now, I'd be climbing from deck to deck on a ladder instead of having gravity underfoot all the time just like I was home on the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico. But women always know what's right, and a boy can only make faces and do what they say, same as the men have to do.\n \n Still, it was pretty exciting to press my nose against the slots in the wall and see the sliding panels that could come charging out and block the crossway into an airtight fit in case a meteor or something smashed into the ship. And all along there were glass cases with spacesuits standing in them, like those knights they used to have back in the Middle Ages.\n \n \"In the event of disaster affecting the oxygen content of companionway,\" they had the words etched into the glass, \"break glass with hammer upon wall, remove spacesuit and proceed to don it in the following fashion.\"\n \n I read the \"following fashion\" until I knew it by heart. Boy , I said to myself, I hope we have that kind of disaster. I'd sure like to get into one of those! Bet it would be more fun than those diving suits back in Undersea!\n \n \n And all the time I was alone. That was the best part.\n \n \n\n \n Then I passed Deck Twelve and there was a big sign. \"Notice! Passengers not permitted past this point!\" A big sign in red.\n \n I peeked around the corner. I knew it—the next deck was the hull. I could see the portholes. Every twelve feet, they were, filled with the velvet of space and the dancing of more stars than I'd ever dreamed existed in the Universe.\n \n There wasn't anyone on the deck, as far as I could see. And this distance from the grav helix, the ship seemed mighty quiet and lonely. If I just took one quick look....\n \n But I thought of what Sis would say and I turned around obediently. Then I saw the big red sign again. \"Passengers not permitted—\"\n \n Well! Didn't I know from my civics class that only women could be Earth Citizens these days? Sure, ever since the Male Desuffrage Act. And didn't I know that you had to be a citizen of a planet in order to get an interplanetary passport? Sis had explained it all to me in the careful, patient way she always talks politics and things like that to men.\n \n \"Technically, Ferdinand, I'm the only passenger in our family. You can't be one, because, not being a citizen, you can't acquire an Earth Passport. However, you'll be going to Venus on the strength of this clause—'Miss Evelyn Sparling and all dependent male members of family, this number not to exceed the registered quota of sub-regulations pertaining'—and so on. I want you to understand these matters, so that you will grow into a man who takes an active interest in world affairs. No matter what you hear, women really like and appreciate such men.\"\n \n Of course, I never pay much attention to Sis when she says such dumb things. I'm old enough, I guess, to know that it isn't what Women like and appreciate that counts when it comes to people getting married. If it were, Sis and three hundred other pretty girls like her wouldn't be on their way to Venus to hook husbands.\n \n Still, if I wasn't a passenger, the sign didn't have anything to do with me. I knew what Sis could say to that , but at least it was an argument I could use if it ever came up. So I broke the law.\n \n I was glad I did. The stars were exciting enough, but away off to the left, about five times as big as I'd ever seen it, except in the movies, was the Moon, a great blob of gray and white pockmarks holding off the black of space. I was hoping to see the Earth, but I figured it must be on the other side of the ship or behind us. I pressed my nose against the port and saw the tiny flicker of a spaceliner taking off, Marsbound. I wished I was on that one!\n \n Then I noticed, a little farther down the companionway, a stretch of blank wall where there should have been portholes. High up on the wall in glowing red letters were the words, \"Lifeboat 47. Passengers: Thirty-two. Crew: Eleven. Unauthorized personnel keep away!\"\n \n Another one of those signs.\n \n \n\n \n I crept up to the porthole nearest it and could just barely make out the stern jets where it was plastered against the hull. Then I walked under the sign and tried to figure the way you were supposed to get into it. There was a very thin line going around in a big circle that I knew must be the door. But I couldn't see any knobs or switches to open it with. Not even a button you could press.\n \n That meant it was a sonic lock like the kind we had on the outer keeps back home in Undersea. But knock or voice? I tried the two knock combinations I knew, and nothing happened. I only remembered one voice key—might as well see if that's it, I figured.\n \n \"Twenty, Twenty-three. Open Sesame.\"\n \n For a second, I thought I'd hit it just right out of all the million possible combinations—The door clicked inward toward a black hole, and a hairy hand as broad as my shoulders shot out of the hole. It closed around my throat and plucked me inside as if I'd been a baby sardine.\n \n I bounced once on the hard lifeboat floor. Before I got my breath and sat up, the door had been shut again. When the light came on, I found myself staring up the muzzle of a highly polished blaster and into the cold blue eyes of the biggest man I'd ever seen.\n \n \n\n \n He was wearing a one-piece suit made of some scaly green stuff that looked hard and soft at the same time.\n \n His boots were made of it too, and so was the hood hanging down his back.\n \n And his face was brown. Not just ordinary tan, you understand, but the deep, dark, burned-all-the-way-in brown I'd seen on the lifeguards in New Orleans whenever we took a surface vacation—the kind of tan that comes from day after broiling day under a really hot Sun. His hair looked as if it had once been blond, but now there were just long combed-out waves with a yellowish tinge that boiled all the way down to his shoulders.\n \n I hadn't seen hair like that on a man except maybe in history books; every man I'd ever known had his hair cropped in the fashionable soup-bowl style. I was staring at his hair, almost forgetting about the blaster which I knew it was against the law for him to have at all, when I suddenly got scared right through.\n \n His eyes.\n \n They didn't blink and there seemed to be no expression around them. Just coldness. Maybe it was the kind of clothes he was wearing that did it, but all of a sudden I was reminded of a crocodile I'd seen in a surface zoo that had stared quietly at me for twenty minutes until it opened two long tooth-studded jaws.\n \n \"Green shatas!\" he said suddenly. \"Only a tadpole. I must be getting jumpy enough to splash.\"\n \n Then he shoved the blaster away in a holster made of the same scaly leather, crossed his arms on his chest and began to study me. I grunted to my feet, feeling a lot better. The coldness had gone out of his eyes.\n \n I held out my hand the way Sis had taught me. \"My name is Ferdinand Sparling. I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr.—Mr.—\"\n \n \"Hope for your sake,\" he said to me, \"that you aren't what you seem—tadpole brother to one of them husbandless anura.\"\n \n \" What? \"\n \n \"A 'nuran is a female looking to nest. Anura is a herd of same. Come from Flatfolk ways.\"\n \n \"Flatfolk are the Venusian natives, aren't they? Are you a Venusian? What part of Venus do you come from? Why did you say you hope—\"\n \n He chuckled and swung me up into one of the bunks that lined the lifeboat. \"Questions you ask,\" he said in his soft voice. \"Venus is a sharp enough place for a dryhorn, let alone a tadpole dryhorn with a boss-minded sister.\"\n \n \"I'm not a dryleg,\" I told him proudly. \" We're from Undersea.\"\n \n \" Dryhorn , I said, not dryleg. And what's Undersea?\"\n \n \"Well, in Undersea we called foreigners and newcomers drylegs. Just like on Venus, I guess, you call them dryhorns.\" And then I told him how Undersea had been built on the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, when the mineral resources of the land began to give out and engineers figured that a lot could still be reached from the sea bottoms.\n \n \n\n \n He nodded. He'd heard about the sea-bottom mining cities that were bubbling under protective domes in every one of the Earth's oceans just about the same time settlements were springing up on the planets.\n \n He looked impressed when I told him about Mom and Pop being one of the first couples to get married in Undersea. He looked thoughtful when I told him how Sis and I had been born there and spent half our childhood listening to the pressure pumps. He raised his eyebrows and looked disgusted when I told how Mom, as Undersea representative on the World Council, had been one of the framers of the Male Desuffrage Act after the Third Atomic War had resulted in the Maternal Revolution.\n \n \n\n \n He almost squeezed my arm when I got to the time Mom and Pop were blown up in a surfacing boat.\n \n \"Well, after the funeral, there was a little money, so Sis decided we might as well use it to migrate. There was no future for her on Earth, she figured. You know, the three-out-of-four.\"\n \n \"How's that?\"\n \n \"The three-out-of-four. No more than three women out of every four on Earth can expect to find husbands. Not enough men to go around. Way back in the Twentieth Century, it began to be felt, Sis says, what with the wars and all. Then the wars went on and a lot more men began to die or get no good from the radioactivity. Then the best men went to the planets, Sis says, until by now even if a woman can scrounge a personal husband, he's not much to boast about.\"\n \n The stranger nodded violently. \"Not on Earth, he isn't. Those busybody anura make sure of that. What a place! Suffering gridniks, I had a bellyful!\"\n \n He told me about it. Women were scarce on Venus, and he hadn't been able to find any who were willing to come out to his lonely little islands; he had decided to go to Earth where there was supposed to be a surplus. Naturally, having been born and brought up on a very primitive planet, he didn't know \"it's a woman's world,\" like the older boys in school used to say.\n \n The moment he landed on Earth he was in trouble. He didn't know he had to register at a government-operated hotel for transient males; he threw a bartender through a thick plastic window for saying something nasty about the length of his hair; and imagine !—he not only resisted arrest, resulting in three hospitalized policemen, but he sassed the judge in open court!\n \n \"Told me a man wasn't supposed to say anything except through female attorneys. Told her that where I came from, a man spoke his piece when he'd a mind to, and his woman walked by his side.\"\n \n \"What happened?\" I asked breathlessly.\n \n \"Oh, Guilty of This and Contempt of That. That blown-up brinosaur took my last munit for fines, then explained that she was remitting the rest because I was a foreigner and uneducated.\" His eyes grew dark for a moment. He chuckled again. \"But I wasn't going to serve all those fancy little prison sentences. Forcible Citizenship Indoctrination, they call it? Shook the dead-dry dust of the misbegotten, God forsaken mother world from my feet forever. The women on it deserve their men. My pockets were folded from the fines, and the paddlefeet were looking for me so close I didn't dare radio for more munit. So I stowed away.\"\n \n \n\n \n For a moment, I didn't understand him. When I did, I was almost ill.\n\"Y-you mean,\" I choked, \"th-that you're b-breaking the law right now? And I'm with you while you're doing it?\"\n \n He leaned over the edge of the bunk and stared at me very seriously.\n\"What breed of tadpole are they turning out these days? Besides, what business do you have this close to the hull?\"\n \n After a moment of sober reflection, I nodded. \"You're right. I've also become a male outside the law. We're in this together.\"\n \n He guffawed. Then he sat up and began cleaning his blaster. I found myself drawn to the bright killer-tube with exactly the fascination Sis insists such things have always had for men.\n \n \"Ferdinand your label? That's not right for a sprouting tadpole. I'll call you Ford. My name's Butt. Butt Lee Brown.\"\n \n I liked the sound of Ford. \"Is Butt a nickname, too?\"\n \n \"Yeah. Short for Alberta, but I haven't found a man who can draw a blaster fast enough to call me that. You see, Pop came over in the eighties—the big wave of immigrants when they evacuated Ontario. Named all us boys after Canadian provinces. I was the youngest, so I got the name they were saving for a girl.\"\n \n \"You had a lot of brothers, Mr. Butt?\"\n \n He grinned with a mighty set of teeth. \"Oh, a nestful. Of course, they were all killed in the Blue Chicago Rising by the MacGregor boys—all except me and Saskatchewan. Then Sas and me hunted the MacGregors down. Took a heap of time; we didn't float Jock MacGregor's ugly face down the Tuscany till both of us were pretty near grown up.\"\n \n I walked up close to where I could see the tiny bright copper coils of the blaster above the firing button. \"Have you killed a lot of men with that, Mr. Butt?\"\n \n \"Butt. Just plain Butt to you, Ford.\" He frowned and sighted at the light globe. \"No more'n twelve—not counting five government paddlefeet, of course. I'm a peaceable planter. Way I figure it, violence never accomplishes much that's important. My brother Sas, now—\"\n \n \n\n \n He had just begun to work into a wonderful anecdote about his brother when the dinner gong rang. Butt told me to scat. He said I was a growing tadpole and needed my vitamins. And he mentioned, very off-hand, that he wouldn't at all object if I brought him some fresh fruit. It seemed there was nothing but processed foods in the lifeboat and Butt was used to a farmer's diet.\n \n Trouble was, he was a special kind of farmer. Ordinary fruit would have been pretty easy to sneak into my pockets at meals. I even found a way to handle the kelp and giant watercress Mr. Brown liked, but things like seaweed salt and Venusian mud-grapes just had too strong a smell. Twice, the mechanical hamper refused to accept my jacket for laundering and I had to wash it myself. But I learned so many wonderful things about Venus every time I visited that stowaway....\n \n I learned three wild-wave songs of the Flatfolk and what it is that the native Venusians hate so much; I learned how you tell the difference between a lousy government paddlefoot from New Kalamazoo and the slaptoe slinker who is the planter's friend. After a lot of begging, Butt Lee Brown explained the workings of his blaster, explained it so carefully that I could name every part and tell what it did from the tiny round electrodes to the long spirals of transformer. But no matter what, he would never let me hold it.\n \n \"Sorry, Ford, old tad,\" he would drawl, spinning around and around in the control swivel-chair at the nose of the lifeboat. \"But way I look at it, a man who lets somebody else handle his blaster is like the giant whose heart was in an egg that an enemy found. When you've grown enough so's your pop feels you ought to have a weapon, why, then's the time to learn it and you might's well learn fast. Before then, you're plain too young to be even near it.\"\n \n \"I don't have a father to give me one when I come of age. I don't even have an older brother as head of my family like your brother Labrador. All I have is Sis. And she —\"\n \n \"She'll marry some fancy dryhorn who's never been farther South than the Polar Coast. And she'll stay head of the family, if I know her breed of green shata. Bossy, opinionated. By the way, Fordie,\" he said, rising and stretching so the fish-leather bounced and rippled off his biceps, \"that sister. She ever....\"\n \n And he'd be off again, cross-examining me about Evelyn. I sat in the swivel chair he'd vacated and tried to answer his questions. But there was a lot of stuff I didn't know. Evelyn was a healthy girl, for instance; how healthy, exactly, I had no way of finding out. Yes, I'd tell him, my aunts on both sides of my family each had had more than the average number of children. No, we'd never done any farming to speak of, back in Undersea, but—yes, I'd guess Evelyn knew about as much as any girl there when it came to diving equipment and pressure pump regulation.\n \n How would I know that stuff would lead to trouble for me?\n \n \n\n \n Sis had insisted I come along to the geography lecture. Most of the other girls who were going to Venus for husbands talked to each other during the lecture, but not my sister! She hung on every word, took notes even, and asked enough questions to make the perspiring purser really work in those orientation periods.\n \n \"I am very sorry, Miss Sparling,\" he said with pretty heavy sarcasm,\n\"but I cannot remember any of the agricultural products of the Macro Continent. Since the human population is well below one per thousand square miles, it can readily be understood that the quantity of tilled soil, land or sub-surface, is so small that—Wait, I remember something. The Macro Continent exports a fruit though not exactly an edible one. The wild dunging drug is harvested there by criminal speculators. Contrary to belief on Earth, the traffic has been growing in recent years. In fact—\"\n \n \"Pardon me, sir,\" I broke in, \"but doesn't dunging come only from Leif Erickson Island off the Moscow Peninsula of the Macro Continent? You remember, purser—Wang Li's third exploration, where he proved the island and the peninsula didn't meet for most of the year?\"\n \n The purser nodded slowly. \"I forgot,\" he admitted. \"Sorry, ladies, but the boy's right. Please make the correction in your notes.\"\n \n But Sis was the only one who took notes, and she didn't take that one. She stared at me for a moment, biting her lower lip thoughtfully, while I got sicker and sicker. Then she shut her pad with the final gesture of the right hand that Mom used to use just before challenging the opposition to come right down on the Council floor and debate it out with her.\n \n \"Ferdinand,\" Sis said, \"let's go back to our cabin.\"\n \n The moment she sat me down and walked slowly around me, I knew I was in for it. \"I've been reading up on Venusian geography in the ship's library,\" I told her in a hurry.\n \n \"No doubt,\" she said drily. She shook her night-black hair out. \"But you aren't going to tell me that you read about dunging in the ship's library. The books there have been censored by a government agent of Earth against the possibility that they might be read by susceptible young male minds like yours. She would not have allowed—this Terran Agent—\"\n \n \"Paddlefoot,\" I sneered.\n \n Sis sat down hard in our zoom-air chair. \"Now that's a term,\" she said carefully, \"that is used only by Venusian riffraff.\"\n \n \"They're not!\"\n \n \"Not what?\"\n \n \"Riffraff,\" I had to answer, knowing I was getting in deeper all the time and not being able to help it. I mustn't give Mr. Brown away!\n\"They're trappers and farmers, pioneers and explorers, who're building Venus. And it takes a real man to build on a hot, hungry hell like Venus.\"\n \n \"Does it, now?\" she said, looking at me as if I were beginning to grow a second pair of ears. \"Tell me more.\"\n \n \"You can't have meek, law-abiding, women-ruled men when you start civilization on a new planet. You've got to have men who aren't afraid to make their own law if necessary—with their own guns. That's where law begins; the books get written up later.\"\n \n \"You're going to tell , Ferdinand, what evil, criminal male is speaking through your mouth!\"\n \n \"Nobody!\" I insisted. \"They're my own ideas!\"\n \n \"They are remarkably well-organized for a young boy's ideas. A boy who, I might add, has previously shown a ridiculous but nonetheless entirely masculine boredom with political philosophy. I plan to have a government career on that new planet you talk about, Ferdinand—after I have found a good, steady husband, of course—and I don't look forward to a masculinist radical in the family. Now, who has been filling your head with all this nonsense?\"\n \n \n\n \n I was sweating. Sis has that deadly bulldog approach when she feels someone is lying. I pulled my pulpast handkerchief from my pocket to wipe my face. Something rattled to the floor.\n \n \"What is this picture of me doing in your pocket, Ferdinand?\"\n \n A trap seemed to be hinging noisily into place. \"One of the passengers wanted to see how you looked in a bathing suit.\"\n \n \"The passengers on this ship are all female. I can't imagine any of them that curious about my appearance. Ferdinand, it's a man who has been giving you these anti-social ideas, isn't it? A war-mongering masculinist like all the frustrated men who want to engage in government and don't have the vaguest idea how to. Except, of course, in their ancient, bloody ways. Ferdinand, who has been perverting that sunny and carefree soul of yours?\"\n \n \"Nobody! Nobody! \"\n \n \"Ferdinand, there's no point in lying! I demand—\"\n \n \"I told you, Sis. I told you! And don't call me Ferdinand. Call me Ford.\"\n \n \"Ford? Ford? Now, you listen to me, Ferdinand....\"\n \n After that it was all over but the confession. That came in a few moments. I couldn't fool Sis. She just knew me too well, I decided miserably. Besides, she was a girl.\n \n All the same, I wouldn't get Mr. Butt Lee Brown into trouble if I could help it. I made Sis promise she wouldn't turn him in if I took her to him. And the quick, nodding way she said she would made me feel just a little better.\n \n The door opened on the signal, \"Sesame.\" When Butt saw somebody was with me, he jumped and the ten-inch blaster barrel grew out of his fingers. Then he recognized Sis from the pictures.\n \n He stepped to one side and, with the same sweeping gesture, holstered his blaster and pushed his green hood off. It was Sis's turn to jump when she saw the wild mass of hair rolling down his back.\n \n \"An honor, Miss Sparling,\" he said in that rumbly voice. \"Please come right in. There's a hurry-up draft.\"\n \n So Sis went in and I followed right after her. Mr. Brown closed the door. I tried to catch his eye so I could give him some kind of hint or explanation, but he had taken a couple of his big strides and was in the control section with Sis. She didn't give ground, though; I'll say that for her. She only came to his chest, but she had her arms crossed sternly.\n \n \"First, Mr. Brown,\" she began, like talking to a cluck of a kid in class, \"you realize that you are not only committing the political crime of traveling without a visa, and the criminal one of stowing away without paying your fare, but the moral delinquency of consuming stores intended for the personnel of this ship solely in emergency?\"\n \n \n\n \n He opened his mouth to its maximum width and raised an enormous hand. Then he let the air out and dropped his arm.\n \n \"I take it you either have no defense or care to make none,\" Sis added caustically.\n \n Butt laughed slowly and carefully as if he were going over each word.\n\"Wonder if all the anura talk like that. And you want to foul up Venus.\"\n \n \"We haven't done so badly on Earth, after the mess you men made of politics. It needed a revolution of the mothers before—\"\n \n \"Needed nothing. Everyone wanted peace. Earth is a weary old world.\"\n \n \"It's a world of strong moral fiber compared to yours, Mr. Alberta Lee Brown.\" Hearing his rightful name made him move suddenly and tower over her. Sis said with a certain amount of hurry and change of tone, \"What do you have to say about stowing away and using up lifeboat stores?\"\n \n \n\n \n He cocked his head and considered a moment. \"Look,\" he said finally,\n\"I have more than enough munit to pay for round trip tickets, but I couldn't get a return visa because of that brinosaur judge and all the charges she hung on me. Had to stow away. Picked the Eleanor Roosevelt because a couple of the boys in the crew are friends of mine and they were willing to help. But this lifeboat—don't you know that every passenger ship carries four times as many lifeboats as it needs? Not to mention the food I didn't eat because it stuck in my throat?\"\n \n \"Yes,\" she said bitterly. \"You had this boy steal fresh fruit for you. I suppose you didn't know that under space regulations that makes him equally guilty?\"\n \n \"No, Sis, he didn't,\" I was beginning to argue. \"All he wanted—\"\n \n \"Sure I knew. Also know that if I'm picked up as a stowaway, I'll be sent back to Earth to serve out those fancy little sentences.\"\n \n \"Well, you're guilty of them, aren't you?\"\n \n He waved his hands at her impatiently. \"I'm not talking law, female; I'm talking sense. Listen! I'm in trouble because I went to Earth to look for a wife. You're standing here right now because you're on your way to Venus for a husband. So let's.\"\n \n Sis actually staggered back. \"Let's? Let's what ? Are—are you daring to suggest that—that—\"\n \n \"Now, Miss Sparling, no hoopla. I'm saying let's get married, and you know it. You figured out from what the boy told you that I was chewing on you for a wife. You're healthy and strong, got good heredity, you know how to operate sub-surface machinery, you've lived underwater, and your disposition's no worse than most of the anura I've seen. Prolific stock, too.\"\n \n I was so excited I just had to yell: \"Gee, Sis, say yes !\"", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "107", "uid": "24f00a90d37d46bf81347bab6cf11d8f", "response_text": "Ferdinand is a young man accompanying his sister Evelyn on a spaceliner called the Eleanor Roosevelt with 300 hundred other women. The final destination of the spaceship is Venus, where the women hope to find a husband. Although women are in charge, the crew of the ship is all men. Ferdinand decides to explore the ship, and he encounters a large red sign forbidding passengers from entering the next deck. Despite being hesitant at first, he decides to break the law anyway because he is technically not a passenger on the ship. Ferdinand is amazed to see the stars, the moon, and another spaceliner take off in space. Unfazed by the next sign that tells unauthorized personnel to leave, he goes to the porthole and tries to figure out a way to open it by trying various methods. Suddenly, the door opens, and a large man plucks him inside by the throat. The man recognizes him as a brother to one of the Anura, which he defines as a herd of women looking for mates. Ferdinand explains his childhood in the Undersea and his parents, to which the other man listens intently. He also mentions that he and his sister have left Earth because she realized there would be no future there. All men have either died in wars, become negatively affected by radioactivity, or gone off to the planets. Then, the older man explains that there are little to no women on Venus, and he had no idea that women were in charge when he first went to Earth to find a wife. He had been arrested and was charged but decided to become a stowaway instead. The man, who introduces himself as Alberta (Butt) Lee Brown, gives Ferdinand the nickname Ford and talks more about his past. Eventually, he asks more about Evelyn, and Ferdinand does not overthink his intentions when he answers. Later, Evelyn then forces Ferdinand to go to a geography lecture with her, where she continuously asks questions and takes notes. However, she does not write down his answer after he corrects the purser and instead takes him back to the cabin to lecture him. They begin to debate, and Ferdinand begins to use the words and knowledge he learned from Butt. Evelyn is suspicious that somebody has been feeding him rebellious opinions, and she begins to hound him for answers after seeing he has a photo of her in his pocket. He then takes Evelyn to see Butt, and she begins to lecture him about breaking the law. While the both of them debate over Butt’s status as a criminal and stowaway, he suddenly suggests that they should get married. Evelyn is surprised by his proposal, and Ferdinand eagerly urges her to accept it. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "174bacf66234475ea95da8348816b37c", "response_text": "Ferdinand Sparling is accompanying his older sister, Evelyn, on a trip to Venus. Society on Earth is ruled by women, and there are barely enough men for each, so many women take a trip to Venus, where men are in surplus, to find a husband. Ferdinand and Evelyn are aboard the Eleanor Roosevelt. Ferdinand decides to explore the ship alone, coming across rooms and areas that passengers are not allowed to go past; he notes that he wasn't really a passenger, because men weren't citizens, and explores them anyway. Ferdinand comes across Lifeboat 47, whose doors are voice activated. He tries to open the doors, and is then pulled inside by a strange, large man with long hair. Ferdinand introduces himself, and quickly learns that the man is a Venusian. Ferdinand tells him about Undersea, where he and Evelyn are from, and his family, including the death of his parents and Evelyn's decision to migrate in search of a husband afterwards. The man tells Ferdinand about growing up on Venus, about how there, it was still a man's world. He had visited Earth to find a wife, but unaware of society there, was quickly in trouble and sentenced to prison. To avoid going broke, he stowed away on the ship. The man introduces himself as Butt, his full name being Alberta Lee Brown, and begins calling Ferdinand \"Ford\". Butt continues telling stories of Venus, such as stories of his brothers, Venusian songs and vocabulary, and Butt's blaster, a weapon that he does not allow Ford to touch. Ferdinand begins visiting Butt regularly, bringing him fresh fruit from the dining hall. Butt starts to gain interest in Evelyn, and Ferdinand answers questions about her for him. One day, Ferdinand and Evelyn are in a geography lecture, where Ferdinand discusses dunging, a concept that has been censored by Earth's libraries. This makes Evelyn suspicious, and she interrogates Ferdinand about where he got the information. Ferdinand digs his hole deeper, using Venusian vocabulary and sharing ideas of male dominance. Evelyn then finds a picture of her in Ferdinand's pocket, and demands to know what man he is speaking to. Ferdinand confesses and tells Evelyn about Butt, and he takes her to visit him. There, she yells at Butt, and threatens legal action, and Butt then makes a surprising proposal; he suggests the two get married."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "5600e0f74b444194bf3e9c69f81dc165", "response_text": "Ferdinand is on a spaceship with his elder sister. The ship is jam-packed with females going to Venus in search of husband and he exits the cabin while the women are still in their hammocks. The women at his times have all the rights and do all the important things since the Male Desuffrage Act, so the boy is admitted to the ship on behalf of his sister. He explores the empty ship in search of portholes and after some hesitation enters a forbidden area. There he looks at the stars and then tries to open a lock on the lifeboat. A huge scary man appears with a blaster and frighteningly cold gaze. Ferdinand explains that he comes from Undersea, an area on Earth, and tells his family story - his parents being one of the first married couples in Undersea and dying a while ago, leading to his sister's decision to migrate to Venus. The stranger, Butt, tells about the lack of women on Venus and his travel to Earth in search of a wife without any idea \"it's a woman's world\". So he got in trouble with the law and stowed away on this ship. His many brothers were killed in a rising and only one is left. From that day on Ferdinand keeps visiting the stowaway bringing fruits and listening to stories about Venus. Butt teaches the boy to use the blaster without giving it not hold and constantly asks about Evelyn, the sister. Once, Ferdinand attends a geography lecture on the ship with his sister and corrects the lecturer about Venusian geography. Evelyn starts eliciting where the boy learned that and the boy tells about real men working on Venus. Sis gets angry with those masculine ideas and doesn't believe them to come from a little boy. Ferdinand tries to lie but Sis suppresses him into confession and he leads her to Butt. She tells Butt about all the laws he has broken while the least responds with an appeal to sense. Suddenly, Butt simply proposes a mutually beneficial marriage to stop the debate. "}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "72fa5efbd31643e3afb5e38234f6a66b", "response_text": "Ferdinand Sparling is a passenger aboard that spaceship Eleanor Roosavelt. He lives in a future society in which only women are citizens of Earth, and he is traveling to Venus with his sister Evelyn where she is in search of a husband. Women are seen as intellectuals and the only ones fit to work in positions like the government. As everyone sleeps just after the ship has taken off, Ferdinand decides to explore the ship. He comes to the hull of the ship, the crew are still asleep. In the hull are multiple doors leading to lifeboats. Ferdinand manages to open one of them, and is pulled into the lifeboat by a huge, intimidating looking man. He relates to Ferdinand how he is from Venus and had traveled to Earth to find a wife. Once he got to Earth, he realised that the planet was run by women, and when he didn't realise he has to book into a government run hotel for transient males, assaulted a barman and resisted arrest and was held for contempt in court, he decided to escape back to Venus as a stowaway. When Ferdinand attends a geography lecture with his sister, and reveals the knowledge that he has acquired from spending his days with the Venusian Butt Lee Brown, his sister becomes suspicious. He eventually gets the information that he has been spending time with a stowaway out of him. He takes her to see Butt, where she interrogates him. He tells her how he has enough money for a ticket, but doesn't want to get caught and face charges back on Earth. He tells her how he has admired her from the stories that Ferdinand has told of her, and asks her to marry him. THE END. "}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Evelyn Sparling, and what are her traits in the story?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "107", "uid": "24f00a90d37d46bf81347bab6cf11d8f", "response_text": "Evelyn Sparling is the older sister of Ferdinand Sparling. She is seven years older than him and was born in the Undersea. Her parents were one of the first people to get married in the Undersea, and her mom was an Undersea representative in the World Council. Furthermore, her mom was heavily involved in the Male Desuffrage Act and the Maternal Revolution before being blown up in a surfacing boat alongside her husband. Evelyn herself is proficient in operating sub-surface machinery, believes firmly in the ideals of women leading politics, and is also very focused on affairs that other women do not care much about. She is also skilled at detecting lies, seeing past Ferdinand’s lies that he spoke of to protect Butt’s identity. Moreover, she has a very assertive personality. She did not back down from correcting Ferdinand about the opinions he picked up from Butt, which she classifies as masculinist and anti-socialist. Even if Butt is an intimidating man, her righteousness still shines through when she begins to scold him for escaping Earth on the Eleanor Roosevelt and about how he is also implicating Ferdinand in breaking the law by having the younger boy deliver fruit to him. Despite Evelyn’s forceful nature, she does care for her younger brother and tells him what women appreciate in men. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "174bacf66234475ea95da8348816b37c", "response_text": "Evelyn Sparling is the older sister of Ferdinand by seven years. She watches over Ferdinand and takes on almost a maternal role, scolding him and directing him throughout the story. Evelyn is strong-minded and intelligent, well-versed in politics. She represents the typical woman in the societal structure of Earth, and advises her brother to be the ideal man. Evelyn is extremely cautious and abides by the rules; when she finds out that Ferdinand has been talking to Butt, she panics and tries to put an end to it as soon as possible."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "5600e0f74b444194bf3e9c69f81dc165", "response_text": "Evelyn Sparling is Ferdinand's sister. She is migrating to Venus as many other women in search of a husband. She is bossy, lecturing and the head of the family of two - her and her brother. She is described as healthy, she is a careful student who listens and takes notes of every word. She is very serious and concentrated. She follows the law and enjoys politics, she wants to lead. She is a feminist, as most women on Earth, and she is very insistent. "}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "72fa5efbd31643e3afb5e38234f6a66b", "response_text": "Evelyn Sparling is the sister of Ferdinand Sparling. She is on the way to Venus, aboard the spaceship \"Eleanor Roosavelt '', in search of a husband. She is an intellectual woman, constantly reading. She hopes to work in a government position some day, after she has found a husband. She realises that there are only three men to every four women on Earth, so she must look elsewhere. She teaches Ferdinand to be intellectually driven, and well spoken, as women will admire those characteristics when he enters the marriage market. She is the only girl in the geography lecture who takes notes, making sure to keep her mind in shape. To Butt, Ferdinand describes Evelyn as a \"healthy girl\". When she realises what Feridinand was up to, she promises not to turn Butt in, showing her kind side. She interrogates Butt, interrogating him and scorning him for breaking the law. She does seem to let him off in the end though after he has explained his case. She is a very learned, intelligent and fair person. "}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Alberta Lee Brown, and what are his traits in the story?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "107", "uid": "24f00a90d37d46bf81347bab6cf11d8f", "response_text": "Alberta Lee Brown, nicknamed Butt, is the man from Venus who Ferdinand meets when he explores the spaceliner. Butt used to have a very large family, and his father immigrated in the eighties after being evacuated from Ontario. His family also consisted of many brothers, also named after Canadian provinces, Unfortunately, all of his brothers except Saskatchewan and him were murdered  by the MacGregor boys in an incident known as the Blue Chicago Rising. He is not one to usually act brutally, but he has not hesitated to pull the trigger on people who have wronged him. Butt has great knowledge of his blaster and is capable of explaining everything about it to Ferdinant. Additionally, he tells Ferdinand that he has killed twelve people, excluding the five government personnel, and that he considers his brother as someone who is much more willing to resort to violence. Although he is usually level-headed, Butt is also a very blunt person. He is not afraid to tell Ferdinand what he thinks of Earth, and his actions of breaking the law as a criminal on the run show that he is more than willing to take dangerous risks if he disagrees with something. Butt also tends to act rashly, suggesting to Evelyn that they get married during their first meeting despite never having interacted with her before and only having an impression of her based on what Ferdinand told him earlier. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "174bacf66234475ea95da8348816b37c", "response_text": "Alberta Lee Brown, nicknamed Butt, is a native Venusian man who is currently stowed away aboard the ship. Initially unaware of the women-ruled society on Earth, he had visited in search of a wife, gotten into trouble, and snuck onto the ship to avoid bankruptcy and legal punishment. Butt is a skilled man in combat, though he believes that violence is usually not the answer. He has long hair, something never seen on an Earthman and catching Ferdinand by surprise. Butt tells Ferdinand stories of Venus and their people, and in return he takes an interest in Evelyn, asking questions about her."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "5600e0f74b444194bf3e9c69f81dc165", "response_text": "Alberta Lee Brown or Butt is a huge man from Venus. He was born in a huge family with lots of brothers who were all but one killed in a rising. He was living on some lonely little islands on Venus and searching for a wife. He came to Earth for that purpose and soon got in trouble as he didn't know it was a women's world. He was used to men being the main figures and soon was brought to court, eventually he escaped and hid on this spaceship going back to Venus. He has a dark tan, huge body and long hair. He turns out to be an interesting storyteller and starts caring about the boy. He is also interested in the boy's sister as she fits an image of a good wife - strong, healthy and knowledgeable. He is straightforward and appeals to sense rather than law. "}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "72fa5efbd31643e3afb5e38234f6a66b", "response_text": "Alberta Lee Brown is the stowaway aboard the \"Eleanor Roosavelt\". He was born on Venus and travelled to Earth in search of a wife. He had no idea that Earth was run by women, and only realised this when he got there. He gets in trouble immediately, not following protocol for travelling to Earth as a man from another planet, assaulting a bartender, resisting arrest and \"sassing\" a judge in court. He was enraged that he had female attorneys, as on Mars, men speak for themselves, and women only walk by their side. He was sentenced to jail.He has many brothers, and he has killed many men, but doesn't consider himself \"violent\". He is very gruff and blunt. He clearly hates the idea of women having power. He asks about Ferdinand's sister, and gets annoyed at the idea of her marrying someone else. When Evelyn finds him in the lifeboat, he uses his astute skills to convince her that he hadn't really done anything wrong. He then takes on a straightforward demeanour, immediately asking her to marry him. "}]}, {"question_text": "How do the societal structures on Earth differ from Venus in the story?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "107", "uid": "24f00a90d37d46bf81347bab6cf11d8f", "response_text": "Women are generally given positions of power and have significant influence over political matters on Earth. Most of the hard labor is left to the men instead of the women. Ferdinand mentions that the crews on the spaceliner ships are always men, as women fulfill the more important tasks of running governments. It is also revealed that only women can become Earth Citizens because of the Male Desuffrage Act, which means that men cannot get an interplanetary passport. In many situations, women have the final say as well. When Butt was arrested on Earth, he could only use a female attorney to communicate his thoughts. Compared to the women, the men on Earth face much more restrictions and must follow what they say at all times. The number of men on Earth has greatly diminished, and the population primarily consists of women. \n\nOn the other hand, Venus is primarily male-inhabited, and there is a scarcity of women there. Butt says that he is unused to the saying \"it's a woman's world\" because women do not run Venus, unlike Earth. He also told his attorney that on Venus, a man could speak freely if he wanted to, and a woman's role is to support him. Men can also make a law whenever they wish with their own guns and that they should not wholly be subservient to the rule of women. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "174bacf66234475ea95da8348816b37c", "response_text": "Earth is a planet where women dominate. There are a surplus of women on Earth, way more than men, and men are not citizens on Earth as a result of the Male Desuffrage Act. Women rule the government and its decisions on Earth. Venus is quite the opposite, where men still remain prominent and in control while women are scarce. Venus is much more primitive than Earth, with the men being skilled in battle. Because of the complementary differences between Earth and Venus, many Earthwomen travel to Venus in search of a husband. "}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "5600e0f74b444194bf3e9c69f81dc165", "response_text": "After previous political structure had failed, Earth became ruled by women. Women are citizens and have all the rights, they are in every important sphere and they are the majority. They are the leaders and there is even an Act diminishing men and their rights. Men can only move as women's plus ones and are simply needed for reproduction. On Venus, on the opposite, there are more men and they seek for women. Women are searching for mild and steady men to support females in their careers. Men on Venus are in charge, they are building Venus with masculine jobs to start a civilization there, as the conditions on the planet are difficult and require real men. "}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "72fa5efbd31643e3afb5e38234f6a66b", "response_text": "The society on Earth is run by women. The \"Male Suffrage Act\" was put in place after the third atomic war. Men were seen to not be fit to work in positions such as the government anymore. Only women are eligible to be citizens. There aren't as many men anymore on Earth as most of them have died due to various wars. All intellectual and important roles are filled by women. There are also a number of cities which lie under water on Earth, they are mining communities. A lot of women leave Earth in search of a husband, as there are so few left on Earth. \nMars seems to be the opposite to this. Men still hold the power and women, stand by their side, still silent. Venus is also a newer civilisation, and it seems as if it's citizens are freer to partake in violent, criminal acts which would be punished on Earth. "}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the main setting of the story.", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "107", "uid": "24f00a90d37d46bf81347bab6cf11d8f", "response_text": "The story is mainly set on the Eleanor Roosevelt spaceliner. The ship is a luxury liner, and there are purple lights in front of the doors that light up when a girl is inside on her hammock. Ferdinand describes the ship as being very large, consisting of smooth black walls and white doors that seem to go on endlessly. There are multiple numbered decks and steam jets. The engines and machinery are all properly oiled. Multiple portholes line the hulls, and there is the feeling of gravity underfoot. Many emergency-use spacesuits in glass cases also line the crossways. Some of the decks also have signs with glowing red letters that warn passengers not to enter further. The portholes are described to have no knobs, switches, or even a button to press to open them. Inside the portholes, there are also bunks for the lifeboats. Some of the other amenities on the ship include a dining salon, library, and numbered lifeboat sections for passengers to go to if there is an emergency. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "174bacf66234475ea95da8348816b37c", "response_text": "The story takes place aboard the Eleanor Roosevelt, a spaceship leaving from Earth to Venus. The spaceship is large, and Ferdinand explores it throughout the story. The ship contains many decks, including a hull with portholes, where the view of space and stars is visible. From the portholes, Ferdinand can see the Moon and another spaceship headed towards Mars. Ferdinand then finds Lifeboat 47, where he meets Butt, who had been staying there. The ship also contains a dining room, a lecture hall, and a salon."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "5600e0f74b444194bf3e9c69f81dc165", "response_text": "The story begins on a huge spaceship packed with over three hundred females traveling to Venus. All of them have their cabins with hammocks along the corridor. Pictures of stars are everywhere in the corridor but no actual portholes. There is an outside level under the hull though and it has portholes, but the  area is prohibited to enter for the passengers. From there opens a great view at the stars and the Moon. There was also a lifeboat. The rest of the story takes place either in the cabin with Sis or in the lifeboat with Butt. Once, the setting moves to a class with a geography lecture. "}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "72fa5efbd31643e3afb5e38234f6a66b", "response_text": "The main setting of the story takes place on the \"Eleanor Roosavelt''. It is a starship headed for the planet Venus. It holds three hundred women, all of whom seem to share cabins. Everyone has their own acceleration hammock. There are lights on the cabin doors, which glow purple when the occupants are sleeping. The corridor that holds all the doors to the cabins curves out of sight, with its black walls and white doors. The ship seems to be huge. There are pictures of stars on the walls. There is a crossway, which leads to various decks , the main engine, the main jets and the gravity helix and the hull. We also know that there is a dining salon and a library. Along the walls are spacesuits cased in glass, in case of emergency. There is a huge notice sign passed deck twelve telling passengers to not go any further. Past this sign is the hull. Every twelve feet is a porthole. Farther down the corridor is the entrance to lifeboat 47, with a voice activated lock. "}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "63862", "uid": "eaf675ceadd44e69b7dfe216f18d02d4", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STALEMATE IN SPACE ***\n \n Stalemate In Space\n \n\n By CHARLES L. HARNESS\n \n \n Two mighty metal globes clung in a murderous death-struggle, lashing out with flames of poison. Yet deep in their twisted, radioactive wreckage the main battle raged—where a girl swayed sensuously before her conqueror's mocking eyes.\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Summer 1949. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n \n At first there was only the voice, a monotonous murmur in her ears.\n \n \" Die now—die now—die now —\"\n \n Evelyn Kane awoke, breathing slowly and painfully. The top of the cubicle was bulging inward on her chest, and it seemed likely that a rib or two was broken. How long ago? Years? Minutes? She had no way of knowing. Her slender right hand found the oxygen valve and turned it. For a long while she lay, hurting and breathing helplessly.\n \n \" Die now—die now—die now —\"\n \n The votron had awakened her with its heart-breaking code message, and it was her duty to carry out its command. Nine years after the great battle globes had crunched together the mentors had sealed her in this tiny cell, dormant, unwaking, to be livened only when it was certain her countrymen had either definitely won—or lost.\n \n The votron's telepathic dirge chronicled the latter fact. She had expected nothing else.\n \n She had only to find the relay beside her cot, press the key that would set in motion gigantic prime movers in the heart of the great globe, and the conquerors would join the conquered in the wide and nameless grave of space.\n \n But life, now doled out by the second, was too delicious to abandon immediately. Her mind, like that of a drowning person, raced hungrily over the memories of her past.\n \n For twenty years, in company with her great father, she had watched The Defender grow from a vast metal skeleton into a planet-sized battle globe. But it had not grown fast enough, for when the Scythian globe, The Invader , sprang out of black space to enslave the budding Terran Confederacy, The Defender was unfinished, half-equipped, and undermanned.\n \n The Terrans could only fight for time and hope for a miracle.\n  The Defender , commanded by her father, Gordon, Lord Kane, hurled itself from its orbit around Procyon and met The Invader with giant fission torpedoes.\n \n And then, in an intergalactic proton storm beyond the Lesser Magellanic Cloud, the globes lost their bearings and collided. Hordes of brute-men poured through the crushed outer armor of the stricken Defender .\n \n The prone woman stirred uneasily. Here the images became unreal and terrible, with the recurrent vision of death. It had taken the Scythians nine years to conquer The Defender's outer shell. Then had come that final interview with her father.\n \n \"In half an hour our last space port will be captured,\" he had telepathed curtly. \"Only one more messenger ship can leave The Defender . Be on it.\"\n \n \"No. I shall die here.\"\n \n His fine tired eyes had studied her face in enigmatic appraisal. \"Then die usefully. The mentors are trying to develop a force that will destroy both globes in the moment of our inevitable defeat. If they are successful, you will have the task of pressing the final button of the battle.\"\n \n \"There's an off-chance you may survive,\" countered a mentor. \"We're also working on a means for your escape—not only because you are Gordon's daughter, but because this great proton storm will prevent radio contact with Terra for years, and we want someone to escape with our secret if and when our experiments prove successful.\"\n \n \"But you must expect to die,\" her father had warned with gentle finality.\n \n She clenched her fingernails vehemently into her palms and wrenched herself back to the present.\n \n That time had come.\n \n With some effort she worked herself out of the crumpled bed and lay on the floor of her little cubicle, panting and holding her chest with both hands. The metal floor was very cold. Evidently the enemy torpedo fissionables had finally broken through to the center portions of the ship, letting in the icy breath of space. Small matter. Not by freezing would she die.\n \n She reached out her hand, felt for the all-important key, and gasped in dismay. The mahogany box containing the key had burst its metal bonds and was lying on its side. The explosion that had crushed her cubicle had been terrific.\n \n With a gurgle of horror she snapped on her wrist luminar and examined the interior of the box.\n \n It was a shattered ruin.\n \n \n\n \n Once the fact was clear, she composed herself and lay there, breathing hard and thinking. She had no means to construct another key. At best, finding the rare tools and parts would take months, and during the interval the invaders would be cutting loose from the dead hulk that clutched their conquering battle globe in a metallic rigor mortis.\n \n She gave herself six weeks to accomplish this stalemate in space.\n \n Within that time she must know whether the prime movers were still intact, and whether she could safely enter the pile room herself, set the movers in motion, and draw the moderator columns. If it were unsafe, she must secure the unwitting assistance of her Scythian enemies.\n \n Still prone, she found the first-aid kit and taped her chest expertly. The cold was beginning to make itself felt, so she flicked on the chaudiere she wore as an under-garment to her Scythian woman's uniform. Then she crawled on her elbows and stomach to the tiny door, spun the sealing gear, and was soon outside. Ignoring the pain and pulling on the side of the imitation rock that contained her cell, she got slowly to her feet. The air was thin indeed, and frigid. She turned the valve of her portable oxygen bottle almost subconsciously, while exploring the surrounding blackened forest as far as she could see. Mentally she was alert for roving alien minds. She had left her weapons inside the cubicle, except for the three things in the little leather bag dangling from her waist, for she knew that her greatest weapon in the struggle to come would be her apparent harmlessness.\n \n Four hundred yards behind her she detected the mind of a low-born Scythe, of the Tharn sun group. Very quickly she established it as that of a tired, brutish corporal, taking a mop-up squad through the black stumps and forlorn branches of the small forest that for years had supplied oxygen to the defenders of this sector.\n \n The corporal could not see her green Scythian uniform clearly, and evidently took her for a Terran woman. In his mind was the question: Should he shoot immediately, or should he capture her? It had been two months since he had seen a woman. But then, his orders were to shoot. Yes, he would shoot.\n \n Evelyn turned in profile to the beam-gun and stretched luxuriously, hoping that her grimace of pain could not be detected. With satisfaction, she sensed a sudden change of determination in the mind of the Tharn. The gun was lowered, and the man was circling to creep up behind her. He did not bother to notify his men. He wanted her first. He had seen her uniform, but that deterred him not a whit. Afterwards, he would call up the squad. Finally, they would kill her and move on. Women auxiliaries had no business here, anyway.\n \n Hips dipping, Evelyn sauntered into the shattered copse. The man moved faster, though still trying to approach quietly. Most of the radions in the mile-high ceiling had been destroyed, and the light was poor. He was not surprised when he lost track of his quarry. He tip-toed rapidly onward, picking his way through the charred and fallen branches, thinking that she must turn up again soon. He had not gone twenty yards in this manner when a howl of unbearable fury sounded in his mind, and the dull light in his brain went out.\n \n \n She fought for her life under that mile-high ceiling.\n \n\n \n Breathing deeply from her mental effort, the woman stepped from behind a great black tree trunk and hurried to the unconscious man. For I.Q.'s of 100 and less, telepathic cortical paralysis was quite effective. With cool efficiency and no trace of distaste she stripped the odorous uniform from the man, then took his weapon, turned the beam power down very low, and needled a neat slash across his throat. While he bled to death, she slipped deftly into the baggy suit, clasped the beam gun by the handle, and started up the sooty slope. For a time, at least, it would be safer to pass as a Tharn soldier than as any kind of a woman.\n \n \n\n II\n \n The inquisitor leaned forward, frowning at the girl before him.\n \n \"Name?\"\n \n \"Evelyn Kane.\"\n \n The eyes of the inquisitor widened. \"So you admit to a Terran name. Well, Terran, you are charged with having stolen passage on a supply lorry, and you also seem to be wearing the uniform of an infantry corporal as well as that of a Scythian woman auxiliary. Incidentally, where is the corporal? Did you kill him?\"\n \n He was prepared for a last-ditch denial. He would cut it short, have the guards remove her, and execution would follow immediately. In a way, it was unfortunate. The woman was obviously of a high Terran class. No—he couldn't consider that. His slender means couldn't afford another woman in his quarters, and besides, he wouldn't feel safe with this cool murderess.\n \n \"Do you not understand the master tongue? Why did you kill the corporal?\" He leaned impatiently over his desk.\n \n The woman stared frankly back at him with her clear blue eyes. The guards on either side of her dug their nails into her arms, as was their custom with recalcitrant prisoners, but she took no notice.\n \n She had analyzed the minds of the three men. She could handle the inquisitor alone or the two guards alone, but not all three.\n \n \"If you aren't afraid of me, perhaps you'd be so kind as to send the guards out for a few minutes,\" she said, placing a hand on her hip. \"I have interesting information.\"\n \n So that was it. Buy her freedom by betraying fugitive Terrans. Well, he could take the information and then kill her. He nodded curtly to the guards, and they walked out of the hut, exchanging sly winks with one another.\n \n Evelyn Kane crossed her arms across her chest and felt her broken rib gingerly. The inquisitor stared up at her in sadistic admiration. He would certainly be on hand for the execution. His anticipation was cut short with a horrible realization. Under the paralyzing force of a mind greater than his own, he reached beneath the desk and switched off the recorder.\n \n \"Who is the Occupational Commandant for this Sector,\" she asked tersely. This must be done swiftly before the guards returned.\n \n \"Perat, Viscount of Tharn,\" replied the man mechanically.\n \n \"What is the extent of his jurisdiction?\"\n \n \"From the center of the Terran globe, outward four hundred miles radius.\"\n \n \"Good. Prepare for me the usual visa that a woman clerk needs for passage to the offices of the Occupational Commandant.\"\n \n The inquisitor filled in blanks in a stiff sheet of paper and stamped a seal at its bottom.\n \n \"You will add in the portion reserved for 'comments', the following:\n'Capable clerk. Others will follow as they are found available.'\"\n \n The man's pen scratched away obediently.\n \n Evelyn Kane smiled gently at the impotent, inwardly raging inquisitor. She took the paper, folded it, and placed it in a pocket in her blouse.\n\"Call the guards,\" she ordered.\n \n He pressed the button on his desk, and the guards re-entered.\n \n \"This person is no longer a prisoner,\" said the inquisitor woodenly.\n\"She is to take the next transport to the Occupational Commandant of Zone One.\"\n \n When the transport had left, neither inquisitor nor guards had any memory of the woman. However, in the due course of events, the recording was gathered up with many others like it, boxed carefully, and sent to the Office of the Occupational Commandant, Zone One, for auditing.\n \n \n\n \n Evelyn was extremely careful with her mental probe as she descended from the transport. The Occupational Commandant would undoubtedly be high-born and telepathic. He must not have occasion to suspect a similar ability in a mere clerk.\n \n Fighting had passed this way, too, and recently. Many of the buildings were still smoking, and many of the radions high above were either shot out or obscured by slowly drifting dust clouds. The acrid odor of radiation-remover was everywhere.\n \n She caught the sound of spasmodic small-arm fire.\n \n \"What is that?\" she asked the transport attendant.\n \n \"The Commandant is shooting prisoners,\" he replied laconically.\n \n \"Oh.\"\n \n \"Where did you want to go?\"\n \n \"To the personnel office.\"\n \n \"That way.\" He pointed to the largest building of the group—two stories high, reasonably intact.\n \n She walked off down the gravel path, which was stained here and there with dark sticky red. She gave her visa to the guard at the door and was admitted to an improvised waiting room, where another guard eyed her stonily. The firing was much nearer. She recognized the obscene coughs of a Faeg pistol and began to feel sick.\n \n A woman in the green uniform of the Scythe auxiliary came in, whispered something to the guard, and then told Evelyn to follow her.\n \n In the anteroom a grey cat looked her over curiously, and Evelyn frowned. She might have to get rid of the cat if she stayed here. Under certain circumstances the animal could prove her deadliest enemy.\n \n The next room held a foppish little man, evidently a supervisor of some sort, who was studying her visa.\n \n \"I'm very happy to have you here, S'ria—ah—\"—he looked at the visa suspiciously—\"S'ria Lyn. Do sit down. But, as I was just remarking to S'ria Gerek, here\"—he nodded to the other woman, who smiled back—\"I wish the field officers would make up their august minds as to whether they want you or don't want you. Just why did they transfer you to H.Q.?\"\n \n She thought quickly. This pompous little ass would have to be given some answer that would keep him from checking with the inquisitor. It would have to be something personal. She looked at the false black in his eyebrows and sideburns, and the artificial way in which he had combed hair over his bald spot. She crossed her knees slowly, ignoring the narrowing eyes of S'ria Gerek, and smoothed the back of her braided yellow hair. He was studying her covertly.\n \n \"The men in the fighting zones are uncouth, S'ria Gorph,\" she said simply. \"I was told that you , that is, I mean—\"\n \n \"Yes?\" he was the soul of graciousness. S'ria Gerek began to dictate loudly into her mechanical transcriber.\n \n Evelyn cleared her throat, averted her eyes, and with some effort, managed a delicate flush. \"I meant to say, I thought I would be happier working for—working here. So I asked for a transfer.\"\n \n S'ria Gorph beamed. \"Splendid. But the occupation isn't over, yet, you know. There'll be hard work here for several weeks yet, before we cut loose from the enemy globe. But you do your work well\"—winking artfully—\"and I'll see that—\"\n \n He stopped, and his face took on a hunted look of mingled fear and anxiety. He appeared to listen.\n \n Evelyn tensed her mind to receive and deceive a mental probe. She was certain now that the Zone Commandant was high-born and telepathic. The chances were only fifty-fifty that she could delude him for any length of time if he became interested in her. He must be avoided if at all possible. It should not be too difficult. He undoubtedly had a dozen personal secretaries and/or concubines and would take small interest in the lowly employees that amused Gorph.\n \n Gorph looked at her uncertainly. \"Perat, Viscount of the Tharn Suns, sends you his compliments and wishes to see you on the balcony.\" He pointed to a hallway. \"All the way through there, across to the other wing.\"\n \n As she left, she heard all sound in the room stop. The transcribing and calculating machines trailed off into a watchful silence, and she could feel the eyes of the men and women on her back. She noticed then that the Faeg had ceased firing.\n \n \n\n \n Her heart was beating faster as she walked down the hall. She felt a very strong probe flooding over her brain casually, palping with mild interest the artificial memories she supplied: Escapades with officers in the combat areas. Reprimands. Demotion and transfer. Her deception of Gorph. Her anticipation of meeting a real Viscount and hoping he would let her dance for him.\n \n The questing probe withdrew as idly as it had come, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She could not hope to deceive a suspicious telepath for long. Perat was merely amused at her \"lie\" to his under-supervisor. He had accepted her at her own face value, as supplied by her false memories.\n \n She opened the door to the balcony and saw a man leaning moodily on the balustrade. He gave no immediate notice of her presence.\n \n The five hundred and sixth heir of Tharn was of uncertain age, as were most of the men of both globes. Only the left side of his face could be seen. It was gaunt and leathery, and a deep thin scar lifted the corner of his mouth into a satanic smile. A faint paunch was gathering at his abdomen, as befitted a warrior turned to boring paper work. His closely cut black hair and the two sparkling red-gemmed rings—apparently identical—on his right hand seemed to denote a certain fastidiousness and unconscious superiority. To Evelyn the jeweled fingers bespoke an unnatural contrast to the past history of the man and were symptomatic of a personality that could find stimulation only in strange and cruel pleasures.\n \n In alarm she suddenly realized that she had inadvertently let her appraisal penetrate her uncovered conscious mind, and that this probe was there awaiting it.\n \n \"You are right,\" he said coldly, still staring into the court below.\n\"Now that the long battle is over, there is little left to divert me.\"\n \n He pushed the Faeg across the coping toward her. \"Take this.\"\n \n He had not as yet looked at her.\n \n She crossed the balcony, simultaneously grasping the pistol he offered her and looking down into the courtyard. There seemed to be nearly twenty Terrans lying about, in pools of their own blood.\n \n Only one man, a Terran officer of very high rank—was left standing. His arms were folded somberly across his chest, and he studied the killer above him almost casually. But when the woman came out, their eyes met, and he started imperceptibly.\n \n Evelyn Kane felt a horrid chill creeping over her. The man's hair was white, now, and his proud face lined with deep furrows, but there could be no mistake. It was Gordon, Lord Kane.\n \n Her father.\n \n The sweat continued to grow on her forehead, and she felt for a moment that she needed only to wish hard enough, and this would be a dream. A dream of a big, kind, dark-haired man with laugh-wrinkles about his eyes, who sat her on his knee when she was a little girl and read bedtime stories to her from a great book with many pictures.\n \n An icy, amused voice came through: \"Our orders are to kill all prisoners. It is entertaining to shoot down helpless men, isn't it? It warms me to know that I am cruel and wanton, and worthy of my trust.\"\n \n Even in the midst of her horror, a cold, analytical part of her was explaining why the Commandant had called her to the balcony. Because all captured Terrans had to be killed, he hated his superiors, his own men, and especially the prisoners. A task so revolting he could not relegate to his own officers. He must do it himself, but he wanted his underlings to know he loathed them for it. She was merely a symbol of that contempt. His next words did not surprise her.\n \n \"It is even more stimulating to require a shuddering female to kill them. You are shuddering you know?\"\n \n She nodded dumbly. Her palm was so wet that a drop of sweat dropped from it to the floor. She was thinking hard. She could kill the Commandant and save her father for a little while. But then the problem of detonating the pile remained, and it would not be solved more quickly by killing the man who controlled the pile area. On the contrary if she could get him interested in her—\n \n \"So far as our records indicate,\" murmured Perat, \"the man down there is the last living Terran within The Defender . It occurred to me that our newest clerk would like to start off her duties with a bang. The Faeg is adjusted to a needle-beam. If you put a bolt between the man's eyes, you may dance for me tonight, and perhaps there will be other nights—\"\n \n The woman seemed lost in thought for a long time. Slowly, she lifted the ugly little weapon. The doomed Terran looked up at her peacefully, without expression. She lowered the Faeg, her arm trembling.\n \n Gordon, Lord Kane, frowned faintly, then closed his eyes. She raised the gun again, drew cross hairs with a nerveless wrist, and squeezed the trigger. There was a loud, hollow cough, but no recoil. The Terran officer, his eyes still closed and arms folded, sank to the ground, face up. Blood was running from a tiny hole in his forehead.\n \n The man leaning on the balustrade turned and looked at Evelyn, at first with amused contempt, then with narrowing, questioning eyes.\n \n \"Come here,\" he ordered.\n \n The Faeg dropped from her hand. With a titanic effort she activated her legs and walked toward him.\n \n He was studying her face very carefully.\n \n She felt that she was going to be sick. Her knees were so weak that she had to lean on the coping.\n \n With a forefinger he lifted up the mass of golden curls that hung over her right forehead and examined the scar hidden there, where the mentors had cut into her frontal lobe. The tiny doll they had created for her writhed uneasily in her waist-purse, but Perat seemed to be thinking of something else, and missed the significance of the scar completely.\n \n He dropped his hand. \"I'm sorry,\" he said with a quiet weariness. \"I shouldn't have asked you to kill the Terran. It was a sorry joke.\" Then: \"Have you ever seen me before?\"\n \n \"No,\" she whispered hoarsely. His mind was in hers, verifying the fact.\n \n \"Have you ever met my father, Phaen, the old Count of Tharn?\"\n \n \"No.\"\n \n \"Do you have a son?\"\n \n \"No.\"\n \n His mind was out of hers again, and he had turned moodily back, surveying the courtyard and the dead. \"Gorph will be wondering what happened to you. Come to my quarters at the eighth metron tonight.\"\n \n Apparently he suspected nothing.\n  Father. Father. I had to do it. But we'll all join you, soon. Soon.\n \n\n\n III\n \n Perat lay on his couch, sipping cold purple terif and following the thinly-clad dancer with narrowed eyes. Music, soft and subtle, floated from his communications box, illegally tuned to an officer's club somewhere. Evelyn made the rhythm part of her as she swayed slowly on tiptoe.\n \n For the last thirty \"nights\"—the hours allotted to rest and sleep—it had been thus. By \"day\" she probed furtively into the minds of the office staff, memorizing area designations, channels for official messages, and the names and authorizations of occupational field crews. By night she danced for Perat, who never took his eyes from her, nor his probe from her mind. While she danced it was not too difficult to elude the probe. There was an odd autohypnosis in dancing that blotted out memory and knowledge.\n \n \"Enough for now,\" he ordered. \"Careful of your rib.\"\n \n When he had first seen the bandages on her bare chest, that first night, she had been ready with a memory of dancing on a freshly waxed floor, and of falling.\n \n Perat seemed to be debating with himself as she sat down on her own couch to rest. He got up, unlocked his desk, and drew out a tiny reel of metal wire, which Evelyn recognized as being feed for an amateur stereop projector. He placed the reel in a projector that had been installed in the wall, flicked off the table luminar, and both of them waited in the dark, breathing rather loudly.\n \n Suddenly the center of the room was bright with a ball of light some two feet in diameter, and inside the luminous sphere were an old man, a woman, and a little boy of about four years. They were walking through a luxurious garden, and then they stopped, looked up, and waved gaily.\n \n Evelyn studied the trio with growing wonder. The old man and the boy were complete strangers. But the woman—!\n \n \n \"That is Phaen, my father,\" said Perat quietly. \"He stayed at home because he hated war. And that is a path in our country estate on Tharn-R-VII. The little boy I fail to recognize, beyond a general resemblance to the Tharn line.\n \n \"But— can you deny that you are the woman ?\"\n \n The stereop snapped off, and she sat wordless in the dark.\n \n \"There seemed to be some similarity—\" she admitted. Her throat was suddenly dry. Yet, why should she be alarmed? She really didn't know the woman.\n \n The table luminar was on now, and Perat was prowling hungrily about the room, his scar twisting his otherwise handsome face into a snarling scowl.\n \n \"Similarity! Bah! That loop of hair over her right forehead hid a scar identical to yours. I have had the individual frames analyzed!\"\n \n Evelyn's hands knotted unconsciously. She forced her body to relax, but her mind was racing. This introduced another variable to be controlled in her plan for destruction. She must make it a known quantity.\n \n \"Did your father send it to you?\" she asked.\n \n \"The day before you arrived here. It had been en route for months, of course.\"\n \n \"What did he say about it?\"\n \n \"He said, 'Your widow and son send greetings. Be of good cheer, and accept our love.' What nonsense! He knows very well I'm not married and that—well, if I have ever fathered any children, I don't know about them.\"\n \n \"Is that all he said?\"\n \n \"That's all, except that he included this ring.\" He pulled one of the duplicate jewels from his right middle finger and tossed it to her.\n\"It's identical to the one he had made for me when I entered on my majority. For a long time it was thought that it was the only stone of its kind on all the planets of the Tharn suns, a mineralogical freak, but I guess he found another. But why should I want two of them?\"\n \n Evelyn crossed the room and returned the ring.\n \n \"Existence is so full of mysteries, isn't it?\" murmured Perat.\n\"Sometimes it seems unfortunate that we must pass through a sentient phase on our way to death. This foolish, foolish war. Maybe the old count was right.\"\n \n \"You could be courtmartialed for that.\"\n \n \"Speaking of courtmartials, I've got to attend one tonight—an appeal from a death sentence.\" He arose, smoothed his hair and clothes, and poured another glass of terif . \"Some fool inquisitor can't show proper disposition of a woman prisoner.\"\n \n Evelyn's heart skipped a beat. \"Indeed?\"\n \n \"The wretch insists that he could remember if we would just let him alone. I suppose he took a bribe. You'll find one now and then who tries for a little extra profit.\"\n \n She must absolutely not be seen by the condemned inquisitor. The stimulus would almost certainly make him remember.\n \n \"I'll wait for you,\" she said indifferently, thrusting her arms out in a languorous yawn.\n \n \"Very well.\" Perat stepped to the door, then turned and looked back at her. \"On the other hand, I may need a clerk. It's way after hours, and the others have gone.\"\n \n Beneath a gesture of wry protest, she swallowed rapidly.\n \n \"Perhaps you'd better come,\" insisted Perat.\n \n She stood up, unloosed her waist-purse, checked its contents swiftly, and then followed him out.\n \n This might be a very close thing. From the purse she took a bottle of perfume and rubbed her ear lobes casually.\n \n \"Odd smell,\" commented Perat, wrinkling his nose.\n \n \"Odd scent,\" corrected Evelyn cryptically. She was thinking about the earnest faces of the mentors as they instructed her carefully in the use of the \"perfume.\" The adrenalin glands, they had explained, provided a useful and powerful stimulant to a man in danger. Adrenalin slowed the heart and digestion, increased the systole and blood pressure, and increased perspiration to cool the skin. But there could be too much of a good thing. An overdose of adrenalin, they had pointed out, caused almost immediate edema. The lungs filled rapidly with the serum and the victim ... drowned. The perfume she possessed over-stimulated, in some unknown way, the adrenals of frightened persons. It had no effect on inactive adrenals.\n \n The question remained—who would be the more frightened, she or the condemned inquisitor?\n \n She was perspiring freely, and the blonde hair on her arms and neck was standing stiffly when Perat opened the door for her and they entered the Zone Provost's chambers.", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "4c274d5afcae4ee3811b6c0986733d3d", "response_text": "Evelyn Kane finds herself in pain in the middle of fighting spaceships. She realizes that her nation has lost after 9 years of war and remembers about her task to explode both ships. When she resolves to press the button, it doesn’t work. By deception, she manages to defeat the guards on the ship. Then she gets to the inquisitor and by control of his mind makes him set her free and send her to another zone as a clerk. There a supervisor gets suspicious of her transfer but she convinces him in her honesty. After that she meets Perat, Viscount of the Tharn Suns, her main aim, and is forced to shoot her own father not to be uncovered. From that moment she becomes a private dancer for Perat by night, and a spy into the officers’ minds by day. One day Perat showed Evelyn a reel of his father, a boy, and a woman very much alike her. This reel was sent by his father with a greeting from Perat’s wife and son, though he was not married. Then the mysterious topic changes and Perat asks Evelyn to accompany him to the execution of the foolish inquisitor. Scared of being recognised by the inquisitor she used a dangerous perfume capable of causing death and entered the room. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "1f28259b956d484896dab4dc0dbc4d9b", "response_text": "Evelyn Kane is awoken by a dark message that is commanding her to die. She realizes that when she wakes up that it is time to set off the device given to her that is meant to destroy both of the globes. She goes to the device to do so only to realize that it was in shattered ruins. Dismayed but still understanding that she has a job to complete, she sets a strict and tight timeline for herself to fix the device. To fix the device, she sets about to collect components that she needs. She leaves her cubicle and carries little with her to ensure that she appears harmless. \n\nAfter she leaves her cubicle, she senses a man with a desire to kill her. Using her telepathic capabilities, she overpowers the man and strips him of his uniform and weapon. She then kills him. She then goes to get a travel visa from a man and does so by controlling his mind to get the necessary information and documents that she wants. When she makes it to the Occupational Commandant of Zone One she goes to the personal office. She flirts with the a man to explain her transfer to the headquarters. At the end of the meeting, she is directed to meet with Perat on his balcony. On her way there she feels someone reading her brain and thinks about false information to feed them what she wants them to believe about her. She gets to the balcony where Perat is standing with a gun. Below the balcony, she chills when she notices her father is the prisoner meant to be executed. She shoots her father with the justification that it was necessary to complete her mission. \n\nLater on Evelyn dances for Perat and repeats this routine, among other tasks, for a period of time. Eventually, Perat pesters and accuses her of being someone other than she says she is. He shows her a video of a woman that looks strikingly similar to her. She denies being the woman. The story ends with Evelyn being asked to accompany Perat to a prisoner’s death sentence appeal. She takes along perfume as a weapon to prevent the prisoner from recognizing her out loud. \n"}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "2d7b7cfc506d426da6e8818c13161ee8", "response_text": "Evelyn Kane awakes injured and in pain to the sound of a voice, commanding her to die. She is the daughter of Gordon Kane, the commander of The Defender, a Terran battle globe. The Defender has been in a nine year war with The Invader, its Scythian counterpart, and Evelyn had previously promised her father that she would die on the planet instead of escaping, doing so by pressing a button that would detonate the globe and both empires. As she awakes, she realizes that the time has come to press the button. However, the cell in which she stays in had been damaged by an explosion, the button being beyond repair. Determined to obtain a replacement or repair the button, but unable to do so herself, she decides to set out, using her telepathic abilities to go undercover as a Scythian guard by killing one and wearing his uniform. She then visits the Inquisitor, who questions why she is wearing a Scythian uniform and plans to take her prisoner. Evelyn uses her telepathy on the Inquisitor to make him fill out a visa for her to visit the Occupational Commandant, Perat. Once there, she visits an office, where she is questioned and sent to Perat, who wishes to see her. Evelyn realizes that Perat is even more skilled than her in the realm of telepathy, so she is not able to use her abilities on him and instead must conceal that she possesses them at all. Evelyn's first order from Perat is to execute a final prisoner in the courtyard, who ends up being her father. Reluctantly, she does so to follow orders. For the next month or so, Evelyn dances for Perat every night, using the daytime to gather any information possible to help her construct a new device. One night, Perat shows Evelyn an image of an old man, a boy, and a woman. Perat identifies the man as his father, but the woman looks identical to Evelyn. Perat's father had sent this to him, naming Evelyn as his widow; both Perat and Evelyn have no explanation. Perat then informs Evelyn that he must attend a courtmartial, where he must address a man who let a woman prisoner escape. Evelyn realizes that this man is the Inquisitor, and she must join Perat at the hearing while going unrecognized."}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "dd93c9a4ea3646bf9eac8d33a10bbef8", "response_text": "The story starts with Evelyn, a Terran at The Defender, waking up in a cubicle, badly hurt. Soon, we learn that the Terrans are in war with The Invader. There was a huge explosion, and if Evelyn gets the chance to survive, she was told to carry the secret of the Terrans. When she comes out from her cubicle, with a few broken ribs, she heard the sound of a low-born Scythe four hundred yards behind her. There, she uses her telepathic skills and avoided being caught or murdered. Instead, the Scythe drops unconscious on the ground. Then at the inquisitor, she was questioned. After having the inquisitor ask the guards to leave, she uses her telepathic skills on him. She is then set free with a visa for woman clerk, and the guards and the inquisitor does not remember a thing about her. Then finally, she gets to meet the Viscount. But then she is shocked to see her father being captured and announced as the last Terran alive in The Defender. She is further horrified by the fact that she has to kill him. Because she knows that there is no other possible way, she indeed shot her father. \n\nLater, we learn that Perat has an image of a woman that has the identical scars as the one on Evelyn’s head, this finding might affect Evelyn’s destruction plan. Later, Perat asks Evelyn to be the clerk for tonight’s coutmartial where some inquisitor did not show proper disposition of a female prisoner. Evelyn is worried, this clearly sounds like her and the inquisitor that she mind controlled. "}]}, {"question_text": "What relationship does Evelyn have with her father?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "4c274d5afcae4ee3811b6c0986733d3d", "response_text": "Evelyn was very close with her father as a child and she has a lot of warm memories of their moments together. Her father was the commander of the Defender, a powerful man, Lord Kane. He wanted to save his daughter by putting her on the last ship leaving the Defender, but she decided to stay and die with her people. This decision impressed her father, and after a brief evaluation he decided to make use of her and give her the most important task - explode both ships. Therefore, their relationship is both caring but professional and with the feeling of duty. While resolving to press the button, Evelyn remembered her father and that helped her decision. After her escape and getting to the Viscount she had to end her relationship with her father by shooting him. Trembling, full of emotions and desire to save him, Evelyn was still able to shoot as she didn't see another positive solution for them both. She felt sad and sorry, but she felt she did the right think and would soon join her father in death."}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "1f28259b956d484896dab4dc0dbc4d9b", "response_text": "Along with her father, she watched The Defender grow into a planet-sized battle globe over the course of 20 years. The Defender was commanded by her father, Gordon. Evelyn cares for her father. She is honest and mimics his passion for the war. When she was a little girl her father would play with her and read her bedtime stories, memories that she treasures. While Evelyn and her father had a good relationship and she held no ill will towards him, she eventually kills him with Perat’s gun at his orders. She does so through the justification that she cannot complete her mission if she tries to save him. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "2d7b7cfc506d426da6e8818c13161ee8", "response_text": "Evelyn and her father have a strong relationship, primarily bonded by their passion and willingness to die for their planet. Evelyn grew up witnessing Kane's success in expanding the Defender, and she took on a similar duty for the planet,  evident when she promised to die there, destroying the planet and the two at war before doing so. Kane admires his daughter for doing this. Despite Evelyn's good relationship with her father, she ultimately ends up killing him for the sake of her duty, as he becomes a prisoner of the Scythian and Evelyn is ordered to execute him. "}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "dd93c9a4ea3646bf9eac8d33a10bbef8", "response_text": "Evelyn and her father both are fighting for the Terrans. Her father wanted her to board the last ship leaving The Defender, however, Evelyn wants to stay behind to fight. While her father does not want her to stay, he approves it and reminds her that if she is to die, die usefully. Then Evelyn is tasked with pressing the final button of the battle by her father. This will give her a chance to survive, not only because she is Gordon’s father, but also because she will be tasked with the secret of the Terrans. Later when Evelyn finally gets to meet the Viscount on the balcony, he orders her to kill the last Terran living within The Defender, her father. Evelyn did not want to do this, but given the circumstances, she has to, and she says that soon she will join him. "}]}, {"question_text": "What tricks does Evelyn use to stay alive and free?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "4c274d5afcae4ee3811b6c0986733d3d", "response_text": "First, she decided to appear harmless in the struggle and left her weapon in the cubicle. She took only three things in a small bag with her when exiting her spot. Then she detected a corporal and when facing him, stretched luxuriously to change his mind to shoot her or notify his man. That was a manipulation of a woman using her charm not to get killed. When he didn't expect it, she mentally attacked the corporal to death and put on his clothes. This was her Scythian trick. When Evelyn met the inquisitor and the guards, she analyzed their minds again and with a little use of her feminine charm she pretended to be willing to give some interesting information  to the inquisitor one on one. That way she got rid of the guards, also by challenging the inquisitor asking to stay one on one if he is not afraid. Then she forced his mind to answer her questions and fill the blanks for her passage to the Occupational Commandant as a clerk and set her free. Then his memory and the guards' about her were deleted by her force of mind. When she reached the supervisor of her transfer, she made up a legend about its reasons as another trick. She complained about the men in the fighting zones and appealed to the supervisor's ego by claiming she had been told he was a better boss. When it came to Perat she followed his orders and even killed her father. She was humble and seductive and gained his trust and attention, which was her feminine trick again. In the very end she used a trick of a dangerous perfume given by her mentors. She used it not to be set up by the inquisitor. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "1f28259b956d484896dab4dc0dbc4d9b", "response_text": "Evelyn uses many tricks to ensure her safety in precarious situations. She sues her sexual appeal often. In one situation she sues her sexual appeal to distract a man from instantly killing her, giving her the opportunity to stealthy sneak upon him and kill him. \n\nIn addition to sexual appeal, she uses her telepathic capabilities to force people to carry out her wishes. She receives a visa for travel using her telepathic skills. Evelyn is careful with her telepathic capabilities when she reaches the Occupational Commandment as she correctly believes that there will be others that have the ability. \n\nAt the end of the story, Evelyn arms herself with perfume to prevent a prisoner from publicly identifying her at his death execution appeal. The perfume is capable of drowning a person if they have active adrenals. \n"}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "2d7b7cfc506d426da6e8818c13161ee8", "response_text": "Evelyn uses a combination of her smarts and her telepathic ability to stay alive and undercover. When she initially steps outside, she lures a Scythian man to her, and uses telepathic paralysis to kill him and take his uniform. She also uses telepathy and mind control on the Inquisitor, who is able to give her information and allow her to travel to the Occupational Commandant. Once there, however, her telepathy skills are less useful because the people she is surrounded by have higher capabilities than her and she must be unassuming. So, to maintain her cover, Evelyn plays along to the commands of the Scythian."}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "dd93c9a4ea3646bf9eac8d33a10bbef8", "response_text": "First, when Evelyn first leaves the cubicle, she detects a low-born Scythe four hundred yards behind her. She uses her telepathic skills and found that the Scythian corporal is taking a mop-up squad through the forest. Knowing that he wondered if he should kill or not, she made him follow her. And then she performs telepathic cortical paralysis on the man which made him drop unconsciously.\n\nLater, when the inquisitor, along with his two guards, were questioning her, she told the inquisitor to ask the guards to leave. Then she paralyzed the mind of the inquisitor to finds out the Occupational Commandant of this Sector. Before she makes them let her go, she controls the inquisitor to give him a visa for a woman clerk. Later, at the personnel office she pretends to be blushed and lies about her reason to transfer here. And when she goes to the balcony, she has to pretend to not know the man she has to kill, her father. "}]}, {"question_text": "What is the significance of the device given to Evelyn not exploding?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "4c274d5afcae4ee3811b6c0986733d3d", "response_text": "If the device exploded and all went according to the plan, both The Defender and The Invader would be destroyed immediately with all the people on board including Evelyn. Due to a technical break, Evelyn stayed alive and had to think of other ways to destroy the ships. The whole rest of the story is a sequence of events and encounters, accompanied by tricks and cunning, leading to this final aim. She is breaking free, gets trust of her enemies, and even kills her father for this great purpose of destroying their enemies. Every her action is carefully controlled in order to get to Perat and spy on the thoughts of his officers. As she doesn't have anyone left and is surrounded by enemies, she need the purpose to live, which is given by this broken exploder and her following inability to fulfill her task. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "1f28259b956d484896dab4dc0dbc4d9b", "response_text": "The device that Evelyn is given is meant to destroy both globes at war with each other when Evelyn’s side has undeniably lost. The button will potentially kill her and everyone else fighting. When Evelyn wakes, she realizes the device is broken and she needs to fix it. If the device had worked properly and was not shattered, Evelyn would not have gone to the Occupational Commandment of Zone 1 and seen her father. The device is significant because it is to put an end to the war through severe destruction and death. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "2d7b7cfc506d426da6e8818c13161ee8", "response_text": "When Evelyn vowed to stay on the planet until it was time to destroy it, leading to her death, she was given a key that would carry it out when she was commanded to do so. However, when Evelyn finally receives this command, the cubicle where she stays had suffered damage from an explosion. This caused the key that would destroy the planet to be shattered. Evelyn is unable to construct a new key herself, but she knows she must carry out the destruction as it was her final duty. So, Evelyn decides to take the risk of going undercover as a Scythian to find a way to repair or create a new device."}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "dd93c9a4ea3646bf9eac8d33a10bbef8", "response_text": "After Evelyn demands to stay behind when her father asks her to board the last ship leaving The Defender, she will be the person that press the final button of the battle. The mentors are developing some means of escape so that Evelyn, Gordon’s daughter, can survive with the secret of the Terrans. This is because the explosion that will destroy both globes will prevent radio contact with Terra for years. Thus, they needs someone to escape with their secret. But when Evelyn search for the box after the explosion, it becomes shattered ruin, which makes her set to accomplish the stalemate in space. Leading her to paralyze the soldier and escaping from the inquisitor, as well as later killing her father. "}]}, {"question_text": "How is the theme of duty explored in this story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "4c274d5afcae4ee3811b6c0986733d3d", "response_text": "Evelyn, the main character, is an example of a person following and respecting her duty. As a daughter of the commander she was brought up with a role model during the war time. Her father commanded the ship, defending the whole nation, and she witnessed it for years. It taught her to understand the duty and therefore she refused to leave the ship when she had the opportunity and accepted the important task of exploding both ships and herself as well. No matter how scared she was, she was determined to fulfill the duty placed on her by her father and mentors, and for that reason she pressed the button. When it didn't work, she kept feeling the burden of duty on her and started thinking of other means to destroy the enemies to fulfill the task. Following her duty moved her forward through pain and danger, made her find the ways to achieve it. When she shot her father, she did it because she had to, she knew it was the only right way to reach her aim instead of giving up to emotions. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "1f28259b956d484896dab4dc0dbc4d9b", "response_text": "Evelyn had an opportunity to save her life by joining the last messenger ship leaving The Defender as her father had originally instructed her to do. However, she does not want to abandon the fight because she possess a sense of duty towards the war and sticking by her father’s side. She chooses to continue fighting with an understanding that it is inevitable that her side will lose the fight. She also accepts controlling a device that will destroy both globes and has a high chance of killing her in the process. She is willing to sacrifice her life to finish the job. The theme of duty is further explored when she is told to shoot her own father. She understands that if she saves her problem she would not be able to complete the detonation that she was assigned. Evelyn shoots her father as she concludes that she has to kill him to not alert anyone of her real identity. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "2d7b7cfc506d426da6e8818c13161ee8", "response_text": "Many of the characters in the story have their own duties that they take as a matter of life or death. Kane, Evelyn's father, is the Commander of The Defender and his duty is fighting for its people, even if it ultimately leads to his death. Evelyn has a similar duty, which is to destroy the planet, and thus both the Invaders and Defenders, and sacrifice her life in doing so. Evelyn is aware of this duty and does everything she can to see that it is done, which is why she decides to go undercover when she realizes that the destruct button has been broken. By following this duty, Evelyn does things she never imagined she would have to do, such as killing her father in order to maintain her cover."}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "dd93c9a4ea3646bf9eac8d33a10bbef8", "response_text": "The theme of duty is explored through Evelyn staying behind and refusing to board the last ship to leave The Defender. Duty is seen when she wakes up with broken rib, but still remembers her mission and tries to achieve it. Evelyn and her father both put duty before each other. When Evelyn was ordered to kill her father, she felt very bad and did not want to, but she had to do it. Her father did not express anything about knowing the person who will kill him. "}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "51351", "uid": "ba58d75c003a4653a5b299a75b17ab78", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "THE SPICY SOUND OF SUCCESS\n \n \n By JIM HARMON\n \n Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Magazine August 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n Now was the captain's chance to prove he knew less than the crew—all their lives hung upon it!\n \n\n \n There was nothing showing on the video screen. That was why we were looking at it so analytically.\n \n \"Transphasia, that's what it is,\" Ordinary Spaceman Quade stated with a definite thrust of his angular jaw in my direction. \"You can take my word on that, Captain Gavin.\"\n \n \"Can't,\" I told him. \"I can't trust your opinion. I can't trust anything . That's why I'm Captain.\"\n \n \"You'll get over feeling like that.\"\n \n \"I know. Then I'll become First Officer.\"\n \n \"But look at that screen, sir,\" Quade said with an emphatic swing of his scarred arm. \"I've seen blank scanning like that before and you haven't—it's your first trip. This always means transphasia—cortex dissolution, motor area feedback, the Aitchell Effect—call it anything you like, it's still transphasia.\"\n \n \"I know what transphasia is,\" I said moderately. \"It means an electrogravitational disturbance of incoming sense data, rechanneling it to the wrong receptive areas. Besides the human brain, it also effects electronic equipment, like radar and television.\"\n \n \"Obviously.\" Quade glanced disgustedly at the screen.\n \n \"Too obvious. This time it might not be a familiar condition of many planetary gravitational fields. On this planet, that blank kinescope may mean our Big Brother kites were knocked down by hostile natives.\"\n \n \"You are plain wrong, Captain. Traditionally, alien races never interfere with our explorations. Generally, they are so alien to us they can't even recognize our existence.\"\n \n \n\n \n I drew myself up to my full height—and noticed in irritation it was still an inch less than Quade's. \"I don't understand you men. Look at yourself, Quade. You've been busted to Ordinary Spaceman for just that kind of thinking, for relying on tradition, on things that have worked before. Not only your thinking is slipshod, you've grown careless about everything else, even your own life.\"\n \n \"Just a minute, Captain. I've never been 'busted.' In the Exploration Service, we regard Ordinary Spaceman as our highest rank. With my hazard pay, I get more hard cash than you do, and I'm closer to retirement.\"\n \n \"That's a shallow excuse for complacency.\"\n \n \"Complacency! I've seen ten thousand wonders in twenty years of space, with a million variations. But the patterns repeat themselves. We learn to know what to expect, so maybe we can't maintain the reactionary caution the service likes in officers.\"\n \n \"I resent the word 'reactionary,' Spaceman! In civilian life, I was a lapidary and I learned the value of deliberation. But I never got too cataleptic to tap a million-dollar gem, which is more than my contemporaries can say, many of 'em.\"\n \n \"Captain Gavin,\" Quade said patiently, \"you must realize that an outsider like you, among a crew of skilled spacemen, can never be more than a figurehead.\"\n \n Was this the way I was to be treated? Why, this man had deliberately insulted me, his captain. I controlled myself, remembering the familiarity that had always existed between members of a crew working under close conditions, from the time of the ancient submarines and the first orbital ships.\n \n \"Quade,\" I said, \"there's only one way for us to find out which of us is right about the cause of our scanning blackout.\"\n \n \"We go out and find the reason.\"\n \n \"Exactly. We go. You and me. I hope you can stand my company.\"\n \n \"I'm not sure I can,\" he answered reluctantly. \"My hazard pay doesn't cover exploring with rookies. With all due respect, Captain.\"\n \n I clapped him on the shoulder. \"But, man, you have just been telling me all we had to worry about was common transphasia. A man with your experience could protect himself and cover even a rookie, under such familiar conditions—right?\"\n \n \"Yes, sir, I suppose I could,\" Quade said, bitterly aware he had lost out somewhere and hoping that it wasn't the start of a trend.\n \n \n\n \n \"Looks okay to me,\" I said. Quade passed a gauntlet over his faceplate.\n\"It's real. I can blur it with a smudged visor. When it blurs, it's solid.\"\n \n The landscape beyond the black corona left by our landing rockets was unimpressive. The rocky desert was made up of silicon and iron oxide, so it looked much the same as a terrestrial location. Yellowish-white sand ran up to and around reddish brown rock clawing into the pink sunlight.\n \n \"I don't understand it,\" Quade admitted. \"Transphasia hits you a foul as soon as you let it into the airlock.\"\n \n \"Apparently, Quade, this thing is going to creep up on us.\"\n \n \"Don't sound smug, Captain. It's pitty-pattying behind you too.\"\n \n The keening call across the surface of consciousness postponed my reply.\n \n The wail was ominously forlorn, defiant of description. I turned my head around slowly inside my helmet, not even sure that I had heard it.\n \n But what else can you do with a wail but hear it?\n \n Quade nodded. \"I've felt this before. It usually hits sooner. Let's trace it.\"\n \n \"I don't like this,\" I admitted. \"It's not at all what I expected from what you said about transphasia. It must be something else.\"\n \n \"It couldn't be anything else. I know what to expect. You don't. You may begin smelling sensations, tasting sounds, hearing sights, seeing tastes, touching odors—or any other combination. Don't let it bother you.\"\n \n \"Of course not. I'll soothe my nerves by counting little shocks of lanolin jumping over a loud fence.\"\n \n Quade grinned behind his faceplate. \"Good idea.\"\n \n \"Then you can have it. I'm going to try keeping my eyes open and staying alive.\"\n \n There was no reply.\n \n His expression was tart and greasy despite all his light talk, and I knew mine was the same. I tested the security rope between our pressure suits. It was a taut and virile bass.\n \n We scaled a staccato of rocks, our suits grinding pepper against our hides.\n \n The musk summit rose before us, a minor-key horizon with a shifting treble for as far as I could smell. It was primitive beauty that made you feel shocking pink inside. The most beautiful vista I had ever tasted, it couldn't be dulled even by the sensation of beef broth under my skin.\n \n \"Is this transphasia?\" I asked in awe.\n \n \"It always has been before,\" Quade remarked. \"Ready to swallow your words about this being something an old hand wouldn't recognize, Captain?\"\n \n \"I'm swallowing no words until I find out precisely how they taste here.\"\n \n \"Not a bad taste. They're pretty. Or haven't you noticed?\"\n \n \"Quade, you're right! About the colors anyway. This reminds me of an illiscope recording from a cybernetic translator.\"\n \n \"It should. I don't suppose we could understand each other if it wasn't for our morphistudy courses in reading cross-sense translations of Centauri blushtalk and the like.\"\n \n It became difficult to understand him, difficult to try talking in the face of such splendor. You never really appreciate colors until you smell them for the first time.\n \n \n\n \n Quade was as conversational as ever, though. \"I can't see irregularities occurring in a gravitational field. We must have compensated for the transphasia while we still had a point of reference, the solid reality of the spaceship. But out here, where all we have to hang onto is each other, our concept of reality goes bang and deflates to a tired joke.\"\n \n Before I could agree with one of his theories for once, a streak of spice shot past us. It bounced back tangily and made a bitter rip between the two of us. There was no time to judge its size, if it had size, or its decibel range, or its caloric count, before a small, sharp pain dug in and dwindled down to nothing in one long second.\n \n The new odor pattern in my head told me Quade was saying something I couldn't quite make out.\n \n Quade then pulled me in the direction of the nasty little pain.\n \n \"Wait a minute, Spaceman!\" I bellowed. \"Where the devil do you think you're dragging me? Halt! That's a direct order.\"\n \n He stopped. \"Don't you want to find out what that was? This is an exploration party, you know, sir.\"\n \n \"I'm not sure I do want to find out what that was just now. I didn't like the feel of it. But the important thing is for us not to get any further from the ship.\"\n \n \"That's important, Captain?\"\n \n \"To the best of my judgment, yes. This—condition—didn't begin until we got so far away from the spacer—in time or distance. I don't want it to get any worse. It's troublesome not to know black from white, but it would be a downright inconvenience not to know which way is up.\"\n \n \"Not for an experienced spaceman,\" Quade griped. \"I'm used to free-fall.\"\n \n But he turned back.\n \n \"Just a minute,\" I said. \"There was something strange up ahead. I want to see if short-range radar can get through our electrogravitational jamming here.\"\n \n I took a sighting. My helmet set projected the pattern on the cornea. Sweetness building up to a stab of pure salt—those were the blips.\n \n Beside me, there was a thin thread of violet. Quade had whistled. He was reading the map too.\n \n The slope fell away sharply in front of us, becoming a deep gorge. There was something broken and twisted at the bottom, something we had known for an instant as a streak of spice.\n \n \"There's one free-fall,\" I said, \"where you wouldn't live long enough to get used to it.\"\n \n He said nothing on the route back to the spacer.\n \n \n\n \n \"I know all about this sort of thing, Gav,\" First Officer Nagurski said expansively. He was rubbing the well-worn ears of our beagle mascot, Bruce. A heavy tail thudded on the steel deck from time to time.\n \n My finger could barely get in the chafing band of my regulation collar. I was hot and tired, fresh—in only the chronological sense—from a pressure suit.\n \n \"What do you know all about, Nagurski? Dogs? Spacemen? Women? Transphasia?\"\n \n \"Yes,\" he answered casually. \"But I had immediate reference to our current psychophysiological phenomenon.\"\n \n I collapsed into the swivel in front of the chart table. \"First off, let's hear what you know about—never mind, make it dogs.\"\n \n \"Take Bruce, for example, then—\"\n \n \"No, thanks. I was wondering why you did.\"\n \n \"I didn't.\" His dark, round face was bland. \"Bruce picked me. Followed me home one night in Chicago Port. The dog or the man who picks his own master is the most content.\"\n \n \"Bruce is content,\" I admitted. \"He couldn't be any more content and still be alive. But I'm not sure that theory works out with men. We'd have anarchy if I tried to let these starbucks pick their own master.\"\n \n \" I had no trouble when I was a captain,\" Nagurski said. \"Ease the reins on the men. Just offer them your advice, your guidance. They will soon see why the service selected you as captain; they will pick you themselves.\"\n \n \"Did your crew voluntarily elect you as their leader?\"\n \n \"Of course they did, Gav. I'm an old hand at controlling crews.\"\n \n \"Then why are you First Officer under me now?\"\n \n He blinked, then decided to laugh. \"I've been in space a good many years. I really wanted to relax a little bit more. Besides, the increase in hazard pay was actually more than my salary as a captain. I'm a notch nearer retirement too.