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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..951cc5f --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66646 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66646) diff --git a/old/66646-0.txt b/old/66646-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4d49e00..0000000 --- a/old/66646-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2719 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Es Percipi, by Milton Lesser - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Es Percipi - -Author: Milton Lesser - -Release Date: November 1, 2021 [eBook #66646] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ES PERCIPI *** - - - - - Es Percipi - - By Stephen Marlowe - - Diplomatic relations became strained when - the Targoffian Ambassador started selling miracle - products on Earth. Products that didn't exist!... - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy - October 1955 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Nicholson ducked into the room and squinted myopically through contact -lenses which made his eyes look watery and far away. "Better scram out -the back way, boss," he said. "That dame from the Department of Health -and Public Welfare is here again." - -Bryan Channing allowed himself ten seconds of barely audible swearing. -Finally, he said, "What does she expect me to do, snap my fingers and -make the Ambassador from Targoff disappear?" - -"It would be nice," Nicholson admitted. - -"Unfortunately," Bryan Channing said for the fifth time that day, "our -hands are tied. Sure, Earth can get along without Targoff. The galaxy -would hardly know the difference if sub-space opened up a world-sized -pocket tomorrow and swallowed Targoff and its sun." - -"But," said Nicholson. - -"Yes, but, I'll have to see the old battle-ax sooner or later, Nick. On -your way out you might as well tell Julie to send her in." - -"Oh, am I leaving?" - -"You get the idea," said Bryan Channing. "You discovered Targoff, then -dumped it in my lap. One of these days you better find us a planet -which will make Health and P. W. happy. Now, beat it." - -A moment after Nicholson had departed, the under-secretary of Health -and Public Welfare opened the door with a well-manicured hand and -followed it into Bryan Channing's office, which looked out on the East -River and the dismantling job being done on the Queensboro Bridge -through a solid wall of thermoglass. - -"I don't smoke and I don't drink on duty," she said primly after Bryan -Channing had made the necessary gestures and offerings. "There were -twenty-two thousand divorces in the New York Metropolitan Area alone -last week, Mr. Channing. I have figures for other locations, if you -wish." - -"Just let my secretary have them on your way out." - -"Very well." - -"Incidentally, I don't want to tell you your business, but the figure -doesn't seem so alarmingly high." - -"Perhaps. How would fifty thousand sound--for the first half of this -week?" - -"High," said Bryan Channing. "Go ahead." - -"Deaths from malnutrition and disease continue at an even more alarming -rate. These figures--" And the under-secretary began to remove a sheaf -of papers from her briefcase. - -"My secretary," Bryan Channing said again. "Can you pin these things -directly on Qui Dor?" - -"Qui Dor?" - -"The Targoffian Ambassador." - -"I can only go by his advertisements and what our field workers report -after interviews. Qui Dor or whatever his name is, is to blame, it -appears. Tell me, Mr. Channing, is it quite regular for a planetary -Ambassador to--well, to go into business like that?" - -"Yes and no," Bryan Channing told her, launching himself on his -favorite subject. "We don't make the laws, m'am. Fifty different -planetary cultures nurtured on fifty different sets of laws with a -heritage as rich as our own Roman one--you don't merely stamp out all -the existing laws and arbitrarily distribute a new code. All you can do -is hope that in some fields at least there is a common meeting point -for the planets." - -"You've failed to answer my question." - -"Sorry. The Lurane Ambassadors are primarily businessmen, out to make a -buck for their planet, as the expression goes. The Specixes Ambassador -is a glorified emcee trooping around with a bunch of acrobats, dancers -and singers. There are no laws which would prohibit Qui Dor--" - -"But he's threatening our entire way of life!" cried the -under-secretary, no longer prim and diplomatically correct. - -"Aren't you exaggerating the situation, m'am?" he asked politely. He -wanted to say she was making a mountain not out of a mole hill but a -pimple. He wanted to say a lot of things but never did, and realized -that was one of the reasons ulcers ran so high in the Department -of State. He would settle for some chianti, antipasto and chicken -cacciatore with Ellen in their favorite Italian restaurant, but first -he had to placate the emissary from Health and P. W. and keep Nicholson -happy at the same time. It hardly seemed possible, for if he knew -Nick, the myopic explorer-with-portfolio was eavesdropping on their -conversation through the office intercom. - -"You think it isn't serious, if our standard of living is threatened -by--" - -"Let's look at it another way. I mean, it's just not our problem. -That's an internal problem for the Department of Health and Public -Welfare to solve, m'am." - -"You can tell the Targoffian Ambassador to get the hell off our planet. -Excuse me." - - * * * * * - -Channing shook his head. "Even if I agreed with you, I couldn't do -that. Wouldn't that be perfect grist for the propaganda mills on Sirius -and Centauri, not to mention Deneb? Big Brother Earth goes around using -all the little planets. Humans break off diplomatic relations with -cultures which don't adhere to Earth standards--unless, of course, we -could milk something out of them." - -"You know that isn't true." - -"I'm not standing in judgment on it. I'm merely saying how they would -interpret it on Centauri and Sirius. Not to mention Deneb." - -It was Channing's trump card. You didn't argue when someone mentioned -Deneb like that. Deneb was the _ne plus ultra_ of dangerous -interplanetary relations. If something were white on Earth, it was -black on Deneb. Unfortunately, Channing knew, there was at least as -much truth as fancy in what he said. - -"How do the Denebians deal with Targoff?" the under-secretary demanded. - -Channing lit his pipe and knew he was in for trouble. "They don't," -he said. "Diplomatic relations are not maintained between Deneb and -Targoff." - -"May I ask you why not? You see, Deneb can get away with it, but we--" - -"I'm surprised at you," Channing cut her off. "Earth can't sink to the -Denebian level. We've got to set the example. We've got to be a shining -light, a beacon, a...." - -"Those speeches sound fine on television," the under-secretary said, -"but I wasn't born yesterday, Mr. Channing. What are you going to do -about this situation?" - -"Nothing right now. The Secretary of State wants to let matters ride -for the time being. The President...." - -"I'm going to see the President, you know." - -"Maybe it's best," Channing admitted. He was a thirty thousand dollar -a year trouble-shooter for the Department of State, running smack-dab -into a brick wall. - -"You'll hear from me," warned the under-secretary. "You'll hear from -the President. This is deplorable." - -"Yes, m'am," said Channing, showing her to the door. - -Half an hour later, Channing had wilted his whiskers with depilatory, -staring all the while at his moody face with the slightly sagging jowls -in a