Semanticate

src/epub/text/cost-of-living.xhtml

@@ -34,49 +34,49 @@
 			<p>“All right, that’s enough.” He allowed the <abbr epub:type="z3998:initialism">A.E.</abbr> Auto-dresser to dress him, skillfully draping a new selection of fabrics over his bony frame. A whiff of fashionable masculine perfume finished him and he went into the living room, threading his way between the appliances that lined the walls.</p>
 			<p>A quick inspection of the dials on the wall assured him that the house was in order. The breakfast dishes had been sanitized and stacked, the house had been cleaned, dusted, polished, his wife’s garments had been hung up, his son’s model rocket ships had been put back in the closet.</p>
 			<p>Stop worrying, you hypochondriac, he told himself angrily.</p>
-			<p>The door announced, “<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Pathis from Avignon Finance is here.”</p>
+			<p>The door announced, “<abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Pathis from Avignon Finance is here.”</p>
 			<p>Carrin started to tell the door to open, when he noticed the Automatic Bartender.</p>
 			<p>Good God, why hadn’t he thought of it!</p>
 			<p>The Automatic Bartender was manufactured by Castile Motors. He had bought it in a weak moment. <abbr epub:type="z3998:initialism">A.E.</abbr> wouldn’t think very highly of that, since they sold their own brand.</p>
 			<hr/>
 			<p>He wheeled the bartender into the kitchen, and told the door to open.</p>
-			<p>“A very good day to you, sir,” <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Pathis said.</p>
+			<p>“A very good day to you, sir,” <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Pathis said.</p>
 			<p>Pathis was a tall, imposing man, dressed in a conservative tweed drape. His eyes had the crinkled corners of a man who laughs frequently. He beamed broadly and shook Carrin’s hand, looking around the crowded living room.</p>
 			<p>“A beautiful place you have here, sir. Beautiful! As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ll be overstepping the company’s code to inform you that yours is the nicest interior in this section.”</p>
 			<p>Carrin felt a sudden glow of pride at that, thinking of the rows of identical houses, on this block and the next, and the one after that.</p>
-			<p>“Now, then, is everything functioning properly?” <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Pathis asked, setting his briefcase on a chair. “Everything in order?”</p>
+			<p>“Now, then, is everything functioning properly?” <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Pathis asked, setting his briefcase on a chair. “Everything in order?”</p>
 			<p>“Oh, yes,” Carrin said enthusiastically. “Avignon Electric never goes out of whack.”</p>
 			<p>“The phone all right? Changes records for the full seventeen hours?”</p>
 			<p>“It certainly does,” Carrin said. He hadn’t had a chance to try out the phone, but it was a beautiful piece of furniture.</p>
 			<p>“The Solido-projector all right? Enjoying the programs?”</p>
 			<p>“Absolutely perfect reception.” He had watched a program just last month, and it had been startlingly lifelike.</p>
 			<p>“How about the kitchen? Auto-cook in order? Recipe-master still knocking ’em out?”</p>
 			<p>“Marvelous stuff. Simply marvelous.”</p>
-			<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Pathis went on to inquire about his refrigerator, his vacuum cleaner, his car, his helicopter, his subterranean swimming pool, and the hundreds of other items Carrin had bought from Avignon Electric.</p>
+			<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Pathis went on to inquire about his refrigerator, his vacuum cleaner, his car, his helicopter, his subterranean swimming pool, and the hundreds of other items Carrin had bought from Avignon Electric.</p>
 			<p>“Everything is swell,” Carrin said, a trifle untruthfully since he hadn’t unpacked every item yet. “Just wonderful.”</p>
-			<p>“I’m so glad,” <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Pathis said, leaning back with a sigh of relief. “You have no idea how hard we try to satisfy our customers. If a product isn’t right, back it comes, no questions asked. We believe in pleasing our customers.”</p>
-			<p>“I certainly appreciate it, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Pathis.”</p>
+			<p>“I’m so glad,” <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Pathis said, leaning back with a sigh of relief. “You have no idea how hard we try to satisfy our customers. If a product isn’t right, back it comes, no questions asked. We believe in pleasing our customers.”</p>
+			<p>“I certainly appreciate it, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Pathis.”</p>
 			<hr/>
 			<p>Carrin hoped the <abbr epub:type="z3998:initialism">A.E.</abbr> man wouldn’t ask to see the kitchen. He visualized the Castile Motors Bartender in there, like a porcupine in a dog show.</p>
-			<p>“I’m proud to say that most of the people in this neighborhood buy from us,” <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Pathis was saying. “We’re a solid firm.”</p>