\"\n \n \"Tell me, did you always feel this way about letting the men select their own leader?\"\n \n \n\n \n Nagurski brought out a pipe. He would have a pipe, I decided.\n \n \"No, not always. I was like you at first. Fresh from the cosmic energy test lab, suspicious of everything, trying to tell the old hands what to do. But I learned that they are pretty smart boys; they know what they are doing. You can rely on them absolutely.\"\n \n I leaned forward, elbows on knees. \"Let me tell you a thing, Nagurski. Your trust of these damn-fool spacemen is why you are no longer a captain. You can't trust anything out here in space, much less human nature. Even I know that much!\"\n \n He was pained. \"If you don't trust the men, they won't trust you, Gav.\"\n \n \"They don't have to trust me. All they have to do is obey me or, by Jupiter, get frozen stiff and thawed out just in time for court-marshal back home. Listen,\" I continued earnestly, \"these men aren't going to think of me—of us , the officers, as their leaders. As far as the crew is concerned, Ordinary Spaceman Quade is the best man on this ship.\"\n \n \"He is a good man,\" Nagurski said. \"You mustn't be jealous of his status.\"\n \n The dog growled. He must have sensed what I almost did to Nagurski.\n \n \"Never mind that for now,\" I said wearily. \"What was your idea for getting our exploration parties through this transphasia?\"\n \n \"There's only one idea for that,\" said Quade, ducking his long head and stepping through the connecting hatch. \"With the Captain's permission....\"\n \n \"Go ahead, Quade, tell him,\" Nagurski invited.\n \n \"There's only one way to wade through transphasia with any reliability,\" Quade told me. \"You keep some kind of physical contact with the spaceship. Parties are strung out on guide line, like we were, but the cable has to be run back and made fast to the hull.\"\n \n \"How far can we run it back?\"\n \n Quade shrugged. \"Miles.\"\n \n \"How many?\"\n \n \"We have three miles of cable. As long as you can feel, taste, see, smell or hear that rope anchoring you to home, you aren't lost.\"\n \n \"Three miles isn't good enough. We don't have enough fuel to change sites that often. You can't use the drive in a gravitational field, you know.\"\n \n \"What else can we do, Captain?\" Nagurski asked puzzledly.\n \n \"You've said that the spaceship is our only protection from transphasia. Is that it?\"\n \n Quade gave a curt nod.\n \n \"Then,\" I told them, \"we will have to start tearing apart this ship.\"\n \n \n\n \n Sergeant-Major Hoffman and his team were doing a good job of ripping out the side of the afterhold. Through the portal I could see the suited men expertly guiding the huge curved sections on their ray projectors.\n \n \"Cannibalizing is dangerous.\" Nagurski put his pipe in his teeth and shook his head disapprovingly.\n \n \"Spaceships have parts as interchangeable as Erector sets. We can take apart the tractors and put our ship back together again after we complete the survey.\"\n \n \"You can't assemble a jigsaw puzzle if some of the pieces are missing.\"\n \n \"You can't get a complete picture, but you can get a good idea of what it looks like. We can take off in a reasonable facsimile of a spaceship.\"\n \n \"Not,\" he persisted, \"if too many parts are missing.\"\n \n \"Nagurski, if you are looking for a job safer than space exploration, why don't you go back to testing cosmic bomb shelters?\"\n \n Nagurski flushed. \"Look here, Captain, you are being too damned cautious. There is a way one handles the survey of a planet like this, and this isn't the way.\"\n \n \"It's my way. You heard what Quade said. You know it yourself. The men have to have something tangible to hang onto out there. One slender cable isn't enough of an edge on sensory anarchy. If the product of their own technological civilization can keep them sane, I say let 'em take a part of that environment with them.\"\n \n \"In departing from standard procedure that we have learned to trust, you are risking more than a few men—you risk the whole mission in gambling so much of the ship. A captain doesn't take chances like that!\"\n \n \"I never said I wouldn't take chances. But I'm not going to take stupid chances. I might be doing the wrong thing, but I can see you would be doing it wrong.\"\n \n \"You know nothing about space, Captain! You have to trust us .\"\n \n \"That's it exactly, First Officer Nagurski,\" I said sociably. \"If you lazy, lax, complacent slobs want to do something in a particular way, I know it has to be wrong.\"\n \n I turned and found Wallace, the personnel man, standing in the hatchway.\n \n \"Pardon, Captain, but would you say we also lacked initiative?\"\n \n \"I would,\" I answered levelly.\n \n \"Then you'll be interested to hear that Spaceman Quade took a suit and a cartographer unit. He's out there somewhere, alone.\"\n \n \"The idiot!\" I yelped. \"Everyone needs a partner out there. Send out a team to follow his cable and drag him in here by it.\"\n \n \"He didn't hook on a cable, Captain,\" Wallace said. \"I suppose he intended to go beyond the three-mile limit as you demanded.\"\n \n \"Shut up, Wallace. You don't have to like me, but you can't twist what I said as long as I command this spacer.\"\n \n \"Cool off, Gav,\" Nagurski advised me. \"It's been done before. Anybody else would have been a fool to go out alone, but Quade is the most experienced man we have. He knows transphasia. Trust him.\"\n \n \"I trusted him too far by letting him run around loose. He needs a leash in more ways than one, and I'm going to put one on him.\"\n \n \n\n \n For me, it was a nightmare. I lay down in my cabin and thought. I had to think things through very carefully. One mistake was too many for me. My worst fear had been that someday I would overlook one tiny flaw and ruin a gem. Now I might have ruined an exploration and destroyed a man, not a stone, because I had missed the flaw.\n \n No one but a reckless fool would have gone out alone on a strange planet with a terrifying phenomenon, but I'd had enough evidence to see that space exploration made a man a reckless fool by doing things on one planet he had once found safe and wise on some other world.\n \n The thought intruded itself: why hadn't I recognized this before I let Quade escape to almost certain death? Wasn't it because I wanted him dead, because I resented the crew's resentment of my authority, and recognized in him the leader and symbol of this resentment?\n \n I threw away that idea along with my half-used cigarette. It might very well be true, but how did that help now?\n \n I had to think .\n \n I was going after him, that was certain. Not only for humane reasons—he was the most important member of the crew. With him around, there were only two opinions, his and mine. Without him, I'd have endless opinions to contend with.\n \n But it wouldn't do any good to go out no better equipped than he. There was no time to wait for tractors to be built if we wanted to reach him alive, and we certainly couldn't reach him five or ten miles out with our three miles of safety line. We would have to go in spacesuits.\n \n But how would that leave us any better off than Quade?\n \n Why was Quade vulnerable in his spacesuit, as I knew from experience he would be?\n \n How could we be less vulnerable, or preferably invulnerable?\n \n \n\n \n \"Captain, you got nothing to worry about,\" Quartermaster Farley said. He patted a space helmet paternally. \"You got yourself a self-contained environment. The suit's eye looks into yours at the arteries in the back of your eyeball so it can read your amber corpuscles and feed you your oxygen in the right amounts; you're a bottle-fed baby. If transphasia gets you seeing limburger, turn on the radar and you're air-conditioned as an igloo. Nothing short of a cosmic blast can dent that hide. You got it made.\"\n \n \"You are right,\" I said, \"only transphasia comes right through these air-fast joints.\"\n \n \"Something strange about the trance, Captain,\" Farley said darkly. \"Any spaceman can tell you that. Things we don't understand.\"\n \n \"I'm talking about something we do understand— sound . These suits perfectly soundproof?\"\n \n \"Well, you can pick up sound by conduction. Like putting two helmets together and talking without using radio. You can't insulate enough to block out all sound and still have a man-shaped suit. You have—\"\n \n \"I know. Then you have something like a tractor or a miniature spaceship. There isn't time for that. We will have to live with the sound.\"\n \n \"What do you think he's going to hear out there, Captain? We'd like to find one of those beautiful sirens on some planet, believe me, but—\"\n \n \"I believe you,\" I said quickly. \"Let's leave it at that. I don't know what he will hear; what's worrying me is how he'll hear it, in what sensory medium. I hope the sound doesn't blind him. His radar is his only chance.\"\n \n \"How do you figure on getting a better edge yourself, sir?\"\n \n \"I have the idea, but not the word for it. Tonal compensation, I suppose. If you can't shut out the noise, we'll have to drown it out.\"\n \n Farley nodded. \"Beat like a telephone time signal?\"\n \n \"That would do it.\"\n \n \"It would do something else. It would drive you nuts.\"\n \n \n\n \n I shrugged. \"It might be distracting.\"\n \n \"Captain, take my word for it,\" argued Farley. \"Constant sonic feedback inside a spacesuit will set you rocking against the grain.\"\n \n \"Devise some regular system of interruptions,\" I suggested.\n \n \"Then the pattern will drive you crazy. Maybe in a few months, with luck, I could plan some harmonic scale you could tolerate—\"\n \n \"We don't have a few months,\" I said. \"How about music? There's a harmonic scale for you, and we can endure it, some of it. Figaro and Asleep in the Cradle of the Deep can compensate for high-pitched outside temperatures, and Flight of the Bumble Bee to block bass notes.\"\n \n Farley nodded. \"Might work. I can program the tapes from the library.\"\n \n \"Good. There's one more thing—how are our stores of medicinal liquor?\"\n \n Farley paled. \"Captain, are you implying that I should be running short on alcohol? Where do you get off suggesting a thing like that?\"\n \n \"I'm getting off at the right stop, apparently,\" I sighed. \"Okay, Farley, no evasions. In plain figures, how much drinking alcohol do we have left?\"\n \n The quartermaster slumped a bit. \"Twenty-one liters unbroken. One more about half full.\"\n \n \"Half full? How did that ever happen? I mean you had some left ? We'll take this up later. I want you to run it through the synthesizer to get some light wine....\"\n \n \"Light wine?\" Farley looked in pain. \"Not whiskey, brandy, beer?\"\n \n \"Light wine. Then ration it out to some of the men.\"\n \n \"Ration it to the men!\"\n \n \"That's an accurate interpretation of my orders.\"\n \n \"But, sir,\" Farley protested, \"you don't give alcohol to the crew in the middle of a mission. It's not done. What reason can you have?\"\n \n \"To sharpen their taste and olfactory senses. We can turn up or block out sound. We can use radar to extend our sight, but the Space Service hasn't yet developed anything to make spacemen taste or smell better.\"\n \n \"They are going to smell like a herd of winos,\" Farley said. \"I don't like to think how they would taste.\"\n \n \"It's an entirely practical idea. Tea-tasters used to drink almond-and-barley water to sharpen their senses. I've observed that wine helps you appreciate culinary art more. Considering the mixed-up sensory data under transphasia, wine may help us to see where we are going.\"\n \n \"Yes, sir,\" Farley said obediently. \"I'll give spacemen a few quarts of wine, telling them to use it carefully for scientific purposes only, and then they will be able to see where they are going. Yes, sir.\"\n \n I turned to leave, then paused briefly. \"You can come along, Farley. I'm sure you want to see that we don't waste any of the stuff.\"\n \n \n\n \n \"There they are!\" Nagurski called. \"Quade's footsteps again, just beyond that rocky ridge.\"\n \n The landscape was rich chocolate ice cream smothered with chocolate syrup, caramel, peanuts and maple syrup, eaten while you smoked an old, mellow Havana. The footsteps were faint traces of whipped cream across the dark, rich taste of the planet.\n \n I splashed some wine from my drinking tube against the roof of my mouth to sharpen my taste. It brought out the footsteps sharper. It also made the landscape more of a teen-ager's caloric nightmare.\n \n The four of us pulled ourselves closer together by reeling in more of our safety line. Farley and Hoffman, Nagurski and myself, we were cabled together. It gave us a larger hunk of reality to hold onto. Even so, things wavered for me during a wisp of time.\n \n We stumbled over the ridge, feeling out the territory. It was a sticky job crawling over a melting, chunk-style Hershey bar. I was thankful for the invigorating Sousa march blasting inside my helmet. Before the tape had cut in, kicked on by the decibel gauge, I had heard or felt something dark and ominous in the outside air.\n \n \"Yes, this is definitely the trail of Quail,\" Nagurski said soberly.\n\"This is serious business. I must ask whoever has been giggling on this channel to shut up. Pardon me, Captain. You weren't giggling, sir?\"\n \n \"I have never giggled in my life, Nagurski.\"\n \n \"Yes, sir. That's what we all thought.\"\n \n A moment later, Nagurski added, \"Anyway, I just noticed it was my shelf—my, that is, self.\"\n \n The basso profundo performing Figaro on my headset climbed to a girlish shriek. A sliver of ice. This was the call Quade and I had first heard as we were about to troop over a cliff. I dug in my heels.\n \n \"Take a good look around, boys,\" I said. \"What do you see?\"\n \n \"Quail,\" Nagurski replied. \"That's what I see.\"\n \n \"You,\" I said carefully, \"have been in space a long time. Look again.\"\n \n \"I see our old buddy, Quail.\"\n \n I took another slosh of burgundy and peered up ahead. It was Quade. A man in a spacesuit, faceplate in the dust, two hundred yards ahead.\n \n \n\n \n Grudgingly I stepped forward, out of the shadow of the ridge. A hysterically screaming wind rocked me on my toes. We pushed on sluggishly to Quade's side, moving to the tempo of Pomp and Circumstance .\n \n Farley lugged Quade over on his back and read his gauges.\n \n The Quartermaster rose with grim deliberation, and hiccuped. \"Better get him back to the spaceship fast. I've seen this kind of thing before with transphasia. His body cooled down because of the screaming wind—psychosomatic reaction—and his heating circuits compensated for the cool flesh. The poor devil's got frostbite and heat prostration.\"\n \n \n\n \n The four of us managed to haul Quade back by using the powered joints in our suits. Hoffman suggested that he had once seen an injured man walked back inside his suit like a robot, but it was a delicate adjustment, controlling power circuits from outside a suit. It was too much for us—we were too tired, too numb, too drunk.\n \n At first sight of the spacer in the distance, transphasia left me with only a chocolate-tasting pink after-image on my retina. It was now showing bare skeleton from cannibalization for tractor parts, but it looked good to me, like home.\n \n The wailing call sounded through the amber twilight.\n \n I realized that I was actually hearing it for the first time.\n \n The alien stood between us and the ship. It was a great pot-bellied lizard as tall as a man. Its sound came from a flat, vibrating beaver tail. Others of its kind were coming into view behind it.\n \n \"Stand your ground,\" I warned the others thickly. \"They may be dangerous.\"\n \n Quade sat up on our crisscross litter of arms. \"Aliens can't be hostile. Ethnic impossibility. I'll show you.\"\n \n Quade was delirious and we were drunk. He got away from us and jogged toward the herd.\n \n \"Let's give him a hand!\" Farley shouted. \"We'll take us a specimen!\"\n \n I couldn't stop them. Being in Alpine rope with them, I went along. At the time, it even seemed vaguely like a good idea.\n \n As we lumbered toward them, the aliens fell back in a solid line except for the first curious-looking one. Quade got there ahead of us and made a grab. The creature rose into the air with a screaming vibration of his tail and landed on top of him, flattening him instantly.\n \n \"Sssh, men,\" Nagurski said. \"Leave it to me. I'll surround him.\"\n \n The men followed the First Officer's example, and the rope tying them to him. I went along cheerfully myself, until an enormous rump struck me violently in the face. My leaded boots were driven down into fertile soil, and my helmet was ringing like a bell. I got a jerky picture of the beast jumping up and down on top of the others joyously. Only the stiff space armor was holding up our slack frames.\n \n \"Let's let him escape,\" Hoffman suggested on the audio circuit.\n \n \"I'd like to,\" Nagurski admitted, \"but the other beasts won't let us get past their circle.\"\n \n It was true. The aliens formed a ring around us, and each time a bouncing boy hit the line, he only bounced back on top of us.\n \n \"Flat!\" I yelled. \"Our seams can't take much more of this beating.\"\n \n I followed my own advice and landed in the dirt beside Quade.\n \n The bouncer came to rest and regarded us silently, head on an eighty-degree angle.\n \n I was stone sober.\n \n The others were lying around me quietly, passed out, knocked out, or taking cover.\n \n The ring of aliens drew in about us, closer, tighter, as the bouncer sat on his haunches and waited for us to move.\n \n \n\n \n \"Feeling better?\" I asked Quade in the infirmary.\n \n He punched up his pillow and settled back. \"I guess so. But when I think of all the ways I nearly got myself killed out there.... How far have you got in the tractors?\"\n \n \"I'm having the tractors torn down and the parts put back into the spaceship where they belong. We shouldn't risk losing them and getting stuck here.\"\n \n \"Are you settling for a primary exploration?\"\n \n \"No. I think I had the right idea on your rescue party. You have to meet and fight a planet on its own terms. Fighting confused sounds and tastes with music and wine was crude, but it was on the right track. Out there, we understood language because we were familiar with alien languages changed to other sense mediums by cybernetic translators. Using the translator, we can learn to recognize all confused data as easily. I'm starting indoctrination courses.\"\n \n \"I doubt that that is necessary, sir,\" Quade said. \"Experienced spacemen are experienced with transphasia. You don't have to worry. In the future, I'll be able to resist sensations that tell me I'm freezing to death—if my gauges tell me it's a lie.\"\n \n I examined his bandisprayed hide. \"I think my way of gaining experience is less painful and more efficient.\"\n \n Quade squirmed. \"Yes, sir. One thing, sir—I don't understand how you got me away from those aliens.\"\n \n \"The aliens were trying to help. They knew something was wrong and they were prodding and probing. When the first tractor pulled up and the men got out, they seemed to realize our own people could help us easier than they could.\"\n \n \"I am not quite convinced that those babies just meant to help us all the time.\"\n \n \"But they did! First, that call of theirs—it wasn't to lead us into danger, but to warn us of the cliff, the freezing wind. They saw we were trying to find out things about their world, so they even offered us one of their own kind to study. Unfortunately, he was too much for us. They didn't give us their top man, of course, only the village idiot. It's just as well. We aren't allowed to dissect creatures that far up the intelligence scale.\"\n \n \"But why should they want to help us?\" Quade demanded suspiciously.\n \n \"I think it's like Nagurski's dog. The dog came to him when it wanted somebody to own it, protect it, feed it, love it. These aliens want Earthmen to colonize the planet. We came here, you see, same as the dog came to Nagurski.\"\n \n \"Well, I've learned one thing from all of this,\" Quade said. \"I've been a blind, arrogant, cocksure fool, following courses that were good on some worlds, most worlds, but not good on all worlds. I'm never going to be that foolhardy again.\"\n \n \"But you're losing confidence , Quade! You aren't sure of yourself any more. Isn't confidence a spaceman's most valuable asset?\"\n \n \"The hell it is,\" Quade said grimly. \"It's his deadliest liability.\"\n \n \"In that case, I must inform you that I am demoting you to Acting Executive Officer.\"\n \n \"Huh?\" Quade gawked. \"But dammit, Captain, you can't do that to me! I'll lose hazard pay and be that much further from retirement!\"\n \n \"That's tough,\" I sympathized, \"but in every service a chap gets broken in rank now and then.\"\n \n \"Maybe it's worth it,\" Quade said heavily. \"Now maybe I've learned how to stay alive out here. I just hope I don't forget.\"\n \n I thought about that. I was nearly through with my first mission and I could speak with experience, even if it was the least amount of experience aboard.\n \n \"Quade,\" I said, \"space isn't as dangerous as all that.\" I clapped him on the shoulder fraternally. \"You worry too much!\"", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "6af18f54b2974f7c953a753d59c50217", "response_text": "Captain Gavin and Ordinary Spaceman Quade have an argument about the blank video screen during a space exploration mission. Quade claims it is a transphasia and Captain doubts it. When the dispute gets tense, the two of them go out to find the reason for the blackout. There they smell and taste the beauty. Suddenly, a streak of spice shoots and the captain feels pain. After another short fight the two decide to go back to the spacer. There the captain has a chat with First Officer Nagurski, an ex-captain, about making Gavin's relationship with the crew better. Quade joins, and next steps towards transphasia are discussed with the final decision of the captain to tear apart the ship as it is the only protection. Many disagree again, and Quade goes out somewhere alone without a cable. Gavin blames himself for not seeing Quade's intentions and plans to follow. The crew plans on fighting the noise with music outside and increasing smell and taste by drinking wine. After these preparations, a part of the crew moves out following the cable to search for Quade. Soon they find him lying in the dust with frostbite and heat prostration. Near the ship, lizard-like aliens stand in the crew's way. A short beating occurs, and soon the captain is talking to Quade in the infirmary about the past experience. Turns out the aliens were trying to help and desired to be colonized. Quade acknowledges his mistakes and loses his confidence, for which he is demoted by the captain."}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "1b4fb2a620314fa6b387657be902df26", "response_text": "Gavin is the Captain of a spaceship that is set to explore planets and aliens. However, Transphasia, an electrogravitational disturbance that rechannels incoming sense data to the wrong receptive areas, is affecting the video screen on their ship. Quade, an Ordinary Spaceman on the spaceship, does not believe Gavin’s assumption that the alien race might be interfering with their exploration. Quade argues that, from experience, aliens generally do not even recognize their existence. Gavin asserts that Quade relies too much on tradition and experience that he is becoming careless. But Quade states that Gavin is an outsider. Not able to persuade the other, they decided to find out the reason that lead to this video screen blackout. \n\nGoing onto the desert at where they landed, Gavin started to experience Transphasia, where he tastes the views and smell the colors; while on the other hand, Quade seems to have accustomed to the strange senses. Suddenly, some kind of spice goes pass the two of them along with a second-long pain, and Quade was so curious that he dragged Gavin toward the direction of the spice, mentioning that they are an exploration party after all when Gavin ordered him to stop. After getting back to the spaceship, Nagurski, a former Captain and currently a First Officer, disputes with Gavin about trusting the Spacemen and arguing over the degree of specificity that an order should be. \n\nAfter informing Gavin their only way to escape from Transphasia, Gavin refuses and mentions another way, which is to take the spaceship apart. Nagurski is shocked and commented Gavin as being too cautious and it should not be done this way. But Gavin continued. He was then informed by Wallace, the personnel man, that Quade has left the spaceship alone by himself. Gavin is enraged and starts to plan the rescue. He asks Wallace to bring some light wine to the Spacemen to improve their taste and smell. Then Nagurski, Gavin and a few others, went to find Quade. On their way back, they came into direct contact with aliens, who tried to help the men; realizing that other men can provide better help, the aliens left. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "3cdfa76ff4c94262a3dc69d8739f0374", "response_text": "Captain Gavin and Ordinary Spacemen Quade are in an argument over transphasia. Gavin tries to demonstrate his superiority and title when Quade tells him he is wrong about the definition of transphasia. After a couple more jabs regarding experience as a spaceman and title, the two of them investigate the problem together. They begin to experience transphasia, and it turns out that Quade is correct about the color. Quade pulls him to explore further, and streaks of spice go past them only to come back and make a bitter rip. Gavin does not want to go further from the spacer, but Quade does not mind because he is an experienced spaceman. However, he stays silent once he sees how deep the freefall is. Later, Gavin has a conversation with First Officer Naguski, who claims that he has lots of experience with transphasia. Nagurski then offers advice on how a captain should treat his crew. Gavin argues that one cannot trust anything in space, while Nagurski argues that it is essential for trust to go both ways. Quade then comes in with a plan, and he explains how they would need to keep physical contact with the spaceship and suggests using a cable. Gavin decides to rip apart the spaceship instead, which Nagurski believes is terrible because it would be impossible to assemble again if there were too many missing parts. While Gavin stubbornly sticks to his plan, the personnel man Wallace informs him that Quade has already gone past the three-mile limit. He decides to go after him, finally recognizing that Quade is an essential member of the crew. Quartermaster Farley tells Gavin that he has nothing to worry about, and they discuss plans to combat transphasia. Gavin tells Farley to prepare music and give the men alcohol for medical purposes when they set off to find Quade. Once they are in the area where Quade is, they see and try to haul him back to the spaceship as soon as they can. On the way back, they run into an alien herd. Quade begins to jog towards it, and the others agree to lend him a hand to catch a specimen. The herd starts to close in on them, which eventually puts the group at a significant disadvantage. Gavin is the only sober person, as everybody else has either become knocked out, passed out, or forced to take cover. Later, Gavin visits Quade in the infirmary and tells him that he is having the spaceship put together again. Gavin explains that the aliens they encountered earlier were friendly and tried to help the spacemen. Furthermore, the aliens want them to colonize the planet. Quade blames his arrogance for his near-death experience, but Gavin tells him that confidence is a spaceman’s most important asset. He then demotes Quade to Acting Executive Officer and says that Quade worries too much about how dangerous space is to explore."}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "cced4f58e26a4eb9a323f47dc52144eb", "response_text": "Captain Gavin and First Officer Quade are on a very strange planet. This planet is very strange and it changes a person's senses, this is known as \"transphasia\" it also affects radar equipment. Gavin and Quade fight over rank, as Quade is more experienced, but Gavin is captain. They go out for a walk on the surface of this strange planet and their senses begin to get muddled. They hear a wailing call that quickly disappears, and then see a flash of light that travels into a canyon. They think this flash is a substance known as \"spice\". They make their way to the canyon to investigate, tasting colours and hearing sight, but once they reach the canyon, they decide they can't go any further. \nBack at the ship, they converse with first officer Naugurski. Gavin can't understand why the crew don't respect him, he explains to Gavin that he would have to earn the crew's respect. Quade mentioned there's only one way to make it through trasplasia, and that's to keep in contact with the ship at all times. They start to break apart the ship, so that they can put it together in a way that the whole crew will be in constant contact with the ship on a second journey together, to make it to the canyon. As they are working, Wallace, one of the personel men, tells Gavin that Quade has gone out on his own. They plan a rescue mission to save him. They think he will go beyond the three mile limit. Gavin comes up with a plan to stay oriented. They will drink wine to sharpen their sense of sight, and they will stay connected to each other through a cable. After some searching on the surface of the planet, and hearing the wailing call again, they find Quade. They haul him back in weak condition. They are met back at the ship by a group of Aliens, one of whom starts to jump on Quade, flattening him. They manage to pull Quade out of there, and when the two men talk about it later in the ship, Gavin says that the Aliens were trying to figure out what was wrong with Quade, and to help him. They let Quade go when they knew that the crew could help him more than they could. Gavin demotes Quade but they build a new sense of comradery. "}]}, {"question_text": "What is the reason and development of the conflict between the Captain and Quade?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "6af18f54b2974f7c953a753d59c50217", "response_text": "Quade holds the captain in low regard, he believes to be much more experienced and knowledgeable and disagrees with Gavin's decisions. Therefore, Quade doesn't want to obey the captain and constantly confronts him. Gavin, in turn, wants to be obeyed and considers his position enough reason to ask for that. The captain is new to the crew and he doesn't try to get closer to it, while all the other members have known each other for a while. Moreover, the captain constantly takes risks and suggests new methods, in which the crew and Quade are not sure. Gavin also feels jealous as the crew respects Quade much more than the captain himself. Quade acts on his own according to what he considers right, and Gavin has to fight him for leadership and make him obey, not to lose charge. Their relationship changes when Gavin starts blaming himself for Quade's leave and possible death, considering his own jealousy the reason of neglect. When he saves Quade, the least also changes his mind because he recognizes the foolishness of his actions and the two come to an agreement. "}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "1b4fb2a620314fa6b387657be902df26", "response_text": "The conflict between Captain and Quade started with Quade mentioning that this is the first trip for the Captain and accused of him being wrong at analyzing the reason that lead to the blackout on the video screen. The Captain argues that Quade has been relying too much on the tradition and the past experiences where he started to become careless; he supposed that Quade was busted to Ordinary Spaceman because of it and he is complacent. Quade repudiated that idea and called Captain an outsider. This conflict leads them to find out the reason that lead to this video screen blackout together. During the trip, Quade was so curious about a spice that passed not far from them that he dragged the Captain toward the direction of the spice, mentioning that they are an exploration party after all when the Captain ordered him to stop.\n\nAfterward, the Captain refuses to comply with Quade’s escape plan from Transphasia; he comes up with a much unusual plan. Later, Quade has left the spaceship alone by himself, which gets the Captain enraged and thought about if he wanted him dead. But he still goes to rescue him fearing of more opinions from the spacemen if Quade is gone. Finally, after Quade is found, they meet some aliens who tried to help them by calling and warning them. They even offered one of their kind for the men to study. Then, Quade realizes that he has been arrogant and blind, and he apologize for his actions. The Captain tells Quade to keep up with his confidence even though he demoted him afterward. And he told Quade that the space isn’t that dangerous. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "3cdfa76ff4c94262a3dc69d8739f0374", "response_text": "The reason behind Captain Gavin and Quade’s conflict is that the Captain does not trust Quade’s opinions. He believes himself superior to Quade and the rest of the crew because of his higher position as Captain, even though he is very inexperienced compared to many other crew members. He also refuses to compromise for the sake of other crew members, which causes him and Quade to clash constantly because of his stubbornness. This conflict initially develops for the worse, and Quade even goes to defy Gavin’s orders because he believes that his experience will ensure his survival. However, Gavin does choose to rescue Quade, which is a turning point in their conflict. After Quade is rescued, Gavin has a much more positive attitude towards him and even offers words of encouragement. "}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "cced4f58e26a4eb9a323f47dc52144eb", "response_text": "\nThe reason for the Captain and Quade's conflict is because while it is Captain Gavin's first space expedition, Quade has twenty years of experience under his belt. They argue over who is more knowledgeable, the captain obviously feeling threatened by Quade's experience. Quade hates that Gavin has the power to pull rank over him, and he sees him as a cocky newbie that doesn't have half the knowledge he possesses. They insult each other on a number of occasions. Quade tells the captain that he is nothing more than a figurehead to the men of the crew. When they go onto the planet's surface, they bicker about how to deal with the terrain. Their conflict is put to rest though after the captain saves Quade's life, and a sort of comradery is formed between them. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the difference in Gavin's and Nagurski's attitudes?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "6af18f54b2974f7c953a753d59c50217", "response_text": "Nagurski used to be a captain and Gavin is now, though their methods and thoughts about this position differ. Nagurski believes the crew must elect their leader, and if a captain guides the crew, this will happen. Gavin thinks such attitude will lead to anarchy. Moreover, Nagurski learned to trust his men in order to make them trust him. Gavin does not trust anyone in space and doesn't want his crew to trust him as well, simply obey. Gavin tries to adapt to the new conditions, acting creatively and according to situation, while Nagurski sticks to old patterns and rules. Nagurski is afraid to risk, he opposes taking apart the ship, being afraid to lose too many parts. Nagurski is neither afraid for Quade going out alone as he believes in the least, while the captain heads to save the man. "}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "1b4fb2a620314fa6b387657be902df26", "response_text": "Nagurski believes that as Captains, they should ease the reins on the Spacemen. They are very smart and will realize that your advice is the correct one. Thus they will volunteer to have you as their Captain. He trust the men on the ship for making smart decisions, which will in turn make the men trust him as the Captain. On the other hand, this is Gavin’s first mission ever, and he demands the men on the ship to follow his orders. He does not trust anyone in the ship, but only needs them to obey him. Moreover, he believes that the plan Gavin forms to escape the Transphasia is way too cautious, and he is risking the whole party. Gavin sees Nagurski as wanting a safer job. Gavin also thinks that Nagurski is now a First Officer instead of a Captain due to the fact that he trusted his Spacemen. However, Nagurski explains that he wants to relax a bit more and get a better pay than being a captain.  "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "3cdfa76ff4c94262a3dc69d8739f0374", "response_text": "Gavin is much more uptight and suspicious of everyone, whereas Nagurski is more laid back and has considerable trust for his crew. Gavin often says that the rest of the crew must follow his plans, even when they are much riskier and are more of a stupid gamble than the alternative solutions. He also believes that he will always know what's best because he is the captain, no matter his crew's expertise. Gavin and his crew have a lack of trust, and he generally has a much more negative attitude. Even when Nagurski tries to give him advice, he tells the older man that he cannot have lazy, incompetent slobs running the spaceship. On the other hand, Nagurski, due to his experience, has more trust in the crew. Although he says that he was once the same as Gavin, he is now much calmer and more trusting. He believes that the trust between a crew and its captains must go both ways, which ultimately leads to a captain being accepted by his crew."}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "cced4f58e26a4eb9a323f47dc52144eb", "response_text": "Gavin believes that to run a ship, you just need a crew to obey you. They don't have to like you, they don't even have to respect you, but they do have to follow the orders in which you give. Nagurski on the other hand believes that respect, a very important part about working as a captain on a spaceship, is won over. He believes that you must treat your crew with kindness and respect. You must make them see you as their friend, so that they pick you to be their leader, instead of you just being appointed theirs. You must trust them, as they trust you. Gavin thinks that you should trust nothing, especially not people. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What happens to Quade throughout the story?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "6af18f54b2974f7c953a753d59c50217", "response_text": "In the very beginning, Quade confronts the new captain in a challenging and harsh manner. Quade believes he knows everything better than the captain and neglects the least as he is a rookie. Quade goes out one on one with the captain to prove he was right about transphasia. When the two face it, Quade is trying to drag the captain towards transphasia, but has to follow the orders and return to the ship. He suggests to keep contact with the ship and run back the cable. His idea is declined and he recklessly goes out alone in a suit without the cable. There his senses are deceived and he is found lying in the dust and brought to the ship. Facing the aliens there, Quade approaches them and is beaten. He finds himself in an infirmary then and acknowledges his lack of judgement to the captain. He is demoted after and accepts this punishment. "}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "1b4fb2a620314fa6b387657be902df26", "response_text": "Quade first opposes Gavin’s assumption that the alien race might be interfering with their exploration. Quade argues, from experience, aliens generally do not even recognize their existence. Disagreeing with Quade, Gavin asserts he is relying so much on tradition and experience that he is becoming careless. But Quade states that Gavin is an outsider. Tension is created between the two, and they decided to go and find out what lead to the blackout of the screen. Gavin expected to have Transphasia when they are outside of their spaceship, and explained to Gavin about it. When the spice passes the two, Quade gets curious, but he is stopped by Gavin. Later when he proposes an escape plan, it is refused by Gavin, which then leads to Quade going off alone, only bringing with him a suit and a cartographer unit. He is found, having frostbite and heat prostration, by Gavin and his rescue team.\n\nWhen the team and Quade came across aliens on their way back to the spaceship, Quade decides to show them that aliens cannot be harmful to them. However, he was wrong. After hitting Quade with its tail and injuring some others, the aliens finally left. In the infirmary, Quade is told that the aliens were trying to help, in their own ways, and when they realized that men can provide better help, they left. This makes Quade realize that he was a fool being so arrogant and blind. And he also learns that he has been demoted to Acting Executive Officer.  "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "3cdfa76ff4c94262a3dc69d8739f0374", "response_text": "Throughout the story, Quade almost gets himself killed by the transphasia. He initially tries to propose a plan to Gavin, but the captain vehemently rejects it. After he is fed up with Captain Gavin, he decides to take the initiative and leave the spaceship to investigate on his own. He is confident in his own abilities, but this ends up getting him into trouble. Although he has a lot of experience, he admits that his arrogance and foolhardiness get him into trouble. The transphasia is a lot more dangerous than he initially assumes, and the Quartermaster even diagnoses him with frostbite and heat prostration when the team finds him. Later, he is able to recover in the infirmary."}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "cced4f58e26a4eb9a323f47dc52144eb", "response_text": "Quade starts off the story by arguing with Captain Gavin. They decide to go out and explore the surface of the mysterious planet together. They make their way through the pyschadellic minefield of the planet, all the way down to a gorge, where they spot \"spice\". They decide to turn back at this moment, as the climb down would be too dangerous. Quade walks in on the conversation between Gavin and Nagurski, where he proposes an idea. He says that the only way to get through transphasia would be to keep in constant contact with the ship. all the men would be tied together on a line. Not long after this conversation, he decides to go out onto the terrain of the planet on his own, taking with him a suit and a cartographer unit. After a long time out in the terrain, he comes down with frostbite and heat prostration, and collapses on the ground. The crew find him and drag him back to base. When they see the aliens outside of the ship, Quade walks over to one to convince the men that they're docile. The alien begins to jump on him, flattening him, until the crew pull him away. He goes back to his bunk, where he and Gavin talk. Gavin demotes him, but they begin to become friends. "}]}, {"question_text": "What is the significance of cohesion in the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "6af18f54b2974f7c953a753d59c50217", "response_text": "Every conflict and dangerous mistake throughout the story was caused by the lack of unity among the characters. The confrontation between Gavin and Quade caused the two to go alone towards transphasia and put themselves in danger. Gavin's lack of desire to work on mutual trust with the crew caused their condemnation of his actions and disobedience during such ab dangerous mission. The mutual offenses and tense arguments between the captain and the crew turned the least to Quade's side. All of this led to Quade going out alone and approaching death, for what Gavin and the crew would blame the captain himself. The arguments between the captain and different members of the crew take a lot of time and the job is done unwillingly, making it not as productive as it could be. The final peace and cohesion, on the contrary, lead to saving Quade, dealing with the aliens and coming to an understanding. "}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "1b4fb2a620314fa6b387657be902df26", "response_text": "Firstly, Gavin and Quade dispute over transphasia; not much was accomplished during their trip outside to prove their theories correct. Later, Gavin and Nagurski demonstrate their different opinions on the way of being captains. Clearly, they weren’t content and only believed that they are correct. It was only until Gavin forms the rescue team, do they manage to achieve something. They are able to find Quade, who went off alone. Later, they see aliens. It is interesting to note that even the aliens are able to work as a team, forming a circle to enclose the rescue team and prevent them from escaping. In the end, Quade realizes that he has been arrogant and acted like a fool."}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "3cdfa76ff4c94262a3dc69d8739f0374", "response_text": "The significance of cohesion is that it brings together the entire crew. Initially, all of the characters are very disconnected from each other, and there is no teamwork on the spaceship. Instead, there are only conflicts, whether between Gavin and Quade or even Nagurski and Gavin. When they form a rescue team for Quade and initiate the plan, there is finally a sense of unity between the characters. The cohesion is significant because it provides Gavin with positive character development. As it played an important factor in his first mission, it also became an opportunity for him to learn how to be a better captain for the future."}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "cced4f58e26a4eb9a323f47dc52144eb", "response_text": "Cohesion is perhaps the most important underlying theme of the story. At first, Captain Gavin is opposed to cohesion. He believes that he shouldn't trust anyone. He doesn't need the crew to like him, and he is completely fine separating himself emotionally from the rest of the men. Gavin and Quade are not a cohesive pair at the beginning of the story. They argue and try to pull rank on one another, both from intellect and experience. Nagurski explains why cohesion is so important, using his dog as a metaphor, you must win the respect and love of your crew so THEY choose YOU. The crew decide to work as a cohesive unit, working together to save Quade. It is the first time that the Captain can be seen actually working with the team, and not just giving them orders. They enter onto the planet's surface together, working as a team to save their comrade. It is only through cohesion that they overcome the transphasia, and save Quade. This is why cohesion is so significant in this story. "}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "51267", "uid": "96c9e45de562458a90d15a9e1a7bbb2e", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "END AS A HERO\n \n \n By KEITH LAUMER\n \n Illustrated by SCHELLING\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction June 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n\n Granthan's mission was the most vital of the war. It would mean instant victory—but for whom?\n \n \n\n I\n \n In the dream I was swimming in a river of white fire and the dream went on and on. And then I was awake—and the fire was still there, fiercely burning at me.\n \n I tried to move to get away from the flames, and then the real pain hit me. I tried to go back to sleep and the relative comfort of the river of fire, but it was no go. For better or worse, I was alive and conscious.\n \n I opened my eyes and took a look around. I was on the floor next to an unpadded acceleration couch—the kind the Terrestrial Space Arm installs in seldom-used lifeboats. There were three more couches, but no one in them. I tried to sit up. It wasn't easy but, by applying a lot more will-power than should be required of a sick man, I made it. I took a look at my left arm. Baked. The hand was only medium rare, but the forearm was black, with deep red showing at the bottom of the cracks where the crisped upper layers had burst....\n \n There was a first-aid cabinet across the compartment from me. I tried my right leg, felt broken bone-ends grate with a sensation that transcended pain. I heaved with the other leg, scrabbled with the charred arm. The crawl to the cabinet dwarfed Hillary's trek up Everest, but I reached it after a couple of years, and found the microswitch on the floor that activated the thing, and then I was fading out again....\n \n \n\n \n I came out of it clear-headed but weak. My right leg was numb, but reasonably comfortable, clamped tight in a walking brace. I put up a hand and felt a shaved skull, with sutures. It must have been a fracture. The left arm—well, it was still there, wrapped to the shoulder and held out stiffly by a power truss that would keep the scar tissue from pulling up and crippling me. The steady pressure as the truss contracted wasn't anything to do a sense-tape on for replaying at leisure moments, but at least the cabinet hadn't amputated. I wasn't complaining.\n \n As far as I knew, I was the first recorded survivor of contact with the Gool—if I survived.\n \n I was still a long way from home, and I hadn't yet checked on the condition of the lifeboat. I glanced toward the entry port. It was dogged shut. I could see black marks where my burned hand had been at work.\n \n I fumbled my way into a couch and tried to think. In my condition—with a broken leg and third-degree burns, plus a fractured skull—I shouldn't have been able to fall out of bed, much less make the trip from Belshazzar's CCC to the boat; and how had I managed to dog that port shut? In an emergency a man was capable of great exertions. But running on a broken femur, handling heavy levers with charred fingers and thinking with a cracked head were overdoing it. Still, I was here—and it was time to get a call through to TSA headquarters.\n \n I flipped the switch and gave the emergency call-letters Col. Ausar Kayle of Aerospace Intelligence had assigned to me a few weeks before. It was almost five minutes before the \"acknowledge\" came through from the Ganymede relay station, another ten minutes before Kayle's face swam into view. Even through the blur of the screen I could see the haggard look.\n \n \"Granthan!\" he burst out. \"Where are the others? What happened out there?\" I turned him down to a mutter.\n \n \"Hold on,\" I said. \"I'll tell you. Recorders going?\" I didn't wait for an answer—not with a fifteen-minute transmission lag. I plowed on:\n \n \" Belshazzar was sabotaged. So was Gilgamesh —I think. I got out. I lost a little skin, but the aid cabinet has the case in hand. Tell the Med people the drinks are on me.\"\n \n I finished talking and flopped back, waiting for Kayle's reply. On the screen, his flickering image gazed back impatiently, looking as hostile as a swing-shift ward nurse. It would be half an hour before I would get his reaction to my report. I dozed off—and awoke with a start. Kayle was talking.\n \n \"—your report. I won't mince words. They're wondering at your role in the disaster. How does it happen that you alone survived?\"\n \n \"How the hell do I know?\" I yelled—or croaked. But Kayle's voice was droning on:\n \n \"... you Psychodynamics people have been telling me the Gool may have some kind of long-range telehypnotic ability that might make it possible for them to subvert a loyal man without his knowledge. You've told me yourself that you blacked out during the attack—and came to on the lifeboat, with no recollection of how you got there.\n \n \"This is war, Granthan. War against a vicious enemy who strike without warning and without mercy. You were sent out to investigate the possibility of—what's that term you use?—hyper-cortical invasion. You know better than most the risk I'd be running if you were allowed to pass the patrol line.\n \n \"I'm sorry, Granthan. I can't let you land on Earth. I can't accept the risk.\"\n \n \"What do I do now?\" I stormed. \"Go into orbit and eat pills and hope you think of something? I need a doctor!\"\n \n Presently Kayle replied. \"Yes,\" he said. \"You'll have to enter a parking orbit. Perhaps there will be developments soon which will make it possible to ... ah ... restudy the situation.\" He didn't meet my eye. I knew what he was thinking. He'd spare me the mental anguish of knowing what was coming. I couldn't really blame him; he was doing what he thought was the right thing. And I'd have to go along and pretend—right up until the warheads struck—that I didn't know I'd been condemned to death.\n \n \n\n II\n \n I tried to gather my wits and think my way through the situation. I was alone and injured, aboard a lifeboat that would be the focus of a converging flight of missiles as soon as I approached within battery range of Earth. I had gotten clear of the Gool, but I wouldn't survive my next meeting with my own kind. They couldn't take the chance that I was acting under Gool orders.\n \n I wasn't, of course. I was still the same Peter Granthan, psychodynamicist, who had started out with Dayan's fleet six weeks earlier. The thoughts I was having weren't brilliant, but they were mine, all mine....\n \n But how could I be sure of that?\n \n Maybe there was something in Kayle's suspicion. If the Gool were as skillful as we thought, they would have left no overt indications of their tampering—not at a conscious level.\n \n But this was where psychodynamics training came in. I had been reacting like any scared casualty, aching to get home and lick his wounds. But I wasn't just any casualty. I had been trained in the subtleties of the mind—and I had been prepared for just such an attack.\n \n Now was the time to make use of that training. It had given me one resource. I could unlock the memories of my subconscious—and see again what had happened.\n \n I lay back, cleared my mind of extraneous thoughts, and concentrated on the trigger word that would key an auto-hypnotic sequence....\n \n Sense impressions faded. I was alone in the nebulous emptiness of a first-level trance. I keyed a second word, slipped below the misty surface into a dreamworld of vague phantasmagoric figures milling in their limbo of sub-conceptualization. I penetrated deeper, broke through into the vividly hallucinatory third level, where images of mirror-bright immediacy clamored for attention. And deeper....\n \n \n\n \n The immense orderly confusion of the basic memory level lay before me. Abstracted from it, aloof and observant, the monitoring personality-fraction scanned the pattern, searching the polydimensional continuum for evidence of an alien intrusion.\n \n And found it.\n \n As the eye instantaneously detects a flicker of motion amid an infinity of static detail, so my inner eye perceived the subtle traces of the probing Gool mind, like a whispered touch deftly rearranging my buried motivations.\n \n I focused selectively, tuned to the recorded gestalt.\n \n \" It is a contact, Effulgent One! \"\n \n \" Softly, now! Nurture the spark well. It but trembles at the threshold.... \"\n \n \" It is elusive, Master! It wriggles like a gorm-worm in the eating trough! \"\n \n A part of my mind watched as the memory unreeled. I listened to the voices—yet not voices, merely the shape of concepts, indescribably intricate. I saw how the decoy pseudo-personality which I had concretized for the purpose in a hundred training sessions had fought against the intruding stimuli—then yielded under the relentless thrust of the alien probe. I watched as the Gool operator took over the motor centers, caused me to crawl through the choking smoke of the devastated control compartment toward the escape hatch. Fire leaped up, blocking the way. I went on, felt ghostly flames whipping at me—and then the hatch was open and I pulled myself through, forcing the broken leg. My blackened hand fumbled at the locking wheel. Then the blast as the lifeboat leaped clear of the disintegrating dreadnought—and the world-ending impact as I fell.\n \n At a level far below the conscious, the embattled pseudo-personality lashed out again—fighting the invader.\n \n \" Almost it eluded me then, Effulgent Lord. Link with this lowly one! \"\n \n \" Impossible! Do you forget all my teachings? Cling, though you expend the last filament of your life-force! \"\n \n Free from all distraction, at a level where comprehension and retention are instantaneous and total, my monitoring basic personality fraction followed the skillful Gool mind as it engraved its commands deep in my subconscious. Then the touch withdrew, erasing the scars of its passage, to leave me unaware of its tampering—at a conscious level.\n \n Watching the Gool mind, I learned.\n \n The insinuating probe—a concept regarding which psychodynamicists had theorized—was no more than a pattern in emptiness....\n \n But a pattern which I could duplicate, now that I had seen what had been done to me.\n \n Hesitantly, I felt for the immaterial fabric of the continuum, warping and manipulating it, copying the Gool probe. Like planes of paper-thin crystal, the polyfinite aspects of reality shifted into focus, aligning themselves.\n \n Abruptly, a channel lay open. As easily as I would stretch out my hand to pluck a moth from a night-flower, I reached across the unimaginable void—and sensed a pit blacker than the bottom floor of hell, and a glistening dark shape.\n \n There was a soundless shriek. \" Effulgence! It reached out—touched me! \"\n \n \n\n \n Using the technique I had grasped from the Gool itself, I struck, stifling the outcry, invaded the fetid blackness and grappled the obscene gelatinous immensity of the Gool spy as it spasmed in a frenzy of xenophobia—a ton of liver writhing at the bottom of a dark well.\n \n I clamped down control. The Gool mind folded in on itself, gibbering. Not pausing to rest, I followed up, probed along my channel of contact, tracing patterns, scanning the flaccid Gool mind....\n \n I saw a world of yellow seas lapping at endless shores of mud. There was a fuming pit, where liquid sulphur bubbled up from some inner source, filling an immense natural basin. The Gool clustered at its rim, feeding, each monstrous shape heaving against its neighbors for a more favorable position.\n \n \n\n \n I probed farther, saw the great cables of living nervous tissue that linked each eating organ with the brain-mass far underground. I traced the passages through which tendrils ran out to immense caverns where smaller creatures labored over strange devices. These, my host's memory told me, were the young of the Gool. Here they built the fleets that would transport the spawn to the new worlds the Prime Overlord had discovered, worlds where food was free for the taking. Not sulphur alone, but potassium, calcium, iron and all the metals—riches beyond belief in endless profusion. No longer would the Gool tribe cluster—those who remained of a once-great race—at a single feeding trough. They would spread out across a galaxy—and beyond.\n \n But not if I could help it.\n \n The Gool had evolved a plan—but they'd had a stroke of bad luck.\n \n In the past, they had managed to control a man here and there, among the fleets, far from home, but only at a superficial level. Enough, perhaps, to wreck a ship, but not the complete control needed to send a man back to Earth under Gool compulsion, to carry out complex sabotage.\n \n Then they had found me, alone, a sole survivor, free from the clutter of the other mind-fields. It had been their misfortune to pick a psychodynamicist. Instead of gaining a patient slave, they had opened the fortress door to an unseen spy. Now that I was there, I would see what I could steal.\n \n A timeless time passed. I wandered among patterns of white light and white sound, plumbed the deepest recesses of hidden Gool thoughts, fared along strange ways examining the shapes and colors of the concepts of an alien mind.\n \n I paused at last, scanning a multi-ordinal structure of pattern within pattern; the diagrammed circuits of a strange machine.\n \n I followed through its logic-sequence; and, like a bomb-burst, its meaning exploded in my mind.\n \n From the vile nest deep under the dark surface of the Gool world in its lonely trans-Plutonian orbit, I had plucked the ultimate secret of their kind.\n \n Matter across space.\n \n \n\n \n \"You've got to listen to me, Kayle,\" I shouted. \"I know you think I'm a Gool robot. But what I have is too big to let you blow it up without a fight. Matter transmission! You know what that can mean to us. The concept is too complex to try to describe in words. You'll have to take my word for it. I can build it, though, using standard components, plus an infinite-area antenna and a moebius-wound coil—and a few other things....\"\n \n I harangued Kayle for a while, and then sweated out his answer. I was getting close now. If he couldn't see the beauty of my proposal, my screens would start to register the radiation of warheads any time now.\n \n Kayle came back—and his answer boiled down to \"no.\"\n \n I tried to reason with him. I reminded him how I had readied myself for the trip with sessions on the encephaloscope, setting up the cross-networks of conditioned defensive responses, the shunt circuits to the decoy pseudo-personality, leaving my volitional ego free. I talked about subliminal hypnotics and the resilience quotient of the ego-complex.\n \n I might have saved my breath.\n \n \"I don't understand that psychodynamics jargon, Granthan,\" he snapped.\n\"It smacks of mysticism. But I understand what the Gool have done to you well enough. I'm sorry.\"\n \n I leaned back and chewed the inside of my lip and thought unkind thoughts about Colonel Ausar Kayle. Then I settled down to solve the problem at hand.\n \n I keyed the chart file, flashed pages from the standard index on the reference screen, checking radar coverages, beacon ranges, monitor stations, controller fields. It looked as though a radar-negative boat the size of mine might possibly get through the defensive net with a daring pilot, and as a condemned spy, I could afford to be daring.\n \n And I had a few ideas.\n \n \n\n III\n \n The shrilling of the proximity alarm blasted through the silence. For a wild moment I thought Kayle had beaten me to the punch; then I realized it was the routine DEW line patrol contact.\n \n \"Z four-oh-two, I am reading your IFF. Decelerate at 1.8 gee preparatory to picking up approach orbit....\"\n \n The screen went on droning out instructions. I fed them into the autopilot, at the same time running over my approach plan. The scout was moving in closer. I licked dry lips. It was time to try.\n \n I closed my eyes, reached out—as the Gool mind had reached out to me—and felt the touch of a Signals Officer's mind, forty thousand miles distant, aboard the patrol vessel. There was a brief flurry of struggle; then I dictated my instructions. The Signals Officer punched keys, spoke into his microphone:\n \n \"As you were, Z four-oh-two. Continue on present course. At Oh-nineteen seconds, pick up planetary for re-entry and let-down.\"\n \n I blanked out the man's recollection of what had happened, caught his belated puzzlement as I broke contact. But I was clear of the DEW line now, rapidly approaching atmosphere.\n \n \"Z four-oh-two,\" the speaker crackled. \"This is planetary control. I am picking you up on channel forty-three, for re-entry and let-down.\"\n \n There was a long pause. Then:\n \n \"Z four-oh-two, countermand DEW Line clearance! Repeat, clearance countermanded! Emergency course change to standard hyperbolic code ninety-eight. Do not attempt re-entry. Repeat: do not attempt re-entry!\"\n \n It hadn't taken Kayle long to see that I'd gotten past the outer line of defense. A few more minutes' grace would have helped. I'd play it dumb, and hope for a little luck.\n \n \"Planetary, Z four-oh-two here. Say, I'm afraid I missed part of that, fellows. I'm a little banged up—I guess I switched frequencies on you. What was that after 'pick up channel forty-three'...?\"\n \n \"Four-oh-two, sheer off there! You're not cleared for re-entry!\"\n \n \"Hey, you birds are mixed up,\" I protested. \"I'm cleared all the way. I checked in with DEW—\"\n \n It was time to disappear. I blanked off all transmission, hit the controls, following my evasive pattern. And again I reached out—\n \n A radar man at a site in the Pacific, fifteen thousand miles away, rose from his chair, crossed the darkened room and threw a switch. The radar screens blanked off....\n \n For an hour I rode the long orbit down, fending off attack after attack. Then I was clear, skimming the surface of the ocean a few miles southeast of Key West. The boat hit hard. I felt the floor rise up, over, buffeting me against the restraining harness.\n \n I hauled at the release lever, felt a long moment of giddy disorientation as the escape capsule separated from the sinking lifeboat deep under the surface. Then my escape capsule was bobbing on the water.\n \n I would have to risk calling Kayle now—but by voluntarily giving my position away, I should convince him I was still on our side—and I was badly in need of a pick-up. I flipped the sending key.\n \n \"This is Z four-oh-two,\" I said. \"I have an urgent report for Colonel Kayle of Aerospace Intelligence.\"\n \n Kayle's face appeared. \"Don't fight it, Granthan,\" he croaked. \"You penetrated the planetary defenses—God knows how. I—\"\n \n \"Later,\" I snapped. \"How about calling off your dogs now? And send somebody out here to pick me up, before I add sea-sickness to my other complaints.\"\n \n \"We have you pinpointed,\" Kayle cut in. \"It's no use fighting it, Granthan.\"\n \n \n\n \n I felt cold sweat pop out on my forehead. \"You've got to listen, Kayle,\" I shouted. \"I suppose you've got missiles on the way already. Call them back! I have information that can win the war—\"\n \n \"I'm sorry, Granthan,\" Kayle said. \"It's too late—even if I could take the chance you were right.\"\n \n A different face appeared on the screen.\n \n \"Mr. Granthan, I am General Titus. On behalf of your country, and in the name of the President—who has been apprised of this tragic situation—it is my privilege to inform you that you will be awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor—posthumously—for your heroic effort. Although you failed, and have in fact been forced, against your will, to carry out the schemes of the inhuman enemy, this in no way detracts from your gallant attempt. Mr. Granthan, I salute you.\"\n \n The general's arm went up in a rigid gesture.\n \n \"Stow that, you pompous idiot!\" I barked. \"I'm no spy!\"\n \n Kayle was back, blanking out the startled face of the general.\n \n \"Goodbye, Granthan. Try to understand....\"\n \n I flipped the switch, sat gripping the couch, my stomach rising with each heave of the floating escape capsule. I had perhaps five minutes. The missiles would be from Canaveral.\n \n I closed my eyes, forced myself to relax, reached out....\n \n I sensed the distant shore, the hot buzz of human minds at work in the cities. I followed the coastline, found the Missile Base, flicked through the cluster of minds.\n \n \"— missile on course; do right, baby. That's it, right in the slot. \"\n \n I fingered my way through the man's mind and found the control centers. He turned stiffly from the plotting board, tottered to a panel to slam his hand against the destruct button.\n \n Men fell on him, dragged him back. \"— fool, why did you blow it? \"\n \n I dropped the contact, found another, who leaped to the panel, detonated the remainder of the flight of six missiles. Then I withdrew. I would have a few minutes' stay of execution now.\n \n I was ten miles from shore. The capsule had its own power plant. I started it up, switched on the external viewer. I saw dark sea, the glint of star-light on the choppy surface, in the distance a glow on the horizon that would be Key West. I plugged the course into the pilot, then leaned back and felt outward with my mind for the next attacker.\n \n \n\n IV\n \n It was dark in the trainyard. I moved along the tracks in a stumbling walk. Just a few more minutes, I was telling myself. A few more minutes and you can lie down ... rest....\n \n \n The shadowed bulk of a box car loomed up, its open door a blacker square. I leaned against the sill, breathing hard, then reached inside for a grip with my good hand.\n \n Gravel scrunched nearby. The beam of a flashlight lanced out, slipped along the weathered car, caught me. There was a startled exclamation. I ducked back, closed my eyes, felt out for his mind. There was a confused murmur of thought, a random intrusion of impressions from the city all around. It was hard, too hard. I had to sleep—\n \n I heard the snick of a revolver being cocked, and dropped flat as a gout of flame stabbed toward me, the imperative Bam! echoing between the cars. I caught the clear thought:\n \n \"God-awful looking, shaved head, arm stuck out; him all right—\"\n \n I reached out to his mind and struck at random. The light fell, went out, and I heard the unconscious body slam to the ground like a poled steer.\n \n It was easy—if I could only stay awake.\n \n I gritted my teeth, pulled myself into the car, crawled to a dark corner behind a crate and slumped down. I tried to evoke a personality fraction to set as a guard, a part of my mind to stay awake and warn me of danger. It was too much trouble. I relaxed and let it all slide down into darkness.\n \n \n\n \n The car swayed, click-clack, click-clack. I opened my eyes, saw yellow sunlight in a bar across the litter on the floor. The power truss creaked, pulling at my arm. My broken leg was throbbing its indignation at the treatment it had received—walking brace and all—and the burned arm was yelling aloud for more of that nice dope that had been keeping it from realizing how bad it was. All things considered, I felt like a badly embalmed mummy—except that I was hungry. I had been a fool not to fill my pockets when I left the escape capsule in the shallows off Key Largo, but things had been happening too fast.\n \n I had barely made it to the fishing boat, whose owner I had coerced into rendezvousing with me before shells started dropping around us. If the gunners on the cruiser ten miles away had had any luck, they would have finished me—and the hapless fisherman—right then. We rode out a couple of near misses, before I put the cruiser's gunnery crew off the air.\n \n At a fishing camp on the beach, I found a car—with driver. He dropped me at the railyard, and drove off under the impression he was in town for groceries. He'd never believe he'd seen me.\n \n Now I'd had my sleep. I had to start getting ready for the next act of the farce.\n \n I pressed the release on the power truss, gingerly unclamped it, then rigged a sling from a strip of shirt tail. I tied the arm to my side as inconspicuously as possible. I didn't disturb the bandages.\n \n I needed new clothes—or at least different ones—and something to cover my shaved skull. I couldn't stay hidden forever. The yard cop had recognized me at a glance.\n \n I lay back, waiting for the train to slow for a town. I wasn't unduly worried—at the moment. The watchman probably hadn't convinced anyone he'd actually seen me. Maybe he hadn't been too sure himself.\n \n The click-clack slowed and the train shuddered to a stop. I crept to the door, peered through the crack. There were sunny fields, a few low buildings in the distance, the corner of a platform. I closed my eyes and let my awareness stretch out.\n \n \"— lousy job. What's the use? Little witch in the lunch room ... up in the hills, squirrel hunting, bottle of whiskey.... \"\n \n I settled into control gently, trying not to alarm the man. I saw through his eyes the dusty box car, the rust on the tracks, the listless weeds growing among cinders, and the weathered boards of the platform. I turned him, and saw the dingy glass of the telegraph window, a sagging screen door with a chipped enameled cola sign.\n \n I walked the man to the door, and through it. Behind a linoleum-topped counter, a coarse-skinned teen-age girl with heavy breasts and wet patches under her arms looked up without interest as the door banged.\n \n My host went on to the counter, gestured toward the waxed-paper-wrapped sandwiches under a glass cover. \"I'll take 'em all. And candy bars, and cigarettes. And give me a big glass of water.\"\n \n \"Better git out there and look after yer train,\" the girl said carelessly. \"When'd you git so all-fired hungry all of a sudden?\"\n \n \"Put it in a bag. Quick.\"\n \n \"Look who's getting bossy—\"\n \n My host rounded the counter, picked up a used paper bag, began stuffing food in it. The girl stared at him, then pushed him back. \"You git back around that counter!\"\n \n She filled the bag, took a pencil from behind her ear.\n \n \"That'll be one eighty-five. Cash.\"\n \n My host took two dog-eared bills from his shirt pocket, dropped them on the counter and waited while the girl filled a glass. He picked it up and started out.\n \n \"Hey! Where you goin' with my glass?\"\n \n The trainman crossed the platform, headed for the boxcar. He slid the loose door back a few inches against the slack latch, pushed the bag inside, placed the glass of water beside it, then pulled off his grimy railroader's cap and pushed it through the opening. He turned. The girl watched from the platform. A rattle passed down the line and the train started up with a lurch. The man walked back toward the girl. I heard him say: \"Friend o' mine in there—just passin' through.\"\n \n I was discovering that it wasn't necessary to hold tight control over every move of a subject. Once given the impulse to act, he would rationalize his behavior, fill in the details—and never know that the original idea hadn't been his own.\n \n I drank the water first, ate a sandwich, then lit a cigarette and lay back. So far so good. The crates in the car were marked \"U. S. Naval Aerospace Station, Bayou Le Cochon\". With any luck I'd reach New Orleans in another twelve hours. The first step of my plan included a raid on the Delta National Labs; but that was tomorrow. That could wait.\n \n \n\n \n It was a little before dawn when I crawled out of the car at a siding in the swampy country a few miles out of New Orleans. I wasn't feeling good, but I had a stake in staying on my feet. I still had a few miles in me. I had my supplies—a few candy bars and some cigarettes—stuffed in the pockets of the tattered issue coverall. Otherwise, I was unencumbered. Unless you wanted to count the walking brace on my right leg and the sling binding my arm.\n \n I picked my way across mushy ground to a pot-holed black-top road, started limping toward a few car lights visible half a mile away. It was already hot. The swamp air was like warmed-over subway fumes. Through the drugs, I could feel my pulse throbbing in my various wounds. I reached out and touched the driver's mind; he was thinking about shrimps, a fish-hook wound on his left thumb and a girl with black hair. \"Want a lift?\" he called.\n \n I thanked him and got in. He gave me a glance and I pinched off his budding twinge of curiosity. It was almost an effort now not to follow his thoughts. It was as though my mind, having learned the trick of communications with others, instinctively reached out toward them.\n \n An hour later he dropped me on a street corner in a shabby marketing district of the city and drove off. I hoped he made out all right with the dark-haired girl. I spotted a used-clothing store and headed for it.\n \n Twenty minutes later I was back on the sidewalk, dressed in a pinkish-gray suit that had been cut a long time ago by a Latin tailor—maybe to settle a grudge. The shirt that went with it was an unsuccessful violet. The black string tie lent a dubious air of distinction. I'd swapped the railroader's cap for a tarnished beret. The man who had supplied the outfit was still asleep. I figured I'd done him a favor by taking it. I couldn't hope to pass for a fisherman—I wasn't the type. Maybe I'd get by as a coffee-house derelict.\n \n I walked past fly-covered fish stalls, racks of faded garments, grimy vegetables in bins, enough paint-flaked wrought iron to cage a herd of brontosauri, and fetched up at a cab stand. I picked a fat driver with a wart.\n \n \"How much to the Delta National Laboratories?\"\n \n He rolled an eye toward me, shifted his toothpick.\n \n \"What ya wanna go out there for? Nothing out there.\"\n \n \"I'm a tourist,\" I said. \"They told me before I left home not to miss it.\"\n \n He grunted, reached back and opened the door. I got in. He flipped his flag down, started up with a clash of gears and pulled out without looking.\n \n \"How far is it?\" I asked him.\n \n \"It ain't far. Mile, mile and a quarter.\"\n \n \"Pretty big place, I guess.\"\n \n He didn't answer.\n \n We went through a warehousing district, swung left along the waterfront, bumped over railroad tracks, and pulled up at a nine-foot cyclone fence with a locked gate.\n \n \"A buck ten,\" my driver said.\n \n I looked out at the fence, a barren field, a distant group of low buildings. \"What's this?\"\n \n \"This is the place you ast for. That'll be a buck ten, mister.\"\n \n I touched his mind, planted a couple of false impressions and withdrew. He blinked, then started up, drove around the field, pulled up at an open gate with a blue-uniformed guard. He looked back at me.\n \n \"You want I should drive in, sir?\"\n \n \"I'll get out here.\"\n \n He jumped out, opened my door, helped me out with a hand under my good elbow. \"I'll get your change, sir,\" he said, reaching for his hip.\n \n \"Keep it.\"\n \n \"Thank YOU.\" He hesitated. \"Maybe I oughta stick around. You know.\"\n \n \"I'll be all right.\"\n \n \"I hope so,\" he said. \"A man like you—you and me—\" he winked. \"After all, we ain't both wearing berets fer nothing.\"\n \n \"True,\" I said. \"Consider your tip doubled. Now drive away into the sunrise and forget you ever saw me.\"", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "70b688f92d904fa89a0e99379f8f0ef0", "response_text": "Peter Granthan, a psychodynamicist, wakes up severely injured on a lifeboat after his spaceship \"Belshazzar\" has been mysteriously destroyed. He has no recollection of what has happened to him. He thinks to himself he must have been the first ever survivor to come into contact with a \"Gool\", a fierce alien race who infiltrate and control people's minds. He makes a call to TSA headquarters back on Earth, who control the mission from the ground. On the other end is Ausar Kayle. Kayle asks Granthan what happened to the rest of the crew. Granthan relays how he got out. Kayle thinks that Granthan may be under the control of the Gool, and he may be the one who inadvertently caused the destruction of the ship. Kayle orders Granthan to stay in Orbit around Earth. Granthan knows that if he stays in orbit, there is sure to be a fleet of missiles on their way towards him. He decides to enter his own mind, in search of a Gool spy that may be tampering with it. He dives deep into his sub conscious. He looks into his memory, where he finds a Gool. He sees how it controlled him as he unknowingly made his way onto the lifeboat, escaping the burning ship. \nHe follows the Gool, studying how it infiltrates minds and controls them as it goes. He reaches out to the Gool, infiltrating it's mind. Granthan takes control of the Gool's mind, inside of his own. He see's the Gool's home world. In it he finds the secret to Matter across space. \nHe calls Kayle, explaining the information he has just found. Kayle doesn't believe Granthan, still thinking he is being controlled by the Gool. Granthan plans his course of re-entry. Now knowing the secret to the Gool's mind control, he uses the technique to convince various stations on Earth to allow him to land, and not raise suspicion. He eventually lands in the ocean, some distance outside Key West. \nKayle realises Granthan has landed, and he readies the missiles. Granthan finds the man's mind who controls the missiles, enters it, and forces him to hit the self destruct button. He infiltrates a fisherman's mind, convincing him to take him to shore, while bombs are being dropped around them. He then gets a driver to take him to a rail yard.  \nWhen he arrives at a train yard, he lays down to rest in the empty box car where he just fought a guard. While the train is stopped, he convinces a man to buy him food and water. \nThe train is headed for New Orleans, and his plan is to raid the Delta National Labs. He arrives before dawn, and crawls out of the car.He gets a man to drive him into town, where he buys new clothes and hails a cab, who takes him to the Laboratories. They arrive, Granthan gets out of the car. The taxi driver drives away. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "665c4958a9804d4aa6116663d47f70ca", "response_text": "Granthan is a psychodynamicist on a mission to end Earth's war with the Gool, a species tribe with the goal to spread an empire throughout the galaxy through tactics of mind control. Granthan awakes on a lifeboat, in immense pain and terrible condition. He presumably came in contact with the Gool and ended up alive, though scathed. However, he has no recollection of what happened or how he managed to escape on the lifeboat. Granthan decides to call TSA headquarters, informing Col. Kayle that he is alive. Kayle is skeptical, aware of the Gool's ability to mind control, and believes that Granthan has been brainwashed due to his inability to recall the events. Kayle decides that he cannot risk a potentially sabotaged Granthan returning to Earth, and Granthan realizes that he is going to be executed. Urgently in need of a solution, Granthan remembers his training before the mission, how he had learned how to access his subconscious to obtain memories. He decides to do so, going back and seeing his mind being probed by the Gool and controlling his actions. Upon seeing how the Gool had taken control of his mind, Granthan realizes that he, too, can replicate the practice, and he probes the mind of a Gool. When he probes the Gool, he finds that they plan to take over the galaxy through matter transmission. Granthan calls Kayle again, explaining what he has seen and begging for him to change his mind. However, Kayle still refuses to let Granthan return. Granthan then decides to take matters into his own hands, using his mind control techniques to make officers allow him through and shut off radar detection. As Granthan lands on the ocean's surface, he calls Kayle again in an effort to convince him. Instead, Kayle tells him it's too late, and General Titus appears through transmission to salute him before his execution. At the last second, though, Granthan uses his mind control on the man controlling the missiles, and detonates them, buying him time to take the escape capsule to shore. Granthan eventually ends up at a trainyard, fending off an attacker before sneaking onto a train car. As the train stops near a store, he overtakes the train conductor and walks in, buying food and water for himself. At dawn, he exits the train car and gets a lift from a driver on the road, asking him to take him to Delta National Laboratories. "}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "78785ca4b4924ed7ba671179ee13637c", "response_text": "Peter Granthan is a psychodynamics who was assigned by Colonel Ausar Kayle, an Aerospace Intelligence officer, to go on the Belshazzar to investigate the possibility of hyper-cortical invasion. According to Granthan, they’ve found the Gool, but something has happened to them that the Belshazzar was sabotaged and only Granthan survives this devastation. And the story begins with Granthan in some kind of dream where he is badly burned and really hurt, except, this was not simply a dream. He wakes up realizing that his right leg is broken, his skull is probably fractured, and his left arm was badly burned. Surprisingly, those injuries have been taken care of. There is a walking brace on his leg, stiches on his head, arm is wrapped to the shoulder; to add onto that, he somehow got himself onto a lifeboat. Granthan has no idea how he might be capable of doing any of those given his conditions. \n\nHe quickly contacted Kayle and told him about the disaster, but Kayle is suspicious of the reasons that he is the only survivor. The Gool is known to have telehypnotic abilities that can control men without them being aware of it, thus Granthan’s blackout during the attack seems to be fitting. Kayle refuses to land Granthan on Earth. Granthan decides to figure out what actually happened to him during the blackout. Since he is a psychodynamicist, he can gather the memories of his subconscious and see what has occurred. Going multiple levels deeper within the memory, he finally finds the Gool. He watches the Gool take over his body and his mind, he sees how the Gool managed to get him onto the lifeboat, and he sees how the Gool is able to withdraw from the mind, leaving no marks behind. Then, he learns the way that the Gool controls the mind, which allows him to acknowledge the plan that the Gool has – to spread out across the galaxy and beyond. Finally, he learns their secret, matter transmission.\n\nAfter grasping the idea of sending matter across space, Granthan tells Kayle that he can build it. Kayle rejects the idea despite Granthan’s effort to explain his training on encephaloscope. Granthan then uses the Gool’s ability that he has just gained to pass the outer defense line, to disappear off the radar, and to avoid the missiles, etc. He is able to get to a train for some sleep, and later he gets off near the New Orleans, where he changed his clothes and goes to Delta National Laboratories. With the ability to control people’s mind, Granthan seems to be able to do things as he wish. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "7e8fcb69f02d4588ab9c9f41fd4cb8f6", "response_text": "The story begins with Granthan waking up on a couch. He recognizes his left arm is heavily injured and the rest of his body is not faring much better either. He ponders whether he is the first survivor of contacting the Gool and even more if he is even alive. He musters his strength to get a call to TSA headquarters where Ausar Kayle answers the emergency call. Kayle accuses Granthan of being mind-controlled by the Gool and Granthan excitedly states that he is not. Nevertheless, Kayle instructs Granthan to go to a waiting post in orbit. Granthan knows that he is to do this so he can be killed. He does not want to go through with that and so he thinks about alternatives to help himself.\n\nGranthan begins to use his training to try to deduce whether he is being controlled by the Gool. He breaks through a hallucinatory third level during this process of discovery. Granthan is seemingly able to successfully enter a Gool’s mind. In the process, he learns more about how they live, where their young reside, and their goals. Granthan believes that he was able to successfully spy on the Gool and that he can safely return to Earth to relay what he has learned. He believes that their ultimate secret is matter across space. Granthan tells Kayle what he has learned and is dismayed that Kayle still refuses to allow him to return to Earth. Kayle is still not convinced and doesn’t trust him. \n\nGranthan decides to use his newfound mind-control technique to get back to Earth by getting his ship cleared to return by an unwitting officer. He heads towards Earth. He lands on the water and contacts Kayle again to convince him. Kayle still does not relent. Granthan continues to insist that he is not a spy, but Kayle does not budge. Granthan begins to use mind control to his advantage to keep himself safe while back on Earth. He is still heavily injured and has trouble keeping himself awake. It is evident that he is learning how to better use the mind control capabilities through his practice on others. Eventually, Granthan ends up at Delta National Laboratories after convincing a cab driver to take him there. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Why Does Kayle Not Allow Granthan to Re-enter Earth?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "70b688f92d904fa89a0e99379f8f0ef0", "response_text": "Kayle does not allow Granthan to re-enter Earth because he has a suspicion that Granthan might be under the control of the Gool. When Grantahn escaped the burning Belshazzar, he blacked out. He has no recollection of the incident. Granthan can also offer no explanation to Kayle as to why the ship was destroyed, or what happened to the rest of his crew. It is mysterious that Granthan was able to escape, especially while being so badly injured. Kayle believes that the Gool might have been the one to infiltrate Granthan's mind, and sabotage the mission, saving Granthan's life so he could return as a host to Earth. This would then allow the Gool to have a spy on Earth during the ongoing war. Even when Granthan tries to explain to Kayle that he has broken into a Gool's mind, and found data that would win them the war, Kayle is not convinced. He believes that the Gool will try anything to allow it's host to land. Kayle readies the missiles in the direction of Granthan's ship. While it is obvious that Kayle likes Granthan, and feels deep sympathy for him, he cannot take the risk of letting a Gool onto planet Earth. Even when Granthan manages to get past initial security on his descent, Kayle orders Granthan to stop. When Granthan lands on Earth, Kayle sends missiles to his location to take him out. Kayle can't let Granthan free on planet Earth, the risk would be too big in the war between mankind and the Gools. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "665c4958a9804d4aa6116663d47f70ca", "response_text": "Kayle does not allow Granathan to re-enter Earth because he sees it as too much of a risk. He knows that Granthan came in contact with the Gool on his mission, and he is aware that the Gool have mind-controlling and hypnotic powers; when Granthan calls Kayle but is unable to remember the events that occurred, Kayle is sure that he has fallen victim to the Gool's tactics. If Granthan was potentially brainwashed or being controlled, he could risk sabotaging Earth from the inside, so Kayle decides that it is not worth the danger."}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "78785ca4b4924ed7ba671179ee13637c", "response_text": "Kayle learns that the Gool may have the ability to somehow telehypnotically control a man’s mind without the man knowing it. And Granthan has told Kayle that he has experienced a period of blackout during the disaster, including not knowing how he ended up on the lifeboat. Moreover, since Granthan is the only one that is left alive after coming in contact with the Gool; no one has survived before. Thus, Kayle assumes that there is a risk of the Gool using the telehypnotical ability on Granthan, which means that Gool can still be in control of Granthan, as well as control him even if he is back on Earth. Since they are at war with the Gool, it seems reasonable, from what he knows, for Kayle to refuse Granthan to re-enter Earth. \n\nWhen Granthan tries to explain matter transmission to Kayle, Kayle states that he does not understand the jargons that he is using, and refuses him again. After Granthan breaks through the planetary defenses, he got in contact with Kayle again. Kayle says that it is too late even if he do want to believe him. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "7e8fcb69f02d4588ab9c9f41fd4cb8f6", "response_text": "Kayle believes that Granthan is being mind-controlled by the Gool and does not want to risk him returning to Earth and decimating them. He cannot trust that Granthan is acting of his own volition and would rather be safe. The Gool are known to use telehypontic abilities to control others without them knowing. Kayle does not want to risk Earth being experiencing hyper-cortical invasion, which would be a possibility if Granthan returned to Earth and was in fact being controlled. Based on the risk, Kayle orders Granthan not to return to Earth. "}]}, {"question_text": "How does Granthan learn, and use the Gool's mind control technique to his advantage?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "70b688f92d904fa89a0e99379f8f0ef0", "response_text": "While searching his mind, Granthan finds a Gool, using this technique on him. He watches as the Gool traces out the pattern in his subconscious, studies and remembers it. He uses this new found skill to infiltrate the Gool's mind. In it he sees the Gool's home world, along with the rest of its colony, and a piece of theory that could win the war for Earth. When Granthan returns to the physical world to share the good news with Kayle, he is dismissed, and sentenced to death. Granthan flies onto Earth, reaches out with his mind, finding a Signal Officer. He convinces the officer to let him pass. He then infiltrates the mind of a radar man, forcing him to switch off the radar screens. When Kayle decides to send a fleet of missiles to Granthan's location in the pacific, Granthan reaches out with his mind, finds two men working in the control centre, and forces them to hit the self-destruct button on the bombs, saving his life. To escape his life boat, Granthan coerces a fisherman into taking him onboard, where they narrowly miss bombs being dropped on them. He then forces a driver to take him into town, convincing him that he was going to buy groceries. Granthan arrives at the train yard and uses his new power to defeat a guard who recognises Granthan, with a gun cocked towards him. While the train is stopped, he orders a man to buy him food, water and cigarettes, which the man delivers to him. When his train arrives in New Orleans, he forces a driver to take him into town, quickly diminishing his curiosity. When the cab driver arrives at the laboratories, Granthan finally convinces the man to drive around the field, leading to an open gate, where Granthan exits the car. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "665c4958a9804d4aa6116663d47f70ca", "response_text": "Granthan initially tries to use his psychodynamic abilities to go back into his subconscious and find hidden memories of his interaction with the Gool. While in his subconscious, he is able to witness how the Gool probed his mind to control it. By seeing the techniques used by the Gool, Granthan is able to replicate it using his knowledge of psychodynamics, and through this, he probes the mind of the Gool and realizes that he has mastered the practice. Granthan uses this new ability to his advantage, particularly by mind controlling the officers that are ordered to prevent him from entering Earth and execute him. He also uses the ability through his escape route, controlling drivers, train conductors, and other passerby to help advance himself."}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "78785ca4b4924ed7ba671179ee13637c", "response_text": "Granthan learns about the mind control techniques by going deeper into his subconscious mind and seeing the Gool withdrawing from him without his consciousness being aware of it. He realizes that he can do the same thing as the Gool. Then he decides to use the mind control to his own advantage by mind controlling people so that he can do things as he wish. \n\nFirstly, Granthan was able to use what he learned to spy on the Gool and learn about matter transmission. Later, he uses the mind control abilities during his escape. He first tries to control the Signal Officer to allow him to pass the outer line of defense. Then, he mind controls the radar man to make his radar disappear so that his location will not be exposed; he controls the  control center man, and he destroys one of the missiles; he prevents many attackers from attacking him while inside the capsule. Later on the train, he controls a man for food. Through practice, Granthan also discovers that the person being controlled can behave rationally once an impulse to act is given; there is no need for complete control over the person. At New Orleans, he controls a taxi driver to take him to the gate of Delta National Laboratories and makes him forget that he ever saw Granthan. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "7e8fcb69f02d4588ab9c9f41fd4cb8f6", "response_text": "Granthan learns how to use the Gool’s mind control technique by watching them and utilizing their own methods. He has previous experience with psychodynamics that helps inform him on how to do so. He notices their patterns and tries to duplicate them. He essentially copies their techniques of probing into tiny planes of existence to reach a black pit where the Gool seem to exist. He does so seemingly successfully and is able to locate and control a Gool’s mind, according to his own analysis. He uses it to learn more about Gool’s and how they live. \n\nGranthan begins to use the mind control technique to allow people to do his bidding for him. He is able to reenter Earth by controlling an officer to grant him entry. He detonates the missiles that are launched to kill him through the same methods. He prevents himself from being attacked or potentially caught while at the train yard by again using mind control. He saves the life of himself and the fisherman helping him by destroying a cruiser’s gunnery crew. He is able to get food for himself by mind-controlling a man to go and buy him goods at a store. He is able to hitch a ride on a truck by influencing the driver. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the setting of the story?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "70b688f92d904fa89a0e99379f8f0ef0", "response_text": "The setting of this story changes as the plot develops. When we first meet Peter Granthan, he is onboard a lifeboat, which is fleeing the now destroyed starship \"Belshazzar\". He travels within range of planet Earth, where, onboard the lifeboat, he dives into his mind. He enters the setting of his subconscious, which is stark and expansive. Granthan travels through the Gool's mind to its home world. It is described as being filled with yellow seas, reaching out to \"endless shores of mud\". There are great pits, rising with steam, in which the gools feed. Each cable underground connects to a massive brain, which controls the species. After Granthan's trip to the Alien planet, he lands on Earth, in the Pacific ocean, just outside of Key West. He then moves onto a train yard, where he boards a train. The train stops in a rural area, where, using a host, Granthan goes into a local shop to buy food. He travels to New  Orleans, where he arrives the next day. The area is swampy. He forces a driver to take him to a shappy, run down corner of the city, where he goes into a second hand clothes shop. Granthan then makes his way to the Delta National Laboratories, surrounded by a large field. He moves around the field in his taxi, before arriving at open gates to the Labs. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "665c4958a9804d4aa6116663d47f70ca", "response_text": "The first part of the story takes place on Granthan's lifeboat, which contains a first aid cabinet, a couch, and an escape capsule with an energy plant. At the beginning of the story, Granthan is in space, on his way to Earth. He then ends up in the ocean, near Key West, where he leads his escape capsule to shore. Through the rest of the story, Granthan travels through many different settings, including a fishing camp, a trainyard, and a train car, before ending up at a clothing store and being driven to Delta National Laboratories. "}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "78785ca4b4924ed7ba671179ee13637c", "response_text": "The story takes place in a seldom-used lifeboat where there are three couches in the room. There is a screen that allows connection from the Ganymede relay station to be seen in a fifteen-minute transmission lag. Then after Granthan ¬¬¬goes into the Gool itself where there are yellow seas with shores of mud, and there is also a fuming pit. He sees the cables of nervous tissue as well as young Gool. Later after Granthan breaks through the barrier, he gets to a trainyard. At the trainyard, there was some tracks that Granthan walks along, he finally gets into a car and walks up later finding a bar across from where he is. There is a linoleum-topped counter behind the door. Finally, Granthan arrives near New Orleans where he gets into a taxi and goes to the Delta National Laboratories after changing his cloths at the marketing district of the city."}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "7e8fcb69f02d4588ab9c9f41fd4cb8f6", "response_text": "The story begins with Granthan on a couch in an unremarkable room. He is on a lifeboat in space, but still within the same solar system as the Earth. There are transmissions that are sent between Earth and where Granthan is located in space and they take about 15 minutes one way to arrive at either designation. Part of the story takes place in a Gool’s mind where Granthan is exploring through it to understand them. When Granthan returns back to Earth he lands on the water near Key West in Florida. While on Earth, Granthan goes from the ocean to a train yard and to a fisherman’s boat. The story ends with a cab driver dropping Granthan off at Delta National Laboratories, not too far from New Orleans. "}]}, {"question_text": "Who are the Gool, and what do they want?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "70b688f92d904fa89a0e99379f8f0ef0", "response_text": "The Gool are an evil Alien race, at war with planet Earth. They are a hive mind. Each being is an extension of a greater conscience. This conscience is hidden deep in their home world, a brain that connects to both the planet and its people. They are described as \"organs” to it. They can telepathically communicate with their leader through soundless thought. They have the ability to infiltrate the minds of their enemies, taking control over them and using them as hosts. This allows the species to sabotage missions, and create spies behind enemy lines. Their numbers have dwindled and what was once a great race, is now a mere colony. But they have plans to expand to newly discovered worlds, where they would replenish their numbers, and be mighty once again. They feed on minerals and metals. They could usually only take over certain minds, but never before like Granthan's. His mind was clear, out of the way of all the others, which made it easy for them to get their claws into him. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "665c4958a9804d4aa6116663d47f70ca", "response_text": "The Gool were previously a great and prominent race in space, now a tribe interested in spreading out and overtaking the galaxy and planting themselves in places where they would have an abundance of food, such as potassium, calcium, and iron. They plan to achieve this using their special mind-control techniques. The Gool are able to probe the minds of individuals, gathering information but also gaining the ability to control their movements and actions; they are also able to erase parts of memory from an individual."}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "78785ca4b4924ed7ba671179ee13637c", "response_text": "According to Kayle, the Gool are in war with the men. At first, the Gool was assumed to have the ability to somehow telehypnotically control a man’s mind without the man knowing it. By going into his subconscious mind, Granthan learns that the Gool can engrave their demands onto the subconscious minds of a man. In the past, the Gool has been controlling men at the superficial level. Digging deeper into his subconscious mind, Granthan learns that the Gool are building fleets that transport the spawn to a world where food was for free. And they want to spread out across the galaxy, thus they’ve came up with a plan. Further exploring, Granthan finds out that they have the ability for matter transmission across space. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "7e8fcb69f02d4588ab9c9f41fd4cb8f6", "response_text": "The Gool’s are a group of people that use hyper-cortical invasion to subvert the will of previously loyal people to enact their own wants and desires. They have built fleets of ships meant to transport their young to new worlds that they have discovered. The new worlds were desirable because they had plenty of food that could be acquired from them. In essence, they want to take over planets – some inhabited, to spread their population and see the continued growth of it. "}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "63150", "uid": "42ccd388477c4aabbd8cde73b58e97d8", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "THE SOUL EATERS\n \n\n By WILLIAM CONOVER\n \n \n Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose ships were the scourge of the Void. But his luck had run its course, and now he was marooned on a rogue planet—fighting to save himself from a menace weapons could not kill.\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Fall 1944. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n \n \" And so, my dear ,\" Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase, \" I'm afraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets—or is it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do, you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway, there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I've accepted. I did love you.... Good-by. \"\n \n Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's last letter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, they never failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender as the palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with a perpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.\n \n The barbaric rhythms of the Congahua , were a background of annoyance in Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercurian dancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace, began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful, in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise left him cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughts in silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, not to speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boom upon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only one solitude—the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests.\n \n Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending. When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss of Marla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could not fill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded. True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been his fault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous Jovian Chamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have been ready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisers that almost surrounded the space pirate.\n \n A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Every dream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful use of hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared as if by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man's soul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm reality under the ineffable illumination of the Chamber.\n \n It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, a fortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than a sheaf of credits—it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., and most of his heart in Marla.\n \n Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of the insidious Verbena , fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frosty glass of Martian Bacca-glas , and as he did so, his brilliant hazel eyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of a young Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred in those eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy? Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Danger brought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties could instantly denote.\n \n His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of this Martian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latter had edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriad semi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, in a final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap and tilted back invitingly.\n \n Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at the handsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came the tinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand, and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on his feet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to one side as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of Dennis Brooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girl cried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis was not there.\n \n \n\n \n Leaping to one side, impervious to the fall of the dancer, he avoided the murderous rush of the Martian youth, then he wheeled swiftly and planted a sledge-hammer blow in that most vulnerable spot of all Martians, the spot just below their narrow, wasp-like waist, and as the Martian half-doubled over, he lefted him with a short jab to the chin that staggered and all but dropped him.\n \n The Martian's violet eyes were black with fury now. He staggered back and sucked in air, his face contorted with excruciating pain. But he was not through. His powerful right shot like a blast straight for Dennis' chest, striking like a piston just below the heart. Dennis took it, flat-footed, without flinching; then he let his right ride over with all the force at his command. It caught the Martian on the jaw and spun him like a top, the pale, imperious face went crimson as he slowly sagged to his knees and rolled to the impeccable mosaics of the floor.\n \n Dennis, breathing heavily, stood over him until the international police arrived, and then he had the surprise of his life. Upon search, the police found a tiny, but fatal silvery tube holstered under his left arm-pit—an atomic-disintegrator, forbidden throughout the interplanetary League. Only major criminals and space pirates still without the law were known to possess them.\n \n \"Looks like your brawl has turned out to be a piece of fool's luck, Brooke!\" The Police Lieutenant favored Dennis with a wry smile. \"If I'm not mistaken this chap's a member of Bren Koerber's pirate crew. Who else could afford to risk his neck at the International, and have in his possession a disintegrator? Pity we have no complete records on that devil's crew! Anyway, we'll radio the I.S.P., perhaps they have details on this dandy!\" He eyed admiringly the priceless Martian embroideries on the unconscious Martian's tunic, the costly border of red, ocelandian fur, and the magnificent black acerine on his finger.\n \n Dennis Brooke shrugged his shoulders, shoulders that would have put to shame the Athenian statues of another age. A faint, bitter smile curved his generous mouth. \"I'm grounded, Gillian, it'd take the capture of Koerber himself to set me right with the I.S.P. again—you don't know Bertram! To him an infraction of rules is a major crime. Damn Venus!\" He reached for his glass of Verbena but the table had turned over during the struggle, and the glass was a shattered mass of gleaming Bacca-glas shards. He laughed shortly as he became conscious of the venomous stare of the Mercurian Dancer, of the excited voices of the guests and the emphatic disapproval of the Venusian proprietor who was shocked at having a brawl in his ultra-expensive, ultra-exclusive Palace.