desk mirror and wishing he were in some other line of work. The -achesonian epithet, it seemed, applied to State Department officials -above the level of clerk who had the misfortune of dealing with touchy -issues. If Health and P. W.'s Girl Friday had her way, Channing -suspected, he would be an ogre by morning. - - * * * * * - -"Don't go near the living room," Ellen called from somewhere on the -bedroom level of the house, "it's still wet. The maid quit, dear." - -"Quit?" Channing hollered back. "What on Earth for?" He settled himself -on a web-chair in the study, poured a martini from the decanter Ellen -had prepared, and began to thumb through the impressive compilation of -figures the under-secretary had left with Julie. - -"She's getting married." - -"What?" Channing gasped. "Fanny getting married? I don't believe it." - -"Honest," said Ellen, entering the room. She was a little pretty -woman, dressed in tight black torrero slacks and a fuzzy crimson -sweater which Channing thought came from one of the Centauri planets. -She was twenty-eight, half a dozen years younger than Channing, with -short-cropped chestnut hair and the dimpled smile and attractive legs -which aided and abetted a diplomat's career. She knew it and in the -best modern fashion they made good use of it. - -Ellen sipped from Channing's cocktail glass, poured another for each of -them, pecked at his cheek with carmined lips and settled comfortably in -his lap. "You see," she said, not looking at him, "someone from Qui Dor -enterprises visited us on Monday." - -"So now Fanny's getting married. I'll be damned. Say, you didn't take -anything from them, did you?" - -"You mean like a husband? No-o." - -"I mean like anything. And stop kidding." - -"Well, yes, I did. Everybody's trying it, dear. I had to. I didn't want -to feel--left out." - -Channing climbed to his feet, almost dumping his pretty wife on the -floor. "All right," he said. "You tell me what you bought." - -"You won't be mad?" - -"I'm not saying." - -"Then I won't tell you." - -"Ellen--" - -"Promise?" - -"O.K. I promise." - -Ellen skipped away from him toward the dining room. "Then come on -inside and I'll show you." - - * * * * * - -Afterwards, he could have sworn that Ellen did no cooking. She merely -reached into a cabinet adjacent to the electric range, (must get a -radar range one of these days, he thought, especially with no more -Fanny around and the servant situation being what it was) and came -out with the platters, piping hot. "Hey," he'd said between mouthfuls -of savory white meat which tasted like a rare Centaurian fowl he had -eaten in that interplanetary restaurant on East 48th once, "this is -all right." The dessert was Sirius, and brother, what they could do -with those whipped toppings. And to finish it all off with the proper -pleasant glow, Ellen had even managed to find a bottle of good old -French brandy which must have been corked when Napoleon was a boy. - -"The devil with Fanny," Channing declared, loosening his belt a notch. -"I've got myself quite a cook. Say, if you don't want to tell me about -that Qui Dor thing, honey...." - -"Ha!" Ellen laughed triumphantly. "If that isn't just like a man. Give -him something good to eat and he'll be licking the palm of your hand. -But I said I'd show you. I already have." - -"Huh?" - -"You've eaten it. That's what the Qui Dor people sold me, that food -cabinet. How to keep a husband, they said. You see, no one can cook -that well, not in such variety. Mad at me, dear?" - -"No," Channing admitted. "It was delicious, every bit of it." But he -patted his slight paunch reflectively. "Sometimes food can be too good, -though." - -"Listen, big eyes. Qui Dor's food cabinet was made for guys like you. -Are you full?" - -"Lord, yes." - -"There wasn't a single calorie in what you ate. Nor any vitamins, -minerals or--" - -"I've heard of that," Channing said incredulously. "But, but I've -eaten. I know I have. I tasted it, all of it. I felt it going down. I -feel full now. I couldn't eat another thing." - -"I can't explain that, dear. You know the Targoffian Ambassador -personally. Perhaps he can." - -"But if there was no food value in any of that stuff, we still haven't -eaten dinner." - -"You're supposed to eat concentrates first, dear. I just wanted to -surprise you, that's all. Well, how do you like it?" - -"I want it out of this house tomorrow," said Channing, raising his -voice. - -"You don't have to holler at me." - -"I'm sorry. But that cabinet goes." - -"Why? Give me one good reason." - -"Because--because it isn't natural. That's why. Not natural." - -"And you're supposed to be the broad-minded whiz-kid of the State -Department." - -"I'm no kid any more." - -"Well, that's what they called you. It never hurt anybody on Targoff, -did it? This kind of thing?" - -"I wouldn't know. I've never been there." - -"What did Nicky say?" - -"He said Targoff looks like the richest planet he's ever seen, but -is really the poorest. He said they have nothing and seem to have -everything. He said they don't admit it, though. As far as the -Targoffians are concerned, they do have everything." - -"Well, do they or don't they?" - -"It depends on your point of view," Channing said. "Objectively, they -have nothing. Subjectively, they have everything. Point is, the stuff -isn't real." - -"What do you mean, it isn't real?" - -"Say, has Qui Dor or someone been lecturing you? You're really going -off on the deep end about this Targoffian business, aren't you?" - -"Not Qui Dor, an Earthman, Viennese, I think, working for him. You -haven't answered me, dear. I said, what do you mean it isn't real?" - -"Well, it--it doesn't exist. It's all in the mind, in the imagination." - -"You just ate it. When you looked at it, the food was there. You could -smell it and taste it and touch it--if it was hot it burned your hand, -Bryan--and you had to chew it and swallow it. If you ate too fast it -might even give you an upset stomach." - -"But it wasn't real," Channing protested. - -"Then what is real? Look at me." - -"Um, pretty," said Channing. - -"Stop that. Stop trying to change the subject. It's all well and good -for you to talk about these things in the office, but you never want to -talk about them with me. Touch me. Go on, touch me." - - * * * * * - -Feeling mildly ridiculous, Channing placed his big hand on the fuzzy -red material covering his wife's shoulder. "So what does that prove?" -he said. - -"Stand up. Turn around." - -He stood up, pushing the chair back. He turned around, facing the -entrance to the living room. - -"Where am I?" - -"Where are you? Right behind me, of course. Sitting down at the table." - -"How do you know?" - -"I--I just know." - -"Are you sure? Can you be sure?" - -"I just saw you there, damnit!" - -"But you don't see me here now, unless you have eyes in the back of -your head, dear. How do you know I'm still here, unless you see me?" - -"Because you didn't get up and go away, that's why. I would have heard -you." - -"How do you know? Maybe I'm only around when you look at me. When you -_perceive_ me, dear. You understand?" - -"No. Yes. I read all about the idealists in college, too. Berkeley, -Hume...." - -"The Qui Dor people say they have the right idea. To be is to be -perceived. As soon as you stop perceiving me--or anything--it no longer -exists. As soon as you see me again, here I am. If you carry it to -extremes, the notion can lead to solipsism, but--" - -"--but," Channing finished for her, "you can thank the good Lord that -Bishop Berkeley was no pagan and saved himself and the rest of us from -that way of thinking. Sure, to be is to be perceived. Maybe