-			<p>“Was <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Miller a customer of yours?” Carrin asked.</p>
+			<p>“I’m proud to say that most of the people in this neighborhood buy from us,” <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Pathis was saying. “We’re a solid firm.”</p>
+			<p>“Was <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Miller a customer of yours?” Carrin asked.</p>
 			<p>“That fellow who killed himself?” Pathis frowned briefly. “He was, as a matter of fact. That amazed me, sir, absolutely amazed me. Why, just last month the fellow bought a brand-new Jet-lash from me, capable of doing three hundred and fifty miles an hour on a straightaway. He was as happy as a kid over it, and then to go and do a thing like that! Of course, the Jet-lash brought up his debt a little.”</p>
 			<p>“Of course.”</p>
 			<p>“But what did that matter? He had every luxury in the world. And then he went and hung himself.”</p>
 			<p>“Hung himself?”</p>
 			<p>“Yes,” Pathis said, the frown coming back. “Every modern convenience in his house, and he hung himself with a piece of rope. Probably unbalanced for a long time.”</p>
 			<p>The frown slid off his face, and the customary smile replaced it. “But enough of that! Let’s talk about you.”</p>
-			<p>The smile widened as Pathis opened his briefcase. “Now, then, your account. You owe us two hundred and three thousand dollars and twenty-nine cents, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Carrin, as of your last purchase. Right?”</p>
+			<p>The smile widened as Pathis opened his briefcase. “Now, then, your account. You owe us two hundred and three thousand dollars and twenty-nine cents, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Carrin, as of your last purchase. Right?”</p>
 			<p>“Right,” Carrin said, remembering the amount from his own papers. “Here’s my installment.”</p>
 			<p>He handed Pathis an envelope, which the man checked and put in his pocket.</p>
-			<p>“Fine. Now you know, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Carrin, that you won’t live long enough to pay us the full two hundred thousand, don’t you?”</p>
+			<p>“Fine. Now you know, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Carrin, that you won’t live long enough to pay us the full two hundred thousand, don’t you?”</p>
 			<p>“No, I don’t suppose I will,” Carrin said soberly.</p>
 			<p>He was only thirty-nine, with a full hundred years of life before him, thanks to the marvels of medical science. But at a salary of three thousand a year, he still couldn’t pay it all off and have enough to support a family on at the same time.</p>
 			<p>“Of course, we would not want to deprive you of necessities, which in any case is fully protected by the laws we helped formulate and pass. To say nothing of the terrific items that are coming out next year. Things you wouldn’t want to miss, sir!”</p>
-			<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Carrin nodded. Certainly he wanted new items.</p>
+			<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Carrin nodded. Certainly he wanted new items.</p>
 			<p>“Well, suppose we make the customary arrangement. If you will just sign over your son’s earnings for the first thirty years of his adult life, we can easily arrange credit for you.”</p>
 			<hr/>
-			<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Pathis whipped the papers out of his briefcase and spread them in front of Carrin.</p>
+			<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Pathis whipped the papers out of his briefcase and spread them in front of Carrin.</p>
 			<p>“If you’ll just sign here, sir.”</p>
 			<p>“Well,” Carrin said, “I’m not sure. I’d like to give the boy a start in life, not saddle him with⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“But my dear sir,” Pathis interposed, “this is for your son as well. He lives here, doesn’t he? He has a right to enjoy the luxuries, the marvels of science.”</p>
@@ -110,7 +110,7 @@
 			<p>“What’sa matter, Son?” The boy stared at his feet, not answering. “Come on, tell Dad what’s the trouble.”</p>
 			<p>Billy sat down on a packing case and put his chin in his hands. He looked thoughtfully at his father.</p>
 			<p>“Dad, could I be a Master Repairman if I wanted to be?”</p>
-			<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Carrin smiled at the question. Billy alternated between wanting to be a Master Repairman and a rocket pilot. The repairmen were the elite. It was their job to fix the automatic repair machines. The repair machines could fix just about anything, but you couldn’t have a machine fix the machine that fixed the machine. That was where the Master Repairmen came in.</p>
+			<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Carrin smiled at the question. Billy alternated between wanting to be a Master Repairman and a rocket pilot. The repairmen were the elite. It was their job to fix the automatic repair machines. The repair machines could fix just about anything, but you couldn’t have a machine fix the machine that fixed the machine. That was where the Master Repairmen came in.</p>