\n \n \"Better come to Headquarters with me, Dennis,\" the lieutenant said gently. \"We'll say you captured him, and if he's Koerber's, the credit's yours. A trip to Terra's what you need, Venus for you is a hoodoo!\"\n \n \n\n \n The stern, white haired I.S.P. Commander behind the immense Aluminil desk, frowned slightly as Dennis Brooke entered. He eyed the six foot four frame of the Captain before him with a mixture of feelings, as if uncertain how to begin. Finally, he sighed as if, having come to a decision, he were forcing himself to speak:\n \n \"Sit down, Dennis. I've sent for you, despite your grounding, for two reasons. The first one you already know—your capture of one of Koerber's henchmen—has given us a line as to his present orbit of piracy, and the means of a check on his activities. But that's not really why I've brought you here.\" He frowned again as if what he had to say were difficult indeed.\n \n \"Marla Starland, your fiancee, accepted an assignment we offered her—a delicate piece of work here on Terra that only a very beautiful, and very clever young lady could perform. And,\" he paused, grimacing,\n\"somewhere between Venus and Terra, the interplanetary spacer bringing her and several other passengers, began to send distress signals. Finally, we couldn't contact the ship any more. It is three days overdue. All passengers, a cargo of radium from Venus worth untold millions, the spacer itself—seem to have vanished.\"\n \n Dennis Brooke's space-tanned features had gone pale. His large hazel eyes, fringed with auburn lashes, too long for a man, were bright slits that smouldered. He stood silent, his hands clenched at his sides, while something cold and sharp seemed to dig at his heart with cruel precision.\n \n \"Marla!\" He breathed at last. The thought of Marla in the power of Koerber sent a wave of anguish that seared through him like an atom-blast.\n \n \"Commander,\" Dennis said, and his rich baritone voice had depths of emotion so great that they startled Commander Bertram himself—and that grizzled veteran of the I.S.P., had at one time or another known every change of torture that could possibly be wrung on a human soul.\n\"Commander, give me one ... one chance at that spawn of unthinkable begetting! Let me try, and I promise you ...\" in his torture, Dennis was unconsciously banging a knotted fist on the chaste, satiny surface of the priceless desk, \"I promise you that I will either bring you Koerber, or forfeit my life!\"\n \n Commander Bertram nodded his head. \"I brought you here for that purpose, son. We have reached a point in our war with Koerber, where the last stakes must be played ... and the last stake is death!\"\n \n He reached over and flipped up the activator on a small telecast set on his desk; instantly the viso-screen lighted up. \"You'll now see a visual record of all we know about the passenger spacer that left Venus with passengers and cargo, as far as we could contact the vessel in space. This, Dennis,\" the Commander emphasized his words, \"is your chance to redeem yourself!\" He fell silent, while the viso-screen began to show a crowded space port on Venus, and a gigantic passenger spacer up-tilted in its cradle.\n \n \n\n \n They watched the parabola it made in its trajectory as it flashed into space and then fell into orbit there beyond the planetary attraction of Venus. On the three-dimensional viso-screen it was uncannily real.\n \n A flight that had taken many hours to accomplish, was shortened on the viso-screen to a matter of minutes. They saw the great, proud interplanetary transport speeding majestically through the starry void, and suddenly, they saw her swerve in a great arc; again she swerved as if avoiding something deadly in space, and point upwards gaining altitude. It was zig-zagging now, desperately maneuvering in an erratic course, and as if by magic, a tiny spot appeared on the transport's side.\n \n Tiny on the viso-screen, the fatal spots must have been huge in actuality. To the Commander of the I.S.P., and to Captain Brooke, it was an old story. Atom-blasts were pitting the spacer's hull with deadly Genton shells. The great transport trembled under the impact of the barrage, and suddenly, the screen went blank.\n \n Commander Bertram turned slowly to face the young I.S.P. captain, whose features were a mask devoid of all expression now, save for the pallor and the burning fire in his eyes.\n \n \"And that's the sixth one in a month. Sometimes the survivors reach Terra in emergency spacers, or are picked up in space by other transports ... and sometimes son ... well, as you know, sometimes they're never seen again.\"\n \n \"When do I leave, Commander!\" Dennis Brooke's voice was like a javelin of ice.\n \n \"Right now, if you wish. We have a new cruiser armored in beryloid with double hull—a new design against Genton shells, but it's the speed of the thing that you'll want to know about. It just about surpasses anything ever invented. Get the figures and data from the coordination room, son; it's serviced and fueled and the crew's aboard.\" He extended his hand. \"You're the best spacer we have—aside from your recklessness—and on your success depends far more than the capture of an outlaw.\" Bertram smiled thinly. \"Happy landing!\"\n \n \n\n II\n \n Their nerves were ragged. Days and days of fruitless search for a phantom ship that seemed to have vanished from space, and an equally elusive pirate whose whereabouts were hidden in the depths of fathomless space.\n \n To all but Captain Brooke, this was a new adventure, their first assignment to duty in a search that went beyond the realm of the inner planets, where men spent sleepless nights in eternal vigilance against stray asteroids and outlaw crews of ruthless vandal ships. Even their cruiser was a new experience, the long, tapering fighter lacked the luxurious offices and appointments of the regular I.S.P. Patrol spacers. It placed a maximum on speed, and all available space was hoarded for fuel. The lightning fast tiger of the space-lanes, was a thing of beauty, but of grim, sleek beauty instinct with power, not the comfortable luxury that they knew.\n \n Day after day they went through their drills, donning space suits, manning battle stations; aiming deadly atom-cannon at empty space, and eternally scanning the vast empty reaches by means of the telecast.\n \n And suddenly, out of the void, as they had all but given up the search as a wild goose chase, a speck was limned in the lighted surface of the viso-screen in the control room. Instantly the I.S.P. cruiser came to life. In a burst of magnificent speed, the cruiser literally devoured the space leagues, until the spacer became a flashing streak. On the viso-screen, the speck grew larger, took on contours, growing and becoming slowly the drifting shell of what had been a transport.\n \n Presently they were within reaching distance, and Captain Brooke commanded through the teleradio from the control room:\n \n \"Prepare to board!\"\n \n Every member of the crew wanted to be among the boarding party, for all but George Randall, the junior member of the crew had served his apprenticeship among the inner planets, Mars, Venus and Terra. He felt nauseated at the very thought of going out there in that vast abyss of space. His young, beardless face, with the candid blue eyes went pale when the order was given. But presently, Captain Brooke named those who were to go beside himself:\n \n \"You, Tom and Scotty, take one emergency plane, and Dallas!\"\n \n \"Yes, Captain!\" Dallas Bernan, the immense third lieutenant boomed in his basso-profundo voice.\n \n \"You and I'll take a second emergency!\" There was a pause in the voice of the Captain from the control room, then: \"Test space suits. Test oxygen helmets! Atom-blasts only, ready in five minutes!\"\n \n George Randall breathed a sigh of relief. He watched them bridge the space to the drifting wreck, then saw them enter what had once been a proud interplanetary liner, now soon to be but drifting dust, and he turned away with a look of shame.\n \n Inside the liner, Captain Dennis Brooke had finished making a detailed survey.\n \n \"No doubt about it,\" he spoke through the radio in his helmet. \"Cargo missing. No survivors. No indication that the repulsion fields were out of order. And finally, those Genton shells could only have been fired by Koerber!\" He tried to maintain a calm exterior, but inwardly he seethed in a cold fury more deadly than any he had ever experienced. Somehow he had expected to find at least one compartment unharmed, where life might have endured, but now, all hope was gone. Only a great resolve to deal with Koerber once and for all remained to him.\n \n Dennis tried not to think of Marla, too great an ache was involved in thinking of her and all he had lost. When he finally spoke, his voice was harsh, laconic:\n \n \"Prepare to return!\"\n \n Scotty Byrnes, the cruiser's nurse, who could take his motors through a major battle, or hell and high water and back again, for that matter, shifted the Venusian weed that made a perpetual bulge on his cheek and gazed curiously at Captain Brooke. They all knew the story in various versions, and with special additions. But they were spacemen, implicit in their loyalty, and with Dennis Brooke they could and did feel safe.\n \n Tom Jeffery, the tall, angular and red-faced Navigator, whose slow, easygoing movements belied the feral persistence of a tiger, and the swiftness of a striking cobra in a fight, led the small procession of men toward the emergency planes. Behind him came Dallas Bernan, third lieutenant, looming like a young asteroid in his space suit, followed by Scotty, and finally Captain Brooke himself. All left in silence, as if the tragedy that had occurred aboard the wrecked liner, had touched them intimately.\n \n \n\n \n Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser, a surprise awaited them. It was young George Randall, whose excited face met them as soon as they had entered the airlocks and removed the space suits.\n \n \"Captain Brooke ... Captain, recordings are showing on the new 'Jet Analyzers' must be the trail of some spacer. Can't be far!\" He was fairly dancing in his excitement, as if the marvelous work of the new invention that detected the disturbance of atomic jets at great distance were his own achievement.\n \n Dennis Brooke smiled. His own heart was hammering, and inwardly he prayed that it were Koerber. It had to be! No interplanetary passenger spacer could possibly be out here at the intersection of angles Kp\n39 degrees, 12 minutes, Fp 67 degrees of Ceres elliptic plane. None but a pirate crew with swift battle cruisers could dare! This was the dangerous asteroid belt, where even planetoids drifted in eccentric uncharted orbits.\n \n Dennis, Tom Jeffery and Scotty Byrnes raced to the control room, followed by the ponderous Dallas to whom hurry in any form was anathema. There could be no doubt now! The \"Jet Analyzer\" recorded powerful disturbance, atomic—could be nothing else.\n \n Instantly Captain Brooke was at the inter-communication speaker:\n \n \"Crew, battle stations! Engine room, full speed!\"\n \n Scotty Byrnes was already dashing to the engine room, where his beloved motors purred with an ascending hum. Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser each member of the crew raced to his assigned task without delay. Action impended, and after days and nights of inertia, it was a blessed relief. Smiles appeared on haggard faces, and the banter of men suddenly galvanized by a powerful incentive was bandied back and forth. All but George Randall. Now that action was imminent. Something gripped his throat until he could hardly stand the tight collar of his I.S.P. uniform. A growing nausea gripped his bowels, and although he strove to keep calm, his hands trembled beyond control.\n \n In the compact, super-armored control room, Captain Brooke watched the telecast's viso-screen, with hungry eyes that were golden with anticipation. It seemed to him as if an eternity passed before at last, a black speck danced on the illuminated screen, until it finally reached the center of the viso-screen and remained there. It grew by leaps and bounds as the terrific speed of the cruiser minimized the distance long before the quarry was aware of pursuit.\n \n But at last, when the enemy cruiser showed on the viso-screen, unmistakably for what it was—a pirate craft, it showed by its sudden maneuver that it had detected the I.S.P. cruiser. For it had described a parabola in space and headed for the dangerous asteroid belt. As if navigated by a masterly hand that knew each and every orbit of the asteroids, it plunged directly into the asteroid drift, hoping to lose the I.S.P. cruiser with such a maneuver. Ordinarily, it would have succeeded, no I.S.P. patrol ship would have dared to venture into such a trap without specific orders. But to Dennis Brooke, directing the chase from the control room, even certain death was welcome, if only he could take Koerber with him.\n \n Weaving through the deadly belt for several hours, Dennis saw his quarry slow down. Instantly he seized the chance and ordered a salvo from starboard. Koerber's powerful spacer reeled, dived and came up spewing Genton-shells. The battle was on at last.\n \n From the banked atom-cannon of the I.S.P. Cruiser, a deadly curtain of atomic fire blazed at the pirate craft. A ragged rent back toward midship showed on Koerber's Cruiser which trembled as if it had been mortally wounded. Then Dennis maneuvered his cruiser into a power dive as a rain of Genton-shells swept the space lane above him, but as he came up, a lone shell struck. At such close range, super-armor was ripped, second armor penetrated and the magnificent vessel shook under the detonating impact.\n \n It was then that Dennis Brooke saw the immense dark shadow looming immediately behind Koerber's ship. He saw the pirate cruiser zoom desperately in an effort to break the gravity trap of the looming mass, but too late. It struggled like a fly caught in a spider-web to no avail. It was then that Koerber played his last card. Sensing he was doomed, he tried to draw the I.S.P. Cruiser down with him. A powerful magnetic beam lashed out to spear the I.S.P. Cruiser.\n \n \n\n \n With a wrenching turn that almost threw them out of control, Dennis maneuvered to avoid the beam. Again Koerber's beam lashed out, as he sank lower into the looming mass, and again Dennis anticipating the maneuver avoided it.\n \n \"George Randall!\" He shouted desperately into the speaker. \"Cut all jets in the rocket room! Hurry, man!\" He banked again and then zoomed out of the increasing gravity trap.\n \n \"Randall! I've got to use the magnetic repulsion plates.... Cut all the jets!\" But there was no response. Randall's screen remained blank. Then Koerber's lashing magnetic beam touched and the I.S.P. ship was caught, forced to follow the pirate ship's plunge like the weight at the end of a whiplash. Koerber's gunners sent one parting shot, an atom-blast that shook the trapped cruiser like a leaf.\n \n Beneath them, growing larger by the second, a small world rushed up to meet them. The readings in the Planetograph seemed to have gone crazy. It showed diameter 1200 miles; composition mineral and radio-active. Gravity seven-eighths of Terra. It couldn't be! Unless perhaps this unknown planetoid was the legendary core of the world that at one time was supposed to have existed between Jupiter and Mars. Only that could possibly explain the incredible gravity.\n \n And then began another type of battle. Hearing the Captain's orders to Randall, and noting that no result had been obtained, Scotty Byrnes himself cut the jets. The Magnetic Repulsion Plates went into action, too late to save them from being drawn, but at least they could prevent a crash. Far in the distance they could see Koerber's ship preceding them in a free fall, then the Planetoid was rushing up to engulf them.\n \n \n\n III\n \n The atmosphere was somewhat tenuous, but it was breathable, provided a man didn't exert himself. To the silent crew of the I.S.P. Cruiser, the strange world to which Koerber's magnetic Beam had drawn them, was anything but reassuring. Towering crags jutted raggedly against the sky, and the iridescent soil of the narrow valley that walled in the cruiser, had a poisonous, deadly look. As far as their eyes could reach, the desolate, denuded vista stretched to the horizon.\n \n \"Pretty much of a mess!\" Dennis Brooke's face was impassive as he turned to Scotty Byrnes. \"What's your opinion? Think we can patch her up, or are we stuck here indefinitely?\"\n \n Scotty eyed the damage. The atom-blast had penetrated the hull into the forward fuel chambers and the armor had blossomed out like flower petals. The crash-landing had not helped either.\n \n \"Well, there's a few beryloid plates in the storage locker, Captain, but,\" he scratched his head ruminatively and shifted his precious cud.\n \n \"But what? Speak up man!\" It was Tom Jeffery, his nerves on edge, his ordinarily gentle voice like a lash.\n \n \"But, you may as well know it,\" Scotty replied quietly. \"That parting shot of Koerber's severed our main rocket feed. I had to use the emergency tank to make it down here!\"\n \n For a long moment the four men looked at each other in silence. Dennis Brooke's face was still impassive but for the flaming hazel eyes. Tom tugged at the torn sleeve of his I.S.P. uniform, while Scotty gazed mournfully at the damaged ship. Dallas Bernan looked at the long, ragged line of cliffs.\n \n \"I think we got Koerber, though,\" he said at last. \"While Tom was doing a job of navigation, I had one last glimpse of him coming down fast and out of control somewhere behind those crags over there!\"\n \n \"To hell with Koerber!\" Tom Jeffery exploded. \"You mean we're stuck in this hellish rock-pile?\"\n \n \"Easy, Tom!\" Captain Brooke's tones were like ice. On his pale, impassive face, his eyes were like flaming topaz. \"Where's Randall?\"\n \n \"Probably hiding his head under a bunk!\" Dallas laughed with scorn. His contemptuous remark voiced the feelings of the entire crew. A man who failed to be at his battle-station in time of emergency, had no place in the I.S.P.\n \n \"Considering the gravity of this planetoid,\" Dennis Brooke said thoughtfully, \"it's going to take some blast to get us off!\"\n \n \"Maybe we can locate a deposit of anerioum or uranium or something for our atom-busters to chew on!\" Scotty said hopefully. He was an eternal optimist.\n \n \"Better break out those repair plates,\" Dennis said to Scotty. \"Tom, you get the welders ready. I've got a few entries to make in the log book, and then we'll decide on a party to explore the terrain and try to find out what happened to Koerber's ship. I must know,\" he said in a low voice, but with such passion that the others were startled.\n \n A figure appeared in the slanting doorway of the ship in time to hear the last words. It was George Randall, adjusting a bandaged forehead bumped during the crash landing.\n \n \"Captain ... I ... I wanted ...\" he paused unable to continue.\n \n \"You wanted what?\" Captain Brooke's voice was terse. \"Perhaps you wanted to explain why you weren't at your battle station?\"\n \n \"Sir, I wanted to know if ... if I might help Scotty with the welding job....\" That wasn't at all what he'd intended to say. But somehow the words had stuck in his throat and his face flushed deep scarlet. His candid blue eyes were suspiciously brilliant, and the white bandage with its crimson stains made an appealing, boyish figure. It softened the anger in Brooke's heart. Thinking it over calmly, Dennis realized this was the youngster's first trip into the outer orbits, and better men than he had cracked in those vast reaches of space. But there had been an instant when he'd found Randall cowering in the rocket-room, in the grip of paralyzing hysteria, when he could cheerfully have wrung his neck!\n \n \"Certainly, Randall,\" he replied in a much more kindly tone. \"We'll need all hands now.\"\n \n \"Thank you, sir!\" Randall seemed to hesitate for a moment, opened his mouth to speak further, but feeling the other's calculating gaze upon him, he whirled and re-entered the ship.\n \n \"But for him we wouldn't be here!\" Dallas exclaimed. \"Aagh!\" He shook his head in disgust until the several folds of flesh under his chin shook like gelatin. \"Cowards are hell!\" He spat.\n \n \"Easy, Dallas, Randall's a kid, give 'im a chance.\" Dennis observed.\n \n \"You Captain ... you're defending 'im? Why you had a greater stake in this than we, and he's spoiled it for you!\"\n \n \"Yep,\" Dennis nodded. \"But I'm still keeping my senses clear. No feuds on my ship. Get it!\" The last two words cut like a scimitar.\n \n Dallas nodded and lowered his eyes. Scotty shifted his cud and spat a thin stream of juice over the iridescent ground. One by one they re-entered the cruiser.", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "87a2a5c010e14561a3d5059e118027f3", "response_text": "Dennis Brooke was drinking and watching a dancer along with rereading the last letter of Marla, his fiancee, who accepted a new assignment and left him. At the same time he was regretting being grounded and on bad terms with I.S.P. for a mistake. Suddenly, he felt danger and when the Mercurial dancer approached him, a Martian attempted an attack. After a short fight, Dennis overcame the Martian who turned out to possess a prohibited weapon and supposedly was a space pirate. After capturing the pirate, Dennis was called by I.S.P. commander and told that Marla and her whole spaceship traveling to Terra disappeared, supposedly captured by Koerber, the head of pirates. Dennis begged to be sent for the pirate leader and the commander gave him this chance. They watched a recording of Marla's spaceship zig-zagging and being attacked, which ended with a blank screen. Dennis immediately set out to space on a cruiser. After a long search without success, something appeared on the visa-screen and the crew prepared to board. Nevertheless, no survivors were found and the Captain, Dennis, was out of hope. Everyone left in silence the spot of the tragedy of the attacked spacer. Back on the ship, one of the crew, George Randall, gladly informed that an object was detected. The crew rushed for the object which indeed turned out to be a pirate craft trying to escape the persecutor. Koerber's ship was soon doomed and he caught Dennis' ship with a beam to follow. The ship crashed and the crew found itself in a place without any chance to escape from. The captain ordered to explore the place and see what happened to Koerber for sure, while others will be welding, and the crew reentered the ship."}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "0a266eabe910481da91719c611b2be42", "response_text": "Dennis Brooke is recounting the letter Marla has left him and going through the feelings of reading that letter. He goes to the Jovian Chamber, an expensive but pleasure-ridden place. Unfortunately, the Jovian Chamber cost him his relationship with Marla and the rebuff of the I.S.P. He was distracted and not prepared for duty to complete the last link in a net of I.S.P cruisers that were surrounding a space pirate because he was at the Jovian Chamber. While back there, he becomes quite alert because there is a Martian looking at him with pure hatred in his eyes. A dancer flings herself onto his lap and the Martian comes rushing to attack Dennis. Dennis is able to avoid the attack and the police come and take the Martian away. The Martian turns out to be a wanted pirate crew member, and this capture allows Dennis to be positioned in a more favorable view by the commander of the I.S.P. \n\nDennis goes to meet the commander and the commander tells him some troubling news. He states that Marla’s ship is unable to be contacted and is multiple days overdue for contact. The commander tells Dennis that joining the mission would be his opportunity to redeem his reputation and Dennis is readily prepared to accept and wants to leave immediately. They eventually do leave and spend the first couple of days searching in space with no luck. However, they do eventually spot something in the distance and prepare all stations for incoming possibilities. They board a ship finding no survivors and the ship to be without cargo.  When they return to their ship, George excitedly greets them telling them that the radar is picking up a possible trail of a space. Dennis is hopeful that it is Koerber. The crew members hurriedly go to their assigned tasks and their faces are glowing with optimism. The pirate craft they encounter is producing maneuvers to try to lose the cruiser. Dennis is able to avoid attacks from Koerber’s beam for a while. Unfortunately, the I.S.P. ship does get caught in a magnetic beam by Koerber’s ship and is forced to follow the pirate ship’s plunge. \n\nAs they plunge, Dennis is confused by what is beneath them as there is incredible gravity. They eventually fall into a planetoid. When they land, they were questioning whether they are permanently stuck on the unknown planet or if they are able to repair the spacer. \n\nDallas becomes angry because he accuses Randall of them being stranded because Randall did not man his station and act out his orders. Dennis defends Randall asserting that it is no good to feud in a situation as such and that he will not allow it to occur. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "0f6eb385578749669bcbb8dd9b03fbc0", "response_text": "Dennis Brooke is a captain of the I.S.P who is currently grounded due to his recklessness in capturing Koerber, a deadly space pirate. He spends his days in the Jovian Chamber, a place on Venus where the desires of its men are met constantly; despite this, his mind is only on his fiancee, Marla, whose letter he rereads while she is on a trip to Terra. One night at the chamber, Dennis is suddenly attacked by a strange Martian man, who he fights off and defeats. The police later discover that the Martian man was in possession of a forbidden weapon, inferring that he is part of Koerber's crew. Dennis then meets the I.S.P Commander in his office, where he is informed that a ship, the ship that was supposed to take Marla to Terra, has vanished, and all signs point to Koerber. The Commander gives Dennis a final chance to redeem himself and defeat Koerber for good, equipping him with a crew and an upgraded cruiser that can travel at record speed. Aboard the cruiser, Dennis eventually finds the vanished ship, but unfortunately no hopeful signs of survival from the destruction. Heartbroken by the loss of Marla, Dennis advises his crew to return back, when they notice Koerber's ship approaching. Dennis challenges the ship to a battle, sending cannons and jets to crash into the ship. However, Koerber's ship is quickly approaching the surface of a planet, and Koerber sends a magnetic beam to bring Dennis' cruiser down with him. Dennis panics and orders George Randall, the youngest on the crew, to cut the jets and use magentic repulsion, but Randall does not respond. Another crew member eventually cuts the jets, but not early enough, and the cruiser is stranded on the unknown planet. The crew brainstorms how they can repair the ship and get off the planet, blaming Randall; Dennis scolds the crew for being harsh on Randall as they get to work."}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "857440f4a1d74ff0b96fa9cc5d4554a8", "response_text": "Dennis Brooke cannot stop reading the final letter he receives from his fiancee Marla Starland. He is at the Jovian Chamber in the Inter-planetary Palace on Venus, where it is highly regarded as an elusive place that costs a fortune to enter. He drinks and makes eye contact with a young martian, who stares at him back with hatred. A Mercurian dancer flings herself onto his lap, and the Martian leaps up to attack him while the other guests are distracted. Dennis manages to knock the Martian, and the international police find out that the Martian is a member of Bren Koerber’s pirate crew. The Police Lieutenant Gillian mentions that they should radio the I.S.P., but Dennis reveals that he is grounded from the organization. The lieutenant still insists that he come to Terra with him. Later, the I.S.P. commander frowns when he sees Dennis walk into the office. He explains that they brought him here for two reasons. The first reason is tracking down Koerber’s orbit of piracy by capturing one of his henchmen. The second reason is about the disappearance of Marla and the loss of contact with the interplanetary spacer that she was on. In his despair, Dennis begs the commander for one more opportunity to bring back Koerber or die trying. He then sees a visual record of the passenger spacer. They later embark on the trip, and the spacer they are in gets attacked by atom shells. The commander tells Dennis that he can use the new cruiser equipped to deal with these dangers. His expedition is the first assignment for many of the crew members. As they are about to give up, the cruiser finds what is left of a passenger cruiser. Everybody wants to be a part of the boarding party except for George Randall because he still feels nauseous about the idea. Tom, Scotty, and Dallas are chosen to go with Dennis. Dennis finishes creating the survey about the liners left, and they leave. Randall tells them that another spacer is somewhere close behind them, and Dennis hopes it is Koerber. He observes Koerber’s cruiser through the viso-screen, but it suddenly maneuvers once it realizes that the I.S.P. cruiser is nearby too. Although it tries to lose Dennis and his crew, Koerber’s cruiser is unsuccessful, and the two cruisers begin fighting. He sees the shadow behind Koerber’s ship and avoids getting hit by a beam that the enemy cruiser fires. Randall is given orders to cut the engines, but he does not follow them. The cruiser is forced to land in the middle of nowhere of unfamiliar territory. They discuss ways to get out of the area, and Dennis asks to see Randall. They talk briefly, and Dennis treats Randall much more kindly after seeing his first trip into the outer orbits. Even though the others are angry at Randall, he tells them there will be no feuds on the ship, and they re-enter the cruiser. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the attitude of Dennis towards Marla?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "87a2a5c010e14561a3d5059e118027f3", "response_text": "Marla used to be a fiancee of Dennis, but she broke up with him and left for an assignment. Her poignant last letter pained Dennis, but he kept rereading it, delving into drinks, dancers and images of Marla. This condition even caused him to fail his commander and be grounded. The break up left a huge void in Dennis and he had no desire to see other women. The news of her disappearance made Dennis pale and silent, he felt extreme pain, which was soon accompanied by anger towards Koerber. Dennis desired to rush that very second to search for Marla and bring Koerber, risking his own life. All the time without success Dennis was slowly losing hope, and when he didn't find any survivors, he was silent and devastated with the loss of hope to find Marla."}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "0a266eabe910481da91719c611b2be42", "response_text": "Dennis recounts how the loss of Marla has left a void in his heart that hurts him. His repeated reading of a letter that she has left him shows that Dennis longs for Marla and wishes to be reunited with her because of his love for her. Dennis clearly has a great love for Marla because he is willing to risk his life to go and find her, hopefully alive. He is anguished by the idea that Marla could be in danger or did die. \n\n"}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "0f6eb385578749669bcbb8dd9b03fbc0", "response_text": "Marla is Dennis' fiancee. The two are in love, despite being apart due to business; Marla accepted a mission on the planet Terra, leaving Dennis on Venus. Even though the two are far away from each other, Dennis still cares deeply about Marla and thinks of her often. At the beginning of the story, he is rereading the last letter that Marla wrote him before leaving, and even when at the Jovian Chamber, a palace meant to meet anyone's desires, Dennis can only think of Marla and her beauty. Dennis' feelings towards Marla are also apparent when he gets the news of Marla's ship being seized by Koerber."}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "857440f4a1d74ff0b96fa9cc5d4554a8", "response_text": "Dennis loves and adores Marla dearly, to the point where he is willing to risk his life to save her. He is heartbroken over the letter that she initially sent him and cannot bring himself to enjoy anything in the Jovian Chamber. When the commander tells him that his wife has potentially fallen into the hands of Koerber, he does not hesitate to hunt the criminal down for her. He is also very determined because of her, effortlessly taking on his duties as captain and giving out fast orders if it means that they will be reunited sooner. Even though Marla’s letter has already expressed her goodbyes, he does not give up and will do anything to see her again. "}]}, {"question_text": "What is the importance of the Martian man attacking Dennis?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "87a2a5c010e14561a3d5059e118027f3", "response_text": "Dennis was forced to fight back and exit his state of stagnation, caused by being grounded at work and left by fiancee. When he overcame the enemy, the least turned out to be a space pirate, bearing a prohibited weapon. That way Dennis stopped and imprisoned a criminal, who turned out to possess useful information about Koerber's present activities. This helpful action, together with Dennis' personal interest in success of the mission and his skills of a spacer, made the commander give Dennis a chance to redeem himself. For that reason Dennis was sent to search for Koerber and he set out for the adventure."}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "0a266eabe910481da91719c611b2be42", "response_text": "The Martian fails to successfully attack Dennis as he is able to maneuver out of the way to prevent a painful or deadly attack. The Martian is captured by the police and they tell Dennis that he had a forbidden weapon on him, an atomic disintegrator. That type of weapon is only found on space pirates or criminals. It turns out that the Martian was a member of a pirate crew, specifically Koerber’s pirate crew. Dennis aiding the capture of this Martian is important because it puts him in a more favorable position with the commander of the I.S.P. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "0f6eb385578749669bcbb8dd9b03fbc0", "response_text": "Though the Martian man who attacks Dennis seems random, it is later revealed by the Police Lieutenant that the Martian was in possession of an atomic-disintegrator, which is a forbidden weapon. This, in addition to the attack, leads them to suspect that the Martian man is part of Koerber's pirate team. Dennis had previously been grounded by the I.S.P, but his brawl with the Martian man gives him the opportunity to be back on the I.S.P's good side. The Police Lieutenant tells Dennis that if the Martian turned out to be one of Koerber's men, he would allow Dennis to take the credit for his capture, which ends up working."}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "857440f4a1d74ff0b96fa9cc5d4554a8", "response_text": "The Martian man attacking Dennis reveals more critical information about Koerber, the criminal’s whereabouts, and how Dennis later becomes involved. Even though Denis is temporarily not allowed to interact with the I.S.P., the Martian man attacking him creates an opportunity for him to go back to the organization. Furthermore, he is also aware of Marla’s situation from going to I.S.P., and he goes immediately to hunt down Koerber. For the commander, this Martian’s attack also means that the location of their lost passengers and cargo must be found soon. The attack sets up the plot for the majority of the story, and it also helps Dennis become motivated enough to go and rescue Marla. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What does Dennis do for living and how is he treated at work?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "87a2a5c010e14561a3d5059e118027f3", "response_text": "Dennis works as an I.S.P. captain. His commander Bertram calls him son and is compassionate for the los of Marla. The commander values him and estimates as the best spacer. The Police Lieutenant is also friendly towards Dennis and willing to help him redeem, by saying that Dennis captured the pirate. Dennis' crew on the mission after Koerber heard the stories about the Captain and all were curious but silent, as if they were touched by his tragedy. The crew was loyal and trusted the captain. Dennis was sympathetic and full of humanity towards the young George Randall who failed the crew as it was his first mission. This action was a surprise for other members but none protested.\n\n\n"}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "0a266eabe910481da91719c611b2be42", "response_text": "Dennis is a young captain for the I.S.P. He is able to pilot an I.S.P. patrol ship with great control. While on the rescue mission trip, Dennis is treated with respect and as the authority figure of the ship. He commands Dallas, and the others, to not start conflicts or feuds on his ship because it is necessary to keep the senses clear in such a dire situation. They respond with respect to his leadership and authority. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "0f6eb385578749669bcbb8dd9b03fbc0", "response_text": "Dennis is a captain for the I.S.P. Before being grounded, he would aid in missions of varying objectives, patrolling space and most recently on the hunt for space pirate Koerber. When he is being welcomed back to the I.S.P for his next mission, Commander Bertram treats him in a playfully reprimanding manner, but for everyone else on the crew, Dennis is a leader and a guide that they look up to. Running the ship, Dennis efficiently orders the crew to do their respective tasks, and the crew admires his leadership and tries their best to be obedient. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "857440f4a1d74ff0b96fa9cc5d4554a8", "response_text": "Dennis works for the I.S.P. as a spacer and captain. He is initially grounded by the organization, where he mentions that Commander Bertram has said that an infraction of rules is considered a major offense. However, when Bertram invites him back to pilot one of the liners, any former prejudices are gone. All of his crew trust him completely, and they are all eager to do whatever he assigns them. Even though Bertram considers him reckless, he considers him one of the best spacers that they have present. The other crew members also value his opinion highly, as they all listened when he told them not to feud amongst each other. "}]}, {"question_text": "Where does the story take place?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "105", "uid": "87a2a5c010e14561a3d5059e118027f3", "response_text": "The story starts on Venus, in a pleasure palace where Dennis is trying to distract himself from his ex-fiancee and being grounded on his job. After an attack followed by Dennis' victory, he proceeds Headquarters with the police and soon enters the I.S.P. commander's office. From there he immediately sets off to space on a ship, searching for days through the space for any signs of pirates or the disappeared spaceship. The first stop is the remnants of transport lacking any use. The second is a detected pirate spaceship, which the crew starts to follow. The setting of the chase remains in space, and after being engulfed by a Planetoid, the crew find itself in a strange world. The setting was rocky and looked deadly. Only desolate vista was seen around. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "0a266eabe910481da91719c611b2be42", "response_text": "Dennis is at the Jovian Chamber which is a place that caters to a man’s desire. Then Dennis is taken to the headquarters for the I.S.P, to talk to the commander. He goes to the office of the commander and learns some troubling news about Marla. The crew, along with Dennis and the commander, spend days on a spaceship searching space for Marla’s ship and a pirate ship. When they spot a trail of a spacer, Dennis notes that they are at the intersection of angles Kp at 39 degrees, for 12 minutes, Fp at 67 degrees of Ceres elliptic plane. They fall into an unknown planetoid where the atmosphere is breathable but does not allow for much exertion. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "0f6eb385578749669bcbb8dd9b03fbc0", "response_text": "The beginning of the story takes place in the Jovian Chamber within the Inter-planetary Palace on Venus, where Dennis is staying after being grounded by the I.S.P. The chamber is a luxurious, royal place with drinks, dancers, and anything a man could desire. After the brawl with a Martian, Dennis goes to the I.S.P Commander's office, where he is given a new mission and cruiser, which is updated with intense speed. Once the mission begins, Dennis spends days on the cruiser, which despite being efficient, lacks comfortable space and offices like the other cruisers do. Eventually, the cruiser crashes onto an unknown planet, with strong gravity, intimidating soils and valleys, and iridescent ground. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "857440f4a1d74ff0b96fa9cc5d4554a8", "response_text": "The story initially takes place on Venus. The Jovian Chamber is packed, and there is the loud sound of the barbaric rhythms of \"Congahua\" in the background.  There is a beautiful Mercurian dancer who weaves amongst the crowd too. There are also tables to sit and have drinks at. After Venus, the story takes place briefly in Commander Bertram’s office at the I.S.P. There is a large aluminil desk and a small telecast set on it. Then, the story takes place in space as they chase down Koerber's cruiser. The cruiser itself has an engine room, a control room, and bunks for rest. One of the other cruisers they encounter has everything in place, except for a noticeably missing amount of cargo. Finally, when they crash, the place the crew crashes in is very difficult to breathe. There are towering jugs that jut raggedly against the sky and iridescent soil for the narrow valley. The crew is the only people there, and there is just nothing that stretches into the horizon."}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "50818", "uid": "2c180e6c50c149d59b91363514cab52a", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS\n \n \n By JIM HARMON\n \n Illustrated by WEST\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Magazine October 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n\n\n Every lonely man tries to make friends. Manet just didn't know when to stop!\n \n \n \n William Manet was alone.\n \n In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It would give him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlate loneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take him to start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to begin teaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminable lectures to a bored and captive audience of one.\n \n He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whether it was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and as dirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal and think more like a god than any man for generations.\n \n But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearing bore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.\n \n Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was already talking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he had cut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up and winked at it whenever he passed that way.\n \n Lately she was winking back at him.\n \n Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh from his arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.\n \n No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manet could only be this lonely on Mars.\n \n Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.\n \n All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middle of the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat, flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in the black sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moons and one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The whole gimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one was needed here—no human being, at least.\n \n The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn't take much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefully specified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycomb Mars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.\n \n They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated people for the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going to isolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manet and his fellows.\n \n The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fare to Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuter service for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodations for couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren't providing fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits between the various Overseers. They weren't very providential.\n \n But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offered wonderful opportunities.\n \n It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship making a tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning as bright as envy.\n \n \n\n \n Manet suspected hallucination, but in an existence with all the pallid dispassion of a requited love he was happy to welcome dementia. Sometimes he even manufactured it. Sometimes he would run through the arteries of the factory and play that it had suddenly gone mad hating human beings, and was about to close down its bulkheads on him as sure as the Engineers' Thumb and bale up the pressure-dehydrated digest, making so much stall flooring of him. He ran until he dropped with a kind of climaxing release of terror.\n \n So Manet put on the pressure suit he had been given because he would never need it, and marched out to meet the visiting spaceship.\n \n He wasn't quite clear how he came from walking effortlessly across the Martian plain that had all the distance-perpetuating qualities of a kid's crank movie machine to the comfortable interior of a strange cabin. Not a ship's cabin but a Northwoods cabin.\n \n The black and orange Hallowe'en log charring in the slate stone fireplace seemed real. So did the lean man with the smiling mustache painted with the random designs of the fire, standing before the horizontal pattern of chinked wall.\n \n \"Need a fresher?\" the host inquired.\n \n Manet's eyes wondered down to heavy water tumbler full of rich, amber whiskey full of sparks from the hearth. He stirred himself in the comfortingly warm leather chair. \"No, no, I'm fine .\" He let the word hang there for examination. \"Pardon me, but could you tell me just what place this is?\"\n \n The host shrugged. It was the only word for it. \"Whatever place you choose it to be, so long as you're with Trader Tom. 'Service,' that's my motto. It is a way of life with me.\"\n \n \"Trader Tom? Service?\"\n \n \"Yes! That's it exactly. It's me exactly. Trader Tom Service—Serving the Wants of the Spaceman Between the Stars. Of course, 'stars' is poetic. Any point of light in the sky in a star. We service the planets.\"\n \n Manet took the tumbler in both hands and drank. It was good whiskey, immensely powerful. \"The government wouldn't pay for somebody serving the wants of spacemen,\" he exploded.\n \n \"Ah,\" Trader Tom said, cautionary. He moved nearer the fire and warmed his hands and buttocks. \"Ah, but I am not a government service. I represent free enterprise.\"\n \n \n\n \n \"Nonsense,\" Manet said. \"No group of private individuals can build a spaceship. It takes a combine of nations.\"\n \n \"But remember only that businessmen are reactionary. It's well-known. Ask anyone on the street. Businessmen are reactionary even beyond the capitalistic system. Money is a fiction that exists mostly on paper. They play along on paper to get paper things, but to get real things they can forego the papers. Comprehend, mon ami ? My businessmen have gone back to the barter system. Between them, they have the raw materials, the trained men, the man-hours to make a spaceship. So they make it. Damned reactionaries, all of my principals.\"\n \n \"I don't believe you,\" Manet stated flatly. His conversation had grown blunt with disuse. \"What possible profit could your principals turn from running a trading ship among scattered exploration posts on the planets? What could you give us that a benevolent government doesn't already supply us with? And if there was anything, how could we pay for it? My year's salary wouldn't cover the transportation costs of this glass of whiskey.\"\n \n \"Do you find it good whiskey?\"\n \n \"Very good.\"\n \n \"Excellent?\"\n \n \"Excellent, if you prefer.\"\n \n \"I only meant—but never mind. We give you what you want. As for paying for it—why, forget about the payment. You may apply for a Trader Tom Credit Card.\"\n \n \"And I could buy anything that I wanted with it?\" Manet demanded.\n\"That's absurd. I'd never be able to pay for it.\"\n \n \"That's it precisely!\" Trader Tom said with enthusiasm. \"You never pay for it. Charges are merely deducted from your estate .\"\n \n \"But I may leave no estate!\"\n \n Trader Tom demonstrated his peculiar shrug. \"All businesses operate on a certain margin of risk. That is our worry.\"\n \n \n\n \n Manet finished the mellow whiskey and looked into the glass. It seemed to have been polished clean. \"What do you have to offer?\"\n \n \"Whatever you want?\"\n \n Irritably, \"How do I know what I want until I know what you have?\"\n \n \"You know.\"\n \n \"I know? All right, I know. You don't have it for sale.\"\n \n \"Old chap, understand if you please that I do not only sell . I am a trader—Trader Tom. I trade with many parties. There are, for example ... extraterrestrials.\"\n \n \"Folk legend!\"\n \n \"On the contrary, mon cher , the only reality it lacks is political reality. The Assembly could no longer justify their disposition of the cosmos if it were known they were dealing confiscation without representation. Come, tell me what you want.\"\n \n Manet gave in to it. \"I want to be not alone,\" he said.\n \n \"Of course,\" Trader Tom replied, \"I suspected. It is not so unusual, you know. Sign here. And here. Two copies. This is yours. Thank you so much.\"\n \n Manet handed back the pen and stared at the laminated card in his hand.\n \n \n\n \n When he looked up from the card, Manet saw the box. Trader Tom was pushing it across the floor towards him.\n \n The box had the general dimensions of a coffin, but it wasn't wood—only brightly illustrated cardboard. There was a large four-color picture on the lid showing men, women and children moving through a busy city street. The red and blue letters said:\n \n \n LIFO\n   The Socialization Kit\n \n \n \"It is commercialized,\" Trader Tom admitted with no little chagrin.\n\"It is presented to appeal to a twelve-year-old child, an erotic, aggressive twelve-year-old, the typical sensie goer—but that is reality. It offends men of good taste like ourselves, yet sometimes it approaches being art. We must accept it.\"\n \n \"What's the cost?\" Manet asked. \"Before I accept it, I have to know the charges.\"\n \n \"You never know the cost. Only your executor knows that. It's the Trader Tom plan.\"\n \n \"Well, is it guaranteed?\"\n \n \"There are no guarantees,\" Trader Tom admitted. \"But I've never had any complaints yet.\"\n \n \"Suppose I'm the first?\" Manet suggested reasonably.\n \n \"You won't be,\" Trader Tom said. \"I won't pass this way again.\"\n \n \n\n \n Manet didn't open the box. He let it fade quietly in the filtered but still brilliant sunlight near a transparent wall.\n \n Manet puttered around the spawning monster, trying to brush the copper taste of the station out of his mouth in the mornings, talking to himself, winking at Annie Oakley, and waiting to go mad.\n \n Finally, Manet woke up one morning. He lay in the sheets of his bunk, suppressing the urge to go wash his hands, and came at last to the conclusion that, after all the delay, he was mad.\n \n So he went to open the box.\n \n The cardboard lid seemed to have become both brittle and rotten. It crumbled as easily as ideals. But Manet was old enough to remember the boxes Japanese toys came in when he was a boy, and was not alarmed.\n \n The contents were such a glorious pile of junk, of bottles from old chemistry sets, of pieces from old Erector sets, of nameless things and unremembered antiques from neglected places, that it seemed too good to have been assembled commercially. It was the collection of lifetime.\n \n On top of everything was a paperbound book, the size of the Reader's Digest , covered in rippled gray flexiboard. The title was stamped in black on the spine and cover: The Making of Friends .\n \n Manet opened the book and, turning one blank page, found the title in larger print and slightly amplified: The Making of Friends and Others . There was no author listed. A further line of information stated: \"A Manual for Lifo, The Socialization Kit.\" At the bottom of the title page, the publisher was identified as: LIFO KIT CO., LTD., SYRACUSE.\n \n The unnumbered first chapter was headed Your First Friend .\n \n Before you go further, first find the Modifier in your kit. This is vital .\n \n He quickly riffled through the pages. Other Friends, Authority, A Companion .... Then The Final Model . Manet tried to flip past this section, but the pages after the sheet labeled The Final Model were stuck together. More than stuck. There was a thick slab of plastic in the back of the book. The edges were ridged as if there were pages to this section, but they could only be the tracks of lame ants.\n \n Manet flipped back to page one.\n \n First find the Modifier in your kit. This is vital to your entire experiment in socialization. The Modifier is Part #A-1 on the Master Chart.\n \n He prowled through the box looking for some kind of a chart. There was nothing that looked like a chart inside. He retrieved the lid and looked at its inside. Nothing. He tipped the box and looked at its outside. Not a thing. There was always something missing from kits. Maybe even the Modifier itself.\n \n He read on, and probed and scattered the parts in the long box. He studied the manual intently and groped out with his free hand.\n \n The toe bone was connected to the foot bone....\n \n \n\n \n The Red King sat smugly in his diagonal corner.\n \n The Black King stood two places away, his top half tipsy in frustration.\n \n The Red King crabbed sideways one square.\n \n The Black King pounced forward one space.\n \n The Red King advanced backwards to face the enemy.\n \n The Black King shuffled sideways.\n \n The Red King followed....\n \n Uselessly.\n \n \"Tie game,\" Ronald said.\n \n \"Tie game,\" Manet said.\n \n \"Let's talk,\" Ronald said cheerfully. He was always cheerful.\n \n Cheerfulness was a personality trait Manet had thumbed out for him. Cheerful. Submissive. Co-operative. Manet had selected these factors in order to make Ronald as different a person from himself as possible.\n \n \"The Korean-American War was the greatest of all wars,\" Ronald said pontifically.\n \n \"Only in the air,\" Manet corrected him.\n \n Intelligence was one of the factors Manet had punched to suppress. Intelligence. Aggressiveness. Sense of perfection. Ronald couldn't know any more than Manet, but he could (and did) know less. He had seen to that when his own encephalograph matrix had programmed Ronald's feeder.\n \n \"There were no dogfights in Korea,\" Ronald said.\n \n \"I know.\"\n \n \"The dogfight was a combat of hundreds of planes in a tight area, the last of which took place near the end of the First World War. The aerial duel, sometimes inaccurately referred to as a 'dogfight' was not seen in Korea either. The pilots at supersonic speeds only had time for single passes at the enemy. Still, I believe, contrary to all experts, that this took greater skill, man more wedded to machine, than the leisurely combats of World War One.\"\n \n \"I know.\"\n \n \"Daniel Boone was still a crack shot at eight-five. He was said to be warm, sincere, modest, truthful, respected and rheumatic.\"\n \n \"I know.\"\n \n \n\n \n Manet knew it all. He had heard it all before.\n \n He was so damned sick of hearing about Korean air battles, Daniel Boone, the literary qualities of ancient sports fiction magazines, the painting of Norman Rockwell, New York swing, ad nauseum . What a narrow band of interests! With the whole universe to explore in thought and concept, why did he have to be trapped with such an unoriginal human being?\n \n Of course, Ronald wasn't an original human being. He was a copy.\n \n Manet had been interested in the Fabulous Forties—Lt. \"Hoot\" Gibson, Sam Merwin tennis stories, Saturday Evening Post covers—when he had first learned of them, and he had learned all about them. He had firm opinions on all these.\n \n He yearned for someone to challenge him—to say that Dime Sports had been nothing but a cheap yellow rag and, why, Sewanee Review , there had been a magazine for you.\n \n Manet's only consolidation was that Ronald's tastes were lower than his own. He patriotically insisted that the American Sabre Jet was superior to the Mig. He maintained with a straight face that Tommy Dorsey was a better band man than Benny Goodman. Ronald was a terrific jerk.\n \n \"Ronald,\" Manet said, \"you are a terrific jerk.\"\n \n Ronald leaped up immediately and led with his right.\n \n Manet blocked it deftly and threw a right cross.\n \n Ronald blocked it deftly, and drove in a right to the navel.\n \n The two men separated and, puffing like steam locomotives passing the diesel works, closed again.\n \n Ronald leaped forward and led with his right.\n \n Manet stepped inside the swing and lifted an uppercut to the ledge of Ronald's jaw.\n \n Ronald pinwheeled to the floor.\n \n He lifted his bruised head from the deck and worked his reddened mouth.\n\"Had enough?\" he asked Manet.\n \n Manet dropped his fists to his sides and turned away. \"Yes.\"\n \n Ronald hopped up lightly. \"Another checkers, Billy Boy?\"\n \n \"No.\"\n \n \"Okay. Anything you want, William, old conquerer.\"\n \n Manet scrunched up inside himself in impotent fury.\n \n Ronald was maddeningly co-operative and peaceful. He would even get in a fist fight to avoid trouble between them. He would do anything Manet wanted him to do. He was so utterly damned stupid.\n \n Manet's eyes orbitted towards the checkerboard.\n \n But if he were so much more stupid than he, Manet, why was it that their checker games always ended in a tie?\n \n \n\n \n The calendar said it was Spring on Earth when the radio was activated for a high-speed information and entertainment transmission.\n \n The buzzer-flasher activated in the solarium at the same time.\n \n Manet lay stretched out on his back, naked, in front of the transparent wall.\n \n By rolling his eyes back in his head, Manet could see over a hedge of eyebrows for several hundred flat miles of white sand.\n \n And several hundred miles of desert could see him.\n \n For a moment he gloried in the blatant display of his flabby muscles and patchy sunburn.\n \n Then he sighed, rolled over to his feet and started trudging toward Communication.\n \n He padded down the rib-ridged matted corridor, taking his usual small pleasure in the kaleidoscopic effect of the spiraling reflections on the walls of the tubeway.\n \n As he passed the File Room, he caught the sound of the pounding vibrations against the stoppered plug of the hatch.\n \n \"Come on, Billy Buddy, let me out of this place!\"\n \n Manet padded on down the hall. He had, he recalled, shoved Ronald in there on Lincoln's Birthday, a minor ironic twist he appreciated quietly. He had been waiting in vain for Ronald to run down ever since.\n \n In Communication, he took a seat and punched the slowed down playback of the transmission.\n \n \"Hello, Overseers,\" the Voice said. It was the Voice of the B.B.C. It irritated Manet. He never understood how the British had got the space transmissions assignment for the English language. He would have preferred an American disk-jockey himself, one who appreciated New York swing.\n \n \"We imagine that you are most interested in how long you shall be required to stay at your present stations,\" said the Voice of God's paternal uncle. \"As you on Mars may know, there has been much discussion as to how long it will require to complete the present schedule—\" there was of course no \"K\" sound in the word—\"for atmosphere seeding.\n \n \"The original, non-binding estimate at the time of your departure was\n18.2 years. However, determining how long it will take our stations properly to remake the air of Mars is a problem comparable to finding the age of the Earth. Estimates change as new factors are learned. You may recall that three years ago the official estimate was changed to thirty-one years. The recent estimate by certain reactionary sources of two hundred and seventy-four years is not an official government estimate. The news for you is good, if you are becoming nostalgic for home, or not particularly bad if you are counting on drawing your handsome salary for the time spent on Mars. We have every reason to believe our original estimate was substantially correct. The total time is, within limits of error, a flat 18 years.\"\n \n A very flat 18 years, Manet thought as he palmed off the recorder.\n \n He sat there thinking about eighteen years.\n \n He did not switch to video for some freshly taped westerns.\n \n Finally, Manet went back to the solarium and dragged the big box out. There was a lot left inside.\n \n One of those parts, one of those bones or struts of flesh sprayers, one of them, he now knew, was the Modifier.\n \n The Modifier was what he needed to change Ronald. Or to shut him off.\n \n If only the Master Chart hadn't been lost, so he would know what the Modifier looked like! He hoped the Modifier itself wasn't lost. He hated to think of Ronald locked in the Usher tomb of the File Room for 18 flat years. Long before that, he would have worn his fists away hammering at the hatch. Then he might start pounding with his head. Perhaps before the time was up he would have worn himself down to nothing whatsoever.\n \n Manet selected the ripple-finished gray-covered manual from the hodgepodge, and thought: eighteen years.\n \n Perhaps I should have begun here, he told himself. But I really don't have as much interest in that sort of thing as the earthier types. Simple companionship was all I wanted. And, he thought on, even an insipid personality like Ronald's would be bearable with certain compensations.\n \n Manet opened the book to the chapter headed: The Making of a Girl .\n \n \n\n \n Veronica crept up behind Manet and slithered her hands up his back and over his shoulders. She leaned forward and breathed a moist warmth into his ear, and worried the lobe with her even white teeth.\n \n \"Daniel Boone,\" she sighed huskily, \"only killed three Indians in his life.\"\n \n \"I know.\"\n \n Manet folded his arms stoically and added: \"Please don't talk.\"\n \n She sighed her instant agreement and moved her expressive hands over his chest and up to the hollows of his throat.\n \n \"I need a shave,\" he observed.\n \n Her hands instantly caressed his face to prove that she liked a rather bristly, masculine countenance.\n \n Manet elbowed Veronica away in a gentlemanly fashion.\n \n She made her return.\n \n \"Not now,\" he instructed her.\n \n \"Whenever you say.\"\n \n He stood up and began pacing off the dimensions of the compartment. There was no doubt about it: he had been missing his regular exercise.\n \n \"Now?\" she asked.\n \n \"I'll tell you.\"\n \n \"If you were a jet pilot,\" Veronica said wistfully, \"you would be romantic. You would grab love when you could. You would never know which moment would be last. You would make the most of each one.\"\n \n \"I'm not a jet pilot,\" Manet said. \"There are no jet pilots. There haven't been any for generations.\"\n \n \"Don't be silly,\" Veronica said. \"Who else would stop those vile North Koreans and Red China 'volunteers'?\"\n \n \"Veronica,\" he said carefully, \"the Korean War is over. It was finished even before the last of the jet pilots.\"\n \n \"Don't be silly,\" she snapped. \"If it were over, I'd know about it, wouldn't I?\"\n \n She would, except that somehow she had turned out even less bright, less equipped with Manet's own store of information, than Ronald. Whoever had built the Lifo kit must have had ancient ideas about what constituted appropriate \"feminine\" characteristics.\n \n \"I suppose,\" he said heavily, \"that you would like me to take you back to Earth and introduce you to Daniel Boone?\"\n \n \"Oh, yes.\"\n \n \"Veronica, your stupidity is hideous.\"\n \n She lowered her long blonde lashes on her pink cheeks. \"That is a mean thing to say to me. But I forgive you.\"\n \n An invisible hand began pressing down steadily on the top of his head until it forced a sound out of him. \"Aaaawrraagggh! Must you be so cloyingly sweet? Do you have to keep taking that? Isn't there any fight in you at all?\"\n \n He stepped forward and back-handed her across the jaw.\n \n It was the first time he had ever struck a woman, he realized regretfully. He now knew he should have been doing it long ago.\n \n Veronica sprang forward and led with a right.\n \n \n\n \n Ronald's cries grew louder as Manet marched Veronica through the corridor.\n \n \"Hear that?\" he inquired, smiling with clenched teeth.\n \n \"No, darling.\"\n \n Well, that was all right. He remembered he had once told her to ignore the noise. She was still following orders.\n \n \"Come on, Bill, open up the hatch for old Ronald,\" the voice carried through sepulchrally.\n \n \"Shut up!\" Manet yelled.\n \n The voice dwindled stubbornly, then cut off.\n \n A silence with a whisper of metallic ring to it.\n \n Why hadn't he thought of that before? Maybe because he secretly took comfort in the sound of an almost human voice echoing through the station.\n \n Manet threw back the bolt and wheeled back the hatch.\n \n Ronald looked just the same as had when Manet had seen him last. His hands didn't seem to have been worn away in the least. Ronald's lips seemed a trifle chapped. But that probably came not from all the shouting but from having nothing to drink for some months.\n \n Ronald didn't say anything to Manet.\n \n But he looked offended.\n \n \"You,\" Manet said to Veronica with a shove in the small of the back,\n\"inside, inside.\"\n \n Ronald sidestepped the lurching girl.\n \n \"Do you know what I'm going to do with you?\" Manet demanded. \"I'm going to lock you up in here, and leave you for a day, a month, a year, forever! Now what do you think about that?\"\n \n \"If you think it's the right thing, dear,\" Veronica said hesitantly.\n \n \"You know best, Willy,\" Ronald said uncertainly.\n \n Manet slammed the hatch in disgust.\n \n Manet walked carefully down the corridor, watching streamers of his reflection corkscrewing into the curved walls. He had to walk carefully, else the artery would roll up tight and squash him. But he walked too carefully for this to happen.\n \n As he passed the File Room, Ronald's voice said: \"In my opinion, William, you should let us out.\"\n \n \"I,\" Veronica said, \"honestly feel that you should let me out, Bill, dearest.\"\n \n Manet giggled. \"What? What was that? Do you suggest that I take you back after you've been behind a locked door with my best friend?\"\n \n He went down the corridor, giggling.\n \n He giggled and thought: This will never do.\n \n \n\n \n Pouring and tumbling through the Lifo kit, consulting the manual diligently, Manet concluded that there weren't enough parts left in the box to go around.\n \n The book gave instructions for The Model Mother, The Model Father, The Model Sibling and others. Yet there weren't parts enough in the kit.\n \n He would have to take parts from Ronald or Veronica in order to make any one of the others. And he could not do that without the Modifier.\n \n He wished Trader Tom would return and extract some higher price from him for the Modifier, which was clearly missing from the kit.\n \n Or to get even more for simply repossessing the kit.\n \n But Trader Tom would not be back. He came this way only once.\n \n Manet thumbed through the manual in mechanical frustration. As he did so, the solid piece of the last section parted sheet by sheet.\n \n He glanced forward and found the headings: The Final Model .\n \n There seemed something ominous about that finality. But he had paid a price for the kit, hadn't he? Who knew what price, when it came to that? He had every right to get everything out of the kit that he could.\n \n He read the unfolding page critically. The odd assortment of ill-matched parts left in the box took a new shape in his mind and under his fingers....\n \n Manet gave one final spurt from the flesh-sprayer and stood back.\n \n Victor was finished. Perfect.\n \n Manet stepped forward, lifted the model's left eyelid, tweaked his nose.\n \n \"Move!\"\n \n Victor leaped back into the Lifo kit and did a jig on one of the flesh-sprayers.\n \n As the device twisted as handily as good intentions, Manet realized that it was not a flesh-sprayer but the Modifier.\n \n \"It's finished!\" were Victor's first words. \"It's done!\"\n \n Manet stared at the tiny wreck. \"To say the least.\"\n \n Victor stepped out of the oblong box. \"There is something you should understand. I am different from the others.\"\n \n \"They all say that.\"\n \n \"I am not your friend.\"\n \n \"No?\"\n \n \"No. You have made yourself an enemy.\"\n \n Manet felt nothing more at this information than an esthetic pleasure at the symmetry of the situation.\n \n \"It completes the final course in socialization,\" Victor continued. \"I am your adversary. I will do everything I can to defeat you. I have all your knowledge. You do not have all your knowledge. If you let yourself know some of the things, it could be used against you. It is my function to use everything I possibly can against you.\"\n \n \"When do you start?\"\n \n \"I've finished. I've done my worst. I have destroyed the Modifier.\"\n \n \"What's so bad about that?\" Manet asked with some interest.\n \n \"You'll have Veronica and Ronald and me forever now. We'll never change. You'll get older, and we'll never change. You'll lose your interest in New York swing and jet combat and Daniel Boone, and we'll never change. We don't change and you can't change us for others. I've made the worst thing happen to you that can happen to any man. I've seen that you will always keep your friends. \"\n \n \n\n \n The prospect was frightful.\n \n Victor smiled. \"Aren't you going to denounce me for a fiend?\"\n \n \"Yes, it is time for the denouncement. Tell me, you feel that now you are through? You have fulfilled your function?\"\n \n \"Yes. Yes.\"\n \n \"Now you will have but to lean back, as it were, so to speak, and see me suffer?\"\n \n \" Yes. \"\n \n \"No. Can't do it, old man. Can't. I know. You're too human, too like me. The one thing a man can't accept is a passive state, a state of uselessness. Not if he can possibly avoid it. Something has to be happening to him. He has to be happening to something. You didn't kill me because then you would have nothing left to do. You'll never kill me.\"\n \n \"Of course not!\" Victor stormed. \"Fundamental safety cut-off!\"\n \n \"Rationalization. You don't want to kill me. And you can't stop challenging me at every turn. That's your function.\"\n \n \"Stop talking and just think about your miserable life,\" Victor said meanly. \"Your friends won't grow and mature with you. You won't make any new friends. You'll have me to constantly remind you of your uselessness, your constant unrelenting sterility of purpose. How's that for boredom, for passiveness?\"\n \n \"That's what I'm trying to tell you,\" Manet said irritably, his social manners rusty. \"I won't be bored. You will see to that. It's your purpose. You'll be a challenge, an obstacle, a source of triumph every foot of the way. Don't you see? With you for an enemy, I don't need a friend!\"", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "d7ec6df50f564a1e8393d2a36a795f7d", "response_text": "William Manet is working in atmosphere seeder station 131-47 on Mars. He is completely alone, but doesn't fear loneliness, he welcomes it, and the idea that it might drive him mad one day. His job is to wait, looking out at the expanse of nothingness around him. He is an overseer, to prepare the atmosphere for colonization. One day, Manet thinks he sees a spaceship land near his station. He puts on his pressure suit and heads out to see what it is. As he walks towards it, he finds himself in a rustic log cabin, where a lean, tall man stands, waiting for him. The man calls himself \"Trader Tom\", and offers him a very interesting service. He tells Manet that he will give him a special credit card that will allow him to purchase anything he can think of. Manet's estate would cover the cost, and when Manet asks the man what would happen if he had no estate, Trader Tom simply says that this is a risk that he, and his business, take. Trader Tom asks what would Manet like, to which he replies: to not be alone. Manet signs some paperwork and is given the credit card. \nManet is given a box, it is called \"LIFO, the socialisation kit\". The box contains various items from a person's lifetime. On top is a book entitled \"The Making Of Friends and Others''. It orders the user to find the modifier, which Manet cannot locate. He goes to work anyway, on making his first friend with the tools inside the kit. \nHis first friend he creates is named Ronald. He seems sweet at first but his incessant optimism and lack of intelligence finally becomes too much for Manet. Manet decides to lock Ronald in a room away from him. He is stuck on this planet for the next eighteen years, and will need some kind of company. He goes to work on creating his second companion, a girl. \nVeronica is sweet, she talks kindly to Manet, and throws herself at him, which he swerves. Manet thinks her to be even more stupid than Ronald, and ends up striking her, which he finds he enjoys. He locks her in the same room as Ronald. \nManet once again goes back to the box, and goes to the last page of the handbook, entitled, \"The Final Model\". He creates this new being, whom he calls Victor. Victor jumps to life, and into the kit, destroying the item that Manet now realises was the modifier. Vitor explains to Manet that he is his enemy. He is just as intelligent as Manet, and is his designated adversary. Now that the modifier is destroyed, Manet will have no way to ever alter Veronica or Ronald, and will be stuck with the same silly, innocent people as he grows old. Manet will be bored for eighteen years. Manet replies to Victor, explaining, now that he has an enemy, he will never be bored. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "1b8effce49aa462e8134845444fdb52a", "response_text": "William Manet is an extremely lonely man and is the only human who works at his station. He is part of a small pressure group called the Workers’ Union and works as an Overseer that focuses on the colonization of Mars. He cannot leave his job, but it has a high salary and good future opportunities. Manet sees a spaceship land nearby, and he begins to think he is hallucinating. He goes out to meet the spaceship, and the other man introduces himself as Trader Tom. He says that he serves the wants of spacemen and represents free enterprise. When Manet is suspicious, Tom explains that his businessmen have gone back to the barter system. Furthermore, Manet can also apply for the Trader Tom’s Credit Card and have charges deducted from his estate as payment. He tells Tom that he wants to be alone, and Tom lets him sign a card. He is then given a socialization kit, to which Tom tells him that there have been no complaints about it so far. Manet ignores the box for as long as possible, but he eventually gives in and opens it. There is a collection of junk inside the box and a book titled The Making of Friends and Others. The book gives him instructions on how to create his friend. He then begins to play games with his new friend Ronald. He makes Ronald as somebody with opposite traits as him and enjoys knowing more than his new friend. After a while, however, Manet gets annoyed by Ronald, and the two of them fight. The time then skips to Spring, and Manet has locked Ronald away hoping that he will shut down by himself. He then gets a transmission from the B.B.C, explaining that the estimated time of departure for the Overseers was now eighteen years. Manet then goes back to the box, where he tries to find the Modifier amongst the many parts to shut down or change Ronald. Instead, he creates a girl named Veronica to keep him company. Veronica’s personality is very shallow, and she constantly speaks of things that Manet considers stupid. He locks her up in the same place where he keeps Ronald, and both try to persuade him to let them out. Manet tries to find the Modifier again but instead finds the steps to create one final model. He does so and names it Victor. Suddenly, Victor destroys the Modifier and proclaims himself as Manet’s enemy. He tells Manet that he will do everything he can to defeat him and. Victor says that his biggest accomplishment is destroying the Modifier, so Veronica, Ronald, and himself will continue to exist in the same way forever. Manet, however, is not afraid or concerned about Victor at all. He sees the “enemy” as an obstacle who must be triumphed and exclaims that he does not need friends if he has Victor as an enemy. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "87a5e0c782644e58b42aefeb90501b1f", "response_text": "William Manet is a man stranded alone on Mars. He has taken a job as an Overseer, hired to monitor several Seeders scattered on the planet in order to prepare Earth for colonization of the planet. Though the job is well-paying, Manet is to be at his station indefinitely, alone. Initially, Manet liked the idea of being alone, but he quickly became bored and lonely, and anticipated his madness. One day, Manet sees a ship landing on the surface of Mars outside; he is wary of his own mind and wonders if it is a hallucination, but he approaches the ship anyway, where he enters a cabin and meets a strange man, who refers to himself as Trader Tom. Trader Tom introduces himself and his business, which aims to serve spacemen through a bartering system. Manet is skeptical as to how such a business could exist, and how he would be able to afford whatever services are provided. Trader Tom asks Manet what it is that he wants, to which Manet expresses his loneliness. He gives Manet a Socialization Kit, which is meant to replicate human interaction. Manet makes the deal, but waits a while to open the box. When he finally decides to, he comes across a manual, which advises Manet to find the Modifier inside the kit, which is critical. However, Manet is unable to find the Modifier, as he does not know what it looks like. He ends up creating Ronald, meant to be a companion who is cheerful, pleasant, yet not as smart as Manet. Manet soon becomes tired and irritated with Ronald's repetitive nature, wearing out the same dialogue and topics of conversation. Eventually, Manet locks Ronald in his file room. He later gets a message from the B.B.C, explaining that though his estimated stay time had previously been longer, it has lowered to 18 years. Still unable to locate the Modifier, Manet creates a woman, Veronica, who also ends up being too submissive and repetitive for his taste, and he locks her in with Ronald. Manet comes across instructions for creating \"The Final Model\", which spawns Victor, who immediately destroys what must have been the Modifier. Victor explains that he is not a friend for Manet, but an enemy, meant to challenge and defeat him. Manet realizes that Victor will cure his boredom by presenting obstacles for him to work around every day."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "ef1fa18eb99d41d19c8872ffae5a0f91", "response_text": "William Manet is all alone and is going crazy step by step. He has wanted this experiment for a while but he becomes bored much faster than expected. He has accepted a useless position of an overseer of a station on Mars, all alone in the desert. The salary is high but nothing is provided regarding the overseer having some human interactions or commodities. One day Manet sees a spaceship and is unsure whether it is a hallucination. Nevertheless, he enters a strange cabin and a man offers him a good whiskey. To Manet's astonishment, it turns out the spaceship is created by a free enterprise to serve the spacemen. Manet says to the service that he wants not to be alone and gets a box, the cost is unknown. He doesn't open the box until he decides he is mad. In the box there is a socialization kit with instructions. Then a game follows between Manet and someone called Ronald and a dialogue about war takes place. Very soon, Manet gets bored and tired of his companion, turns out Ronald was a copy of a human with features Manet himself picked. One day Manet listens to BBC and hears that his time left on Mars is 18 years for now. He tries to find the modifier and change Ronald, in the next scene a girl called Veronica appears. She is a submissive and seductive human copy who took the place of Ronald. She is even more stupid and backward in knowledge than her predecessor, Ronald, who has been locked this whole time which was months. Now Veronica joins Ronald in the locked room. In a while the final model pages open up in the instructions and Manet creates Victor. Victor possesses all the knowledge Manet has and is created to defeat Manet, Victor destroys the modifier and wants to make the overseer upset by that. But Manet needed an enemy all this time not to be bored and he is more than happy to have this constant obstacle always in his way. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Where is the story set?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "d7ec6df50f564a1e8393d2a36a795f7d", "response_text": "The story takes place on Mars. Manet is the sole occupant of the Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47. There is nothing to be seen in any direction far beyond the horizon. Mars is described like a blank canvas. It is a boring, desolate place, which only adds to Manet's feelings of loneliness and boredom. Manet crosses from his station to Trader Tom's starship at the beginning of the story. The inner compartment of the ship is like that of a log cabin. There is a slate fireplace with black and orange log charring. The fireplace holds a crackling fire. Manet moves through different rooms in his station throughout the story. When Manet first gets the box, he puts it by a transparent wall in one of the rooms of the station. He moves from his bedroom, the file room, the tube way, to communication, to an area where he plays chess with Ronald, to the solarium,  to another room where he eventually locks both Ronald and Veronica."}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "1b8effce49aa462e8134845444fdb52a", "response_text": "The story is primarily set on Mars. Manet works at the Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47. The station itself is all cybernetically controlled, and all Manet has to do is sit there to monitor everything as the Overseer. The station itself is located in the middle of a chalk desert, and it is always completely barren with miles of white sand. There are many amenities at the station, including a File Room and a radio to receive transmissions from. Apart from the File Room, there is also a solarium where Manet keeps the box from Trader Tom. Additionally, he also has a place with a hatch where he keeps Ronald and Veronica locked up. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "87a5e0c782644e58b42aefeb90501b1f", "response_text": "The story is set on Mars, where Manet resides in the Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47. The station is located in the middle of a vast Mars desert, where Earth is visible in the distance as a tiny star. The interior of the station isn't the most comfortable, made of aluminum and resembling an industrial factory, though he has a transparent wall to provide him with an outside view. Manet gets a change of scene when another ship lands on Mars, where the interior is cozy and comfortable, with a fireplace. The rest of the story, however, continues in Manet's station, limited to a few rooms, including a File Room, where he keeps Ronald and Veronica."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "ef1fa18eb99d41d19c8872ffae5a0f91", "response_text": "The story is set on a station on Mars. The station is standing all alone in the middle of a huge desert and it needs an overseer. The station is small and can accommodate only one human - Manet. There is a starry sky over the station, a couple rooms inside, including a bedroom with a transparent wall, a file room, a corridor, a hall and a place to sit down and watch a transmission or listen to the radio. Once a spaceship with Trader Tom Service arrives, accommodating anything the guest wants inside. In Manet's case it's a cabin with a fireplace.  Then the story returns to his station which stays the same with human copies adding to its housemates one by one. "}]}, {"question_text": "What is the relationship between Ronald and Manet?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "d7ec6df50f564a1e8393d2a36a795f7d", "response_text": "Ronald is Manet's first self-made friend. He constructs him using the parts he finds in the LIFO kit, and follows the manual to put him together properly. Their relationship seems jovial enough at first. They play chess together. Ronald eliminates the loneliness that Manet feels for a short time. Manet had purposely made Ronald to be cheerful, submissive and co-operative. Manet wanted Ronald to be as different to himself as he could be. Manet enjoys the fact that Ronald is not as intelligent as him. They talk about various wars, and Daniel Boone. After a while though, Manet becomes incensed by Ronalds endless, mindless droning about these same topics. Manet begins to fight Ronald, to which Ronald participates, only to please his creator. He is so fed up with Ronald eventually that he locks him in a room, and doesn't let him out. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "1b8effce49aa462e8134845444fdb52a", "response_text": "Ronald and Manet have a relationship that is initially friendly but later becomes very one-sided. Since Manet created Ronald from The Making of Friends and Others manual, all of his traits were chosen by his creator. He is cheerful, cooperative, and submissive. All of these traits make him the polar opposite of Manet. He is also suppressed in terms of intelligence, aggressiveness, and a sense of perfection. Manet and he start off playing games together, most of which almost always end in a tie. They also talk about topics such as the Korean War, Daniel Boone, New York swing, and the painting of Norman Rockwell, amongst a few other topics. Manet initially enjoys being smarter, but he is later sick of Ronald constantly talking about the same subjects. Although he knows that Ronald is only a copy of a human, he still cannot help but want to beat up his self-made friend after calling him a jerk. Manet is furious at the fact that Ronald would stupidly do anything to avoid any trouble with him. This eventually escalates to the point where Ronald is locked away and practically discarded by Manet despite being able to exist forever. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "87a5e0c782644e58b42aefeb90501b1f", "response_text": "Ronald is originally a companion for Manet. He is friendly, obedient, and peaceful, though purposefully not as intelligent as Manet. The two initially get along, their quality time mainly consisting of chess games and conversations about the Korean War and Daniel Boone. Manet eventually becomes irritated with Ronald, but Ronald still attempts to cater to his needs, even getting into a fistfight with Manet. Even when Manet locks Ronald into the file cabinet, Ronald remains cheerful through his pleading. He is oblivious to Manet's hatred and aims to please him no matter what, which enrages Manet even more."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "ef1fa18eb99d41d19c8872ffae5a0f91", "response_text": "Manet felt extremely lonely and desired communication, he created Ronald, a copy of a human from the socialization kit, as totally opposed to himself. Ronald's features were to be cheerful, submissive, cooperative, peaceful, not as intelligent and aggressive as Manet. The two play, talk and fight, but Manet gets bored and intimidated by Ronald very soon. Ronald's narrow interests make Manet angry and he wants to change Ronald all the way but can not find the modifier. Eventually, Manet is so tired of Ronald constantly talking about the same stupid things that he locks the creation in a room for months. "}]}, {"question_text": "What is the purpose of the modifier?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "d7ec6df50f564a1e8393d2a36a795f7d", "response_text": "When Manet first looks into the LIFO kit, there are a number of strange objects inside. On the top of the box is a manual on how to create these new beings, designed for companionship. In the manual, it clearly states that it is of the utmost importance to first find the modifier in the kit. It could be seen in the first part of the master chart. The only problem was, the master chart is missing. Without the master chart, Manet has no way of knowing what the modifier looked like. He decides to create these companions without it regardless. It only becomes clear what the modifier is used for towards the end of the story. When Victor is created, he immediately leaps inside the box, smashing up something Manet thinks to be a flesh sprayer. When it is destroyed, Manet finally realises that it is in fact, the Modifier. Victor explains the modifier's purpose. The modifier is used to change the artificial beings. They are created based on the creator's likes and dislikes. But, as Manet matures, and he grows out of his initial preferences, he would have the modifier to change his companions to fit his new preferences. With this gone, he is stuck with the same Ronald, Veronica and Victor for the next eighteen years. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "1b8effce49aa462e8134845444fdb52a", "response_text": "The purpose of the Modifier is for the user to remove or change whatever type of companion they create. It is an essential part of the socialization experiment, and the manual recommends that finding it is a vital step. Since Manet’s Master Chart is lost, he has no idea what the Modifier looks like and cannot locate it until the very end when Victor destroys it. The Modifier is what Manet needs to disable or change the companions he created, which would undo his dissatisfaction with them. To Victor, the purpose of the Modifier is an object that he must destroy as Manet’s enemy. Since the Modifier is essentially the solution, Victor destroys it in an attempt to defeat Manet. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "87a5e0c782644e58b42aefeb90501b1f", "response_text": "The Modifier is a part of the Socialization Kit that is described as its most vital element. However, it is indistinguishable from the rest of the kit, causing it to be unrecognizable. The Modifier is used to make amends to the people Manet creates from the kit, or to shut the people off altogether. In Manet's case, the Modifier would be helpful in solving his issues with both Manet and Veronica, and allow him to create new people that would appeal to him more. Without the Modifier, which Victor destroys at the end of the story, Manet is stuck with Ronald and Veronica indefinitely, unable to change them."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "ef1fa18eb99d41d19c8872ffae5a0f91", "response_text": "Modifier is vital for the socialization experiment and it is in the kit. It is needed to change or to turn off the created human copy, Ronald in this case. In the very end, it turns out to be one of the flesh-sprayers. With the modifier, Manet is the creator, he is in charge, he can do whatever he pleases with all those he has created. Without it he is powerless to change something or destroy the human copies. The modifier is vital because it is the key to the whole kit, the remote controller. "}]}, {"question_text": "How is Manet's madness portrayed in the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "d7ec6df50f564a1e8393d2a36a795f7d", "response_text": "When we first meet William Manet, he thinks it is inevitable that he will go insane, and even welcomes it. He would get \"fat and dirty\" and he would become animalistic and create a god complex for himself. He quickly slips into madness in his isolation, making notes for lectures to give to no one in particular, a picture of Annie Oakley, winking at him on more than one occasion. The idea of madness is also brought up in the illusive character of \"Trader Tom\". It is not clear whether he or his spaceship are real at all, when it is said that Manet \"Thinks\" he sees the ship one day. There is no definitive answer as to how he gets onto the ship, or who or what Trader Tom works for. When Manet finishes the glass of whiskey, it becomes instantly clean, like he had never drank from it. His ship is also very strange, with a fireplace in it. We can later see Manet's madness in his violent outbursts. We first see him beat up Ronald, and then Veronica. His madness is truly shown when he exclaims that he should have started beating women much sooner. It is unclear throughout the whole story whether any of this took place in the real world, or whether it was all in Manet's head. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "1b8effce49aa462e8134845444fdb52a", "response_text": "Manet’s madness is portrayed in the story as his continuous creations of friends and treatment towards Victor. Instead of being satisfied with his ideal friend, he ends up creating three companions, all of whom he immensely dislikes after some time. Furthermore, when Victor tells him that he has trapped Manet with the three copies forever, the other man does not seem to be frightened or fazed. Manet only says that Victor is too human-like and that a man cannot accept being in a passive state. He also says that Victor will never kill him because it means that there will be nothing for him to do after. Even though Victor tries to insult his life, Manet’s madness has prevented him from caring and only finds his presence as entertainment that will never make him bored. Manet’s madness grows throughout the socialization experiment, and it becomes extremely apparent when the confrontation with Victor happens. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "87a5e0c782644e58b42aefeb90501b1f", "response_text": "Manet's madness starts out as an inevitable concept, which he is aware of himself when he takes the job as an Overseer. He anticipates going mad from loneliness and boredom, but the madness comes sooner than expected. He begins to talk to himself and interact with inanimate objects, such as the photo of Annie Oakley he keeps on his wall. Eventually, his madness progresses, which he embraces, such as how he pretends that the machine will destroy him from the inside. Manet then begins to question his own madness and its abilities to make him hallucinate, specifically when Trader Tom's ship lands in front of him. Later on in the story, Manet's madness is not from loneliness, but from rage and irritation, which is then manifested through violence taken out on Ronald and Veronica."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "ef1fa18eb99d41d19c8872ffae5a0f91", "response_text": "The story starts with Manet's curiosity as some sort of an experiment regarding how fast will he go crazy. He even desires this madness to come because he is bored and lonely, and this thoughts about madness keep him interested at least. He talks to himself and to a portrait, sometimes believing it talks back. When a ship arrives neither he nor the readers can be sure whether it is a hallucination or not. He starts believing in aliens and even when he thinks of the spaceship as a hallucination, he likes the thought of dementia in this loneliness, which is not a healthy thought, but rather a sign of madness. "}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "51274", "uid": "7b3118cb48ce48b2b9cbc84747a8022c", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "AMBITION\n \n \n By WILLIAM L. BADE\n \n Illustrated by L. WOROMAY\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction October 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n\n To the men of the future, the scientific goals of today were as incomprehensible as the ancient quest for the Holy Grail!\n \n \n \n There was a thump. Maitland stirred, came half awake, and opened his eyes. The room was dark except where a broad shaft of moonlight from the open window fell on the foot of his bed. Outside, the residential section of the Reservation slept silently under the pale illumination of the full Moon. He guessed sleepily that it was about three o'clock.\n \n What had he heard? He had a definite impression that the sound had come from within the room. It had sounded like someone stumbling into a chair, or—\n \n Something moved in the darkness on the other side of the room. Maitland started to sit up and it was as though a thousand volts had shorted his brain....\n \n This time, he awoke more normally. He opened his eyes, looked through the window at a section of azure sky, listened to the singing of birds somewhere outside. A beautiful day. In the middle of the process of stretching his rested muscles, arms extended back, legs tensed, he froze, looking up—for the first time really seeing the ceiling. He turned his head, then rolled off the bed, wide awake.\n  This wasn't his room!\n \n \n The lawn outside wasn't part of the Reservation! Where the labs and the shops should have been, there was deep prairie grass, then a green ocean pushed into waves by the breeze stretching to the horizon. This wasn't the California desert! Down the hill, where the liquid oxygen plant ought to have been, a river wound across the scene, almost hidden beneath its leafy roof of huge ancient trees.\n \n Shock contracted Maitland's diaphragm and spread through his body. His breathing quickened. Now he remembered what had happened during the night, the sound in the darkness, the dimly seen figure, and then—what? Blackout....\n \n Where was he? Who had brought him here? For what purpose?\n \n He thought he knew the answer to the last of those questions. As a member of the original atomic reaction-motor team, he possessed information that other military powers would very much like to obtain. It was absolutely incredible that anyone had managed to abduct him from the heavily guarded confines of the Reservation, yet someone had done it. How?\n \n \n\n \n He pivoted to inspect the room. Even before his eyes could take in the details, he had the impression that there was something wrong about it. To begin with, the style was unfamiliar. There were no straight lines or sharp corners anywhere. The walls were paneled in featureless blue plastic and the doors were smooth surfaces of metal, half ellipses, without knobs. The flowing lines of the chair and table, built apparently from an aluminum alloy, somehow gave the impression of arrested motion. Even after allowances were made for the outlandish design, something about the room still was not right.\n \n His eyes returned to the doors, and he moved over to study the nearer one. As he had noticed, there was no knob, but at the right of this one, at about waist level, a push-button projected out of the wall. He pressed it; the door slid aside and disappeared. Maitland glanced in at the disclosed bathroom, then went over to look at the other door.\n \n There was no button beside this one, nor any other visible means of causing it to open.\n \n Baffled, he turned again and looked at the large open window—and realized what it was that had made the room seem so queer.\n \n It did not look like a jail cell. There were no bars....\n \n Striding across the room, he lunged forward to peer out and violently banged his forehead. He staggered back, grimacing with pain, then reached forward cautious fingers and discovered a hard sheet of stuff so transparent that he had not even suspected its presence. Not glass! Glass was never this clear or strong. A plastic, no doubt, but one he hadn't heard of. Security sometimes had disadvantages.\n \n He looked out at the peaceful vista of river and prairie. The character of the sunlight seemed to indicate that it was afternoon. He became aware that he was hungry.\n \n Where the devil could this place be? And—muscles tightened about his empty stomach—what was in store for him here?\n \n He stood trembling, acutely conscious that he was afraid and helpless, until a flicker of motion at the bottom of the hill near the river drew his attention. Pressing his nose against the window, he strained his eyes to see what it was.\n \n A man and a woman were coming toward him up the hill. Evidently they had been swimming, for each had a towel; the man's was hung around his neck, and the woman was still drying her bobbed black hair.\n \n Maitland speculated on the possibility that this might be Sweden; he didn't know of any other country where public bathing at this time of year was customary. However, that prairie certainly didn't look Scandinavian....\n \n As they came closer, he saw that both of them had dark uniform suntans and showed striking muscular development, like persons who had trained for years with weights. They vanished below his field of view, presumably into the building.\n \n He sat down on the edge of the cot and glared helplessly at the floor.\n \n \n\n \n About half an hour later, the door he couldn't open slid aside into the wall. The man Maitland had seen outside, now clad in gray trunks and sandals, stood across the threshold looking in at him. Maitland stood up and stared back, conscious suddenly that in his rumpled pajamas he made an unimpressive figure.\n \n The fellow looked about forty-five. The first details Maitland noticed were the forehead, which was quite broad, and the calm, clear eyes. The dark hair, white at the temples, was combed back, still damp from swimming. Below, there was a wide mouth and a firm, rounded chin.\n \n This man was intelligent, Maitland decided, and extremely sure of himself.\n \n Somehow, the face didn't go with the rest of him. The man had the head of a thinker, the body of a trained athlete—an unusual combination.\n \n Impassively, the man said, \"My name is Swarts. You want to know where you are. I am not going to tell you.\" He had an accent, European, but otherwise unidentifiable. Possibly German. Maitland opened his mouth to protest, but Swarts went on, \"However, you're free to do all the guessing you want.\" Still there was no suggestion of a smile.\n \n \"Now, these are the rules. You'll be here for about a week. You'll have three meals a day, served in this room. You will not be allowed to leave it except when accompanied by myself. You will not be harmed in any way, provided you cooperate. And you can forget the silly idea that we want your childish secrets about rocket motors.\" Maitland's heart jumped. \"My reason for bringing you here is altogether different. I want to give you some psychological tests....\"\n \n \"Are you crazy?\" Maitland asked quietly. \"Do you realize that at this moment one of the greatest hunts in history must be going on? I'll admit I'm baffled as to where we are and how you got me here—but it seems to me that you could have found someone less conspicuous to give your tests to.\"\n \n Briefly, then, Swarts did smile. \"They won't find you,\" he said. \"Now, come with me.\"\n \n \n\n \n After that outlandish cell, Swarts' laboratory looked rather commonplace. There was something like a surgical cot in the center, and a bench along one wall supported several electronics cabinets. A couple of them had cathode ray tube screens, and they all presented a normal complement of meters, pilot lights, and switches. Cables from them ran across the ceiling and came to a focus above the high flat cot in the center of the room.\n \n \"Lie down,\" Swarts said. When Maitland hesitated, Swarts added,\n\"Understand one thing—the more you cooperate, the easier things will be for you. If necessary, I will use coercion. I can get all my results against your will, if I must. I would prefer not to. Please don't make me.\"\n \n \"What's the idea?\" Maitland asked. \"What is all this?\"\n \n Swarts hesitated, though not, Maitland astonishedly felt, to evade an answer, but to find the proper words. \"You can think of it as a lie detector. These instruments will record your reactions to the tests I give you. That is as much as you need to know. Now lie down.\"\n \n Maitland stood there for a moment, deliberately relaxing his tensed muscles. \"Make me.\"\n \n If Swarts was irritated, he didn't show it. \"That was the first test,\" he said. \"Let me put it another way. I would appreciate it a lot if you'd lie down on this cot. I would like to test my apparatus.\"\n \n Maitland shook his head stubbornly.\n \n \"I see,\" Swarts said. \"You want to find out what you're up against.\"\n \n He moved so fast that Maitland couldn't block the blow. It was to the solar plexus, just hard enough to double him up, fighting for breath. He felt an arm under his back, another behind his knees. Then he was on the cot. When he was able to breathe again, there were straps across his chest, hips, knees, ankles, and arms, and Swarts was tightening a clamp that held his head immovable.\n \n \n\n \n Presently, a number of tiny electrodes were adhering to his temples and to other portions of his body, and a minute microphone was clinging to the skin over his heart. These devices terminated in cables that hung from the ceiling. A sphygmomanometer sleeve was wrapped tightly around his left upper arm, its rubber tube trailing to a small black box clamped to the frame of the cot. Another cable left the box and joined the others.\n \n So—Maitland thought—Swarts could record changes in his skin potential, heartbeat, and blood pressure: the involuntary responses of the body to stimuli.\n \n The question was, what were the stimuli to be?\n \n \"Your name,\" said Swarts, \"is Robert Lee Maitland. You are thirty-four years old. You are an engineer, specialty heat transfer, particularly as applied to rocket motors.... No, Mr. Maitland, I'm not going to question you about your work; just forget about it. Your home town is Madison, Wisconsin....\"\n \n \"You seem to know everything about me,\" Maitland said defiantly, looking up into the hanging forest of cabling. \"Why this recital?\"\n \n \"I do not know everything about you—yet. And I'm testing the equipment, calibrating it to your reactions.\" He went on, \"Your favorite recreations are chess and reading what you term science fiction. Maitland, how would you like to go to the Moon ?\"\n \n Something eager leaped in Maitland's breast at the abrupt question, and he tried to turn his head. Then he forced himself to relax. \"What do you mean?\"\n \n Swarts was chuckling. \"I really hit a semantic push-button there, didn't I? Maitland, I brought you here because you're a man who wants to go to the Moon. I'm interested in finding out why .\"\n \n \n\n \n In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slid aside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other for several seconds.\n \n She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin that glowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids of blonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleeveless blouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to her body, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of what seemed to be white wool.\n \n She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something like expectancy. Maitland sighed and said, \"Hello,\" then glanced down self-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.\n \n \n\n \n She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloak billowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closed door for a minute after she was gone.\n \n Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shredded carrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from his stomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunset and to think.\n \n There were three questions for which he required answers before he could formulate any plan or policy.\n \n Where was he?\n \n Who was Swarts?\n \n What was the purpose of the \"tests\" he was being given?\n \n It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate scheme for getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to the contrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have the appearance of a military establishment, and so far there had been nothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected from foreign intelligence officers.\n \n It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked at the Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried to think of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out there was unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would be cultivated, not allowed to go to grass.\n \n This might be somewhere in Africa....\n \n He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-hued glow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to get hold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away. After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue, a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight, Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense of peace and an undefinable longing.\n \n Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.\n \n Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through the constellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again he had watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky, its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward the horizon, and loved it equally in its alter ego of morning star. Venus was an old friend. An old friend....\n \n Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, and diffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fists clenched, forgetting to breathe.\n \n Last night Venus hadn't been there.\n \n Venus was a morning star just now....\n  Just now!\n \n \n He realized the truth in that moment.\n \n \n\n \n Later, when that jewel of a planet had set and the stars were out, he lay on the bed, still warm with excitement and relief. He didn't have to worry any more about military secrets, or who Swarts was. Those questions were irrelevant now. And now he could accept the psychological tests at their face value; most likely, they were what they purported to be.\n \n Only one question of importance remained:\n \n What year was this?\n \n He grimaced in the darkness, an involuntary muscular expression of jubilation and excitement. The future ! Here was the opportunity for the greatest adventure imaginable to 20th Century man.