nothing -does exist unless it's being perceived, but that's where God comes -in. God is the constant conserver, he said. God is always looking at -everything. So everything always exists." - -"But the Targoffians are atheists, dear," Ellen pointed out with -exasperating logic. "You may turn around now." - -Channing turned around and glared at her. - -"You see, it works. I don't know what you're getting so mad about." - -"Then I'll tell you. What would happen if I went on eating meals like -that for a couple of weeks." - -"You'd lose weight, dear. You'd fit into that bathing suit I bought you -for our third anniversary." - -"I'm serious, damnit." - -"You'd be awful hungry. You'd suffer from malnutrition. But the -concentrates come along with the food cabinet." - -"Forget about the food cabinet. You're going to get rid of it tomorrow. -I want to ask you something else. Who did Fanny marry?" - -"She didn't yet. She's getting married on Saturday, she said." - -"My mistake," growled Channing. Ulcer potential was now following him -home from the office. "Who is she going to marry?" - -"Whom." - -"Yes." - -"Someone sent by the Qui Dor people." - -"Will he be real?" - -"We just went through all that." - -"Will I be able to see him?" - -"Yes." - -"Anybody?" - -"Of course. You see, he's real. Not only that, he'll be the ideal -husband. At least, he'll be Fanny's ideal husband. You have a wide -variety to choose from, they told me. You can even buy one whose -temperament changes to suit yours day by day." - -"There were fifty thousand divorces in New York so far this week," -said Channing, "according to the under-secretary of Health and Public -Welfare. Have you any idea why?" - -"I guess people were shedding their spouses to marry the ideal mate -before the price went up. Is there anything wrong with that?" - -"I think so," Channing said. "I didn't think so before. I told the -under-secretary not to get so upset. But I want you to answer one -question. Will Fanny's husband be able to give her children?" - -"No," Ellen conceded. - -"You get rid of the food cabinet tomorrow." - - * * * * * - -Within a week, the brick wall became a nightmare. Health and Welfare -met with State on the highest level. Health stood firm: something -must be done about the situation. Health's figures were not only -impressive, they were downright frightening. In Buenos Aires, where -Latin tempers flared and, anyway, summer was approaching, one out -of every two recent marriages and one out of three of older vintage -could be expected to end in the divorce courts--if annulment did not -get them first. In Paris, the shrugging French found the answer in -multiple marriage, provided not more than one of the partners was a -bona fide human being. In Russia it became illegal to talk of Qui Dor's -creations: they did not exist. - -State was equally firm: the cause of the situation could not at -this time be removed. Health must find its own internal solution. -The Denebian Ambassador began to pass snide remarks and send home -delightful tidbits of propaganda--was it true that the wife of the -President of United Amereurope had visited the attorney general's -brother-in-law concerning the possibility of divorce? - -The Council of International Security met with the President, who had -been called home from his Martian vacation. Health was adamant; State -left the conference with a won point but a red face. The Denebian -Ambassador received a copy of the minutes of the special session and -gloated. Some said Health had maliciously given the transcript to the -saurian from Deneb. State marched into Bryan Channing's office with -his red face and demanded a solution. Someone, said State, would have -to resign. - -"Which would solve nothing," Channing told his boss glumly. - -"But we might get off the hook. What about that explorer, Nicholson?" - -"He did his job," said Channing. "Just like I'm trying to do mine." - -"The wolves are howling from both directions," pleaded State. "You've -got to do something." - -"That's the trouble. Both directions. If we get rid of Qui Dor and tell -the Targoffians we no longer want to maintain diplomatic relations, -Deneb howls and we lose prestige. If we leave Qui Dor alone, Health and -Public Welfare raises a stink." - -"Well, it's justified. Have you heard the latest?" - -"About what?" - -"About a state of emergency, Bryan. Places where the standard of living -is high, it isn't too bad. But try telling 'em in India they have to -buy and take food concentrates along with Qui Dor's stuff. They won't -listen to you. They starve to death. They take Qui Dor's medication to -get rid of disease and the symptoms disappear. But they're still sick -and some of them die." - -"Has anyone spoken to Qui Dor about this?" Channing wanted to know. - -"Health wants to. We won't let 'em. State's job, I said. They told me, -then do it. How can I do it, Bryan? What can I say? The only time I -ever met this Qui Dor was when he presented his credentials. You know -Qui Dor. You've talked with him. He'll feel more at ease with you--or -possibly that Nicholson fellow." - -"Afraid you'll have to count Nick out. He's not a diplomat. All he -wants is to get back into space again. You know, it isn't a bad idea. I -still have my explorer's rating. I could--" - -"Don't even think of it. You came up through the ranks, Channing. A man -doesn't go down the same way. He goes out. I don't like this business -of giving ultimatums. We're all grown men here, but ... Channing. I -want you to see Qui Dor. I want you to reason with him. Not the full -treatment, you understand. Qui Dor stays. Deneb would have us spitted -over an open fire, otherwise." - -"Then what do you want me to do?" - -"I'll leave it in your hands, but I want results. Is that clear? -Whatever you do, do not offend Qui Dor. But placate the Department -of Health and Public Welfare. I'm going down to India on official -business, Channing. Do you have any questions?" - -"Yes. How the devil can I make both of them happy?" - -"Be diplomatic," said State, and took his leave, a worried, red-faced -man with an over-sized brief case and round shoulders almost but not -quite hidden by an expert job of tailoring. - -"Julie," Channing called over the office intercom, "get me an -appointment with Qui Dor, Targoffian Embassy, for tomorrow morning or -as soon as possible. And is Nick out there listening?" - -"Well ... yes." - -"Tell him, pretty please, to take his spaceship somewhere and get lost." - -"Aw, boss," said Nicholson over the intercom. But he was laughing. - -Channing wasn't. - - * * * * * - -At least, Channing thought as he brought his copter down for an -excellent landing on the asphalt airstrip around which his and a dozen -other houses were situated in suburban Center Moriches, he could -retain his sanity at home. It was decidedly upper middle class, this -Center Moriches community, with half an acre of landscaped grounds for -each house, a copter and a surface car for each family, and enough -money floating around to keep everything, including the marble-walled -swimming pools, in good repair. - -There was something warm and secure about upper middle, anyway. The -lower strata might need some of Qui Dor's goods, the highest might -play with them extensively to show that it could but didn't need to, -really. But upper middle was neither needy nor had the time for such -conspicuous consumption. Mindful of its bootstrap beginnings, upper -middle would ape what was above in such things as marble swimming pools -and over-generous charity donations and hardly leave time for what -Qui Dor had to offer. An occasional food cabinet and