 			<p>But it was a highly competitive field and only a very few of the best brains were able to get their degrees. And, although the boy was bright, he didn’t seem to have an engineering bent.</p>
 			<p>“It’s possible, Son. Anything is possible.”</p>
 			<p>“But is it possible for me?”</p>
@@ -151,7 +151,7 @@
 			<p>“Just forget I mentioned it,” Billy said, smiling stiffly. He stood up and raced upstairs.</p>
 			<p>“Probably gone to play with his rockets,” Leela said. “He’s such a little devil.”</p>
 			<hr/>
-			<p>The Carrins ate a quiet supper, and then it was time for <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Carrin to go to work. He was on night shift this month. He kissed his wife goodbye, climbed into his Jet-lash and roared to the factory. The automatic gates recognized him and opened. He parked and walked in.</p>
+			<p>The Carrins ate a quiet supper, and then it was time for <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Carrin to go to work. He was on night shift this month. He kissed his wife goodbye, climbed into his Jet-lash and roared to the factory. The automatic gates recognized him and opened. He parked and walked in.</p>
 			<p>Automatic lathes, automatic presses⁠—everything was automatic. The factory was huge and bright, and the machines hummed softly to themselves, doing their job and doing it well.</p>
 			<p>Carrin walked to the end of the automatic washing machine assembly line, to relieve the man there.</p>
 			<p>“Everything all right?” he asked.</p>

src/epub/text/death-wish.xhtml

@@ -8,18 +8,18 @@
 	<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
 		<article id="death-wish" epub:type="se:short-story">
 			<h2 epub:type="title">Death Wish</h2>
-			<p>The space freighter <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">Queen Dierdre</i> was a great, squat, pockmarked vessel of the Earth-Mars run and she never gave anyone a bit of trouble. That should have been sufficient warning to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Watkins, her engineer. Watkins was fond of saying that there are two kinds of equipment⁠—the kind that fails bit by bit, and the kind that fails all at once.</p>
+			<p>The space freighter <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">Queen Dierdre</i> was a great, squat, pockmarked vessel of the Earth-Mars run and she never gave anyone a bit of trouble. That should have been sufficient warning to <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Watkins, her engineer. Watkins was fond of saying that there are two kinds of equipment⁠—the kind that fails bit by bit, and the kind that fails all at once.</p>
 			<p>Watkins was short and red-faced, magnificently mustached, and always a little out of breath. With a cigar in his hand, over a glass of beer, he talked most cynically about his ship, in the immemorial fashion of engineers. But in reality, Watkins was foolishly infatuated with <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">Dierdre</i>, idealized her, humanized her, and couldn’t conceive of anything serious ever happening.</p>
-			<p>On this particular run, <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">Dierdre</i> soared away from Terra at the proper speed; <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Watkins signaled that fuel was being consumed at the proper rate; and Captain Somers cut the engines at the proper moment indicated by <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Rajcik, the navigator.</p>
+			<p>On this particular run, <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">Dierdre</i> soared away from Terra at the proper speed; <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Watkins signaled that fuel was being consumed at the proper rate; and Captain Somers cut the engines at the proper moment indicated by <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Rajcik, the navigator.</p>
 			<p>As soon as Point Able had been reached and the engines stopped, Somers frowned and studied his complex control board. He was a thin and meticulous man, and he operated his ship with mechanical perfection. He was well liked in the front offices of Mikkelsen Space Lines, where Old Man Mikkelsen pointed to Captain Somers’ reports as models of neatness and efficiency. On Mars, he stayed at the Officers’ Club, eschewing the stews and dives of Marsport. On Earth, he lived in a little Vermont cottage and enjoyed the quiet companionship of two cats, a Japanese houseboy, and a wife.</p>
 			<hr/>
 			<p>His instructions read true. And yet he sensed something wrong. Somers knew every creak, rattle and groan that <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">Dierdre</i> was capable of making. During blastoff, he had heard something <em>different</em>. In space, something different had to be wrong.</p>