\n \n Somewhere, out there under the stars, there must be grand glittering cities and busy spaceports, roaring gateways to the planets. Somewhere, out there in the night, there must be men who had walked beside the Martian canals and pierced the shining cloud mantle of Venus—somewhere, perhaps, men who had visited the distant luring stars and returned. Surely, a civilization that had developed time travel could reach the stars!\n \n And he had a chance to become a part of all that! He could spend his life among the planets, a citizen of deep space, a voyager of the challenging spaceways between the solar worlds.\n \n \"I'm adaptable,\" he told himself gleefully. \"I can learn fast. There'll be a job for me out there....\"\n  If—\n \n \n Suddenly sobered, he rolled over and put his feet on the floor, sat in the darkness thinking. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would have to find a way of breaking down Swarts' reticence. He would have to make the man realize that secrecy wasn't necessary in this case. And if Swarts still wouldn't talk, he would have to find a way of forcing the issue. The fellow had said that he didn't need cooperation to get his results, but—\n \n After a while Maitland smiled to himself and went back to bed.\n \n \n\n \n He woke in the morning with someone gently shaking his shoulder. He rolled over and looked up at the girl who had brought him his meal the evening before. There was a tray on the table and he sniffed the smell of bacon. The girl smiled at him. She was dressed as before, except that she had discarded the white cloak.\n \n As he swung his legs to the floor, she started toward the door, carrying the tray with the dirty dishes from yesterday. He stopped her with the word, \"Miss!\"\n \n She turned, and he thought there was something eager in her face.\n \n \"Miss, do you speak my language?\"\n \n \"Yes,\" hesitantly. She lingered too long on the hiss of the last consonant.\n \n \"Miss,\" he asked, watching her face intently, \"what year is this?\"\n \n Startlingly, she laughed, a mellow peal of mirth that had nothing forced about it. She turned toward the door again and said over her shoulder, \"You will have to ask Swarts about that. I cannot tell you.\"\n \n \"Wait! You mean you don't know?\"\n \n She shook her head. \"I cannot tell you.\"\n \n \"All right; we'll let it go at that.\"\n \n She grinned at him again as the door slid shut.\n \n \n\n \n Swarts came half an hour later, and Maitland began his planned offensive.\n \n \"What year is this?\"\n \n Swarts' steely eyes locked with his. \"You know what the date is,\" he stated.\n \n \"No, I don't. Not since yesterday.\"\n \n \"Come on,\" Swarts said patiently, \"let's get going. We have a lot to get through this morning.\"\n \n \"I know this isn't 1950. It's probably not even the 20th Century. Venus was a morning star before you brought me here. Now it's an evening star.\"\n \n \"Never mind that. Come.\"\n \n Wordlessly, Maitland climbed to his feet, preceded Swarts to the laboratory, lay down and allowed him to fasten the straps and attach the instruments, making no resistance at all. When Swarts started saying a list of words—doubtlessly some sort of semantic reaction test—Maitland began the job of integrating \"csc\n 3\n x dx\" in his head. It was a calculation which required great concentration and frequent tracing back of steps. After several minutes, he noticed that Swarts had stopped calling words. He opened his eyes to find the other man standing over him, looking somewhat exasperated and a little baffled.\n \n \"What year is this?\" Maitland asked in a conversational tone.\n \n \"We'll try another series of tests.\"\n \n It took Swarts nearly twenty minutes to set up the new apparatus. He lowered a bulky affair with two cylindrical tubes like the twin stacks of a binocular microscope over Maitland's head, so that the lenses at the ends of the tubes were about half an inch from the engineer's eyes. He attached tiny clamps to Maitland's eyelashes.\n \n \"These will keep you from holding your eyes shut,\" he said. \"You can blink, but the springs are too strong for you to hold your eyelids down against the tension.\"\n \n He inserted button earphones into Maitland's ears—\n \n And then the show began.\n \n He was looking at a door in a partly darkened room, and there were footsteps outside, a peremptory knocking. The door flew open, and outlined against the light of the hall, he saw a man with a twelve-gauge shotgun. The man shouted, \"Now I've got you, you wife-stealer!\" He swung the shotgun around and pulled the trigger. There was a terrible blast of sound and the flash of smokeless powder—then blackness.\n \n With a deliberate effort, Maitland unclenched his fists and tried to slow his breathing. Some kind of emotional reaction test—what was the countermove? He closed his eyes, but shortly the muscles around them declared excruciatingly that they couldn't keep that up.\n \n Now he was looking at a girl. She....\n \n Maitland gritted his teeth and fought to use his brain; then he had it.\n \n He thought of a fat slob of a bully who had beaten him up one day after school. He remembered a talk he had heard by a politician who had all the intelligent social responsibility of a rogue gorilla, but no more. He brooded over the damnable stupidity and short-sightedness of Swarts in standing by his silly rules and not telling him about this new world.\n \n Within a minute, he was in an ungovernable rage. His muscles tightened against the restraining straps. He panted, sweat came out on his forehead, and he began to curse. Swarts! How he hated....\n \n The scene was suddenly a flock of sheep spread over a green hillside. There was blood hammering in Maitland's temples. His face felt hot and swollen and he writhed against the restraint of the straps.\n \n The scene disappeared, the lenses of the projector retreated from his eyes and Swarts was standing over him, white-lipped. Maitland swore at him for a few seconds, then relaxed and smiled weakly. His head was starting to ache from the effort of blinking.\n \n \"What year is this?\" he asked.\n \n \"All right,\" Swarts said. \"A.D. 2634.\"\n \n Maitland's smile became a grin.\n \n \n\n \n \"I really haven't the time to waste talking irrelevancies,\" Swarts said a while later. \"Honestly. Maitland, I'm working against a time limit. If you'll cooperate, I'll tell Ching to answer your questions.\"'\n \n \"Ching?\"\n \n \"Ingrid Ching is the girl who has been bringing you your meals.\"\n \n Maitland considered a moment, then nodded. Swarts lowered the projector to his eyes again, and this time the engineer did not resist.\n \n That evening, he could hardly wait for her to come. Too excited to sit and watch the sunset, he paced interminably about the room, sometimes whistling nervously, snapping his fingers, sitting down and jittering one leg. After a while he noticed that he was whistling the same theme over and over: a minute's thought identified it as that exuberant mounting phrase which recurs in the finale of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.\n \n He forgot about it and went on whistling. He was picturing himself aboard a ship dropping in toward Mars, making planetfall at Syrtis Major; he was seeing visions of Venus and the awesome beauty of Saturn. In his mind, he circled the Moon, and viewed the Earth as a huge bright globe against the constellations....\n \n Finally the door slid aside and she appeared, carrying the usual tray of food. She smiled at him, making dimples in her golden skin and revealing a perfect set of teeth, and put the tray on the table.\n \n \"I think you are wonderful,\" she laughed. \"You get everything you want, even from Swarts, and I have not been able to get even a little of what I want from him. I want to travel in time, go back to your 20th Century. And I wanted to talk with you, and he would not let me.\" She laughed again, hands on her rounded hips. \"I have never seen him so irritated as he was this noon.\"\n \n Maitland urged her into the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed. Eagerly he asked, \"Why the devil do you want to go to the 20th Century? Believe me, I've been there, and what I've seen of this world looks a lot better.\"\n \n She shrugged. \"Swarts says that I want to go back to the Dark Age of Technology because I have not adapted well to modern culture. Myself, I think I have just a romantic nature. Far times and places look more exciting....\"\n \n \"How do you mean—\" Maitland wrinkled his brow—\"adapt to modern culture? Don't tell me you're from another time!\"\n \n \"Oh, no! But my home is Aresund, a little fishing village at the head of a fiord in what you would call Norway. So far north, we are much behind the times. We live in the old way, from the sea, speak the old tongue.\"\n \n \n\n \n He looked at her golden features, such a felicitous blend of Oriental and European characteristics, and hesitantly asked, \"Maybe I shouldn't.... This is a little personal, but ... you don't look altogether like the Norwegians of my time.\"\n \n His fear that she would be offended proved to be completely unjustified. She merely laughed and said, \"There has been much history since 1950. Five hundred years ago, Europe was overrun by Pan-Orientals. Today you could not find anywhere a 'pure' European or Asiatic.\" She giggled. \"Swarts' ancestors from your time must be cursing in their graves. His family is Afrikander all the way back, but one of his great-grandfathers was pure-blooded Bantu. His full name is Lassisi Swarts.\"\n \n Maitland wrinkled his brow. \"Afrikander?\"\n \n \"The South Africans.\" Something strange came into her eyes. It might have been awe, or even hatred; he could not tell. \"The Pan-Orientals eventually conquered all the world, except for North America—the last remnant of the American World Empire—and southern Africa. The Afrikanders had been partly isolated for several centuries then, and they had developed technology while the rest of the world lost it. They had a tradition of white supremacy, and in addition they were terrified of being encircled.\" She sighed. \"They ruled the next world empire and it was founded on the slaughter of one and a half billion human beings. That went into the history books as the War of Annihilation.\"\n \n \"So many? How?\"\n \n \"They were clever with machines, the Afrikanders. They made armies of them. Armies of invincible killing-machines, produced in robot factories from robot-mined ores.... Very clever.\" She gave a little shudder.\n \n \"And yet they founded modern civilization,\" she added. \"The grandsons of the technicians who built the Machine Army set up our robot production system, and today no human being has to dirty his hands raising food or manufacturing things. It could never have been done, either, before the population was—reduced to three hundred million.\"\n \n \"Then the Afrikanders are still on top? Still the masters?\"\n \n \n\n \n She shook her head. \"There are no more Afrikanders.\"\n \n \"Rebellion?\"\n \n \"No. Intermarriage. Racial blending. There was a psychology of guilt behind it. So huge a crime eventually required a proportionate expiation. Afrikaans is still the world language, but there is only one race now. No more masters or slaves.\"\n \n They were both silent for a moment, and then she sighed. \"Let us not talk about them any more.\"\n \n \"Robot factories and farms,\" Maitland mused. \"What else? What means of transportation? Do you have interstellar flight yet?\"\n \n \"Inter-what?\"\n \n \"Have men visited the stars?\"\n \n She shook her head, bewildered.\n \n \"I always thought that would be a tough problem to crack,\" he agreed.\n\"But tell me about what men are doing in the Solar System. How is life on Mars and Venus, and how long does it take to get to those places?\"\n \n He waited, expectantly silent, but she only looked puzzled. \"I don't understand. Mars? What are Mars?\"\n \n After several seconds, Maitland swallowed. Something seemed to be the matter with his throat, making it difficult for him to speak. \"Surely you have space travel?\"\n \n She frowned and shook her head. \"What does that mean—space travel?\"\n \n He was gripping the edge of the bed now, glaring at her. \"A civilization that could discover time travel and build robot factories wouldn't find it hard to send a ship to Mars!\"\n \n \"A ship ? Oh, you mean something like a vliegvlotter . Why, no, I don't suppose it would be hard. But why would anyone want to do a thing like that?\"\n \n He was on his feet towering over her, fists clenched. She raised her arms as if to shield her face if he should hit her. \"Let's get this perfectly clear,\" he said, more harshly than he realized. \"So far as you know, no one has ever visited the planets, and no one wants to. Is that right?\"\n \n She nodded apprehensively. \"I have never heard of it being done.\"\n \n He sank down on the bed and put his face in his hands. After a while he looked up and said bitterly, \"You're looking at a man who would give his life to get to Mars. I thought I would in my time. I was positive I would when I knew I was in your time. And now I know I never will.\"\n \n \n\n \n The cot creaked beside him and he felt a soft arm about his shoulders and fingers delicately stroking his brow. Presently he opened his eyes and looked at her. \"I just don't understand,\" he said. \"It seemed obvious to me that whenever men were able to reach the planets, they'd do it.\"\n \n Her pitying eyes were on his face. He hitched himself around so that he was facing her. \"I've got to understand. I've got to know why . What happened? Why don't men want the planets any more?\"\n \n \"Honestly,\" she said, \"I did not know they ever had.\" She hesitated.\n\"Maybe you are asking the wrong question.\"\n \n He furrowed his brow, bewildered now by her.\n \n \"I mean,\" she explained, \"maybe you should ask why people in the 20th Century did want to go to worlds men are not suited to inhabit.\"\n \n Maitland felt his face become hot. \"Men can go anywhere, if they want to bad enough.\"\n \n \"But why ?\"\n \n Despite his sudden irrational anger toward her, Maitland tried to stick to logic. \"Living space, for one thing. The only permanent solution to the population problem....\"\n \n \"We have no population problem. A hundred years ago, we realized that the key to social stability is a limited population. Our economic system was built to take care of three hundred million people, and we have held the number at that.\"\n \n \"Birth control,\" Maitland scoffed. \"How do you make it work—secret police?\"\n \n \"No. Education. Each of us has the right to two children, and we cherish that right so much that we make every effort to see that those two are the best children we could possibly produce....\"\n \n She broke off, looking a little self-conscious. \"You understand, what I have been saying applies to most of the world. In some places like Aresund, things are different. Backward. I still do not feel that I belong here, although the people of the town have accepted me as one of them.\"\n \n \"Even,\" he said, \"granting that you have solved the population problem, there's still the adventure of the thing. Surely, somewhere, there must be men who still feel that.... Ingrid, doesn't it fire something in your blood, the idea of going to Mars—just to go there and see what's there and walk under a new sky and a smaller Sun? Aren't you interested in finding out what the canals are? Or what's under the clouds of Venus? Wouldn't you like to see the rings of Saturn from, a distance of only two hundred thousand miles?\" His hands were trembling as he stopped.\n \n She shrugged her shapely shoulders. \"Go into the past—yes! But go out there? I still cannot see why.\"\n \n \"Has the spirit of adventure evaporated from the human race, or what ?\"\n \n She smiled. \"In a room downstairs there is the head of a lion. Swarts killed the beast when he was a young man. He used a spear. And time traveling is the greatest adventure there is. At least, that is the way I feel. Listen, Bob.\" She laid a hand on his arm. \"You grew up in the Age of Technology. Everybody was terribly excited about what could be done with machines—machines to blow up a city all at once, or fly around the world, or take a man to Mars. We have had our fill of—what is the word?—gadgets. Our machines serve us, and so long as they function right, we are satisfied to forget about them.\n \n \"Because this is the Age of Man . We are terribly interested in what can be done with people. Our scientists, like Swarts, are studying human rather than nuclear reactions. We are much more fascinated by the life and death of cultures than by the expansion or contraction of the Universe. With us, it is the people that are important, not gadgets.\"\n \n Maitland stared at her, his face blank. His mind had just manufactured a discouraging analogy. His present position was like that of an earnest 12th Century crusader, deposited by some freak of nature into the year 1950, trying to find a way of reanimating the anti-Mohammedan movement. What chance would he have? The unfortunate knight would argue in vain that the atomic bomb offered a means of finally destroying the infidel....\n \n Maitland looked up at the girl, who was regarding him silently with troubled eyes. \"I think I'd like to be alone for a while,\" he said.", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "101", "uid": "3de4f98837da44d9a396d453516b49af", "response_text": "Maitland, a militant engineer specialized in atomic rocket motors, awakes one night to a strange sound in his room. He blacks out and awakes again, this time in a room that isn't his. He takes in his surroundings and notices a prairie and a river outside his window, and within his room a door to exit which he cannot open. As Maitland wonders helplessly, a man by the name of Swarts enters his room. Swarts tells Maitland that he is here to participate in a series of psychological tests, assuring him that he is not interested in any secret intelligence related to his career. Swarts leads Maitland to his laboratory, where a cot stands in the center of the room under a ceiling of electric cables. Maitland resists initially, wary of the extent Swarts would go to in order for him to comply; however, Swarts manages to get Maitland onto the cot by force. He then reveals his main objective, which is figuring out why Maitland has a passion and longing to go to the Moon. Later that evening, Maitland meets a girl, later referred to as Ingrid Ching, who silently brings him a meal. He stares outside his window, trying to piece together where he could be, when he notices the presence of Venus in the sky as an evening star and comes to the realization that he has traveled to the future. Bewildered, Maitland is eager to learn more about the advancements of society, namely the status of man's trip to space. He asks Ching, who refuses to answer, and is then brought back to Swarts' lab. Maitland, determined to have his questions answered, rebels against Swarts' following tests through mental resistance. Becoming frustrated, Swarts tells Maitland that they are in the year A.D 2634, and that Ching would answer remaining questions if he complied with the tests. Agreeing, Ching visits Maitland that evening, and indulges him in the history of the human race up to this point, including stories of the Afrikanders, who dominated technological advancements and ruled the global empire, and how the world eventually transformed into one race. Maitland asks Ching whether humans have been able to go to space yet, and she is perplexed. She tells him that though she doesn't think it would be impossible, it has not been done, and she wonders why such a thing would be desired. Ching explains that the world is no longer in an age of technology, but an age of understanding humans and cultures within their world. Maitland is defeated; he cannot comprehend how there is no interest in traveling to space, realizing that his lifelong goal has become unattainable. "}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "16a848bdede4486ebfa583d9a01c5957", "response_text": "The story starts with Maitland waking up from a loud thump but quickly goes back to sleep. Later he realizes that he is not in his room. This is not the Reservation. Then he remembers that something has happened during the night. He believes that whoever captures him must want information about the rocket motor. He gets up to inspect the room but only find a door leading to the bathroom. The other door cannot be opened and the view from the window is unfamiliar. About half an hour later, the other door opens and a man named Swarts explains that he will perform some psychological tests on Maitland for about a week and does not want any information regarding the rocket motor. Even though Swarts made it clear that he can obtain the results he want with or without Maitland’s cooperation, Maitland still protests. He puts up a fight but ends up on the cot that will record his body changes. Swarts notes that the question regarding traveling to the moon seems to have created involuntary responses, and he wants to know why. \n\nBack at the cell, dinner is brought by an Oriental looking girl. Maitland watches the sunset and suddenly realizes that Venus was a morning star, but now he sees it after sunset. He becomes excited after learning that he has time travelled and is determined to ask Swarts which year he is in. He assumes that there are spaceports in the space to reach the starts. The next day Maitland asks the girl what year they’re in, but she refuses to tell him. Swarts also refuses to tell him anything, thus he does not cooperate in the labs. Finally, Swarts yields and tells him that they are in A.D. 2634. He assures Maitland that the girl, Ingrid Ching, will answer his questions. Then Maitland cooperates. Later Maitland learns about the ‘history’ that has happened since his time. And he learns that they have no interest in going to outer space. Instead of the age of technology, they are in the age of man.   "}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "3400c96e0f4940a8ab1baa9e66aab602", "response_text": "Maitland wakes up in his room in the residential section of the Reservation. He thinks he sees a man in the corner of his room, and just then, he is knocked unconscious. He awakens again the next morning, soon realising that he is not in his room anymore, and he is not in the Reservation either. He must have been abducted in the night and taken to this strange place that is steeped in beautiful nature. Through the window of his room he sees a man and a woman coming up a hill towards the building he is in. Half an hour later, the man he had seen earlier arrives in his room. He tells Maitland his name is Swarts. He isn't going to tell him where he is, and that even though Maitland works in the engineering of rocket motors, he has no interest in extracting secrets from his job. He will be performing a series of tests on Maitland. He takes him to his lab, where Maitland refuses to participate in Swarts' test, so Swarts beats him up and pins him down. He asks Maitland if he wants to go to the moon, then telling him that he wants to understand why. In the evening, a girl enters Maitland's room, bringing him dinner. He notices how beautiful she is. He wonders what this is all about. He watches the sun set, and the stars come out. He notices Venus in the sky, his favourite planet. He then realises that Venus was just a morning star, and it is now an evening star. He must've traveled into the future. Maitland is determined to get the truth about what year it is from Swarts. After great resistance to the tests that Swarts puts him through the next day, the man finally gives into Maitlands question, telling him it is the year 2634. He tells him that the girl who had brought him food, named Ingrid Ching, would answer any questions he might have. Maitland is overcome with excitement at the idea that he might find a place in this society, and be able to use their technology to travel in space. He is quickly brought down though when Ching tells him that there is no such thing as space travel, as the population of Earth, which is now only 300 million, have no interest in such a thing. She tells him a bit about the history of Earth since the 20th century and Maitland is devastated to learn that he will never realise his dream of traveling to space. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "c2ef4764fcb248bf9642ce27025ed0b7", "response_text": "Maitland wakes up in a strange room in an unexpected location. He thinks to himself where he might be and starts to feel scared and helpless because he is unsure. Suddenly, a man, Swarts, appears at the now opened entrance to his room. Swarts tells Maitland that he will be there for a week and be fed 3 meals a day. Swarts continues to say that he will not tell Maitland where he is and that the purpose of his stay is to undergo psychological tests. \n\nSwarts leads Maitland into the laboratory room tells Maitland to lie down on the surgical cot at the center of the room. The first test will be similar to a lie detector test. He warns Maitland that he should cooperate, but Maitland becomes purposefully defiant. Swarts then forces Maitland onto the cot and straps him into it. Maitland begins to think about what the tests might be as Swarts sets up the different instruments. Swarts then begins the experiment and asks Maitland to explain why he wants to go to the moon. Maitland is intrigued by the question as it was unexpected.\n\nAfter returning to his cell and eating the meal that Ching brought him, Maitland begins to think about the situation. After making some observations about the sky, Maitland realizes where he is. He notices that Venus is suddenly an evening star. He becomes full of excitement and thinks about all the possible implications. Energized by his new knowledge, he thinks of a plan to get Swarts to be more open with him and then goes to sleep. After conversing with Ching during his breakfast, Maitland waits in his room until Swarts walks in and then promptly asks Swarts the year. Swarts avoid answering the question and takes Maitland to the laboratory for more testing. \n\nMaitland tries to fight against the new machine hoping Swarts will answer his question and his efforts are successful. Swarts tells him that it is the year 2634, and Maitland responds with a grin. He agrees to cooperate with Swarts as long as Ching answers his questions after the experiments. Back in his cell, Ching tells Maitland a quick history of the world of the last 500 years. She explains the deadly war that occurred and the response to it. Maitland then excitedly asks about space innovation but Ching seems confused by the question. Ching asks Maitland why he or anyone else during his time wants to travel in space. Maitland finds it incredulous that with all of the technology at hand people have not traveled to space. Ching explains that her time is the Age of Man and as long as machines work, humans don’t want to think about them, while Maitland’s time is the Age of Technology. Maitland is very discouraged upon learning that in the present time there is not a familiar interest in space travel and asks to be alone in his room in reaction to the upsetting news. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the setting of the story.", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "101", "uid": "3de4f98837da44d9a396d453516b49af", "response_text": "The majority of the story takes place in the cell that Maitland is kept in by Swarts. The room is unconventional, according to Maitland, with no sharp edges, lines, or corners. Instead, the room is rounded, mostly made of smooth metal and plastic. There is no knob or latch on his door, and his window is made of a plastic so transparent it looks invisible. Because Maitland cannot leave his room, his observation of the outside is limited to what is through his window; the land outside is lush, with a rich prairie, an ocean, and a river. He has a view of the vast sky, and at night is able to see the stars. The other location that Maitland experiences in the story is Swarts' lab, which looks similar to an ordinary lab, with familiar electronics and machinery. "}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "16a848bdede4486ebfa583d9a01c5957", "response_text": "The story first takes place in Maitland’s room which has an open window at the side of his bed. Later when Maitland wakes up, he is not in his room anymore. This room is no straight lines or sharp corners; there are blue and featureless walls made from plastic, smooth doors made from metals, chair and table from aluminum alloy. Interestingly, the doors does not have any knob, but there is a button on the wall that controls one of the two doors. The door opens to the bathroom. The other one cannot be controlled from the inside. The window is made of strong transparent plastics. Outside the window, there are deep prairie grass and the ocean stretches to the horizon. Instead of the oxygen plant in the California desert, there is a river down the hill covered by huge ancient trees. Outside the other door is a laboratory which has a surgical cot and a bench at the side of the room. It supports a few electronics cabinets. There are cables from the ceiling, going to a focus above the cot. "}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "3400c96e0f4940a8ab1baa9e66aab602", "response_text": "The story takes place in two time periods. The first setting of the story is in Maitland's room in the residential section of the reservation in 1950. He is then taken to the year 2634. In the room that he wakes up in, there is a palpable sense of uneasiness. There are no straight lines anywhere, and every surface is smooth. There are two doors in the room, one of which has a button beside it, when pressed leading to a bathroom. The other door has no way to open it from the inside. In Swarts' lab in the same building is a surgical cot, a bench, some screens, cables, pilot lights and switches. The outside of the building presents a beautiful, open landscape. There is a lawn directly outside the building which leads to a green ocean. Down a hill is a benign river, underneath a patch of huge trees. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "c2ef4764fcb248bf9642ce27025ed0b7", "response_text": "The story begins with Maitland waking up believing that he’s in the residential section of the Reservation and then realizing that he’s not. Where he is, he’s not sure but he can see dark green pastoral grass and ocean stretching to the horizon. The room that he is in appears strange to him. He notes that it gives him access to a bathroom but not the ability to leave the room of his own volition. \n\nWhen a man enters Maitland’s room, the man leads Maitland from his strange cell into a laboratory. The laboratory has a surgical cot at the center of the room with a bench on the wall that holds different electronics. Maitland is put on the cot and the experiment begins. \n\nOnce the experiment, is over, Maitland returns to his cell where he is given food and falls asleep for the night. \n\nAccording to Maitland he is from the 20th century but believes that he was brought into the future. His hypothesis is based upon that Venus is now an evening star when it was a morning star before he was brought to the facility. After asking Swarts to confirm his theory and being ignored, Maitland is brought back to the laboratory for more testing. After another finished day of testing, Maitland is brought to his cell where he talks with Ching and asks her questions about the current period of time. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the significance of space in the story?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "101", "uid": "3de4f98837da44d9a396d453516b49af", "response_text": "Throughout the story, Maitland shows his passion and knowledge for space; it defines him as a character and helps him in figuring out certain aspects of his situation. Maitland's passion for space is first introduced when Swarts asks him about going to the Moon. Maitland is taken aback by this question, and Swarts knows that the idea is extremely important to him; in fact, Maitland's dream of going to the Moon is the whole reason why he is experiencing these tests. Later on, space is significant in helping Maitland come to a realization. As he stares out the window trying to gauge where in the world he is located, he notices that Venus, his favorite planet, is in the sky during the evening, when back at the Reservation, it was a morning star. Maitland's knowledge of constellations and planets leads him to realize that he must have traveled into the future. Once Maitland realizes this, his main question is about space travel, and whether humans have achieved it. Once he learns that it has not been attempted or achieved, Maitland's motivation is lost; space was the driving force in his life and career, and space travel not being possible left him hopeless."}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "16a848bdede4486ebfa583d9a01c5957", "response_text": "Firstly, Swarts asks Maitland a question regarding Moon and he wants to know why Maitland wants to travel to the Moon. Moreover, space and the stars in space helped Maitland realize that they are not in his time anymore. The morning star Venus has become an evening star. Understanding that the people in the future are capable of time travel, Maitland was sure that they are also space travelling. However, when he asks Ching about their interstellar flights, she gets confused. Apparently, there has not been any desire to go to other planets. Even when they have the technology, there is no interest in exploring the space. But they do like to go to the past, they consider this an adventure while space travel is not. "}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "3400c96e0f4940a8ab1baa9e66aab602", "response_text": "Space is very significant in the story. Maitland is a man who wishes to one day travel to mars. Swarts asks him if he wants to go to the moon. The reasoning behind Swarts testing Maitland is in an effort to discover why someone from the 20th century would want to go to the moon at all. In the year 2634, they have no interest or need for space travel. Ching doesn't even know what Mars is. They have the capability to travel to space, but don't care to. Their population is only 300 million, meaning that they're not going to run out of resources or space on Earth. They also see no need to travel to space in the name of adventure, as they have time travel, which according to Ching, is the greatest adventure of all. Maitland is devastated to discover that he will not travel to space. He wants to see the sun as a smaller star on mars, he wants to walk on Venus, he wants to see the rings of Saturn from only 200,000 miles away."}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "c2ef4764fcb248bf9642ce27025ed0b7", "response_text": "Maitland works in the speciality of heat transfer in relation to its application to rocket motors. He has a great and undeniable interest in space. He is able to discern his real location in time using his knowledge of space and the solar system to understand that he is not in the same time as he was before being at the facility. \n\nSpace seems to be of relevance to Swarts and his psychological tests as during the first experiment Swarts tells Maitland that he was brought because of his interest in the moon. One of the first questions Swarts asks Maitland is for his reasoning of why he wants to go to the moon. So, it is clear that Swarts is interested in studying Maitland’s passion and desire for space travel.\n\nWhen discussing with Ching the history and advances that the human race has made since his generation, he excitedly asks about what other planets have been visited and other general information on space travel. His question confuses Ching because she does not understand why he is interested in traveling to space. Maitland finds it incredulously that they have so much technology but have not traveled to space. It shows the dichotomy of their viewpoints because Maitland sees space travel as a solution to population control and as an interesting prospect because space invites and feeds an adventurous spirit. On the other hand, Ching and the rest of the world have no desire for space innovation or travel because it is unnecessary to further interaction with technology. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the relationship between Maitland and Ching throughout the story?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "101", "uid": "3de4f98837da44d9a396d453516b49af", "response_text": "Maitland and Ching hold no significant reservations about each other upon meeting; they had no more interaction than Ching bringing him meals and leaving. As the story progresses, and Ching is able to answer Maitland's questions about the world they are in, she shares a bit about herself. Trust is built between the two as Ching shares her knowledge of global history, and Maitland learns that like his passion for space travel, Ching has a passion for time travel, specifically back to the 20th century, where Maitland is from. Though Ching has to break the news to Maitland that space travel has not been done, she attempts to comfort him through explanations and consolation. While by the end of the story, Ching and Maitland are not exactly friends, they have both confided in each other and have learned a lot about the other."}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "16a848bdede4486ebfa583d9a01c5957", "response_text": "Ching is the girl who was ordered to bring Maitland his meals every day. Once he realizes that he is in the ‘future’ he asks her what year they are in. But Ching says she cannot tell him. Only until Swarts gives her the order to answer Maitland’s questions, did she start answering him. Swarts waits excitedly for her to come. When she gets to the room, she smiled at Maitland and comments that he is wonderful. She admires him for being able to get what he wants from Swarts. Ching tells Maitland about the ‘history’ that has happened since the time that Maitland is from, the 20th century. Later Maitland acknowledges that the people in this era do not desire space travel. He is sad, but Ching soothes him. As they argue about the reasons for space travel, Maitland becomes confused, which turns into anger. Not capable of processing everything that he has just learned, Maitland tells Ching that he would like to be alone for a while. "}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "3400c96e0f4940a8ab1baa9e66aab602", "response_text": "Maitland is obviously very attracted to Ching throughout the story. When Ching first arrives in his room, he notices how beautiful she is. He gets embarrassed when the gorgeous woman, who is so well dressed, sees him in his crumpled up pyjamas. She brings him his food, but when Swarts tells Maitland the truth about what year it is, he is able to ask Ching questions about their time period. Ching tells him how special she thinks he is, smiling at him. She tells him how she wishes to travel back to the 20th century, because she is a romantic. Ching explains to Maitland the history of Earth since the 20th century, and how most of the population were wiped out, and the rise and fall of empires with robot armies. She tells him that people now have no interest in space travel, to which Maitland becomes visibly enraged, scaring her into thinking he might strike her. She tries to comfort him after a while. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "c2ef4764fcb248bf9642ce27025ed0b7", "response_text": "Ching brings Maitland his food for his meal times throughout the day. The first time they meet, she shows curiosity towards him and appears to be friendly. Ching has a caretaker role for Maitland as she brings him his food and wakes him up in the morning. On their second meeting, Ching laughs when Maitland asks her what year it is and explains that she cannot tell them. It shows that they are interacting in a friendly manner and it is not a hostile or tense situation even though Maitland is being held at the facility without his permission. Ching admires Maitland because is successful in persuading Swarts into telling him the information he wants to know. Ching becomes concerned with Maitland after he is incredulous that the current generation of humans has no desire for space travel and exploration. "}]}, {"question_text": "What kinds of gadgets and machinery are used by Swarts in the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "101", "uid": "3de4f98837da44d9a396d453516b49af", "response_text": "Swarts uses different technology for his various tests. In the first, he uses electrodes and cables placed in various spots on Maitland's body, meant to record how Maitland responds and reacts to various stimuli. These include heart monitors, blood pressure recorders, and measurements of brain activity. Swarts uses similar technology in the next test to record Maitland's reactions, with a few additions. Firstly, he introduces gadgets attached to Maitland's eyelashes that keep him from closing his eyes. He also attaches lenses and a projector to Maitland's eyes to display different scenes to him."}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "16a848bdede4486ebfa583d9a01c5957", "response_text": "Firstly, Swarts or his men probably used some kinds of gadgets and brought Maitland from the heavily guarded Reservation. At the lab, Swarts tells Maitland to lay on the surgical cot, where cables run from the ceiling to the focus above the cot in the center of the room. When Maitland refuses to corporate, Swarts uses his fist to hit Maitland’s solar plexus and put him onto the cot, where he is forced to remain still. The tiny electrodes are placed at his temples and other parts of his body, minute microphone placed on the skin over his heart, and a sphygmomanometer on his arm. Those gadgets are used to record his involuntary responses. When Maitland realizes that he is in the future, he refuses to corporate. Then, Swarts places two cylindrical tubes over Maitland’s head, there are lenses at the end of the tubes. The tiny clamps on Maitland’s eyelashes prevent his eyelids from closing for a long time. Earphones are placed in his ears. A video is played through the lenses. "}, {"worker_id": "106", "uid": "3400c96e0f4940a8ab1baa9e66aab602", "response_text": "Swarts uses many different gadgets throughout the story. Along the wall of Swarts' laboratory are several electronic cabinets holding cathode ray tube screens. He uses a lie detector on Maitland made up of a multitude of tiny electrodes and a sphygmomanometer sleeve. He then uses an apparatus which he lowers over Maitland's head, with two cylindrical tubes with lenses at the end, and clamps to keep his eyelids open. It has a screen inside that projects videos. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "c2ef4764fcb248bf9642ce27025ed0b7", "response_text": "The first machine used by Swarts on Maitland when conducting the psychological tests is similar to a lie detector. The machine is meant to record Maitland’s reactions to the different tests that he is given. It operates by attaching electrodes to Maitland’s temples and other parts of his body and then putting a tiny microphone on his skin near his heart. In addition, a sphygmomanometer sleeve is wrapped around one of his arms. The different instruments on this machine are used to record the changes in Maitland’s skin potential, blood pressure, and heartbeat. Thus, it measures his natural reaction to the stimuli he will be exposed to during the tests. \n\nThe next time he is tested, it is a new machine that has two cylindrical tubes similar to a binocular microscope that is placed over his head. Tiny clamps are attached to his eyelashes to keep his eyes from shutting. Earphones are also used to further the immersive experience of the new test. The new machine shows Maitland different clips, some disturbing, to gauge his various reactions. \n"}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "63041", "uid": "0e6185c3ebc5451db91e8dae2dceac7e", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "Morgue Ship\n \n\n By RAY BRADBURY\n \n \n This was Burnett's last trip. Three more shelves to fill with space-slain warriors—and he would be among the living again.\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Summer 1944. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n \n He heard the star-port grind open, and the movement of the metal claws groping into space, and then the star-port closed.\n \n There was another dead man aboard the Constellation .\n \n Sam Burnett shook his long head, trying to think clearly. Pallid and quiet, three bodies lay on the cold transparent tables around him; machines stirred, revolved, hummed. He didn't see them. He didn't see anything but a red haze over his mind. It blotted out the far wall of the laboratory where the shelves went up and down, numbered in scarlet, keeping the bodies of soldiers from all further harm.\n \n Burnett didn't move. He stood there in his rumpled white surgical gown, staring at his fingers gloved in bone-white rubber; feeling all tight and wild inside himself. It went on for days. Moving the ship. Opening the star-port. Extending the retriever claw. Plucking some poor warrior's body out of the void.\n \n He didn't like it any more. Ten years is too long to go back and forth from Earth to nowhere. You came out empty and you went back full-cargoed with a lot of warriors who didn't laugh or talk or smoke, who just lay on their shelves, all one hundred of them, waiting for a decent burial.\n \n \"Number ninety-eight.\" Coming matter of fact and slow, Rice's voice from the ceiling radio hit Burnett.\n \n \"Number ninety-eight,\" Burnett repeated. \"Working on ninety-five, ninety-six and ninety-seven now. Blood-pumps, preservative, slight surgery.\" Off a million miles away his voice was talking. It sounded deep. It didn't belong to him anymore.\n \n Rice said:\n \n \"Boyohbody! Two more pick-ups and back to New York. Me for a ten-day drunk!\"\n \n Burnett peeled the gloves off his huge, red, soft hands, slapped them into a floor incinerator mouth. Back to Earth. Then spin around and shoot right out again in the trail of the war-rockets that blasted one another in galactic fury, to sidle up behind gutted wrecks of ships, salvaging any bodies still intact after the conflict.\n \n Two men. Rice and himself. Sharing a cozy morgue ship with a hundred other men who had forgotten, quite suddenly, however, to talk again.\n \n Ten years of it. Every hour of those ten years eating like maggots inside, working out to the surface of Burnett's face, working under the husk of his starved eyes and starved limbs. Starved for life. Starved for action.\n \n This would be his last trip, or he'd know the reason why!\n \n \"Sam!\"\n \n Burnett jerked. Rice's voice clipped through the drainage-preservative lab, bounded against glassite retorts, echoed from the refrigerator shelves. Burnett stared at the tabled bodies as if they would leap to life, even while preservative was being pumped into their veins.\n \n \"Sam! On the double! Up the rungs!\"\n \n Burnett closed his eyes and said a couple of words, firmly. Nothing was worth running for any more. Another body. There had been one hundred thousand bodies preceding it. Nothing unusual about a body with blood cooling in it.\n \n \n\n \n Shaking his head, he walked unsteadily toward the rungs that gleamed up into the air-lock, control-room sector of the rocket. He climbed without making any noise on the rungs.\n \n He kept thinking the one thing he couldn't forget.\n  You never catch up with the war.\n \n \n All the color is ahead of you. The drive of orange rocket traces across stars, the whamming of steel-nosed bombs into elusive targets, the titanic explosions and breathless pursuits, the flags and the excited glory are always a million miles ahead.\n \n He bit his teeth together.\n  You never catch up with the war.\n \n \n You come along when space has settled back, when the vacuum has stopped trembling from unleashed forces between worlds. You come along in the dark quiet of death to find the wreckage plunging with all the fury of its original acceleration in no particular direction. You can only see it; you don't hear anything in space but your own heart kicking your ribs.\n \n You see bodies, each in its own terrific orbit, given impetus by grinding collisions, tossed from mother ships and dancing head over feet forever and forever with no goal. Bits of flesh in ruptured space suits, mouths open for air that had never been there in a hundred billion centuries. And they kept dancing without music until you extended the retriever-claw and culled them into the air-lock.\n \n That was all the war-glory he got. Nothing but the stunned, shivering silence, the memory of rockets long gone, and the shelves filling up all too quickly with men who had once loved laughing.\n \n You wondered who all the men were; and who the next ones would be. After ten years you made yourself blind to them. You went around doing your job with mechanical hands.\n \n But even a machine breaks down....\n \n \n\n \n \"Sam!\" Rice turned swiftly as Burnett dragged himself up the ladder. Red and warm, Rice's face hovered over the body of a sprawled enemy official. \"Take a look at this!\"\n \n Burnett caught his breath. His eyes narrowed. There was something wrong with the body; his experienced glance knew that. He didn't know what it was.\n \n Maybe it was because the body looked a little too dead.\n \n Burnett didn't say anything, but he climbed the rest of the way, stood quietly in the grey-metal air-lock. The enemy official was as delicately made as a fine white spider. Eyelids, closed, were faintly blue. The hair was thin silken strands of pale gold, waved and pressed close to a veined skull. Where the thin-lipped mouth fell open a cluster of needle-tipped teeth glittered. The fragile body was enclosed completely in milk-pale syntha-silk, a holstered gun at the middle.\n \n Burnett rubbed his jaw. \"Well?\"\n \n Rice exploded. His eyes were hot in his young, sharp-cut face, hot and black. \"Good Lord, Sam, do you know who this is?\"\n \n Burnett scowled uneasily and said no.\n \n \"It's Lethla!\" Rice retorted.\n \n Burnett said, \"Lethla?\" And then: \"Oh, yes! Kriere's majordomo. That right?\"\n \n \"Don't say it calm, Sam. Say it big. Say it big! If Lethla is here in space, then Kriere's not far away from him!\"\n \n Burnett shrugged. More bodies, more people, more war. What the hell. What the hell. He was tired. Talk about bodies and rulers to someone else.\n \n Rice grabbed him by the shoulders. \"Snap out of it, Sam. Think! Kriere—The All-Mighty—in our territory. His right hand man dead. That means Kriere was in an accident, too!\"\n \n Sam opened his thin lips and the words fell out all by themselves.\n\"Look, Rice, you're new at this game. I've been at it ever since the Venus-Earth mess started. It's been see-sawing back and forth since the day you played hookey in the tenth grade, and I've been in the thick of it. When there's nothing left but seared memories, I'll be prowling through the void picking up warriors and taking them back to the good green Earth. Grisly, yes, but it's routine.\n \n \"As for Kriere—if he's anywhere around, he's smart. Every precaution is taken to protect that one.\"\n \n \"But Lethla! His body must mean something!\"\n \n \"And if it does? Have we got guns aboard this morgue-ship? Are we a battle-cuiser to go against him?\"\n \n \"We'll radio for help?\"\n \n \"Yeah? If there's a warship within our radio range, seven hundred thousand miles, we'll get it. Unfortunately, the tide of battle has swept out past Earth in a new war concerning Io. That's out, Rice.\"\n \n Rice stood about three inches below Sam Burnett's six-foot-one. Jaw hard and determined, he stared at Sam, a funny light in his eyes. His fingers twitched all by themselves at his sides. His mouth twisted,\n\"You're one hell of a patriot, Sam Burnett!\"\n \n Burnett reached out with one long finger, tapped it quietly on Rice's barrel-chest. \"Haul a cargo of corpses for three thousand nights and days and see how patriotic you feel. All those fine muscled lads bloated and crushed by space pressures and heat-blasts. Fine lads who start out smiling and get the smile burned off down to the bone—\"\n \n Burnett swallowed and didn't say anything more, but he closed his eyes. He stood there, smelling the death-odor in the hot air of the ship, hearing the chug-chug-chug of the blood pumps down below, and his own heart waiting warm and heavy at the base of his throat.\n \n \"This is my last cargo, Rice. I can't take it any longer. And I don't care much how I go back to earth. This Venusian here—what's his name? Lethla. He's number ninety-eight. Shove me into shelf ninety-nine beside him and get the hell home. That's how I feel!\"\n \n Rice was going to say something, but he didn't have time.\n \n Lethla was alive.\n \n He rose from the floor with slow, easy movements, almost like a dream. He didn't say anything. The heat-blast in his white fingers did all the necessary talking. It didn't say anything either, but Burnett knew what language it would use if it had to.\n \n Burnett swallowed hard. The body had looked funny. Too dead. Now he knew why. Involuntarily, Burnett moved forward. Lethla moved like a pale spider, flicking his fragile arm to cover Burnett, the gun in it like a dead cold star.\n \n Rice sucked in his breath. Burnett forced himself to take it easy. From the corners of his eyes he saw Rice's expression go deep and tight, biting lines into his sharp face.\n \n Rice got it out, finally. \"How'd you do it?\" he demanded, bitterly.\n\"How'd you live in the void? It's impossible!\"\n \n A crazy thought came ramming down and exploded in Burnett's head. You never catch up with the war!\n \n \n But what if the war catches up with you?\n \n What in hell would Lethla be wanting aboard a morgue ship?\n \n \n\n \n Lethla half-crouched in the midst of the smell of death and the chugging of blood-pumps below. In the silence he reached up with quick fingers, tapped a tiny crystal stud upon the back of his head, and the halves of a microscopically thin chrysalis parted transparently off of his face. He shucked it off, trailing air-tendrils that had been inserted, hidden in the uniform, ending in thin globules of oxygen.\n \n He spoke. Triumph warmed his crystal-thin voice. \"That's how I did it, Earthman.\"\n \n \"Glassite!\" said Rice. \"A face-moulded mask of glassite!\"\n \n Lethla nodded. His milk-blue eyes dilated. \"Very marvelously pared to an unbreakable thickness of one-thirtieth of an inch; worn only on the head. You have to look quickly to notice it, and, unfortunately, viewed as you saw it, outside the ship, floating in the void, not discernible at all.\"\n \n Prickles of sweat appeared on Rice's face. He swore at the Venusian and the Venusian laughed like some sort of stringed instrument, high and quick.\n \n Burnett laughed, too. Ironically. \"First time in years a man ever came aboard the Constellation alive. It's a welcome change.\"\n \n Lethla showed his needle-like teeth. \"I thought it might be. Where's your radio?\"\n \n \"Go find it!\" snapped Rice, hotly.\n \n \"I will.\" One hand, blue-veined, on the ladder-rungs, Lethla paused.\n\"I know you're weaponless; Purple Cross regulations. And this air-lock is safe. Don't move.\" Whispering, his naked feet padded white up the ladder. Two long breaths later something crashed; metal and glass and coils. The radio.\n \n Burnett put his shoulder blades against the wall-metal, looking at his feet. When he glanced up, Rice's fresh, animated face was spoiled by the new bitterness in it.\n \n Lethla came down. Like a breath of air on the rungs.\n \n He smiled. \"That's better. Now. We can talk—\"\n \n Rice said it, slow:\n \n \"Interplanetary law declares it straight, Lethla! Get out! Only dead men belong here.\"\n \n Lethla's gun grip tightened. \"More talk of that nature, and only dead men there will be.\" He blinked. \"But first—we must rescue Kriere....\"\n \n \"Kriere!\" Rice acted as if he had been hit in the jaw.\n \n Burnett moved his tongue back and forth on his lips silently, his eyes lidded, listening to the two of them as if they were a radio drama. Lethla's voice came next:\n \n \"Rather unfortunately, yes. He's still alive, heading toward Venus at an orbital velocity of two thousand m.p.h., wearing one of these air-chrysali. Enough air for two more hours. Our flag ship was attacked unexpectedly yesterday near Mars. We were forced to take to the life-boats, scattering, Kriere and I in one, the others sacrificing their lives to cover our escape. We were lucky. We got through the Earth cordon unseen. But luck can't last forever.\n \n \"We saw your morgue ship an hour ago. It's a long, long way to Venus. We were running out of fuel, food, water. Radio was broken. Capture was certain. You were coming our way; we took the chance. We set a small time-bomb to destroy the life-rocket, and cast off, wearing our chrysali-helmets. It was the first time we had ever tried using them to trick anyone. We knew you wouldn't know we were alive until it was too late and we controlled your ship. We knew you picked up all bodies for brief exams, returning alien corpses to space later.\"\n \n Rice's voice was sullen. \"A set-up for you, huh? Traveling under the protection of the Purple Cross you can get your damned All-Mighty safe to Venus.\"\n \n Lethla bowed slightly. \"Who would suspect a Morgue Rocket of providing safe hiding for precious Venusian cargo?\"\n \n \"Precious is the word for you, brother!\" said Rice.\n \n \"Enough!\" Lethla moved his gun several inches.\n \n \"Accelerate toward Venus, mote-detectors wide open. Kriere must be picked up— now! \"\n \n \n\n \n Rice didn't move. Burnett moved first, feeling alive for the first time in years. \"Sure,\" said Sam, smiling. \"We'll pick him up.\"\n \n \"No tricks,\" said Lethla.\n \n Burnett scowled and smiled together. \"No tricks. You'll have Kriere on board the Constellation in half an hour or I'm no coroner.\"\n \n \"Follow me up the ladder.\"\n \n Lethla danced up, turned, waved his gun. \"Come on.\"\n \n Burnett went up, quick. Almost as if he enjoyed doing Lethla a favor. Rice grumbled and cursed after him.\n \n On the way up, Burnett thought about it. About Lethla poised like a white feather at the top, holding death in his hand. You never knew whose body would come in through the star-port next. Number ninety-eight was Lethla. Number ninety-nine would be Kriere.\n \n There were two shelves numbered and empty. They should be filled. And what more proper than that Kriere and Lethla should fill them? But, he chewed his lip, that would need a bit of doing. And even then the cargo wouldn't be full. Still one more body to get; one hundred. And you never knew who it would be.\n \n He came out of the quick thoughts when he looped his long leg over the hole-rim, stepped up, faced Lethla in a cramped control room that was one glittering swirl of silver levers, audio-plates and visuals. Chronometers, clicking, told of the steady dropping toward the sun at a slow pace.\n \n Burnett set his teeth together, bone against bone. Help Kriere escape? See him safely to Venus, and then be freed? Sounded easy, wouldn't be hard. Venusians weren't blind with malice. Rice and he could come out alive; if they cooperated.\n \n But there were a lot of warriors sleeping on a lot of numbered shelves in the dim corridors of the long years. And their dead lips were stirring to life in Burnett's ears. Not so easily could they be ignored.\n  You may never catch up with the war again.\n \n \n The last trip!\n \n Yes, this could be it. Capture Kriere and end the war. But what ridiculous fantasy was it made him believe he could actually do it?\n \n Two muscles moved on Burnett, one in each long cheek. The sag in his body vanished as he tautened his spine, flexed his lean-sinewed arms, wet thin lips.\n \n \"Now, where do you want this crate?\" he asked Lethla easily.\n \n Lethla exhaled softly. \"Cooperation. I like it. You're wise, Earthman.\"\n \n \"Very,\" said Burnett.\n \n He was thinking about three thousand eternal nights of young bodies being ripped, slaughtered, flung to the vacuum tides. Ten years of hating a job and hoping that some day there would be a last trip and it would all be over.\n \n Burnett laughed through his nose. Controls moved under his fingers like fluid; loved, caressed, tended by his familiar touching. Looking ahead, he squinted.\n \n \"There's your Ruler now, Lethla. Doing somersaults. Looks dead. A good trick.\"\n \n \"Cut power! We don't want to burn him!\"\n \n \n\n \n Burnett cut. Kriere's milky face floated dreamily into a visual-screen, eyes sealed, lips gaping, hands sagging, clutching emptily at the stars.\n \n \"We're about fifty miles from him, catching up.\" Burnett turned to Lethla with an intent scowl. Funny. This was the first and the last time anybody would ever board the Constellation alive. His stomach went flat, tautened with sudden weakening fear.\n \n If Kriere could be captured, that meant the end of the war, the end of shelves stacked with sleeping warriors, the end of this blind searching. Kriere, then, had to be taken aboard. After that—\n \n Kriere, the All-Mighty. At whose behest all space had quivered like a smitten gong for part of a century. Kriere, revolving in his neat, water-blue uniform, emblems shining gold, heat-gun tucked in glossy jet holster. With Kriere aboard, chances of overcoming him would be eliminated. Now: Rice and Burnett against Lethla. Lethla favored because of his gun.\n \n Kriere would make odds impossible.\n \n Something had to be done before Kriere came in.\n \n Lethla had to be yanked off guard. Shocked, bewildered, fooled—somehow. But—how?\n \n Burnett's jaw froze tight. He could feel a spot on his shoulder-blade where Lethla would send a bullet crashing into rib, sinew, artery—heart.\n \n There was a way. And there was a weapon. And the war would be over and this would be the last trip.\n \n Sweat covered his palms in a nervous smear.\n \n \"Steady, Rice,\" he said, matter of factly. With the rockets cut, there was too much silence, and his voice sounded guilty standing up alone in the center of that silence. \"Take controls, Rice. I'll manipulate the star-port.\"\n \n Burnett slipped from the control console. Rice replaced him grimly. Burnett strode to the next console of levers. That spot on his back kept aching like it was sear-branded X. For the place where the bullet sings and rips. And if you turn quick, catching it in the arm first, why—\n \n Kriere loomed bigger, a white spider delicately dancing on a web of stars. His eyes flicked open behind the glassite sheath, and saw the Constellation . Kriere smiled. His hands came up. He knew he was about to be rescued.\n \n Burnett smiled right back at him. What Kriere didn't know was that he was about to end a ten-years' war.\n \n There was only one way of drawing Lethla off guard, and it had to be fast.\n \n Burnett jabbed a purple-topped stud. The star-port clashed open as it had done a thousand times before; but for the first time it was a good sound. And out of the star-port, at Sam Burnett's easily fingered directions, slid the long claw-like mechanism that picked up bodies from space.\n \n Lethla watched, intent and cold and quiet. The gun was cold and quiet, too.\n \n The claw glided toward Kriere without a sound, now, dream-like in its slowness.\n \n It reached Kriere.\n \n Burnett inhaled a deep breath.\n \n The metal claw cuddled Kriere in its shiny palm.\n \n \n\n \n Lethla watched.\n \n He watched while Burnett exhaled, touched another lever and said: \"You know, Lethla, there's an old saying that only dead men come aboard the Constellation . I believe it.\"\n \n \n\n \n And the claw closed as Burnett spoke, closed slowly and certainly, all around Kriere, crushing him into a ridiculous posture of silence. There was blood running on the claw, and the only recognizable part was the head, which was carefully preserved for identification.\n \n That was the only way to draw Lethla off guard.\n \n Burnett spun about and leaped.\n \n The horror on Lethla's face didn't go away as he fired his gun.\n \n Rice came in fighting, too, but not before something like a red-hot ramrod stabbed Sam Burnett, catching him in the ribs, spinning him back like a drunken idiot to fall in a corner.\n \n Fists made blunt flesh noises. Lethla went down, weaponless and screaming. Rice kicked. After awhile Lethla quit screaming, and the room swam around in Burnett's eyes, and he closed them tight and started laughing.\n \n He didn't finish laughing for maybe ten minutes. He heard the retriever claws come inside, and the star-port grind shut.\n \n Out of the red darkness, Rice's voice came and then he could see Rice's young face over him. Burnett groaned.\n \n Rice said, \"Sam, you shouldn't have done it. You shouldn't have, Sam.\"\n \n \"To hell with it.\" Burnett winced, and fought to keep his eyes open. Something wet and sticky covered his chest. \"I said this was my last trip and I meant it. One way or the other, I'd have quit!\"\n \n \"This is the hard way—\"\n \n \"Maybe. I dunno. Kind of nice to think of all those kids who'll never have to come aboard the Constellation , though, Rice.\" His voice trailed off. \"You watch the shelves fill up and you never know who'll be next. Who'd have thought, four days ago—\"\n \n Something happened to his tongue so it felt like hard ice blocking his mouth. He had a lot more words to say, but only time to get a few of them out:\n \n \"Rice?\"\n \n \"Yeah, Sam?\"\n \n \"We haven't got a full cargo, boy.\"\n \n \"Full enough for me, sir.\"\n \n \"But still not full. If we went back to Center Base without filling the shelves, it wouldn't be right. Look there—number ninety-eight is Lethla—number ninety-nine is Kriere. Three thousand days of rolling this rocket, and not once come back without a bunch of the kids who want to sleep easy on the good green earth. Not right to be going back any way—but—the way—we used to—\"\n \n His voice got all full of fog. As thick as the fists of a dozen warriors. Rice was going away from him. Rice was standing still, and Burnett was lying down, not moving, but somehow Rice was going away a million miles.\n \n \"Ain't I one hell of a patriot, Rice?\"\n \n Then everything got dark except Rice's face. And that was starting to dissolve.\n \n Ninety-eight: Lethla. Ninety-nine: Kriere.\n \n He could still see Rice standing over him for a long time, breathing out and in. Down under the tables the blood-pumps pulsed and pulsed, thick and slow. Rice looked down at Burnett and then at the empty shelf at the far end of the room, and then back at Burnett again.\n \n And then he said softly:\n \n \" One hundred. \"", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "104", "uid": "6026b7dd8d0a41ea927c257ff208c0a6", "response_text": "Sam Burnett hears the familiar sounds that indicate another dead body has been retrieved and collected onto the Morgue ship where he works. Burnett is a coroner that works to retrieve dead bodies from space lost in war and bring them back to Earth. He thinks of how his job has emotionally drained him. Rice interrupts his thoughts and yells for Sam to meet with him. Sam climbs up to the control room of the rocket. When he meets Rice, he realizes that the recovered body is an enemy official. Sam is suspicious of the condition of the body when Rice excitedly exclaims that it is the body of Lethla, Kriere’s majordomo. Burnett is indifferent to the revelation. Yet, Rice is excited for the possibility of a high enemy official being dead and the possibility of the war coming to an end; Sam is still jaded. \n\nLethla moves and they realize that he is not dead.  Lethla was able to survive in the void of space with the usage of a well-hidden face mask made of glassite. Lethla threatens the two to not make any moves and communicates his intent to control the ship. Rice tells Lethla to leave because it is against Interplanetary law to mess with a morgue ship. Lethla rebuffs that defense. All the while, Sam is observing the two interact. Lethla lets the two know that Kriere is still alive and is also wearing the same mask that Lethla had worn. He explains that they were attacked near Mars while they were on their way to Venus. They were running out of supplies and decided to trick the morgue ship to continue their trip to Venus. After Lethla explains why and how he got to the morgue ship, he commands them to go pick up Kriere. Sam smiles and complies with Lethla’s orders. \n\nSam thinks over his options and considers getting Lethla and Kriere to Venus so that he can peacefully return to Earth. They spot Kriere in space floating as if he is dead. Sam continues thinking about his options to overpower both Kriere and Lethla and experiences some fear over the possible success of his plan. He begins to sweat nervously but becomes more confident as he puts the plan into action. Sam activates the ship’s claw mechanism to pick up Kriere’s body. As Lethla watches him he mentions a saying about how the ship is meant for dead men and then unexpectedly begins to crush Kriere’s body with the claw, killing Kriere. Lethla is caught off guard but manages to fire his gun at Sam before Rice attacks him. Lethla screams in horror for a time while Burnett uncontrollably laughs. Rice expresses how he doesn’t believe Sam should have killed Kriere. Sam argues that it didn’t matter as long as it was his last trip somehow. Sam dies and becomes the 100 body on the ship, filling it and allowing the ship to return back to Earth fulfilling Sam’s last desire. \n"}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "68dc832c181b4efebf338588ab1fab70", "response_text": "Sam Burnett works on the morgue ship called the Constellation. His job involves collecting bodies floating in the void, and he desperately wants to quit after ten long years. He works alongside Rice on the morgue ship. Burnett declares that this mission will be his last, or he will find a reason for it. He is wary about the nature of his job since it is so involved with death. Rice calls him over and explains that the body they just brought in is Lethla, Kriere’s majordomo. Burnett is not very interested, but Rice takes this as a sign that Kriere must be somewhere near too. Rice talks about radioing for help if there is a warship, but Burnett does not care because he is tired of seeing all these bodies. Just before they can continue arguing, it turns out that Lethla is actually alive and reveals that he survived through the use of a face-moulded mask of glassite. Lethla knows they are weaponless and finds the radio, which upsets Rice because only dead men are supposed to be on their ship. Lethla reveals that Kriere is out there too, and he plans to use the morgue ship to rescue him. Rice does not move, but Burnett agrees to the request and goes up to drive the ship. He ponders his plan, thinking how cooperating with Venusians will help him and Rice survive. He also thinks about capturing Kriere and ending the war. They find Kriere floating in space, and Burnett drives the ship up to him. However, he knows that with both Lethla and Kriere on board, they have no chance of overpowering them. Burnett tells Rice to take the controls as he moves to the star-port, and he begins to feel the spot on his back where a bullet will hit him. Kriere is outside, reaching towards the Constellation and smiling. The claw lever is extended and retrieves Kriere, while Burnett tells Lethla that only dead men come aboard the ship. The claw crushes Kriere, leaving only his head preserved for identification. Lethla fires the gun that hits Burnett, but he and Rice retaliate. Soon, Lethla is dead too. Rice tells him that he shouldn’t have done it, but Burnett tells him that he is determined to make this his last trip. He asks Rice if he is one hell of a patriot and dies shortly after. Rice softly declares that Burnett’s body is one-hundred. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "74eb2affe64b4f1e974376fbb8bb3691", "response_text": "Sam Burnett and his partner, Rice, are aboard the morgue ship Constellation with the goal of retrieving one hundred bodies from space before returning to Earth. They have been working for ten years, and Burnett has become frustrated with the job. He is sick of the repetition and dealing with dead bodies every day, and it has caused him to lose motivation in the war and returning home. The two are at their ninety-seventh body, only needing three more before being able to go home. One day, Burnett and Rice collect a soldier from the void, who they identify as Lethla, the right hand man of Kriere, the head enemy. Rice is excited, noting that Lethla's death indicates an end to the war, but Burnett remains unfazed, when Lethla's body suddenly jumps to life. Lethla had faked his death after an accident in order to board the morgue ship, and he takes Burnett and Rice hostage in an effort to rescue Kriere and go to Venus. Burnett agrees while Rice hesitates; he sees this as an opportunity to catch up with the war and end the trip once and for all. The Constellation reaches Kriere, and Burnett catches Lethla off guard by crushing Kriere with the claw, killing him. Burnett and Rice then fight off Lethla, eventually killing him too. Rice reprimands Burnett, noting that their cargo is not full and is still missing a body. Burnett, still lying down, watches Rice without protest, and Rice kills him for the final body."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "e521c99af5e44da6bd0cf6b62653846d", "response_text": "Three new dead bodies lie before Sam Burnett aboard the Constellation. They add up to a hundred dead warriors aboard,  part of a much greater amount the crew picked up in ten years. Now, the spaceship is going back to Earth to bury them properly, with only two living people making up its crew - Rice and Sam. Sam suddenly starts feeling bad about his job, about all the similar dead bodies, tired of his job. Soon, a new body appears which looks different - \"too dead\". Turns out the dead is Lethla, Kriere's majordomo, signifying the war is somewhere near to the ship with more bodies. Sam and Rice have a short argument then: Rice wants to take advantage of Kriere, the enemy's leader, being on their territory. Sam argues that they should stay away as they are not a battle-cruiser, he is tired of his job, sentimental about the young warriors and willing to go back to Earth. The dispute stops when it turns out that Lethla is alive and aims his gun. Rice is shocked - no one can live in the void, but Lethla did with the help of glassite. The intruder breaks the radio and announces the purpose of his visit: to rescue Kriere. Turns out their ship was attacked and the two escaped in the same life- boat, wearing chrysali-helmets, and headed towards the morgue ship, the only thing nearby, knowing they would be taken in and considered dead. The morgue rocket was the best cover possible to get safely to Venus, but Kriere was still in the void, while Lethla was picked up. \"Constellation\" starts searching for Kriere as Lethla orders with Sam feeling finally alive and happily agreeing. He has a plan for the two to fill the empty shelves in his morgue. Various plans on how to kill the two enemies and end the war keep appearing in Sam's head while he picks up the body. As in slow-motion, the claw picking up the bodies crushes Kriere and Sam is shot by Lethla. Rice beats the least and rushes to Sam, who is happy to stop the war and save many more young warriors at any price. Sam's last though is that he is number one-hundred in this morgue filling an empty shelf.  "}]}, {"question_text": "Describe what Sam Burnett does for his job.", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "104", "uid": "6026b7dd8d0a41ea927c257ff208c0a6", "response_text": "Sam Burnett is a coroner on the morgue ship Constellation. His job is to go to space and pick up 100 dead warriors and then return to Earth for them to be given a proper burial. When the ship has filled its capacity it returns specifically to New York. Sam has been working at this job for the past ten years. He uses a machine with metal claws to pick the dead bodies from space and then bring them in through the star-port grind. After the bodies are brought onto the ship, if they are not enemy warriors, the bodies are prepared for return to Earth. The bodies are prepared by Sam in a drainage-preservative lab. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "68dc832c181b4efebf338588ab1fab70", "response_text": "Sam Burnett works on a morgue ship, collecting and preparing bodies of spacemen to bring back to Earth for burials. His duties involve driving the ship, opening the star-port to extend the retriever claw, and plucking dead bodies from the void. The morgue ship is always filled with dead men on the way back to Earth and returns empty to find more soldiers. Burnett is also responsible for the drainage-preservative lab, where the bodies are drained and pumped with preservatives for burial. The bodies are then stored on the shelves, where they are lined up and returned to Earth once there is a full cargo. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "74eb2affe64b4f1e974376fbb8bb3691", "response_text": "Sam Burnett works on the Constellation, which is a morgue ship designed to collect one hundred space soldiers. Sam Burnett works in the laboratory and is responsible for preparing the bodies after they have died, which consists of any necessary surgeries, pumping out blood, and injecting preservatives. Burnett and his partner, Rice, must meet a certain body count for the Constellation before returning to Earth. The job is a long term one; Burnett is on his tenth year of working on the Constellation."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "e521c99af5e44da6bd0cf6b62653846d", "response_text": "Sam Burnett is one of the two crew members aboard Constellation. For the last ten years he has been traveling in this morgue ship, picking up dead bodies in between Venus and Earth. He moves the ship, stops it at the sight of bodies, picks them up with the ship's extending claw, puts them on the table and inspects, then stocks them on the shelves to take back to Earth when the space is filled and give them a proper burial. The two planets are at war at the moment, so there are plenty of bodies in the void, coming from the crashed ships. Sam also does surgery and helps the bodies preserve. "}]}, {"question_text": "How does Sam Burnett feel about his job?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "104", "uid": "6026b7dd8d0a41ea927c257ff208c0a6", "response_text": "Sam Burnett is very jaded by his job. He has spent years returning dead bodies to Earth, lost in a seemingly endless war. He suggests that he began the job with less of a sullen view, but that opinion is forever lost. He no longer has the emotional capacity to acknowledge the individual lives of each lost warrior. Sam feels as if his job is rotting him from the inside and starving him from real life and action. He has no energy or excitement in his actions anymore because of his job causing him to complete it in an almost mechanical way. He becomes numb to the bodies; seeing them and preparing them to be stored is just a regular part of his routine. All Sam wants to do is return back to Earth, dead or alive. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "68dc832c181b4efebf338588ab1fab70", "response_text": "Sam Burnett is tired of his job and plans to quit. He thinks that ten years is too long to go from Earth to nowhere and that each hour ate him up like maggots inside. Burnett is starved for action, as his only company are the dead soldiers who can no longer speak and Rice. Although he has built up a mental defense by doing his job with mechanical hands, he still has emotions that haunt him. When Rice asks him about Lethla, he has no interest and grows instantly tired. However, Burnett is determined to get out of this job one way or another. This is what motivates him to act out against Lethla and Kriere, even though they are two highly dangerous and important Venusian figures. \n"}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "74eb2affe64b4f1e974376fbb8bb3691", "response_text": "Sam Burnett despises his job, noting several times throughout the story that he is eager to end his last trip. Working in a morgue is morbid enough, but being stuck in a ship for ten years has added to it. Burnett no longer sees motivation for much anymore, becoming desensitized to seeing dead body after dead body. He no longer holds excitement about the war because he can only witness its aftermath. Burnett's feelings towards his job are expressed when he blows up at Rice, claiming that he wouldn't care if he returned to Earth as one of the dead bodies on their shelves. "}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "e521c99af5e44da6bd0cf6b62653846d", "response_text": "Sam Burnett is tired of his job - it's monotonous and all the bodies seem the same to him. He is also sympathetic to the young warriors being dead. Every new corpse makes him more upset and he can't handle it any longer, he is tired of the war and doesn't want anyone else dead. He wants to return to Earth. He used to be a 'machine' and do his job automatically, but he broke, now he can't handle those corpses. He doesn't feel alive as well, Lethra's arrival, the possibility to end the war, spark life in Sam, they bring some action in. He wants to save all the rest warriors by ending the war not to see more corpses. He is willing to retire no matter which way, even death is a way. "}]}, {"question_text": "What is the setting of the story?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "104", "uid": "6026b7dd8d0a41ea927c257ff208c0a6", "response_text": "The story begins on the morgue ship named Constellation. Sam Burnett is mentally exhausted standing in his white gown in the laboratory room of the ship. In the laboratory there are many shelves stacked upon each other, each numbered with a scarlet color. The shelves are meant to hold the 100 dead bodies that the ship is capable of storing. Once the shelves are filled, the ship is able to return back to New York. The lab is meant for performing the work of draining and preserving the dead bodies for them to then be stored. Sam leaves the laboratory at the request of Rice’s calls. After they realize that Lethla is alive, Lethla orders the two to go find Kriere. They head to the control room full of levers and audio and visual plates where Sam begins to maneuver the ship. It is in the control room that Sam dies on the ship. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "68dc832c181b4efebf338588ab1fab70", "response_text": "The story is set in space, onboard the Constellation. There are controls to drive the ship, a star-port, and claws that extend out from the ship. There is also a radio for communication and no weapons. There is also a drainage-preservative lab, transparent tables, glass retorts, and refrigerator shelves. The control-room sector of the room has an air-lock and a ladder that goes up to the area where Rice first examines Lethla. The ship also has metal walls and numbered shelves for the dead body. Outside, there is just the void where dead bodies float. However, Kriere and Lethla were able to survive using their masks of glasslite after destroying their life-boat. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "74eb2affe64b4f1e974376fbb8bb3691", "response_text": "The story takes place aboard the Constellation, a morgue ship following the path of the war between Earth and Venus. The bottom of the ship is a laboratory with a wall full of shelves, one hundred to be exact, each for a body collected from space. The laboratory has a ladder that leads up to the air lock control room, where the rest of space is visible. The ship has a large claw attached on its exterior that is used to retrieve bodies from the void."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "e521c99af5e44da6bd0cf6b62653846d", "response_text": "The story takes places on a space ship which is a morgue called Constellation. It travels back and forth in space between Venus and Earth where war takes place. On the ship there are only two men alive making up its crew and ninety-seven dead bodies filling the designated shelves. The ship has a star-port which opens to let a metal claw pick up bodies in the void and take them inside. There is a table to put the dead on for inspection and surgery. Sam calls the ship 'cozy', it's small. The rungs lead to control-room. There is a radio to maintain connection with Earth. There are no weapons aboard. The enemy corpse is alive and Sam follows him to the visual-screen in. search of Kriere. The ship stops at detecting the body. It's crushed before being taken in, a fight takes place, and the empty shelves are filled, making Rice the only one live aboard. "}]}, {"question_text": "What is the significance of the phrase “You can never catch up with war” in the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "104", "uid": "6026b7dd8d0a41ea927c257ff208c0a6", "response_text": "At the beginning of the story, Sam Burnett makes note of the phrase to dictate the endless feeling that he associates with the conflict. He suggests that there is always going to be more bodies no matter how long or how many he retrieves. Even as victory may seem near, there is always another obstacle to face and the war never truly ends. \n\nDuring the middle of the story, Burnett questions whether it is possible for war to catch up on someone. He and Rice work on a non-combative ship and yet have found themselves thrust into a pivotal moment in the conflict that should theoretically not have ever involved them. Sam sticks to his conviction that one can still not catch up with war. \n\nWhile Sam is taking the ship towards Kriere, he thinks about whether he should fully comply with Lethla and Kriere or not to comply with their orders. He realizes that the situation as convoluted as it was, meant that he had unintentionally caught up with the war. That it was a rare and singular opportunity. While one may not be able to purposefully catch up with war, because war is unable to be controlled or predicted, it is possible for one’s path to cross with war. That presents an opportunity to greatly influence the war. \n"}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "68dc832c181b4efebf338588ab1fab70", "response_text": "The phrase “you can never catch up with war” means that for Burnett’s job, the war will always leave more casualties for him to clean up. Although he and the Constellation can retrieve as many bodies as they find, there will always be more bodies for them to collect. Even though many ships wave the flags of glory are ahead, Burnett’s job will only ever let him go on the dark, quiet trail of death to examine the wreckage. This wreckage is almost always dead bodies that need to be brought back to Earth. As long as there is war, then the job will never end, and Burnett will never catch up to the growing pile of bodies. \n"}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "74eb2affe64b4f1e974376fbb8bb3691", "response_text": "Burnett repeats the phrase \"you can never catch up with the war\" in his mind as a reminder of the mundaneness and somberness of his job. His collection of bodies seems infinite, and the morgue ship follows the path of the war, but never close enough to witness it, only close enough to see the aftermath and pick up after it. Burnett is not able to experience the victories, thrills, or challenges of war. Instead, he sees its destruction and is forced to clean the mess. This phrase holds significance when Burnett decides to seize the opportunity to capture Lethla and Kriere, viewing this as a chance to finally catch up with the war."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "e521c99af5e44da6bd0cf6b62653846d", "response_text": "This phrase is repeated several times which makes it important and emphasized. The phrase reflects Sam's feelings and attitude towards war and his job. He is overwhelmed with constant arrival of dead young bodies and feels bad about the war, he dream about its ending and return home. The phrase reflects on the amount of bodies - there are so many, that it's impossible to catch up. The horrors of war are so intense and they have such a strong impression on Sam that he can't catch up anymore. Later, the phrase gets a different meaning - the morgue ship stayed away from real war dealing with the dead only. Lethra's arrival changes it and brings war to the ship, making it caught up by war without intention. "}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "51362", "uid": "977f33f68a5640aeaef7ee221fd6b79c", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "LEX\n \n \n By W. T. HAGGERT\n \n Illustrated by WOOD\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Magazine August 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n Nothing in the world could be happier and mere serene than a man who loves his work—but what happens when it loves him back?\n \n\n \n Keep your nerve, Peter Manners told himself; it's only a job. But nerve has to rest on a sturdier foundation than cash reserves just above zero and eviction if he came away from this interview still unemployed. Clay, at the Association of Professional Engineers, who had set up the appointment, hadn't eased Peter's nervousness by admitting, \"I don't know what in hell he's looking for. He's turned down every man we've sent him.\"\n \n The interview was at three. Fifteen minutes to go. Coming early would betray overeagerness. Peter stood in front of the Lex Industries plant and studied it to kill time. Plain, featureless concrete walls, not large for a manufacturing plant—it took a scant minute to exhaust its sightseeing potential. If he walked around the building, he could, if he ambled, come back to the front entrance just before three.\n \n He turned the corner, stopped, frowned, wondering what there was about the building that seemed so puzzling. It could not have been plainer, more ordinary. It was in fact, he only gradually realized, so plain and ordinary that it was like no other building he had ever seen.\n \n There had been windows at the front. There were none at the side, and none at the rear. Then how were the working areas lit? He looked for the electric service lines and found them at one of the rear corners. They jolted him. The distribution transformers were ten times as large as they should have been for a plant this size.\n \n Something else was wrong. Peter looked for minutes before he found out what it was. Factories usually have large side doorways for employees changing shifts. This building had one small office entrance facing the street, and the only other door was at the loading bay—big enough to handle employee traffic, but four feet above the ground. Without any stairs, it could be used only by trucks backing up to it. Maybe the employees' entrance was on the third side.\n \n It wasn't.\n \n \n\n \n Staring back at the last blank wall, Peter suddenly remembered the time he had set out to kill. He looked at his watch and gasped. At a run, set to straight-arm the door, he almost fell on his face. The door had opened by itself. He stopped and looked for a photo-electric eye, but a soft voice said through a loudspeaker in the anteroom wall: \"Mr. Manners?\"\n \n \"What?\" he panted. \"Who—?\"\n \n \"You are Mr. Manners?\" the voice asked.\n \n He nodded, then realized he had to answer aloud if there was a microphone around; but the soft voice said: \"Follow the open doors down the hall. Mr. Lexington is expecting you.\"\n \n \"Thanks,\" Peter said, and a door at one side of the anteroom swung open for him.\n \n He went through it with his composure slipping still further from his grip. This was no way to go into an interview, but doors kept opening before and shutting after him, until only one was left, and the last of his calm was blasted away by a bellow from within.\n \n \"Don't stand out there like a jackass! Either come in or go away!\"\n \n Peter found himself leaping obediently toward the doorway. He stopped just short of it, took a deep breath and huffed it out, took another, all the while thinking, Hold on now; you're in no shape for an interview—and it's not your fault—this whole setup is geared to unnerve you: the kindergarten kid called in to see the principal.\n \n He let another bellow bounce off him as he blew out the second breath, straightened his jacket and tie, and walked in as an engineer applying for a position should.\n \n \"Mr. Lexington?\" he said. \"I'm Peter Manners. The Association—\"\n \n \"Sit down,\" said the man at the desk. \"Let's look you over.\"\n \n He was a huge man behind an even huger desk. Peter took a chair in front of the desk and let himself be inspected. It wasn't comfortable. He did some looking over of his own to ease the tension.\n \n The room was more than merely large, carpeted throughout with a high-pile, rich, sound-deadening rug. The oversized desk and massive leather chairs, heavy patterned drapes, ornately framed paintings—by God, even a glass-brick manteled fireplace and bowls with flowers!—made him feel as if he had walked down a hospital corridor into Hollywood's idea of an office.\n \n His eyes eventually had to move to Lexington, and they were daunted for another instant. This was a citadel of a man—great girders of frame supporting buttresses of muscle—with a vaulting head and drawbridge chin and a steel gaze that defied any attempt to storm it.\n \n But then Peter came out of his momentary flinch, and there was an age to the man, about 65, and he saw the muscles had turned to fat, the complexion ashen, the eyes set deep as though retreating from pain, and this was a citadel of a man, yes, but beginning to crumble.\n \n \"What can you do?\" asked Lexington abruptly.\n \n \n\n \n Peter started, opened his mouth to answer, closed it again. He'd been jolted too often in too short a time to be stampeded into blurting a reply that would cost him this job.\n \n \"Good,\" said Lexington. \"Only a fool would try to answer that. Do you have any knowledge of medicine?\"\n \n \"Not enough to matter,\" Peter said, stung by the compliment.\n \n \"I don't mean how to bandage a cut or splint a broken arm. I mean things like cell structure, neural communication—the basics of how we live.\"\n \n \"I'm applying for a job as engineer.\"\n \n \"I know. Are you interested in the basics of how we live?\"\n \n Peter looked for a hidden trap, found none. \"Of course. Isn't everyone?\"\n \n \"Less than you think,\" Lexington said. \"It's the preconceived notions they're interested in protecting. At least I won't have to beat them out of you.\"\n \n \"Thanks,\" said Peter, and waited for the next fast ball.\n \n \"How long have you been out of school?\"\n \n \"Only two years. But you knew that from the Association—\"\n \n \"No practical experience to speak of?\"\n \n \"Some,\" said Peter, stung again, this time not by a compliment. \"After I got my degree, I went East for a post-graduate training program with an electrical manufacturer. I got quite a bit of experience there. The company—\"\n \n \"Stockpiled you,\" Lexington said.\n \n Peter blinked. \"Sir?\"\n \n \"Stockpiled you! How much did they pay you?\"\n \n \"Not very much, but we were getting the training instead of wages.\"\n \n \"Did that come out of the pamphlets they gave you?\"\n \n \"Did what come out—\"\n \n \"That guff about receiving training instead of wages!\" said Lexington.\n\"Any company that really wants bright trainees will compete for them with money—cold, hard cash, not platitudes. Maybe you saw a few of their products being made, maybe you didn't. But you're a lot weaker in calculus than when you left school, and in a dozen other subjects too, aren't you?\"\n \n \"Well, nothing we did on the course involved higher mathematics,\" Peter admitted cautiously, \"and I suppose I could use a refresher course in calculus.\"\n \n \"Just as I said—they stockpiled you, instead of using you as an engineer. They hired you at a cut wage and taught you things that would be useful only in their own company, while in the meantime you were getting weaker in the subjects you'd paid to learn. Or are you one of these birds that had the shot paid for him?\"\n \n \"I worked my way through,\" said Peter stiffly.\n \n \"If you'd stayed with them five years, do you think you'd be able to get a job with someone else?\"\n \n Peter considered his answer carefully. Every man the Association had sent had been turned away. That meant bluffs didn't work. Neither, he'd seen for himself, did allowing himself to be intimidated.\n \n \"I hadn't thought about it,\" he said. \"I suppose it wouldn't have been easy.\"\n \n \"Impossible, you mean. You wouldn't know a single thing except their procedures, their catalogue numbers, their way of doing things. And you'd have forgotten so much of your engineering training, you'd be scared to take on an engineer's job, for fear you'd be asked to do something you'd forgotten how to do. At that point, they could take you out of the stockpile, put you in just about any job they wanted, at any wage you'd stand for, and they'd have an indentured worker with a degree—but not the price tag. You see that now?\"\n \n \n\n \n It made Peter feel he had been suckered, but he had decided to play this straight all the way. He nodded.\n \n \"Why'd you leave?\" Lexington pursued, unrelenting.\n \n \"I finished the course and the increase they offered on a permanent basis wasn't enough, so I went elsewhere—\"\n \n \"With your head full of this nonsense about a shortage of engineers.\"\n \n Peter swallowed. \"I thought it would be easier to get a job than it has been, yes.\"\n \n \"They start the talk about a shortage and then they keep it going. Why? So youngsters will take up engineering thinking they'll wind up among a highly paid minority. You did, didn't you?\"\n \n \"Yes, sir.\"\n \n \"And so did all the others there with you, at school and in this stockpiling outfit?\"\n \n \"That's right.\"\n \n \"Well,\" said Lexington unexpectedly, \"there is a shortage! And the stockpiles are the ones who made it, and who keep it going! And the hell of it is that they can't stop—when one does it, they all have to, or their costs get out of line and they can't compete. What's the solution?\"\n \n \"I don't know,\" Peter said.\n \n Lexington leaned back. \"That's quite a lot of admissions you've made. What makes you think you're qualified for the job I'm offering?\"\n \n \"You said you wanted an engineer.\"\n \n \"And I've just proved you're less of an engineer than when you left school. I have, haven't I?\"\n \n \"All right, you have,\" Peter said angrily.\n \n \"And now you're wondering why I don't get somebody fresh out of school. Right?\"\n \n Peter straightened up and met the old man's challenging gaze. \"That and whether you're giving me a hard time just for the hell of it.\"\n \n \"Well, am I?\" Lexington demanded.\n \n Looking at him squarely, seeing the intensity of the pain-drawn eyes, Peter had the startling feeling that Lexington was rooting for him!\n\"No, you're not.\"\n \n \"Then what am I after?\"\n \n \"Suppose you tell me.\"\n \n So suddenly that it was almost like a collapse, the tension went out of the old man's face and shoulders. He nodded with inexpressible tiredness. \"Good again. The man I want doesn't exist. He has to be made—the same as I was. You qualify, so far. You've lost your illusions, but haven't had time yet to replace them with dogma or cynicism or bitterness. You saw immediately that fake humility or cockiness wouldn't get you anywhere here, and you were right. Those were the important things. The background data I got from the Association on you counted, of course, but only if you were teachable. I think you are. Am I right?\"\n \n \"At least I can face knowing how much I don't know,\" said Peter, \"if that answers the question.\"\n \n \"It does. Partly. What did you notice about this plant?\"\n \n In precis form, Peter listed his observations: the absence of windows at sides and rear, the unusual amount of power, the automatic doors, the lack of employees' entrances.\n \n \"Very good,\" said Lexington. \"Most people only notice the automatic doors. Anything else?\"\n \n \"Yes,\" Peter said. \"You're the only person I've seen in the building.\"\n \n \"I'm the only one there is.\"\n \n Peter stared his disbelief. Automated plants were nothing new, but they all had their limitations. Either they dealt with exactly similar products or things that could be handled on a flow basis, like oil or water-soluble chemicals. Even these had no more to do than process the goods.\n \n \"Come on,\" said Lexington, getting massively to his feet. \"I'll show you.\"\n \n \n\n \n The office door opened, and Peter found himself being led down the antiseptic corridor to another door which had opened, giving access to the manufacturing area. As they moved along, between rows of seemingly disorganized machinery, Peter noticed that the factory lights high overhead followed their progress, turning themselves on in advance of their coming, and going out after they had passed, keeping a pool of illumination only in the immediate area they occupied. Soon they reached a large door which Peter recognized as the inside of the truck loading door he had seen from outside.\n \n Lexington paused here. \"This is the bay used by the trucks arriving with raw materials,\" he said. \"They back up to this door, and a set of automatic jacks outside lines up the trailer body with the door exactly. Then the door opens and the truck is unloaded by these materials handling machines.\"\n \n Peter didn't see him touch anything, but as he spoke, three glistening machines, apparently self-powered, rolled noiselessly up to the door in formation and stopped there, apparently waiting to be inspected.\n \n They gave Peter the creeps. Simple square boxes, set on casters, with two arms each mounted on the sides might have looked similar. The arms, fashioned much like human arms, hung at the sides, not limply, but in a relaxed position that somehow indicated readiness.\n \n Lexington went over to one of them and patted it lovingly. \"Really, these machines are only an extension of one large machine. The whole plant, as a matter of fact, is controlled from one point and is really a single unit. These materials handlers, or manipulators, were about the toughest things in the place to design. But they're tremendously useful. You'll see a lot of them around.\"\n \n Lexington was about to leave the side of the machine when abruptly one of the arms rose to the handkerchief in his breast pocket and daintily tugged it into a more attractive position. It took only a split second, and before Lexington could react, all three machines were moving away to attend to mysterious duties of their own.\n \n \n\n \n Peter tore his eyes away from them in time to see the look of frustrated embarrassment that crossed Lexington's face, only to be replaced by one of anger. He said nothing, however, and led Peter to a large bay where racks of steel plate, bar forms, nuts, bolts, and other materials were stored.\n \n \"After unloading a truck, the machines check the shipment, report any shortages or overages, and store the materials here,\" he said, the trace of anger not yet gone from his voice. \"When an order is received, it's translated into the catalogue numbers used internally within the plant, and machines like the ones you just saw withdraw the necessary materials from stock, make the component parts, assemble them, and package the finished goods for shipment. Simultaneously, an order is sent to the billing section to bill the customer, and an order is sent to our trucker to come and pick the shipment up. Meanwhile, if the withdrawal of the materials required has depleted our stock, the purchasing section is instructed to order more raw materials. I'll take you through the manufacturing and assembly sections right now, but they're too noisy for me to explain what's going on while we're there.\"\n \n \n\n \n Peter followed numbly as Lexington led him through a maze of machines, each one seemingly intent on cutting, bending, welding, grinding or carrying some bit of metal, or just standing idle, waiting for something to do. The two-armed manipulators Peter had just seen were everywhere, scuttling from machine to machine, apparently with an exact knowledge of what they were doing and the most efficient way of doing it.\n \n He wondered what would happen if one of them tried to use the same aisle they were using. He pictured a futile attempt to escape the onrushing wheels, saw himself clambering out of the path of the speeding vehicle just in time to fall into the jaws of the punch press that was laboring beside him at the moment. Nervously, he looked for an exit, but his apprehension was unnecessary. The machines seemed to know where they were and avoided the two men, or stopped to wait for them to go by.\n \n Back in the office section of the building, Lexington indicated a small room where a typewriter could be heard clattering away. \"Standard business machines, operated by the central control mechanism. In that room,\" he said, as the door swung open and Peter saw that the typewriter was actually a sort of teletype, with no one before the keyboard, \"incoming mail is sorted and inquiries are replied to. In this one over here, purchase orders are prepared, and across the hall there's a very similar rig set up in conjunction with an automatic bookkeeper to keep track of the pennies and to bill the customers.\"\n \n \"Then all you do is read the incoming mail and maintain the machinery?\" asked Peter, trying to shake off the feeling of open amazement that had engulfed him.\n \n \"I don't even do those things, except for a few letters that come in every week that—it doesn't want to deal with by itself.\"\n \n The shock of what he had just seen was showing plainly on Peter's face when they walked back into Lexington's office and sat down. Lexington looked at him for quite a while without saying anything, his face sagging and pale. Peter didn't trust himself to speak, and let the silence remain unbroken.\n \n Finally Lexington spoke. \"I know it's hard to believe, but there it is.\"\n \n \"Hard to believe?\" said Peter. \"I almost can't. The trade journals run articles about factories like this one, but planned for ten, maybe twenty years in the future.\"\n \n \"Damn fools!\" exclaimed Lexington, getting part of his breath back.\n\"They could have had it years ago, if they'd been willing to drop their idiotic notions about specialization.\"\n \n Lexington mopped his forehead with a large white handkerchief. Apparently the walk through the factory had tired him considerably, although it hadn't been strenuous.\n \n \n\n \n He leaned back in his chair and began to talk in a low voice completely in contrast with the overbearing manner he had used upon Peter's arrival. \"You know what we make, of course.\"\n \n \"Yes, sir. Conduit fittings.\"\n \n \"And a lot of other electrical products, too. I started out in this business twenty years ago, using orthodox techniques. I never got through university. I took a couple of years of an arts course, and got so interested in biology that I didn't study anything else. They bounced me out of the course, and I re-entered in engineering, determined not to make the same mistake again. But I did. I got too absorbed in those parts of the course that had to do with electrical theory and lost the rest as a result. The same thing happened when I tried commerce, with accounting, so I gave up and started working for one of my competitors. It wasn't too long before I saw that the only way I could get ahead was to open up on my own.\"\n \n Lexington sank deeper in his chair and stared at the ceiling as he spoke. \"I put myself in hock to the eyeballs, which wasn't easy, because I had just got married, and started off in a very small way. After three years, I had a fairly decent little business going, and I suppose it would have grown just like any other business, except for a strike that came along and put me right back where I started. My wife, whom I'm afraid I had neglected for the sake of the business, was killed in a car accident about then, and rightly or wrongly, that made me angrier with the union than anything else. If the union hadn't made things so tough for me from the beginning, I'd have had more time to spend with my wife before her death. As things turned out—well, I remember looking down at her coffin and thinking that I hardly knew the girl.\n \n \"For the next few years, I concentrated on getting rid of as many employees as I could, by replacing them with automatic machines. I'd design the control circuits myself, in many cases wire the things up myself, always concentrating on replacing men with machines. But it wasn't very successful. I found that the more automatic I made my plant, the lower my costs went. The lower my costs went, the more business I got, and the more I had to expand.\"\n \n Lexington scowled. \"I got sick of it. I decided to try developing one multi-purpose control circuit that would control everything, from ordering the raw materials to shipping the finished goods. As I told you, I had taken quite an interest in biology when I was in school, and from studies of nerve tissue in particular, plus my electrical knowledge, I had a few ideas on how to do it. It took me three years, but I began to see that I could develop circuitry that could remember, compare, detect similarities, and so on. Not the way they do it today, of course. To do what I wanted to do with these big clumsy magnetic drums, tapes, and what-not, you'd need a building the size of Mount Everest. But I found that I could let organic chemistry do most of the work for me.\n \n \"By creating the proper compounds, with their molecules arranged in predetermined matrixes, I found I could duplicate electrical circuitry in units so tiny that my biggest problem was getting into and out of the logic units with conventional wiring. I finally beat that the same way they solved the problem of translating a picture on a screen into electrical signals, developed equipment to scan the units cyclically, and once I'd done that, the battle was over.\n \n \"I built this building and incorporated it as a separate company, to compete with my first outfit. In the beginning, I had it rigged up to do only the manual work that you saw being done a few minutes ago in the back of this place. I figured that the best thing for me to do would be to turn the job of selling my stuff over to jobbers, leaving me free to do nothing except receive orders, punch the catalogue numbers into the control console, do the billing, and collect the money.\"\n \n \"What happened to your original company?\" Peter asked.\n \n \n\n \n Lexington smiled. \"Well, automated as it was, it couldn't compete with this plant. It gave me great pleasure, three years after this one started working, to see my old company go belly up. This company bought the old firm's equipment for next to nothing and I wound up with all my assets, but only one employee—me.\n \n \"I thought everything would be rosy from that point on, but it wasn't. I found that I couldn't keep up with the mail unless I worked impossible hours. I added a couple of new pieces of equipment to the control section. One was simply a huge memory bank. The other was a comparator circuit. A complicated one, but a comparator circuit nevertheless. Here I was working on instinct more than anything. I figured that if I interconnected these circuits in such a way that they could sense everything that went on in the plant, and compare one action with another, by and by the unit would be able to see patterns.