a little family -squabble, Channing admitted to himself, could be tolerated. But when -he remembered Ellen's thorough knowledge of Qui Dor and his Targoffian -theories, it unnerved him. - -The crabapple trees had shed most of their fruit on the back lawn, -dotting the blue-green carpet of grass with brilliant red. The roses -were out of bloom but protected next year's blossoms with thorny -security. And best of all, thought Channing, breathing deep of -everything, there was the chill of autumn on the air and the brittle -gold of it in the fast-fading sunlight and the leaf-burning smell of -it, so piquant he could almost taste it. - -Ellen was not on the back lawn, not in the den, the living room, the -basement, or the kitchen. Ellen was in one of the spare bedrooms. - -Ellen had a baby. - - * * * * * - -"You're minding it until one of the neighbors returns," Channing -suggested hopefully. - -"Uh-uh. It's mine." - -"Now wait a minute!" - -"Shh, please." Ellen was burping the tiny infant who, wrapped in -swaddling clothes and balanced shapelessly on her shoulder, was staring -at Channing out of big, solemn eyes. The lips puckered, not all at -once but slowly, building up a head of steam. Burp and frightened wail -issued forth at the same instant. - -"What do you mean, it's yours?" Channing demanded. But the facts were -plain enough. The spare room had been converted to a nursery, all done -in pink, with crib and bath-gadget and nightstand and a little pink -diaper pail. - -"Do you like the name Stephanie?" Ellen asked, gently placing the -infant in her crib and cooing at her until the wail subsided. - -Incredulously, Channing stepped across the threshold to have a closer -look. Stephanie puckered and wailed again, drumming tiny legs under the -swaddling clothes. - -"You're frightening her," said Ellen. - -"Will you please tell me what's going on here?" - -"Only if you lower your voice." - -"There," Channing told his wife in a furious whisper which made -Stephanie shriek. "Now tell me." - -"Dr. Lang said I couldn't have a baby for two more years. You know -that. When I heard about the babies Qui Dor Enterprises were--" - -"So now it's enterprises," Channing shouted. Stephanie drowned him out. - -"She's pretty, isn't she?" - -Stephanie's small, snub-nosed face was pink with fury. The mouth opened -wide and hollered. - -"I don't care if she's going to grow up and be Miss Universe. By the -way, does--does she actually grow up?" - -"What's the matter with you, Bryan Channing? Of course she grows up. -She's real." - -"As real as that food cabinet. How much did she cost?" - -"I won't tell you while you're mad like that." - -"Don't you see how fantastic this is?" Channing pleaded, "We can't go -around with a fake baby." - -"Fake? How dare you!" - -"Yes, fake. How would you go about entering her in school when she's -four years old, for instance?" - -"We'll worry about that in four years, but don't you call Stephanie -fake. Anyway, Qui Dor is selling so many babies, provisions will have -have to be made." - -"That's what the salesman told you. The Viennese." - -"Yes. But if you had to clean up the mess she makes, you wouldn't call -her fake." - -"She goes," Channing said, pointing theatrically at the door, then -regretting it. How did he ever get to be a diplomat, anyway? - -Ellen ignored him. "You know, dear, I think she looks like you. I was -able to select my own features and weight and everything. At birth she -weighed six pounds. She's two weeks old now and already gained a pound." - -"At birth? Two weeks?" - -"Well, you know what I mean. She would have, if she--" - -"Oh, then you admit it?" said Channing in triumph. "She isn't real." - -"Well, she wasn't born like--like other babies. But she's real. You may -hold her if you want." - -"I don't want." - -"Just to convince you." - -"Let's not go through that again." - -"You're shouting. You're making Stephanie cry. What's the matter with -you, Bryan?" - -"Nothing's the matter with me. My wife is going crazy. Here I'm -supposed to put a stop to this sort of thing on a worldwide level, and -my own wife betrays me." - -"That Viennese had a good point, you know. I don't entirely agree with -him, but he said a lot of women like babies and want children, but -would rather not go through nine months of pregnancy and giving birth -and all. Qui Dor Enterprises provide the baby." - -"It's not real." - -"Don't call Stephanie an it, I said. She is perfectly real. She is as -real as you. You can touch her, feel her, smell her--try changing her -diaper sometime, Bryan." Stephanie shrieked. - -"You sure can hear her," Channing admitted. He explored the little -bundle experimentally with a forefinger and was gratified when she did -not howl. - -"See, you like her." - -"I do not like her. She doesn't exist." Channing backed away. - -"For a twenty-first century man with a college education, sometimes you -can be the stubbornest--" - -"She's not even a mess of chemicals!" stormed Channing. "It wouldn't be -so bad if they made her in a test-tube or something. She just--is. You -don't even know how they do it. You can't even call her an artificial -baby." - -"I'll say you can't," Ellen told him, picking Stephanie up and -engulfing her with protective arms. "She's a real one." - -"She goes," Channing. "It goes, do you hear me?" - -"Stop shouting." - -"Well, it does." - -"Is that so?" Now Ellen was shouting. "You better get that idea out of -your head, Bryan. You can't boss me like that. Stephanie stays or ... -or I don't." - -"You're acting like a child." - -"Am I? I'm not joking. Why don't we talk about it later, after I fix -you dinner?" - -"We'll talk about it now." - -"I have nothing to say." - -"I don't want to see her here tomorrow night." - -"You're impossible. You're getting to be an ... ogre." - -"In the office too," Channing said. "But I won't stand for it at home, -understand?" - -"Don't make a scene in front of the child." - -"I'm not making a scene. She's no child." - -"We'll talk about it later." - -"Then talk to Stephanie," said Channing. "I'm going out." - -"Goodbye. Don't slam the door." - -They were behaving irrationally, Channing realized as he went for a -spin in the copter, clearing the suburban traffic lanes and heading -west toward the city. He was as much to blame as Ellen, but he couldn't -let this thing get the better of him at home. If only he could explain -to the Targoffian Ambassador that his business enterprises were playing -hob with the socio-economic set-up on Earth not to mention Channing's -own marital life. The thing that hurt almost as much as Channing's own -troubles was the Denebian Ambassador. He could picture the saurian face -gloating. - - * * * * * - -"Good morning, chief. You have an appointment with Qui Dor at the -Targoffian Embassy, eleven hundred hours." - -"Morning, Julie. Anything else?" - -"You look tired." - -He couldn't tell her he'd been sleeping in a hotel. A man gets used to -suburban quiet. "One of those nights," he said. - -"I'm afraid it's going to be one of those mornings, too, if you don't -mind me saying so. Mrs. Delacourt is here." - -"From Health and Public Welfare? Oh, no." - -"Definitely yes. In your office, chief. And mad. Nick called and wants -to see Qui Dor with you." - -"Tell him nothing doing. Tell him I'll see him later. Sometimes I think -it's all some kind of conspiracy between Nick and Qui Dor." - -"You know Nick is only doing his job, chief. As an explorer with -portfolio, he finds new planets and begins arranging diplomatic -relations with them." - -"With all the planets in the galaxy, why did he have to stumble on -Targoff?" - -"Ask Nick." - -"Don't