-			<p>“<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Rajcik,” he said, turning to his navigator, “would you check the cargo? I believe something may have shifted.”</p>
+			<p>“<abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Rajcik,” he said, turning to his navigator, “would you check the cargo? I believe something may have shifted.”</p>
 			<p>“You bet,” Rajcik said cheerfully. He was an almost offensively handsome young man with black wavy hair, blasé blue eyes and a cleft chin. Despite his appearance, Rajcik was thoroughly qualified for his position. But he was only one of fifty thousand thoroughly qualified men who lusted for a berth on one of the fourteen spaceships in existence. Only Stephen Rajcik had had the foresight, appearance and fortitude to court and wed Helga, Old Man Mikkelsen’s eldest daughter.</p>
 			<p>Rajcik went aft to the cargo hold. <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">Dierdre</i> was carrying transistors this time, and microfilm books, platinum filaments, salamis, and other items that could not as yet be produced on Mars. But the bulk of her space was taken by the immense Fahrensen Computer.</p>
 			<p>Rajcik checked the positioning lines on the monster, examined the stays and turnbuckles that held it in place, and returned to the cabin.</p>
 			<p>“All in order, Boss,” he reported to Captain Somers, with the smile that only an employer’s son-in-law can both manage and afford.</p>
-			<p>“<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Watkins, do you read anything?”</p>
+			<p>“<abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Watkins, do you read anything?”</p>
 			<p>Watkins was at his own instrument panel. “Not a thing, sir. I’ll vouch for every bit of equipment in <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">Dierdre</i>.”</p>
 			<p>“Very well. How long before we reach Point Baker?”</p>
 			<p>“Three minutes, Chief,” Rajcik said.</p>
@@ -62,7 +62,7 @@
 			<p>Watkins, his face a mottled red, his mustache bristling, looked like a walrus about to charge. And Rajcik, eyes glittering, was waiting hopefully.</p>
 			<p>“No more of this,” Somers said. “I give the orders here.”</p>
 			<p>“Then give some!” Watkins snapped. “Tell him to plot a return curve. This is life or death!”</p>
-			<p>“All the more reason for remaining cool. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Rajcik, can you plot such a course?”</p>
+			<p>“All the more reason for remaining cool. <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Rajcik, can you plot such a course?”</p>
 			<p>“First thing I tried,” Rajcik said. “Not a chance, on the fuel we have left. We can turn a degree or two, but it won’t help.”</p>
 			<p>Watkins said, “Of course it will! We’ll curve back into the Solar System!”</p>
 			<p>“Sure, but the best curve we can make will take a few thousand years for us to complete.”</p>
@@ -82,7 +82,7 @@
 			<p>“Of course I can,” Somers objected, feeling very lightheaded and unreal. “I can pilot any course you lay down. That’s my only real responsibility. Plot us a course to Mars!”</p>
 			<p>“Sure!” Rajcik said, laughing. “I can! I will! Engineer, I’m going to need plenty of fuel for this course⁠—about ten tons! See that I get it!”</p>
 			<p>“Right you are,” said Watkins. “Captain, I’d like to put in a requisition for ten tons of fuel.”</p>
-			<p>“Requisition granted,” Somers said. “All right, gentlemen, responsibility is inevitably circular. Let’s get a grip on ourselves. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Rajcik, suppose you radio Mars.”</p>
+			<p>“Requisition granted,” Somers said. “All right, gentlemen, responsibility is inevitably circular. Let’s get a grip on ourselves. <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Rajcik, suppose you radio Mars.”</p>
 			<p>When contact had been established, Somers took the microphone and stated their situation. The company official at the other end seemed to have trouble grasping it.</p>
 			<p>“But can’t you turn the ship?” he asked bewilderedly. “Any kind of an orbit⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“No. I’ve just explained that.”</p>
@@ -114,7 +114,7 @@
 			<p>“That’s ridiculous,” Watkins snorted. “This problem has no solution.”</p>
 			<p>“It doesn’t seem to,” Somers agreed. “But the big computers have solved other apparently impossible problems. We can’t lose anything by trying.”</p>
 			<p>“No,” said Rajcik, “as long as we don’t pin any hopes on it.”</p>
-			<p>“That’s right. We don’t dare hope. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Watkins, I believe this is your department.”</p>
+			<p>“That’s right. We don’t dare hope. <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Watkins, I believe this is your department.”</p>
 			<p>“Oh, what’s the use?” Watkins asked. “You say don’t hope⁠—but both of you are hoping anyhow! You think the big electronic god is going to save your lives. Well, it’s not!”</p>
 			<p>“We have to try,” Somers told him.</p>
 			<p>“We don’t! I wouldn’t give it the satisfaction of turning us down!”</p>