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 		<dc:source>https://archive.org/details/StartlingStoriesV10n031944SpringufikusDPP</dc:source>
 		<dc:source>https://archive.org/details/Startling_Stories_v09n03_1943-06_unz.org</dc:source>
 		<dc:source>https://archive.org/details/martianodysseyot00wein</dc:source>
-		<meta property="se:word-count">48348</meta>
+		<meta property="se:word-count">48352</meta>
 		<meta property="se:reading-ease.flesch">74.39</meta>
 		<meta property="se:url.encyclopedia.wikipedia">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Martian_Odyssey</meta>
 		<meta property="se:url.encyclopedia.wikipedia">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valley_of_Dreams</meta>

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@@ -25,7 +25,7 @@
 			<p>“Indeed,” resumed the Professor, “Roger Bacon might almost be called a thirteenth century van Manderpootz, or van Manderpootz a twenty-first century Roger Bacon. His <i xml:lang="la">Opus Majus</i>, <i xml:lang="la">Opus Minus</i>, and <i xml:lang="la">Opus Tertium</i>⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“What,” I interrupted impatiently, “has all this to do with⁠—that?” I indicated the clumsy metal robot standing in the corner of the laboratory.</p>
 			<p>“Don’t interrupt!” snapped van Manderpootz. “I’ll⁠—”</p>
-			<p>At this point I fell out of my chair. The mass of metal had ejaculated something like “<i>A-a-gh-rasp</i>” and had lunged a single pace toward the window, arms upraised. “What the devil!” I sputtered as the thing dropped its arms and returned stolidly to its place.</p>
+			<p>At this point I fell out of my chair. The mass of metal had ejaculated something like “<i>A‑a‑gh‑rasp</i>” and had lunged a single pace toward the window, arms upraised. “What the devil!” I sputtered as the thing dropped its arms and returned stolidly to its place.</p>
 			<p>“A car must have passed in the alley,” said van Manderpootz indifferently. “Now as I was saying, Roger Bacon⁠—”</p>
 			<p>I ceased to listen. When van Manderpootz is determined to finish a statement, interruptions are worse than futile. As an ex-student of his, I know. So I permitted my thoughts to drift to certain personal problems of my own, particularly Tips Alva, who was the most pressing problem of the moment. Yes, I mean Tips Alva the ’vision dancer, the little blonde imp who entertains on the <i epub:type="se:name.broadcast.television-show">Yerba Mate Hour</i> for that Brazilian company. Chorus girls, dancers, and television stars are a weakness of mine; maybe it indicates that there’s a latent artistic soul in me. Maybe.</p>
 			<p>I’m Dixon Wells, you know, scion of the <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">N. J.</abbr> Wells Corporation, Engineers Extraordinary. I’m supposed to be an engineer myself; I say supposed, because in the seven years since my graduation, my father hasn’t given me much opportunity to prove it. He has a strong sense of value of time, and I’m cursed with the unenviable quality of being late to anything and for everything. He even asserts that the occasional designs I submit are late Jacobean, but that isn’t fair. They’re Post-Romanesque.</p>
@@ -40,7 +40,7 @@
 			<p>“It’s just a toy I had some of the students construct,” he explained. “There’s a screen of photoelectric cells behind the right eye, so connected that when a certain pattern is thrown on them, it activates the mechanism. The thing’s plugged into the light-circuit, but it really ought to run on gasoline.”</p>
 			<p>“Why?”</p>
 			<p>“Well, the pattern it’s set for is the shape of an automobile. See here.” He picked up a card from his desk, and cut in the outlines of a streamlined car like those of that year. “Since only one eye is used,” he continued, “The thing can’t tell the difference between a full-sized vehicle at a distance and this small outline nearby. It has no sense of perspective.”</p>
-			<p>He held the bit of cardboard before the eye of the mechanism. Instantly came its roar of “<i>A-a-gh-rasp!</i>” and it leaped forward a single pace, arms upraised. Van Manderpootz withdrew the card, and again the thing relapsed stolidly into its place.</p>
+			<p>He held the bit of cardboard before the eye of the mechanism. Instantly came its roar of “<i>A‑a‑gh‑rasp!</i>” and it leaped forward a single pace, arms upraised. Van Manderpootz withdrew the card, and again the thing relapsed stolidly into its place.</p>
 			<p>“What the devil!” I exclaimed. “What’s it for?”</p>
 			<p>“Does van Manderpootz ever do work without reason back of it? I use it as a demonstration in my seminar.”</p>
 			<p>“To demonstrate what?”</p>