mind me, Julie. Just letting off steam." Channing pushed -through the door marked UNDER SECRETARY FOR EXTRA-SOLAR AFFAIRS. Mrs. -Delacourt paced back and forth like a fat lion which had learned to -walk on its hind legs and grown soft in the process, but was still -dangerous. - -"State's out," she said, bristling. "I had to see someone." - -"What's it about this time?" Channing demanded wearily. If he kept -this up, he would be out of a job in record time. Of all the Cabinet -portfolios, Health and P. W. was the one you had to bend over backwards -to please. The Secretary was usually a bridge-partner and friend of -the First Lady. Her assistant might have been the wife of a five-star -general or at least a Congressman. Delacourt--anyway the name wasn't -familiar. "I'm sorry," said Channing. "Bad night. Can I help you?" - -"I doubt it, Mr. Channing. As you know, litigation moves swiftly these -days. Are you aware of the case of Myers versus Myers?" - -"No, m'am." Before you knew it, it might be Channing versus Channing. - -"You should be. When Sylvanus Myers died, he left an estate valued at -three million dollars. He cut the widow off with almost nothing and -left the bulk of his wealth to his--uh, child." - -"I'm afraid I don't see the connection." - -"This child was purchased from Qui Dor. Child, indeed. Mrs. Sylvanus' -attorneys brought suit, maintaining that since the Sylvanus child did -not exist, he could not legally inherit the estate. Do you follow, Mr. -Channing?" - -And, after Channing lit his pipe and nodded: "They weighed the Myers -baby. They examined him. They pointed out he had a set of unique -fingerprints, like a person. They showed his retinal pattern was -both distinct and unique, as well as his electro-encephalogram. -Child psychologists tested him and found him normal in every -way. He perspires and passes his water and--forgive me, Mr. -Channing--defecates." Mrs. Delacourt took the whole thing as a personal -insult, as if, in finding that the Myers child functioned normally, the -doctors had somehow deflated not only the entire human race but Mrs. -Delacourt as well. - -Half listening and half wondering if he had presented the same -ridiculous picture to Ellen the night before, Channing said, "Go on, -Mrs. Delacourt." - -"The Myers child had been born, created or made to exist in the State -of New Jersey. The Myers child therefore was adjudged a citizen after -his attorneys had invoked the Fourteenth Amendment. Do you understand -what that means, Mr. Channing?" - -"I guess it means the Myers child will get his inheritance." - -"It means much more than that. It set a precedent. Qui Dor creations -have equal rights before the law, Mr. Channing. They can sue, they can -vote, they can hold office, they can--" - -"I can't see the harm in that." - -"It encourages more of them. If you leave a fortune and want it spent -a certain way, the Qui Dor Enterprises will create precisely the -individual you want as an heir. It encourages crime, Mr. Channing. The -Qui Dor Enterprises can create an individual for you to commit a crime. -He'll do the job, you'll return him, he'll cease to exist--" - -"And you'd be guilty as an accessory." - - * * * * * - -Mrs. Delacourt shook her head. "No, you wouldn't. I have looked into -the legality of the matter. That would be like admitting there were -such things as pre-natal influence. The Qui Dor creation, whether child -or full grown, is a citizen with all a citizen's rights, and since -we don't recognize the possibility of pre-natal influence, we don't -recognize the real criminal in such a case as an accessory." - -"It's not the same thing." - -"In the eyes of the law, I fear it is." - -"But if you return a--a citizen to Qui Dor and the citizen ceases to -exist because he's no longer needed for the job--it does work that way, -doesn't it, Mrs. Delacourt?" - -"Yes." - -"Then you'd be guilty of murder, taking the life away from the Qui Dor -creation, I mean. It's complicated." - -"No, it isn't. It's simple. You'd be guilty of nothing. _Esse es -percipi_, Mr. Channing. No one's been murdered. There's no corpse. No -one exists." - -"I give up," said Channing. "Mrs. Delacourt, I can sympathize with you. -For personal reasons, I can understand your problem. But right now -there isn't a thing I can do about it. However, I'm going to see Qui -Dor this morning and possibly something can be arranged to your mutual -satisfaction." - -Mrs. Delacourt had hardly heard him. "Yet _esse_ should be more than -_percipi_," she was mumbling. "There should be more to existing than -merely being perceived, don't you think? It would all be so--so empty, -so meaningless that way. They can make any legal decision they wish: I -am more than something which is seen or touched or ... or tasted. Not -merely myself, Mr. Channing. The people. All the people. You. Are you -only the various qualities of sense, an image in my mind, an idea? Are -you?" - -"I don't know," Channing admitted. - -"If you are, if we all are, it's a sinister plot against the people. -Civilization is ruined. Qui Dor's creations shall surely take over. -Why, before you know it, women will stop having babies. No pain, no -nuisance, no chance of congenital illness." - -"I know exactly what you mean," Channing declared ruefully. "I've got -to see Qui Dor, though, Mrs. Delacourt." - -"Call me and let me know. Oh, do call me and tell me you've sent him -packing." - -"Remember Deneb, m'am. I'll do my best." - -A few moments later, a furious Nicholson telio'd Channing and informed -him that the New York State Junior League was lobbying Congress to pass -a law nullifying diplomatic relations with Targoff. That was the root -of the evil, they said. The planet itself. We want nothing to do with -them. We don't want our children associating with images. Channing -swore in silent desperation. You couldn't argue with the Junior League. -Qui Dor Enterprises was lowering the standard of living more and more -every day, not maliciously, certainly, but lowering it nevertheless. -Divorce, malnutrition, illness, crime, decreased birth rate, domestic -squabbles.... - -Which immediately suggested a hopeful but abortive attempt at -reconciliation with Ellen. Yes, she was busy. Of course she had kept -Stephanie. What was the matter with him, anyway? He could hear the girl -wailing, couldn't he? She was so helpless. She had to be cared for. -Where was his sense of responsibility? Well, yes, she still loved him, -but not if he were going to maintain his pig-headed attitude toward -their daughter. What? Yes their daughter. He heard her. Click and -fadeout of the picture of his wife, bunting in one hand and a squealing -infant with obvious quiddity but questionable essence in the other. - -Three quarters of an hour later he stormed into Qui Dor's office on -the top floor of an old office building which had been converted into -the Targoffian Embassy in the days before anyone anticipated anything -but a casual interchange of cultural trivia between the Targoffians -and Earthmen. He cooled his heels in the reception room, fighting -back an impulse to ask the too-pretty, too-courteous, too-efficient -receptionist if she were real. By the time he was admitted to Qui Dor's -sanctum sanctorum he presented, at least on the surface, the unruffled -appearance of a diplomat on a routine state call. - - * * * * * - -"Bryan Channing, is it not? You see, I have learned your language with -no great difficulty." - -In Channing's job, you had to forget human standards. The office -was large, with a high-vaulted ceiling where the insulating space -beneath the building's roof had been exposed. There