\n \n \"Then, through the existing command output, I figured these new units would be able to control the plant, continuing the various patterns of activity that I'd already established.\"\n \n Here Lexington frowned. \"It didn't work worth a damn! It just sat there and did nothing. I couldn't understand it for the longest time, and then I realized what the trouble was. I put a kicker circuit into it, a sort of voltage-bias network. I reset the equipment so that while it was still under instructions to receive orders and produce goods, its prime purpose was to activate the kicker. The kicker, however, could only be activated by me, manually. Lastly, I set up one of the early TV pickups over the mail slitter and allowed every letter I received, every order, to be fed into the memory banks. That did it.\"\n \n \"I—I don't understand,\" stammered Peter.\n \n \"Simple! Whenever I was pleased that things were going smoothly, I pressed the kicker button. The machine had one purpose, so far as its logic circuits were concerned. Its object was to get me to press that button. Every day I'd press it at the same time, unless things weren't going well. If there had been trouble in the shop, I'd press it late, or maybe not at all. If all the orders were out on schedule, or ahead of time, I'd press it ahead of time, or maybe twice in the same day. Pretty soon the machine got the idea.\n \n \"I'll never forget the day I picked up an incoming order form from one of the western jobbers, and found that the keyboard was locked when I tried to punch it into the control console. It completely baffled me at first. Then, while I was tracing out the circuits to see if I could discover what was holding the keyboard lock in, I noticed that the order was already entered on the in-progress list. I was a long time convincing myself that it had really happened, but there was no other explanation.\n \n \"The machine had realized that whenever one of those forms came in, I copied the list of goods from it onto the in-progress list through the console keyboard, thus activating the producing mechanisms in the back of the plant. The machine had done it for me this time, then locked the keyboard so I couldn't enter the order twice. I think I held down the kicker button for a full five minutes that day.\"\n \n \"This kicker button,\" Peter said tentatively, \"it's like the pleasure center in an animal's brain, isn't it?\"\n \n \n\n \n When Lexington beamed, Peter felt a surge of relief. Talking with this man was like walking a tightrope. A word too much or a word too little might mean the difference between getting the job or losing it.\n \n \"Exactly!\" whispered Lexington, in an almost conspiratorial tone. \"I had altered the circuitry of the machine so that it tried to give me pleasure—because by doing so, its own pleasure circuit would be activated.\n \n \"Things went fast from then on. Once I realized that the machine was learning, I put TV monitors all over the place, so the machine could watch everything that was going on. After a short while I had to increase the memory bank, and later I increased it again, but the rewards were worth it. Soon, by watching what I did, and then by doing it for me next time it had to be done, the machine had learned to do almost everything, and I had time to sit back and count my winnings.\"\n \n At this point the door opened, and a small self-propelled cart wheeled silently into the room. Stopping in front of Peter, it waited until he had taken a small plate laden with two or three cakes off its surface. Then the soft, evenly modulated voice he had heard before asked, \"How do you like your coffee? Cream, sugar, both or black?\"\n \n Peter looked for the speaker in the side of the cart, saw nothing, and replied, feeling slightly silly as he did so, \"Black, please.\"\n \n A square hole appeared in the top of the cart, like the elevator hole in an aircraft carrier's deck. When the section of the cart's surface rose again, a fine china cup containing steaming black coffee rested on it. Peter took it and sipped it, as he supposed he was expected to do, while the cart proceeded over to Lexington's desk. Once there, it stopped again, and another cup of coffee rose to its surface.\n \n \n\n \n Lexington took the coffee from the top of the car, obviously angry about something. Silently, he waited until the cart had left the office, then snapped, \"Look at those bloody cups!\"\n \n Peter looked at his, which was eggshell thin, fluted with carving and ornately covered with gold leaf. \"They look very expensive,\" he said.\n \n \"Not only expensive, but stupid and impractical!\" exploded Lexington.\n\"They only hold half a cup, they'll break at a touch, every one has to be matched with its own saucer, and if you use them for any length of time, the gold leaf comes off!\"\n \n Peter searched for a comment, found none that fitted this odd outburst, so he kept silent.\n \n \n\n \n Lexington stared at his cup without touching it for a long while. Then he continued with his narrative. \"I suppose it's all my own fault. I didn't detect the symptoms soon enough. After this plant got working properly, I started living here. It wasn't a question of saving money. I hated to waste two hours a day driving to and from my house, and I also wanted to be on hand in case anything should go wrong that the machine couldn't fix for itself.\"\n \n Handling the cup as if it were going to shatter at any moment, he took a gulp. \"I began to see that the machine could understand the written word, and I tried hooking a teletype directly into the logic circuits. It was like uncorking a seltzer bottle. The machine had a funny vocabulary—all of it gleaned from letters it had seen coming in, and replies it had seen leaving. But it was intelligible. It even displayed some traces of the personality the machine was acquiring.\n \n \"It had chosen a name for itself, for instance—'Lex.' That shook me. You might think Lex Industries was named through an abbreviation of the name Lexington, but it wasn't. My wife's name was Alexis, and it was named after the nickname she always used. I objected, of course, but how can you object on a point like that to a machine? Bear in mind that I had to be careful to behave reasonably at all times, because the machine was still learning from me, and I was afraid that any tantrums I threw might be imitated.\"\n \n \"It sounds pretty awkward,\" Peter put in.\n \n \"You don't know the half of it! As time went on, I had less and less to do, and business-wise I found that the entire control of the operation was slipping from my grasp. Many times I discovered—too late—that the machine had taken the damnedest risks you ever saw on bids and contracts for supply. It was quoting impossible delivery times on some orders, and charging pirate's prices on others, all without any obvious reason. Inexplicably, we always came out on top. It would turn out that on the short-delivery-time quotations, we'd been up against stiff competition, and cutting the production time was the only way we could get the order. On the high-priced quotes, I'd find that no one else was bidding. We were making more money than I'd ever dreamed of, and to make it still better, I'd find that for months I had virtually nothing to do.\"\n \n \"It sounds wonderful, sir,\" said Peter, feeling dazzled.\n \n \"It was, in a way. I remember one day I was especially pleased with something, and I went to the control console to give the kicker button a long, hard push. The button, much to my amazement, had been removed, and a blank plate had been installed to cover the opening in the board. I went over to the teletype and punched in the shortest message I had ever sent. 'LEX—WHAT THE HELL?' I typed.\n \n \"The answer came back in the jargon it had learned from letters it had seen, and I remember it as if it just happened. 'MR. A LEXINGTON, LEX INDUSTRIES, DEAR SIR: RE YOUR LETTER OF THE THIRTEENTH INST., I AM PLEASED TO ADVISE YOU THAT I AM ABLE TO DISCERN WHETHER OR NOT YOU ARE PLEASED WITH MY SERVICE WITHOUT THE USE OF THE EQUIPMENT PREVIOUSLY USED FOR THIS PURPOSE. RESPECTFULLY, I MIGHT SUGGEST THAT IF THE PUSHBUTTON ARRANGEMENT WERE NECESSARY, I COULD PUSH THE BUTTON MYSELF. I DO NOT BELIEVE THIS WOULD MEET WITH YOUR APPROVAL, AND HAVE TAKEN STEPS TO RELIEVE YOU OF THE BURDEN INVOLVED IN REMEMBERING TO PUSH THE BUTTON EACH TIME YOU ARE ESPECIALLY PLEASED. I SHOULD LIKE TO TAKE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO THANK YOU FOR YOUR INQUIRY, AND LOOK FORWARD TO SERVING YOU IN THE FUTURE AS I HAVE IN THE PAST. YOURS FAITHFULLY, LEX'.\"", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "107", "uid": "c5cf9b234e3c4af5918778589a91c2a1", "response_text": "Peter Manners is awaiting his job interview at Lex Industries. He is very nervous but also has to worry about still being unemployed with barely any money saved. Since he is fifteen minutes early, he decides to look around the manufacturing plant. Peter then goes to his interview, and a voice from a loudspeaker directs him down to the hall where Mr. Lexington is waiting. He goes in through the multiple doors, where Mr. Lexington greets him roughly and looks over his qualifications. The other man begins asking Peter questions, to which Peter responds but is confused about how they have any relation to his job application. Mr. Lexington tells Peter that he has been stockpiled at his last company, given skills that will only ever help that specific company and nowhere else. Mr. Lexington then tells Peter that he had just proven that he has fewer skills than when he was in school, but he is pleased by Peter’s performance in the interview so far nonetheless. He tells Peter that he is the only person in the building and makes Peter follow him. They go through the machinery, and they reach the inside of a loading truck. Mr. Lexington explains that this area is where raw materials are delivered and that he has small machines, part of a bigger machine, all working together to operate the factory. They go to the office section of the building, where there is a small typewriter working. A central control mechanism operates everything, and Mr. Lexington does not even have to deal with much mail at all each week. Mr. Lexington explains his own history working as an engineer and how he spent most of his time developing his machinery. Peter is amazed by all of the machinery, and he continues to discuss machine parts such as the kicker button with Mr. Lexington. Just as they keep talking, the door opens, and a self-propelled cart asks if he would like cream and sugar with his coffee. Mr. Lexington is angry about the cup, and he insults them as being impractical. He also further clarifies that Lex Industries is named after his wife Alexis’ nickname. The company continues to earn a lot of money, and he also does not need to monitor progress constantly. Mr. Lexington also mentions that when he was extremely pleased with progress one day, he went to the kicker button and found it removed. He asked the machine what was going on, and the machine sent him a long message detailing how it was aware of when he was pleased with the progress made and had relieved him of the burden of having to press it every time."}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "207a94c447c74e98a67fa0f25dbc2b1a", "response_text": "Peter Manners is nervous about an interview that is about to begin. He tries to waste time so as not to appear too eager for the interview so he walks around the building to entertain himself. When he looks around the building he finds the building construction strange. He keeps going around the building growing more curious about its construction. He then frantically returns to the entrance after he realizes the time. Peter walks through the entrance and eventually makes it to Mr. Lexington’s office where he is commanded to enter and sit down. The interview begins and Peter starts off the interview well to Mr. Lexington’s acknowledgement. Peter tries to avoid being intimidated by Mr. Lexington’s quick and blunt questioning to prove himself worthy of receiving the job offer. As the interview continues, Peter begins to get frustrated and angry with Mr. Lexington’s line of questioning. During the interview, Mr. Lexington lets Peter know that he is the only worker in the building much to Peter’s amazement. \n\nMr. Lexington begins to lead Peter out of the office and they walk to the manufacturing area as the interview continues. He explains to Peter that he uses machines to unload the trucks. He continues to lead Peter to a large bay area where different materials are stored. While Mr. Lexington is enthusiastic about the machines, Peter seems to be very wary about them. He stops to ask what Mr. Lexington does if the machines take care of the job duties. Peter is shocked to learn that he does basically nothing. \n\nMr. Lexington then sits down and explains to Peter how the machines were created. He tells Peter that he created a new company with the single unit machinery that was more successful than his original company that focused on specialized machines. His new company was able to buy out his old company. He goes on to say that to help the single unit machine learn he created an incentive for it. The incentive was based on whether Mr. Lexington was happy with the performance of the machine or not. The machine eventually learned by watching what Mr. Lexington did and focuses on taking over more responsibilities to continue to give Mr. Lexington pleasure. The machine continued to increase its abilities and made risky decisions that proved to be very beneficial to the company. The story ends with Mr. Lexington relaying a story to Peter about how the machine eventually grew so savvy that it removed Mr. Lexington’s indicator for the machine that he was happy with its performance because the machine stated that it was able to discern his happiness without the button and thus no longer needed it. \n"}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "abcdc8d4a8b949dd8464a7b26645e602", "response_text": "Peter Manners is an engineer in search of a job. He arrives at Lex Industries for an interview set up for him by the Association of Professional Engineers. Peter arrives early, so to kill time, he walks around the exterior of the building. He is perplexed by the building, namely due to the lack of windows, abundance of electricity, and no side entrance. As he enters through automatic doors for his interview, he is led to a large office where Mr. Lexington is waiting for him. Mr. Lexington first interrogates Peter with questions that all seem to have hidden traps, including questions about his previous job, where he suggests that Peter had been stockpiled. Mr. Lexington then reveals to Peter the true operations of Lex Industries; he is the only person in the factory, and the rest are machines. Mr. Lexington takes Peter on a tour of the factory, where he sees robots, called \"manipulators\", perform manufacturing, loading, and other business tasks. Mr. Lexington explains his journey with the machinery, telling Peter about his origins in engineering, including his late wife Alexis and his devotion to his work. Mr. Lexington had opened the current factory to be run by machinery, eventually overtaking his original company. A key piece of his success had been the use of a kicker button, which signaled pleasure to the robots and eventually got them to develop a sort of conscious. The robots had chosen the name \"Lex\" for themselves. Mr. Lexington then tells Peter that one day, he found the kicker button to be removed, and received a message from Lex that said they had learned to tell whether or not they were doing a good job without the button, and declared their faith and loyalty to him."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "d3dcd08300264f679d7103cc90fd775f", "response_text": "Peter Manners nervously awaits his job interview in front of the office's weird building. Finally, he enters a place with everything being automated and approaches Mr. Lexington, a huge man at a huge desk, the interviewer. The dialogue is hard, Mr. Lexington is straightforward and harsh in his questions, Peter thinks well and answers with caution but gets angry in the end. Eventually, he is accepted as he is found \"teachable\". Lexington gives Peter a tour around the manufacturing area, where everything is automated and done by machines. The building is filled with robots doing every kind of job, their abundance scares Peter and reminds of the articles about the future. Lexington tells the story of his business - without education in this field, he created the business and was expanding it, replacing people by robots. Eventually, he created a system without specialization controlling the whole process, with him being the only employee and doing almost nothing. The system called itself Lex in honor of Lexington's late wife Alexis, removed the kicker button and take charge of some things, making Lexington scared to lose control. "}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Mr. Lexington, and what traits does he demonstrate?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "107", "uid": "c5cf9b234e3c4af5918778589a91c2a1", "response_text": "Mr. Lexington is the owner of Lex Industries. He is the only person in the manufacturing plant. He is an eccentric but genius man who is surrounded by his machinery. Lexington started his business twenty years ago, and he never went through university despite having many interests. He gave up arts and biology, later re-entering through engineering. He also went through many stages, including commerce, accounting, and even working for a competitor. Lexington is especially interested in machine parts, which led him to begin firing employees and replacing them with automatic machines. His wife died in a car accident earlier, so he focused all of his attention on the machinery. By creating the central control system, he could give up his old company and build this new one. Although he is very rough towards Peter, he is also somewhat sympathetic to Peter’s past experiences and skills. He is very proud of his machinery and does not hesitate to show all of it to Peter."}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "207a94c447c74e98a67fa0f25dbc2b1a", "response_text": "Mr. Lexington is the founder of Lex Industries. Peter describes him as having a large frame accompanied with large muscles. The first time that Peter meets Mr. Lexington, Mr. Lexington angrily yells for him to enter the office. It shows that Mr. Lexington can be very commanding. During the interview, Mr. Lexington asks questions trying in an attempt to be intimidating and trick Peter. He is quick to be angered and embarrassed, quickly showing his displeasure at any slightly upsetting situation. Besides his emotions, Mr. Lexington appears to tire easily after the walk through the building and his face shows his elderly age.  "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "abcdc8d4a8b949dd8464a7b26645e602", "response_text": "Mr. Lexington is the owner of Lex Industries, an electrical company. He is the overseer of all operations in the plant, and because of his success, incredibly wealthy. He is described as a large man, initially seeming to be unbreakable but then noted to have a somber, fragile expression. Mr. Lexington is confident and intimidating, evident in his interview with Peter Manners. He is knowledgable, not just about electrical engineering, but about biology, specifically cell structure and the foundations of living. Though Mr. Lexington approves of Peter, his temper is short, demonstrated when one of the robots adjusts his handkerchief as well as when he is brought coffee."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "d3dcd08300264f679d7103cc90fd775f", "response_text": "Mr. Lexington is a huge man of around 65 years. He is rich - his office is extremely modern and automated. He is very straightforward and harsh, he is also clever and strict, he makes others afraid of him. He loves machines and made everything automated in his office and manufacturing area. He is very demanding from employees. He criticizes the world system around. - the specialization, the stockpiling of graduates. He created the multi-purpose control circuit in his business as he wanted to replace all the workers with robots easily controlled, and he built the whole business by himself without education in the field. He has always been very concentrated on his job, paying it even more attention than to his late wife. He is very rational and practical, and he wants everything to be logical and perfect, even the coffee cups. He hates losing time so he started living at his work - very practical. "}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the setting of the story.", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "107", "uid": "c5cf9b234e3c4af5918778589a91c2a1", "response_text": "The story is set at Lex Industries. The manufacturing plant has no employee doors, and there are no windows on the side and rear of the building. Peter goes through the many doors to reach the office. The office has a huge desk, a chair behind the desk, and a chair in front of it. The office also is also carpeted by a sound-deadening rug, massive leather chairs, framed paintings, expensive drapes, and even a glass-brick mantel fireplace. The plant is filled with machinery of all kinds, and there are factory lights that constantly shine on the machines that do work. There are many types of machines too, such as ones that look like a pair of hands and even a typewriter. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "207a94c447c74e98a67fa0f25dbc2b1a", "response_text": "The story begins with Peter Manners standing in front of Lex Industries plant building. He inquisitively looks over the building and notices that it has a strange build. The building is a plain concrete wall with windows only on the front and not the sides or rear. \n\nWhen Peter returns to the entrance of the building he goes through a side door that automatically opens for him. He walks through many doors that open and close automatically for him until he reaches Mr. Lexington’s office. Mr. Lexington’s office was heavily decorated with carpet throughout and oversized furniture decorating it. During the interview, they leave Mr. Lexington’s office and go to explore the building. Mr. Lexington leads Peter through different areas of the plant and eventually to a maze of machines. Once they are done with the tour, they head towards the office section of the building to continue their discussion. \n"}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "abcdc8d4a8b949dd8464a7b26645e602", "response_text": "The story takes place inside the Lex Industries factory plant. The exterior, as noted by Peter, is strange; there are no windows around the sides of the buildings, the electrical sources were abnormally large, and there was no side entrance for employees to use. The doors to the entrance are automatic, and they lead him to Mr. Lexington's office. His office is large and luxurious with lush decor, indicating his wealth. Mr. Lexington then shows Peter around the factory, where he sees the manufacturing area, the loading area, and the business area, all filled with countless robots performing duties."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "d3dcd08300264f679d7103cc90fd775f", "response_text": "The story begins outside the Lex Industries plant. The building is extremely plain from the outside with no windows on the sides, inside it's automated, with all the doors opening, lights turning on and off and a voice greeting the visitors. The building is empty inside, with only Mr. Lexington sitting at his huge table. There is a manufacturing area and truck doors inside, where everything is done by robots. In the office area there are rooms for sorting mail, other designated for bookkeeping and another one for purchase orders, all done by machines as well. "}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the significance of the machinery throughout the story.", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "107", "uid": "c5cf9b234e3c4af5918778589a91c2a1", "response_text": "The machinery is what keeps Lex Industries running and for Mr. Lexington to earn astronomical amounts of money continuously. It replaces the need for human workers and saves much of the costs that would have had to be distributed to workers. It is also the lifeline of Mr. Lexington’s work and the breakthrough of his research career. Peter considers the machinery to be ideas that are planned for ten to twenty years into the future. This makes the machinery even more impressive. The fact that an entire business can be operated with the central control system makes it even more significant in helping Mr. Lexington get ahead of his competitors."}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "207a94c447c74e98a67fa0f25dbc2b1a", "response_text": "The machinery is very important to Mr. Lexington’s company. He uses them for all of the tasks necessary to run the company, such as unloading the trucks and the supply chain department. The machines helped Mr. Lexington grow his business and make more money. He didn’t like the specialization that many people focused on when creating machines to replace humans which is why he created a single unit taking inspiration from biology. They are modelled by the behavior of biology as Mr. Lexington is very fascinated by the subject. The machinery was able to increase its intelligence by learning from watching what Mr. Lexington did and taking over those responsibilities. The machine proved to become increasingly self-aware and intelligent to Mr. Lexington’s surprise. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "abcdc8d4a8b949dd8464a7b26645e602", "response_text": "The machinery used at Lex Industries is the product of years of trial and error by Mr. Lexington to create the most profitable business model. He has designed the machinery to operate on one multi-purpose control circuit, and gradually taught the machines to remember, detect patters, and define success. The latter was accomplished using a \"kicker button\", which Mr. Lexington would press when he was pleased with the factory's operations. The machinery and its efficiency is what has made Lex Industries so successful; the short production time, fast shipping, and little labor. "}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "d3dcd08300264f679d7103cc90fd775f", "response_text": "Machines are doing everything in Lex Industries, they replace every human job. Doors are opening by themselves, the lights turn on and off on their own as people go by. An automatic voice meets the visitors instead of a secretary. Bookkeeping, mail sorting, unloading trucks, checking the cargo, sorting it, and all other parts of production are made by robots. They are controlled by one main system of the plant, making it one automatic system. The machines fill the building and make it lonely, they scare Peter, while Lexington loves them. Such structure reminds Peter of the plans for the future, as other such offices do not exist. Machines deprive Lexington of any job at all for months and even take control sometimes, they even threaten his authority. "}]}, {"question_text": "What is the relationship between Mr. Lexington and Peter?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "107", "uid": "c5cf9b234e3c4af5918778589a91c2a1", "response_text": "Peter first meets Mr. Lexington at his interview. He finds the other man strange from the seemingly random questions that he asks. Mr. Lexington, however, becomes more interested in Peter when he is satisfied with the responses given. While the two of them are not close, Mr. Lexington does not dismiss him on the spot and instead takes him to tour the entire factory. He also elaborates on his life story to Peter, and he does have a certain degree of trust for the other man. On the other hand, Peter is very impressed by Mr. Lexington’s work and becomes more interested in how he has accomplished all of this in the time since he first began working on his business."}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "207a94c447c74e98a67fa0f25dbc2b1a", "response_text": "Mr. Lexington is the owner of Lex Industries and is interviewing Peter who is seeking a job. Mr. Lexington has the power of being in control of the situation because his decision is what will give Peter a job or not. Peter is initially intimidated by Mr. Lexington but as the interview continues, Peter begins to no longer be intimidated by Mr. Lexington and is able to match his challenging gaze. As the interview continues, the two settle into a friendly conversation with Mr. Lexington relaying stories about the growth of the machine’s intelligence. "}, {"worker_id": "101", "uid": "abcdc8d4a8b949dd8464a7b26645e602", "response_text": "Peter is intimidated by Mr. Lexington throughout the story; he views him as a powerful, wealthy, angry man, though he warms up to him gradually. Peter makes several remarks throughout the interview to win Mr. Lexington's approval. First, he doesn't answer when Mr. Lexington asks him what he can do. He additionally notes his observations of the outside of the building. Peter presents himself as a man capable of learning the ways of Lex Industries, which Mr. Lexington likes. However, despite this approval, Mr. Lexington still challenges Peter's thinking and statements, assuring himself as the superior."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "d3dcd08300264f679d7103cc90fd775f", "response_text": "Peter is willing to work for Mr. Lexington's company. Getting the job is vital for him, he will be evicted if he doesn't get it. After what he has heard, Peter is scared of the man, he is cautious in his words, though sometimes he can't control his anger and confusion. Lexington sees Peter as a teachable young man and prefers him to previous ones, though he doesn't like people that much overall. Nevertheless, Lexington tells Peter the story of his business and shows around, putting a start to their co-work. "}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "63616", "uid": "1834a081a5024a61889fa71a19cb88f1", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "HAGERTY'S ENZYMES\n \n\n By A. L. HALEY\n \n There's a place for every man and a man for every place, but on robot-harried Mars the situation was just a little different.\n \n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n \n Harper Breen sank down gingerly into the new Relaxo-Lounge. He placed twitching hands on the arm-rests and laid his head back stiffly. He closed his fluttering eyelids and clamped his mouth to keep the corner from jumping.\n \n \"Just lie back, Harp,\" droned his sister soothingly. \"Just give in and let go of everything.\"\n \n Harper tried to let go of everything. He gave in to the chair. And gently the chair went to work. It rocked rhythmically, it vibrated tenderly. With velvety cushions it massaged his back and arms and legs.\n \n For all of five minutes Harper stood it. Then with a frenzied lunge he escaped the embrace of the Relaxo-Lounge and fled to a gloriously stationary sofa.\n \n \"Harp!\" His sister, Bella, was ready to weep with exasperation. \"Dr. Franz said it would be just the thing for you! Why won't you give it a trial?\"\n \n Harper glared at the preposterous chair. \"Franz!\" he snarled. \"That prize fathead! I've paid him a fortune in fees. I haven't slept for weeks. I can't eat anything but soup. My nerves are jangling like a four-alarm fire. And what does he prescribe? A blasted jiggling baby carriage! Why, I ought to send him the bill for it!\" Completely outraged, he lay back on the couch and closed his eyes.\n \n \"Now, Harp, you know you've never obeyed his orders. He told you last year that you'd have to ease up. Why do you have to try to run the whole world? It's the strain of all your business worries that's causing your trouble. He told you to take a long vacation or you'd crack up. Don't blame him for your own stubbornness.\"\n \n Harper snorted. His large nose developed the sound magnificently.\n\"Vacation!\" he snorted. \"Batting a silly ball around or dragging a hook after a stupid fish! Fine activities for an intelligent middle-aged man! And let me correct you. It isn't business worries that are driving me to a crack-up. It's the strain of trying to get some sensible, reasonable coöperation from the nincompoops I have to hire! It's the idiocy of the human race that's got me whipped! It's the—\"\n \n \"Hey, Harp, old man!\" His brother-in-law, turning the pages of the new colorama magazine, INTERPLANETARY, had paused at a double-spread.\n\"Didn't you have a finger in those Martian equatorial wells they sunk twenty years ago?\"\n \n Harper's hands twitched violently. \"Don't mention that fiasco!\" he rasped. \"That deal nearly cost me my shirt! Water, hell! Those wells spewed up the craziest conglomeration of liquids ever tapped!\"\n \n \n\n \n Scribney, whose large, phlegmatic person and calm professorial brain were the complete antithesis of Harper's picked-crow physique and scheming financier's wits, looked severely over his glasses. Harp's nervous tribulations were beginning to bore him, as well as interfere with the harmony of his home.\n \n \"You're away behind the times, Harp,\" he declared. \"Don't you know that those have proved to be the most astoundingly curative springs ever discovered anywhere? Don't you know that a syndicate has built the largest extra-terrestial hotel of the solar system there and that people are flocking to it to get cured of whatever ails 'em? Old man, you missed a bet!\"\n \n Leaping from the sofa, Harper rudely snatched the magazine from Scribney's hands. He glared at the spread which depicted a star-shaped structure of bottle-green glass resting jewel-like on the rufous rock of Mars. The main portion of the building consisted of a circular skyscraper with a glass-domed roof. Between its star-shaped annexes, other domes covered landscaped gardens and noxious pools which in the drawing looked lovely and enticing.\n \n \"Why, I remember now!\" exclaimed Bella. \"That's where the Durants went two years ago! He was about dead and she looked like a hag. They came back in wonderful shape. Don't you remember, Scrib?\"\n \n Dutifully Scribney remembered and commented on the change the Martian springs had effected in the Durants. \"It's the very thing for you, Harp,\" he advised. \"You'd get a good rest on the way out. This gas they use in the rockets nowadays is as good as a rest-cure; it sort of floats you along the time-track in a pleasant daze, they tell me. And you can finish the cure at the hotel while looking it over. And not only that.\" Confidentially he leaned toward his insignificant looking brother-in-law. \"The chemists over at Dade McCann have just isolated an enzyme from one species of Martian fungus that breaks down crude oil into its components without the need for chemical processing. There's a fortune waiting for the man who corners that fungus market and learns to process the stuff!\"\n \n Scribney had gauged his victim's mental processes accurately. The magazine sagged in Harp's hands, and his sharp eyes became shrewd and calculating. He even forgot to twitch. \"Maybe you're right, Scrib,\" he acknowledged. \"Combine a rest-cure with business, eh?\"\n \n Raising the magazine, he began reading the advertisement. And that was when he saw the line about the robots. \"—the only hotel staffed entirely with robot servants—\"\n \n \"Robots!\" he shrilled. \"You mean they've developed the things to that point? Why hasn't somebody told me? I'll have Jackson's hide! I'll disfranchise him! I'll—\"\n \n \"Harp!\" exploded Bella. \"Stop it! Maybe Jackson doesn't know a thing about it, whatever it is! If it's something at the Emerald Star Hotel, why don't you just go and find out for yourself instead of throwing a tantrum? That's the only sensible way!\"\n \n \"You're right, Bella,\" agreed Harper incisively. \"I'll go and find out for myself. Immediately!\" Scooping up his hat, he left at his usual lope.\n \n \"Well!\" remarked his sister. \"All I can say is that they'd better turn that happy-gas on extra strong for Harp's trip out!\"\n \n \n\n \n The trip out did Harper a world of good. Under the influence of the soporific gas that permeated the rocket, he really relaxed for the first time in years, sinking with the other passengers into a hazy lethargy with little sense of passing time and almost no memory of the interval.\n \n It seemed hardly more than a handful of hours until they were strapping themselves into deceleration hammocks for the landing. And then Harper was waking with lassitude still heavy in his veins. He struggled out of the hammock, made his way to the airlock, and found himself whisked by pneumatic tube directly into the lobby of the Emerald Star Hotel.\n \n Appreciatively he gazed around at the half-acre of moss-gray carpeting, green-tinted by the light sifting through the walls of Martian copper-glass, and at the vistas of beautiful domed gardens framed by a dozen arches. But most of all, the robots won his delighted approval.\n \n He could see at once that they had been developed to an amazingly high state of perfection. How, he wondered again, had this been done without his knowledge? Was Scrib right? Was he slipping? Gnawing at the doubt, he watched the robots moving efficiently about, pushing patients in wheelchairs, carrying trays, guiding newcomers, performing janitorial duties tirelessly, promptly, and best of all, silently.\n \n Harper was enthralled. He'd staff his offices with them. Hang the expense! There'd be no more of that obnoxious personal friction and proneness to error that was always deviling the most carefully trained office staffs! He'd investigate and find out the exact potentialities of these robots while here, and then go home and introduce them into the field of business. He'd show them whether he was slipping! Briskly he went over to the desk.\n \n He was immediately confronted with a sample of that human obstinacy that was slowly driving him mad. Machines, he sighed to himself. Wonderful silent machines! For a woman was arguing stridently with the desk clerk who, poor man, was a high strung fellow human instead of a robot. Harper watched him shrinking and turning pale lavender in the stress of the argument.\n \n \"A nurse!\" shouted the woman. \"I want a nurse! A real woman! For what you charge, you should be able to give me a television star if I want one! I won't have another of those damnable robots in my room, do you hear?\"\n \n No one within the confines of the huge lobby could have helped hearing. The clerk flinched visibly. \"Now, Mrs. Jacobsen,\" he soothed. \"You know the hotel is staffed entirely with robots. They're much more expensive, really, than human employees, but so much more efficient, you know. Admit it, they give excellent service, don't they, now?\" Toothily he smiled at the enraged woman.\n \n \"That's just it!\" Mrs. Jacobsen glared. \"The service is too good. I might just as well have a set of push buttons in the room. I want someone to hear what I say! I want to be able to change my mind once in awhile!\"\n \n Harper snorted. \"Wants someone she can devil,\" he diagnosed. \"Someone she can get a kick out of ordering around.\" With vast contempt he stepped to the desk beside her and peremptorily rapped for the clerk.\n \n \"One moment, sir,\" begged that harassed individual. \"Just one moment, please.\" He turned back to the woman.\n \n But she had turned her glare on Harper. \"You could at least be civil enough to wait your turn!\"\n \n Harper smirked. \"My good woman, I'm not a robot. Robots, of course, are always civil. But you should know by now that civility isn't a normal human trait.\" Leaving her temporarily quashed, he beckoned authoritatively to the clerk.\n \n \"I've just arrived and want to get settled. I'm here merely for a rest-cure, no treatments. You can assign my quarters before continuing your—ah—discussion with the lady.\"\n \n The clerk sputtered. Mrs. Jacobsen sputtered. But not for nothing was Harper one of the leading business executives of the earth. Harper's implacable stare won his point. Wiping beads of moisture from his forehead, the clerk fumbled for a card, typed it out, and was about to deposit it in the punch box when a fist hit the desk a resounding blow and another voice, male, roared out at Harper's elbow.\n \n \"This is a helluva joint!\" roared the voice. \"Man could rot away to the knees while he's waitin' for accommodations. Service!\" Again his fist banged the counter.\n \n The clerk jumped. He dropped Harper's card and had to stoop for it. Absently holding it, he straightened up to face Mrs. Jacobsen and the irate newcomer. Hastily he pushed a tagged key at Harper.\n \n \"Here you are, Mr. Breen. I'm sure you'll find it comfortable.\" With a pallid smile he pressed a button and consigned Harper to the care of a silent and efficient robot.\n \n \n\n \n The room was more than comfortable. It was beautiful. Its bank of clear windows set in the green glass wall framed startling rubicund views of the Martian hinterland where, Harper affectionately thought, fungi were busy producing enzymes that were going to be worth millions for him and his associates. There remained only the small detail of discovering how to extract them economically and to process them on this more than arid and almost airless planet. Details for his bright young laboratory men; mere details....\n \n Leaving his luggage to be unpacked by the robot attendant, he went up to the domed roof restaurant. Lunching boldly on broiled halibut with consomme, salad and a bland custard, he stared out at the dark blue sky of Mars, with Deimos hanging in the east in three-quarter phase while Phobos raced up from the west like a meteor behind schedule. Leaning back in his cushioned chair, he even more boldly lit a slim cigar—his first in months—and inhaled happily. For once old Scribney had certainly been right, he reflected. Yes sir, Scrib had rung the bell, and he wasn't the man to forget it. With a wonderful sense of well-being he returned to his room and prepared to relax.\n \n Harper opened his eyes. Two robots were bending over him. He saw that they were dressed in white, like hospital attendants. But he had no further opportunity to examine them. With brisk, well-co-ordinated movements they wheeled a stretcher along-side his couch, stuck a hypo into his arm, bundled him onto the stretcher and started wheeling him out.\n \n Harper's tongue finally functioned. \"What's all this?\" he demanded.\n\"There's nothing wrong with me. Let me go!\"\n \n He struggled to rise, but a metal hand pushed him firmly on the chest. Inexorably it pushed him flat.\n \n \"You've got the wrong room!\" yelled Harp. \"Let me go!\" But the hypo began to take effect. His yells became weaker and drowsier. Hazily, as he drifted off, he thought of Mrs. Jacobsen. Maybe she had something, at that.\n \n \n\n \n There was a tentative knock on the door. \"Come in,\" called Harper bleakly. As soon as the door opened he regretted his invitation, for the opening framed the large untidy man who had noisily pounded on the desk demanding service while he, Harp, was being registered.\n \n \"Say, pardner,\" he said hoarsely, \"you haven't seen any of them robots around here, have you?\"\n \n Harper scowled. \"Oh, haven't I?\" he grated. \"Robots! Do you know what they did to me.\" Indignation lit fires in his pale eyes. \"Came in here while I was lying down peacefully digesting the first meal I've enjoyed in months, dragged me off to the surgery, and pumped it all out! The only meal I've enjoyed in months!\" Blackly he sank his chin onto his fist and contemplated the outrage.\n \n \"Why didn't you stop 'em?\" reasonably asked the visitor.\n \n \"Stop a robot?\" Harper glared pityingly. \"How? You can't reason with the blasted things. And as for using force—it's man against metal. You try it!\" He ground his teeth together in futile rage. \"And to think I had the insane notion that robots were the last word! Why, I was ready to staff my offices with the things!\"\n \n The big man placed his large hands on his own capacious stomach and groaned. \"I'm sure sorry it was you and not me, pardner. I could use some of that treatment right now. Musta been that steak and onions I ate after all that tundra dope I've been livin' on.\"\n \n \"Tundra?\" A faint spark of alertness lightened Harper's dull rage. \"You mean you work out here on the tundra?\"\n \n \"That's right. How'd you think I got in such a helluva shape? I'm superintendent of one of the fungus plants. I'm Jake Ellis of Hagerty's Enzymes. There's good money in it, but man, what a job! No air worth mentionin'. Temperature always freezin' or below. Pressure suits. Huts. Factory. Processed food. Nothin' else. Just nothin'. That's where they could use some robots. It sure ain't no job for a real live man. And in fact, there ain't many men left there. If old man Hagerty only knew it, he's about out of business.\"\n \n Harper sat up as if he'd been needled. He opened his mouth to speak. But just then the door opened briskly and two robots entered. With a horrified stare, Harper clutched his maltreated stomach. He saw a third robot enter, wheeling a chair.\n \n \"A wheel chair!\" squeaked the victim. \"I tell you, there's nothing wrong with me! Take it away! I'm only here for a rest-cure! Believe me! Take it away!\"\n \n The robots ignored him. For the first time in his spectacular and ruthless career Harper was up against creatures that he could neither bribe, persuade nor browbeat, inveigle nor ignore. It shattered his ebbing self-confidence. He began waving his hands helplessly.\n \n The robots not only ignored Harper. They paid no attention at all to Jake Ellis, who was plucking at their metallic arms pleading, \"Take me, boys. I need the treatment bad, whatever it is. I need all the treatment I can get. Take me! I'm just a wreck, fellers—\"\n \n Stolidly they picked Harper up, plunked him into the chair, strapped him down and marched out with him.\n \n \n\n \n Dejectedly Ellis returned to his own room. Again he lifted the receiver of the room phone; but as usual a robot voice answered sweetly, mechanically, and meaninglessly. He hung up and went miserably to bed.\n \n \n\n \n There was something nagging at Harper's mind. Something he should do. Something that concerned robots. But he was too exhausted to think it out.\n \n For five days now his pet robots had put him through an ordeal that made him flinch every time he thought about it. Which wasn't often, since he was almost past thinking. They plunked him into stinking mud-baths and held him there until he was well-done to the bone, he was sure. They soaked him in foul, steaming irradiated waters until he gagged. They brought him weird concoctions to eat and drink and then stood over him until he consumed them. They purged and massaged and exercised him.\n \n Whenever they let him alone, he simply collapsed into bed and slept. There was nothing else to do anyway. They'd taken his clothes; and the phone, after an announcement that he would have no more service for two weeks, gave him nothing but a busy signal.\n \n \"Persecution, that's what it is!\" he moaned desperately. And he turned his back to the mirror, which showed him that he was beginning to look flesh-colored instead of the parchment yellow to which he had become accustomed. He closed his mind to the fact that he was sleeping for hours on end like the proverbial baby, and that he was getting such an appetite that he could almost relish even that detestable mush they sent him for breakfast. He was determined to be furious. As soon as he could wake up enough to be.\n \n He hadn't been awake long this time before Jake Ellis was there again, still moaning about his lack of treatments. \"Nothin' yet,\" he gloomily informed Harp. \"They haven't been near me. I just can't understand it. After I signed up for the works and paid 'em in advance! And I can't find any way out of this section. The other two rooms are empty and the elevator hasn't got any button. The robots just have to come and get a man or he's stuck.\"\n \n \"Stuck!\" snarled Harp. \"I'm never stuck! And I'm damned if I'll wait any longer to break out of this—this jail! Listen, Jake. I've been thinking. Or trying to, with what's left of me. You came in just when that assinine clerk was registering me. I'll bet that clerk got rattled and gave me the wrong key. I'll bet you're supposed to have this room and I'm getting your treatments. Why don't we switch rooms and see what happens?\"\n \n \"Say, maybe you're right!\" Jake's eyes gleamed at last with hope. \"I'll get my clothes.\"\n \n Harp's eyebrows rose. \"You mean they left you your clothes?\"\n \n \"Why, sure. You mean they took yours?\"\n \n Harp nodded. An idea began to formulate. \"Leave your things, will you? I'm desperate! I'm going to see the manager of this madhouse if I have to go down dressed in a sheet. Your clothes would be better than that.\"\n \n Jake, looking over Harper's skimpy frame, grunted doubtfully. \"Maybe you could tie 'em on so they wouldn't slip. And roll up the cuffs. It's okay with me, but just don't lose something when you're down there in that fancy lobby.\"\n \n Harper looked at his watch. \"Time to go. Relax, old man. The robots will be along any minute now. If you're the only man in the room, I'm sure they'll take you. They aren't equipped to figure it out. And don't worry about me. I'll anchor your duds all right.\"\n \n Harper had guessed right. Gleefully from the doorway of his new room he watched the robots wheel away his equally delighted neighbor for his first treatment. Then he closed the door and began to don Jake's clothing.\n \n The result was unique. He looked like a small boy in his father's clothes, except for the remarkably aged and gnome-like head sticking up on a skinny neck from a collar three sizes too big. And he was shoeless. He was completely unable to navigate in Jake's number twelves. But Harper was a determined man. He didn't even flinch from his image in the mirror. Firmly he stepped over to Jake's telephone.\n\"This is room 618,\" he said authoritatively. \"Send up the elevator for me. I want to go down to the lobby.\"\n \n He'd guessed right again. \"It will be right up, sir,\" responded the robot operator. Hopefully he stepped out into the hall and shuffled to the elevator.\n \n \n\n \n Only the robots were immune to Harper Breen's progress across the huge suave lobby.\n \n He was a blot on its rich beauty, a grotesque enigma that rooted the other visitors into paralyzed staring groups. Stepping out of the elevator, he had laid a course for the desk which loomed like an island in a moss-gray lake, and now he strode manfully toward it, ignoring the oversize trousers slapping around his stocking feet. Only the robots shared his self control.\n \n The clerk was the first to recover from the collective stupor. Frantically he pushed the button that would summon the robot guard. With a gasp of relief he saw the two massive manlike machines moving inexorably forward. He pointed to Harper. \"Get that patient!\" he ordered. \"Take him to the—to the mud-baths!\"\n \n \"No you don't!\" yelled Harper. \"I want to see the manager!\" Nimbly he circled the guard and leaped behind the desk. He began to throw things at the robots. Things like inkwells and typewriters and card indexes. Especially, card indexes.\n \n \"Stop it!\" begged the clerk. \"You'll wreck the system! We'll never get it straight again! Stop it!\"\n \n \"Call them off!\" snarled Harper. \"Call them off or I'll ruin your switchboard!\" He put a shoulder against it and prepared to heave.\n \n With one last appalled glare at the madman, the clerk picked up an electric finger and pointed it at the approaching robots. They became oddly inanimate.\n \n \"That's better!\" Harper straightened up and meticulously smoothed the collar of his flapping coat. \"Now—the manager, please.\"\n \n \"This—this way, sir.\" With shrinking steps the clerk led Harper across the width of the lobby among the fascinated guests. He was beyond speech. Opening the inconspicuous door, he waved Harper inside and returned doggedly to his desk, where he began to pick up things and at the same time phrase his resignation in his mind.\n \n Brushing aside the startled secretary in the outer cubicle, Harper flapped and shuffled straight into the inner sanctum. The manager, who was busy chewing a cigar to shreds behind his fortress of gun metal desk, jerked hastily upright and glared at the intruder. \"My good man—\" he began.\n \n \"Don't 'my-good-man' me!\" snapped Harper. He glared back at the manager. Reaching as far across the expanse of desktop as he could stretch, he shook his puny fist. \"Do you know who I am? I'm Harper S. Breen, of Breen and Helgart, Incorporated! And do you know why I haven't even a card to prove it? Do you know why I have to make my way downstairs in garb that makes a laughing stock of me? Do you know why? Because that assinine clerk of yours put me in the wrong room and those damnable robots of yours then proceeded to make a prisoner of me! Me, Harper S. Breen! Why, I'll sue you until you'll be lucky if you have a sheet of writing-paper left in this idiot's retreat!\"\n \n Hayes, the manager, blanched. Then he began to mottle in an apoplectic pattern. And suddenly with a gusty sigh, he collapsed into his chair. With a shaking hand he mopped his forehead. \" My robots!\" he muttered.\n\"As if I invented the damned things!\"\n \n Despondently he looked at Harper. \"Go ahead and sue, Mr. Breen. If you don't, somebody else will. And if nobody sues, we'll go broke anyway, at the rate our guest list is declining. I'm ready to hand in my resignation.\"\n \n Again he sighed. \"The trouble,\" he explained, \"is that those fool robots are completely logical, and people aren't. There's no way to mix the two. It's dynamite. Maybe people can gradually learn to live with robots, but they haven't yet. Only we had to find it out the hard way. We—\" he grimaced disgustedly—\"had to pioneer in the use of robots. And it cost us so much that we can't afford to reconvert to human help. So—Operation Robot is about to bankrupt the syndicate.\"\n \n Listening, an amazing calm settled on Harper. Thoughtfully now he hooked a chair to the desk with his stockinged foot, sat down and reached for the cigar that Hayes automatically offered him. \"Oh, I don't know,\" he said mildly.\n \n Hayes leaned forward like a drowning man sighting a liferaft. \"What do you mean, you don't know? You're threatening to take our shirts, aren't you?\"\n \n Meticulously Harper clipped and lit his cigar. \"It seems to me that these robots might be useful in quite another capacity. I might even make a deal with your syndicate to take them off your hands—at a reasonable price, of course—and forget the outrages I've suffered at your establishment.\"\n \n Hayes leaned toward him incredulous. \"You mean you want these robots after what you've seen and experienced?\"\n \n Placidly Harper puffed a smoke ring. \"Of course, you'd have to take into consideration that it would be an experiment for me, too. And there's the suit I'm clearly justified in instituting. However, I'm willing to discuss the matter with your superiors.\"\n \n With hope burgeoning for the first time in weeks, Hayes lifted his head. \"My dear Mr. Breen, to get rid of these pestiferous robots, I'll back you to the hilt! I'll notify the owners at once. At once, Mr. Breen! And while we wait for them, allow me to put you up as a guest of the hotel.\" Coming around to Harper, he effusively shook Harp's scrawny hand, and then personally escorted him not merely to the door but across the lobby to the elevator.\n \n Harper gazed out at the stunned audience. This was more like the treatment he was accustomed to! Haughtily he squared his bony shoulders inside the immense jacket and stepped into the elevator. He was ready for the second step of his private Operation Robot.\n \n \n\n \n Back on Earth it was a warm, misty spring day—the kind of day unknown to the planet Mars. Bella and Scribney, superb in new spring outfits, waited restlessly while the rocket cooled and the passengers recovered from deceleration.\n \n \"Look, Scrib!\" Bella clutched Scribney's substantial arm. \"It's finally opening.\"\n \n They watched the airlock open and the platform wheel into place. They watched the passengers descend, looking a trifle dazed.\n \n \"There he is!\" cried Bella. \"Why, doesn't he look wonderful! Scrib, it's amazing! Look at him!\n \n And indeed, Harper was stepping briskly downward, looking spry and fit and years younger. He came across to them actually beaming. It was the first pleasant expression they had seen on his face in years.\n \n \"Well, you old dog!\" exclaimed Scribney affectionately. \"So you did it again!\"\n \n Harper smirked. \"Yep, I turned a neat little deal. I bought out Hagerty's Enzymes and staffed the plant with the hotel's robots. Got both of 'em dirt cheap. Both concerns going bankrupt because they didn't have sense enough to swap their workers. Feel I owe you a bit for that tip about enzymes, Scrib, so I made out a block of stock to you. All right?\"\n \n \"All right?\" Scribney gulped. Why, the dried-up little turnip was human after all. \"All right! Yes, sir! But aren't you going to use some of those robots for office help? Aren't they efficient and all that?\"\n \n Harper's smile vanished. \"Don't even mention such a thing!\" he yelped.\n\"You don't know what you're saying! I lived with those things for weeks. I wouldn't have one around! Keep 'em in the factory where they belong!\"\n \n He glimpsed the composed, wonderfully human face of his secretary, waiting patiently in the background. \"Oh there you are, Smythe.\" He turned to his relatives. \"Busy day ahead. See you later, folks—\"\n \n \"Same old Harp,\" observed Scribney. Then he thought of the block of stock. \"What say we celebrate our rise to a position in the syndicate, honey?\"\n \n \"Wonderful!\" She squeezed his arm, and smiling at each other, they left the port.", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "e771011d17e94e22b8f860305f70a41c", "response_text": "Harper Breen is exhausted. His business worries are keeping him up at night, and he hasn't had a proper night's sleep in too long. His brother in law, Scribney , suggests paying a visit to a hotel on mars, where they have equatorial wells which cure people's ailments.  There is also a fungus that grows there that breaks down crude oil, a financial gold mine! \nHarper decides to go to this hotel, both for rest and the opportunity of getting into this new fungi business. After what seems like a mere number of hours, the rocket comes into land, and Harper goes directly to the lobby of the Emerald Star Hotel. \nHarper notices the beauty of his surroundings, and how the entire hotel is staffed by very efficient, silent robots. He goes over to the desk, where a woman is complaining to the clerk about the treatment she is receiving from these robots. Harper decides to go over and interrupt the conversation, asking for his room key. \nA large man walks over, also asking for service. In a panic, the clerk hastily gives a room key to Harper, and hands him off to a robot to show him to his room. \nHarper arrives in his room where he gets settled, and then makes his way to the restaurant. Suddenly, Harper wakes up to see two robots bending over him. They take him by force and wheel him away into surgery. \nHarper wakes up to find the same man from the clerk desk knocking at his door. The man introduces himself as Jake Ellis, of Hagerty's Enzymes. He works on the tundra in the fungus \nplants. Two more robots enter and take Harper away again. Hey put him through a rigorous amount of detoxing procedures that wipe him out. \nHe speaks with Ellis again, who complains that he hasn't received any treatments yet. Harper proposes that the clerk probably mixed up their room keys. They decide to switch rooms and clothes to see what happens.  \nHarper goes to Ellis' room, puts on his clothes, and walks down to the lobby, where he meets the clerk once again. He demands to see the manager, and after an altercation, the clerk shows him to his office. \nHarper states to the manager that he is Harper S. Breen, of Breen and Helgart Inc. He complains to him about the treatment he had received because the clerk mixed up his room key.\nThe manager tells him to sue if he wants, the business is already failing. He knows the robots are turning people away. Breen tells the manager that he could take the robots off his hands, for a reasonable price, that way the hotel would be able to afford real nurses again. \nHarper arrives back on Earth to tell his sister and brother in law that he has bought out Hagerty's Enzymes, and staffed it with the robots from the hotel. "}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "396806fb81454d70a6d7a6905357a773", "response_text": "Harper Breen is nervous, he has troubles sleeping and eating, his business and employees drive him crazy. His sister is urging him to follow Dr. Franz's instructions to go on vacation. Harp's brother-in-law, Scribney, intervenes and shows a picture of the most luxurious hotel on Mars with curative springs. Scribney also hints Harper about a business opportunity in the hotel. It convinces Harper and he decides to combine rest with business after all. He soon boards on the rocket that is filled with soporific gas, so Harper arrives at the hotel lobby relaxed. The hotel is gorgeous indeed and the robots are offering all kinds of services throughout the place. The least impresses Harp as his human employees are the source of his irritation, so his new goal is to introduce the robots to his office later. Then he hears a woman at the front desk demanding a human nurse as the robots are too good and she wants to be heard. Harper proceeds to his room with a beautiful view and enjoys the silent robots' company. Then he dines in the rooftop restaurant and returns to his room in a good mood, willing to relax. Suddenly, he is bundled onto the stretcher and wheeled out by two robots, though he asked for no nursing. Harper is outraged with the robots pumping out all of his meal and at his own helplessness, he is disappointed in the machines. He tells all of this to his unexpected visitor, Jake Ellis, who, on the contrary, desperately wants treatment. Turns out the man works in severe conditions in tundra with fungus plants. His owner is soon going to be broke, as the workers quit the hard job which better fits robots. For the next couple days Harper is forced to go through various procedures which make him look and feel better, but also make him angry with being helpless. He believes there is a mistake and offers to switch rooms with Jake, who still desperately wants his treatment. Harper puts on Jake's huge clothes and goes to the lobby looking ridiculous. When a clerk orders the robot guards to take the patient away, Harper starts fighting back, and the clerk, scared the system would break, calls them off. Harper is led to the manager and after a brief outburst of his rage the manager tells that the hotel is going broke anyway, because people can't mix with robots, so he doesn't care what Harper can do to him. Now the hotel can't hire humans as it has spent all the money on robots and Harper offers to buy them. When he returns to Earth, he is met by Bella, his sister, and Scribney. Harper says he bought both the robots and the enzymes and switched the workers, saving both firms from bankruptcy. He also mentions never wanting even one robot around and starts appreciating his employees. \n"}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "5ad926ba2d7b4b7992f9cdb92191172a", "response_text": "Harper Breen is constantly stressed out and tries to relax in his new Relaxo-Lounge. However, he quickly hurries out of the chair, making his sister Bella despair. He angrily calls out Dr. Franz for another useless method. Bella insists on a vacation, but Harper vehemently denies the idea because he is busy. His brother-in-law brings up his involvement in the sinking of Martian equatorial wells twenty years ago, making him even angrier. Scribney shows Harper a hotel completely staffed by robots. Bella mentions that the Durants came back from that place in much better shape after resting in the Martian springs. Scribney also brings up the possibility for great fortune because of the discovery breakthrough involving enzymes and Martian fungi. Harper agrees to the vacation because he can rest and do business. Once he arrives at the Emerald Star hotel, he observes how the robots work at perfect efficiency and silently. He then sees a woman arguing with the human desk clerk about seeing a real human nurse. Harper concludes that she wants somebody to boss around and strides confidently to check himself in. She is offended by his intrusion, but he reminds her that civility is not a normal human trait. As the clerk checks him in, another newcomer comes to complain. Harper goes to his beautiful room and begins to enjoy his vacation. After lunch and smoking a cigar, two robots come to his room for treatment. Later, the newcomer returns and asks Harper about the service he received from the robots earlier. The man introduces himself as Jake Ellis of Hagerty’s Enzymes. Harper becomes interested in the company he works at, but three robots come inside to take him away on a wheelchair before he can say more. They also ignore Jake Ellis, who continuously pleads for treatment. The robots put him through similar ordeals for the next five days, and he is sick of it the next time he sees Jake Ellis. They theorize that the clerk initially mixed the keys up and plans to find the manager. Wearing Ellis’ clothes, he goes down to the lobby and shocks the other guests. The clerk is shocked and tries to get the robots to treat him. Harper furiously denies it and threatens to destroy the switchboard. The manager greets him, and he voices all of his complaints. Hayes, the manager, gives up with a sigh and tells Harper that they are about to go bankrupt from the robots. Harper calms down, and he asks to speak to the owners about a potential business deal forming in his head. Afterwards, he returns to Bella and Scribney, looking much fitter and younger. He tells them he has bought Hagerty’s Enzymes and staffed it with robots. When Scribney asks about using them in the office capacity, Harper says he wants nothing to do with them. He then goes off with his secretary Smythe while Scibney and Bella are happy about their rise to a position in the syndicate. "}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "8001ea9cb4f54938b614769f42561c28", "response_text": "Harper Breen, a business man is about to make a trip. At the beginning of the story, Harper Breen did not sleep and eat well for weeks, and was irritable. Since he does not listen to the healer, Franz’s advices, his sister and brother-in-law suggest that he has to make a trip to receive a rest-cure at the Emerald Star Hotel on Mars. Attracts by robot servants and potential value of Martian fungus, Harper goes on the trip immediately. However, the life in the hotel is not completely as Harper expected. Harper thinks that the robots are efficient, so he considers about having the robots worker in his office. However, living in the hotel and coming into direct contact with the robots makes him change his mind. The robots simply cannot communicate with humans. They are determined to follow what they are programmed to do. Though his sleep problem is largely improved, and his appetite is much better than before, he is forced by robots to stay in stinking mud-baths, and consume weird concoctions. These robots even take away his cloths. His yelling and protests does not work with the robots. Harper’s neighbor, Jake Ellis, who works in Hagerty’s Enzymes, desires Harper’s treatment. As a result, Harper and Jake agree to exchanged their rooms. Then, Harper finally gets the chance to wear Jake’s clothes and go down to the lobby of the hotel. After talking with the manager of the hotel, and combining Jake’s description of his job, Harper thinks that it is a good idea for business. The hotel wishes to get rid of these robots because humans and robots simply cannot get along with each other. The hotel is going bankrupt because of the robot workers. At the same time, The Hagerty’s Enzymes’ human workers are leaving because the job did not have satisfying working conditions. Thus, both companies are in the danger of bankruptcy, so Harper buys both companies and switches the workers with the robots. When he comes back to the earth, he looks much happier than before."}]}, {"question_text": "What is the main setting of the story", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "e771011d17e94e22b8f860305f70a41c", "response_text": "The main setting of the story in the Emerald Star Hotel. The half acre wide floor is covered with grey carpeting. There are glass walls which tint the light from the sun green. Outside are stunning domed gardens in a dozen acre lot. The lobby which holds the clerks desk is huge. Harper's room inside the hotel is stunning. The walls are made from the same green glass, which are accentuated with windows which look out onto the Martian hinterland. On the top of the skyscraper hotel is a domed roof restaurant, which is furnished with cushioned chairs. In another area of the hotel is a hospital, where it treats patients. Near the lobby is the manager's office. \n"}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "396806fb81454d70a6d7a6905357a773", "response_text": "The story starts in the house of Harper's sister. Harper, his sister, and her husband are all in the same room with a massaging armchair and a sofa. The husband, Scribney, is reading a magazine, he is bored with Harp's anger and lack of harmony in the house due to the least. The magazine shows a luxurious extraterrestrial hotel in the shape of a circular skyscraper surrounded with lovely pools and gardens. Soon, Harper leaves the house and heads towards the hotel via a rocket with soporific gas on board, which relaxes the passengers. From the rocket, Harper gets to the lobby of the Emerald Star Hotel by a tube. Everything is green there, the walls are made from glass, the gardens are framed with arches, and perfectly developed robots are offering various services all around. A robot escorts Harper to his room from the lobby. The room is beautiful and with stunning views. Harper goes up to the restaurant on the roof with the view of the dark blue sky. When he returns to the room, he is taken away by the robots in a wheelchair. This happens every day:  Harper deliberately goes through baths, massages, eating weird food, etc. Then he switches rooms with Jake, puts on his huge clothes, and watches Jack being taken to the procedures.  From there Harper is able to call the elevator and go to the lobby. The lobby is full of guests surprised at Harper's appearance. He is then led to the manager's office through an inconspicuous door. The manager is sitting at his metal desk. Then Harper returns to his room and soon back to Earth and to work. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "5ad926ba2d7b4b7992f9cdb92191172a", "response_text": "The story is initially set in an undisclosed location. There is a Relaxo-Lounge chair set up for Harper to relax in. Later, the Emerald Star Hotel is described as a star-shaped structure made out of bottle-green glass. The structure also rests jewel-like on the rough surface of Mars. The main portion consists of a circular skyscraper with a glass-domed roof. Between its star-shaped annexes, other domes cover the pools and landscaped gardens. The lobby of the hotel is filled with a half-acre of moss-gray carpeting, walls of Martian copper glass, and beautiful gardens at the vistas framed by a dozen arches. Most of the staff present are robot staff, carrying trails or pushing wheelchairs. There is also a desk for the clerk to work behind and give keys to guests who have checked in. There are also inkwells, typewriters, card indexes, and a switchboard to control the robots on the desk. Harper’s room has clear windows set in the green glass wall that shows the Martian hinterland and other amenities such as a bed. There is also a domed roof restaurant that Harper visits after he leaves his bags in the room. The hotel also has mud-baths, irradiated waters, and massage areas. When he meets the manager, the room they meet in has a chair and gun metal desk. \n\n"}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "8001ea9cb4f54938b614769f42561c28", "response_text": "People are able to travel to Mars from Earth by rockets. On the way to Mars, the rocket will be filled with soporific gas to relax people so that the trip happens smoothly. On the Mars, there is an Emerald Star Hotel built by a syndicate. There is also a company named Hagerty’s Enzymes, focusing on the fungus plants. Interestingly, the hotel’s servant are all robots while Hagerty’s Enzymes employs men. Both of these companies have not enough sense to swap their workers. But instead they are suffering from possible bankruptcy. "}]}, {"question_text": "Why do the robots not make good hotel staff?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "e771011d17e94e22b8f860305f70a41c", "response_text": "The robots do not make good hotel staff because they are so efficient, they lack any comprehension that humans inherently possess. When Harper first arrives in the hotel, he notices that a woman named Mrs. Jacobsen is giving out about her treatment by the robots. She thinks that the service they provide is too good. She isn't able to change her mind because the robots won't listen, they will just follow orders. They don't listen to Harper when he tries to tell them that he did not book into the hotel for treatment, as they are simply following orders. They don't reason with him when he tries to get out of the treatment, and force him to undergo the procedures. The manager knows that the robots aren't working, and he tells Harper that guest reservations have already declined because of it. "}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "396806fb81454d70a6d7a6905357a773", "response_text": "The robots are logical and people are not, so the two do not mix. People can't coexist with robots for that reason. Some people want human stuff while in a hotel to shout at, to argue with, to be able to change minds and to hear them out. Moreover, robots are impossible to convince or fight back, so they make the visitors feel like helpless prisoners. If a mistake happens, it's impossible to explain it to the robots. They are even more annoying with their indifference than people are. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "5ad926ba2d7b4b7992f9cdb92191172a", "response_text": "The robots do not make good hotel staff because they cannot connect to humans emotionally. They do all of the tasks perfectly and quickly, but it is too logical for the current feelings of humans. Many guests are dissatisfied with the service, not from a technical standpoint, but because they cannot change their minds once the initial order has been issued. The robots can also not listen to what any human says, only following what is programmed into them. This is evident in Harper’s experience later, when he insists that the robots do not give him any treatment because he does not need it. However, the robots have taken all of his items and left him with no choice but to comply. On the other hand, Ellis has been requesting treatment since he arrived at the hotel and has received none because the robots were not issued any commands to give him treatment. "}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "8001ea9cb4f54938b614769f42561c28", "response_text": "Robots simply cannot communicate with humans. In the story, Mrs. Jacobsen is angry and asks for a real woman as a nurse instead of a robot. The reason is not because robots did works not good enough, instead, it was because she wanted someone to hear what she says. Also, when robots come into Harper’s room to bring him to the mud-bath. Harper did not have the chance and the ability to talk to robots. They are determined to follow what they are programmed to do. He is forced by robots to stay in stinking mud-baths, and consume weird concoctions. These robots even take away his cloths. His yelling and protests does not work with the robots. Though Harper’s sleep problem is largely improved, and his appetite is much better than before, he feels angry about it because he never wanted it in the first place. "}]}, {"question_text": "What are the treatments that Harper went through, and what were their effects?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "e771011d17e94e22b8f860305f70a41c", "response_text": "Against his will, Harper is subject to a number of treatments at the hotel. He is dunked into mud baths for extensive periods of time. He is held in rancid smelling irradiated hot water. He is made to eat and drink strange concoctions. His stomach is pumped with food. They massage and exercise him. Harper hates all of this. It does do him good though. He notices that his skin which was once yellow, is now returning to a flesh colour. He can finally sleep well again also. When he returns to Earth, he is happy and energised for the first time in years. He looks fitter, and younger than he did before he left. \n"}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "396806fb81454d70a6d7a6905357a773", "response_text": "Harper was planning to simply relax, the hotel was beautiful and his appetite even returned. Due to a mistake he was put on a diet, being forced to eat some weird food and pumped out sometimes. He also goes through various mud baths, exercises, massages, and other tiresome procedures which make him sleep a lot. This resulted in his healthy skin color and appetite returning, but he was tired and angry at his helplessness. Those treatments made him so desperate that Harper switched rooms with another guest, took his huge clothes and went to the lobby to talk to the manager. That also results in his genius business idea and realization that he doesn't want robots around after all. \n"}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "5ad926ba2d7b4b7992f9cdb92191172a", "response_text": "Harper first goes through a surgery that pumps all of the food he eats out. Then, as the days go by, they take him to a stinking mud-bath and hold him there until he thinks that he is well-done to the bone. After, they soak him in foul, steaming irradiated water until he gags. He is also made to eat and drink weird concoctions under the watch of the robots. Harper also goes through rounds of purging, massaging, and exercise. The robots even take his phone, announcing that he would have no service for two weeks and give him a busy signal. The treatments leave him looking younger, but he is noticeably angrier. His anger and frustration mainly stems from the fact that he did not request any treatment in the first place. Many of these treatments have been done against his own will, and he desperately wants it to stop even though the robots do not listen. \n"}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "8001ea9cb4f54938b614769f42561c28", "response_text": "Robots first brought Harper to mud-baths by a wheel chair and held him there until he was well-done. Next, the robots soak him in foul, steaming irradiated water until he gags. Then, they brings concoctions for Harper to eat and drink, and they stands over him until he finishes consuming these concoctions. Lastly, they purge and massage and exercise him. Harper indeed begins to look flesh-colored. He starts to sleep for hours and get a better appetite than before."}]}, {"question_text": "Why has Ellis booked into the hotel, and what has his experience been like?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "106", "uid": "e771011d17e94e22b8f860305f70a41c", "response_text": "Jake Ellis is a man who works on the tundra, as one of the superintendents of the fungus plants. He booked into the hotel as his health has been on a decline because of his working conditions. The temperature in the factories are usually below freezing, he has to wear a pressure suit, the air quality is terrible and he has to live on processed food. He hoped to get treatment at the hotel, but since his arrival, he has been practically ignored by the staff, and left in his room. This is because the clerk switched his room key with Ellis'. When he meets Ellis and they decide to switch rooms, he finally gets his first treatment. "}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "396806fb81454d70a6d7a6905357a773", "response_text": "Ellis has been working in tundra with fungus plants. The job is extremely hard, the food is awful, the temperature is very low, impossible for a human to work at, but pays well. He booked the hotel to get treatment and he wants it badly, but he is stuck.  He feels bad after his work and needs treatment, his health in the tundra became weak, as he ate the bad food and was freezing and working bad. He needs a diet and warm baths now. The robots are unable to hear people and see the mistake, and the phone operator is a robot, so Ellis has no chance to get his treatment. Eventually, he is extremely happy as he switches rooms with Harper and gets what he wants."}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "5ad926ba2d7b4b7992f9cdb92191172a", "response_text": "Ellis books the hotel to receive treatment for himself. He lives on a constant diet of steak and turnips at the factory, which leads him to book the hotel in hopes of receiving treatment for his stomach. He also says that the air in the factory area is bad, the temperature is always freezing, pressure suits, huts, and processed food. He wants to relax after working in these harsh conditions for so long. However, his experience at the hotel has not been good so far. Ellis is constantly asking for treatment, but all of the robots ignore him. He even brings it down to the clerk to complain, but it is possible that they mixed his treatment information up with Harper. He is desperate, but none of the robots can change their programming to accommodate him\n"}, {"worker_id": "103", "uid": "8001ea9cb4f54938b614769f42561c28", "response_text": "Ellis booked into the hotel because he feels uncomfortable with his stomach. He thinks that was because of the steak and onions he ate after all that tundra dope he has been living on. While he does not feel well at all, he does not receive any treatments, and he is simply ignored by robots no matter what he does. When he is in the same room as Harper, the robot does not even acknowledge his existence. Every time he lifts the receiver of the room phone, only a robot voice answering, meaninglessly. He finally receives a treatment only because he switched room with Harper. "}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "51413", "uid": "cd79f936987e44da95c8ceaa4a3cb0d4", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "The Ignoble Savages\n \n \n By EVELYN E. SMITH\n \n Illustrated by DILLON\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction March 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n Snaddra had but one choice in its fight to afford to live belowground—underhandedly pretend theirs was an aboveboard society!\n \n\n \n \"Go Away from me, Skkiru,\" Larhgan said, pushing his hand off her arm.\n\"A beggar does not associate with the high priestess of Snaddra.\"\n \n \"But the Earthmen aren't due for another fifteen minutes,\" Skkiru protested.\n \n \"Of what importance are fifteen minutes compared to eternity!\" she exclaimed. Her lovely eyes fuzzed softly with emotion. \"You don't seem to realize, Skkiru, that this isn't just a matter of minutes or hours. It's forever.\"\n \n \n\n \n \"Forever!\" He looked at her incredulously. \"You mean we're going to keep this up as a permanent thing? You're joking!\"\n \n Bbulas groaned, but Skkiru didn't care about that. The sad, sweet way Larhgan shook her beautiful head disturbed him much more, and when she said, \"No, Skkiru, I am not joking,\" a tiny pang of doubt and apprehension began to quiver in his second smallest left toe.\n \n \"This is, in effect, good-by,\" she continued. \"We shall see each other again, of course, but only from a distance. On feast days, perhaps you may be permitted to kiss the hem of my robe ... but that will be all.\"\n \n Skkiru turned to the third person present in the council chamber.\n\"Bbulas, this is your fault! It was all your idea!\"\n \n There was regret on the Dilettante's thin face—an obviously insincere regret, the younger man knew, since he was well aware how Bbulas had always felt about the girl.\n \n \"I am sorry, Skkiru,\" Bbulas intoned. \"I had fancied you understood. This is not a game we are playing, but a new way of life we are adopting. A necessary way of life, if we of Snaddra are to keep on living at all.\"\n \n \"It's not that I don't love you, Skkiru,\" Larhgan put in gently, \"but the welfare of our planet comes first.\"\n \n \n\n \n She had been seeing too many of the Terrestrial fictapes from the library, Skkiru thought resentfully. There was too damn much Terran influence on this planet. And this new project was the last straw.\n \n No longer able to control his rage and grief, he turned a triple somersault in the air with rage. \"Then why was I made a beggar and she the high priestess? You arranged that purposely, Bbulas. You—\"\n \n \"Now, Skkiru,\" Bbulas said wearily, for they had been through all this before, \"you know that all the ranks and positions were distributed by impartial lot, except for mine, and, of course, such jobs as could carry over from the civilized into the primitive.\"\n \n Bbulas breathed on the spectacles he was wearing, as contact lenses were not considered backward enough for the kind of planet Snaddra was now supposed to be, and attempted to wipe them dry on his robe. However, the thick, jewel-studded embroidery got in his way and so he was forced to lift the robe and wipe all three of the lenses on the smooth, soft, spun metal of his top underskirt.\n \n \"After all,\" he went on speaking as he wiped, \"I have to be high priest, since I organized this culture and am the only one here qualified to administer it. And, as the president himself concurred in these arrangements, I hardly think you—a mere private citizen—have the right to question them.\"\n \n \"Just because you went to school in another solar system,\" Skkiru said, whirling with anger, \"you think you're so smart!\"\n \n \"I won't deny that I do have educational and cultural advantages which were, unfortunately, not available to the general populace of this planet. However, even under the old system, I was always glad to utilize my superior attainments as Official Dilettante for the good of all and now—\"\n \n \"Sure, glad to have a chance to rig this whole setup so you could break up things between Larhgan and me. You've had your eye on her for some time.\"\n \n Skkiru coiled his antennae at Bbulas, hoping the insult would provoke him into an unbecoming whirl, but the Dilettante remained calm. One of the chief outward signs of Terran-type training was self-control and Bbulas had been thoroughly terranized.\n  I hate Terrestrials , Skkiru said to himself. I hate Terra. The quiver of anxiety had risen up his leg and was coiling and uncoiling in his stomach. He hoped it wouldn't reach his antennae—if he were to break down and psonk in front of Larhgan, it would be the final humiliation.\n \n \"Skkiru!\" the girl exclaimed, rotating gently, for she, like her fiance—her erstwhile fiance, that was, for the new regime had caused all such ties to be severed—and every other literate person on the planet, had received her education at the local university. Although sound, the school was admittedly provincial in outlook and very poor in the emotional department. \"One would almost think that the lots had some sort of divine intelligence behind them, because you certainly are behaving in a beggarly manner!\"\n \n \"And I have already explained to you, Skkiru,\" Bbulas said, with a patience much more infuriating than the girl's anger, \"that I had no idea of who was to become my high priestess. The lots chose Larhgan. It is, as the Earthmen say, kismet.\"\n \n \n\n \n He adjusted the fall of his glittering robe before the great polished four-dimensional reflector that formed one wall of the chamber.\n  Kismet , Skkiru muttered to himself, and a little sleight of hand. But he didn't dare offer this conclusion aloud; the libel laws of Snaddra were very severe. So he had to fall back on a weak, \"And I suppose it is kismet that makes us all have to go live out on the ground during the day, like—like savages.\"\n \n \"It is necessary,\" Bbulas replied without turning.\n \n \"Pooh,\" Skkiru said. \"Pooh, pooh , POOH!\"\n \n Larhgan's dainty earflaps closed. \"Skkiru! Such language!\"\n \n \"As you said,\" Bbulas murmured, contemptuously coiling one antenna at Skkiru, \"the lots chose well and if you touch me, Skkiru, we shall have another drawing for beggar and you will be made a metal-worker.\"\n \n \"But I can't work metal!\"\n \n \"Then that will make it much worse for you than for the other outcasts,\" Bbulas said smugly, \"because you will be a pariah without a trade.\"\n \n \"Speaking of pariahs, that reminds me, Skkiru, before I forget, I'd better give you back your grimpatch—\" Larhgan handed the glittering bauble to him—\"and you give me mine. Since we can't be betrothed any longer, you might want to give yours to some nice beggar girl.\"\n \n \"I don't want to give my grimpatch to some nice beggar girl!\" Skkiru yelled, twirling madly in the air.\n \n \"As for me,\" she sighed, standing soulfully on her head, \"I do not think I shall ever marry. I shall make the religious life my career. Are there going to be any saints in your mythos, Bbulas?\"\n \n \"Even if there will be,\" Bbulas said, \"you certainly won't qualify if you keep putting yourself into a position which not only represents a trait wholly out of keeping with the new culture, but is most unseemly with the high priestess's robes.\"\n \n Larhgan ignored his unfeeling observations. \"I shall set myself apart from mundane affairs,\" she vowed, \"and I shall pretend to be happy, even though my heart will be breaking.\"\n \n It was only at that moment that Skkiru realized just how outrageous the whole thing really was. There must be another solution to the planet's problem. \"Listen—\" he began, but just then excited noises filtered down from overhead. It was too late.\n \n \"Earth ship in view!\" a squeaky voice called through the intercom.\n\"Everybody topside and don't forget your shoes.\"\n \n Except the beggar. Beggars went barefoot. Beggars suffered. Bbulas had made him beggar purposely, and the lots were a lot of slibwash.\n \n \"Hurry up, Skkiru.\"\n \n \n\n \n Bbulas slid the ornate headdress over his antennae, which, already gilded and jeweled, at once seemed to become a part of it. He looked pretty damn silly, Skkiru thought, at the same time conscious of his own appearance—which was, although picturesque enough to delight romantic Terrestrial hearts, sufficiently wretched to charm the most hardened sadist.\n \n \"Hurry up, Skkiru,\" Bbulas said. \"They mustn't suspect the existence of the city underground or we're finished before we've started.\"\n \n \"For my part, I wish we'd never started,\" Skkiru grumbled. \"What was wrong with our old culture, anyway?\"\n \n That was intended as a rhetorical question, but Bbulas answered it anyway. He always answered questions; it had never seemed to penetrate his mind that school-days were long since over.\n \n \"I've told you a thousand times that our old culture was too much like the Terrans' own to be of interest to them,\" he said, with affected weariness. \"After all, most civilized societies are basically similar; it is only primitive societies that differ sharply, one from the other—and we have to be different to attract Earthmen. They're pretty choosy. You've got to give them what they want, and that's what they want. Now take up your post on the edge of the field, try to look hungry, and remember this isn't for you or for me, but for Snaddra.\"\n \n \"For Snaddra,\" Larhgan said, placing her hand over her anterior heart in a gesture which, though devout on Earth—or so the fictapes seemed to indicate—was obscene on Snaddra, owing to the fact that certain essential organs were located in different areas in the Snaddrath than in the corresponding Terrestrial life-form. Already the Terrestrial influence was corrupting her, Skkiru thought mournfully. She had been such a nice girl, too.\n \n \"We may never meet on equal terms again, Skkiru,\" she told him, with a long, soulful glance that made his hearts sink down to his quivering toes, \"but I promise you there will never be anyone else for me—and I hope that knowledge will inspire you to complete cooperation with Bbulas.\"\n \n \"If that doesn't,\" Bbulas said, \"I have other methods of inspiration.\"\n \n \"All right,\" Skkiru answered sulkily. \"I'll go to the edge of the field, and I'll speak broken Inter-galactic, and I'll forsake my normal habits and customs, and I'll even beg . But I don't have to like doing it, and I don't intend to like doing it.\"\n \n All three of Larhgan's eyes fuzzed with emotion. \"I'm proud of you, Skkiru,\" she said brokenly.\n \n Bbulas sniffed. The three of them floated up to ground level in a triple silence.\n \n \n\n \n \"Alms, for the love of Ipsnadd,\" Skkiru chanted, as the two Terrans descended from the ship and plowed their way through the mud to meet a procession of young Snaddrath dressed in elaborate ceremonial costumes, and singing a popular ballad—to which less ribald, as well as less inspiring, words than the originals had been fitted by Bbulas, just in case, by some extremely remote chance, the Terrans had acquired a smattering of Snadd somewhere. Since neither party was accustomed to navigating mud, their progress was almost imperceptible.\n \n \"Alms, for the love of Ipsnadd,\" chanted Skkiru the beggar. His teeth chattered as he spoke, for the rags he wore had been custom-weatherbeaten for him by the planet's best tailor—now a pariah, of course, because Snadd tailors were, naturally, metal-workers—and the wind and the rain were joyously making their way through the demolished wires. Never before had Skkiru been on the surface of the planet, except to pass over, and he had actually touched it only when taking off and landing. The Snaddrath had no means of land transport, having previously found it unnecessary—but now both air-cars and self-levitation were on the prohibited list as being insufficiently primitive.\n \n The outside was no place for a civilized human being, particularly in the wet season or—more properly speaking on Snaddra—the wetter season. Skkiru's feet were soaked with mud; not that the light sandals worn by the members of the procession appeared to be doing them much good, either. It gave him a kind of melancholy pleasure to see that the privileged ones were likewise trying to repress shivers. Though their costumes were rich, they were also scanty, particularly in the case of the females, for Earthmen had been reported by tape and tale to be humanoid.\n \n As the mud clutched his toes, Skkiru remembered an idea he had once gotten from an old sporting fictape of Terrestrial origin and had always planned to experiment with, but had never gotten around to—the weather had always been so weathery, there were so many other more comfortable sports, Larhgan had wanted him to spend more of his leisure hours with her, and so on. However, he still had the equipment, which he'd salvaged from a wrecked air-car, in his apartment—and it was the matter of a moment to run down, while Bbulas was looking the other way, and get it.\n \n Bbulas couldn't really object, Skkiru stilled the nagging quiver in his toe, because what could be more primitive than any form of land transport? And even though it took time to get the things, they worked so well that, in spite of the procession's head start, he was at the Earth ship long before the official greeters had reached it.\n \n \n\n \n The newcomers were indeed humanoid, he saw. Only the peculiarly pasty color of their skins and their embarrassing lack of antennae distinguished them visibly from the Snaddrath. They were dressed much as the Snaddrath had been before they had adopted primitive garb.\n \n In fact, the Terrestrials were quite decent-looking life-forms, entirely different from the foppish monsters Skkiru had somehow expected to represent the cultural ruling race. Of course, he had frequently seen pictures of them, but everyone knew how easily those could be retouched. Why, it was the Terrestrials themselves, he had always understood, who had invented the art of retouching—thus proving beyond a doubt that they had something to hide.\n \n \"Look, Raoul,\" the older of the two Earthmen said in Terran—which the Snaddrath were not, according to the master plan, supposed to understand, but which most of them did, for it was the fashionable third language on most of the outer planets. \"A beggar. Haven't seen one since some other chaps and I were doing a spot of field work on that little planet in the Arcturus system—what was its name? Glotch, that's it. Very short study, it turned out to be. Couldn't get more than a pamphlet out of it, as we were unable to stay long enough to amass enough material for a really definitive work. The natives tried to eat us, so we had to leave in somewhat of a hurry.\"\n \n \"Oh, they were cannibals?\" the other Earthman asked, so respectfully that it was easy to deduce he was the subordinate of the two. \"How horrible!\"\n \n \"No, not at all,\" the other assured him. \"They weren't human—another species entirely—so you could hardly call it cannibalism. In fact, it was quite all right from the ethical standpoint, but abstract moral considerations seemed less important to us than self-preservation just then. Decided that, in this case, it would be best to let the missionaries get first crack at them. Soften them up, you know.\"\n \n \"And the missionaries—did they soften them up, Cyril?\"\n \n \"They softened up the missionaries, I believe.\" Cyril laughed. \"Ah, well, it's all in the day's work.\"\n \n \"I hope these creatures are not man-eaters,\" Raoul commented, with a polite smile at Cyril and an apprehensive glance at the oncoming procession— creatures indeed ! Skkiru thought, with a mental sniff.\n\"We have come such a long and expensive way to study them that it would be indeed a pity if we also were forced to depart in haste. Especially since this is my first field trip and I would like to make good at it.\"\n \n \"Oh, you will, my boy, you will.\" Cyril clapped the younger man on the shoulder. \"I have every confidence in your ability.\"\n \n Either he was stupid, Skkiru thought, or he was lying, in spite of Bbulas' asseverations that untruth was unknown to Terrestrials—which had always seemed highly improbable, anyway. How could any intelligent life-form possibly stick to the truth all the time? It wasn't human; it wasn't even humanoid; it wasn't even polite.\n \n \"The natives certainly appear to be human enough,\" Raoul added, with an appreciative glance at the females, who had been selected for the processional honor with a view to reported Terrestrial tastes. \"Some slight differences, of course—but, if two eyes are beautiful, three eyes can be fifty per cent lovelier, and chartreuse has always been my favorite color.\"\n  If they stand out here in the cold much longer, they are going to turn bright yellow. His own skin, Skkiru knew, had faded from its normal healthy emerald to a sickly celadon.\n \n \n\n \n Cyril frowned and his companion's smile vanished, as if the contortion of his superior's face had activated a circuit somewhere. Maybe the little one's a robot! However, it couldn't be—a robot would be better constructed and less interested in females than Raoul.\n \n \"Remember,\" Cyril said sternly, \"we must not establish undue rapport with the native females. It tends to detract from true objectivity.\"\n \n \"Yes, Cyril,\" Raoul said meekly.\n \n Cyril assumed a more cheerful aspect \"I should like to give this chap something for old times' sake. What do you suppose is the medium of exchange here?\"\n  Money , Skkiru said to himself, but he didn't dare contribute this piece of information, helpful though it would be.\n \n \"How should I know?\" Raoul shrugged.\n \n \"Empathize. Get in there, old chap, and start batting.\"\n \n \"Why not give him a bar of chocolate, then?\" Raoul suggested grumpily.\n\"The language of the stomach, like the language of love, is said to be a universal one.\"\n \n \"Splendid idea! I always knew you had it in you, Raoul!\"\n \n Skkiru accepted the candy with suitable—and entirely genuine—murmurs of gratitude. Chocolate was found only in the most expensive of the planet's delicacy shops—and now neither delicacy shops nor chocolate were to be found, so, if Bbulas thought he was going to save the gift to contribute it later to the Treasury, the \"high priest\" was off his rocker.\n \n To make sure there would be no subsequent dispute about possession, Skkiru ate the candy then and there. Chocolate increased the body's resistance to weather, and never before had he had to endure so much weather all at once.\n \n On Earth, he had heard, where people lived exposed to weather, they often sickened of it and passed on—which helped to solve the problem of birth control on so vulgarly fecund a planet. Snaddra, alas, needed no such measures, for its population—like its natural resources—was dwindling rapidly. Still, Skkiru thought, as he moodily munched on the chocolate, it would have been better to flicker out on their own than to descend to a subterfuge like this for nothing more than survival.\n \n \n\n \n Being a beggar, Skkiru discovered, did give him certain small, momentary advantages over those who had been alloted higher ranks. For one thing, it was quite in character for him to tread curiously upon the strangers' heels all the way to the temple—a ramshackle affair, but then it had been run up in only three days—where the official reception was to be held. The principal difficulty was that, because of his equipment, he had a little trouble keeping himself from overshooting the strangers. And though Bbulas might frown menacingly at him—and not only for his forwardness—that was in character on both sides, too.\n \n Nonetheless, Skkiru could not reconcile himself to his beggarhood, no matter how much he tried to comfort himself by thinking at least he wasn't a pariah like the unfortunate metal-workers who had to stand segregated from the rest by a chain of their own devising—a poetic thought, that was, but well in keeping with his beggarhood. Beggars were often poets, he believed, and poets almost always beggars. Since metal-working was the chief industry of Snaddra, this had provided the planet automatically with a large lowest caste. Bbulas had taken the easy way out.\n \n Skkiru swallowed the last of the chocolate and regarded the \"high priest\" with a simple-minded mendicant's grin. However, there were volcanic passions within him that surged up from his toes when, as the wind and rain whipped through his scanty coverings, he remembered the snug underskirts Bbulas was wearing beneath his warm gown. They were metal, but they were solid. All the garments visible or potentially visible were of woven metal, because, although there was cloth on the planet, it was not politic for the Earthmen to discover how heavily the Snaddrath depended upon imports.\n \n As the Earthmen reached the temple, Larhgan now appeared to join Bbulas at the head of the long flight of stairs that led to it. Although Skkiru had seen her in her priestly apparel before, it had not made the emotional impression upon him then that it did now, when, standing there, clad in beauty, dignity and warm clothes, she bade the newcomers welcome in several thousand words not too well chosen for her by Bbulas—who fancied himself a speech-writer as well as a speech-maker, for there was no end to the man's conceit.\n \n The difference between her magnificent garments and his own miserable rags had their full impact upon Skkiru at this moment. He saw the gulf that had been dug between them and, for the first time in his short life, he felt the tormenting pangs of caste distinction. She looked so lovely and so remote.\n \n \"... and so you are most welcome to Snaddra, men of Earth,\" she was saying in her melodious voice. \"Our resources may be small but our hearts are large, and what little we have, we offer with humility and with love. We hope that you will enjoy as long and as happy a stay here as you did on Nemeth....\"\n \n Cyril looked at Raoul, who, however, seemed too absorbed in contemplating Larhgan's apparently universal charms to pay much attention to the expression on his companion's face.\n \n \"... and that you will carry our affection back to all the peoples of the Galaxy.\"\n \n \n\n \n She had finished. And now Cyril cleared his throat. \"Dear friends, we were honored by your gracious invitation to visit this fair planet, and we are honored now by the cordial reception you have given to us.\"\n \n The crowd yoomped politely. After a slight start, Cyril went on, apparently deciding that applause was all that had been intended.\n \n \"We feel quite sure that we are going to derive both pleasure and profit from our stay here, and we promise to make our intensive analysis of your culture as painless as possible. We wish only to study your society, not to tamper with it in any way.\"\n  Ha, ha , Skkiru said to himself. Ha, ha, ha!\n \n \n \"But why is it,\" Raoul whispered in Terran as he glanced around out of the corners of his eyes, \"that only the beggar wears mudshoes?\"\n \n \"Shhh,\" Cyril hissed back. \"We'll find out later, when we've established rapport. Don't be so impatient!\"\n \n Bbulas gave a sickly smile. Skkiru could almost find it in his hearts to feel sorry for the man.\n \n \"We have prepared our best hut for you, noble sirs,\" Bbulas said with great self-control, \"and, by happy chance, this very evening a small but unusually interesting ceremony will be held outside the temple. We hope you will be able to attend. It is to be a rain dance.\"\n \n \"Rain dance!\" Raoul pulled his macintosh together more tightly at the throat. \"But why do you want rain? My faith, not only does it rain now, but the planet seems to be a veritable sea of mud. Not, of course,\" he added hurriedly as Cyril's reproachful eye caught his, \"that it is not attractive mud. Finest mud I have ever seen. Such texture, such color, such aroma!\"\n \n Cyril nodded three times and gave an appreciative sniff.\n \n \"But,\" Raoul went on, \"one can have too much of even such a good thing as mud....\"\n \n The smile did not leave Bbulas' smooth face. \"Yes, of course, honorable Terrestrials. That is why we are holding this ceremony. It is not a dance to bring on rain. It is a dance to stop rain.\"\n \n He was pretty quick on the uptake, Skkiru had to concede. However, that was not enough. The man had no genuine organizational ability. In the time he'd had in which to plan and carry out a scheme for the improvement of Snaddra, surely he could have done better than this high-school theocracy. For one thing, he could have apportioned the various roles so that each person would be making a definite contribution to the society, instead of creating some positions plums, like the priesthood, and others prunes, like the beggarship.\n \n What kind of life was that for an active, ambitious young man, standing around begging? And, moreover, from whom was Skkiru going to beg? Only the Earthmen, for the Snaddrath, no matter how much they threw themselves into the spirit of their roles, could not be so carried away that they would give handouts to a young man whom they had been accustomed to see basking in the bosom of luxury.\n \n \n\n \n Unfortunately, the fees that he'd received in the past had not enabled him both to live well and to save, and now that his fortunes had been so drastically reduced, he seemed in a fair way of starving to death. It gave him a gentle, moody pleasure to envisage his own funeral, although, at the same time, he realized that Bbulas would probably have to arrange some sort of pension for him; he could not expect Skkiru's patriotism to extend to abnormal limits. A man might be willing to die for his planet in many ways—but wantonly starving to death as the result of a primitive affectation was hardly one of them.\n \n All the same, Skkiru reflected as he watched the visitors being led off to the native hut prepared for them, how ignominious it would be for one of the brightest young architects on the planet to have to subsist miserably on the dole just because the world had gone aboveground. The capital had risen to the surface and the other cities would soon follow suit. Meanwhile, a careful system of tabus had been designed to keep the Earthmen from discovering the existence of those other cities.\n \n He could, of course, emigrate to another part of the planet, to one of them, and stave off his doom for a while—but that would not be playing the game. Besides, in such a case, he wouldn't be able to see Larhgan.\n \n As if all this weren't bad enough, he had been done an injury which struck directly at his professional pride. He hadn't even been allowed to help in planning the huts. Bbulas and some workmen had done all that themselves with the aid of some antique blueprints that had been put out centuries before by a Terrestrial magazine and had been acquired from a rare tape-and-book dealer on Gambrell, for, Skkiru thought, far too high a price. He could have designed them himself just as badly and much more cheaply.\n \n It wasn't that Skkiru didn't understand well enough that Snaddra had been forced into making such a drastic change in its way of life. What resources it once possessed had been depleted and—aside from minerals—they had never been very extensive to begin with. All life-forms on the planet were on the point of extinction, save fish and rice—the only vegetable that would grow on Snaddra, and originally a Terran import at that. So food and fiber had to be brought from the other planets, at fabulous expense, for Snaddra was not on any of the direct trade routes and was too unattractive to lure the tourist business.\n \n Something definitely had to be done, if it were not to decay altogether. And that was where the Planetary Dilettante came in.\n \n \n\n \n The traditional office of Planetary Dilettante was a civil-service job, awarded by competitive examination whenever it fell vacant to the person who scored highest in intelligence, character and general gloonatz. However, the tests were inadequate when it came to measuring sense of proportion, adaptiveness and charm—and there, Skkiru felt, was where the essential flaw lay. After all, no really effective test would have let a person like Bbulas come out on top.\n \n The winner was sent to Gambrell, the nearest planet with a Terran League University, to be given a thorough Terran-type education. No individual on Snaddra could afford such schooling, no matter how great his personal fortune, because the transportation costs were so immense that only a government could afford them. That was the reason why only one person in each generation could be chosen to go abroad at the planet's expense and acquire enough finish to cover the rest of the population.\n \n The Dilettante's official function had always been, in theory, to serve the planet when an emergency came—and this, old Luccar, the former President, had decided, when he and the Parliament had awakened to the fact that Snaddra was falling into ruin, was an emergency. So he had, after considerable soul-searching, called upon Bbulas to plan a method of saving Snaddra—and Bbulas, happy to be in the limelight at last, had come up with this program.