were two or three -comfortable chairs which would fit Channing. There was a big sign -beyond Qui Dor's massive desk, blocking the window and the view of -other skyscrapers. It said QUI DOR ENTERPRISES--WE SELL ANYTHING. It -faced into the room, and with it as a back-drop, Qui Dor looked like -anything but an interstellar ambassador. - -Qui Dor was a dozen feet tall and neither reptilian nor mammalian. He -defied classification in any terrestrial system, but with the feathery -covering, hard, protruding, pointed lips and round, small, jet-black -eyes, looked most nearly bird-like. The thin legs added to the -illusion; the three sets of thin arms dispelled it. - -"I haven't seen you since that day I showed you around the city after -Nicholson introduced us," Channing began, settling himself comfortably -in a chair and wishing he didn't have to stare at the sign behind Qui -Dor's feathery back. - -"You were a most gracious host, Mr. Channing. But now I suspect your -visit is of an entirely different nature." - -"Well, yes. Yes, it is." - -"I see that you are in danger of falling from Scylla into Charybdis, -as it is said in your literature. You needn't mince words with me. You -understand, I have my informants." The black eyes twinkled merrily, the -crest atop the long, narrow head stirred. - -_I'll bet they're from Deneb_, Channing wanted to say. This was a -pretty pickle, with the Denebians sitting somewhere out of sight and -chuckling over the whole thing. Why couldn't Nick have been even more -myopic--near-sighted enough to miss Targoff entirely? - -"There is no limit to what I can give your people," said Qui Dor. "Next -week we are opening a line of jewelry, as you may know. It is cheaper -than what you can get in your mines." - -South Africa, here comes disaster. "Artificial jewels?" demanded -Channing. - -"No, not artificial." - -"Natural?" - -"No." - -"Real?" - -"Decidedly. What is real, Mr. Channing?" - -"Well--but suppose you tell me. You're the man who's livened interest -in the British Empiricists after they'd been all but forgotten except -by students of philosophy." - -"What are you, Mr. Channing? That is, what makes you real?" - -"Umm, let me see. The chemicals. Yes, the chemicals of which my body is -composed. And a soul, whatever that is. If there is such a thing." - -"But are you really chemicals? That is, are the chemicals real?" - -"I don't follow you." - -"Like everything else, these chemicals have qualities. In solids, they -have size, shape, weight, bulk. Similar properties in liquid and gas. -On a secondary scale, they have color, taste, odor. On a tertiary one, -they can do things. They react. They behave as expected from a study of -the primary and secondary qualities. Now do you follow me?" - -"I think so." - -"I'm sorry to begin our discussion this way. I feel I know what your -problem is, but I'm starting at the beginning. Do you mind?" - -"Not at all." Mrs. Delacourt would be very unhappy. - -"Who is Mrs. Delacourt?" - -"Eh?" Channing cried. "I didn't say anything." - -"Your thoughts have such qualities too, Mr. Channing." - -"You mean you can read my mind?" - -"I can perceive it, as you can perceive color. To continue: we of -Targoff maintain that no thing in itself is real. Things only have -existence as their various qualities are perceived. When you leave this -room, as far as I am concerned, you do not exist." - -"A man named Hume went a step further than that," Channing told Qui Dor -with a smile. "After disposing of the world in such summary fashion, -he also disposed of you and me and everyone. The mind which perceived -these qualities, he said, was nothing more than a collection--he -used the word collocation, I think--of the qualities. So you have -non-existent external things on the one hand and a non-existent mind on -the other. The second nothing somehow gets images of the first nothing, -and that's the sum total of the world." - -"Interesting," said Qui Dor, ruffling his crest with a three-fingered -hand, "but hardly practical. You see, Mr. Channing, our theories work. -We can create your collocations of qualities to order. We can even give -a man immortality." - -"How can you do that?" - -"Why, by recreating his qualities down to the last atomic detail when -he dies." - -"You wouldn't," said Channing. - -"Not here, not yet. Someday, perhaps." - -"I don't want to be blunt, but you're playing hob with the whole -structure of our society." - - * * * * * - -Three sets of arms spread out before Channing in a very human gesture. -"We call it progress, don't you see?" - -"But that's interfering with the internal affairs of another planet." - -"Is it? We're not foisting anything on you. What we sell is exactly as -claimed. There is no compulsory--" - -"But how many people can resist?" - -"How many _should_, Mr. Channing?" - -"How do we know what you're creating is real, or permanent? I'll tell -you this, sir: you're in trouble if it's all an illusion." - -"My dear Mr. Channing, I'm surprised at you. Your culture has created -or accepted--or that strange combination of both which is the -religious zeal--a First Principle, a Prime Mover, a deity culturally -endowed with the ability to create. Your culture then supposes this -deity did his creating once, long ago, and now is content to rest -through all eternity. I say the first half of it is anthropomorphic -wish-fulfillment. I say the second is a lack of cultural imagination." - -"Are you calling yourself a deity?" Channing shuddered at the -possibility. Along with Health and P. W. and Ellen, every church on -Earth might soon be clamoring for his scalp. - -"Yes and no. Why create--or accept--the godhood if you have the power -yourself? No wish-fulfillment was involved. And we never stopped -creating." - -"Are you trying to tell me that you ... that you can actually, well, -create things out of air?" - -"Out of nothing, Mr. Channing. For we create nothing. We merely -establish your Mr. Hume's collocation of qualities around any desired -pattern. We do not admit the existence of the external world, so we are -not bothered about creating parts of it. You understand?" - -"How do you do it?" - -"We do it." - -"Where will you stop?" - -Qui Dor made the shrugging gesture again. "I see that the problem is a -domestic one for you as well. Here." He reached into a drawer of his -desk and produced a diamond-studded tiara. - -Channing touched it gingerly, as if the many-faceted gems might burn -his fingers. "Was this there a minute ago?" he asked. - -"It was there when I opened the drawer and looked for it. It is there -now, when you are touching it. But put it back in the drawer, Mr. -Channing." - -Channing did so. Qui Dor shut the drawer. - -"Now where is it?" the Targoffian Ambassador demanded. - -"In the drawer." - -"Indeed? How do you know?" - -"Well, I--suppose I don't know." - -"Open the drawer, if you please." - -Channing did, and found the tiara. "See?" - -"Yes, but what about when the drawer was shut? I admit, it's a -difficult concept to grasp at once. You see, we of Targoff are not -interested whether the tiara exists when someone is not actively -perceiving it or not. It exists when existence becomes a necessary -quality for it. It's a Monday, Wednesday, Friday concept, Mr. Channing. -Your mind can grasp it only at times, and perhaps even then flittingly. -Like the ontological proof for the existence of your God: by -definition. He is an infinitely perfect Being. Since existence is one -of the qualities of infinite perfection, He exists. Do I make myself -clear?" - -"No-o." - -"Here. Take the tiara to your wife. My compliments. Things will work -out for