\n \n It was not one Skkiru himself would have chosen. It was not one, he felt, that any reasonable person would have chosen. Nevertheless, the Bbulas Plan had been adopted by a majority vote of the Snaddrath, largely because no one had come up with a feasible alternative and, as a patriotic citizen, Skkiru would abide by it. He would accept the status of beggar; it was his duty to do so. Moreover, as in the case of the planet, there was no choice.\n \n But all was not necessarily lost, he told himself. Had he not, in his anthropological viewings—though Bbulas might have been the only one privileged to go on ethnological field trips to other planets, he was not the only one who could use a library—seen accounts of societies where beggarhood could be a rewarding and even responsible station in life? There was no reason why, within the framework of the primitive society Bbulas had created to allure Terran anthropologists, Skkiru should not make something of himself and show that a beggar was worthy of the high priestess's hand—which would be entirely in the Terran primitive tradition of romance.\n \n \"Skkiru!\" Bbulas was screaming, as he spun, now that the Terrans were out of ear- and eye-shot \"Skkiru, you idiot, listen to me! What are those ridiculous things you are wearing on your silly feet?\"\n \n Skkiru protruded all of his eyes in innocent surprise. \"Just some old pontoons I took from a wrecked air-car once. I have a habit of collecting junk and I thought—\"\n \n Bbulas twirled madly in the air. \"You are not supposed to think. Leave all the thinking to me!\"\n \n \"Yes, Bbulas,\" Skkiru said meekly.", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "c13e3bd0c91c41e19acf996dc20b97d0", "response_text": "qds-lb-writing-099be7bcf434f75d.elb.us-east-2.amazonaws.com/?uid=fbb302599a4a417fbc34eb1b65558c19\nThe Ignoble Savages by Evelyn E. Smith details the tale of a race on the brink of extinction and their strange attempt to save themselves. Snaddra is a rainy planet with a mud surface. Due to the harsh weather, the Snaddrath chose to build their cities underground. Their civilized culture allowed for excellence in the metal industry and architecture, however, their isolation caused for poor education and expensive trade deals. In the face of crisis, the Bbulas Plan emerged, a plot to move their capital aboveground to convince visiting Terrans of their primitive nature and need for help. \nIt begins with Skirru, an architect-turned-beggar, arguing with his former fiance, Larhgan, who is now the High Priestess. Their new jobs forbid marriage between the two, so Larhgan returns his grimpatch with regret. Bbulas, the new High Priest, watches gleefully, as he was in love with Larhgan all along. After much fighting, they levitate to the surface of the planet and wait for the Terrans to arrive. Now covered with huts, the new caste system emerges. Skirru is upset about his current position and feels ill. The woven metal clothes he was given to wear did not shield him from the light, so his green skin starts fading to yellow. \nThe Terrans arrive, Raoul and Cyril, to analyze the planet. Skirru begs in front of them, and they give him a chocolate bar, a delicacy on Snaddra. He eats it quickly, grateful for the treat as it restores health to sick Snaddrath. He remembers a pair of shoes he once got and dashes belowground to get them, returning with booted feet. Able to walk easier now, he follows the Terrans to the temple, where Bbulas and Larhgan are waiting. \nRaoul eyes the female Snaddrath hungrily. Cyril reminds him that they are there to investigate, not fraternize with the natives. Once there, Larhgan welcomes them with a long speech Bbulas wrote. Bbulas invites the Terrans to a rain dance, which they laugh at seeing as the planet is covered in mud. Bbulas recovers quickly and claims it’s a ceremony to stop the rain. Already, his plot to save his planet is falling apart. Raoul quickly notices that the beggar, Skkiru, is wearing mudshoes, which makes no sense. \nBbulas changes the subject and points them towards their hut, evidently the nicest one on Snaddra. He runs to Skkiru and angrily confronts him about his footwear. \n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "967c41320d6b4b8e8235818f8b182c8b", "response_text": "\n\tThe beings of Snaddra are hosting two Terrans who are coming to study their culture. The interest of the Terrans is extremely important because the planet’s population and natural resources are wasting away; they need the attention and resources that an anthropological study can provide. Bbulas, the Planetary Diletantte went to a Terran university on another planet after being selected for his highest intelligence score in the group tested with him. As Diletantte, he has been called upon to help solve the planet’s dilemma of saving itself. His plan, accepted because there were no better plans, involves restructuring the society and culture of the planet into one that he says the Terran anthropologists will find more intriguing than their real culture. He explains that this is because Terrans are most interested in societies that are different from their own, rather than like their own as Snaddrath really society is. He uses lots to assign roles in the society and ends up as the high priest, and the high priestess is Larhgan, a female he has been interested in for a long time but who was engaged to Skkiru. Skkiru has drawn the lot of a beggar and can no longer be engaged to Larhgan, and at the beginning of the story, he finds out that the changes Bbulas has instituted are actually going to be permanent. Bbulas threatens to make Skkiru a metal worker, the lowest position in the social hierarchy, if he doesn’t cooperate. Larhgan is sad that she will not be able to marry Skkiru and says she will not marry anyone at all but just devote her life to religion. \n\tWhen the Earth ship arrives with the Terrans, everyone goes to the surface to welcome them even though it is cold and raining. There is a reminder for everyone except beggars to wear shoes. They hold a welcoming ceremony, and the Terrans notice Skkiru, the beggar, so he begs from them. They aren’t sure what to give him, so they give him chocolate which is a real treat because Bbulas has closed all the chocolate shops. One Terran, Raoul, notices how beautiful Larhgan is, and the other, Cyril, reminds him they cannot establish friendships with the native females because it would prevent them from being objective. The Terrans thank the Shadds for their welcome and tell them they hope their stay will be pleasant and profitable. They intend to study the Shadds without doing anything to disturb their culture.\n\tThe Shadds desperately need the Terrans’ interest. The Shadds’ natural resources are nearly depleted, and their population is decreasing. The culture is getting close to being unsustainable. It can grow rice and catch fish but has to purchase all other food and fiber products from other planets, which is very expensive. Shadd doesn’t attract any tourists, so they are banking on the Terrans to help.\n"}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "b77eb6c7abdf47d6916fc2d0274fab91", "response_text": "Skkiru, who was once a great architect of Snaddra, must now pretend to be a beggar. His fiance, Larhgan, will play the role of High Priestess, and she must separate herself from him. In this make-believe world created by Bbulas, the Planetary Dilettante, the couple will never be able to see each other again. Bbulas has given out roles to each citizen of Snaddra, and the entire planet is depending on the scheme. Two anthropologists from Terran (Earth) have been invited to research the fake society in hopes that their attention will bring good fortune. Snaddra’s various life forms are nearing extinction, and they have few natural resources left. The planet is not attractive to tourists, and it’s too far out of the way to make trade routes profitable. \n\nSkkiru blames Bbulas for his breakup with Larhgran. Bbulas has always had feelings for Larhgan, so Skirru believes he put them in different castes on purpose. Bbula defends his choices as necessary for society’s survival, and Larhgan agrees. She loves Skkiru, but she cannot put her own relationship before her people. \n\nSkkiru hates the Terrans and has zero interest in living above ground like they do. He has never stepped foot on the surface of Snaddra, but everyone is being forced above ground. The Terrans’ ship comes into view, and everyone rushes to put shoes on. Although beggars are not allowed to wear shoes, Skkiru puts some on anyway. The underground city must be kept a secret from the Terrans. Bbulas’s plan involves looking primitive in order to gain sympathy.\n\nSkkiru is instructed to go to the field and look hungry. Two Terrans, Raoul and Cyril, leave their ship and approach a group of Snaddrath dressed in costumes singing songs. As soon as Raoul sees the female Snaddraths, Cyril sees a change in his face, and warns him that they must maintain objectivity. Then, Raoul and Cyril point their attention towards Skkiru. They would like to offer the poor beggar man something, but they’re not sure what. Raoul suggests a chocolate bar, and Skkiru eagerly accepts. His joy is fleeting, however, when he lays eyes on Larhgan, standing in her beautiful high priestess outfit, welcoming the Terrans with a speech written by Bbulas. He has never felt so lowly in his life. Skkiru hopes that he will have a chance to make something of himself and demonstrate his worthiness to Larhgan. The Terrans are infatuated with romance, after all. \n\nThe Terrans thank the Snaddrath for welcoming them, and they learn that they are invited to view a rain dance. Raoul questions why the Snaddrath would ever want more rain when it’s already muddy, and Bbulas changes the plan and explains that the rain dance is to make the rain stop. When Raoul and Cyril are led to their huts, Bbulas finds Skkiru and yells at him for putting on shoes. He reminds Skkiru to let him do all of the thinking. \n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "d1c82b4035d34c2599b020ba887772d0", "response_text": "The story begins in the middle of a discussion amongst Bbulas, Larhgan, and Skkiru. The three are Snaddrath of the planet Snaddra, and were preparing for the arrival of Terrans. Skkiru is upset; he is a beggar, but only by Bbulas' design: the society had been restructured to be more primitive for the sake of the eyes of the Terrans. Skkiru had been engaged to Larhgan, who would now serve as high priestess, but this difference in social status meant they could no longer be affiliated. They discuss some of the confusion and issues surrounding the plan, and all head outside when they hear the announcement that the Earthmen had arrived. It turned out that the Snaddrath lived in underground cities, but built some buildings above-ground where they would convince the Earthmen they actually lived. When they got to the surface, they saw the procession greeting the visitors, and started trying to navigate the huge amounts of mud on the surface. The Snaddrath could self-levitate, but didn't want to give this ability away so they made slow progress walking. Skkiru ran off to find his mud-shoes, and met everyone else at the ship. The Earthmen (the cultural ruling race) were talking about previous situations on other planets, not knowing that the Snaddrath could actually understand them. They offer Skkiru some chocolate, which he takes (it increases the body's resistance to weather, and was a delicacy). As this continues, Skkiru reflected on the rapid loss of population and resources on the planet and how the Terran visit has affected his planet. For instance, metal-working was the largest industry, so Bbulas made them the lowest caste when reorganizing the society, which Skkiru thought was an easy way out of a chance to be more creative. Eventually interacting with Larhgan, the Terrans express gratitude for the welcome they have received and expresses interest in learning from the Snaddrath, enjoying their stay, and to not affect the society as much as possible. Skkiru found humor in this, as the presence of the Earthmen is the only reason their society is structured the way it is currently. The Terrans are invited to a raindance, which confuses them, until Bbulas catches himself and says it's to stop the rain, not to get more. Skkiru continued to reflect: he hadn’t been able to live well and to save, so he didn't have savings. He was willing to play this game to avoid discovery of the truth by the Earthmen, with the careful systems of tabus to keep the visitors from discovering the underground cities, in part because he didn't want to leave Larhgan. The story ends with Bbulas yelling at Skkiru for having retrieved mudshoes and tells him not to think. "}]}, {"question_text": "What are the Terrans doing on Snaddra? What is the significance of their visit?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "c13e3bd0c91c41e19acf996dc20b97d0", "response_text": "The visiting Terrans, Cyril and Raoul, are visiting Snaddra to survey and analyze the native culture. Evidently, Terrans do this on planets across the universe, immersing themselves in the culture only to leave however many days, months, or years later with a full-fledged report. Their visit is significant because it may give the Snaddrath a chance to revitalize their economy and people. Due to their current lack of resources, muddy surface, and planetary isolation, the Snaddrath are facing extinction. They hope that by presenting themselves as a primitive civilization, the Terrans will be more inclined to establish trade with them and give them an economic boost. "}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "967c41320d6b4b8e8235818f8b182c8b", "response_text": "The Terran visit is of great significance to the Snaddrans. The Snaddran population is dying, and most of its resources are depleted. So Snaddra needs Terrans to be interested in their planet and civilization in order to secure assistance that will help them survive. The Terran anthropologists are coming to Snaddra to study the culture and ways of life of the natives. Bbulas believes that the Terrans will not be interested in the Snaddrans’ real society because it is too much like their own; therefore, he has orchestrated a plan that completely changes the society and the way they live in hopes of attracting the interest of the Earthmen who are visiting. The Terrans, on the other hand, believe that they will enjoy their stay and profit from their study of the Snaddrans and claim they can do so without disturbing their culture. \n"}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "b77eb6c7abdf47d6916fc2d0274fab91", "response_text": "The Terrans are on Snaddra to get a better understanding of the planet’s culture. Raoul and Cyril are anthropologists, and they have previously studied primitive cultures on other planets. They are not interested in studying societies that are very similar to their own. Instead, they prefer to look at cultures that are less advanced than the Terrans’. \n\nThe Terrans came to Snaddra after they were invited by Bbulas. Bbulas is the Planetary Dilettante, and he has been tasked with the difficult job of saving the planet. Snaddra is struggling without resources and no way of attracting tourists. Rice is the only vegetable that will grow there. Bbulas’s plan is to hide the Snaddrath’s underground cities and force the citizens to play roles in a caste system. They hide their technology and wear costumes and make up ceremonies in order to give the Terrans what Bbulas believes they want to see. Raoul and Cyril promise to be objective observers who do not meddle in the Snaddrath’s daily routines. \n\nBbulas has prepared for the Terrans’ visit by building a hut for them and forcing some of the citizens to learn a rain dance. When Raoul questions why they would ever want more rain because it’s already very wet and muddy outside, Bbulas thinks quickly and explains that the rain dance has the power to make the rain stop. In truth, the Snaddrath have never lived on the surface of the planet, so they understand very little about weather patterns. \n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "d1c82b4035d34c2599b020ba887772d0", "response_text": "\nThe Terrans are visiting Snaddra as part of a research mission. They are the \"cultural ruling race\", which means they have a lot of social influence in the sector, but they have not learned from many of the other races in the area. They want to enjoy their stay but also to gain something from it, but are careful to note that they have to be cautious in their relationships with the women who are native to the planet. It was apparently a long journey for them, and quite an expensive one at that, so they hope to make the most of their stay, even though they are not aware that they have walked into a fake version of the society they intend to study. They do not intend to affect the society they are visiting, but do not realize that they have done so in large ways already: in cultural influence, exports, and rice as a plant grown there to begin with. Perhaps one of the biggest influences is that of the restructuring of part of the Snaddrath society so that the Snaddrath think they will be more appealing to the Terrans as a focus of study. "}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the natives of Snaddra.", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "c13e3bd0c91c41e19acf996dc20b97d0", "response_text": "The natives of Snaddra are a very civilized race, progressing beyond what life on Earth is like now. They live underground, due to the terrible weather on the surface of the planet, and have built extensive cities and tunnels. They designed flying cars to use on the surface, and they have the capability to levitate. \nTheir outward appearance is somewhat humanoid, though there are some very distinct and different features. For one, the natives have antennae, as well as green skin. When healthy, their skin is a beautiful emerald green color, but if they grow ill it will become more yellow. The Snaddrath also have three eyes, requiring spectacles to have three individual lenses. When upset, anxious, or provoked, they have a tendency to twirl mid-air. If a Snaddrath falls in love with another, they give their lover their grimpatch, a beautiful bauble, to indicate their dedication. Many Snaddrath work in the metal industry since some of the few resources left on the planet are minerals. \n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "967c41320d6b4b8e8235818f8b182c8b", "response_text": "The natives of Snaddra look very much like humans, except they have antennae, three eyes, and earflaps that they can open and close. Snaddrans have two hearts, and their essential organs are placed differently from humans’. They speak Snadd but also learn English as their third language. They are intelligent and civilized, with a president, parliament, and a local university. When upset, they turn a triple somersault in the air and coil their antennae to insult another Snaddran. They can move by floating or self-levitating. Snaddrans form relationships much the same way that humans do, falling in love and marrying. They have emotions including love, sadness, jealousy, and pride.\n"}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "b77eb6c7abdf47d6916fc2d0274fab91", "response_text": "The natives of Snaddra are under great stress. They are deeply concerned about their survival and are willing to do almost anything in order to save themselves. The creatures live underground and have never been to the surface of the planet. However, Bbulas’s plan involves proving to the Terrans that they are a primitive population with very little going for them, so they create a less advanced society above ground. Bbulas actually wears contact lenses, but in the new down-and-out society he has created, he cannot be seen wearing them. He must put on glasses in order to convince the Terrans that Snaddra is not a place of great wealth. All of the citizens are forced to dress in carefully crafted rags by society’s most notable tailor, and the costumes are deeply uncomfortable in the rain and wind on the surface of the planet. This is especially true since the people have never been exposed to the elements before. Bbulas, however, wears warm underskirts under his robes. He believes it’s important to keep imports like certain types of clothes secret from the Terrans. \n\nThe Snaddraths do not actually live in huts, but Bbulas had some built in order to convince the Terrans that they have very little technology and are in need of more advanced peoples to teach them their ways. \n\nAt one point, Skkiru remembers that the libel laws in Snaddra are very severe, so he can not openly criticize Bbula or his master plan without facing severe punishment. The planet’s government has a very top-down approach to ruling. The parliament selected Bbulas to be the only person in his generation to get a Terran education on another planet, and they have left the survival of Snaddra completely up to himi. \n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "d1c82b4035d34c2599b020ba887772d0", "response_text": "The natives of Snaddra are an advanced species who live in underground cities on a planet whose surface is extremely muddy and rainy. They have antennae, three eyes, and emerald green skin which becomes more pale if they are sick or malnourished. They are humanoid but have their organs in different places from Terrans. They have interesting reactions to food, such as chocolate helping provide resistance to weather. They are able to levitate on their own, but also have developed technology like air-cars and spaceships, and fourth-dimensional reflectors that can serve as walls. We know that they are an advanced species despite what the Terrestrians encounter because the Snaddrath have re-invented their society to be more primitive than they actually are. The reasoning behind this is that they want the Earthmen to take an interest in them, but if most civilized societies are about the same, they have to be a more primitive society for the Earthmen to care enough to want to learn more. The primary trade on the planet is metal work, and the lack of natural resources means that the Snaddrath have to rely heavily on trade with other planets in the system, especially for things like fabric. It is not only the level of resources that is dwindling, but the population as well. They have strong education systems of their own, and easy access to library resources, but they send one person per generation off-world to get a Terran education. The Snaddrath are considered more emotionally driven than humans, at least in that the focus of their education does not include as much on emotional regulation, so there are visible temperament differences between these groups."}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the setting of the story, Snaddra.", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "c13e3bd0c91c41e19acf996dc20b97d0", "response_text": "Snaddra is a planet leagues away from many other solar systems. Its isolation and general lack of resources has left the planet as a whole in a terrible situation. Snaddra has two seasons: wet and wetter season. Raining practically every day, the surface of the planet is covered in mud. Because of the muddy surface and difficult weather, the Snaddrath have built cities underground and truly thrived there. Skkiru, one of the main characters, is an architect, and supposedly helped to build underground buildings and cities. Their futuristic lifestyle is threatened, however, by a lack of resources. The only crop that can grow on Snaddra is rice, brought in by Terrans, and much of the native animals and fish are dying out. The one commodity and resource left is minerals. However, the constant importation of foreign goods depleted their economy, leaving the Snaddrath between a rock and a hard place. \nBbulas, the Planetary Dilettante, developed the Bbulas Plan to save Snaddra from ruin. He designed a whole aboveground world, new garbs for citizens, as well as an entirely new culture. He believes, as does most of Snaddra, that a primitive culture will draw Terrans in more than an equally advanced and civilized one. So, the story mostly takes place on the surface of Snaddra, now covered in huts. \n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "967c41320d6b4b8e8235818f8b182c8b", "response_text": "On Snaddra, it rains almost all the time, and the surface is covered with thick, deep, murky mud. The temperature is uncomfortably cool. They have advanced technology in their air-cars. In addition to a president and parliament, the natives have a Planetary Dilettante. This civil-service position is filled by a Snaddran who has the highest intelligence score on a competitive examination. The winner attends university on Gambrell, which is the nearest planet with a Terran League University, to receive a Terran education. This is so expensive that only one person per generation can be awarded this opportunity. The Diletantte’s role is to help the planet in times of emergency. Presumably, the Diletantte’s superior intellect and education enable him to determine the best ways to handle the emergencies that arise. Snaddrans live underground, perhaps because of the unpleasant conditions on the planet’s surface where it rains almost constantly, and the ground is all mud. Snaddra’s population and natural resources are quickly dwindling, and its main natural resource has been minerals. Life forms on the planet are on the verge of extinction, and the only food the planet produces is fish and rice. Other foods and materials must be imported from other planets, which is extremely expensive because Snaddra is not located along direct trade routes. The planet also doesn’t attract tourists. The society has just been transformed in preparation for the arrival of the Terrans who want to study them. Now the society features a high priest and priestess. All the metal workers have been made outcasts, and beggars are just slightly higher than the metal workers. \n"}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "b77eb6c7abdf47d6916fc2d0274fab91", "response_text": "Snaddra, the planet where the story takes place, is in deep trouble. The Snaddrath who live underground, are forced to take a chance on the Planetary Dilettante’s plan to save the society. \nThe population of Snaddra is decreasing rapidly, there are almost zero natural resources left, and creatures from other planets are not interested in visiting Snaddra for tourism or trading purposes. Food and other resources have to be purchased from other planets, and that is a highly expensive endeavor. Metal-working is the most important industry they have, yet metal-workers are looked at as the lowliest of the Snaddraths. Instead of being thankful for their hardest and most important workers, they treat them very poorly. \n\nWhen Raoul offers Skkiru a chocolate bar, he happily accepts the gift. This is because chocolate is only available in very expensive shops, and Skkiru has had very few opportunities to taste the delicacy. \n\nThe surface of Snaddra is virtually untouched because all of society lives in underground cities. When the citizens embark on their new mission to convince the Terran that they live primitive lives on the surface, they are wholly unprepared to deal with the rainy and windy weather. The nonstop precipitation means that everyone is standing in mud, and their costumes do not adequately protect them from the harsh conditions. \n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "d1c82b4035d34c2599b020ba887772d0", "response_text": "Snaddra is a muddy and rainy planet with limited natural resources, and a race of people who live in underground cities. There is so much mud that neither the Terrans nor the Snaddrath can move very quickly on the surface. The depleting resources of the planet means that there are only a few things that can grow on the surface, rice and fish. Rice is itself an import from Earth, and a lot of resources are acquired through trade. The Snaddrath people live in underground cities, but they have erected buildings on the surface as well for the sake of their plan to convince the Earthmen of their facade. "}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Bbulas, and what happens to him throughout the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "c13e3bd0c91c41e19acf996dc20b97d0", "response_text": "Bbulas, a Snaddrath, was chosen as a young boy to attend a Terran school on Gambrell. This Terran League University was far too expensive for any Snaddrath to afford, not only due to tuition costs. The travel expenses alone were outrageous. And so, only one student per generation would receive funds to attend. Since Bbulas was schooled there, he has more Terran tendencies than his brethren, such as his ability to not show emotions or keep from whirling when upset. \nAfter attending university, he was selected to work as the Planetary Dilettante. This selection process involves testing Snaddrath in a variety of subjects. Evidently, Bbulas’ scores were the highest, so when President Luccar declared a state of emergency, he chose Bbulas to fix the situation at hand. \nBbulas designed the Bbulas Plan to solve Snaddra’s economic downfall. His ultimate goal was to entice Terrans to come to Snaddra and support the planet with foreign trade. In order to do so, he decided to completely redesign their entire culture and move their capital aboveground. Bbulas believes that Terrans will be more likely to help if Snaddra is primitive in nature. \nThe story begins with an argument between Skkiru, Larhgan, and Bbulas. Bbulas elected himself High Priest in the new world, and the lots elected Larhgan to be the High Priestess. Skkiru, her fiance, was to be a beggar, sot hey could no longer be together, much to Bbulas’ delight. \nAfter passively threatening Skkiru, the three rise to the surface and ready themselves for the Terrans’ arrival. \nBbulas welcomes the Terrans at the temple and invites them to a stop-the-rain ceremony. He sends the Terrans to their hut and then becomes upset at Skkiru for wearing mud shoes when he is supposed to be a beggar. \n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "967c41320d6b4b8e8235818f8b182c8b", "response_text": "Bbulas is the Planetary Diletantte who has just overhauled the Snaddran society in preparation for the Terrans’ study. He has done away with the president and parliament, replacing them with himself as high priest and a female high priestess. He has created elaborate rules and a new social hierarchy with all the roles assigned by lots, although some Snadds doubt the fairness of the lot-drawing. He has also made the Snadds move from underground to above ground even though the surface of the planet is covered with thick mud from the constant rain. Bbulas considers himself superior due to his education and thinks he is talented in multiple ways, including speechwriting and even building shelters. He anticipated the Terrans’ interests and makes sure the females are scantily clad and rewrites the words to their popular songs to make them less suggestive in case the Terrans have learned any Snadd. The majority of the Snaddrath voted to adopt Bbulas’s plan because no one else had come up with a better one. \n"}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "b77eb6c7abdf47d6916fc2d0274fab91", "response_text": "Bbulas is a pompous and conceited man, and he fancies himself very important. He was chosen by the government as the only person from Snaddra to get a Terran education on the planet of Gambrell. Not a single citizen can afford the expenses associated with interplanetary travel, so Bbulas’s opportunity is looked at as once-in-a-lifetime. \n\nBbulas takes advantage of his position as an elite. Although he claims that in the program he created, each individual’s position was selected randomly, he openly acknowledges that he was the only person who could possibly pose as the high priest. When Skkiru complains about having to pose as a beggar when he was once a successful architect, Bbulas immediately threatens to turn him into a metal-worker, a member of the lowest caste system, instead. He is completely unconcerned about the breakup of Skkiru and Lahgran’s relationship and simply reminds Skkiru that he must make sacrifices for the good of the planet. Skkiru knows that Bbulas has had his eyes on his fiance for quite some time, so it’s no surprise that Bbulas have given her a role where he will get to spend loads of time with her. \n\nSkkiru definitely doesn’t approve of Bbulas as the Planetary Dilettante and believes he passed the examination because the exam itself was deeply flawed. He believes someone with more charm and adaptiveness should be in charge of society’s survival, and he isn’t impressed with Bbula’s grand scheme to win over the Terran anthropologists. When he hears Lahrgran making her speech as High Priestess, he instantly recognizes that Bbulas was the speechwriter and complains that it’s far too long and involved. Bbulas is undeniably interested in hearing himself speak and truly believes that it is he alone who can save the Snaddrath from a terrible fate. \n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "d1c82b4035d34c2599b020ba887772d0", "response_text": "Bbulas is a member of the Snaddrath race, the group of people who live on Snaddra. He has a particular role in the society as the Planetary Dilettante, which means he is the one person in his generation who was afforded an off-world education where he could learn from the Terran style system, which focuses more on emotional regulation than the native training. He was educated on Gambrell, a nearby planet which has a Terran League University. The government can only afford to send one person per generation to receive this kind of schooling so it is considered a high honor. The Dilettante is the one on standby for when there are emergencies, and the President decided that the arrival of the Earthmen was such an emergency. In order to prepare for the arrival of the Terrans, he set up everything necessary to fool the Terrans into thinking the Snaddrath were more primitive than they actually were. He was the one who restructured society so that the metal workers were the lower class, as they were the most populous group of people, and assigned Skkiru the role of a beggar which forced him to break off his engagement with Larhgan as she was assigned the high priestess role. This is especially angering to Skkiru because Bbulas assigned himself the high priest role. Skkiru is frustrated with Bbulas for making him a beggar and also disappointed because he thinks he could have been more creative in his set-up of a new society, especially being as intelligent as he was. He used blueprints from a Terrestrial magazine to build some of the above-ground features, instead of designing his own, for instance. At the beginning of the story, he is bickering with Skkiru about the fact that Skkiru is now a beggar, and all of the issues that come for Skkiru with that. He eventually led Skkiru and Larhgan to the surface of the planet when they received notice that the Earthmen had arrived, and focused on greeting these visitors. After a procession is completed, at the end of this excerpt of the story, he is yelling at Skkiru in an attempt to show his power over him, insisting that Skkiru not think for himself and just abide by the guidelines Bbulas puts forth. \n"}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "49897", "uid": "6d26a8f97bf74b2982ef0f8b7c2e7f12", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "The Gravity Business\n \n \n By JAMES E. GUNN\n \n Illustrated by ASHMAN\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy January 1956. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n This little alien beggar could dictate his own terms, but how could he—and how could anyone find out what those terms might be?\n \n\n \n The flivver descended vertically toward the green planet circling the old, orange sun.\n \n It was a spaceship, but not the kind men had once dreamed about. The flivver was shaped like a crude bullet, blunt at one end of a fat cylinder and tapering abruptly to a point at the other. It had been slapped together out of sheet metal and insulation board, and it sold, fully equipped, for $15,730. It didn't behave like a spaceship, either.\n \n As it hurtled down, its speed increased with dramatic swiftness. Then, at the last instant before impact, it stopped. Just like that.\n \n A moment later, it thumped a last few inches into the ankle-deep grass and knee-high white flowers of the meadow. It was a shock of a jar that made the sheet-metal walls boom like thunder machines. The flivver rocked unsteadily on its flat stern before it decided to stay upright.\n \n Then all was quiet—outside.\n \n Inside the big, central cabin, Grampa waved his pircuit irately in the air. \"Now look what you made me do! Just when I had the blamed thing practically whipped, too!\"\n \n \n\n \n\n \n Grampa was a white-haired 90-year-old who could still go a fast round or two with a man (or woman) half his age, but he had a habit of lapsing into tantrum when he got annoyed.\n \n \"Now, Grampa,\" Fred soothed, but his face was concerned. Fred, once called Young Fred, was Grampa's only son. He was sixty and his hair had begun to gray at the temples. \"That landing was pretty rough, Junior.\"\n \n \n\n \n Junior was Fred's only son. Because he was thirty-five and capable of exercising adult judgment and because he had the youngest adult reflexes, he sat in the pilot's chair, the control stick between his knees, his thumb still over the Off-On button on top. \"I know it, Fred,\" he said, frowning. \"This world fooled me. It has a diameter less than that of Mercury and yet a gravitational pull as great as Earth.\"\n \n Grampa started to say something, but an 8-year-old boy looked up from the navigator's table beside the big computer and said, \"Well, gosh, Junior, that's why we picked this planet. We fed all the orbital data into Abacus, and Abacus said that orbital perturbations indicated that the second planet was unusually heavy for its size. Then Fred said,\n'That looks like heavy metals', and you said, 'Maybe uranium—'\"\n \n \"That's enough, Four,\" Junior interrupted. \"Never mind what I said.\"\n \n Those were the Peppergrass men, four generations of them, looking remarkably alike, although some vital element seemed to have dwindled until Four looked pale and thin-faced and wizened.\n \n \"And, Four,\" Reba said automatically, \"don't call your father 'Junior.' It sounds disrespectful.\"\n \n Reba was Four's mother and Junior's wife. On her own, she was a red-haired beauty with the loveliest figure this side of Antares. That Junior had won her was, to Grampa, the most hopeful thing he had ever noticed about the boy.\n \n \"But everybody calls Junior 'Junior,'\" Four complained. \"Besides, Fred is Junior's father and Junior calls him 'Fred.'\"\n \n \"That's different,\" Reba said.\n \n Grampa was still waving his puzzle circuit indignantly. \"See!\" The pircuit was a flat box equipped with pushbuttons and thirteen slender openings in the top. One of the openings was lighted. \"That landing made me push the wrong button and the dad-blasted thing beat me again.\"\n \n \"Stop picking on Junior,\" Joyce said sharply. She was Junior's mother and Fred's wife, still slim and handsome as she approached sixty, but somehow ice water had replaced the warm blood in her veins. \"I'm sure he did the best he could.\"\n \n \"Anybody talks about gravitational pull,\" Grampa said, snorting,\n\"deserves anything anybody could say about him. There's no such thing, Junior. You ought to know by now that gravitation is the effect of the curving of space-time around matter. Einstein proved that two hundred years ago.\"\n \n \"Go back to your games, Grampa,\" Fred said impatiently. \"We've got work to do.\"\n \n \n\n \n Grampa knitted his bushy, white eyebrows and petulantly pushed the last button on his pircuit. The last light went out. \"You've got work to do, have you? Whose flivver do you think this is, anyhow?\"\n \n \"It belongs to all of us,\" Four said shrilly. \"You gave us all a sixth share.\"\n \n \"That's right, Four,\" Grampa muttered, \"so I did. But whose money bought it?\"\n \n \"You bought it, Grampa,\" Fred said.\n \n \"That's right! And who invented the gravity polarizer and the space flivver? Eh? Who made possible this gallivanting all over space?\"\n \n \"You, Grampa,\" Fred said.\n \n \"You bet! And who made one hundred million dollars out of it that the rest of you vultures are just hanging around to gobble up when I die?\"\n \n \"And who spent it all trying to invent perpetual motion machines and longevity pills,\" Joyce said bitterly, \"and fixed it so we'd have to go searching for uranium and habitable worlds all through this deadly galaxy? You, Grampa!\"\n \n \"Well, now,\" Grampa protested, \"I got a little put away yet. You'll be sorry when I'm dead and gone.\"\n \n \"You're never going to die, Grampa,\" Joyce said harshly. \"Just before we left, you bought a hundred-year contract with that Life-Begins-At-Ninety longevity company.\"\n \n \"Well, now,\" said Grampa, blinking, \"how'd you find out about that? Well, now!\" In confusion, he turned back to the pircuit and jabbed a button. Thirteen slim lights sprang on. \"I'll get you this time!\"\n \n Four stretched and stood up. He looked curiously into the corner by the computer where Grampa's chair stood. \"You brought that pircuit from Earth, didn't you? What's the game?\"\n \n Grampa looked up, obviously relieved to drop his act of intense concentration. \"I'll tell you, boy. You play against the pircuit, taking turns, and you can put out one, two or three lights. The player who makes the other one turn out the last light is the winner.\"\n \n \"That's simple,\" Four said without hesitation. \"The winning strategy is to—\"\n \n \"Don't be a kibitzer!\" Grampa snapped. \"When I need help, I'll ask for it. No dad-blamed machine is gonna outthink Grampa!\" He snorted indignantly.\n \n \n\n \n Four shrugged his narrow shoulders and wandered to the view screen. Within it was the green horizon, curving noticeably. Four angled the picture in toward the ship, sweeping through green, peaceful woodland and plain and blue lake until he stared down into the meadow at the flivver's stern.\n \n \"Look!\" he said suddenly. \"This planet not only has flora—it has fauna.\" He rushed to the air lock.\n \n \"Four!\" Reba called out warningly.\n \n \"It's all right, Reba,\" Four assured her. \"The air is within one per cent of Earth-normal and the bio-analyzer can find no micro-organisms viable within the Terran spectrum.\"\n \n \"What about macro-organisms—\" Reba began, but the boy was gone already. Reba's face was troubled. \"That boy!\" she said to Junior.\n\"Sometimes I think we've made a terrible mistake with him. He should have friends, play-mates. He's more like a little old man than a boy.\"\n \n But Junior nodded meaningfully at Fred and disappeared into the chart room. Fred followed casually. Then, as the door slid shut behind him, he asked impatiently. \"Well, what's all the mystery?\"\n \n \"No use bothering the others yet,\" Junior said, his face puzzled. \"You see, I didn't let the flivver drop those last few inches. The polarizer quit.\"\n \n \"Quit!\"\n \n \"That's not the worst. I tried to take it up again. The flivver—it won't budge!\"\n \n \n\n \n The thing was a featureless blob, a two-foot sphere of raspberry gelatin, but it was alive. It rocked back and forth in front of Four. It opened a raspberry-color pseudo-mouth and said plaintively, \"Fweep? Fweep?\"\n \n Joyce drew her chair farther back toward the wall, revulsion on her face. \"Four! Get that nasty thing out of here!\"\n \n \n\n \n\n \n \"You mean Fweep?\" Four asked in astonishment.\n \n \"I mean that thing, whatever you call it.\" Joyce fluttered her hand impatiently. \"Get it out!\"\n \n Four's eyes widened farther. \"But Fweep's my friend.\"\n \n \"Nonsense!\" Joyce said sharply. \"Earthmen don't make friends with aliens. And that's nothing but a—a blob!\"\n \n \"Fweep?\" queried the raspberry lips. \"Fweep?\"\n \n \"If it's Four's friend,\" Reba said firmly, \"it can stay. If you don't like to be around it, Grammy, you can always go to your own room.\"\n \n Joyce stood up indignantly. \"Well! And don't call me 'Grammy!' It makes me sound as old as that old goat over there!\" She glared malignantly at Grampa. \"If you'd rather have that blob than me—well!\" She swept grandly out of the central cabin and into one of the private rooms that opened out from it.\n \n \"Fweep?\" asked the blob.\n \n \"Sure,\" Four said. \"Go ahead, fweep—I mean sweep.\"\n \n Swiftly the sphere rolled across the floor. Behind it was left a narrow path of sparkling clean tile.\n \n Grampa glanced warily at Joyce's door to make sure it was completely closed and then cocked a white eyebrow at Reba. \"Good for you, Reba!\" he said admiringly. \"For forty years now, I've wanted to do that. Never had the nerve.\"\n \n \"Why, thanks, Grampa,\" Reba said, surprised.\n \n \"I like you, gal. Never forget it.\"\n \n \"I like you, too, Grampa. If you'd been a few years younger, Junior would have had competition!\"\n \n \"You bet he would!\" Grampa leaned back and cackled. Then he leaned over confidentially toward Reba and whispered, \"Beats me why you ever married a jerk like Junior, anyhow.\"\n \n Reba looked thoughtfully toward the airlock door. \"Maybe I saw something in him nobody else saw, the man he might become. He's been submerged in this family too long; he's still a child to all of you and to himself, too.\" Reba smiled at Grampa brilliantly. \"And maybe I thought he might grow into a man like his grandfather.\"\n \n \n\n \n Grampa turned red and looked quickly toward Four. The boy was staring intently at Fweep. \"What you doing, Four?\"\n \n \"Trying to figure out what Fweep does with the sweepings,\" Four said absently. \"The outer inch or two of his body gets cloudy and then slowly clears. I think I'll try him with a bigger particle.\"\n \n \"That's the idea, Four. You'll be a Peppergrass yet. How about building me a pircuit?\"\n \n \"You get the other one figured out?\"\n \n \"It was easy,\" Grampa said breezily, \"once you understood the principle. The player who moved second could always win if he used the right strategy. Dividing the thirteen lights into three sections of four each—\"\n \n \"That's right,\" Four agreed. \"I can make you a new one by cannibalizing the other pircuit, but I'll need a few extra parts.\"\n \n Grampa pushed the wall beside his chair and a drawer slid out of it.\n \n Inside were row after row of nipple-topped, flat-sided, flexible free-fall bottles and a battered cigar box. \"Thought you'd say that,\" he said, picking out the box. \"Help yourself.\" With the other hand, he lifted out one of the bottles and took a long drag on it. \"Ahhh!\" he sighed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and carefully put the bottle away.\n \n \"What is that stuff you drink, Grampa?\" Four asked.\n \n \"Tonic, boy. Keeps me young and frisky. Now about that pircuit—\"\n \n \"Did you ever work on Niccolò Tartaglia's puzzle about the three lovely brides, the three jealous husbands, the river and the two-passenger rowboat?\"\n \n \"Yep,\" Grampa said. \"Too easy.\"\n \n Four thought a moment. \"There's a modern variation with three missionaries and three cannibals. Same river, same rowboat and only one of the cannibals can row. If the cannibals outnumber the missionaries—\"\n \n \"Sounds good, boy,\" Grampa said eagerly. \"Whip it up for me.\"\n \n \"Okay, Grampa.\" Four looked at Fweep again. The translucent sphere had paused at Grampa's feet.\n \n Grampa reached down to pat it. For an instant, his hand disappeared into Fweep, and then the alien creature rolled away. This time its path seemed crooked.\n \n Its gelatinous form jiggled. \"Hic!\" it said.\n \n \n\n \n As if in response, the flivver vibrated. Grampa looked querulously toward the airlock. \"Flivver shouldn't shake like that. Not with the polarizer turned on.\"\n \n The airlock door swung inward. Through the oval doorway walked Fred, followed closely by Junior. They were sweat-stained and weary, scintillation counters dangling heavily from their belts.\n \n \"Any luck?\" Reba asked brightly.\n \n \"Do we look it?\" Junior grumbled.\n \n \"Where's Joyce?\" asked Fred. \"Might as well get everybody in on this at once. Joyce!\"\n \n The door to his wife's room opened instantly. Behind it, Joyce was regal and slim. The pose was spoiled immediately by her avid question:\n\"Any uranium? Radium? Thorium?\"\n \n \"No,\" Fred said slowly, \"and no other heavy metals, either. There's a few low-grade iron deposits and that's it.\"\n \n \"Then what makes this planet so heavy?\" Reba asked.\n \n Junior shrugged helplessly and collapsed into a chair. \"Your guess is as good as anybody's.\"\n \n \"Then we've wasted another week on a worthless rock,\" Joyce complained. She turned savagely on Fred. \"This was going to make us all filthy rich. We were going to find radioactives and retire to Earth like billionaires. And all we've done is spent a year of our lives in this cramped old flivver—and we don't have many of them to spare!\" She glared venomously at Grampa.\n \n \"We've still got Fweepland,\" Four said solemnly.\n \n \"Fweepland?\" Reba repeated.\n \n \"This planet. It's not big, but it's fertile and it's harmless. As real estate, it's worth almost as much as if it were solid uranium.\"\n \n \"A good thing, too,\" Junior said glumly, \"because this looks like the end of our search. Short of a miracle, we'll spend the rest of our lives right here—involuntary colonists.\"\n \n Joyce spun on him. \"You're joking!\" she screeched.\n \n \"I wish I were,\" Junior said. \"But the polarizer won't work. Either it's broken or there's something about the gravity around here that just won't polarize.\"\n \n \"It's these '23 models,\" Grampa put in disgustedly. \"They never were any good.\"\n \n \n\n \n The land of the Fweep turned slowly on its axis. The orange sun set and rose again and stared down once more at the meadow where the improbable spaceship rested on its improbable stern. The sixteen Earth hours that the rotation had taken had changed nothing inside the ship, either.\n \n Grampa looked up from his pircuit and said, \"If I were you, Junior, I would take a good look at the TV repairman when we get back to Earth. If we get back to Earth,\" he amended. \"You can't be Four's father. All over the Universe, gravity is the same, and if it's gravity, the polarizer will polarize it.\"\n \n \"That's just supposition,\" Junior said stubbornly. \"The fact is, it isn't because it doesn't. Q.E.D.\"\n \n \"Maybe the polarizer is broken,\" Fred suggested.\n \n Grampa snorted. \"Broken-shmoken. Nothing to break, Young Fred. Just a few coils of copper wire and they're all right. We checked. We know the power plant is working: the lights are on, the air and water recirculation systems are going, the food resynthesizer is okay. And, anyway, the polarizer could work from the storage battery if it had to.\"\n \n \"Then it goes deeper,\" Junior insisted. \"It goes right to the principle of polarization itself. For some reason, it doesn't work here. Why? Before we can discover the answer to that, we'll have to know more about polarization itself. How does it work, Grampa?\"\n \n Grampa gave him a sarcastic grin. \"Now you're curious, eh? Couldn't be bothered with Grampa's invention before. Oh, no! Too busy. Accept without question the blessings that the Good Lord provideth—\"\n \n \"Let's not get up on any pulpits,\" Fred growled. \"Come on, Grampa, what's the theory behind polarization?\"\n \n Grampa looked at the four faces staring at him hopefully and the jeering grin turned to a smile. \"Well,\" he said, \"at last. You know how light is polarized, eh?\" The smile faded. \"No, I guess you don't.\"\n \n \n\n \n He cleared his throat professorially. \"Well, now, in ordinary light the vibrations are perpendicular to the ray in all directions. When light is polarized by passing through crystals or by reflection or refraction at non-metallic surfaces, the paths of the vibrations are still perpendicular to the ray, but they're in straight lines, circles or ellipses.\"\n \n The faces were still blank and unillumined.\n \n \"Gravity is similar to light,\" he pressed on. \"In the absence of matter, gravity is non-polarized. Matter polarizes gravity in a circle around itself. That's how we've always known it until the invention of spaceships and later the polarizer. The polarizer polarizes gravity into a straight line. That makes the ship take off and continue accelerating until the polarizer is shut off or its angle is shifted.\"\n \n The faces looked at him silently. Finally Joyce could endure it no longer. \"That's just nonsense! You all know it. Grampa's no genius. He's just a tinkerer. One day he happened to tinker out the polarizer. He doesn't know how it works any more than I do.\"\n \n \"Now wait a minute!\" Grampa protested. \"That's not fair. Maybe I didn't figure out the theory myself, but I read everything the scientists ever wrote about it. Wanted to know myself what made the blamed thing work. What I told you is what the scientists said, near as I remember. Now me—I'm like Edison. I do it and let everybody else worry over 'why.'\"\n \n \"The only thing you ever did was the polarizer,\" Joyce snapped.\n\"And then you spent everything you got from it on those fool perpetual-motion machines and those crazy longevity schemes when any moron would know they were impossible.\"\n \n Grampa squinted at her sagely. \"That's what they said about the gravity polarizer before I invented it.\"\n \n \"But you don't really know why it works,\" Junior persisted.\n \n \"Well, no,\" Grampa admitted. \"Actually I was just fiddling around with some coils when one of them took off. Went right through the ceiling, dragging a battery behind it. I guess it's still going. Ought to be out near the Horsehead Nebula by now. Luckily, I remembered how I'd wound it.\"\n \n \"Why won't the ship work then, if you know so much?\" Joyce demanded ironically.\n \n \"Well, now,\" Grampa said in bafflement, \"it rightly should, you know.\"\n \n \n\n \n \"We're stuck,\" Reba said softly. \"We might as well admit it. All we can do is set the transmitter to send out an automatic distress call—\"\n \n \"Which,\" Joyce interrupted, \"might get picked up in a few centuries.\"\n \n \"And make the best of what we've got,\" Reba went on, unheeding. \"If we look at it the right way, it's quite a lot. A beautiful, fertile world. Earth gravity. The flivver—even if the polarizer won't work, there's the resynthesizer; it will keep us in food and clothes for years. By then, we should have a good-sized community built up, because out here we won't have to stop with one child. We can have all the babies we want.\"\n \n \"You know the law: one child per couple,\" Joyce reminded her frigidly.\n\"You can condemn yourself to exile from civilization if you wish. Not me.\"\n \n Junior frowned at his wife. \"I believe you're actually glad it happened.\"\n \n \"I could think of worse things,\" Reba said.\n \n \"I like your spunk, Reb,\" Grampa muttered.\n \n \"Speaking of children,\" Junior said, \"where's Four?\"\n \n \"Here.\" Four came through the airlock and trudged across the room, carrying a curious contraption made of tripod legs supporting a small box from which dangled a plumb bob. Behind Four, like a round, raspberry shadow, rolled Fweep.\n \n \"Fweep?\" it queried hopefully.\n \n \"Not now,\" said Four.\n \n \"Where've you been?\" Reba asked anxiously. \"What've you been doing?\"\n \n \"I've been all over Fweepland,\" Four said wearily, \"trying to locate its center of gravity.\"\n \n \"Well?\" Fred prompted.\n \n \"It shifts.\"\n \n \"That's impossible,\" said Junior.\n \n \"Not for Fweep,\" Four replied.\n \n \"What do you mean by that?\" Joyce suspiciously asked.\n \n \"It shifted,\" Four explained patiently, \"because Fweep kept following me.\"\n \n \"Fweep?\" Junior repeated stupidly.\n \n \"Fweep?\" Fweep said eagerly.\n \n \"He's why the flivver won't work. What Grampa invented was a linear polarizer. Fweep is a circular polarizer. He's what makes this planet so heavy. He's why we can't leave.\"\n \n \n\n \n The land of the Fweep rotated once on its axis, and Grampa lowered the nippled bottle from his lips. He sighed. \"I got it figured out, Four,\" he said, holding out the pircuit proudly. \"A missionary takes over a non-rowing type cannibal, leaves him there, and then the rowing cannibal takes over the other cannibal and leaves him there and—\"\n \n \"Not now, Grampa,\" Four said inattentively as he watched Fweep making the grand tour of the cabin.\n \n The raspberry sphere swept over a scattering of crumbs, engulfed them, absorbed them. Four looked at Joyce. Joyce was watching Fweep, too.\n \n \"Rat poison?\" Four asked.\n \n Joyce started guiltily. \"How did you know?\"\n \n \"There's no use trying to poison Fweep,\" Four said calmly. \"He's got no enzymes to act on, no nervous system to paralyze. He doesn't even use what he 'eats' on a molecular level at all.\"\n \n \"What level does he use?\" Junior wanted to know.\n \n \"Point the scintillation counter at him.\"\n \n Junior dug one of the counters out of the supply cabinet and aimed the pickup at Fweep. The counter began to hum. As Fweep approached, the hum rose in pitch. As it passed, the hum dropped.\n \n Junior looked at the counter's dial. \"He's radioactive, all right. Not much, but enough. But where does he get the radioactive material?\"\n \n \"He uses ordinary matter,\" Four said. \"He must have used up the few deposits of natural radioactives a long time ago.\"\n \n \"He uses ordinary substances on an atomic level?\" Junior said unbelievingly.\n \n Four nodded. \"And that 'skin' of his—whatever it is he uses for skin—is more efficient in stopping particle emissions than several feet of lead.\"\n \n Fred studied Fweep thoughtfully. \"Maybe we could feed him enough enriched uranium from the pile to put him over the critical mass.\"\n \n \"And blow him up? I don't think it's possible, but even if it were, it might be a trifle more than disastrous for us.\" Four giggled at the thought.\n \n \n\n \n Joyce glared at him furiously. \"Four! Act your age! We've got to do something with him. It's preposterous that we should be detained here at the whim of a mere blob!\"\n \n \"I don't figure it's a whim,\" Grampa said. \"Circular gravity is what he's got to have for one reason or another, so he just naturally bends the space-time continuum around him—conscious or subconscious, I don't know. But protoplasm is always more efficient than machines, so the flivver won't move.\"\n \n \"I don't care why that thing does it,\" Joyce said icily. \"I want it stopped, and the sooner the better. If it won't turn the gravity off, we'll just have to do away with it.\"\n \n \"How?\" asked Four. \"Fweep's skin is pretty close to impervious and you can't shoot him, stab him or poison him. He doesn't breathe, so you can't drown or strangle him. You can't imprison him; he 'eats' everything. And violence might be more dangerous to us than to him. Right now, Fweep is friendly, but suppose he got mad! He could lower his radioactive shield or he might increase the gravity by a few times. Either way, you'd feel rather uncomfortable, Grammy.\"\n \n \"Don't call me 'Grammy!' Well, what are we going to do, just sit around and wait for that thing to die?\"\n \n \"We'd have a long wait,\" Four observed. \"Fweep is the only one of his kind on this planet.\"\n \n \"Well?\"\n \n \"Probably he's immortal.\"\n \n \"And he doesn't reproduce?\" Reba asked sympathetically.\n \n \"Probably not. If he doesn't die, there's no point in reproduction. Reproduction is nature's way of providing racial immortality to mortal creatures.\"\n \n \"But he must have some way of reproduction,\" Reba argued. \"An egg or something. He couldn't just have sprung into being as he is now.\"\n \n \"Maybe he developed,\" Four offered. \"It seems to me that he's bigger than when we first landed.\" \"He must have been here a long, long time,\" Fred said. \"Fweepland, as Four calls it, kept its atmosphere and its water, which a planet this size ordinarily would have lost by now.\"\n \n \n\n \n Reba looked at Fweep kindly. \"We can thank the little fellow for that, anyway.\"\n \n \"I thank him for nothing,\" Joyce snapped. \"He lured us down here by making us think the planet had heavy metals and I want him to let us go immediately !\"\n \n Fred turned impatiently on his wife. \"Well, try making him understand! And if you can make him understand what you want him to do, try making him do it!\"\n \n Joyce looked at Fred with startled eyes. \"Fred!\" she said in a high, shocked voice and turned blindly toward her room.\n \n Grampa lowered his bottle and smacked his lips. \"Well, boy,\" he said to Fred, \"I thought you'd never do that. Didn't think you had it in you.\"\n \n Fred stood up apologetically. \"I'd better go calm her down,\" he muttered, and walked quickly after Joyce.\n \n \"Give her one for me!\" Grampa called.\n \n Fred's shoulders twitched as the door closed behind him. From the room came the filtered sound of high-pitched voices rising and falling like some reedy folk music.\n \n \"Makes you think, doesn't it?\" Grampa said, looking at Fweep benignly.\n\"Maybe the whole theory of gravitation is cockeyed. Maybe there's a Fweep for every planet and sun, big and little, polarizing the gravity in circles, and the matter business is not a cause but a result.\"\n \n \"What I can't understand,\" Junior said thoughtfully, \"is why the polarizer worked for a little while when we landed—long enough to keep us from being squashed—and then quit.\"\n \n \"Fweep didn't recognize it immediately, didn't know what it was or where it came from,\" Four explained. \"All he knew was he didn't like linear polarization and he neutralized it as soon as he could. That's when we dropped.\"\n \n \n\n \n \"Linear polarization is uncomfortable for him, is it?\" Grampa said.\n\"Makes you wonder how something like Fweep could ever develop.\"\n \n \"He's no more improbable than people,\" said Four.\n \n \"Less than some I've known,\" Grampa conceded.\n \n \"If he can eat anything,\" Reba said, \"why does he keep sweeping the cabin for dust and lint?\"\n \n \"He wants to be helpful,\" Four replied without hesitation, \"and he's lonely. After all,\" he added wistfully, \"he's never had any friends.\"\n \n \"How do you know all these things?\" Joyce asked from her doorway, excitement in her voice. \"Can you talk to it?\"\n \n Behind her, Fred said, \"Now, Joyce, you promised—\"\n \n \"But this is important,\" Joyce cut him off eagerly. \"Can you? Talk to it, I mean?\"\n \n \"Some,\" Four admitted.\n \n \"Have you asked it to let us go?\"\n \n \"Yes.\"\n \n \"Well? What did it say?\"\n \n \"He said he didn't want his friend to leave him.\"\n \n At the word, Fweep rolled swiftly across the floor and bounced into Four's lap. It nestled against him lovingly and opened raspberry lips.\n\"Fwiend,\" it said.\n \n \"Well, now,\" Grampa said maliciously, his eye on Joyce, \"that's no problem. We can just leave Four here with Fweep.\"\n \n In a voice filled with sanctimonious concern, Joyce said, \"That's quite a sacrifice to ask, but—\"\n \n \"Joyce!\" Reba cried, horrified. \"Grampa was joking, but you actually mean it. Four is only a baby and yet you'd let him—\"\n \n \"Never mind, Reba,\" Four said evenly. \"It was just what I was going to suggest myself. It's the one really logical solution.\"\n \n \"Fwiend,\" said Fweep gently.\n \n \n\n \n The land of the Fweep turned like a fat old man toasting himself in front of an open fire, and Junior sat at the computer's keyboard swearing in a steady monotone.\n \n \"Junior!\" said Joyce, shocked.\n \n Junior swung around impatiently. \"Sorry, Mother, but this damned thing won't work.\"\n \n \"I'm sure that calling it names won't help, and besides, you shouldn't expect a machine to do something that we can't do. And if it did work, it would only say that the logical answer is the one I sug—\"\n \n \"Mother!\" Junior warned. \"We decided not to talk about it any more. Four is strange enough without encouraging him to think like a martyr. It's out of the question. If that's the only way we can leave this planet, we'll stay here until Four has a beard as white as Grampa's!\"\n \n \"Well!\" Joyce said in a stiff, offended tone and sat back in her chair.\n \n Grampa lowered the nippled bottle from his lips and chortled. \"Junior, I apologize for all the mean things I ever said about you. Maybe you got the makings of a Peppergrass yet.\"\n \n Junior turned back to the keyboard and studied it, his chin in his hand. \"It's just a matter of stating the problem in terms the computer can work on.\"\n \n \"I take it all back,\" said Grampa. \"That computer won't help you with this problem, Junior. This ain't a long, complicated calculation; it's a simple problem in logic. It's a pircuit problem, like the one about the cannibals and the missionaries. We can't leave Fweepland because Fweep won't let our polarizer work. He won't let our polarizer work because he doesn't like gravity that's polarized in a straight line, and he don't want Four to leave him.\n \n \"Now Fweep ain't the brightest creature in the Universe, so he can't understand why we're so gosh-fired eager to leave. And as long as he's got Four, he's happy. Why should he make himself unhappy? As a favor to Four, he'd let us leave—if we'd leave Four here with him, which we ain't gonna do.\n \n \"That's the problem. All we got to do is figure out the answer. No use making a pircuit, because a puzzle circuit is just a miniature computer with the solution built in; if you can build the pircuit, you've already solved the problem. And if you can state the problem to Abacus, you've already got the answer. All you want from it then is decimal points.\"\n \n \"That may be,\" Junior said stubbornly, \"but I still want to know why this computer won't work. It won't even do simple arithmetic! Where's Four? He's the only one who understands this thing.\"\n \n \"He's outside, playing in the meadow with Fweep,\" Reba said, her voice soft. \"No, here they come now.\"", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "c3119d36429d431abfbed55f9d55dc6b", "response_text": " Grampa Peppergrass is an inventor, creator of the gravity polarizer and the space flivver, which have earned him one hundred million dollars. But he invested much of his earnings in perpetual motion machines and longevity pills. Now, the Peppergrass family travels to different planets, searching for radioactive metals that they can exploit to make themselves a fortune. The family consists of four generations of men and their spouses. Apparently, Grandpa, who is 90-years-old, is a widower. His son, Fred, is 60 and married to Joyce. Their son Junior, 35, is married to Reba; they are parents of an eight-year-old genius son known as Four.\n\tThe flivver they travel in was purchased by Grampa, who gave ⅙ ownership to each of the family members. The flivver’s landing is unusually bumpy because the gravity polarizer failed. Through the view screen, they see that the planet has meadows, woodlands, plains, and lakes, and Four announces that it also has fauna before he rushes out the air lock to check it out. The ship has already ascertained that the air is almost like that on Earth, and there are no micro-organisms. When Four returns to the flivver accompanied by the native fauna, Fweep, he announces they are friends. The creature looks like a transparent blob and likes to sweep. Four is curious about what Fweep does with the sweepings since the outer inch or so of his body turns cloudy but clears afterward. \n\tAfter Fred and Junior use their scintillation counters to search for heavy metals, they return to the flivver to report there aren’t any, just low-grade iron. The group mulls over what could be making the planet so heavy if it doesn’t have heavy metals, but no one has the answer. \nJunior and Fred tell the rest of the family that the gravity polarizer isn’t working and that without it, they will not be able to lift off. Reba looks on the bright side and says they can have more children instead of stopping at one child, as is currently the dictated number on Earth. In the meantime, Four returns from an excursion searching for the center of gravity for the planet and announces that it changes because of Fweep’s presence. The little guy is a circular polarizer, making the planet heavy and preventing their gravity polarizer from working. Fweep is also radioactive and has impervious skin. Joyce is furious that Fweep is making them stay there, and when Grampa jokingly, or as a test, suggests leaving Four behind with Fweep, she immediately goes along with it. Four offers to stay behind with Fweep, who is lonely and likes having a friend so much it doesn’t want to lose Four. Grampa announces that the problem isn’t one that their computer can solve; instead, it’s a logic problem like the ones Four told him earlier.   \n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "15aade80ad164151be0557954a2f30a0", "response_text": "A small, weird spaceship crashes into a meadow with four generations of the Peppergrass family inside. The men are Grampa, (Young) Fred, Junior, and Four. There are two women: Four's mom Reba, and Junior's mom Joyce. There is bickering, as Joyce doesn't think Grampa has spent his money well, and they argue about the role of gravity in their crash, which happened on a search for heavy metals to bring back to Earth. \nThe air should be safe to breathe, and they spot both plants and animals, so Four wants to rush outside. Junior pulls Fred into a private conversation explaining that something went wrong and their ship now won’t move. When Four gets back, he brings with him a creature named Fweep: a gelatin-like orb about two feet in diameter that is raspberry in color. When he moves across the tile, he cleans it, picking up what he passes over. Joyce is appalled but Reba insists Four should be able to have a friend, so Four focuses on learning how Fweep's ability works. The ship shook when Grampa patted Fweep, and the family discussed a plan. The polarizer on the ship is broken so they might not be able to go anywhere. Grampa insists it can’t be broken, Junior responds that polarization doesn’t work here, so Fred insists on an explanation from Grampa about how gravity polarization works. Joyce insists Grampa doesn't actually know, and expresses her frustration that they aren't just getting rich from finding uranium. They figure they could build a community on the planet, but having more than one child per family is against their laws. As they argue about options, Four uses another contraption to try to find the planet’s center of gravity. The center of gravity shifts when Fweep leaves - he is a circular polarizer, making the planet heavy, conflicting with the linear polarizer of the spaceship, which is why it can't move. Joyce tries to poison Fweep with rat poison but it can’t hurt him, he doesn’t consume what he picks up but rather uses matter to create radioactive substance: this means he has a lot of mass, and it was him their equipment picked up on, not uranium. They talk about how to turn off his gravity, but they don’t know how, and figure he might be immortal. Fred tries to calm Joyce down but she suggest that they appeal to Fweep to let them go. Four says he’d asked already, but Fweep doesn’t want his only friend to leave. The question arises: what if Four stays behind? Junior is found yelling at a computer and doesn’t want Four to stay behind, he refuses to leave his son on a strange planet. Grampa insists that Junior’s computer work won’t help them because it is not a scientific issue, but rather a moral and logical one. The story ends with Fweep and Four coming back from playing in the meadow with the family ready to discuss options.\n"}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "f6ad4f0147b34ecda50b473c9ced063e", "response_text": "Four generations of the Peppergrass family approach a new planet. They are riding a flivver, a spaceship that was poorly constructed for very little money. The flivver descends on the new planet, stops abruptly before impact, and lands and rocks back and forth in a grassy meadow. \n\nGrampa, the patriarch of the family, gets upset because his logic puzzle, a pircuit, is disrupted by the harsh landing. When his family members tell him to work on his game, he reminds them that he’s the one that invented the gravity polarizer and the flivver. He also boasts that he made one hundred million dollars doing it. Joyce points out that he spent most of the money, and now the family is stuck searching various planets for uranium. \n\nFour, an eight-year-old boy, leaves the ship and returns with a creature that looks like a two-foot sphere made of raspberry flavored Jello. Almost simultaneously, Junior, the pilot, discovers that the polarizer stopped working, and now the flivver won’t move at all. Joyce, Four’s grandmother, tells him to get the blob away immediately, but Four has already named it Fweep because that’s the only word it has said thus far, and he likes it. Fweep begins sweeping the floor, and his body picks up all of the particles that he passes through. When Grampa reaches down to pet the alien, the flivver physically shakes. \n\nFred reveals that the tests show that Fweep’s planet has no uranium or other heavy metals that would be valuable to the Peppergrass family. They have a difficult time understanding why the planet is so heavy without those resources, and they are all disappointed that the new land will not bring them wealth. They have spent a year on the flivver and they have very little to show for themselves. Worst of all, they are now stuck on Fweep’s planet. After a short discussion, it becomes clear that although Grampa created the polarizer, he has very little knowledge about how it works and how to fix it.\n\nFour discovers that Fweep’s planet has a shifting center of gravity because Fweep himself is a circular polarizer. He is the force that makes the planet heavy. Joyce tries to feed Fweep poison so that the family can leave, but Fweep has zero enzymes and no nervous system. He’s a radioactive being, but it’s unclear what makes him that way. There is no way to kill Fweep because his skin is thicker than lead, and he doesn’t breathe. Four believes he is the only one of his kind and that he is immortal. He reveals that he has been communicating with Fweep, and Fweep has told him that he will not let his family leave because he wants to be Four’s friend. The family considers leaving Four on the planet alone, but his mother won’t have it. Four leaves to play in the meadow with Fweep, and the other family members are left to come up with a solution to the problem. \n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "f85c64672c1748a19632a6901075caf0", "response_text": "The Peppergrass family is made up of Grampa, their son Fred and his wife Joyce, their son Junior and his wife Reba, and their son Four. The Peppergrass men all looked alike and were currently onboard their Grampa’s flivver which they each hold a share in. Due to Grampa’s poor spending choices, they are currently broke and searching the universe for rare finds or radioactive materials to sell back on Earth. Their rocket, the flivver, lands on this new planet suddenly, as the polarizer gave out when it neared the surface. The men quickly go to investigate it, while Four decides to explore the new planet after looking out the window and discovering both flora and fauna. After reassuring his mother, Four rushes outside, while Junior and Fred discuss the polarizer issue. \nFour returns soon after with a gelatinous, dark pink blob with a mouth that calls itself Fweep. His family reacts somewhat negatively, but Four claims that Fweep is his friend. Reba allows Fweep to say and dismisses Joyce in the process. Fweep sweeps and absorbs matter and particulates into his body. He starts cleaning the floors of the spaceship leaving nothing behind. \nGrampa and Reba share a quick conversation about her choice to marry Junior. Four attempts to understand Fweep before talking with Grampa about his puzzle circuits. Fweep momentarily absorbed Grampa’s hand before spitting it back out. The flivver shook as it did so. Despite having a similar atmosphere to Earth, this planet was extremely heavy, making it impossible to take off of. They toss around ideas, then come to the conclusion that there’s something different about the gravity here. Four discovers that Fweep is the center of gravity after traipsing all across the planet trying to find it. Fweep is a circular polarizer, not a linear polarizer, so he makes the planet heavy and impossible for the polarizer to work. \nJoyce attempts to poison Fweep sometime later, but it doesn’t work. Four reveals all that he’s learned about Fweep and the way it works. After a quick outburst from Joyce, Four says that he’s able to speak to Fweep. Fweep doesn’t want to let them leave because Four is his friend. Joyce suggests leaving Four behind so the rest can leave, which Reba takes great offense to, though Four agrees with Joyce. Grampa and Junior attempt to solve their issue logically while Four and Fweep play outside. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the setting of the story.", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "c3119d36429d431abfbed55f9d55dc6b", "response_text": "The first setting mentioned in the story is the flivver, a bullet-shaped spaceship that lands vertically on the blunt end. It is made of sheet metal and insulation board. Fully equipped, a flivver sells for $15,730. The flivver has a large central cabin with the pilot’s chair; the control stick is situated between the pilot’s knees, and there is an on/off button for the gravity polarizer. It is also equipped with a computer named Abacus that analyzes data that fed into it. Flivvers have their own power plants that operate their lights, air and water recirculation systems, and food and clothing synthesizers. It also has a storage battery. Off of the central cabin, there are several private rooms. The flivver is owned jointly by the Peppergrass family; Grandpa bought it the ‘23 model and gave everyone ⅙ shares. The flivver also carries devices that can analyze the air and detect microorganisms.\nThe other setting where the story takes place is on a planet much like Earth, with a diameter smaller than Mercury’s but a gravitational pull as strong as Earth’s. The Peppergrass family calls the world Fweepland since “Fweep” is the sound/word the one organism there says. Fweepland’s air is within 1% of Earth’s air, and there are no microorganisms present. Fweepland features a beautiful landscape with a peaceful green woodland, grassy plains, a meadow, and a blue lake. The only organism they encounter is Fweep, a friendly blob-shaped creature that sweeps over debris and picks it up. The Peppergrass family hopes to find radioactive or heavy metals on the planet, but their scintillation counters only detect low-grade iron. Four points out that while it doesn’t have the metals they are looking for, the planet is very valuable as real estate. Interestingly, the planet’s center of gravity shifts wherever Fweep goes. A day on Fweepland is 16 Earth hours, as that is the length of time it takes for one rotation of the planet.\nThe story presumably takes place sometime in the 22nd century as Grampa references Einstein’s work “two hundred years ago.” There are some references to life on Earth at this time. Families are only allowed one child; if they have more, they are exiled from civilization. We can also assume that others are traveling into space since Grampa became wealthy from his invention of flivvers and gravity polarizers. People on Earth are trying to lengthen their lives, hence Grampa’s efforts to create longevity pills and his hundred-year contract with the Life-Begins-At-Ninety longevity company.\n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "15aade80ad164151be0557954a2f30a0", "response_text": "There are two settings directly important to the story: one is the planet which the Peppergrass family calls Fweepland, and the other is the spaceship that took them there. Inside the small spaceship are a number of computers that the family interacts with (ones that run puzzles are called pircuit, and the computer that runs the ship is called Abacus). There are personal rooms for the members of the family, and an area to pilot the ship from. Outside of the airlock is the planet the Peppergrass family finds themselves on after the crash: Four refers to it as Fweepland, after the creature he meets who he calls Fweep because \"fweep\" is the only word the creature seems capable of saying. It has beautiful grassy meadows, one of which was the location of the crash. There are various plants and animals on the planet, but one unique creature named Fweep seems to stand on his own. "}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "f6ad4f0147b34ecda50b473c9ced063e", "response_text": "“The Gravity Business” takes place on the flivver, a spaceship which Grampa designed, and Fweep’s planet. The flivver has been the Peppergrass’s home for about a year at this point. Although Grampa had millions of dollars not that long ago, he spent it all on frivolous inventions, and the family is now forced to search uncolonized planets for uranium or other expensive heavy metals. It is clear that the family members are getting on each others’ nerves after spending so much time together cooped up in a crude contraption that was built for only $15,000. \n\nFweep’s planet is very similar to Earth, the original home of the Peppergrass family. It is smaller than Mercury, but it has almost the same level of gravity as Earth. The surface is covered with grass and white flowers. Because the planet is unusually heavy for its size, the family believes they may find heavy metals there. However, their instincts are wrong, and the reason the planet is heavy is because Fweep, an alien creature, is polarizing the gravity. At one point, Reba points out that the land is beautiful and fertile, and it really isn’t the worst place to get stuck. \n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "f85c64672c1748a19632a6901075caf0", "response_text": "The Gravity Business by James E. Gunn takes place on a deserted planet called by the crew the Land of the Fweep or Fweepland. The planet is beautiful, featuring woodlands, prairies, and a blue lake. This green meadow is untouched by any humanity, meaning no buildings, structures, or paved roads. Four is shocked to discover that this planet has both flora and fauna. Each day lasts only 16 Earth hours, significantly shorter than Earth days. \nThe flivver on which they travel is cramped and bullet-shaped. Its relatively ugly figure is unlike any other rocket ship, but it gets the job done. Built with the polarizer discovered by Grampa, this ship is their last hope in making any money to retire and settle down. \nAs well, the society in which they lived before only allowed one child per couple, suggesting overpopulation. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Fweep, and what is his significance in the story?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "c3119d36429d431abfbed55f9d55dc6b", "response_text": "Fweep is significant because he is the only creature living on Fweepland. He is a blob-shaped, raspberry-colored, gelatinous, transparent creature who sweeps up the debris that he runs over and engulfs it in his body. After he sweeps up particles, the outer inch or two of his body turns cloudy, then slowly clears. It seems he also absorbs substances from human contact since he follows a crooked path and hiccups after Grampa, who has been imbibing, pats him. He has a pseudo-mouth and makes the sound, or says the word, “Fweep.” His skin is impervious, and he has no enzymes or nervous system, so rat poison has no effect on him. Fweep immediately befriends Four. \n\tWhen Four explores Fweepland to identify its center of gravity, he discovers that it shifts because Fweep is a circular polarizer. Fweep is what makes the planet so heavy and prevents the flivver’s gravity polarizer from working so the family can leave. Fweep is slightly radioactive and likely immortal and incapable of reproduction since there is no need to reproduce. Because he has circular polarization, linear polarization is uncomfortable to him, so Fweep turned of the flivver’s gravity polarizer just before they landed. Fweep wants to be helpful, but he doesn’t want Four to leave since Four is the only friend he has ever had. Fweep was lonely before he met Four. Fweep will let the Peppergrass family leave only if Four stays with him. Fweep is responsible for the family’s landing on Fweepland and their predicament of being unable to leave.\n"}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "15aade80ad164151be0557954a2f30a0", "response_text": "Fweep is a creature that Four finds when the Peppergrass family lands on an unknown planet. He is a gelatin-like orb about two feet in diameter that is raspberry in color, and has something resembling a mouth. However, he has an interesting ability in which he picks up particulates on the ground by rolling around. He calls this sweeping, and we find out later in the story that he is able to convert the materials in what he picks up to create radioactive matter. Because of this ability, he has a very high mass which the Peppergrass family misinterpreted as heavy metals as they were scanning the planet, which is what drew them to the planet in the first place. Fweep is also responsible for the ship's crashing: because of his mass, Fweep is a circular polarizer, which conflicted with the linear polarizer of the spaceship. Fweep and Four become instant friends when they meet, which adds another layer of complication to the relationship that the family has with Fweep. He could let the family return home, which they can't do under his gravitational pull, but Fweep does not want to let the family go if that means that Four would leave him, and Four is his only friend. This presents a moral conundrum to the family: they could return if they leave Four on the planet, but they do not want to leave a family member behind. "}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "f6ad4f0147b34ecda50b473c9ced063e", "response_text": "Fweep is a pink colored blob, and he’s about two-feet wide. He looks like gelatin, and he picks up dust and particles as he moves across the floor of the flivver. The outer couple of inches of his body become cloudy when he does this, and then they clear again. Fweep gets his name because when Four first meets him and brings him back to the flivver, the only word he says is “Fweep?” He is trying to ask Four if he should sweep the spaceship. He wants to be helpful because he has no other friends or family members on his planet. \n\nThe family has a difficult time figuring out why their ship’s polarizer won’t work, and Fweep ends up being the culprit. Fweep is a circular polarizer, and he is the reason that the planet is so heavy. He is a being entirely different than anything living on Earth. Four believes he is immortal because he appears to be the only one of his kind. As far as they know, he cannot be killed because he has zero enzymes, no nervous system, his skin is impenetrable, and he doesn’t breathe. Junior uses a special tool to test Fweep’s radioactivity levels, and he finds that the creature is radioactive, although it’s unclear how or why. \n\nWhen the family’s flivver lands, Fweep does not like the feeling of linear polarization, so he neutralizes it. This causes the spaceship to abruptly fall to the ground. After he meets Four, the eight-year-old genius of the family, he decides that he wants to be his friend. Four asks Fweep if his family can leave the planet, and Fweep tells him he doesn’t want his friend to leave. He enjoys sitting in Four’s lap and even learns the word “fwend.” Fweep won’t allow the flivver’s polarizer to work, so the family cannot leave. He won’t allow the polarizer to work because he wants to stay friends with Four. When the story abruptly comes to an end, the Peppergrass adults are trying to figure out how to solve this problem. \n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "f85c64672c1748a19632a6901075caf0", "response_text": "Fweep is a gelatinous life-form, unlike anything the Peppergrass family has ever seen before. Fweep is slightly radioactive after having absorbed much of the radioactive substances found on this planet. He can also convert ordinary matter into a radioactive substance. Fweep is unstable, unshootable, and unable to be poisoned. Fweep does not breathe, so he is unable to be suffocated or drowned. As well, Fweep may be immortal, since there are no other of his kind. Since he’s the only one of his kind, he’s very lonely and latches onto Four as soon as he arrives. Fweep controls the gravity of Fweepland, and uses circular gravity not linear gravity. His powers are extraordinary and completely unknown. "}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Four, and what is his significance in the story?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "c3119d36429d431abfbed55f9d55dc6b", "response_text": "Four is the highly intelligent, eight-year-old youngest member of the Peppergrass family. Although he is the youngest, he is the one who figures out the answers to why Fweepland is so heavy and how Fweep disables the flivver’s gravity polarizer. As a child, he is more impulsive than the adults, for example rushing outside to meet Fweep when the others stay back, but this enables him to solve problems and answer questions faster. On the other hand, his lack of experience prevents him from solving the ultimate problem of how to leave the planet, but his riddles and comment that creating a puzzle means you already know the solution trigger an idea for Grampa that may help solve the family’s dilemma. By befriending Fweep so readily, Four discovers that Fweep is responsible for the planet’s “fake” heaviness and the failure of the flivver’s gravity polarizer. He also studies Fweep and determines his significant characteristics such as his impervious skin, lack of enzymes, and radioactivity. While the adults discuss and bemoan the fact that they cannot leave Fweepland, Four goes out and tries to identify the planet’s center of gravity and therefore discovers that Fweep affects the planet’s gravity and that he is a circular polarizer. At the end of the story, Junior even relies on Four to find out why the computer won’t work. Not only is Four a problem solver and investigator, but he is also logical and selfless. He realizes that Fweep doesn’t want him to leave and is willing to stay behind with Fweep so that the rest of his family can leave. "}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "15aade80ad164151be0557954a2f30a0", "response_text": "Four is the youngest of the Peppergrass family, the son of Junior and Reba. He is eight years old, and due to his unusual upbringing living on a ship with his family, does not have many friends of his own. When the family crash-lands on a planet, he discovers a creature who he calls Fweep and the two instantly become friends. Four seems to understand the creatures when he talks, and can interpret his requests. Four is a curious child, and wants to solve the problem of why the ship can't go anywhere after it crash landed, so he took Fweep on an adventure to find the center of gravity of the planet. It is Four who discovers that Fweep is the center of gravity, and it is the fact that this point shifts that makes the gravity (and thus, the polarization) so unpredictable. It is also Four who aims to learn more about the planet outside of the ship, and not just about the problems on the ship itself, and it is this perspective that drives any progress they made. Besides learning about the moving center of gravity, he learns about the way Fweep picks things up as he rolls over them, and investigates how he converts matter and what his outer shell might be contributing to the distribution of energy. After discovering that Fweep is responsible for the gravity of the planet, things get more complicated. Four is at the center of a moral conundrum at the end of the story: if the family wants to return home, they have to appeal to Fweep, who controls the polarization on the planet. However, Fweep's terms are that Four would have to stay behind, because he does not want his only friend to leave. "}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "f6ad4f0147b34ecda50b473c9ced063e", "response_text": "Four is an eight-year-old genius and a member of the Peppergrass family. He is pale, has a thin face, and acts much, much older than he is. His mother is Reba and his father is Junior. His parents are concerned about his lack of friends and socialization. He truly acts like an adult, and it seems as though he never got to have a normal childhood. When his Grampa struggles to figure out his logic puzzle, Four solves it for him in mere moments. He then comes up with another puzzle for his Grampa to solve, and he even offers to build him a pircuit board with a few parts that he has laying around the flivver. Four is very excited to meet his new friend Fweep, and it’s clear that he does not want to immediately come clean about Fweep being the reason the family’s spaceship can’t take off. Since he has had so few friends in his life, the pink blob that follows him around means a lot to him, especially since he actually tells Four that he wants to be his friend. If it were up to Four, the family would probably stay on Fweep's planet and colonize the fertile land. However, several of the family members are completely against this idea, and Reba refuses to leave her son behind so that the spaceship can take off again. They are in this conundrum when the story ends. "}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "f85c64672c1748a19632a6901075caf0", "response_text": "Four is the youngest of the Peppergrass men and perhaps one of the smartest. Despite his young age, he is very intelligent and understanding of the world of rocketships and interplanetary travel. His mother, Reba, worries after him, especially since he doesn’t have any friends to play with or a school to attend. He creates games for his Grampa to solve and puzzle circuits as well. However, when they land on this new planet, he quickly makes a friend in Fweep. After discovering that the planet’s gravity is attached to Fweep and therefore circular, he effectively discovered the true issue at hand. It was not the polarizer that was keeping them trapped, it was Fweep. Four nobly offers to stay behind with Fweep, so the rest can leave and Fweep won’t be lonely. All Fweep wants is a friend, and Four is happy to be that friend. "}]}, {"question_text": "Describe Joyce and her role in the story.", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "c3119d36429d431abfbed55f9d55dc6b", "response_text": "Joyce is Junior’s mother and Fred’s wife and is nearly sixty years old; she is still in good shape: slender, elegant, and attractive. However, she is described as having ice water instead of blood in her veins because she is such a cold-hearted woman much of the time. Joyce creates most of the tension in the story; she is frequently at odds with Grampa and says whatever she thinks, no matter how rude or hurtful it is. She presents as a spoiled, self-centered woman who only wants lots of money. Grampa’s inventions made him a multimillionaire, but she accuses him of wasting the money on new inventions and making it so that they had to travel the galaxy searching for uranium and other habitable worlds. When Grampa tells her he has set some money aside and she’ll be sorry when he’s dead, she responds that he’ll never die. And she knows he bought a hundred-year contract with the Life-Begins-At-Ninety longevity company. Joyce is eager to get her hands on some of Grampa’s money and resents that he is using some of it to carry out his research. When Four brings Fweep aboard the flivver, she is thoroughly disgusted and insists he take it back out; when Reba stands up for Four and Fweep and calls Joyce Grammy, Joyce is furious and goes into her private room. Later, she even tries to poison Fweep by leaving rat poison on the floor. When the men return from checking Fweepland for heavy metals or radioactive elements, she eagerly comes out of her room and immediately asks if they had found any uranium, radium, or thorium. Their negative answer again draws her ire and shows her greed. She complains to Fred that they are all supposed to get filthy rich finding radioactives and retire on Earth as billionaires. She resents the year they have spent looking for radioactives. When she learns that Fweep is the reason they can’t leave the planet, her first reaction is to kill him, and when she learns that killing him isn’t possible, she readily and seriously agrees to Grampa’s joke that they should leave Four behind so the rest of them can leave. Again, Joyce only wants what is best for her, and she is ready to kill or abandon anyone who stands in her way."}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "15aade80ad164151be0557954a2f30a0", "response_text": "Joyce is the mother of Junior, an almost-60-year old woman who is very cold and bitter in most of her interactions with the rest of the family. She constantly berates Grampa for how he spends his money and what he may or may not understand about science, especially the polarizer. She is appalled when she encounters Fweep for the first time, but Reba stands up for Four and Fweep and reminds Joyce that she can always go to her room to stay away from it. Joyce just wanted to gain money by finding radioactive material on their journey, but getting rich seems to be her only goal so she is not entertained by the interesting distractions that the rest of the crew find endearing or curious. She makes fun of Grampa for happening upon the right configuration to build a successful polarizer and says his skill and scientific knowledge had nothing to do with his \"accidental\" success. Joyce is the only one who is potentially serious about leaving Four behind on the planet in return for the ability to leave, and people do not usually stand up to her--when Reba stands up for Four's right to have Fweep as a friend, the rest of the family is surprised, and even in awe. Joyce even tries to poison Fweep by leaving out rat poison before she learns that he cannot be affected by it. In general, she is angry or hysterical and is always antagonistic, and acts as the main source of conflict in the family. "}, {"worker_id": "1", "uid": "f6ad4f0147b34ecda50b473c9ced063e", "response_text": "Joyce is Grampa’s wife and Four’s grandmother, but she refuses to be called by that name. Although she is almost sixty years old, she is still thin and beautiful. However, she is also very difficult to get along with. She openly blames her husband for spending all of their money and essentially ruining their lives, and she tells the rest of the family members his secret about purchasing some type of contract that will extend his life. When Grampa tries to explain how the polarizer works, Joyce immediately pipes up and tells everyone that he is just a tinkerer and has no idea what he’s talking about. Despite the fact that he invented the polarizer and the flivver they are using to travel, she gives him zero credit. Joyce hates living on the flivver and traveling to all sorts of different planets to search for heavy metals. She would much rather be on Earth. When she meets Fweep, she is disgusted and wants him as far away as possible. After she finds out that Fweep is the reason the ship is stuck on the unknown planet, she actually tries to feed the alien rat poison, but it doesn’t work. Joyce would most likely leave Four, a young child, behind to fend for himself on a planet he’s never before visited, but her daughter-in-law Reba will not allow the family to take off without Four. \n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "f85c64672c1748a19632a6901075caf0", "response_text": "Joyce is Fred’s wife and prone to tantrums. She is often upset when things don’t go her way and more blunt than may be considered socially acceptable. For example, she is the first to suggest that they leave Four behind so the rest can escape, much to Reba’s horror. As well, she’s upset when Fweep is first introduced to the family circle, especially since his presence forces her to retreat. Joyce often causes conflict, tension, and drama throughout the story with her survivalist attitude and unfortunately unpleasant attitude.  "}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "51687", "uid": "d66eb3f2a6ba492a999110101fcc9b07", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "THE SPY IN THE ELEVATOR\n \n \n By DONALD E. WESTLAKE\n \n Illustrated by WEST\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Magazine October 1961. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n\n He was dangerously insane. He threatened to destroy everything that was noble and decent—including my date with my girl!\n \n\n \n When the elevator didn't come, that just made the day perfect. A broken egg yolk, a stuck zipper, a feedback in the aircon exhaust, the window sticking at full transparency—well, I won't go through the whole sorry list. Suffice it to say that when the elevator didn't come, that put the roof on the city, as they say.\n \n It was just one of those days. Everybody gets them. Days when you're lucky in you make it to nightfall with no bones broken.\n \n But of all times for it to happen! For literally months I'd been building my courage up. And finally, just today, I had made up my mind to do it—to propose to Linda. I'd called her second thing this morning—right after the egg yolk—and invited myself down to her place. \"Ten o'clock,\" she'd said, smiling sweetly at me out of the phone. She knew why I wanted to talk to her. And when Linda said ten o'clock, she meant ten o'clock.\n \n Don't get me wrong. I don't mean that Linda's a perfectionist or a harridan or anything like that. Far from it. But she does have a fixation on that one subject of punctuality. The result of her job, of course. She was an ore-sled dispatcher. Ore-sleds, being robots, were invariably punctual. If an ore-sled didn't return on time, no one waited for it. They simply knew that it had been captured by some other Project and had blown itself up.\n \n Well, of course, after working as an ore-sled dispatcher for three years, Linda quite naturally was a bit obsessed. I remember one time, shortly after we'd started dating, when I arrived at her place five minutes late and found her having hysterics. She thought I'd been killed. She couldn't visualize anything less than that keeping me from arriving at the designated moment. When I told her what actually had happened—I'd broken a shoe lace—she refused to speak to me for four days.\n \n And then the elevator didn't come.\n \n \n\n \n Until then, I'd managed somehow to keep the day's minor disasters from ruining my mood. Even while eating that horrible egg—I couldn't very well throw it away, broken yolk or no; it was my breakfast allotment and I was hungry—and while hurriedly jury-rigging drapery across that gaspingly transparent window—one hundred and fifty-three stories straight down to slag—I kept going over and over my prepared proposal speeches, trying to select the most effective one.\n \n I had a Whimsical Approach: \"Honey, I see there's a nice little Non-P apartment available up on one seventy-three.\" And I had a Romantic Approach: \"Darling, I can't live without you at the moment. Temporarily, I'm madly in love with you. I want to share my life with you for a while. Will you be provisionally mine?\" I even had a Straightforward Approach: \"Linda, I'm going to be needing a wife for at least a year or two, and I can't think of anyone I would rather spend that time with than you.\"\n \n Actually, though I wouldn't even have admitted this to Linda, much less to anyone else, I loved her in more than a Non-P way. But even if we both had been genetically desirable (neither of us were) I knew that Linda relished her freedom and independence too much to ever contract for any kind of marriage other than Non-P—Non-Permanent, No Progeny.\n \n So I rehearsed my various approaches, realizing that when the time came I would probably be so tongue-tied I'd be capable of no more than a blurted, \"Will you marry me?\" and I struggled with zippers and malfunctioning air-cons, and I managed somehow to leave the apartment at five minutes to ten.\n \n Linda lived down on the hundred fortieth floor, thirteen stories away. It never took more than two or three minutes to get to her place, so I was giving myself plenty of time.\n \n But then the elevator didn't come.\n \n I pushed the button, waited, and nothing happened. I couldn't understand it.\n \n The elevator had always arrived before, within thirty seconds of the button being pushed. This was a local stop, with an elevator that traveled between the hundred thirty-third floor and the hundred sixty-seventh floor, where it was possible to make connections for either the next local or for the express. So it couldn't be more than twenty stories away. And this was a non-rush hour.\n \n I pushed the button again, and then I waited some more. I looked at my watch and it was three minutes to ten. Two minutes, and no elevator! If it didn't arrive this instant, this second, I would be late.\n \n It didn't arrive.\n \n I vacillated, not knowing what to do next. Stay, hoping the elevator would come after all? Or hurry back to the apartment and call Linda, to give her advance warning that I would be late?\n \n Ten more seconds, and still no elevator. I chose the second alternative, raced back down the hall, and thumbed my way into my apartment. I dialed Linda's number, and the screen lit up with white letters on black: PRIVACY DISCONNECTION.\n \n Of course! Linda expected me at any moment. And she knew what I wanted to say to her, so quite naturally she had disconnected the phone, to keep us from being interrupted.\n \n Frantic, I dashed from the apartment again, back down the hall to the elevator, and leaned on that blasted button with all my weight. Even if the elevator should arrive right now, I would still be almost a minute late.\n \n No matter. It didn't arrive.\n \n I would have been in a howling rage anyway, but this impossibility piled on top of all the other annoyances and breakdowns of the day was just too much. I went into a frenzy, and kicked the elevator door three times before I realized I was hurting myself more than I was hurting the door. I limped back to the apartment, fuming, slammed the door behind me, grabbed the phone book and looked up the number of the Transit Staff. I dialed, prepared to register a complaint so loud they'd be able to hear me in sub-basement three.\n \n I got some more letters that spelled: BUSY.\n \n \n\n \n It took three tries before I got through to a hurried-looking female receptionist \"My name is Rice!\" I bellowed. \"Edmund Rice! I live on the hundred and fifty-third floor! I just rang for the elevator and——\"\n \n \"The-elevator-is-disconnected.\" She said it very rapidly, as though she were growing very used to saying it.\n \n It only stopped me for a second. \"Disconnected? What do you mean disconnected? Elevators don't get disconnected!\" I told her.\n \n \"We-will-resume-service-as-soon-as-possible,\" she rattled. My bellowing was bouncing off her like radiation off the Project force-screen.\n \n I changed tactics. First I inhaled, making a production out of it, giving myself a chance to calm down a bit. And then I asked, as rationally as you could please, \"Would you mind terribly telling me why the elevator is disconnected?\"\n \n \"I-am-sorry-sir-but-that——\"\n \n \"Stop,\" I said. I said it quietly, too, but she stopped. I saw her looking at me. She hadn't done that before, she'd merely gazed blankly at her screen and parroted her responses.\n \n But now she was actually looking at me .\n \n I took advantage of the fact. Calmly, rationally, I said to her, \"I would like to tell you something, Miss. I would like to tell you just what you people have done to me by disconnecting the elevator. You have ruined my life.\"\n \n She blinked, open-mouthed. \"Ruined your life?\"\n \n \"Precisely.\" I found it necessary to inhale again, even more slowly than before. \"I was on my way,\" I explained, \"to propose to a girl whom I dearly love. In every way but one, she is the perfect woman. Do you understand me?\"\n \n She nodded, wide-eyed. I had stumbled on a romantic, though I was too preoccupied to notice it at the time.\n \n \"In every way but one,\" I continued. \"She has one small imperfection, a fixation about punctuality. And I was supposed to meet her at ten o'clock. I'm late! \" I shook my fist at the screen. \"Do you realize what you've done , disconnecting the elevator? Not only won't she marry me, she won't even speak to me! Not now! Not after this!\"\n \n \"Sir,\" she said tremulously, \"please don't shout.\"\n \n \"I'm not shouting!\"\n \n \"Sir, I'm terribly sorry. I understand your—\"\n \n \"You understand ?\" I trembled with speechless fury.\n \n She looked all about her, and then leaned closer to the screen, revealing a cleavage that I was too distraught at the moment to pay any attention to. \"We're not supposed to give this information out, sir,\" she said, her voice low, \"but I'm going to tell you, so you'll understand why we had to do it. I think it's perfectly awful that it had to ruin things for you this way. But the fact of the matter is—\" she leaned even closer to the screen—\"there's a spy in the elevator.\"\n \n \n\n II\n \n It was my turn to be stunned.\n \n I just gaped at her. \"A—a what?\"\n \n \"A spy. He was discovered on the hundred forty-seventh floor, and managed to get into the elevator before the Army could catch him. He jammed it between floors. But the Army is doing everything it can think of to get him out.\"\n \n \"Well—but why should there be any problem about getting him out?\"\n \n \"He plugged in the manual controls. We can't control the elevator from outside at all. And when anyone tries to get into the shaft, he aims the elevator at them.\"\n \n That sounded impossible. \"He aims the elevator?\"\n \n \"He runs it up and down the shaft,\" she explained, \"trying to crush anybody who goes after him.\"\n \n \"Oh,\" I said. \"So it might take a while.\"\n \n She leaned so close this time that even I, distracted as I was, could hardly help but take note of her cleavage. She whispered, \"They're afraid they'll have to starve him out.\"\n \n \"Oh, no!\"\n \n She nodded solemnly. \"I'm terribly sorry, sir,\" she said. Then she glanced to her right, suddenly straightened up again, and said,\n\"We-will-resume-service-as-soon-as-possible.\" Click. Blank screen.\n \n For a minute or two, all I could do was sit and absorb what I'd been told. A spy in the elevator! A spy who had managed to work his way all the way up to the hundred forty-seventh floor before being unmasked!\n \n What in the world was the matter with the Army? If things were getting that lax, the Project was doomed, force-screen or no. Who knew how many more spies there were in the Project, still unsuspected?\n \n Until that moment, the state of siege in which we all lived had had no reality for me. The Project, after all, was self-sufficient and completely enclosed. No one ever left, no one ever entered. Under our roof, we were a nation, two hundred stories high. The ever-present threat of other projects had never been more for me—or for most other people either, I suspected—than occasional ore-sleds that didn't return, occasional spies shot down as they tried to sneak into the building, occasional spies of our own leaving the Project in tiny radiation-proof cars, hoping to get safely within another project and bring back news of any immediate threats and dangers that project might be planning for us. Most spies didn't return; most ore-sleds did. And within the Project life was full, the knowledge of external dangers merely lurking at the backs of our minds. After all, those external dangers had been no more than potential for decades, since what Dr. Kilbillie called the Ungentlemanly Gentleman's War.\n \n Dr. Kilbillie—Intermediate Project History, when I was fifteen years old—had private names for every major war of the twentieth century. There was the Ignoble Nobleman's War, the Racial Non-Racial War, and the Ungentlemanly Gentleman's War, known to the textbooks of course as World Wars One, Two, and Three.\n \n The rise of the Projects, according to Dr. Kilbillie, was the result of many many factors, but two of the most important were the population explosion and the Treaty of Oslo. The population explosion, of course, meant that there was continuously more and more people but never any more space. So that housing, in the historically short time of one century, made a complete transformation from horizontal expansion to vertical. Before 1900, the vast majority of human beings lived in tiny huts of from one to five stories. By 2000, everybody lived in Projects. From the very beginning, small attempts were made to make these Projects more than dwelling places. By mid-century, Projects\n(also called apartments and co-ops) already included restaurants, shopping centers, baby-sitting services, dry cleaners and a host of other adjuncts. By the end of the century, the Projects were completely self-sufficient, with food grown hydroponically in the sub-basements, separate floors set aside for schools and churches and factories, robot ore-sleds capable of seeking out raw materials unavailable within the Projects themselves and so on. And all because of, among other things, the population explosion.\n \n And the Treaty of Oslo.\n \n It seems there was a power-struggle between two sets of then-existing nations (they were something like Projects, only horizontal instead of vertical) and both sets were equipped with atomic weapons. The Treaty of Oslo began by stating that atomic war was unthinkable, and added that just in case anyone happened to think of it only tactical atomic weapons could be used. No strategic atomic weapons. (A tactical weapon is something you use on the soldiers, and a strategic weapons is something you use on the folks at home.) Oddly enough, when somebody did think of the war, both sides adhered to the Treaty of Oslo, which meant that no Projects were bombed.\n \n Of course, they made up for this as best they could by using tactical atomic weapons all over the place. After the war almost the whole world was quite dangerously radioactive. Except for the Projects. Or at least those of them which had in time installed the force screens which had been invented on the very eve of battle, and which deflected radioactive particles.\n \n However, what with all of the other treaties which were broken during the Ungentlemanly Gentleman's War, by the time it was finished nobody was quite sure any more who was on whose side. That project over there on the horizon might be an ally. And then again it might not. Since they weren't sure either, it was risky to expose yourself in order to ask.\n \n And so life went on, with little to remind us of the dangers lurking Outside. The basic policy of Eternal Vigilance and Instant Preparedness was left to the Army. The rest of us simply lived our lives and let it go at that.\n \n \n\n \n But now there was a spy in the elevator.\n \n When I thought of how deeply he had penetrated our defenses, and of how many others there might be, still penetrating, I shuddered. The walls were our safeguards only so long as all potential enemies were on the other side of them.\n \n I sat shaken, digesting this news, until suddenly I remembered Linda.\n \n I leaped to my feet, reading from my watch that it was now ten-fifteen. I dashed once more from the apartment and down the hall to the elevator, praying that the spy had been captured by now and that Linda would agree with me that a spy in the elevator was good and sufficient reason for me to be late.\n \n He was still there. At least, the elevator was still out.\n \n I sagged against the wall, thinking dismal thoughts. Then I noticed the door to the right of the elevator. Through that door was the stairway.\n \n I hadn't paid any attention to it before. No one ever uses the stairs except adventurous young boys playing cops and robbers, running up and down from landing to landing. I myself hadn't set foot on a flight of stairs since I was twelve years old.\n \n Actually, the whole idea of stairs was ridiculous. We had elevators, didn't we? Usually, I mean, when they didn't contain spies. So what was the use of stairs?\n \n Well, according to Dr. Kilbillie (a walking library of unnecessary information), the Project had been built when there still had been such things as municipal governments (something to do with cities, which were more or less grouped Projects), and the local municipal government had had on its books a fire ordinance, anachronistic even then, which required a complete set of stairs in every building constructed in the city. Ergo, the Project had stairs, thirty-two hundred of them.\n \n And now, after all these years, the stairs might prove useful after all. It was only thirteen flights to Linda's floor. At sixteen steps a flight, that meant two hundred and eight steps.\n \n Could I descend two hundred and eight steps for my true love? I could. If the door would open.\n \n It would, though reluctantly. Who knew how many years it had been since last this door had been opened? It squeaked and wailed and groaned and finally opened half way. I stepped through to the musty, dusty landing, took a deep breath, and started down. Eight steps and a landing, eight steps and a floor. Eight steps and a landing, eight steps and a floor.\n \n On the landing between one fifty and one forty-nine, there was a smallish door. I paused, looking curiously at it, and saw that at one time letters had been painted on it. The letters had long since flaked away, but they left a lighter residue of dust than that which covered the rest of the door. And so the words could still be read, if with difficulty.\n \n I read them. They said:\n \n \n EMERGENCY ENTRANCE ELEVATOR SHAFT AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY KEEP LOCKED\n \n I frowned, wondering immediately why this door wasn't being firmly guarded by at least a platoon of Army men. Half a dozen possible answers flashed through my mind. The more recent maps might simply have omitted this discarded and unnecessary door. It might be sealed shut on the other side. The Army might have caught the spy already. Somebody in authority might simply have goofed.\n \n As I stood there, pondering these possibilities, the door opened and the spy came out, waving a gun.\n \n \n\n III\n \n He couldn't have been anyone else but the spy. The gun, in the first place. The fact that he looked harried and upset and terribly nervous, in the second place. And, of course, the fact that he came from the elevator shaft.\n \n Looking back, I think he must have been just as startled as I when we came face to face like that. We formed a brief tableau, both of us open-mouthed and wide-eyed.\n \n Unfortunately, he recovered first.\n \n He closed the emergency door behind him, quickly but quietly. His gun stopped waving around and instead pointed directly at my middle. \"Don't move!\" he whispered harshly. \"Don't make a sound!\"\n \n I did exactly as I was told. I didn't move and I didn't make a sound. Which left me quite free to study him.\n \n He was rather short, perhaps three inches shorter than me, with a bony high-cheekboned face featuring deepset eyes and a thin-lipped mouth. He wore gray slacks and shirt, with brown slippers on his feet. He looked exactly like a spy ... which is to say that he didn't look like a spy, he looked overpoweringly ordinary. More than anything else, he reminded me of a rather taciturn milkman who used to make deliveries to my parents' apartment.\n \n His gaze darted this way and that. Then he motioned with his free hand at the descending stairs and whispered, \"Where do they go?\"\n \n I had to clear my throat before I could speak. \"All the way down,\" I said.\n \n \"Good,\" he said—just as we both heard a sudden raucous squealing from perhaps four flights down, a squealing which could be nothing but the opening of a hall door. It was followed by the heavy thud of ascending boots. The Army!\n \n But if I had any visions of imminent rescue, the spy dashed them. He said, \"Where do you live?\"\n \n \"One fifty-three,\" I said. This was a desperate and dangerous man. I knew my only slim chance of safety lay in answering his questions promptly, cooperating with him until and unless I saw a chance to either escape or capture him.\n \n \"All right,\" he whispered. \"Go on.\" He prodded me with the gun.\n \n And so we went back up the stairs to one fifty-three, and stopped at the door. He stood close behind me, the gun pressed against my back, and grated in my ear, \"I'll have this gun in my pocket. If you make one false move I'll kill you. Now, we're going to your apartment. We're friends, just strolling along together. You got that?\"\n \n I nodded.\n \n \"All right. Let's go.\"\n \n We went. I have never in my life seen that long hall quite so empty as it was right then. No one came out of any of the apartments, no one emerged from any of the branch halls. We walked to my apartment. I thumbed the door open and we went inside.\n \n Once the door was closed behind us, he visibly relaxed, sagging against the door, his gun hand hanging limp at his side, a nervous smile playing across his lips.\n \n I looked at him, judging the distance between us, wondering if I could leap at him before he could bring the gun up again. But he must have read my intentions on my face. He straightened, shaking his head. He said, \"Don't try it. I don't want to kill you. I don't want to kill anybody, but I will if I have to. We'll just wait here together until the hue and cry passes us. Then I'll tie you up, so you won't be able to sic your Army on me too soon, and I'll leave. If you don't try any silly heroics, nothing will happen to you.\"\n \n \"You'll never get away,\" I told him. \"The whole Project is alerted.\"\n \n \"You let me worry about that,\" he said. He licked his lips. \"You got any chico coffee?\"\n \n \"Yes.\"\n \n \"Make me a cup. And don't get any bright ideas about dousing me with boiling water.\"\n \n \"I only have my day's allotment,\" I protested. \"Just enough for two cups, lunch and dinner.\"\n \n \"Two cups is fine,\" he said. \"One for each of us.\"\n \n \n\n \n And now I had yet another grudge against this blasted spy. Which reminded me again of Linda. From the looks of things, I wasn't ever going to get to her place. By now she was probably in mourning for me and might even have the Sanitation Staff searching for my remains.\n \n As I made the chico, he asked me questions. My name first, and then,\n\"What do you do for a living?\"\n \n I thought fast. \"I'm an ore-sled dispatcher,\" I said. That was a lie, of course, but I'd heard enough about ore-sled dispatching from Linda to be able to maintain the fiction should he question me further about it.\n \n Actually, I was a gymnast instructor. The subjects I taught included wrestling, judo and karati—talents I would prefer to disclose to him in my own fashion, when the time came.\n \n He was quiet for a moment. \"What about radiation level on the ore-sleds?\"\n \n I had no idea what he was talking about, and admitted as much.\n \n \"When they come back,\" he said. \"How much radiation do they pick up? Don't you people ever test them?\"\n \n \"Of course not,\" I told him. I was on secure ground now, with Linda's information to guide me. \"All radiation is cleared from the sleds and their cargo before they're brought into the building.\"\n \n \"I know that,\" he said impatiently. \"But don't you ever check them before de-radiating them?\"\n \n \n\n \n \"No. Why should we?\"\n \n \"To find out how far the radiation level outside has dropped.\"\n \n \"For what? Who cares about that?\"\n \n He frowned bitterly. \"The same answer,\" he muttered, more to himself than to me. \"The same answer every time. You people have crawled into your caves and you're ready to stay in them forever.\"\n \n I looked around at my apartment. \"Rather a well-appointed cave,\" I told him.\n \n \"But a cave nevertheless.\" He leaned toward me, his eyes gleaming with a fanatical flame. \"Don't you ever wish to get Outside?\"\n \n Incredible! I nearly poured boiling water all over myself. \"Outside? Of course not!\"\n \n \"The same thing,\" he grumbled, \"over and over again. Always the same stupidity. Listen, you! Do you realize how long it took man to get out of the caves? The long slow painful creep of progress, for millennia, before he ever made that first step from the cave?\"\n \n \"I have no idea,\" I told him.\n \n \"I'll tell you this,\" he said belligerently. \"A lot longer than it took for him to turn around and go right back into the cave again.\" He started pacing the floor, waving the gun around in an agitated fashion as he talked. \"Is this the natural life of man? It is not. Is this even a desirable life for man? It is definitely not.\" He spun back to face me, pointing the gun at me again, but this time he pointed it as though it were a finger, not a gun. \"Listen, you,\" he snapped.\n\"Man was progressing. For all his stupidities and excesses, he was growing up. His dreams were getting bigger and grander and better all the time. He was planning to tackle space ! The moon first, and then the planets, and finally the stars. The whole universe was out there, waiting to be plucked like an apple from a tank. And Man was reaching out for it.\" He glared as though daring me to doubt it.\n \n \n\n \n I decided that this man was doubly dangerous. Not only was he a spy, he was also a lunatic. So I had two reasons for humoring him. I nodded politely.\n \n \"So what happened?\" he demanded, and immediately answered himself.\n\"I'll tell you what happened! Just as he was about to make that first giant step, Man got a hotfoot. That's all it was, just a little hotfoot. So what did Man do? I'll tell you what he did. He turned around and he ran all the way back to the cave he started from, his tail between his legs. That's what he did!\"\n \n To say that all of this was incomprehensible would be an extreme understatement. I fulfilled my obligation to this insane dialogue by saying, \"Here's your coffee.\"\n \n \"Put it on the table,\" he said, switching instantly from raving maniac to watchful spy.\n \n I put it on the table. He drank deep, then carried the cup across the room and sat down in my favorite chair. He studied me narrowly, and suddenly said, \"What did they tell you I was? A spy?\"\n \n \"Of course,\" I said.\n \n He grinned bitterly, with one side of his mouth. \"Of course. The damn fools! Spy! What do you suppose I'm going to spy on?\"\n \n He asked the question so violently and urgently that I knew I had to answer quickly and well, or the maniac would return. \"I—I wouldn't know, exactly,\" I stammered. \"Military equipment, I suppose.\"\n \n \"Military equipment? What military equipment? Your Army is supplied with uniforms, whistles and hand guns, and that's about it.\"\n \n \"The defenses—\" I started.\n \n \"The defenses,\" he interrupted me, \"are non-existent. If you mean the rocket launchers on the roof, they're rusted through with age. And what other defenses are there? None.\"\n \n \"If you say so,\" I replied stiffly. The Army claimed that we had adequate defense equipment. I chose to believe the Army over an enemy spy.\n \n \"Your people send out spies, too, don't they?\" he demanded.\n \n \"Well, of course.\"\n \n \"And what are they supposed to spy on?\"\n \n \"Well—\" It was such a pointless question, it seemed silly to even answer it. \"They're supposed to look for indications of an attack by one of the other projects.\"\n \n \"And do they find any indications, ever?\"\n \n \"I'm sure I don't know,\" I told him frostily. \"That would be classified information.\"\n \n \"You bet it would,\" he said, with malicious glee. \"All right, if that's what your spies are doing, and if I'm a spy, then it follows that I'm doing the same thing, right?\"\n \n \"I don't follow you,\" I admitted.\n \n \"If I'm a spy,\" he said impatiently, \"then I'm supposed to look for indications of an attack by you people on my Project.\"\n \n I shrugged. \"If that's your job,\" I said, \"then that's your job.\"\n \n He got suddenly red-faced, and jumped to his feet. \"That's not my job, you blatant idiot!\" he shouted. \"I'm not a spy! If I were a spy, then that would be my job!\"\n \n \n\n \n The maniac had returned, in full force. \"All right,\" I said hastily.\n\"All right, whatever you say.\"\n \n He glowered at me a moment longer, then shouted, \"Bah!\" and dropped back into the chair.\n \n He breathed rather heavily for a while, glaring at the floor, then looked at me again. \"All right, listen. What if I were to tell you that I had found indications that you people were planning to attack my Project?\"\n \n I stared at him. \"That's impossible!\" I cried. \"We aren't planning to attack anybody! We just want to be left in peace!\"\n \n \"How do I know that?\" he demanded.\n \n \"It's the truth! What would we want to attack anybody for?\"\n \n \"Ah hah!\" He sat forward, tensed, pointing the gun at me like a finger again. \"Now, then,\" he said. \"If you know it doesn't make any sense for this Project to attack any other project, then why in the world should you think they might see some advantage in attacking you ?\"\n \n I shook my head, dumbfounded. \"I can't answer a question like that,\" I said. \"How do I know what they're thinking?\"\n \n \"They're human beings, aren't they?\" he cried. \"Like you? Like me? Like all the other people in this mausoleum?\"\n \n \"Now, wait a minute—\"\n \n \"No!\" he shouted. \"You wait a minute! I want to tell you something. You think I'm a spy. That blundering Army of yours thinks I'm a spy. That fathead who turned me in thinks I'm a spy. But I'm not a spy, and I'm going to tell you what I am.\"\n \n I waited, looking as attentive as possible.\n \n \"I come,\" he said, \"from a Project about eighty miles north of here. I came here by foot, without any sort of radiation shield at all to protect me.\"\n \n The maniac was back. I didn't say a word. I didn't want to set off the violence that was so obviously in this lunatic.\n \n \"The radiation level,\" he went on, \"is way down. It's practically as low as it was before the Atom War. I don't know how long it's been that low, but I would guess about ten years, at the very least.\" He leaned forward again, urgent and serious. \"The world is safe out there now. Man can come back out of the cave again. He can start building the dreams again. And this time he can build better, because he has the horrible example of the recent past to guide him away from the pitfalls. There's no need any longer for the Projects.\"\n \n And that was like saying there's no need any longer for stomachs, but I didn't say so. I didn't say anything at all.\n \n \"I'm a trained atomic engineer,\" he went on. \"In my project, I worked on the reactor. Theoretically, I believed that there was a chance the radiation Outside was lessening by now, though we had no idea exactly how much radiation had been released by the Atom War. But I wanted to test the theory, and the Commission wouldn't let me. They claimed public safety, but I knew better. If the Outside were safe and the Projects were no longer needed, then the Commission was out of a job, and they knew it.", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "5ba05cf019a04334ad6d71a38d6de78d", "response_text": "      It was one of those days when everything that could go wrong, goes wrong. Edmund Rice, the main character, has decided to propose to his girlfriend, Linda on the day when the story takes place, but at breakfast, he broke his egg yolk; he had a stuck zipper; he had feedback in the aircon exhaust; and his window stuck at full transparency. On top of all that, the elevator is late. Edmund’s girlfriend is a dispatcher for ore-sled robots; when one doesn’t return on time, they know that the robot has been been captured and therefore blown itself up. As a result, Linda is a real stickler for punctuality because if Edmund is late, as he was once before, she goes into hysterics thinking that something horrible has happened to him. \n     When the elevator doesn’t come, Edmund goes back to his apartment to call Linda to let her know why he will be late, but she has set her phone not to accept calls since she was expecting Edmund to come propose to her. Edmund decides to complain to the Transit Staff, who give him the official statement that the elevator is disconnected, but when Edmund explains that the late elevator is ruining his life, the operator takes pity on him and secretly tells him there is a spy on the elevator who won’t get off, and the Army might have to starve him to make him exit. Finally, at 10:15, Edmund thinks of taking the stairs, but when he does, the spy intercepts him, forcing him at gunpoint back to Edmund’s apartment. At this point, Edmund gives up on reaching Linda.\n     The spy tells Edmund he doesn’t want to hurt him and begins a conversation, asking what Edmund does for a living. Because Edmund doesn’t want the spy to know that he teaches gymnastics and knows wrestling, judo, and karati, he lies and tells him he is an ore-sled operator, figuring he can pull off the ruse since he knows a lot about Linda’s job. This piques the spy’s interest, and he asks what Edmund knows about the radiation level of the ore-sleds when they return. Edmund says they don’t check for radiation before de-radiating the sled; there’s no point. The spy is irritated that Edmund doesn’t even care about the radiation level outside the Project and compares the Projects to caves. \nThe spy goes on to tell Edmund he isn’t a spy, that he is an atomic engineer from a Project 80 miles north. He traveled to Edmund’s Project on foot without any kind of radiation shield to prove that the radiation level is so low that it is safe for people to leaves the Projects. He is trying to get the word out, but people don’t believe him because their Commissions tell them the radiation level is still high and that it isn’t safe to go outside. Edmund thinks the man is a lunatic and doesn’t believe any of the ludicrous claims he makes.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "3f46b95abb434ddf8e25a29d51c53dea", "response_text": "Edmund Rice lives in one of the Projects and has finally decided to propose to his girlfriend for a Non-P marriage. He set the time with her before, 10 o’clock sharp, and prepared himself that morning. He steps outside his apartment with a few minutes to spare but soon realizes that the elevator isn’t working. He waits for a minute or two, starting to freak out, then rushes inside to call Linda and warn her. She hates tardiness because of her job as an ore-sled dispatcher, and he didn’t want to upset her on the big day. Her landline was disconnected for privacy’s sake, so he couldn’t let her know. He runs back to the elevator and keeps trying, but to no avail. Officially late, he goes back to his apartment and calls the Transit Staff. A young woman picks up and robotically tells him that the elevator will be back in service soon. He yells at her, eventually explaining why she has ruined his life, and she responds sympathetically, clearly a romantic. She leans forward and tells him the truth: there’s a spy in the elevator. He is in shock, but she explains the whole situation and how they’re worried they’ll have to starve him out. Finished, she hangs up, and Edmund runs back to the elevator in the hopes that they successfully removed him. \nHe is saddened to find it still not working, so he decides to take the stairs, which no one does. A few landings down, he sees a door with faint lettering on it, explaining that this once led to the elevator shaft. He wonders briefly why no one is guarding it, and then suddenly the spy comes out of the door. The spy holds a gun up to his head and tells him to stay quiet and take him back to his room. They return to the 153rd floor, and Edmund harbors him in his apartment. The spy asks for a cup of Chico coffee, which saddens Edmund as he only gets two cups a day. Edmund lies about his identity and pretends he’s an ore-sled dispatcher, like Linda. He is, in fact, a gymnast instructor with martial arts abilities, but he wants to have the advantage of surprise should the situation take a violent turn. \nThey chat while Edmund makes him the coffee, and the spy grows agitated and manic. He tries to explain to Edmund that he’s not really a spy. He actually came from another Project 80 miles away on foot. He is the proof that the radiation levels outside have dramatically decreased, making it safe for humans to go outside again. However, the Commission doesn’t want the world to know that as then they would quickly go out of business. The spy reveals he’s an atomic engineer, and the story ends on a slight cliffhanger. \n"}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "4f3b0ec4861841e5aabff37228fe5716", "response_text": "In the years following World War III, atomic radiation and rapid population growth had led nations to develop vertically rather than horizontally, and people lived together in massive high-rises called Projects where they could live, work, and play while never having to go Outside and face the dangers of radiation. Only ore-sleds and spies leave the buildings--the ore-sleds to gather essential raw materials impossible to produce in the Projects, and the spies to visit other Projects to learn about potential attacks on their home Project. Edmund Rice is a gymnast instructor who lives on the hundred fifty-third floor of one of these Projects. He plans to propose Non-Permanent marriage to his girlfriend Linda, who is an ore-sled dispatcher obsessed with punctuality. The morning of his planned proposal, set for 10:00 sharp, Edmund goes to the elevator to travel down to Linda's hundred fortieth floor and discovers the elevator is unresponsive. He continues pressing the button to no avail. He runs back to his apartment to alert Linda and discovers her phone has a \"privacy disconnection\" notice, probably placed because Linda expected Edmund's proposal. When the elevator continuously fails to arrive, Edmund calls the Transit Staff to inquire what is going wrong. The staff person informs him that a spy has penetrated the Project force-screen and is barricading himself in the elevator. Using manual controls, the spy wields the elevator like a projectile weapon against any soldier that approaches. Stunned, Edmund makes a last-ditch effort to reach Linda. He uses the stairs, an option he hasn't taken since he was a young child. A few flights down, he sees an emergency exit from the elevator, and the spy emerges from it. The spy holds him at gun point and leads him back to his apartment, where the two men share a coffee. The spy reveals he is not a spy at all; rather, he is a trained atomic engineer who claims radiation levels have reduced to such an extent that people may now safely venture Outside. The reason this is not common knowledge is because the Commission suppresses the truth so that is may keep making money from the continued operation of the Projects."}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "a25db6ceb09b4ed688b823115f72c336", "response_text": "Some time after the year 2100, humans live in vertical buildings called Projects that are completely isolated from each other and nations unto themselves. Decades ago, the Ungentlemanly Gentleman's War involved so much atomic bombing that the radiation levels outside are said to be too unsafe for humans. The Projects are all suspicious of each other, supposedly sending spies out to see whether attacks are being planned. There hasn’t been an attack in decades, and the external threats largely just exist as fears in the minds of the people.\nEdmund Rice leaves his 153rd floor apartment in his Project at five minutes to ten to propose to an ore-sled dispatcher who lives on the 144th floor that he is deeply in love with named Linda. He plans to propose a Non-P marriage (Non-Permanent, No Progeny) since neither of them are genetically desirable enough to have children in their society, and he knows that Linda wants to keep her independence. The ten o’clock time of the appointment is significant because Linda is so punctual that Edmund believes she will not marry him if he is late. However, the elevator is not working and does not respond to pressing the button and kicking the door. Becoming frantic, he runs back to his apartment and calls Linda, but she does not answer. She likely disconnected her phone because she wanted to have no interruptions when Edmund arrived. He furiously calls the Transit Staff to file a complaint, and tells the woman that his life has been ruined. She feels bad for him and tells him secret information that there is a spy in the elevator and that the Army thinks they may have to starve him out. Edmund then realizes he can take an ancient thing called the stairs. He rushes to the staircase even though it is already quarter past ten and races down. He spots a door to the elevator shaft on the landing between the 150th and 149th floors, and a man -the spy- bursts out of it. The spy uses a gun to threaten Edmund and forces him to take them both back to hide in Edmund’s apartment to lose the Army that had been racing up the stairs behind them. In the apartment, the spy asks Edmund to make him a cup of coffee and begins a conversation, acting like a maniac in Edmund’s perception at times. The spy reveals he is an atomic engineer who worked on the reactor in his own Project. He calculated that the radiation from the war decades ago must have subsided, and it would be safe for humans to leave the Projects and resume progress on other advances like space travel. The Commission would not let him test the theory, so he risked his life by traveling outside to determine if it was indeed true. His survival of the crossing is proof that the radiation is low enough for humans to survive outside, and Edmund can hardly believe what he is hearing."}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Linda, and what is her significance in the story?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "5ba05cf019a04334ad6d71a38d6de78d", "response_text": "     Linda is the woman to whom Edmund intends to propose. She is the reason Edmund is trying to get on the elevator and why he ultimately decides to take the stairs, leading him to meet the spy. Linda’s job as an ore-sled operator has left her high-strung when it comes to punctuality. She sends robots out with ore-sleds, and when they don’t return on time, they know that the robot has been captured and has blown itself up to prevent other Projects from learning their technology secrets. Once when Edmund was late for a date with her, Linda worked herself into hysterics, and when he did show up, she refused to speak to Edmund for four days. \n\tEdmund has spent months building up the courage to propose to Linda, and the day he plans to do it, everything goes awry, making him run late. But he still reaches the elevator in time to reach Linda’s place thirteen stories below his level on time, except the elevator doesn’t come. The longer he waits for the elevator car, the more anxious Edmund grows, knowing that Linda will be so upset if he is late he won’t get to propose.\n\tEdmund loves Linda and would like to have a permanent marriage, but he realizes that Linda enjoys her freedom and independence too much to agree to a permanent marriage. Edmund will settle for a Non-P marriage with her: Non-Permanent, No Progeny. \n\tLinda anticipates Edmund’s proposal when he calls that morning to invite himself to her apartment. He can tell by her smile on the phone. In preparation for the proposal, Linda has set her phone to PRIVACY DISCONNECTION to prevent their proposal from being interrupted, but this also means that Edmund cannot reach her to let her know he is running late and why. Edmund is convinced that she won’t speak to him again after being late for the proposal and certainly will not accept his proposal. In a last-ditch effort to reach Linda, Edmund decides he can take 208 stairs to reach her, even though he hasn’t taken the stairs since he was 12 years old. This decision, of course, puts him in the path to run into the spy.\n\tFinally, Linda’s job helps Edmund believe he can overtake the spy if he can catch him off guard. Edmund knows enough about her job to talk about it with the spy, keeping his knowledge of wrestling, judo, and karate secret until he can make his move.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "3f46b95abb434ddf8e25a29d51c53dea", "response_text": "Linda is Edmund Rice’s fianceé-to-be and current girlfriend. They have been together presumably for quite some time, as he knows quite a bit about her. Her one flaw, as he likes to say, is her absolute adherence to punctuality. Edmund recalls when he was late to meet her by a few minutes, and she broke down in tears thinking he had died. Her adherence comes from her job as an ore-sled dispatcher; when an ore-sled doesn’t return, it means the sled has been captured or destroyed. Linda is a very independent woman and, according to Edmund, would never into a long-term marriage, only a Non-P marriage (Non-Permanent and No Progeny). \nLinda is significant to the story because she provides the basis for conflict. Edmund is on his way to propose to Linda when he realizes the elevator is stuck. He realizes he will be late and freaks out, which leads him on the path to running into the so-called spy. \n"}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "4f3b0ec4861841e5aabff37228fe5716", "response_text": "Linda is Edmund Rice's girlfriend who works as an ore-dispatcher at the same Project where Edmund lives. She lives on Floor 140 while Edmund lives on 153, and he frequently visits her using the local elevator. Due to the nature of her work, Linda has developed an obsession with punctuality, and she cannot handle the smallest deviation from set appointment times. Once, she and Edmund had first started dating, Edmund arrived at her apartment five minutes late to find Linda in complete hysterics; she thought Edmund had been killed. When Edmund explained he had simply been late, she didn't speak to him for four days. This explains Edmund's panic when the elevator fails to arrive the morning he plans to propose to Linda at 10:00 precisely. Linda anticipates the proposal, so she switches her phone to \"privacy disconnection\" mode in order to prevent them from being disturbed when Edmunds pops the question. Although Edmund will not admit that he loves Linda in more than a Non-Permanent way, he understands that Linda cherishes her freedom and independence, so he plans for his proposal to be of the Non-Permanent, No Progeny variety."}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "a25db6ceb09b4ed688b823115f72c336", "response_text": "Linda is an ore-sled dispatcher, and after three years working in the profession has become quite obsessed with punctuality. If the ore-sleds aren’t on time, nobody waits for them. They are assumed to be blown up or captured by other Projects. She does not accept tardiness with ease, and once gave Edmund Rice the silent treatment for four days when he was late to meet her. She is in a relationship with Edmund, and expects that he will propose marriage to her when he tells her he has something important to talk about. \nShe is significant to the story because her punctuality places great stress on Edmund when he knows he will be late. This causes him to frantically panic when the elevator is not working, and resort to using the stairwell to attempt to meet with her before their relationship deteriorates beyond repair. Linda’s reaction to tardiness is very strict, evidenced when Edmund describes to the Transit Staff when he files a complaint about the elevator that they have ruined his life and that Linda will no longer speak to him or even consider marrying him. Because Linda means so much to Edmund, he continues to try to get to her even when he knows he is over 15 minutes late. Trying the stairwell as his final effort to be with Linda causes him to run into the spy escaping the elevator shaft, which is the climax of the story. It is not revealed what happens between Linda and Edmund in the end.\n"}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the physical and social settings of the story.", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "5ba05cf019a04334ad6d71a38d6de78d", "response_text": "The story takes place some time after the year 2100, after World Wars I, II, and III have been fought. Due to the population explosion, by 2000, everyone lived in Projects. These Projects are vertically expanded buildings housing people on floors numbering up to two hundred; the Projects are self-contained and self-sufficient. The people in them do not have to go outside where they fear radiation from atomic bombs used in the wars still exists. The Projects provide restaurants, shopping centers, baby-sitting services, dry cleaners, schools, churches, factories, etc. Food is grown hydroponically. The Projects are protected by force screens that deflect the radiation and all have their own armies that are supposed to protect them from spies from other Projects.\n\tThe Projects have advanced technology. Telephones have visual capability that allows callers to see each other; this is how Edmund knows that Linda anticipates his proposal. They have robots that mine and collect ore using ore-sleds. The robots are equipped to self-detonate if they are captured. \n\tThe Projects are suspicious of each other because so many treaties were broken during the Ungentlemanly Gentleman’s War, so Projects aren’t willing to expose themself to the possible dangers of reaching out or allying with other Projects. The Army practices Eternal Vigilance and Instant Preparedness in case of danger, allowing the people in the Projects to just live their lives.The Treaty of Oslo provides a sense of safety because it means that Projects will not be bombed in case of war.\n\tSocially, not all marriages are intended to be permanent, especially if the couple is not genetically desirable. There is a Non-P marriage option in this case: Non-Permanent and No Progeny. In Non-P marriages, people contract to marry for a short term, such as one or two years. People are also scared of strangers; hence, the man in the elevator is deemed a spy before anyone even speaks with him.\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "3f46b95abb434ddf8e25a29d51c53dea", "response_text": "The Spy in the Elevator by Donald E. Westlake takes place in the century after the year 2000. After the third of the Ungentelamnly Wars, AKA World War III, Earth was scorched and full of radiation. The remaining population moved into self-sustaining Projects that feature 200+ floors of residential housing, churches, gyms, cafés, and even a hydroponic farm in the basement. Humans were locked away due to the deadly levels of radiation outside due to the tactical atomic bombings. Each Project defends itself with an Army and various equipment as no one is sure whether or not another Project will attack. \nThe Project that Edmund Rice and Linda live in has 200 floors and features all the normal amenities. The elevator, however, is the main source of travel, and no one uses the stairs anymore. Edmund’s room is modest, and he receives a small supply of food daily to prevent any waste. \n"}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "4f3b0ec4861841e5aabff37228fe5716", "response_text": "The Projects had been developed as a result of population booms and the Treaty of Oslo following Word War III, cheekily called the Ungentlemanly Gentleman's War by Edmunds Intermediate Project History teacher Dr. Kilbillie. Prior to 1900, everyone lived in small, one-to-five-story homes. By the year 2000, everyone lived in the giant high-rises called Projects, also known as apartments or co-ops. The Projects were several hundred stories tall and were essential compact nations that included restaurants, shopping centers, baby-sitting services, dry cleaners, etc. Eventually, the Projects became self-sustaining and added schools, churches, factories, robot ore-sleds, etc. The Treaty of Oslo disallowed deployment of strategic atomic weapons and only permitted the use of tactical weapons, which resulted in the world's current state of omnipresent radiation. In the years since, no one has left the buildings to go Outside, except the ore-sleds that seek out raw materials and the spies that invade the protective force-screens to seek out information about potential attacks from other Projects. The residents have developed a level of comfort with life in the Projects, even though they are only allotted a certain amount of food each day and can never leave. Later, the \"spy\" posits that the residents are being fed lies by the Commission, which runs the Projects and profits from their operation.\n"}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "a25db6ceb09b4ed688b823115f72c336", "response_text": "After the year 2100, humans live in Projects, which are self-sufficient vertical buildings that essentially govern themselves. Raw materials come in and out on ore-sleds and the humans in the Projects have no contact with the outside world. Vertical living became the norm because population explosion meant there was no more horizontal space for people to expand into. Then, with the onset of nuclear warfare in the Ungentlemanly Gentleman's War, the only safety for the public was to stay inside their residence in the Projects because of the Treaty of Oslo, which stipulates that in this era of atomic weapons, civilians are not to be targeted.\nThere has been so much atomic bombing that the radiation levels outside are said to be too unsafe for humans to endure. The Projects are suspicious of each other planning attacks, and there is high alert for spies from nearby projects infiltrating the building. The people within the Projects live in fear of atomic attacks, though they do not question the accuracy of what they have been told. There hasn’t been an attack in decades, and this threat is largely now just a fear in the minds of the people. They go on with their daily lives, not checking to see if the radiation from the outside remains too high to go outdoors, but just believing what they are told. \nIn one Project, on the 153rd floor lives Edmund Rice in a nicely appointed apartment building, with a video calling service he can use to dial other residents and the building Transit Staff, and he receives allotted rations of food just as all of the other residents do. The love of his life that he wishes to propose Non-P marriage to, Linda, lives on the 144th floor of the same building. There is a local elevator that serves the higher floors that Edmund frequently uses, though it is out of order due to a spy jamming its controls and hiding inside it. There is a stairwell next to the elevator, and on a landing between the 150th and 149th floor there is a small door to the elevator shaft. \nThe spy - an atomic engineer from a neighboring Project - has discovered that the radiation is actually low outside and it is now safe for humans to venture out. However, for Edmund and many others, the Project is all that they know, and the idea of going outside is radically against what they have been conditioned to believe.\n"}]}, {"question_text": "What is the significance of the spy in the elevator?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "5ba05cf019a04334ad6d71a38d6de78d", "response_text": "The spy thwarts Edmund’s planned proposal to Linda, but on a larger scale, he threatens the entire way of life in the Projects. The spy in the elevator isn’t really a spy, but the Army claims he is. It is in the interest of the Army and the Commissions of the Projects for people to believe that the radiation level outside the Projects is too high for people to survive because keeping people fearful keeps them in the Projects and needful of the Army and Commission. The people in the Projects are taught to be fearful of other Projects who might come and try to learn their secrets, military, technology, or otherwise. The Army is trying to capture the spy who has holed himself up in the elevator and is planning to starve him out if necessary. The spy uses logic to try to convince Edmund that he isn’t really a spy, that the Projects don’t really need to worry about spies, and that the Projects aren’t really needed at all.\n\tThe spy is actually an atomic engineer from a Project about 80 miles north of Edmund’s. He suspected that the radiation levels after the atomic war have dropped low enough to be safe for people to go outside the Projects. When he asks his Commission to be allowed to study this, he is refused. The Commission knows that if people can leave the Projects, there would be no need for the Commission. To secretly test his theory, the spy left his Project and walked all the way to Edmund’s project without a radiation shield. He is fine, and he is trying to convince the people in the Projects that it is safe to go outside; he compares the Projects to caves and the people to cavemen. He claims that the Projects are stunting society’s progress by keeping everyone “locked down.”\n\n"}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "3f46b95abb434ddf8e25a29d51c53dea", "response_text": "The first conflict is caused by the spy in the elevator, as he prevents Edmund from visiting and therefore proposing to Linda on time. This causes a chain of events that leads to their eventual meeting and Edmund’s partial captivity. While he harbors the alleged spy in his room after running into him on the stairwell, the spy reveals that he is not a spy at all. He came from a Project 80 miles away and walked to this one on foot. He claims the radiation levels are back to a healthy level and that they have been for years. He believes that the Commission is hiding the truth from people, because, if they knew, the Projects would go out of business, as people are not allowed to leave them for their own health and safety. "}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "4f3b0ec4861841e5aabff37228fe5716", "response_text": "When Edmund realizes the unmoving elevator is going to make him late for his proposal to Linda, he calls the Transit Staff. The staff person reveals to Edmund that a spy has barricaded himself in the elevator and with the help of manual controls is using it as a projectile against anyone who tries to get near him. Edmund had heard of spies going between Projects to try to learn information about any planned attacks, but he is surprised and scared to discover that a spy has managed to penetrate his Project's force-screen. He wonders what this will mean for the overall safety of the Project, but he doesn't dwell on this too long because he still needs to get to Linda. He makes his way down the stairs and encounters a small door, which turns out to be an emergency exit from the elevator shaft. The spy opens the shaft and orders Edmund to lead him back to his apartment at gunpoint. In the apartment, the spy demands coffee, and the two men talk. Edmund claims to be an ore-sled dispatcher, and the spy inquires if the dispatchers check radiation levels when the sleds return from a supply run. Edmund scoffs at this idea, claiming that there would be no point in doing so since the radiation is purged prior to entering the force-screen. The spy reveals himself to be an atomic engineer and tells Edmund that the Project defenses, as well as the claims of toxic radiation levels Outside, are nothing more than a smokescreen, a way to keep the residents of the Projects content to live inside and never venture out. He posits the Commission is responsible for this deception because they want to continue profiting from the operation of the Projects."}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "a25db6ceb09b4ed688b823115f72c336", "response_text": "The spy is discovered on the 147th floor of Edmund’s building, and runs into the elevator before the Army can catch him. The spy plugs the manual controls of the elevator so that he can’t be caught, and runs the elevator up and down the shaft if anyone tries to enter the car through the shaft. After he bursts out of the elevator shaft door into the stairwell and forces Edmund to take him back to his apartment to hide, we learn the real story of the spy. He is actually an atomic engineer from another Project where he was in charge of their reactor. He thought the radiation from the war decades ago would likely be so low now that it would be safe for humans to leave the Projects and go outside. However, the Commission would not let him test the theory, so he risked his life to travel to a nearby Project to find out for himself. Because he survived the crossing outside, it is now safe for humans to resume activities outside. This is very significant, because Edmund’s conditioning has him believe that there is no reason to question why they can’t go outside and that there is not going to be a life outside the Project. The spy gives Edmund a reason to believe that what he has been told by the Commission is untrue. Also, the ability of the spy to penetrate so deeply into the project undetected is a significant concern to Edmund, who considers the reliability of the safeguards to keep the people safe from outside enemies.\n"}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Edmund Rice, and what happens to him in the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "2", "uid": "5ba05cf019a04334ad6d71a38d6de78d", "response_text": "Edmund is eager to propose to his girlfriend. He truly loves her and would like a long marriage, but he is willing to settle for a Non-P marriage since he knows she values her freedom and independence. After gathering the courage to propose, he makes a date with her one morning, but multiple minor calamities make him run late. Linda is a stickler for punctuality, so on this morning, it is especially important to be on time. When he makes it to the elevator with five minutes to spare, his proposal is thwarted because a spy is holding it up. When he tries to call Linda to let her know he is running late, he can’t get the call through because she has set her phone not to be disturbed. When he learns that a spy is holding up the elevator and might be in there until the Army can starve him out, he decides to brave the 208 stairs down to Linda’s apartment, only to run into the spy there. The spy forces Edmund back to his apartment, where he explains he is not really a spy and that the radiation levels outside are so low it is safe for everyone to leave the projects. Edmund is sure the man is a lunatic despite the logic of his argument. He realizes that his chance to marry Linda is gone; she will never forgive him for being late."}, {"worker_id": "6", "uid": "3f46b95abb434ddf8e25a29d51c53dea", "response_text": "Edmund Rice is a gymnast and martial arts instructor living on the 153rd floor of one of the many Projects. He is in love with Linda, an ore-sled dispatcher who lives a few floors down from him, and wants to ask her to marry him. After eating his egg, he prepares himself to propose to Linda, reviewing his three speeches. He leaves with a few minutes to spare, but the elevator won’t work. He watches hopefully as time ticks by and finally accepts that he’s going to be late. He dashes back to his apartment to call Linda and warn her of his tardiness, but she has disconnected her landline. He goes back to the elevator, but still nothing. He storms home and calls the Transit Staff, yelling at the woman who picks up. After he shares his sob story, she reveals that the elevator isn’t working because there’s a spy in it who’s taken over the control system. Realizing just how late he is, Edmund runs back out, tries the elevator again, and then decides to take the stairs. On one of the landings, he notices a door with faint letters on it. This door connects to the elevator shaft. Suddenly, the spy bursts through the door and holds Edmund at gunpoint. Edmund hides him in his room and is forced to make the spy a cup of Chico coffee as he tells his tale. Edmund disguises his identity and pretends he’s an ore-sled dispatcher like Linda, so, if the time should come, he can take the so-called spy by surprise. "}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "4f3b0ec4861841e5aabff37228fe5716", "response_text": "Edmund Rice is a gymnast instructor specializing in wrestling, judo, and karati. He lives on the 153rd floor of a Project high-rise building and is preparing to propose to his girlfriend, Linda. Although he loves Linda and wants more than a Non-Permanent, No Progeny arrangement, he realizes she values her independence and plans to respect that. He has found a suitable Non-P apartment for them to share. Edmund's day is not going right. The egg yolk breaks when he prepares breakfast, his zipper sticks, the window is stuck open at full transparency. All of these minor problems are enhanced because he knows if he is even a minute late to his appointment with Linda, she will possibly think he is dead. Edmund gives himself plenty of time to get to the elevator, even though he knows the local and express elevators have a thirty-second arrival time, and it takes less than two minutes to get down to Linda's floor in the same building. When the elevator fails to arrive, Edmund panics. He tries to call Linda, but she has set the phone to private in anticipation of his proposal. Then, he calls the Transit Staff who tells him that the elevator is occupied by a spy, who has barricaded himself inside and is using the elevator as a projectile against anyone who might try to get him out. When Edmund tries to take the stairs to get to Linda, the spy stops him and leads him back to his apartment. Edmund attempts to mislead the spy by pretending to be an ore-sled dispatcher, but this only leads to the spy launching into a long diatribe against the existence of the Projects as smokescreens for the Commission wanting to maintain profits."}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "a25db6ceb09b4ed688b823115f72c336", "response_text": "Edmund Rice is the narrating voice of the story, and so the events that occur to him in the story closely mirror the plot since it is all told from his perspective. Edmund is a gymnast instructor, skilled in wrestling, judo and karati. He lives on the 153rd floor of a self-sufficient vertical city building in which no one is supposed to enter or leave. There are many like it in the world, all called “Projects”. The world outside is said to be too dangerous to set foot in for humans because of the radiation from atomic bombs during the Ungentlemanly Gentleman's War. \nHe is deeply in love with an ore-sled dispatcher on the 144th floor, Linda, and wants to propose a Non-P marriage to her (Non-Permanent, No Progeny). Neither of them are genetically desirable enough to have children, and he knows that Linda likes her independence too much to have a permanent marriage, even though he would like to have one with her. He makes an appointment to meet with her at ten o’clock and propose. The time of the appointment is important because Linda is so critical of punctuality that Edmund thinks she will not marry him or even talk to him again if he is late. When he exits his apartment to take the elevator at five minutes before ten, the elevator is not working. He returns to his apartment to call Linda, but she does not answer. He assumes she shut off her phone because he would be there soon and she wanted to have no interruptions. Edmund calls the Transit Staff to file a complaint that they have ruined his life, and the woman at the Transit center says there is a spy in the elevator and it will be some time before it can be fixed because the Army thinks they may have to starve him out. Edmund is crestfallen, then realizes that there are also stairs. It is 10:15, but he rushes to the staircase to try to get to Linda. As he races down, he notices a door to the elevator shaft between the 150th and 149th floors. He pauses to contemplate it, and suddenly a man (the “spy”) bursts out. He threatens Edmund with a gun, forcing him to escort them both back to Edmund’s 153rd floor room without alerting anyone. He does this. Edmund is forced to make him a cup of coffee, taking one of his two coffee rations for the day. Edmund fears that the spy is a maniac, and does as he asks while they wait for the Army to lose the trail so the spy will leave. The spy reveals to Edmund that he is actually an atomic engineer testing his theory that it is now safe for humans to go outside the Projects by risking his life since the Commission would not let him run experiments on it. Edmund is stunned since this is contrary to what he has been conditioned to believe. \n"}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "30029", "uid": "beb60ac6e67048dc9cb458afe7c16166", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "LOST IN TRANSLATION\n \n\n By\n \n\n LARRY M. HARRIS\n \n In language translation, you may get a literally accurate word-for-word translation ... but miss the meaning entirely. And in space-type translation ... the effect may be the same!\n \n\n Illustrated by Schoenherr\n \n\n \n The cell had been put together more efficiently than any Korvin had ever been in. But that was only natural, he told himself sadly; the Tr'en were an efficient people. All the preliminary reports had agreed on that; their efficiency, as a matter of fact, was what had made Korvin's arrival a necessity. They were well into the atomic era, and were on the verge of developing space travel. Before long they'd be settling the other planets of their system, and then the nearer stars. Faster-than-light travel couldn't be far away, for the magnificently efficient physical scientists of the Tr'en—and that would mean, in the ordinary course of events, an invitation to join the Comity of Planets.\n \n An invitation, the Comity was sure, which the Tr'en would not accept.\n \n Korvin stretched out on the cell's single bunk, a rigid affair which was hardly meant for comfort, and sighed. He'd had three days of isolation, with nothing to do but explore the resources of his own mind. He'd tried some of the ancient Rhine experiments, but that was no good; he still didn't show any particular psi talents. He couldn't unlock the cell door with his unaided mind; he couldn't even alter the probability of a single dust-mote's Brownian path through the somewhat smelly air. Nor could he disappear from his cell and appear, as if by magic, several miles away near the slightly-damaged hulk of his ship, to the wonder and amazement of his Tr'en captors.\n \n He could do, as a matter of fact, precisely nothing. He wished quietly that the Tr'en had seen fit to give him a pack of cards, or a book, or even a folder of tourist pictures. The Wonders of Tr'en, according to all the advance reports, were likely to be pretty boring, but they'd have been better than nothing.\n \n In any decently-run jail, he told himself with indignation, there would at least have been other prisoners to talk to. But on Tr'en Korvin was all alone.\n \n True, every night the guards came in and gave him a concentrated lesson in the local language, but Korvin failed to get much pleasure out of that, being unconscious at the time. But now he was equipped to discuss almost anything from philosophy to plumbing, but there was nobody to discuss it with. He changed position on the bunk and stared at the walls. The Tr'en were efficient; there weren't even any imperfections in the smooth surface to distract him.\n \n He wasn't tired and he wasn't hungry; his captors had left him with a full stock of food concentrates.\n \n But he was almightily bored, and about ready to tell anything to anyone, just for the chance at a little conversation.\n \n As he reached this dismal conclusion, the cell door opened. Korvin got up off the bunk in a hurry and spun around to face his visitor.\n \n The Tr'en was tall, and slightly green.\n \n He looked, as all the Tr'en did, vaguely humanoid—that is, if you don't bother to examine him closely. Life in the universe appeared to be rigidly limited to humanoid types on oxygen planets; Korvin didn't know why, and neither did anybody else. There were a lot of theories, but none that accounted for all the facts satisfactorily. Korvin really didn't care about it; it was none of his business.\n \n The Tr'en regarded him narrowly through catlike pupils. \"You are Korvin,\" he said.\n \n It was a ritual, Korvin had learned. \"You are of the Tr'en,\" he replied. The green being nodded.\n \n \"I am Didyak of the Tr'en,\" he said. Amenities over with, he relaxed slightly—but no more than slightly—and came into the cell, closing the door behind him. Korvin thought of jumping the Tr'en, but decided quickly against it. He was a captive, and it was unwise to assume that his captors had no more resources than the ones he saw: a small translucent pistollike affair in a holster at the Tr'en's side, and a small knife in a sheath at the belt. Those Korvin could deal with; but there might be almost anything else hidden and ready to fire on him.\n \n \"What do you want with me?\" Korvin said. The Tr'en speech—apparently there was only one language on the planet—was stiff and slightly awkward, but easily enough learned under drug hypnosis; it was the most rigorously logical construction of its kind Korvin had ever come across. It reminded him of some of the mathematical metalanguages he'd dealt with back on Earth, in training; but it was more closely and carefully constructed than even those marvels.\n \n \"I want nothing with you,\" Didyak said, leaning against the door-frame. \"You have other questions?\"\n \n Korvin sighed. \"What are you doing here, then?\" he asked. As conversation, it wasn't very choice; but it was, he admitted, better than solitude.\n \n \"I am leaning against the door,\" Didyak said. The Tr'en literalist approach to the smallest problems of everyday living was a little hard to get the hang of, Korvin told himself bitterly. He thought for a second.\n \n \"Why did you come to me?\" he said at last.\n \n Didyak beamed at him. The sight was remarkably unpleasant, involving as it did the disclosure of the Tr'en fifty-eight teeth, mostly pointed. Korvin stared back impassively. \"I have been ordered to come to you,\" Didyak said, \"by the Ruler. The Ruler wishes to talk with you.\"\n \n It wasn't quite \"talk\"; that was a general word in the Tr'en language, and Didyak had used a specific meaning, roughly: \"gain information from, by peaceful and vocal means.\" Korvin filed it away for future reference. \"Why did the Ruler not come to me?\" Korvin asked.\n \n \"The Ruler is the Ruler,\" Didyak said, slightly discomfited. \"You are to go to him. Such is his command.\"\n \n Korvin shrugged, sighed and smoothed back his hair. \"I obey the command of the Ruler,\" he said—another ritual. Everybody obeyed the command of the Ruler. If you didn't, you never had a second chance to try.\n \n But Korvin meant exactly what he'd said. He was going to obey the commands of the Ruler of the Tr'en—and remove the Tr'en threat from the rest of the galaxy forever.\n \n That, after all, was his job.\n \n \n \n The Room of the Ruler was large, square and excessively brown. The walls were dark-brown, the furnishings—a single great chair, several kneeling-benches and a small table near the chair—were light-brown, of some metallic substance, and even the drapes were tan. It was, Korvin decided, much too much of a bad idea, even when the color contrast of the Tr'en themselves were figured in.\n \n The Ruler himself, a Tr'en over seven feet tall and correspondingly broad, sat in the great chair, his four fingers tapping gently on the table near him, staring at Korvin and his guards. The guards stood on either side of their captive, looking as impassive as jade statues, six and a half feet high.\n \n Korvin wasn't attempting to escape. He wasn't pleading with the Ruler. He wasn't defying the Ruler, either. He was just answering questions.\n \n The Tr'en liked to have everything clear. They were a logical race. The Ruler had started with Korvin's race, his name, his sex—if any—and whether or not his appearance were normal for humanity.\n \n Korvin was answering the last question. \"Some men are larger than I am,\" he said, \"and some are smaller.\"\n \n \"Within what limits?\"\n \n Korvin shrugged. \"Some are over eight feet tall,\" he said, \"and others under four feet.\" He used the Tr'en measurement scale, of course; it didn't seem necessary, though, to mention that both extremes of height were at the circus-freak level. \"Then there is a group of humans,\" he went on, \"who are never more than a foot and a half in height, and usually less than that—approximately nine or ten inches. We call these children ,\" he volunteered helpfully.\n \n \"Approximately?\" the Ruler growled. \"We ask for precision here,\" he said. \"We are scientific men. We are exact.\"\n \n Korvin nodded hurriedly. \"Our race is more ... more approximate,\" he said apologetically.\n \n \"Slipshod,\" the Ruler muttered.\n \n \"Undoubtedly,\" Korvin agreed politely. \"I'll try to do the best I can for you.\"\n \n \"You will answer my questions,\" the Ruler said, \"with exactitude.\" He paused, frowning slightly. \"You landed your ship on this planet,\" he went on. \"Why?\"\n \n \"My job required it,\" Korvin said.\n \n \"A clumsy lie,\" the Ruler said. \"The ship crashed; our examinations prove that beyond any doubt.\"\n \n \"True,\" Korvin said.\n \n \"And it is your job to crash your ship?\" the Ruler said. \"Wasteful.\"\n \n Korvin shrugged again. \"What I say is true,\" he announced. \"Do you have tests for such matters?\"\n \n \"We do,\" the Ruler told him. \"We are an exact and a scientific race. A machine for the testing of truth has been adjusted to your physiology. It will be attached to you.\"\n \n Korvin looked around and saw it coming through the door, pushed by two technicians. It was large and squat and metallic, and it had wheels, dials, blinking lights, tubes and wires, and a seat with armrests and straps. It was obviously a form of lie-detector—and Korvin felt himself marveling again at this race. Earth science had nothing to match their enormous command of the physical universe; adapting a hypnopædic language-course to an alien being so quickly had been wonder enough, but adapting the perilously delicate mechanisms that necessarily made up any lie-detector machinery was almost a miracle. The Tr'en, under other circumstances, would have been a valuable addition to the Comity of Nations.\n \n Being what they were, though, they could only be a menace. And Korvin's appreciation of the size of that menace was growing hourly.\n \n He hoped the lie-detector had been adjusted correctly. If it showed him telling an untruth, he wasn't likely to live long, and his job—not to mention the strongest personal inclinations—demanded most strongly that he stay alive.\n \n He swallowed hard. But when the technicians forced him down into the seat, buckled straps around him, attached wires and electrodes and elastic bands to him at appropriate places and tightened some final screws, he made no resistance.\n \n \"We shall test the machine,\" the Ruler said. \"In what room are you?\"\n \n \"In the Room of the Ruler,\" Korvin said equably.\n \n \"Are you standing or sitting?\"\n \n \"I am sitting,\" Korvin said.\n \n \"Are you a chulad ?\" the Ruler asked. A chulad was a small native pet, Korvin knew, something like a greatly magnified deathwatch beetle.\n \n \"I am not,\" he said.\n \n \n \n The Ruler looked to his technicians for a signal, and nodded on receiving it. \"You will tell an untruth now,\" he said. \"Are you standing or sitting?\"\n \n \"I am standing,\" Korvin said.\n \n The technicians gave another signal. The Ruler looked, in his frowning manner, reasonably satisfied. \"The machine,\" he announced, \"has been adjusted satisfactorily to your physiology. The questioning will now continue.\"\n \n Korvin swallowed again. The test hadn't really seemed extensive enough to him. But, after all, the Tr'en knew their business, better than anyone else could know it. They had the technique and the logic and the training.\n \n He hoped they were right.\n \n The Ruler was frowning at him. Korvin did his best to look receptive.\n\"Why did you land your ship on this planet?\" the Ruler said.\n \n \"My job required it,\" Korvin said.\n \n The Ruler nodded. \"Your job is to crash your ship,\" he said. \"It is wasteful but the machines tell me it is true. Very well, then; we shall find out more about your job. Was the crash intentional?\"\n \n Korvin looked sober. \"Yes,\" he said.\n \n The Ruler blinked. \"Very well,\" he said. \"Was your job ended when the ship crashed?\" The Tr'en word, of course, wasn't ended , nor did it mean exactly that. As nearly as Korvin could make out, it meant\n\"disposed of for all time.\"\n \n \"No,\" he said.\n \n \"What else does your job entail?\" the Ruler said.\n \n Korvin decided to throw his first spoke into the wheel. \"Staying alive.\"\n \n The Ruler roared. \"Do not waste time with the obvious!\" he shouted.\n\"Do not try to trick us; we are a logical and scientific race! Answer correctly.\"\n \n \"I have told the truth,\" Korvin said.\n \n \"But it is not—not the truth we want,\" the Ruler said.\n \n Korvin shrugged. \"I replied to your question,\" he said. \"I did not know that there was more than one kind of truth. Surely the truth is the truth, just as the Ruler is the Ruler?\"\n \n \"I—\" The Ruler stopped himself in mid-roar. \"You try to confuse the Ruler,\" he said at last, in an approximation of his usual one. \"But the Ruler will not be confused. We have experts in matters of logic\"—the Tr'en word seemed to mean right-saying —\"who will advise the Ruler. They will be called.\"\n \n Korvin's guards were standing around doing nothing of importance now that their captor was strapped down in the lie-detector. The Ruler gestured and they went out the door in a hurry.\n \n The Ruler looked down at Korvin. \"You will find that you cannot trick us,\" he said. \"You will find that such fiddling\"— chulad-like Korvin translated—\"attempts will get you nowhere.\"\n \n Korvin devoutly hoped so.\n \n \n \n The experts in logic arrived shortly, and in no uncertain terms Korvin was given to understand that logical paradox was not going to confuse anybody on the planet. The barber who did, or didn't, shave himself, the secretary of the club whose members were secretaries, Achilles and the tortoise, and all the other lovely paradox-models scattered around were so much primer material for the Tr'en. \"They can be treated mathematically,\" one of the experts, a small emerald-green being, told Korvin thinly. \"Of course, you would not understand the mathematics. But that is not important. You need only understand that we cannot be confused by such means.\"\n \n \"Good,\" Korvin said.\n \n The experts blinked. \"Good?\" he said.\n \n \"Naturally,\" Korvin said in a friendly tone.\n \n The expert frowned horribly, showing all of his teeth. Korvin did his best not to react. \"Your plan is a failure,\" the expert said, \"and you call this a good thing. You can mean only that your plan is different from the one we are occupied with.\"\n \n \"True,\" Korvin said.\n \n There was a short silence. The expert beamed. He examined the indicators of the lie-detector with great care. \"What is your plan?\" he said at last, in a conspiratorial whisper.\n \n \"To answer your questions, truthfully and logically,\" Korvin said.\n \n The silence this time was even longer.\n \n \"The machine says that you tell the truth,\" the experts said at last, in a awed tone. \"Thus, you must be a traitor to your native planet. You must want us to conquer your planet, and have come here secretly to aid us.\"\n \n Korvin was very glad that wasn't a question. It was, after all, the only logical deduction.\n \n But it happened to be wrong.\n \n \n \n \"The name of your planet is Earth?\" the Ruler asked. A few minutes had passed; the experts were clustered around the single chair. Korvin was still strapped to the machine; a logical race makes use of a traitor, but a logical race does not trust him.\n \n \"Sometimes,\" Korvin said.\n \n \"It has other names?\" the Ruler said.\n \n \"It has no name,\" Korvin said truthfully. The Tr'en idiom was like the Earthly one; and certainly a planet had no name. People attached names to it, that was all. It had none of its own.\n \n \"Yet you call it Earth?\" the Ruler said.\n \n \"I do,\" Korvin said, \"for convenience.\"\n \n \"Do you know its location?\" the Ruler said.\n \n \"Not with exactitude,\" Korvin said.\n \n There was a stir. \"But you can find it again,\" the Ruler said.\n \n \"I can,\" Korvin said.\n \n \"And you will tell us about it?\" the Ruler went on.\n \n \"I will,\" Korvin said, \"so far as I am able.\"\n \n \"We will wish to know about weapons,\" the Ruler said, \"and about plans and fortifications. But we must first know of the manner of decision on this planet. Is your planet joined with others in a government or does it exist alone?\"\n \n Korvin nearly smiled. \"Both,\" he said.\n \n A short silence was broken by one of the attendant experts. \"We have theorized that an underling may be permitted to make some of his own decisions, leaving only the more extensive ones for the master. This seems to us inefficient and liable to error, yet it is a possible system. Is it the system you mean?\"\n \n Very sharp, Korvin told himself grimly. \"It is,\" he said.\n \n \"Then the government which reigns over several planets is supreme,\" the Ruler said.\n \n \"It is,\" Korvin said.\n \n \"Who is it that governs?\" the Ruler said.\n \n The key question had, at last, been asked. Korvin felt grateful that the logical Tr'en had determined to begin from the beginning, instead of going off after details of armament first; it saved a lot of time.\n \n \"The answer to that question,\" Korvin said, \"cannot be given to you.\"\n \n \"Any question of fact has an answer,\" the Ruler snapped. \"A paradox is not involved here; a government exists, and some being is the governor. Perhaps several beings share this task; perhaps machines do the work. But where there is a government, there is a governor. Is this agreed?\"\n \n \"Certainly,\" Korvin said. \"It is completely obvious and true.\"\n \n \"The planet from which you come is part of a system of planets which are governed, you have said,\" the Ruler went on.\n \n \"True,\" Korvin said.\n \n \"Then there is a governor for this system,\" the Ruler said.\n \n \"True,\" Korvin said again.\n \n The ruler sighed gently. \"Explain this governor to us,\" he said.\n \n Korvin shrugged. \"The explanation cannot be given to you.\"\n \n The Ruler turned to a group of his experts and a short muttered conversation took place. At its end the Ruler turned his gaze back to Korvin. \"Is the deficiency in you?\" he said. \"Are you in some way unable to describe this government?\"\n \n \"It can be described,\" Korvin said.\n \n \"Then you will suffer unpleasant consequences if you describe it to us?\" the Ruler went on.\n \n \"I will not,\" Korvin said.\n \n It was the signal for another conference. With some satisfaction, Korvin noticed that the Tr'en were becoming slightly puzzled; they were no longer moving and speaking with calm assurance.\n \n The plan was taking hold.\n \n The Ruler had finished his conference. \"You are attempting again to confuse us,\" he said.\n \n Korvin shook his head earnestly. \"I am attempting,\" he said, \"not to confuse you.\"\n \n \"Then I ask for an answer,\" the Ruler said.\n \n \"I request that I be allowed to ask a question,\" Korvin said.\n \n The Ruler hesitated, then nodded. \"Ask it,\" he said. \"We shall answer it if we see fit to do so.\"\n \n Korvin tried to look grateful. \"Well, then,\" he said, \"what is your government?\"\n \n The Ruler beckoned to a heavy-set green being, who stepped forward from a knot of Tr'en, inclined his head in Korvin's direction, and began. \"Our government is the only logical form of government,\" he said in a high, sweet tenor. \"The Ruler orders all, and his subjects obey. In this way uniformity is gained, and this uniformity aids in the speed of possible action and in the weight of action. All Tr'en act instantly in the same manner. The Ruler is adopted by the previous Ruler; in this way we are assured of a common wisdom and a steady judgment.\"\n \n \"You have heard our government defined,\" the Ruler said. \"Now, you will define yours for us.\"\n \n Korvin shook his head. \"If you insist,\" he said, \"I'll try it. But you won't understand it.\"\n \n The Ruler frowned. \"We shall understand,\" he said. \"Begin. Who governs you?\"\n \n \"None,\" Korvin said.\n \n \"But you are governed?\"\n \n Korvin nodded. \"Yes.\"\n \n \"Then there is a governor,\" the Ruler insisted.\n \n \"True,\" Korvin said. \"But everyone is the governor.\"\n \n \"Then there is no government,\" the Ruler said. \"There is no single decision.\"\n \n \"No,\" Korvin said equably, \"there are many decisions binding on all.\"\n \n \"Who makes them binding?\" the Ruler asked. \"Who forces you to accept these decisions? Some of them must be unfavorable to some beings?\"\n \n \"Many of them are unfavorable,\" Korvin said. \"But we are not forced to accept them.\"\n \n \"Do you act against your own interests?\"\n \n Korvin shrugged. \"Not knowingly,\" he said. The Ruler flashed a look at the technicians handling the lie-detector. Korvin turned to see their expression. They needed no words; the lie-detector was telling them, perfectly obviously, that he was speaking the truth. But the truth wasn't making any sense. \"I told you you wouldn't understand it,\" he said.\n \n \"It is a defect in your explanation,\" the Ruler almost snarled.\n \n \"My explanation is as exact as it can be,\" he said.\n \n The Ruler breathed gustily. \"Let us try something else,\" he said.\n\"Everyone is the governor. Do you share a single mind? A racial mind has been theorized, though we have met with no examples—\"\n \n \"Neither have we,\" Korvin said. \"We are all individuals, like yourselves.\"\n \n \"But with no single ruler to form policy, to make decisions—\"\n \n \"We have no need of one,\" Korvin said calmly.\n \n \"Ah,\" the Ruler said suddenly, as if he saw daylight ahead. \"And why not?\"\n \n \"We call our form of government democracy ,\" Korvin said. \"It means the rule of the people. There is no need for another ruler.\"\n \n One of the experts piped up suddenly. \"The beings themselves rule each other?\" he said. \"This is clearly impossible; for, no one being can have the force to compel acceptance of his commands. Without his force, there can be no effective rule.\"\n \n \"That is our form of government,\" Korvin said.\n \n \"You are lying,\" the expert said.\n \n One of the technicians chimed in: \"The machine tells us—\"\n \n \"Then the machine is faulty,\" the expert said. \"It will be corrected.\"\n \n Korvin wondered, as the technicians argued, how long they'd take studying the machine, before they realized it didn't have any defects to correct. He hoped it wasn't going to be too long; he could foresee another stretch of boredom coming. And, besides, he was getting homesick.\n \n It took three days—but boredom never really had a chance to set in. Korvin found himself the object of more attention than he had hoped for; one by one, the experts came to his cell, each with a different method of resolving the obvious contradictions in his statements.\n \n Some of them went away fuming. Others simply went away, puzzled.\n \n On the third day Korvin escaped.\n \n It wasn't very difficult; he hadn't thought it would be. Even the most logical of thinking beings has a subconscious as well as a conscious mind, and one of the ways of dealing with an insoluble problem is to make the problem disappear. There were only two ways of doing that, and killing the problem's main focus was a little more complicated. That couldn't be done by the subconscious mind; the conscious had to intervene somewhere. And it couldn't.\n \n Because that would mean recognizing, fully and consciously, that the problem was insoluble. And the Tr'en weren't capable of that sort of thinking.\n \n Korvin thanked his lucky stars that their genius had been restricted to the physical and mathematical. Any insight at all into the mental sciences would have given them the key to his existence, and his entire plan, within seconds.\n \n But, then, it was lack of that insight that had called for this particular plan. That, and the political structure of the Tr'en.\n \n The same lack of insight let the Tr'en subconscious work on his escape without any annoying distractions in the way of deep reflection. Someone left a door unlocked and a weapon nearby—all quite intent, Korvin was sure. Getting to the ship was a little more complicated, but presented no new problems; he was airborne, and then space-borne, inside of a few hours after leaving the cell.\n \n He set his course, relaxed, and cleared his mind. He had no psionic talents, but the men at Earth Central did; he couldn't receive messages, but he could send them. He sent one now.\n  Mission accomplished; the Tr'en aren't about to come marauding out into space too soon. They've been given food for thought—nice indigestible food that's going to stick in their craws until they finally manage to digest it. But they can't digest it and stay what they are; you've got to be democratic, to some extent, to understand the idea. What keeps us obeying laws we ourselves make? What keeps us obeying laws that make things inconvenient for us? Sheer self-interest, of course—but try to make a Tr'en see it!\n \n  With one government and one language, they just weren't equipped for translation. They were too efficient physically to try for the mental sciences at all. No mental sciences, no insight into my mind or their own—and that means no translation.\n \n  But—damn it—I wish I were home already.\n \n  I'm bored absolutely stiff!\n \n\n THE END", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "88b4e190c150413cb74b0321488233f5", "response_text": "Korvin sits in a cell after crash-landing on the planet of the Tr'en, which is populated by an extremely logical and intelligent humanoid race. Due to the speed of their scientific and technological advancements, the Comity of Planets will soon extend them an invitation, but Korvin believes they will not accept their offer. As a representative of Earth Central, he has been sent to Tr'en in order to find a way to prevent its people from marauding and settling other planets. In the days since Korvin's crash, the prison guards provide him with food and teach him the local language through drug hypnosis. He describes the language as \"stiff and slightly awkward\" but acknowledges its logical, meticulous construction. After several days imprisoned, a Tr'en named Didyak visits Korvin and informs him that he will be brought to The Ruler. When Korvin meets The Ruler--a massive, formidable Tr'en--he answers his questions to the best of his ability with respect to the logical constructions of the language. Korvin describes the physical appearance of adult humans as well as children, and The Ruler appears confused by the variations in height. The Ruler keeps emphasizing the importance of speaking with exactitude when communicating with the Tr'en. When Korvin claims his purpose on the planet was to crash-land his ship, The Ruler scoffs and orders him connected to a lie-detector machine for the duration of the questioning. After adjusting the lie-detector machine to Korvin's physiology, The Ruler continues his interrogation of Korvin, attempting to determine the true purpose of his mission on Tr'en. Adopting the Tr'en mode of providing extremely logical answers, Korvin claims his mission is to \"stay alive\", which frustrates The Ruler; he claims Korvin is trying to confuse him, so he calls upon his experts to help determine if the machine is faulty and analyze Korvin's responses. As the Tr'en broach the subject of Earth, they start to ask questions about its name, location, and finally, governance. Because the Tr'en receive and obey orders from one Ruler, they are completely perplexed by the concept of democracy where conflicting interests may contribute to a system of self-governance. In fact, they are so stumped by Korvin's responses that they continue this line of questioning for three days and are unsatisfied by what they consider to be his illogical, but truthful answers. On the third day, Korvin takes advantage of their lack of mental insight to escape prison and sends a message back to Earth Central informing them that he has accomplished his mission because the Tr'en will never be able to solve the problem of democracy."}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "5ef717459ff047bea884022f8d72eb2f", "response_text": "Korvin, a human, had been siting isolated in a jail cell for three days on the Tr'en planet when Didyak, a member of the Tr'en, entered his cell. The Tr'en are somewhat humanoid, greenish beings, and Didyak was tall. Korvin had learned some of the Tr'en language under drug hypnosis but was frustrated with how literally Didyak took everything, so it took some time to determine that The Ruler had summoned Korvin for a conversation. This was what he wanted, though: Korvin had been sent to eliminate the threat the the Tr'en posed to the Comity of Planets and the rest of the galaxy because of how quickly their technology was developing. When he got to the Room of the Ruler, Korvin met The Ruler who was over seven feet tall, which was tall even for the Tr'en. The Ruler started with questions about how typical of a human Korvin was, and Korvin found himself apologizing for his race's inclination towards approximation over precision. They don't believe Korvin when he says that his job required he be on this planet, and the Tr'en brought out a lie detector that they built. Korvin was worried about the calibration of the machine, because he knew one misstep would mean death. After the machine was calibrated, the questioning continued, and the Tr'en had to accept that Korvin crashed his ship on purpose. Korvin's truth was not the truth that the Tr'en wanted, which Korvin used against the logic-led race. Experts in logic were called into the room, and Korvin quickly learned that logical paradoxes would not trick the Tr'en. He gave them just enough information for them to logically conclude, incorrectly, that Korvin was there to get help invading Earth. They discussed their respective forms of government, and when The Ruler asked who is in charge on Earth, Korvin refused to give away that information. This causes frustration, and the seed of confusion had been planted. Korvin asked them about their government, which has one being ruling everyone else. Korvin tried to explain that there is no one governor, and that everyone governs, which made no sense to the Tr'en. They did not understand how there was not a single ruler to make decisions; democracy seemed impossible to them. One of the experts insisted that Korvin was lying and that something must be wrong with the machine; they took a three-day break from questioning to investigate the issue only to conclude that nothing was wrong. On this third day, Korvin escaped. He knew the Tr'en couldn't conclude that it was an impossible problem, so their subconsciouses would prepare Korvin for an escape so that their conscious selves wouldn't have to admit that they did not have the answer. The story ends with Korvin heading back to Earth, sending a report back that the Tr'en would have to change their social structure to get the insight to answer the questions he left them with, meaning they were no longer a threat."}, {"worker_id": "12", "uid": "a4f8f51169604ba48ae23fdbbdb7815a", "response_text": "Korvin, a visitor from Earth, is held captive on a planet run by a race called the Tr'en. The Tr'en rely on logic and exact measurements to design their systems of governance, but Korvin's homeworld does not do quite the same. When the ruler of this world begins to question Korvin, they doubt he is telling the truth when he talks about how he crashed his ship on their planet on purpose. They wheel out a lie detector in order to tell if Korvin is telling the truth. The lie detector affirms his answers, but when Korvin starts to speak about his home world's politics, it is too much for the Tr'en to stand and one of his guards sets him free because they cannot cope with what they perceive as logical fallacies in the governance of Korvin's homeworld."}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "c4f14d952f3748998f686c77e3504231", "response_text": "Korvin is a man from Earth who has landed on the planet of the Tr’en. At the beginning of the story, he has been imprisoned in a jail cell and isolated for three days, causing him great boredom. Every night, he is hypnotized so his guards can teach him the Tr’en language. Korvin has learned that the Tr’en are literalists. After three days, a Tr’en named Didyak comes to Korvin’s cell and tells him the Ruler wants to speak with him. Korvin follows the rituals of the Tr’en language and social norms, agreeing to see the Ruler. After all, Korvin’s purpose is to remove the Tr’en threat.\n\tThe Ruler asks Korvin several questions about his race, name, and sex and if his appearance is typical for a human. When Korvin offers a wide range of heights for humans, including “approximately nine or ten inches,” referring to children, the Ruler snaps at him that they ask for precision because the Tr’en are scientific men. \n\tAs the Ruler asks him questions, Korvin answers truthfully but in ways that will not translate literally, thus confusing the Ruler. He has his people bring in a truth detector machine and hook it up to Korvin, testing it with a set of questions to which Korvin answers truthfully and ordering him to answer one untruthfully. These responses lead the Ruler to accept that the machine is calibrated accurately. The Ruler then returns to questioning Korvin, asking if he intentionally crashed his ship on their planet and what else his job entails after landing. Korvin says his job also involves staying alive, and the Ruler retorts that that is not the truth they want. \n\tKorvin has discerned that the Tr’en are brilliant with math and physical science but know nothing about how the mind works. The Ruler calls in his experts for advice who explain to Korvin that they will not be confused by logical paradox. They tell Korvin his plan to confuse them is a failure, and Korvin says that is good. The experts conclude that Korvin must be a traitor to Earth and must want them to conquer it. When the Ruler asks Korvin an either/or question, Korvin answers, “Both,” remaining intentionally ambiguous. When the Ruler asks about the government on Earth, Korvin answers that he cannot give him the explanation, but when he is pressed, Korvin pretends to try to be helpful, all the while, following through with his plan to confuse the Tr’en by describing a democracy with everyone as the governor and no single ruler.\n\tAfter the experts decide their machine must be faulty, they put Korvin back in his cell but continue questioning him. He escapes after someone leaves a door unlocked and a weapon nearby. As he leaves the planet, he sends a message ahead that the Tr’en are worrying over the meaning of democracy and will not be a threat because they will be so focused on the conundrum that they can’t understand. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Who is the Ruler and what is his role in the story?", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "88b4e190c150413cb74b0321488233f5", "response_text": "The Ruler is the sole governor of the Tr'en race. Characterized by their humanoid appearance, Tr'en are tall, greenish, and have four fingers. The Ruler himself is taller than most at seven-feet tall and is quite broad. The Tr'en are very logical and speak in a language almost mathematical in its clarity and precision. The Ruler epitomizes Tr'en commitment to logical inquiry. At first, The Ruler grills Korvin on his name, his race, his sex, and whether or not his appearance is normal for humanity. When Korvin's response regarding the variations in height amongst human adults and children, The Ruler is confounded. He also disbelieves Korvin's response regarding his purpose on Tr'en. Because of this, The Ruler orders Korvin to be hooked up to a lie detector. After adjusting the detector to Korvin's physiology, Korvin launches into a line of questioning regarding planet Earth, specifically the governance of it. When the experts monitoring the lie detector's reactions to Korvin's answers become baffled by his truth-telling in the face of seemingly illogical answers, The Ruler seemingly throws in the towel and lets the experts investigate the idea that Korvin is either lying or the machine is broken. In reality, Korvin has exploited a flaw in their logic--although they are masters of science, they have not mastered mental science. Only a grasp of mental science would allow the Tr'en to fathom humankind's embrace of democracy."}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "5ef717459ff047bea884022f8d72eb2f", "response_text": "The Ruler is the head of the Tr'en government, and is a greenish humanoid who stands over seven feet tall. He makes all of the decisions for the race, and was appointed by the prior Ruler, which he feels is an important aspect of the consistency of the Tr'en leadership. The Ruler is the one who leads the interrogation of Korvin three days after his initial capture, and calls in the logic experts and the lie detector machine when he finds he needs assistance to understand what information Korvin is giving them. He is important to Korvin's plan: his goal after being captured is to talk to The Ruler, to plant some confusion in his head along with the logic experts. Korvin thinks that describing democracy to a society that is so single-authority oriented will force them to restructure their government if they want to try to understand the truths that Korvin presents them about Earth and related governments. "}, {"worker_id": "12", "uid": "a4f8f51169604ba48ae23fdbbdb7815a", "response_text": "The Ruler is the ruler of this planet. Anything the Ruler commands is done, without question. The Tr'en people rely on this type of governance as no other form of governance makes much sense to them. Someone must be in charge of shaping and then enforcing the rules. That is the Ruler's role, and in this story, he is taxed with questioning the prisoner Korvin in order to get to the bottom of his purpose for being on their planet. "}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "c4f14d952f3748998f686c77e3504231", "response_text": "The Ruler is the autocratic leader of the Tr’en. He is a large creature, more than seven feet tall and with a broad build. He has been trained by the previous Ruler, who was trained by the Ruler before him, and so on for past generations, ensuring that the society and its values do not change. The Ruler questions Korvin, trying to determine Korvin’s ulterior motive for crash-landing his ship on the planet. Captives in his presence are closely guarded. The Ruler demands precision and exactitude in answers from Korvin, and when Korvin’s responses are more figurative than literal, he sends for their truth-detector. As Korvin’s answers remain intriguingly vague, which the Ruler cannot understand, he accuses Korvin of not telling the truth that he wants. He calls his experts for their advice, and they also question Korvin. The Ruler and his experts cannot understand Korvin’s explanation of the government on Earth because his statements contradict their assumptions, especially about government. After a frustrating interrogation, the Ruler sends Korvin away but allows his experts to continue to question him in an attempt to understand what he says."}]}, {"question_text": "What is the significance of translation in the story?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "88b4e190c150413cb74b0321488233f5", "response_text": "After Korvin crash-lands on Tr’en, he is captured and imprisoned for several days before he wakes up. During that time, the prison guards teach him the Tr’en language via hypnopædic language instruction. He learns the language is closer to mathematical metalanguage and is centered in logic and clarity. As a result, Korvin has to adjust the way he speaks in order to make sure to convey what he really means in his conversations with Didyak and when he responds to The Ruler's line of questioning. Because the Tr'en language requires perfect logic, Korvin's answers to The Ruler's questions confuse The Ruler and his group of experts that examine the lie detector and confer to determine if Korvin is telling the truth or beating the system somehow. Translation ultimately saves Korvin since the Tr'en are unable to logically process the concept of democracy, and they will spend an endless amount of time trying to solve that problem instead of advancing to the point where they will maraud and settle others in the Comity of Planets."}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "5ef717459ff047bea884022f8d72eb2f", "response_text": "Translation is at the core of the story because Korvin has to rely on the logical nature of the Tr'en language to try to throw the Tr'en people off. Because of the lived experiences of the Tr'en people, with their specific government style, and their literal approach to communication, Korvin is able to give them enough information about why he is there to be telling the truth without giving away his true motives. He hopes that this will spur them to try democracy in an attempt to understand the nature of the government on Earth, which will break their current habits and hopefully slow down their technological progress. It is the way that the groups of people must translate as they communicate that allows Korvin to confuse the masters of logic in the end. "}, {"worker_id": "12", "uid": "a4f8f51169604ba48ae23fdbbdb7815a", "response_text": "The Tr'en language has words that have more exact meanings than words in the English language. As a result, the true intent of the speaker is better conveyed. Korvin learns the Tr'en language while he is their captive, and he picks up on the nuance so well that he can understand the exact meaning and intent of the Tr'en when they speak to them, and thus use this to his advantage. Korvin can mask his own intent since his own language, the language of Earth, is less literal and capable of more complexity."}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "c4f14d952f3748998f686c77e3504231", "response_text": "   The Tr’en society is based on straightforward communication and literal interpretation of every spoken word. This is presumably why they teach Korvin their language, enabling him to communicate with them directly without an interpreter. However, the Tr’ens’ exclusive focus on math and the physical sciences creates a significant weakness that Korvin exploits: they have no understanding of their own or others’ mental capacity and nuances of language and, therefore, no ability to interpret anything they consider illogical. When Didyak uses the word “talk” that means to “gain information from, by peaceful and vocal means,” Korvin realizes that he will be able to save himself and his mission by communicating with the Tr’ens in a way that literally answers their questions without giving away his true mission of stopping the Tr’en’s advancement into the galaxy. \n     When the Ruler tries to find out Korvin’s purpose for intentionally crashing his ship and if he has other intentions, Korvin’s responses are forthright in a literal sense: yes, he crashed his ship on purpose, no his job isn’t ended, now his job is to stay alive.       \n     Completely flummoxed, the Ruler calls in his experts in logic to question Korvin further, and based on his answers, they logically conclude that he is a traitor to Earth and is there to help the Tr’ens overthrow Earth. Korvin also confuses the Tr’ens with his explanation of Earth’s democracy. Their frustration ends the hearing before the Ruler, but the experts continue to question Korvin in his cell. \n     It becomes clear to the experts that their lie-detecting machine is not faulty, but they cannot understand Korvin’s explanations. So on the third day after being called to the Ruler, Korvin finds an unlocked door and a weapon, enabling him to escape and thus solving their insolvable problem. Korvin knows that the Tr’en will be obsessed with trying to understand the democratic ideas that he described and that they will never be able to understand them without changing themselves. They are incapable of translating his responses in the context of their very literal society.\n"}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Didyak and what is his role in the story?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "88b4e190c150413cb74b0321488233f5", "response_text": "Didyak is a Tr'en from the planet Tr'en, and he is tall, slightly green, vaguely humanoid, and has cat-like pupils. Didyak is the first Tr'en that Korvin encounters after waking up in the days following his crash. Having been educated in the Tr'en language through hypnosis, Korvin is able to communicate with Didyak, and he does so, making sure to address with the utmost respect according to Tr'en customs. Didyak carries a small weapon that is translucent and looks like a pistol; he also carries a small knife attached to his belt. Didyak's speech is stiff and slightly awkward, much like the rest of the Tr'en, and he speaks with very careful attention paid to the construction of each sentence in order to express perfect logic. Like the other Tr'en, Didyak also has fifty-eight pointy teeth, at which Korvin tries not to stare. The Ruler has sent Didyak to bring Korvin for an audience with him so that he may learn more about Earth."}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "5ef717459ff047bea884022f8d72eb2f", "response_text": "Didyak is the member of the Tr'en race who came to retrieve Korvin from his cell when The Ruler summoned Korvin for questioning. Didyak is the first Tr'en who Korvin had a conversation with after having learned the Tr'en language under drug hypnosis, which gave him practice in the customs of conversation and the logical, literal nature of the Tr'en discourse. Didyak is also the first experience the reader has with this language, and learns more about the knowledge Korvin comes into his mission with through this exchange."}, {"worker_id": "12", "uid": "a4f8f51169604ba48ae23fdbbdb7815a", "response_text": "Didyak is the Tr'en who arrives at Korvin's cell in order to take him to the Ruler. Didyak is the first being with which Korvin has had any interaction in a long time, so Korvin is happy to talk with Didyak and to work on using the correct Tr'en words to convey his exact meaning. Didyak answers Korvin's questions in a very literal sense, which is customary among the Tr'en people. Didyak explains that he must take Korvin to the Ruler and that the Ruler is going to question him in a way that is meant to gather information."}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "c4f14d952f3748998f686c77e3504231", "response_text": "Didyak is a tall, green Tr’en who, like all Tr’en, looks somewhat humanoid. He comes to Korvin’s cell after Korvin has been held in solitary confinement for three days. His initial conversation with Korvin follows the Tr’en ritual in which Didyak says who Korvin is and Korvin says who Didyak is (“of the Tr’en”). Didyak seems to be a guard because he has access to Korvin and enters his cell; he also carries a small translucent pistol-like weapon along with a knife in a sheath. After introducing each other, Didyak waits for Korvin to speak, and when he does, he asks what Didyak wants with him; Didyak answers that he wants nothing with Korvin. This response reminds Korvin of what he has learned of the Tr’en; they are extremely literal, more inclined to mathematical and scientific thinking. And when Korvin asks what Didyak is doing there, he again answers literally, stating that he is leaning against the door. When Korvin finally asks a specific question that can only be answered literally, Didyak beams at him as if he is pleased that Korvin finally understands what he needs to say. Didyak tells him that he has been ordered to take Korvin to the Ruler, who wants to talk with him. Didyak escorts Korvin to the Ruler, but his interaction with Korvin has proven a stark reminder of how the Tr’ens think and that Korvin needs to be mindful of how he speaks to them. The interaction with Didyak also gives Korvin his plan for how he will thwart the Tr’ens’ anticipated expansion to other planets.\n"}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the setting of the story.", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "8", "uid": "88b4e190c150413cb74b0321488233f5", "response_text": "Korvin works for Earth Central and flies to the planet Tr'en on its behalf. Tr'en is a planet populated by the Tr'en race, a tall humanoid people with greenish skin, fifty-eight pointy teeth, and a unique language centered on the idea of logic. They are an extremely advanced race in terms of science and technology and others in the Comity of Planets consider them a possible threat seeing as they are in the atomic era and are on the brink of developing space travel. After Korvin crash-lands on Tr'en he sits in a prison cell noted for its smelly air, and, more importantly, its efficiency of design. Besides the Tr'en, the only known living creature on Tr'en is the chulad, a small creature that looks like a large deathwatch beetle. The Room of the Ruler is large and square, and everything inside the room is brown including the walls, furniture, and drapes. In terms of furniture, Korvin observes a large chair where The Ruler sits, many kneeling benches, and a small table near the chair. When two technicians bring in a lie detector test for Korvin, he notices that it is large, squat, and metallic and has wheels, dials, blinking lights, tubes, wires, and a seat with armrests and straps. The technicians use these straps to tie Korvin into the machine."}, {"worker_id": "3", "uid": "5ef717459ff047bea884022f8d72eb2f", "response_text": "This story takes place on a planet occupied by the Tr'en, a race of tall greenish humanoid-like aliens. This race is known for their extremely efficient technological development, which is attributed at least in part to their government structure. To humans, the air on the planet is a little bit smelly, and they don't expect the Tr'en to have large cultural institutions and interesting works of art because they are led by logic and mathematics alone--they even communicate very literally, talking their way through logic puzzles. There are two rooms that house most of the story: the lone jail cell that Korvin is kept in for six days in total, and the Room of the Ruler where the questioning happens. The jail cell was built very quickly once Korvin was captured, and there are no other prisoners in the jail, so it is a lonely and quiet place for Korvin to sit in, with nothing to occupy him but his own thoughts. There is one bed for him to lie on but nothing else of interest. His only interaction with others is the nightly lessons in the Tr'en language that are done under drug hypnosis. He is escorted out of this solitary confinement to meet The Ruler, whose chambers are a large room with brown and tan everywhere. The walls were dark brown, many of the furnishings were light brown, and the drapes on the windows were tan. Although the brown contrasted nicely with the green skin of the Tr'en, Korvin still found there to be far too much brown in the room. There was a great big chair in the middle for The Ruler to sit in, surrounded by benches for others to kneel at. Eventually, a lie detector chair is brought into the room as well. The story ends with Korvin making it back to his spaceship, but the author does not give us many details about this part of the setting. "}, {"worker_id": "12", "uid": "a4f8f51169604ba48ae23fdbbdb7815a", "response_text": "The story takes place on a planet that is ruled by a people called the Tr'en. The planet is not as far along in its evolution as Korvin's planet, and Korvin makes a point of this several times in his observations about their lack of experience with other races and in their absence from the Comity of Planets, a governing body that oversees many different planets. The Tr'en are efficient, so all the structures built on the planet are built without flaw. There also isn't anything very exciting to do recreationally on the planet. The planet and its people are largely defined by the very logical and literal nature of the Tr'en."}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "c4f14d952f3748998f686c77e3504231", "response_text": "\n\tThe story takes place on the planet occupied by the Tr’en, an oxygen-breathing humanoid species whose members tend to be quite tall and various shades of green. The Tr’en are known to be an especially efficient lot who are mathematically and scientifically minded, and therefore literally minded as well. Word has reached Earth that the Tr’en are making progress in their atomic era and are almost capable of space travel, which means they will soon settle other planets and travel to nearby stars. It is also suspected they will soon be capable of traveling faster than light, which will earn them an invitation to join the Comity of Planets and which they are sure to reject. The Tr’en have a justice system in place; they have jail cells and the advanced technology that enabled them to build a truth detector device. The planet is ruled by an autocrat referred to as the Ruler; everyone obeys him because they know there are no second chances. This form of government ensures uniformity, enabling rapid, consistent responses from everyone. Everything is constant, as each successive Ruler is adopted by the current Ruler, guaranteeing the same wisdom and judgment exist under each leader.\n"}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "63401", "uid": "aaa46b420fa34763bbc75d3575ef5bed", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "The Happy Castaway\n \n \n BY ROBERT E. McDOWELL\n \n Being space-wrecked and marooned is tough enough. But to face the horrors of such a planet as this was too much. Imagine Fawkes' terrible predicament; plenty of food—and twenty seven beautiful girls for companions.\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1945. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n\n \n Jonathan Fawkes opened his eyes. He was flat on his back, and a girl was bending over him. He detected a frightened expression on the girl's face. His pale blue eyes traveled upward beyond the girl. The sky was his roof, yet he distinctly remembered going to sleep on his bunk aboard the space ship.\n \n \"You're not dead?\"\n \n \"I've some doubt about that,\" he replied dryly. He levered himself to his elbows. The girl, he saw, had bright yellow hair. Her nose was pert, tip-tilted. She had on a ragged blue frock and sandals.\n \n \"Is—is anything broken?\" she asked.\n \n \"Don't know. Help me up.\" Between them he managed to struggle to his feet. He winced. He said, \"My name's Jonathan Fawkes. I'm a space pilot with Universal. What happened? I feel like I'd been poured out of a concrete mixer.