you, Mr. Channing." - -"I came here to work out some compromise with you," Channing said, -pocketing the tiara, then feeling foolish and placing it back on the -desk, then deciding that would be quite undiplomatic and pocketing it -again while Qui Dor's round eyes fairly sparkled. "Instead, I find -myself being lectured on the philosophy behind the trouble. That -doesn't help." - -"You're confused, Mr. Channing. When I said things will work out for -you, I meant it. More I cannot tell you, except to say the matter is -entirely up to you. I should have said things can work out for you. I'm -sorry if this sounds cryptic, but I can tell you no more. Incidentally, -I'm sure your wife will like the tiara." - -It did sound cryptic. Channing did not know if Qui Dor was sorry. -Channing was sorry. - -Maybe he'd be better off giving the tiara to Mrs. Delacourt. - - * * * * * - -When Channing could make only a negative report to Mrs. Delacourt, -the wheels began their spinning. Health and P. W. tendered a frosty -ultimatum which he was forced to ignore because he lacked policy-making -authority. Someone bent the First Lady's ear, who in turn bent the -President's. When State himself returned from India with a redder face -but no answers, he received a verbal whipping and almost achesonian -condemnation in the press. Clearly, he needed a scapegoat. - -While State was being chastized by the President, the scapegoat was -home in Center Moriches, determined to rescue something from the -sinking ship of life. He'd effect a reconciliation with Ellen and they -could debate the ultimate disposition of little Stephanie at some -later date. - -A savory aroma assailed his nostrils from the kitchen. He found Ellen -there, scurrying from pot to pot, a determined look on her face, a -stray lock of chestnut hair loose over one eye. - -"Chicken cacciatore," he said, breathing deeply. "Hey now, we haven't -had that at home in a long time." - -"Too long," said Ellen, stirring the delicious contents of a large pot. -"A girl can make mistakes, dear. Smell good?" - -"Wonderful." - -"I knew you'd listen to reason. I just knew it." - -"Well, I'm a reasonable guy." What was she talking about? he wondered. - -"That's why I married you. Taste?" - -"No. I'll wait till it's on the table." - -"Stephanie's gained another pound." - -"That's--uh, fine." - -"I must say, you don't seem as enthused about her as you did before." - -"Before?" - -"This morning." - -He had been in his office all morning, taking the afternoon off to come -home. "What did I say?" Funny, he did not remember calling her. - -"You know what you said." - -"Honest, I don't." - -"Say, are you planning to renege or something?" - -"Ellen, something's screwy. I don't remember calling you this morning." - -"That's because you didn't, dear." - -"But you said I said--" - -"Are you trying to be funny?" - -"No." - -"You were here all morning. You weren't gone more than an hour when you -came back." - -"I--came back?" - -"Of course." - -"I did not." - -"Are you trying to stand there and tell me we didn't have a long talk -this morning in Stephanie's room? Are you trying to stand there and -tell me we didn't decide to keep Stephanie and maybe even get her a -little brother in a year or so?" - -"What's got into you? I never said anything of the kind." - -"Bryan Channing! If you're joking, I don't find it so funny." - -"Neither do I. I'm not joking." - -"I--I hate you...." - -"One of us had better see the doctor," said Channing, placing his hands -on Ellen's shoulders and bending forward to kiss the whisps of hair at -the nape of her neck. "Maybe you'd like to go away to the country for a -while." - -"Don't you kiss me." - -"What's the matter now?" - -"You changed your mind. You're trying to lie your way out of it." - -"I'll call Dr. Flint." - -"You'll go out someplace and eat supper, you mean." Off the range came -the pot of chicken cacciatore, its delightful contents landed into the -garbage disposal unit. - -"Ellen!" - -But only a stiff back answered him, and presently even that disappeared -when a sudden wail from the direction of the nursery summoned it, armed -with bottle and burp-rag. - - * * * * * - -Nicholson met him in the waiting room of his office. "You sure went and -put your foot in it," the explorer said. - -"When did I do what?" - -"Telling the Denebian Ambassador how Qui Dor was snafuing everything -and why we couldn't do a thing about it. If they don't take away your -explorer's papers too, you're always welcome on my ship, Bryan." - -"I didn't even see the Denebian Ambassador." - -"That's not what Julie says." - -Julie looked up from her desk in exasperation. "You're still the boss, -so maybe I shouldn't talk like this, but honestly chief, how could you?" - -"Damnit! How could I what?" - -"I almost fainted when that, that monster from Deneb walked in here. -You always tell me to keep the intercom open when you have an important -visitor and take everything down in shorthand. So I did. Then you -walked out of your office with the Denebian Ambassador, smiling and -practically holding hands--if you call what he's got a hand." - -"I went home around midday. I never saw the gentleman from Deneb." - -"You use the word gentleman loosely," said Nicholson. "And unadvisedly." - -It was then that State stormed in, his face almost mauve. "Channing, -pack your junk. You're fired." - -"Now, wait a minute--" - -"Miss Marshall here had the good sense to send me a transcript of your -little meeting. Of all the achesonian gall...." - -"Who, me?" - -"Fired. Out. Now." - -"But what am I supposed to have done?" - -State pulled some papers from the inside pocket of his jacket. "Here, -you rat. Try page three." - -Channing took the papers and turned to the third page. He read: - -CHANNING: Exactly what I was saying. - -DENEBIAN AMBASSADOR: Then we ought to bide our time? - -CHAN: Sure. Right now, Earth's becoming the laughingstock of the -galaxy. And later on it will be worse. - -D. A.: That's only conjecture, of course. - -CHAN: But it makes sense. Not tomorrow or the day after that, but, say, -in a hundred years, Earth will be finished. For one thing, the birth -rate will drop off tremendously. People will stop working, because Qui -Dor can give them anything they want. - -D. A.: Then we'll make threatening gestures. - -CHAN: Right. And Qui Dor will supply Earth with armaments. - -D. A.: At the last moment, the armaments will vanish. Earth, committed -to war with us, will be helpless. - -CHAN: It's my understanding that not _all_ of Qui Dor's creations will -vanish when that happens. - -D. A.: That is correct. - -CHAN: Are we talking about the same thing? - -D. A.: I think so. Would you like some lunch, Channing? - -CHAN: Yes, but first I believe we ought to take a look at-- - -"Hold it!" Channing cried as State took the papers from him. "Let me -see the rest of it." - -"You've seen enough. Hell, you were right there. I thought I ought -to tell you we're going to see the Attorney General about possible -prosecution for espionage. Now get out of here." - -State was still mauve when Channing left. Nick was shaking his head. -Julie clucked her tongue, trying to dilute outrage with sympathy. - -For Channing, it was all some senseless nightmare. First Ellen, then -State, Julie and Nick. He took the slidestair down to the street -and the brisk autumn air cleared the confusion from his head so -that he knew; for the first time clearly, that he was out of a job -and--temporarily at best--out of a wife. If Qui Dor had seen all this -coming, Qui Dor had not mentioned it. But Channing suspected Qui Dor's -ability to read minds depended on close range