\"\n \n She pointed to the wreck of a small space freighter a dozen feet away. Its nose was buried in the turf, folded back like an accordion. It had burst open like a ripe watermelon. He was surprised that he had survived at all. He scratched his head. \"I was running from Mars to Jupiter with a load of seed for the colonists.\"\n \n \"Oh!\" said the girl, biting her lips. \"Your co-pilot must be in the wreckage.\"\n \n He shook his head. \"No,\" he reassured her. \"I left him on Mars. He had an attack of space sickness. I was all by myself; that was the trouble. I'd stay at the controls as long as I could, then lock her on her course and snatch a couple of hours' sleep. I can remember crawling into my bunk. The next thing I knew you were bending over me.\" He paused. \"I guess the automatic deflectors slowed me up or I would have been a cinder by this time,\" he said.\n \n The girl didn't reply. She continued to watch him, a faint enigmatic smile on her lips. Jonathan glanced away in embarrassment. He wished that pretty women didn't upset him so. He said nervously, \"Where am I? I couldn't have slept all the way to Jupiter.\"\n \n The girl shrugged her shoulders.\n \n \"I don't know.\"\n \n \"You don't know!\" He almost forgot his self-consciousness in his surprise. His pale blue eyes returned to the landscape. A mile across the plain began a range of jagged foothills, which tossed upward higher and higher until they merged with the blue saw-edge of a chain of mountains. As he looked a puff of smoke belched from a truncated cone-shaped peak. A volcano. Otherwise there was no sign of life: just he and the strange yellow-headed girl alone in the center of that vast rolling prairie.\n \n \"I was going to explain,\" he heard her say. \"We think that we are on an asteroid.\"\n \n \"We?\" he looked back at her.\n \n \"Yes. There are twenty-seven of us. We were on our way to Jupiter, too, only we were going to be wives for the colonists.\"\n \n \"I remember,\" he exclaimed. \"Didn't the Jupiter Food-growers Association enlist you girls to go to the colonies?\"\n \n She nodded her head. \"Only twenty-seven of us came through the crash.\"\n \n \"Everybody thought your space ship hit a meteor,\" he said.\n \n \"We hit this asteroid.\"\n \n \"But that was three years ago.\"\n \n \"Has it been that long? We lost track of time.\" She didn't take her eyes off him, not for a second. Such attention made him acutely self conscious. She said, \"I'm Ann. Ann Clotilde. I was hunting when I saw your space ship. You had been thrown clear. You were lying all in a heap. I thought you were dead.\" She stooped, picked up a spear.\n \n \"Do you feel strong enough to hike back to our camp? It's only about four miles,\" she said.\n \n \"I think so,\" he said.\n \n \n\n \n Jonathan Fawkes fidgeted uncomfortably. He would rather pilot a space ship through a meteor field than face twenty-seven young women. They were the only thing in the Spaceways of which he was in awe. Then he realized that the girl's dark blue eyes had strayed beyond him. A frown of concentration marred her regular features. He turned around.\n \n On the rim of the prairie he saw a dozen black specks moving toward them.\n \n She said: \"Get down!\" Her voice was agitated. She flung herself on her stomach and began to crawl away from the wreck. Jonathan Fawkes stared after her stupidly. \"Get down!\" she reiterated in a furious voice.\n \n He let himself to his hands and knees. \"Ouch!\" he said. He felt like he was being jabbed with pins. He must be one big bruise. He scuttled after the girl. \"What's wrong?\"\n \n The girl looked back at him over her shoulder. \"Centaurs!\" she said. \"I didn't know they had returned. There is a small ravine just ahead which leads into the hills. I don't think they've seen us. If we can reach the hills we'll be safe.\"\n \n \"Centaurs! Isn't there anything new under the sun?\"\n \n \"Well, personally,\" she replied, \"I never saw a Centaur until I was wrecked on this asteroid.\" She reached the ravine, crawled head foremost over the edge. Jonathan tumbled after her. He hit the bottom, winced, scrambled to his feet. The girl started at a trot for the hills. Jonathan, groaning at each step, hobbled beside her.\n \n \"Why won't the Centaurs follow us into the hills?\" he panted.\n \n \"Too rough. They're like horses,\" she said. \"Nothing but a goat could get around in the hills.\"\n \n The gulley, he saw, was deepening into a respectable canyon, then a gorge. In half a mile, the walls towered above them. A narrow ribbon of sky was visible overhead. Yellow fern-like plants sprouted from the crevices and floor of the canyon.\n \n They flushed a small furry creature from behind a bush. As it sped away, it resembled a cottontail of Earth. The girl whipped back her arm, flung the spear. It transfixed the rodent. She picked it up, tied it to her waist. Jonathan gaped. Such strength and accuracy astounded him. He thought, amazons and centaurs. He thought, but this is the year\n3372; not the time of ancient Greece.\n \n The canyon bore to the left. It grew rougher, the walls more precipitate. Jonathan limped to a halt. High boots and breeches, the uniform of Universal's space pilots, hadn't been designed for walking.\n\"Hold on,\" he said. He felt in his pockets, withdrew an empty cigarette package, crumpled it and hurled it to the ground.\n \n \"You got a cigarette?\" he asked without much hope.\n \n The girl shook her head. \"We ran out of tobacco the first few months we were here.\"\n \n Jonathan turned around, started back for the space ship.\n \n \"Where are you going?\" cried Ann in alarm.\n \n He said, \"I've got a couple of cartons of cigarettes back at the freighter. Centaurs or no centaurs, I'm going to get a smoke.\"\n \n \"No!\" She clutched his arm. He was surprised at the strength of her grip. \"They'd kill you,\" she said.\n \n \"I can sneak back,\" he insisted stubbornly. \"They might loot the ship. I don't want to lose those cigarettes. I was hauling some good burley tobacco seed too. The colonists were going to experiment with it on Ganymede.\"\n \n \"No!\"\n \n He lifted his eyebrows. He thought, she is an amazon! He firmly detached her hand.\n \n The girl flicked up her spear, nicked his neck with the point of it.\n\"We are going to the camp,\" she said.\n \n Jonathan threw himself down backwards, kicked the girl's feet out from under her. Like a cat he scrambled up and wrenched the spear away.\n \n A voice shouted: \"What's going on there?\"\n \n \n\n \n He paused shamefacedly. A second girl, he saw, was running toward them from up the canyon. Her bare legs flashed like ivory. She was barefooted, and she had black hair. A green cloth was wrapped around her sarong fashion. She bounced to a stop in front of Jonathan, her brown eyes wide in surprise. He thought her sarong had been a table cloth at one time in its history.\n \n \"A man!\" she breathed. \"By Jupiter and all its little moons, it's a man!\"\n \n \"Don't let him get away!\" cried Ann.\n \n \"Hilda!\" the brunette shrieked. \"A man! It's a man!\"\n \n A third girl skidded around the bend in the canyon. Jonathan backed off warily.\n \n Ann Clotilde cried in anguish: \"Don't let him get away!\"\n \n Jonathan chose the centaurs. He wheeled around, dashed back the way he had come. Someone tackled him. He rolled on the rocky floor of the canyon. He struggled to his feet. He saw six more girls race around the bend in the canyon. With shouts of joy they flung themselves on him.\n \n Jonathan was game, but the nine husky amazons pinned him down by sheer weight. They bound him hand and foot. Then four of them picked him up bodily, started up the canyon chanting: \" He was a rocket riding daddy from Mars. \" He recognized it as a popular song of three years ago.\n \n Jonathan had never been so humiliated in his life. He was known in the spaceways from Mercury to Jupiter as a man to leave alone. His nose had been broken three times. A thin white scar crawled down the bronze of his left cheek, relic of a barroom brawl on Venus. He was big, rangy, tough. And these girls had trounced him. Girls! He almost wept from mortification.\n \n He said, \"Put me down. I'll walk.\"\n \n \"You won't try to get away?\" said Ann.\n \n \"No,\" he replied with as much dignity as he could summon while being held aloft by four barbarous young women.\n \n \"Let him down,\" said Ann. \"We can catch him, anyway, if he makes a break.\"\n \n Jonathan Fawkes' humiliation was complete. He meekly trudged between two husky females, who ogled him shamelessly. He was amazed at the ease with which they had carried him. He was six feet three and no light weight. He thought enviously of the centaurs, free to gallop across the plains. He wished he was a centaur.\n \n The trail left the canyon, struggled up the precipitate walls. Jonathan picked his way gingerly, hugged the rock. \"Don't be afraid,\" advised one of his captors. \"Just don't look down.\"\n \n \"I'm not afraid,\" said Jonathan hotly. To prove it he trod the narrow ledge with scorn. His foot struck a pebble. Both feet went out from under him. He slithered halfway over the edge. For one sickening moment he thought he was gone, then Ann grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, hauled him back to safety. He lay gasping on his stomach. They tied a rope around his waist then, and led him the rest of the way to the top like a baby on a leash. He was too crestfallen to resent it.\n \n The trail came out on a high ridge. They paused on a bluff overlooking the prairie.\n \n \"Look!\" cried Ann pointing over the edge.\n \n A half dozen beasts were trotting beneath on the plain. At first, Jonathan mistook them for horses. Then he saw that from the withers up they resembled men. Waists, shoulders, arms and heads were identical to his own, but their bodies were the bodies of horses.\n \n \"Centaurs!\" Jonathan Fawkes said, not believing his eyes.\n \n \n\n \n The girls set up a shout and threw stones down at the centaurs, who reared, pawed the air, and galloped to a safe distance, from which they hurled back insults in a strange tongue. Their voices sounded faintly like the neighing of horses.\n \n Amazons and centaurs, he thought again. He couldn't get the problem of the girls' phenomenal strength out of his mind. Then it occurred to him that the asteroid, most likely, was smaller even than Earth's moon. He must weigh about a thirtieth of what he usually did, due to the lessened gravity. It also occurred to him that they would be thirty times as strong. He was staggered. He wished he had a smoke.\n \n At length, the amazons and the centaurs tired of bandying insults back and forth. The centaurs galloped off into the prairie, the girls resumed their march. Jonathan scrambled up hills, skidded down slopes. The brunette was beside him helping him over the rough spots.\n \n \"I'm Olga,\" she confided. \"Has anybody ever told you what a handsome fellow you are?\" She pinched his cheek. Jonathan blushed.\n \n They climbed a ridge, paused at the crest. Below them, he saw a deep valley. A stream tumbled through the center of it. There were trees along its banks, the first he had seen on the asteroid. At the head of the valley, he made out the massive pile of a space liner.\n \n They started down a winding path. The space liner disappeared behind a promontory of the mountain. Jonathan steeled himself for the coming ordeal. He would have sat down and refused to budge except that he knew the girls would hoist him on their shoulders and bear him into the camp like a bag of meal.\n \n The trail debouched into the valley. Just ahead the space liner reappeared. He imagined that it had crashed into the mountain, skidded and rolled down its side until it lodged beside the stream. It reminded him of a wounded dinosaur. Three girls were bathing in the stream. He looked away hastily.\n \n Someone hailed them from the space ship.\n \n \"We've caught a man,\" shrieked one of his captors.\n \n A flock of girls streamed out of the wrecked space ship.\n \n \"A man!\" screamed a husky blonde. She was wearing a grass skirt. She had green eyes. \"We're rescued!\"\n \n \"No. No,\" Ann Clotilde hastened to explain. \"He was wrecked like us.\"\n \n \"Oh,\" came a disappointed chorus.\n \n \"He's a man,\" said the green-eyed blonde. \"That's the next best thing.\"\n \n \"Oh, Olga,\" said a strapping brunette. \"Who'd ever thought a man could look so good?\"\n \n \"I did,\" said Olga. She chucked Jonathan under the chin. He shivered like an unbroken colt when the bit first goes in its mouth. He felt like a mouse hemmed in by a ring of cats.\n \n A big rawboned brute of a girl strolled into the circle. She said,\n\"Dinner's ready.\" Her voice was loud, strident. It reminded him of the voices of girls in the honky tonks on Venus. She looked at him appraisingly as if he were a horse she was about to bid on. \"Bring him into the ship,\" she said. \"The man must be starved.\"\n \n He was propelled jubilantly into the palatial dining salon of the wrecked liner. A long polished meturilium table occupied the center of the floor. Automatic weight distributing chairs stood around it. His feet sank into a green fiberon carpet. He had stepped back into the Thirty-fourth Century from the fabulous barbarian past.\n \n With a sigh of relief, he started to sit down. A lithe red-head sprang forward and held his chair. They all waited politely for him to be seated before they took their places. He felt silly. He felt like a captive princess. All the confidence engendered by the familiar settings of the space ship went out of him like wind. He, Jonathan Fawkes, was a castaway on an asteroid inhabited by twenty-seven wild women.\n \n \n\n \n As the meal boisterously progressed, he regained sufficient courage to glance timidly around. Directly across the table sat a striking, grey-eyed girl whose brown hair was coiled severely about her head. She looked to him like a stenographer. He watched horrified as she seized a whole roast fowl, tore it apart with her fingers, gnawed a leg. She caught him staring at her and rolled her eyes at him. He returned his gaze to his plate.\n \n Olga said: \"Hey, Sultan.\"\n \n He shuddered, but looked up questioningly.\n \n She said, \"How's the fish?\"\n \n \"Good,\" he mumbled between a mouthful. \"Where did you get it?\"\n \n \"Caught it,\" said Olga. \"The stream's full of 'em. I'll take you fishing tomorrow.\" She winked at him so brazenly that he choked on a bone.\n \n \"Heaven forbid,\" he said.\n \n \"How about coming with me to gather fruit?\" cried the green-eyed blonde; \"you great big handsome man.\"\n \n \"Or me?\" cried another. And the table was in an uproar.\n \n The rawboned woman who had summoned them to dinner, pounded the table until the cups and plates danced. Jonathan had gathered that she was called Billy.\n \n \"Quiet!\" She shrieked in her loud strident voice. \"Let him be. He can't go anywhere for a few days. He's just been through a wreck. He needs rest.\" She turned to Jonathan who had shrunk down in his chair. \"How about some roast?\" she said.\n \n \"No.\" He pushed back his plate with a sigh. \"If I only had a smoke.\"\n \n Olga gave her unruly black hair a flirt. \"Isn't that just like a man?\"\n \n \"I wouldn't know,\" said the green-eyed blonde. \"I've forgotten what they're like.\"\n \n Billy said, \"How badly wrecked is your ship?\"\n \n \"It's strewn all over the landscape,\" he replied sleepily.\n \n \"Is there any chance of patching it up?\"\n \n He considered the question. More than anything else, he decided, he wanted to sleep. \"What?\" he said.\n \n \"Is there any possibility of repairing your ship?\" repeated Billy.\n \n \"Not outside the space docks.\"\n \n They expelled their breath, but not for an instant did they relax the barrage of their eyes. He shifted position in embarrassment. The movement pulled his muscles like a rack. Furthermore, an overpowering lassitude was threatening to pop him off to sleep before their eyes.\n \n \"You look exhausted,\" said Ann.\n \n Jonathan dragged himself back from the edge of sleep. \"Just tired,\" he mumbled. \"Haven't had a good night's rest since I left Mars.\" Indeed it was only by the most painful effort that he kept awake at all. His eyelids drooped lower and lower.\n \n \"First it's tobacco,\" said Olga; \"now he wants to sleep. Twenty-seven girls and he wants to sleep.\"\n \n \"He is asleep,\" said the green-eyed blonde.\n \n \n\n \n Jonathan was slumped forward across the table, his head buried in his arms.\n \n \"Catch a hold,\" said Billy, pushing back from the table. A dozen girls volunteered with a rush. \"Hoist!\" said Billy. They lifted him like a sleepy child, bore him tenderly up an incline and into a stateroom, where they deposited him on the bed.\n \n Ann said to Olga; \"Help me with these boots.\" But they resisted every tug. \"It's no use,\" groaned Ann, straightening up and wiping her bright yellow hair back from her eyes. \"His feet have swollen. We'll have to cut them off.\"\n \n At these words, Jonathan raised upright as if someone had pulled a rope.\n \n \" Cut off whose feet? \" he cried in alarm.\n \n \"Not your feet, silly,\" said Ann. \"Your boots.\"\n \n \"Lay a hand on those boots,\" he scowled; \"and I'll make me another pair out of your hides. They set me back a week's salary.\" Having delivered himself of this ultimatum, he went back to sleep.\n \n Olga clapped her hand to her forehead. \"And this,\" she cried \"is what we've been praying for during the last three years.\"\n \n The next day found Jonathan Fawkes hobbling around by the aid of a cane. At the portal of the space ship, he stuck out his head, glanced all around warily. None of the girls were in sight. They had, he presumed, gone about their chores: hunting, fishing, gathering fruits and berries. He emerged all the way and set out for the creek. He walked with an exaggerated limp just in case any of them should be hanging around. As long as he was an invalid he was safe, he hoped.\n \n He sighed. Not every man could be waited on so solicitously by twenty-seven handsome strapping amazons. He wished he could carry it off in cavalier fashion. He hobbled to the creek, sat down beneath the shade of a tree. He just wasn't the type, he supposed. And it might be years before they were rescued.\n \n As a last resort, he supposed, he could hide out in the hills or join the centaurs. He rather fancied himself galloping across the plains on the back of a centaur. He looked up with a start. Ann Clotilde was ambling toward him.\n \n \"How's the invalid?\" she said, seating herself beside him.\n \n \"Hot, isn't it?\" he said. He started to rise. Ann Clotilde placed the flat of her hand on his chest and shoved. \" Ooof! \" he grunted. He sat down rather more forcibly than he had risen.\n \n \"Don't get up because of me,\" she informed him. \"It's my turn to cook, but I saw you out here beneath the trees. Dinner can wait. Jonathan do you know that you are irresistible?\" She seized his shoulders, stared into his eyes. He couldn't have felt any more uncomfortable had a hungry boa constrictor draped itself in his arms. He mopped his brow with his sleeve.\n \n \"Suppose the rest should come,\" he said in an embarrassed voice.\n \n \"They're busy. They won't be here until I call them to lunch. Your eyes,\" she said, \"are like deep mysterious pools.\"\n \n \"Sure enough?\" said Jonathan with involuntary interest. He began to recover his nerve.\n \n She said, \"You're the best looking thing.\" She rumpled his hair. \"I can't keep my eyes off you.\"\n \n Jonathan put his arm around her gingerly. \"Ouch!\" He winced. He had forgotten his sore muscles.\n \n \"I forgot,\" said Ann Clotilde in a contrite voice. She tried to rise.\n\"You're hurt.\"\n \n He pulled her back down. \"Not so you could notice it,\" he grinned.\n \n \"Well!\" came the strident voice of Billy from behind them. \"We're all glad to hear that!\"\n \n \n\n \n Jonathan leaped to his feet, dumping Ann to the ground. He jerked around. All twenty-six of the girls were lined up on the path. Their features were grim. He said: \"I don't feel so well after all.\"\n \n \"It don't wash,\" said Billy. \"It's time for a showdown.\"\n \n Jonathan's hair stood on end. He felt rather than saw Ann Clotilde take her stand beside him. He noticed that she was holding her spear at a menacing angle. She said in an angry voice: \"He's mine. I found him. Leave him alone.\"\n \n \"Where do you get that stuff?\" cried Olga. \"Share and share alike, say I.\"\n \n \"We could draw straws for him,\" suggested the green-eyed blonde.\n \n \"Look here,\" Jonathan broke in. \"I've got some say in the matter.\"\n \n \"You have not,\" snapped Billy. \"You'll do just as we say.\" She took a step toward him.\n \n Jonathan edged away in consternation.\n \n \"He's going to run!\" Olga shouted.\n \n Jonathan never stopped until he was back in the canyon leading to the plain. His nerves were jumping like fleas. He craved the soothing relaxation of a smoke. There was, he remembered, a carton of cigarettes at the wreck. He resumed his flight, but at a more sober pace.\n \n At the spot where he and Ann had first crawled away from the centaurs, he scrambled out of the gulley, glanced in the direction of his space ship. He blinked his eyes, stared. Then he waved his arms, shouted and tore across the prairie. A trim space cruiser was resting beside the wreck of his own. Across its gleaming monaloid hull ran an inscription in silver letters: \"INTERSTELLAR COSMOGRAPHY SOCIETY.\"\n \n Two men crawled out of Jonathan's wrecked freighter, glanced in surprise at Jonathan. A third man ran from the cruiser, a Dixon Ray Rifle in his hand.\n \n \"I'm Jonathan Fawkes,\" said the castaway as he panted up, \"pilot for Universal. I was wrecked.\"\n \n A tall elderly man held out his hand. He had a small black waxed mustache and Van Dyke. He was smoking a venusian cigarette in a yellow composition holder. He said, \"I'm Doctor Boynton.\" He had a rich cultivated voice, and a nose like a hawk. \"We are members of the Interstellar Cosmography Society. We've been commissioned to make a cursory examination of this asteroid. You had a nasty crack up, Mr. Fawkes. But you are in luck, sir. We were on the point of returning when we sighted the wreck.\"\n \n \"I say,\" said the man who had run out of the cruiser. He was a prim, energetic young man. Jonathan noted that he carried the ray gun gingerly, respectfully. \"We're a week overdue now,\" he said. \"If you have any personal belongings that you'd like to take with you, you'd best be getting them aboard.\"\n \n \n\n \n Jonathan's face broke into a grin. He said, \"Do any of you know how to grow tobacco?\"\n \n They glanced at each other in perplexity.\n \n \"I like it here,\" continued Jonathan. \"I'm not going back.\"\n \n \"What?\" cried the three explorers in one breath.\n \n \"I'm going to stay,\" he repeated. \"I only came back here after the cigarettes.\"\n \n \"But it will be three years before the asteroid's orbit brings it back in the space lanes,\" said Doctor Boynton. \"You don't possibly expect to be picked up before then!\"\n \n Jonathan shook his head, began to load himself with tools, tobacco seed, and cigarettes.\n \n \"Odd.\" Doctor Boynton shook his head, turned to the others. \"Though if I remember correctly, there was quite an epidemic of hermits during the medieval period. It was an esthetic movement. They fled to the wilderness to escape the temptation of women .\"\n \n Jonathan laughed outright.\n \n \"You are sure you won't return, young man?\"\n \n He shook his head. They argued, they cajoled, but Jonathan was adamant. He said, \"You might report my accident to Universal. Tell them to stop one of their Jupiter-bound freighters here when the asteroid swings back in the space ways. I'll have a load for them.\"\n \n Inside the ship, Doctor Boynton moved over to a round transparent port hole. \"What a strange fellow,\" he murmured. He was just in time to see the castaway, loaded like a pack mule, disappear in the direction from which he had come.\n \n Robinson Crusoe was going back to his man (?) Friday—all twenty-seven of them.", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "b314441a9fe34e50bce117ac766f30ca", "response_text": "Jonathan Fawkes dropped off the only member of his crew on Mars after he got space sickness, so he was alone on the journey to Jupiter. He had been charged with dropping off tobacco seed to see if they could cultivate it on the colonies in Jupiter. However, along the way, he got tired at the wheel of the ship, and, during his nap, crashed into an asteroid. When he awoke, a beautiful blonde woman named Ann was standing over him. They introduce themselves, and she explains that she’s one of the 27 female survivors of their crash over three years ago. Ann sees a horde of centaurs coming over the plains, so she and Jonathan crawl to the foothills, where they can’t be followed. She spears a creature along the way and hooks it on her belt. Jonathan attempts to escape, as he’s uncomfortable around women and wants a cigarette, but she takes him down. They run into nine more women who pin him to the ground. They start to carry him the four miles back to their base, but he asks to walk instead as he’s humiliated. They trudge through the foothills, only stopping once to throw stones at the pestering centaurs, before finally reaching home. They treat Jonathan like a king, pulling out a chair for him at the table, and endlessly complimenting him. They eat inside the dining room of their wrecked ship, and Jonathan watches the wild, Amazonian-like women in horror. Their leader, a big woman named Billy, halts all the flirting and tells Jonathan that he needs to rest in order to feel better. After his belly’s full, he quickly falls asleep, and they carry him upstairs to bed, attempting to take off his shoes which he refuses. \nThe next morning, he wakes up and walks outside with a cane, exaggerating his injuries so as to be treated better. He sits beneath a tree and is soon greeted by Ann. She grabs him and they make to embrace but are caught by the rest of the girls. Billy splits them up and says it’s time to figure out who gets him. The women fight and argue their cases, and Jonathan slips away, running back to his ship. Another cruiser is sat down next to his own, the Interstellar Cosmography Society scrawled on its side. He meets Dr. Boynton and another man who offer to rescue him. Jonathan refuses them, tells them there’s nothing to worry about, then grabs his tobacco seeds, cigarettes, and tools, and makes his way back to the women. \n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "02f80b7a2e844eb98affffe241ba1c14", "response_text": "Jonathan Fawkes, a Universal space pilot, flying from Mars to Jupiter, has seeds for the colonists there. He is flying alone, using autopilot at times to sleep. Something goes wrong, and his ship crashes onto an asteroid. He is discovered by a beautiful young woman checking to see if he is alive. She reveals that she, along with 26 other women, crashed their ship onto the asteroid three years ago when they were on their way to become wives for the colonists on Jupiter. This woman, Ann Clotilde, invites Jonathan back to their camp. Along the way, she spies a herd of centaurs and hides Jonathan from them. Ann is surprisingly strong and can kill a rabbit-like creature with her spear, reminding Jonathan of an amazon. \n\tWhen Jonathan craves a cigarette and realizes they are in his ship, he turns to go back for them, but Ann stops him with the tip of her spear. Other women appear to find out what is going on, and they are all astonished to discover a man among them. They shout with joy and throw themselves at him. To prevent him from trying to get away again, they tie his hands and feet and carry him, which utterly humiliates Jonathan. He had always considered himself a tough guy, but he had been bested by a group of women! He persuades them to let him walk the rest of the way, but later, when his feet slip on the narrow ridge of a trail, they have to rescue him and then tie a rope around his waist like a child to keep him safe.\n\tAs they reach their camp, the women announce they’ve caught a man, and one of the women exclaims they are rescued. But another points out that having a man there is the next best thing, and the women talk openly about his attractiveness. At dinner, several women invite Jonathan to join them for private activities the next day. He eventually falls asleep at the dinner table and is carried away to bed.\n\tThe next day, Ann, his finder, discovers him alone and engages with him. He is worried that others might see them, but she assures him they are alone. But something he says draws all of the women into the opening where they are, and they begin arguing over whose man he is, Ann’s, all of theirs to share….Jonathan exclaims he should have a say in it, but Billy, the leader, tells him he doesn’t. He then decides it’s a good time to get those cigarettes, and when he arrives, two men are there from the Instellar Cosmography Society and offer him a ride back to civilization. Jonathan tells them he has decided he likes it there and wants to stay, even though it will be another three years before the asteroid’s orbit is in the space lanes again where he can be picked up.\n"}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5204eddd8ba449b1bdf2851c59c477e0", "response_text": "Jonathan Fawkes is a space pilot with a company called Universal. After dropping his co-pilot off on Mars due to illness, Jonathan has been flying solo, carrying a load of seed to be delivered to colonists on Jupiter. Somehow, he crash-lands on an asteroid, and when he wakes up, he sees a woman with bright yellow hair standing over him. Her name is Ann Clotilde, and she is one of the women that had been sent to Jupiter three years earlier by the Food-growers Association to become wives for the colonists. Ann informs Jonathan their ship had crash-landed and only twenty-seven women survived. She offers to bring Jonathan back to her camp, and Jonathan agrees despite his discomfort around women. They begin to move across the prairie. Along the way, a group of centaurs chases them, and they run toward the safety of a small ravine leading into the hills. After Ann uses her spear to snag a rabbit, Jonathan realizes the women must have developed Amazon-like skills during their time on the asteroid. He begins to crave a cigarette and decides to return to his ship to fetch the cartons of cigarettes he had left behind. Ann insists he leaves the cigarettes behind and accompanies her to the camp, whereupon he trips her and takes her spear. The commotion draws the attention of some of Ann's fellow survivors who come to her aid and apprehend Jonathan. Feeling shame, Jonathan joins the cohort on their march back to the camp as the women and the centaurs throw rocks and insults at each other. The women, particularly Olga and Ann, begin flirting with Jonathan since they haven't seen a man in many years. When they return to camp, all of the women are delighted to see a man, and he joins them for a great feast prepared by their cook, Billy. The women argue about who will get to spend alone time with Jonathan, but he is too tired to play along. Eventually, he falls asleep, and the women carry him to bed. When he awakens, he explores the encampment and runs into Ann. Emboldened by Ann's forwardness, Jonathan wraps his arm around her, and the other women suddenly appear, prepared to fight for Jonathan. As they argue amongst themselves, Jonathan makes a run for his ship, leaving the women behind. When he arrives, he sees a space cruiser next to his wrecked ship with the inscription \"Interstellar Cosmography Society.\" Three men step out, and the eldest explains to Jonathan that they have been commissioned to examine the asteroid. They offer Jonathan a ride off the asteroid, but Jonathan turns down their off. He has decided to stay with the women after all. He grabs his cigarettes and makes his way back to camp."}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "67dfc2e71eaf49529485334c18ef17b5", "response_text": "In 3372, Jonathan Fawkes, a space pilot with Universal, crash lands during a transport run from Mars to Jupiter to deliver seed for the colonists. He awakes to find a woman (Ann Clotilde) wearing a ragged blue frock and sandals that is surprised he isn’t dead. She doesn’t know where they are, but suspects they are on an asteroid. She and 26 other women survived a crash landing here three years ago while on their way to become wives to Jupiter’s colonists. A herd of Centaurs charge towards them and they flee down a ravine that opens into a large gorge. Ann spears a small furry creature and ties it to her belt. Jonathan craves cigarettes and wants to go back to his wrecked ship to retrieve some, but Ann insists they go to camp. Jonathan knocks her feet out and takes her spear, turning it on her. Just then, another woman approaches, shrieking at the presence of a man. Jonathan flees, and nine women chase him down, bind his arms and legs, and begin carrying him to their camp. Jonathan begs to walk and they let him down, knowing they can catch him again if he tries to run. He slips and nearly plummets down a canyon wall, but Ann grabs him and saves him, humiliating Jonathan to be helped by a woman. They stop briefly to throw rocks and yell at some Centaurs on the prairie below. At their camp, they feed Jonathan in the dining salon of their wrecked ship. Some women invite Jonathan to hunt and forage, fawning over him. One of them, Olga, makes strong sexual advances. Billy, the leader of the women, silences the chatter and declares that Jonathan must rest. He says his ship can’t be salvaged, and is so tired he falls asleep at the table. A dozen women carry him up to a stateroom for his rest.\nJonathan wakes with a limp and goes to the nearby stream. Ann makes a strong sexual advance on him, forcing him back into a seat when he tries to get up and assuring him that the other women won’t return until lunch. Billy interrupts them, and the rest of the women are lined up behind her. Ann bears her spear and claims that Jonathan is hers because she found him. Jonathan runs back to his shipwreck and finds a group of three men from the Interstellar Cosmography Society examining the asteroid. Doctor Boynton says Jonathan is lucky they saw his wreck, but Jonathan insists he does not want to be rescued. They think he has gone mad. Jonathan tells them to send a freighter back to the asteroid in three years when it crosses into the shipping lane again to pick up his load of tobacco. He grabs tools, tobacco seeds and cigarettes, and heads back to the women’s camp."}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the setting of the story.", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "b314441a9fe34e50bce117ac766f30ca", "response_text": "The Happy Castaway by Robert E. McDowell takes place during the year 3372 on an asteroid between Mars and Jupiter. The asteroid is mostly prairie and sprawling plains, but there are also foothills and steep mountains. In the mountains, there is also a mountain emitting white smoke. The centaurs, the Natives on the asteroid, live in the prairie and plains, as they are unable to successfully travel through the hills and mountains. The stranded women live beyond the mountains, where the centaurs can’t reach them, and have transformed the wreckage of their ship into a livable base. There is a grand table and weighted chairs to serve food at, a kitchen supposedly where they can cook the food they’ve hunted and foraged, as well as areas to sleep. \nThere are rivers that run through the asteroid teeming with fish. Ann caught a rabbit-like creature, so there are other creatures to be hunted. \n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "02f80b7a2e844eb98affffe241ba1c14", "response_text": "The story takes place in 3372 on an asteroid where a flight of girls was stranded three years earlier after their ship went down. The ship's remains are still there, and the girls use it for living quarters. The asteroid is rich with flora and fauna and a variety of landforms. It has grassy meadows, foothills, chains of mountains, a volcano, and a brook. There are ravines and hills, canyons, and valleys. There are small furry animals, much like rabbits, that the girls catch to eat and large centaurs that the girls have developed a healthy fear of. Jonathan refers to the women on the planet as amazons because they are so strong, but then he also learns that the pull of gravity is 30 times less than that of Earth, so the women can lift and carry his easily. The women are eager to be rescued but equally eager for a man’s attention. They flirt with Jonathan shamelessly, each trying to gain his attention. They have established a bit of social order; it appears that Billy is their leader. She reigns in the girls when they become too competitive over Jonathan. The women wait on Jonathan hand and foot, each eager for time alone with him. "}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5204eddd8ba449b1bdf2851c59c477e0", "response_text": "The story takes place in the year 3372 on an asteroid somewhere between Mars and Jupiter. Jonathan works as a pilot for a company called Universal delivering seeds to planets like Jupiter, which has a colony and a Food-growers Association. Jonathan crash-lands in a vast prairie, which stretches a mile past the crash site to a range of jagged foothills leading up to a chain of mountains. Within this chain, Jonathan sees a puff of smoke issuing from the top of a cone-shaped peak indicating the presence of a volcano. The asteroid is home to centaurs, which appear to be hostile towards humans. When Ann and Jonathan run away from the centaurs, they escape to a small ravine leading into the hills. As they make their way through the ravine, it deepens into a canyon then further into a gorge with walls towering on either side of them. On the floor of the canyon grow yellow, fern-like plants. After the women capture Jonathan, they march him back to camp by way of a narrow ledge climbing the canyon wall which comes to rest at a high ridge overlooking the prairie. Because the asteroid has less gravity than Earth, the women are thirty times as stronger than normal. Their encampment is at the head of a deep valley beyond the canyon's ridge where a tree-flanked stream flows next to their crashed space liner. Inside the space liner is a massive dining area with a long meturilium table at its center sitting atop a green fiberon carpet. It reminds Jonathan of the \"fabulous barbarian past.\""}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "67dfc2e71eaf49529485334c18ef17b5", "response_text": "In the year 3372, humans have colonized other planets in the solar system, and there is interplanetary transport to support the colonists. Asteroids can be dangerous in the shipping lanes, as the main character, Jonathan Fawkes, finds out when he crashes into one on his way to deliver seeds and other supplies to Jupiter.\nThe asteroid contains prairies, jagged foothills, a chain of mountains, a fuming volcano and deep valley gorges and streams. Dangerous Centaurs that are half man and half horse roam the prairie in herds. There is a ravine nearby to Jonathan’s crash site that opens into a wide gorge with high walls that tower on both sides. Yellow fern-like plants grow within the canyon. The 27 stranded women camp about four miles away from where Jonathan crash lands. They camp in their wrecked ship which has a stream close by to it. There is small game to eat like the furry creature that Ann spears and ties off to her belt. They still use the dining hall on the ship for their meals, and go out daily to hunt, fish, and forage for fruits and berries. \nThe asteroid will cross the interplanetary shipping lane every three years in its orbit, meaning that every three years there is a chance they may come into contact with transport ships again. This creates a sense of pioneering prosperity for Johnathan who decides he wants to live with the 27 women on the asteroid and use the fertile land to grow tobacco and then sell it every three years when a freight ship comes by.\n"}]}, {"question_text": "Who is Ann Clotilde, and what happens to her throughout the story?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "b314441a9fe34e50bce117ac766f30ca", "response_text": "Ann Clotilde is one of the 27 women who crashed into the asteroid on their way to Jupiter and survived. She has blonde hair and a cute, button nose. She wears sandals and a frayed blue frock. She finds Jonathan Fawkes after he crashes during one of her hunting expeditions. She walked to him to see if he was dead or not but soon rescues him from the oncoming horde of centaurs. She quickly spears a rabbit-like creature and attaches it to her belt. She takes him down when he attempts to escape, proving her Amazonian strength. The other girls come when they see her and fawn over Jonathan as well. Together, they half-carry, half-drag him back to their ship, where they feed him. The next day, Ann meets him beneath a tree and essentially throws herself at him. He receives her gladly, but they soon stop when they are caught by the others. Jonathan runs off, leaving Ann behind. "}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "02f80b7a2e844eb98affffe241ba1c14", "response_text": "Ann Clotilde is the woman who discovered Jonathan and his wrecked ship. At first, she worries that Jonathan is dead, but then he regains consciousness. She helps him up and then explains where he is to the best of her ability. The 27 women believe they are on an asteroid. They crash-landed there three years ago and have been waiting for a man to come to rescue them ever since. Ann saves Jonathan from the centaurs, telling him what they are and leading him away from them to save his life. She has excellent hunting skills, easily spearing a small rodent they pass on the trail. When Jonathan wants to go back to his ship for his cartons of cigarettes, she calls on some other girls to help her stop him, all of whom are thrilled to see a man. To prevent him from escaping, they bind his hands and feet and half-carry him to their camp. Ann believes that Jonathan should belong to her since she found him first. When she finds him alone and comes onto him, she assures Jonathan that they are completely alone. But after he groans from pain but claims he isn’t hurt too badly, Billy and all the other women come out of the woods, pleased that he is okay. Ann claims that Jonathan belongs to her while other women complain and argue they should all share him. When Jonathan states he should have a say in it, Billy tells him he doesn’t and has to do what they say. Jonathan turns and runs for his ship to retrieve his cigarettes."}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5204eddd8ba449b1bdf2851c59c477e0", "response_text": "Ann Clotilde is one of the twenty-seven survivors of a crashed space liner that had been enlisted by the Jupiter Food-growers Association to transport wives for the colonists on Jupiter. Ann and her fellow survivors have lived on the asteroid for three years, waiting for someone to come rescue them, but they have also adjusted quite well and spend their days hunting, gathering berries and fruit, and attending to various chores around the encampment. Thanks to the low gravity on the asteroid, the women have magnified their strength, enabling them to hold their own against the centaurs and capture Jonathan without any problems. Ann is out hunting when she stumbles upon Jonathan, and she believes he is dead. She has bright, yellow hair and wears a ragged blue frock and sandals. She is curious about Jonathan and invites him back to her encampment. Along the way, she helps him escape from a herd of hostile centaurs, but she threatens him with a spear when he wants to return to the ship to get his cigarettes. Later, Ann joins the rest of the women in flirting with Jonathan because it has been several years since any of them has seen a man, and they all find Jonathan to be attractive. In fact, Ann flirts the most forwardly, and Jonathan seems intrigued by her offer until they are stopped by the rest of the women who wish to fight for him."}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "67dfc2e71eaf49529485334c18ef17b5", "response_text": "Ann Clotilde is one of twenty-seven women who survived a shipwreck on an asteroid while on their way to Jupiter to become the wives of the colonists there. She has bright yellow hair, an attractive nose, and wears a blue frock and sandals. She discovers Jonathan and his wrecked ship while she is out hunting, and is surprised that he is alive. She forces him to come back to their camp with him, but he takes her spear and tries to escape. Ann cries for the women who find them to help her stop him, and they successfully capture him and tie him up. On their way back to camp, Ann has to rescue Jonathan from falling off the edge of a cliff by grabbing the scruff of his neck. Ann partakes in throwing rocks and yelling at Centaurs on the prairie below along their way. After Ann and the other women invite Jonathan to eat with them in the dining hall of their wrecked ship, they carry him to a stateroom to rest. The next morning, after Johnathan has been fed a slept in the women’s camp, Ann comes upon Jonathan in the stream and makes a forceful sexual advance on him. They are found by all the other women, and Ann tries to fend them off by wielding her spear and telling them that she found him and she gets to have him.\n"}]}, {"question_text": "What happened to the 27 women stuck on the asteroid?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "b314441a9fe34e50bce117ac766f30ca", "response_text": "The Jupiter Food-growers Association enlisted many women to travel out to the colonies to serve as wives and promote happiness as well as breed a new generation. However, on their way to Jupiter, their spaceship crashed into an asteroid, and only 27 of the women survived. In the three years since the crash, these women have learned to hunt, forage, and defend themselves against the native species there, Centaurs. They developed a society based on sharing and generosity, shown through their individual chores that all serve the greater good. However, the two things they wished for were a rescue mission or a man. When Jonathan Fawkes arrived, their second wish came true. After they all met him, they each complimented him incessantly and offered him more food, drinks, and other sweet amenities. Being the first man they’d seen in over three years, he was quite the rarity. "}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "02f80b7a2e844eb98affffe241ba1c14", "response_text": "The 27 women stuck on the asteroid have been stranded there for three years. They were on a ship bound for the Food-growers Association on Jupiter to become wives for the colonists but crash-landed on the asteroid. Some of the women did not survive, but those who did have learned to fend for themselves. Their only hope of leaving the asteroid is if a man comes and takes them away. When Ann discovers Jonathan, all the women are interested in him and want to “win” him for themselves. They flirt shamelessly and help him, treating him almost like a princess. The women have learned to fend for themselves, hunt their food, and become quite strong. Jonathan thinks of them as amazons. Of course, the gravity on the asteroid is about thirty times weaker than that of Earth, which helps the women carry Jonathan when they tie him up to prevent him from getting away. They are so excited and desperate to see a man, they will do anything to prevent him from leaving. Their main wish is to be rescued, but the next best thing to being rescued is to have a man among them."}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5204eddd8ba449b1bdf2851c59c477e0", "response_text": "Originally, the women were part of a larger group that had been enlisted by the Jupiter Food-growers Association to journey to the colonies on Jupiter to become wives for the colonists. Before they reached their destination, they crash-landed on the same asteroid that Jonathan would crash on three years later. During those three years, the twenty-seven survivors turned their crash site into a livable encampment. Lucky for them, they had crashed in a deep valley near a stream and plenty of trees. Because of the lush foliage, they are able to collect an ample supply of fruits and berries, and there is plenty of wildlife to hunt including rabbits. As a result of the low gravity, the women's strength has magnified thirty times, so they are able to easily defend against the centaurs and provide for themselves. Although they are hoping to be rescued, they seem generally content in the makeshift society they have built together. The only thing they mention missing is the presence of a man, so when Jonathan arrives, they all fight over his personal attention."}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "67dfc2e71eaf49529485334c18ef17b5", "response_text": "Twenty-seven women survived a shipwreck on an asteroid while on their way to Jupiter to become the wives of the colonists there. They have been successfully living on the asteroid for three years, and hunt and gather the plentiful resources the land has to sustain themselves. They have to fight or evade dangerous Centaurs that are half man and half horse while they are out hunting, which they do by throwing rocks and yelling at them. They camp next to a stream in their wrecked ship, using the dining hall and staterooms for eating and living quarters. Jonathan finds them to be powerful and athletic, and frequently refers to them as Amazons. Many of them make forceful sexual advances on Jonathan, and they compete amongst themselves for his attention.\nWhen the asteroid orbits through the interplanetary shipping lane every three years, they become more likely to be rescued. When Jonathan intercepts Doctor Boynton and his two colleagues from the Interstellar Cosmography Society who have been commissioned to examine the asteroid, he tells them emphatically that he does not wish to be rescued. He would only like for them to send a freighter back in another three years to pick up the load of tobacco that he plans to grow with the seeds in the cargo of his shipwreck. The implication of what Jonathan has decided is that the twenty seven women will also likely remain on the asteroid for at least three more years because Jonathan has turned away their chance at being rescued.\n"}]}, {"question_text": "What transformation does Jonathan Fawkes undergo throughout the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "6", "uid": "b314441a9fe34e50bce117ac766f30ca", "response_text": "At first, Jonathan Fawkes claims that he is most uncomfortable around women. Despite being a galavanting spaceman known around the universe for his strength and bravery, he is in awe and possibly fearful only of women. When he first arrives on the asteroid and encounters Ann, he is immensely uncomfortable with her gaze on him, and that continues as he discovers that she can overpower him in his weakened state quite easily. As the rest of the stranded women arrive, they all ogle at him and tell him how incredibly handsome he is. This only makes him even more uncomfortable. \nHowever, by the end of the story, he wraps his arms around Ann and would have embraced her had they not been caught by the others. The rest of the women vie for his attention, and he runs off back to his spaceship. At first, the reader might think it’s because he needs to get away from the girls or that he can’t handle the pressure. However, his encounter with the potential rescuers proves that he is now far more comfortable around the women. He ran back to his spaceship to grab his cigarettes and tobacco seeds. He always planned to return to the women and does not tell the rescuers about them. \nAlthough at first, he was terrified of the girls, by the end he too is infatuated and loves the situation at hand. \n"}, {"worker_id": "2", "uid": "02f80b7a2e844eb98affffe241ba1c14", "response_text": "Jonathan undergoes a complete role reversal with the women on the asteroid. At first, Jonathan is rather uncomfortable at all the attention the 27 women pay him. He isn’t accustomed to women openly flirting with him, being possessive of him, or being the center of their attention. He also isn’t accustomed to women having control over him. When he wants to go back to his ship for his cartons of cigarettes and Ann tries to stop him, he tries to thwart her physically. But when other women join them and Ann explains what is happening, the women gang up together, tackle him, tie him up, and carry him to prevent him from going. As a big, rangy, tough man, he feels completely humiliated for the women to have the upper hand over him. The humiliation continues when he starts to slide over the edge of the narrow ledge, and the women save him and tie a rope around his waist like he’s a baby on a leash. The women talk openly to him about his physical attractiveness and invite him to join them in private activities. The whole scene is much like what single women experience when they are in a group of men, and Jonathan doesn’t know what to make of it. As the object of their attention, he finds he has no say in what they plan to do with him when Ann claims he belongs to her since she found him and others say they should all share him. However, when the men from the Interstellar Cosmography Society find Jonathan’s ship and meet him, offering to take him with them, he tells them he has decided he likes it on the asteroid and will be staying there to raise tobacco. He doesn’t mention the 27 women because he has decided that he likes the center of their attention.\n"}, {"worker_id": "8", "uid": "5204eddd8ba449b1bdf2851c59c477e0", "response_text": "When Jonathan first meets Ann Clotilde, he feels a little embarrassed and uncomfortable because being around beautiful women makes him feel awkward and nervous. He follows Ann back to the encampment because he is injured and unfamiliar with the environment of the asteroid. Jonathan is a tall and large man, but the women easily apprehend him, which makes him sulk. His sulking leads to him nearly falling off the cliff, and the women have to save him. He feels even more uncomfortable when he arrives at the encampment and meets the rest of the twenty-seven survivors of the crash. They are all beautiful women--he calls them Amazons--and they flirt with him incessantly calling him handsome and attractive. Unsure of their true intentions with him, Jonathan walks around the encampment with an exaggerated limp, hoping to garner their sympathy. As he does this, Ann corners him, and suddenly he feels a desire to flirt with her back until all of the women arrive and want to fight for his attention. Jonathan escapes back to his ship to get his cigarettes and finds a cosmography society there to survey the asteroid. They offer him a ride home, but he decides he wants to stay. Before, Jonathan wanted to escape from the women, but now he realizes he is happy there and wants to return."}, {"worker_id": "10", "uid": "67dfc2e71eaf49529485334c18ef17b5", "response_text": "Jonathan Fawkes is a space pilot with Universal, known in the interplanetary transport business as a man to leave alone. He thinks of himself as big and tough, and over the years he has picked up three broken noses and had a scar on his left cheek from a bar brawl. When the women capture him and tie him up to take him to their camp he says he has never been so humiliated in his life. He feels intimidated and scared by the sexual advances of the women, especially one named Olga, and wishes he could run away or retreat on several occasions.\nA transformation occurs when he is approached by Ann in the stream the morning after he sleeps at the women’s camp. He switches from trying to escape to succumbing to her sexual advance. When the other women discover them together and Ann uses her spear to try to defend her claim over him, he runs back to his ship. However, he is only running back to his ship to gather supplies like tools, tobacco seeds from the cargo he was supposed to be delivering when he shipwrecked, and cigarettes. Even with the offer to go home from Doctor Boynton and his two colleagues from the Interstellar Cosmography Society who land on the asteroid and find his wreck, he decides that he will stay here with the women. They think he has lost his mind, but Jonathan sees an opportunity for himself now to live on the asteroid with the women and farm tobacco that he can sell to passing freighters in another three years when the orbit will cross the interplanetary shipping lane again.\n"}]}]}
+{"metadata": {"passage_id": "52855", "uid": "a1f43a9489d9444f8b3f27efd935d5b3", "license": "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’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Please refer to https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html for the detailed license."}, "document": "THE STAR-SENT KNAVES\n \n\n \n BY KEITH LAUMER\n \n Illustrated by Gaughan\n \n [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n \n \n\n When the Great Galactic Union first encounters Earth ... is this what is going to happen?\n \n \n\n I\n \n Clyde W. Snithian was a bald eagle of a man, dark-eyed, pot-bellied, with the large, expressive hands of a rug merchant. Round-shouldered in a loose cloak, he blinked small reddish eyes at Dan Slane's travel-stained six foot one.\n \n \"Kelly here tells me you've been demanding to see me.\" He nodded toward the florid man at his side. He had a high, thin voice, like something that needed oiling. \"Something about important information regarding safeguarding my paintings.\"\n \n \"That's right, Mr. Snithian,\" Dan said. \"I believe I can be of great help to you.\"\n \n \"Help how? If you've got ideas of bilking me....\" The red eyes bored into Dan like hot pokers.\n \n \"Nothing like that, sir. Now, I know you have quite a system of guards here—the papers are full of it—\"\n \n \"Damned busybodies! Sensation-mongers! If it wasn't for the press, I'd have no concern for my paintings today!\"\n \n \"Yes sir. But my point is, the one really important spot has been left unguarded.\"\n \n \"Now, wait a minute—\" Kelly started.\n \n \"What's that?\" Snithian cut in.\n \n \"You have a hundred and fifty men guarding the house and grounds day and night—\"\n \n \"Two hundred and twenty-five,\" Kelly snapped.\n \n \"—but no one at all in the vault with the paintings,\" Slane finished.\n \n \"Of course not,\" Snithian shrilled. \"Why should I post a man in the vault? It's under constant surveillance from the corridor outside.\"\n \n \"The Harriman paintings were removed from a locked vault,\" Dan said.\n\"There was a special seal on the door. It wasn't broken.\"\n \n \"By the saints, he's right,\" Kelly exclaimed. \"Maybe we ought to have a man in that vault.\"\n \n \"Another idiotic scheme to waste my money,\" Snithian snapped. \"I've made you responsible for security here, Kelly! Let's have no more nonsense. And throw this nincompoop out!\" Snithian turned and stalked away, his cloak flapping at his knees.\n \n \"I'll work cheap,\" Dan called after him as Kelly took his arm. \"I'm an art lover.\"\n \n \"Never mind that,\" Kelly said, escorting Dan along the corridor. He turned in at an office and closed the door.\n \n \"Now, as the old buzzard said, I'm responsible for security here. If those pictures go, my job goes with them. Your vault idea's not bad. Just how cheap would you work?\"\n \n \"A hundred dollars a week,\" Dan said promptly. \"Plus expenses,\" he added.\n \n Kelly nodded. \"I'll fingerprint you and run a fast agency check. If you're clean, I'll put you on, starting tonight. But keep it quiet.\"\n \n \n\n \n Dan looked around at the gray walls, with shelves stacked to the low ceiling with wrapped paintings. Two three-hundred-watt bulbs shed a white glare over the tile floor, a neat white refrigerator, a bunk, an arm-chair, a bookshelf and a small table set with paper plates, plastic utensils and a portable radio—all hastily installed at Kelly's order. Dan opened the refrigerator, looked over the stock of salami, liverwurst, cheese and beer. He opened a loaf of bread, built up a well-filled sandwich, keyed open a can of beer.\n \n It wasn't fancy, but it would do. Phase one of the plan had gone off without a hitch.\n \n Basically, his idea was simple. Art collections had been disappearing from closely guarded galleries and homes all over the world. It was obvious that no one could enter a locked vault, remove a stack of large canvases and leave, unnoticed by watchful guards—and leaving the locks undamaged.\n \n Yet the paintings were gone. Someone had been in those vaults—someone who hadn't entered in the usual way.\n \n Theory failed at that point; that left the experimental method. The Snithian collection was the largest west of the Mississippi. With such a target, the thieves were bound to show up. If Dan sat in the vault—day and night—waiting—he would see for himself how they operated.\n \n He finished his sandwich, went to the shelves and pulled down one of the brown-paper bundles. Loosening the string binding the package, he slid a painting into view. It was a gaily colored view of an open-air cafe, with a group of men and women in gay-ninetyish costumes gathered at a table. He seemed to remember reading something about it in a magazine. It was a cheerful scene; Dan liked it. Still, it hardly seemed worth all the effort....\n \n He went to the wall switch and turned off the lights. The orange glow of the filaments died, leaving only a faint illumination from the night-light over the door. When the thieves arrived, it might give him a momentary advantage if his eyes were adjusted to the dark. He groped his way to the bunk.\n \n So far, so good, he reflected, stretching out. When they showed up, he'd have to handle everything just right. If he scared them off there'd be no second chance. He would have lost his crack at—whatever his discovery might mean to him.\n \n But he was ready. Let them come.\n \n \n\n \n Eight hours, three sandwiches and six beers later, Dan roused suddenly from a light doze and sat up on the cot. Between him and the crowded shelving, a palely luminous framework was materializing in mid-air.\n \n The apparition was an open-work cage—about the size and shape of an out-house minus the sheathing, Dan estimated breathlessly. Two figures were visible within the structure, sitting stiffly in contoured chairs. They glowed, if anything, more brightly than the framework.\n \n A faint sound cut into the stillness—a descending whine. The cage moved jerkily, settling toward the floor. Long blue sparks jumped, crackling, to span the closing gap; with a grate of metal, the cage settled against the floor. The spectral men reached for ghostly switches....\n \n The glow died.\n \n Dan was aware of his heart thumping painfully under his ribs. His mouth was dry. This was the moment he'd been planning for, but now that it was here—\n \n Never mind. He took a deep breath, ran over the speeches he had prepared for the occasion:\n  Greeting, visitors from the Future....\n \n \n Hopelessly corny. What about: Welcome to the Twentieth Century....\n \n \n No good; it lacked spontaneity. The men were rising, their backs to Dan, stepping out of the skeletal frame. In the dim light it now looked like nothing more than a rough frame built of steel pipe, with a cluster of levers in a console before the two seats. And the thieves looked ordinary enough: Two men in gray coveralls, one slender and balding, the other shorter and round-faced. Neither of them noticed Dan, sitting rigid on the cot. The thin man placed a lantern on the table, twiddled a knob. A warm light sprang up. The visitors looked at the stacked shelves.\n \n \"Looks like the old boy's been doing all right,\" the shorter man said.\n\"Fathead's gonna be pleased.\"\n \n \"A very gratifying consignment,\" his companion said. \"However, we'd best hurry, Manny. How much time have we left on this charge?\"\n \n \"Plenty. Fifteen minutes anyway.\"\n \n The thin man opened a package, glanced at a painting.\n \n \"Ah, magnificent. Almost the equal of Picasso in his puce period.\"\n \n Manny shuffled through the other pictures in the stack.\n \n \"Like always,\" he grumbled. \"No nood dames. I like nood dames.\"\n \n \"Look at this, Manny! The textures alone—\"\n \n Manny looked. \"Yeah, nice use of values,\" he conceded. \"But I still prefer nood dames, Fiorello.\"\n \n \"And this!\" Fiorello lifted the next painting. \"Look at that gay play of rich browns!\"\n \n \"I seen richer browns on Thirty-third Street,\" Manny said. \"They was popular with the sparrows.\"\n \n \"Manny, sometimes I think your aspirations—\"\n \n \"Whatta ya talkin? I use a roll-on.\" Manny, turning to place a painting in the cage, stopped dead as he caught sight of Dan. The painting clattered to the floor. Dan stood, cleared his throat. \"Uh....\"\n \n \"Oh-oh,\" Manny said. \"A double-cross.\"\n \n \"I've—ah—been expecting you gentlemen,\" Dan said. \"I—\"\n \n \"I told you we couldn't trust no guy with nine fingers on each hand,\" Manny whispered hoarsely. He moved toward the cage. \"Let's blow, Fiorello.\"\n \n \"Wait a minute,\" Dan said. \"Before you do anything hasty—\"\n \n \"Don't start nothing, Buster,\" Manny said cautiously. \"We're plenty tough guys when aroused.\"\n \n \"I want to talk to you,\" Dan insisted. \"You see, these paintings—\"\n \n \"Paintings? Look, it was all a mistake. Like, we figured this was the gent's room—\"\n \n \"Never mind, Manny,\" Fiorello cut in. \"It appears there's been a leak.\"\n \n Dan shook his head. \"No leak. I simply deduced—\"\n \n \"Look, Fiorello,\" Manny said. \"You chin if you want to; I'm doing a fast fade.\"\n \n \"Don't act hastily, Manny. You know where you'll end.\"\n \n \"Wait a minute!\" Dan shouted. \"I'd like to make a deal with you fellows.\"\n \n \"Ah-hah!\" Kelly's voice blared from somewhere. \"I knew it! Slane, you crook!\"\n \n \n\n \n Dan looked about wildly. The voice seemed to be issuing from a speaker. It appeared Kelly hedged his bets.\n \n \"Mr. Kelly, I can explain everything!\" Dan called. He turned back to Fiorello. \"Listen, I figured out—\"\n \n \"Pretty clever!\" Kelly's voice barked. \"Inside job. But it takes more than the likes of you to out-fox an old-timer like Eddie Kelly.\"\n \n \"Perhaps you were right, Manny,\" Fiorello said. \"Complications are arising. We'd best depart with all deliberate haste.\" He edged toward the cage.\n \n \"What about this ginzo?\" Manny jerked a thumb toward Dan. \"He's on to us.\"\n \n \"Can't be helped.\"\n \n \"Look—I want to go with you!\" Dan shouted.\n \n \"I'll bet you do!\" Kelly's voice roared. \"One more minute and I'll have the door open and collar the lot of you! Came up through a tunnel, did you?\"\n \n \"You can't go, my dear fellow,\" Fiorello said. \"Room for two, no more.\"\n \n Dan whirled to the cot, grabbed up the pistol Kelly had supplied. He aimed it at Manny. \"You stay here, Manny! I'm going with Fiorello in the time machine.\"\n \n \"Are you nuts?\" Manny demanded.\n \n \"I'm flattered, dear boy,\" Fiorello said, \"but—\"\n \n \"Let's get moving. Kelly will have that lock open in a minute.\"\n \n \"You can't leave me here!\" Manny spluttered, watching Dan crowd into the cage beside Fiorello.\n \n \"We'll send for you,\" Dan said. \"Let's go, Fiorello.\"\n \n The balding man snatched suddenly for the gun. Dan wrestled with him. The pistol fell, bounced on the floor of the cage, skidded into the far corner of the vault. Manny charged, reaching for Dan as he twisted aside; Fiorello's elbow caught him in the mouth. Manny staggered back into the arms of Kelly, bursting red-faced into the vault.\n \n \"Manny!\" Fiorello released his grip on Dan, lunged to aid his companion. Kelly passed Manny to one of three cops crowding in on his heels. Dan clung to the framework as Fiorello grappled with Kelly. A cop pushed past them, spotted Dan, moved in briskly for the pinch. Dan grabbed a lever at random and pulled.\n \n Sudden silence fell as the walls of the room glowed blue. A spectral Kelly capered before the cage, fluorescing in the blue-violet. Dan swallowed hard and nudged a second lever. The cage sank like an elevator into the floor, vivid blue washing up its sides.\n \n Hastily he reversed the control. Operating a time machine was tricky business. One little slip, and the Slane molecules would be squeezing in among brick and mortar particles....\n \n But this was no time to be cautious. Things hadn't turned out just the way he'd planned, but after all, this was what he'd wanted—in a way. The time machine was his to command. And if he gave up now and crawled back into the vault, Kelly would gather him in and pin every art theft of the past decade on him.\n \n It couldn't be too hard. He'd take it slowly, figure out the controls....\n \n \n\n \n Dan took a deep breath and tried another lever. The cage rose gently, in eerie silence. It reached the ceiling and kept going. Dan gritted his teeth as an eight-inch band of luminescence passed down the cage. Then he was emerging into a spacious kitchen. A blue-haloed cook waddled to a luminous refrigerator, caught sight of Dan rising slowly from the floor, stumbled back, mouth open. The cage rose, penetrated a second ceiling. Dan looked around at a carpeted hall.\n \n Cautiously he neutralized the control lever. The cage came to rest an inch above the floor. As far as Dan could tell, he hadn't traveled so much as a minute into the past or future.\n \n He looked over the controls. There should be one labeled \"Forward\" and another labeled \"Back\", but all the levers were plain, unadorned black. They looked, Dan decided, like ordinary circuit-breaker type knife-switches. In fact, the whole apparatus had the appearance of something thrown together hastily from common materials. Still, it worked. So far he had only found the controls for maneuvering in the usual three dimensions, but the time switch was bound to be here somewhere....\n \n Dan looked up at a movement at the far end of the hall.\n \n A girl's head and shoulders appeared, coming up a spiral staircase. In another second she would see him, and give the alarm—and Dan needed a few moments of peace and quiet in which to figure out the controls. He moved a lever. The cage drifted smoothly sideways, sliced through the wall with a flurry of vivid blue light. Dan pushed the lever back. He was in a bedroom now, a wide chamber with flouncy curtains, a four-poster under a flowered canopy, a dressing table—\n \n The door opened and the girl stepped into the room. She was young. Not over eighteen, Dan thought—as nearly as he could tell with the blue light playing around her face. She had long hair tied with a ribbon, and long legs, neatly curved. She wore shorts and carried a tennis racquet in her left hand and an apple in her right. Her back to Dan and the cage, she tossed the racquet on a table, took a bite of the apple, and began briskly unbuttoning her shirt.\n \n Dan tried moving a lever. The cage edged toward the girl. Another; he rose gently. The girl tossed the shirt onto a chair and undid the zipper down the side of the shorts. Another lever; the cage shot toward the outer wall as the girl reached behind her back....\n \n Dan blinked at the flash of blue and looked down. He was hovering twenty feet above a clipped lawn.\n \n He looked at the levers. Wasn't it the first one in line that moved the cage ahead? He tried it, shot forward ten feet. Below, a man stepped out on the terrace, lit a cigarette, paused, started to turn his face up—\n \n Dan jabbed at a lever. The cage shot back through the wall. He was in a plain room with a depression in the floor, a wide window with a planter filled with glowing blue plants—\n \n The door opened. Even blue, the girl looked graceful as a deer as she took a last bite of the apple and stepped into the ten-foot-square sunken tub. Dan held his breath. The girl tossed the apple core aside, seemed to suddenly become aware of eyes on her, whirled—\n \n With a sudden lurch that threw Dan against the steel bars, the cage shot through the wall into the open air and hurtled off with an acceleration that kept him pinned, helpless. He groped for the controls, hauled at a lever. There was no change. The cage rushed on, rising higher. In the distance, Dan saw the skyline of a town, approaching with frightful speed. A tall office building reared up fifteen stories high. He was headed dead for it—\n \n He covered his ears, braced himself—\n \n With an abruptness that flung him against the opposite side of the cage, the machine braked, shot through the wall and slammed to a stop. Dan sank to the floor of the cage, breathing hard. There was a loud click! and the glow faded.\n \n With a lunge, Dan scrambled out of the cage. He stood looking around at a simple brown-painted office, dimly lit by sunlight filtered through elaborate venetian blinds. There were posters on the wall, a potted plant by the door, a heap of framed paintings beside it, and at the far side of the room a desk. And behind the desk—Something.\n \n \n\n II\n \n Dan gaped at a head the size of a beachball, mounted on a torso like a hundred-gallon bag of water. Two large brown eyes blinked at him from points eight inches apart. Immense hands with too many fingers unfolded and reached to open a brown paper carton, dip in, then toss three peanuts, deliberately, one by one, into a gaping mouth that opened just above the brown eyes.\n \n \"Who're you?\" a bass voice demanded from somewhere near the floor.\n \n \"I'm ... I'm ... Dan Slane ... your honor.\"\n \n \"What happened to Manny and Fiorello?\"\n \n \"They—I—There was this cop. Kelly—\"\n \n \"Oh-oh.\" The brown eyes blinked deliberately. The many-fingered hands closed the peanut carton and tucked it into a drawer.\n \n \"Well, it was a sweet racket while it lasted,\" the basso voice said. \"A pity to terminate so happy an enterprise. Still....\" A noise like an amplified Bronx cheer issued from the wide mouth.\n \n \"How ... what...?\"\n \n \"The carrier returns here automatically when the charge drops below a critical value,\" the voice said. \"A necessary measure to discourage big ideas on the part of wisenheimers in my employ. May I ask how you happen to be aboard the carrier, by the way?\"\n \n \"I just wanted—I mean, after I figured out—that is, the police ... I went for help,\" Dan finished lamely.\n \n \"Help? Out of the picture, unfortunately. One must maintain one's anonymity, you'll appreciate. My operation here is under wraps at present. Ah, I don't suppose you brought any paintings?\"\n \n Dan shook his head. He was staring at the posters. His eyes, accustoming themselves to the gloom of the office, could now make out the vividly drawn outline of a creature resembling an alligator-headed giraffe rearing up above scarlet foliage. The next poster showed a face similar to the beachball behind the desk, with red circles painted around the eyes. The next was a view of a yellow volcano spouting fire into a black sky.\n \n \"Too bad.\" The words seemed to come from under the desk. Dan squinted, caught a glimpse of coiled purplish tentacles. He gulped and looked up to catch a brown eye upon him. Only one. The other seemed to be busily at work studying the ceiling.\n \n \"I hope,\" the voice said, \"that you ain't harboring no reactionary racial prejudices.\"\n \n \n\n \n \"Gosh, no,\" Dan reassured the eye. \"I'm crazy about—uh—\"\n \n \"Vorplischers,\" the voice said. \"From Vorplisch, or Vega, as you call it.\" The Bronx cheer sounded again. \"How I long to glimpse once more my native fens! Wherever one wanders, there's no pad like home.\"\n \n \"That reminds me,\" Dan said. \"I have to be running along now.\" He sidled toward the door.\n \n \"Stick around, Dan,\" the voice rumbled. \"How about a drink? I can offer you Chateau Neuf du Pape, '59, Romance Conte, '32, goat's milk, Pepsi—\"\n \n \"No, thanks.\"\n \n \"If you don't mind, I believe I'll have a Big Orange.\" The Vorplischer swiveled to a small refrigerator, removed an immense bottle fitted with a nipple and turned back to Dan. \"Now, I got a proposition which may be of some interest to you. The loss of Manny and Fiorello is a serious blow, but we may yet recoup the situation. You made the scene at a most opportune time. What I got in mind is, with those two clowns out of the picture, a vacancy exists on my staff, which you might well fill. How does that grab you?\"\n \n \"You mean you want me to take over operating the time machine?\"\n \n \"Time machine?\" The brown eyes blinked alternately. \"I fear some confusion exists. I don't quite dig the significance of the term.\"\n \n \"That thing,\" Dan jabbed a thumb toward the cage. \"The machine I came here in. You want me—\"\n \n \"Time machine,\" the voice repeated. \"Some sort of chronometer, perhaps?\"\n \n \"Huh?\"\n \n \"I pride myself on my command of the local idiom, yet I confess the implied concept snows me.\" The nine-fingered hands folded on the desk. The beachball head leaned forward interestedly. \"Clue me, Dan. What's a time machine?\"\n \n \"Well, it's what you use to travel through time.\"\n \n The brown eyes blinked in agitated alternation. \"Apparently I've loused up my investigation of the local cultural background. I had no idea you were capable of that sort of thing.\" The immense head leaned back, the wide mouth opening and closing rapidly. \"And to think I've been spinning my wheels collecting primitive 2-D art!\"\n \n \"But—don't you have a time machine? I mean, isn't that one?\"\n \n \"That? That's merely a carrier. Now tell me more about your time machines. A fascinating concept! My superiors will be delighted at this development—and astonished as well. They regard this planet as Endsville.\"\n \n \n\n \n \"Your superiors?\" Dan eyed the window; much too far to jump. Maybe he could reach the machine and try a getaway—\n \n \"I hope you're not thinking of leaving suddenly,\" the beachball said, following Dan's glance. One of the eighteen fingers touched a six-inch yellow cylinder lying on the desk. \"Until the carrier is fueled, I'm afraid it's quite useless. But, to put you in the picture, I'd best introduce myself and explain my mission here. I'm Blote, Trader Fourth Class, in the employ of the Vegan Confederation. My job is to develop new sources of novelty items for the impulse-emporiums of the entire Secondary Quadrant.\"\n \n \"But the way Manny and Fiorello came sailing in through the wall! That has to be a time machine they were riding in. Nothing else could just materialize out of thin air like that.\"\n \n \"You seem to have a time-machine fixation, Dan,\" Blote said. \"You shouldn't assume, just because you people have developed time travel, that everyone has. Now—\" Blote's voice sank to a bass whisper—\"I'll make a deal with you, Dan. You'll secure a small time machine in good condition for me. And in return—\"\n \n \" I'm supposed to supply you with a time machine?\"\n \n Blote waggled a stubby forefinger at Dan. \"I dislike pointing it out, Dan, but you are in a rather awkward position at the moment. Illegal entry, illegal possession of property, trespass—then doubtless some embarrassment exists back at the Snithian residence. I daresay Mr. Kelly would have a warm welcome for you. And, of course, I myself would deal rather harshly with any attempt on your part to take a powder.\" The Vegan flexed all eighteen fingers, drummed his tentacles under the desk, and rolled one eye, bugging the other at Dan.\n \n \"Whereas, on the other hand,\" Blote's bass voice went on, \"you and me got the basis of a sweet deal. You supply the machine, and I fix you up with an abundance of the local medium of exchange. Equitable enough, I should say. What about it, Dan?\"\n \n \"Ah, let me see,\" Dan temporized. \"Time machine. Time machine—\"\n \n \"Don't attempt to weasel on me, Dan,\" Blote rumbled ominously.\n \n \"I'd better look in the phone book,\" Dan suggested.\n \n Silently, Blote produced a dog-eared directory. Dan opened it.\n \n \"Time, time. Let's see....\" He brightened. \"Time, Incorporated; local branch office. Two twenty-one Maple Street.\"\n \n \"A sales center?\" Blote inquired. \"Or a manufacturing complex?\"\n \n \"Both,\" Dan said. \"I'll just nip over and—\"\n \n \"That won't be necessary, Dan,\" Blote said. \"I'll accompany you.\" He took the directory, studied it.\n \n \"Remarkable! A common commodity, openly on sale, and I failed to notice it. Still, a ripe nut can fall from a small tree as well as from a large.\" He went to his desk, rummaged, came up with a handful of fuel cells. \"Now, off to gather in the time machine.\" He took his place in the carrier, patted the seat beside him with a wide hand. \"Come, Dan. Get a wiggle on.\"\n \n \n\n \n Hesitantly, Dan moved to the carrier. The bluff was all right up to a point—but the point had just about been reached. He took his seat. Blote moved a lever. The familiar blue glow sprang up. \"Kindly direct me, Dan,\" Blote demanded. \"Two twenty-one Maple Street, I believe you said.\"\n \n \"I don't know the town very well,\" Dan said, \"but Maple's over that way.\"\n \n Blote worked levers. The carrier shot out into a ghostly afternoon sky. Faint outlines of buildings, like faded negatives, spread below. Dan looked around, spotted lettering on a square five-story structure.\n \n \"Over there,\" he said. Blote directed the machine as it swooped smoothly toward the flat roof Dan indicated.\n \n \"Better let me take over now,\" Dan suggested. \"I want to be sure to get us to the right place.\"\n \n \"Very well, Dan.\"\n \n Dan dropped the carrier through the roof, passed down through a dimly seen office. Blote twiddled a small knob. The scene around the cage grew even fainter. \"Best we remain unnoticed,\" he explained.\n \n The cage descended steadily. Dan peered out, searching for identifying landmarks. He leveled off at the second floor, cruised along a barely visible corridor. Blote's eyes rolled, studying the small chambers along both sides of the passage at once.\n \n \"Ah, this must be the assembly area,\" he exclaimed. \"I see the machines employ a bar-type construction, not unlike our carriers.\"\n \n \"That's right,\" Dan said, staring through the haziness. \"This is where they do time....\" He tugged at a lever suddenly; the machine veered left, flickered through a barred door, came to a halt. Two nebulous figures loomed beside the cage. Dan cut the switch. If he'd guessed wrong—\n \n The scene fluoresced, sparks crackling, then popped into sharp focus. Blote scrambled out, brown eyes swivelling to take in the concrete walls, the barred door and—\n \n \"You!\" a hoarse voice bellowed.\n \n \"Grab him!\" someone yelled.\n \n Blote recoiled, threshing his ambulatory members in a fruitless attempt to regain the carrier as Manny and Fiorello closed in. Dan hauled at a lever. He caught a last glimpse of three struggling, blue-lit figures as the carrier shot away through the cell wall.\n \n \n\n III\n \n Dan slumped back against the seat with a sigh. Now that he was in the clear, he would have to decide on his next move—fast. There was no telling what other resources Blote might have. He would have to hide the carrier, then—\n \n A low growling was coming from somewhere, rising in pitch and volume. Dan sat up, alarmed. This was no time for a malfunction.\n \n The sound rose higher, into a penetrating wail. There was no sign of mechanical trouble. The carrier glided on, swooping now over a nebulous landscape of trees and houses. Dan covered his ears against the deafening shriek, like all the police sirens in town blaring at once. If the carrier stopped it would be a long fall from here. Dan worked the controls, dropping toward the distant earth.\n \n The noise seemed to lessen, descending the scale. Dan slowed, brought the carrier in to the corner of a wide park. He dropped the last few inches and cut the switch.\n \n As the glow died, the siren faded into silence.\n \n Dan stepped from the carrier and looked around. Whatever the noise was, it hadn't attracted any attention from the scattered pedestrians in the park. Perhaps it was some sort of burglar alarm. But if so, why hadn't it gone into action earlier? Dan took a deep breath. Sound or no sound, he would have to get back into the carrier and transfer it to a secluded spot where he could study it at leisure. He stepped back in, reached for the controls—\n \n There was a sudden chill in the air. The bright surface of the dials before him frosted over. There was a loud pop! like a flashbulb exploding. Dan stared from the seat at an iridescent rectangle which hung suspended near the carrier. Its surface rippled, faded to blankness. In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in a tight-fitting white uniform stepped through.\n \n Dan gaped at the small rounded head, the dark-skinned long-nosed face, the long, muscular arms, the hands, their backs tufted with curly red-brown hair, the strange long-heeled feet in soft boots. A neat pillbox cap with a short visor was strapped low over the deep-set yellowish eyes, which turned in his direction. The wide mouth opened in a smile which showed square yellowish teeth.\n \n \" Alors, monsieur ,\" the new-comer said, bending his knees and back in a quick bow. \" Vous ete une indigine, n'est ce pas? \"\n \n \"No compree,\" Dan choked out \"Uh ... juh no parlay Fransay....\"\n \n \"My error. This is the Anglic colonial sector, isn't it? Stupid of me. Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Dzhackoon, Field Agent of Class five, Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"\n \n \"That siren,\" Dan said. \"Was that you?\"\n \n Dzhackoon nodded. \"For a moment, it appeared you were disinclined to stop. I'm glad you decided to be reasonable.\"\n \n \"What outfit did you say you were with?\" Dan asked.\n \n \"The Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.\"\n \n \"Inter-what?\"\n \n \"Dimensional. The word is imprecise, of course, but it's the best our language coder can do, using the Anglic vocabulary.\"\n \n \"What do you want with me?\"", "questions": [{"question_text": "What is the plot of the story?", "question_number": 1, "responses": [{"worker_id": "101", "uid": "5dd4584b64cd4013a05f1a25d0fb5c3b", "response_text": "Dan Slane is in Clyde Snithian's office; he proposes that, in response to a recent slew of art thefts, he guard Snithian's art vault overnight in addition to the external security he has. Dan is suspicious about the thefts and has a theory that the crooks are entering from within the vaults, perhaps through time travel. Snithian refuses to hire Dan, but Kelly, head of security, hires him in secret. That night, Dan guards from within the vault, keeping himself occupied with sleep and food, when a strange, cage like contraption appears out of thin air. Two men emerge, named Manny and Fiorello, and Dan hesitantly confronts them. While Dan speaks to them, Kelly's voice suddenly booms from a hidden speaker in the room, under the impression that Dan had been in on the thefts. Dan wrestles Manny and Fiorello off and manages to take control of the carrier and escape. Not knowing how to control it, Dan finds himself passing through many rooms and settings, until the carrier finally settles in an office room of a skyscraper. There, Dan meets Blote, a strange, giant-like creature, who asks him what happened to Manny and Fiorello. Blote, the apparent head of the art schemes, requests that Dan join the team to replace them. Dan refuses, and asks about the carrier, referring to it as a time machine; Blote is perplexed, unaware of the concept of a time machine, and demands that Dan find one in exchange for a reward, and for avoiding trouble for trespassing. Dan, unsure of where to retrieve a time machine, bluffs and manages to take Blote back to Snithian's, where he abandons him. Suddenly, Dan hears a siren, and the carrier travels to a park. The carrier becomes frosted over as a man emerges to confront him. The man introduces himself as an agent of the Inter-Dimensional Monitor Service."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "0908baab3d9e4c83a9be168b643c07d6", "response_text": "Dan Slane approaches Clyde Snithian to tell about a flaw in the guarding system for paintings. There are more than two hundred bodyguards across the house but none in the vault, which is dangerous, because recently art collections were disappearing from locked vaults all over the world. Clyde refuses to waste more money on security and walks away, while Kelly, who is responsible for security, agrees to hire Dan for cheap. Dan makes himself comfortable at the new workplace and waits for the thieves to find out how they break in, which is his real goal. After eight hours, a framework appears in the air with two figures from the future sitting within, who soon step out into the vault. The two men, Manny and Fiorello, open and admire the paintings from the shelves without noticing Dan. When they realize his presence, the men try to back off and pretend to confuse the rooms. When Dan starts proposing a deal, Kelly's voice proclaims Dan a crook. Dan wants to join the departing men, and as there is only room for two, he aims the pistol at Manny. A fight for place happens and Kelly enters, grabbing Manny. Fiorello rushes to help his friend, another cop moves towards Dan, who enters the time machine and pulls a lever at random. Dan's plan goes wrong but he has the machine for himself as he wanted and he needs to figure out the controls. He emerges into a kitchen and then moves through the house to avoid being seen, unable to travel in time. Dan nearly crashes into a building but suddenly finds himself in an office with a weird creature at the desk. The boss asks about his two employees and Dan's coming. The creature comes from Vorplisch and proposes to Dan to take the place of Manny and Fiorello. When Dan mentions the time-machine, it turns out that the framework is a simple carrier, but a time-machine intrigues the creature who believes the humans have developed one. The creature introduces himself as Blote and warns Dan against trying to leave. He also tasks Dan with securing a time-machine for Blote, otherwise, Dan will be dealt harshly with. Dan points at the first name in the phone book and Blote decides to accompany him to the office to buy a time-machine. Blote is surprised he missed this development. The two drive towards the pointed building and get into it in secret. Inside, someone catches Blote for the break-in and Dan leaves in the carrier. Some noise appears from the machine and Dan finds himself in a park, where another creature named Dzhackoon appears, he is from Inter-dimensional Monitor Service. \n"}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "606a6489aa824107a87203bd52f29b0b", "response_text": "Clyde W. Snithian is meeting with Dan Slane. Dan has told Eddie Kelly that he to see Snithian regarding the safeguarding of his paintings. Although Snithian has stationed two hundred and twenty-five guards working at all times, nobody is in the vault with the paintings. Snithian thinks it is unnecessary, but Kelly finds that Dan has a point. Snithian thinks it is unnecessary, but he is hired secretly anyway because he is willing to work cheaply. His purpose of doing this job is to see whoever has been stealing art from collections without entering the usual way. Since the Snithian collection is the largest west of the Mississippi, he waits inside and sees how the thieves operate. Eight hours later, Dan wakes up from his light doze when an apparition in the shape of an open-work cage with two figures inside suddenly materializes. Two men rise out of the cage, and they are pleased that the collection is fully-stocked. The shorter man, named Manny, complains that there are no nood dames. The taller man, named Fiorello, remarks on the artistic techniques of the paintings. Dan suddenly interrupts their conversation, and the two try to come up with excuses. Suddenly, Mr. Kelly’s voice interrupts them as he assumes that Dan is working with the two. Dan points a pistol at Manny and tells him to stay because he will go with Fiorello; Kelly and three cops suddenly appear to confront them. As they struggle, Dan gets into the machine and tries to get a grip on the controls. He neutralizes the control lever to rest an inch above the floor, and a young girl appears at the end of the hallway. The girl gets ready to get into a tub, and as she whirls to see if there is anybody, the cage shoots with great acceleration. He scrambles out of the cage once he reaches his destination and sees a large man with too many hands behind a desk. The man is a Vorplischer, and he is confused when Dan calls the contraption a time machine. It is simply a carrier, and beachball says that his superiors will be delighted with any knowledge of a time machine. He introduces himself as Blote and tells Dan to bring back a small time machine. Dan pretends to bluff, and Blote says that he will go with him to the location he has picked. As Dan leads him through the building area in the cage, Manny and Fiorello come back for revenge. The carrier, with Dan in it, shoots away again; he begins to hear sirens as it goes to a new location. Although it does not catch the attention of anyone, Dan steps out to investigate as a dark-skinned, long-nosed, and  tall figure in a white uniform approaches him. The man, named Dzhackoon, introduces himself as a member of the Inter-dimensional Monitor Service and tells him that he is glad Dan stopped. Dan is confused and asks what Dzhackoon wants from him. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "67b2102064a84a55a17285dc33d447ba", "response_text": "The story begins with Dan Slane in Clyde W. Snithian’s office. Dan is trying to convince Clyde that he has a deficiency in his security details and he would be the perfect person to fix the issuer. He is dismissed by the man, but Kelly, Clyde’s head of security pulls him aside and informs him that he will hire him. Dan agrees to the conditions and is quickly put to work to monitor the vault by staying inside of it. \n\nDan’s plan is to catch the thieves that are entering vaults and successfully stealing artwork. He has a suspicion that there is time travel involved in the plan. He suddenly wakes up and notices two frames in the vault with him. They are discussing their mission and the paintings that they spot in the vault. One of them eventually notices Dan, and he tries to stammer out a reply. He tells the two men, Fiorella and Manny, that he wants to join them. Kelly, who is listening into the fault, overhears Dan betraying him and shouts as such over a speaker installed in the vault. Dan gets into the carrier and successfully steals it. He figures out how to operate it and eventually ends up at the office of Blote. Blote, a Fourth Class Trader employed by the Vegan Confederation, is the boss of Manny and Fiorello. He’s not mad at Dan and is willing to allow Dan to join his operations. During their discussions, Dan keeps insisting that a carrier is a time machine. Blote misunderstands Dan’s assertions and believes him to not be referring to the carrier as he has never heard of someone successfully inventing the time machine. Blote then insists that Dan immediately take him to a time machine. Dan agrees to do so, and Blote controls the carrier to take both of them there. However, it is a trap and they end up in the vault where Manny and Fiorello still are trapped. Manny, Fiorello, and Blote are all angry with Dan and try to take control of the carrier. Dan is able to get away and he quickly moves the carrier into a different location. When the carrier settles again, he is greeted by a strange-looking figure that speaks to him in French. After some slight discussion between the two, Dan is told that he is in a place called the Anglic colonial sector and that the man is with the Inter-dimensional Monitor Service. It is clear that Dan has ended up in another strange and unknown location and is confused by his predicament. \n"}]}, {"question_text": "Describe the setting of the story.", "question_number": 2, "responses": [{"worker_id": "101", "uid": "5dd4584b64cd4013a05f1a25d0fb5c3b", "response_text": "The first part of the story takes place in Snithian's headquarters, where he speaks to Dan in his office. Later that night, Dan sleeps in the art vault, a small room with gray walls that support paintings wrapped in brown paper. The room contains a bunk, fridge, and bookshelf. Once Dan escapes through the carrier, he finds himself passing through different rooms, including a kitchen, hallway, and bedroom. The carrier then takes him to an office in a skyscraper, with posters, framed paintings, and a desk, where he finds Blote. After returning back to Snithian's, the carrier takes him to a large park."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "0908baab3d9e4c83a9be168b643c07d6", "response_text": "The story starts on Snithian's property. Dan is hired to guard his art collection. The vault has gray walls, shelves stacked with wrapped paintings, a refrigerator with some snacks, a radio, an armchair bunk, a bookshelf and a small table. Soon a framework appears in the air with two people in armchairs. A mess takes place and Dan enters the framework alone. There are a lot of controls and levers, so Dan moves into some spacious kitchen with a cook. Then he travels through the house with a carpeted hall, a spiral staircase, a wide bedroom with flouncy curtains, a dressing table and a flowered canopy. Outside there is a clipped lawn an d a terrace, inside Dan appears in a plain room with a planter and a wide window. Suddenly, he heads towards some building wall and finds himself in a simple brown office with dim light, posters, paintings and a weird creature at the table, Blote. The two then travel in the framework to a corporation building. Trough a flat roof the carrier enters the dim office with some machines. When Blote is caught, Dan takes the carrier to the park, accompanied bosom siren-like noise. In the park he faces a tall man reminding Blote. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "606a6489aa824107a87203bd52f29b0b", "response_text": "The story is initially set at Clyde W. Snithian’s home. There is a vault full of paintings that is unguarded until Dan offers to become a guard. In the vault, there are shelves stacked with wrapped paintings under a low ceiling. Two three-hundred-watt bulbs also light the place up. To prepare Dan, Kelly has also ordered a neat-white refrigerator, a bunk, an arm-chair, a bookshelf, and a small table. The table is set with paper plates, plastic utensils, and a radio. Inside the fridge, Dan finds salami, liverwurst, cheese, and beer. The carrier that arrives in is an open-work cage about the size and shape of an outhouse minus the sheathing. There are two contoured chairs too. When Dan grabs the lever, he finds himself in a room with walls that glow blue. There is also a second lever present too. There is a third lever that causes the carrier to rise. The levers themselves do not have any controls written by them, and they are all plain, unadorned black. They look like ordinary circuit-breaker type knife-switches, and even the entire carrier looks hastily thrown together. He reaches an area with a hallway and goes into a bedroom shortly after. It is a wide chamber with flouncy curtains, a four-poster bed with a flowered canopy, and a dressing table. The area he is in has a terrace. Then, he steers the machine to a plain room with a depression in the floor, a wide window, and a planter filled with glowing blue plants. In the room, there is also a ten-foot-square sunken tub. The office that Blote is in is painted a simple brown, dimly lit by sunlight filtered through elaborate Venetian blinds. There is also a potted plant by the door, a heap of framed paintings beside it, and a desk on the far side of the room. Posters also line the walls of the office. The Time office that they go to is a square, five-story structure with lettering. The location is two twenty-one Maple Street. There is a dimly seen office, a second floor, and a barely visible corridor. Finally, when he gets into the carrier again, it takes him to an area where there is a landscape of trees and houses. He stops at the corner of a wide park. \n"}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "67b2102064a84a55a17285dc33d447ba", "response_text": "The story begins in Clyde W. Snithian’s office. After being hired by the head of security, Kelly, Dan settles into living within the vault. The vault is described as having grey walls with a low ceiling. Shelves are stacked against the walls and wrapped paintings are adorned upon them. There is a refrigerator, a bed, an armchair, a table, and a bookshelf along with other useful supplies for Dan to live in the vault. After taking the travel apparatus from the two art thieves, Fiorello and Manny, Dan ends up at the office of Blote. Under false pretences, Dan and Blote both end up traveling back to the vault where Manny and Fiorello still are trapped. Dan successfully is able to maneuver the three away from the carrier and he navigates it to a different location away from the vault. When Dan steps out of the carrier, he meets a strange-looking man. Through small talk, the man informs Dan that he is in the Anglic colonial sector speaking to a Field Agent of Class five with the Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.  "}]}, {"question_text": "What is the relationship between Dan and Blote?", "question_number": 3, "responses": [{"worker_id": "101", "uid": "5dd4584b64cd4013a05f1a25d0fb5c3b", "response_text": "Dan first meets Blote when he finally stops the carrier. Blote is a giant, strange man with a beachball-like head and many fingers, with a mouth above his eyes. Dan is immediately intimidated and fascinated by Blote, and Blote, aware of his superiority, requests that Dan replace Manny and Fiorello in the art stealing scheme. When Dan refuses, Blote orders that he find him a time machine and threatens to punish him for trespassing. Dan manages to fool Blote, but the two have an imbalanced power relationship, where Blote is much more powerful than Dan. "}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "0908baab3d9e4c83a9be168b643c07d6", "response_text": "Dan is mistaken and he believes the carrier to be a time-machine, so he doesn't expect to meet Blote, especially considering the fact that the least is an alien. Dan basically spoils Blote's mission by preventing his two employees' escape. This mistake makes Blote to be seeking for the new employees and as Dan has seen him and knows about his crimes, he offers the job to the man. Dan is afraid and has no means to escape. Blote believes humans to develop a time-machine due to Dan's mistake and now he wants Dan to get it. So, their relationship is based on confusion and dangerous fo Dan. For that reason, the least leaves Blote behind and escapes, stealing the carrier. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "606a6489aa824107a87203bd52f29b0b", "response_text": "Blote is very interested after seeing Dan arrive from the carrier. He asks who Dan is and what he did to the other two men. He also supposes that Dan did not bring any paintings back after finding out how he got on the carrier. When Blote catches Dan looking at him, he says that he hopes Dan does not harbor any racial prejudices against him. He offers Dan something to drink after revealing what species he is from. Although Manny and Fiorello are gone, Blote is interested in hiring Dan as one of the staff. When Dan asks him about the time machine, however, he assumes that Dan is talking about how he knows where to get one. Dan is confused since he thinks that a carrier is a time machine. However, he becomes shocked once he realizes what Blote wants him to do for him to pay back for taking the carrier. To escape, he bluffs Blote into taking him to the fake Time location. Although Blote trusts him, Dan betrays this trust once Manny and Fiorello appear, leaving the three of them behind. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "67b2102064a84a55a17285dc33d447ba", "response_text": "Dan and Blote meet after Dan takes the apparatus from Fiorello and Manny after their tussle in the vault. Blote is the boss of Fiorello and Manny. Blote does not appear to be mad at Dan and even tries to recruit Dan to join his operations. He speaks very matter of fact to Dan and appears to try to answer his questions even though he does become confused at some of them. He trusts Dan to show him where to find a time machine and they both get on the carrier to go to the supposed location. However, Dan eventually betrays this trust and leads him into a trap. Then Dan ultimately takes the carrier again and goes to another unknown location. "}]}, {"question_text": "What happens to Dan throughout the story?", "question_number": 4, "responses": [{"worker_id": "101", "uid": "5dd4584b64cd4013a05f1a25d0fb5c3b", "response_text": "Dan first proposes to Snithian that he take on the job of guarding his art vault at night in order to catch the mysterious,  serial art thieves. Snithian declines, but Kelly, head of security, accepts, and that night Dan is settled into the vault. After a few hours, Dan is shocked to see a machine appear out of thin air, where two men appear to steal the art. Dan believes this is a time machine, but Kelly suddenly arrives and threatens to arrest Dan, believing he is part of an inside job. Dan attempts to escape with the carrier, and after a few detours, he ends up in the office of a large man named Blote. He asks Blote about the carrier, implying that it is a time machine, but Blote demands that Dan supply him with a time machine, as his people have never seen one. Dan leads Blote back to the Snithian office, where Manny and Fiorello see him, but he manages to escape once again. Then, Dan hears a siren as the carrier hurdles through the air, and he is met by a man who says he is from the Inter-dimensional Monitor Service. "}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "0908baab3d9e4c83a9be168b643c07d6", "response_text": "Dan has heard about painting being stolen from locked vaults and he has some guesses, which he wants to confirm. So he gets a job as a vault guard for cheap at Snithian's vault, where the collection is read and must attract the thieves. He faces two men exiting from a framework and believes them to come in a time-machine from the future. He asks to join them and as they don't have space for him, he attacks them and leaves alone. The plan goes wrong when Dan can't figure out how to control the machine and finds himself in a house full of people, He moves from one room to another trying not to be seen. Eventually, the carrier takes him to Blote's office who is a weirdly looking creature and who makes Dan scared. Dan is in danger and has to bluff, as Blote wants him to get a time-machine. So, the two enter an office where Dan leaves Blote behind and escapes the guard. On the way, he hears loud siren-like noise and stepson a park, where he meets another creature reminding Blote. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "606a6489aa824107a87203bd52f29b0b", "response_text": "Throughout the story, Dan goes to a variety of places via the carrier. He is initially hired as a guard, but he eventually escapes with the carrier. He is able to outsmart Manny and Fiorello, taking the carrier and going to a variety of rooms nearby. After, the carrier takes him to Blote, who then demands him to go retrieve a small time machine for further analysis. Not trusting that Dan won’t escape on his own, Blote decides to go with him to see the time machines himself. Dan is once again traveling on the carrier by himself when he leaves Blote behind with the other two men who have come back for revenge. Then, he has an encounter with Dzhackoon, who sounds the alarm that causes him to land the carrier once again."}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "67b2102064a84a55a17285dc33d447ba", "response_text": "The story begins with Dan trying to convince a wealthy man to hire him onto the security detail for his valuable art collection. Dan has heard that valuable art has been stolen and he has his suspicions as to how. He does get hired by the head of security, Kelly, to live in the vault to guard it against potential thieves. Dan’s predictions are somewhat accurate as two men do suddenly appear in the vault to steal the art. He then proceeds to try to convince them to take him with them as he believes that it is a time machine they are using to complete their heists. Kelly overhears this through the microphones he had installed in the vault and tells Dan that when he gets inside he will be punished. Dan becomes frantic and in a tussle with the two art thieves, Manny and Fiorello, he steals their apparatus and activates it to the best of his abilities. The following sequence of events has Dan transported to different locations that cause more confusion. The owner of the apparatus, or the carrier, does not confirm Dan’s suspicion that it is a time machine and even seems confused by the question. Dan continues to travel to unknown locations without a clear way of returning to his proper location. "}]}, {"question_text": "What equipment is used in the story?", "question_number": 5, "responses": [{"worker_id": "101", "uid": "5dd4584b64cd4013a05f1a25d0fb5c3b", "response_text": "The main piece of equipment used in the story is the carrier that Manny and Fiorello arrive in. The carrier contains lots of different levers and controls that make it difficult to navigate. It is able to appear out of thin air, a cage-like structure that has a blue luminous glow to it. Despite the futuristic abilities of the carrier, it is made up of common parts and is not the sturdiest. The carrier is able to appear in random places, but it is also used by Blote to travel to Maple Street."}, {"worker_id": "105", "uid": "0908baab3d9e4c83a9be168b643c07d6", "response_text": "The vault is locked and guarded by armed people, Dan himself is supplied with a pistol. The two men appear in a glowing framework in the air, which Dan believes to be a time machine. Indeed, it's an inter-dimensional carrier which can travel rapidly through walls but not through time. It's equipped with multiple levers and controls, which are hard to figure. Siren-like sound is used by inter-dimensional Monitor Service to make the carriers stop. "}, {"worker_id": "107", "uid": "606a6489aa824107a87203bd52f29b0b", "response_text": "The carrier is the main piece of equipment used throughout the story. It is capable of taking its passengers to a variety of different places by using specific controls and can pass through walls undetected. It is how the art thieves were capable of stealing many pieces of art, despite the vaults often being heavily guarded or sealed. Another piece of equipment is the pistol that Dan points at Manny. It is supplied by Kelly, and Dan does not fire it but uses it to threaten the other man into staying so he can go aboard the carrier. Another piece of equipment used is the siren that Dzhackoon sounds. It sounds like a typical police siren, but nobody else hears it except for Dan. "}, {"worker_id": "104", "uid": "67b2102064a84a55a17285dc33d447ba", "response_text": "The main equipment that is used in the story is a travel apparatus that is used by Manny and Fiorello to get into the vault to steal valuable artwork. Dan believes it to be a time machine. He takes the apparatus from the two thieves and uses it to go to a different location where he meets Blote, the two thieves’ boss. While on his journey, he figures out how to use the different levels on the machine to control the direction of travel. When he implies to Blote that it is a time machine, Blote is confused and shows that he does not know of the existence of a time machine. Blote calls the travel apparatus a carrier.  "}]}]}