perception. Besides, Qui -Dor had made it plain he would tell Channing nothing more than he had -disclosed at their original interview. - -Which left Channing one remaining avenue of information. - - * * * * * - -"Is the spacesuit adjusted satisfactory, sir?" The Denebian lacky said -un-gramatically, his stentorian voice booming above the static of his -own spacesuit radio. - -"Yes," Channing told him. - -The small saurian creature stood on a platform and dropped a -plexi-glass helmet in place over Channing's head. Air hissed in and -Channing asked: "Can you hear me?" - -"Most assured, sir. The radio is fine." - -Denebians breathed a mixture of methane and ammonia and looked enough -like pint-sized dragons to make Channing wonder if there had even been -some contact between the races in the obscure pages of pre-history. - -"Sarchix will see you now." - -Channing was led into an airlock in what had been the old -Crowell-Collier building and was now the Denebian Embassy, a -hermetically sealed skyscrapper in which most of the rooms and -corridors reproduced the environmental conditions of the Denebian -planet. Air was pumped from the little chamber; methane and ammonia -took its place. When a light flashed red over a bolted door at the far -end of the chamber, Channing opened it and walked through. - -"Is anything wrong?" Sarchix demanded. The Denebian Ambassador was -barely four feet tall, a chunky, fore-shortened dragon with diminutive -arms, an outthrust snout, legs like thick, armor-plated columns and a -balancing tail which trailed and tapered behind and was, Channing knew, -a potent weapon. A dragon on Chinese New Year's Day or Tyrannosaurus -Rex in miniature. - -"Why should something be wrong?" Channing said as the Denebian waved -an almost-atrophied forearm at a couch. At least, the arm looked -atrophied. It wasn't. Channing had seen how dexterously the Denebian -lacky had fastened the spacesuit helmet. - -"Well, you visit me so soon after our meeting." - -It was no conspiracy. Channing breathed a sigh of relief, reclined on -the couch as was the Denebian custom, and said: "I merely want to go -over some of our plans." The Denebian Ambassador and the Department of -State could not be working together to drive Channing insane. And Ellen -did not fit into the picture at all. - -Somewhere, there was a _second_ Bryan Channing. - -"But we hardly have any plans, Channing. All we have to do is wait. You -said so yourself. Your job is only to keep us informed." - -"I have some bad news, then. I was fired." - -"Eh?" - -"That is, Bryan Channing was fired from his job today. His secretary -overheard our conversation and sent a transcript of it to the Secretary -of State." - -"That is too bad," Sarchix admitted. "We could use a man in your -position. Tell me, Channing, are you prepared to play the Channing role -completely?" - -"Yes. Yes, I am." - -"Then we still have a chance. Let the secret out. There is a real -Channing and an _es percipi_ Channing. You have his appearance, -his fingerprints, his memories. Reveal him as a traitor, a Qui Dor -creation. Then you can have the game as well as the name." - -"In other words--" - -"In other words, two Bryan Channings are a nuisance, anyway. You would -undoubtedly make a blunder sooner or later, or Channing himself will -discover the fact. Beat him to the punch, find him in some awkward -situation and prove your point. Of course he'll claim he's the real -Channing. Naturally, he'll have Channing's memory and Channing's -fingerprints, as you have. But if you can accuse him and prove your -point, I daresay you'll find your job waiting for you again. Keep me -abreast of all developments, Channing." Sarchix spoke English with -hardly a trace of accent but with all the banal idiomatic expressions. -"Say, it's a pretty good deal for you, anyway. I hear Channing's -wife--your wife--is quite a looker by human standards." - -"She is," said Channing, glowering. The _es percipi_ Channing had -been contrite with Ellen. Regarding Stephanie, he had surrendered -unconditionally. The dirty so-and-so might even have explored the art -of love-making with her, especially if he knew all the little secrets -Channing knew--which he did--and wanted to employ them to convince his -brand new wife of his old status. - -"Well, good luck to you, Channing," said the Denebian Ambassador. "By -the way, you left your briefcase here after lunch." - -Channing spotted a duplicate of his own briefcase on the floor near -Sarchix's couch. He was about to retrieve it when a buzzer sounded and -the Denebian Ambassador spoke into a microphone in the wall. - -Channing could not understand the language and waited politely until -the conversation had ended. He stooped for the briefcase. - -"Wait a moment, if you please," Sarchix told him. "Bryan Channing has -returned to get his briefcase." - - * * * * * - -"Oh," said Channing in desperation. "Oh." - -"I was thinking precisely the same thing. If the second Channing has -returned for his briefcase, then he was the Channing who visited me -before. You see, he knew about the missing briefcase. You did not." - -"That's ridiculous," Channing blurted. "I know who I am." - -"Who are you?" - -"I'm not Bryan Channing. I'm the copy. And I can prove it." - -"Yes? How?" - -"By telling you what's inside the briefcase." It was a gamble, -Channing knew. But in all probability, the interior as well as the -exterior of the case had been duplicated. - -"But he knew, Channing. He knew. Well, we shall see. By now the airlock -should have been adjusted for our atmosphere. There...." - -The door opened. In walked Bryan Channing, face clearly visible in the -plexi-glass of the helmet. - -The two Channings stared at each other. - -"My Lord!" cried the newcomer. "Have they made _another_ copy?" - -"I'm the only copy," Channing said. "You're a fake. That is, you're -real." - -"He's lying," said the bona fide copy. "He must be Channing himself." - -"Sure," said Channing. "So I barged in here to let Sarchix know I was -aware of the copy. That doesn't make sense and you know it." - -"_I_ know who _I_ am, Channing. Therefore I know you're the real thing." - -"Is that so?" - -"Yes." - -"One moment, please," the Denebian Ambassador said. "I think we can -settle this." - -"How?" said Channing. - -"I will call Qui Dor." - -"Since I'm a perfect copy," Channing pointed out glibly, "he won't be -able to tell." - -"Who's a perfect copy? I'm a perfect copy." - -"True enough," said Sarchix. "He won't be able to tell by any -examination. But he can will the copy out of existence, leaving the -real Channing. Then he can make a new copy." - -"He can do what?" the copy cried. "Nothing doing. If he wills me out of -existence and makes a new one, it won't be the same thing. I won't be -me. I'll cease to exist. I don't care about any new copy. I care about -myself." - -"You see," Channing said, "he's looking for excuses." - -"It's all well and good for you to say that," the copy told Channing. -"You have nothing to lose." - -"Unfortunately," Sarchix explained, "you both stand to lose. The -original copy will cease to be, as the Channing on my left has pointed -out. But after the little experiment, Channing himself will have to be -eliminated. Now, if the two of you will wait inside while I call Qui -Dor...?" - - * * * * * - -They went into another room and paced together, five steps up and -five back. They glared at each other. They made threatening gestures. -Channing's brain was awhirl with ideas, all of them bad. The copy would -cease to be. Channing would be destroyed. A new copy would take both -their places. This was impossible. First he had to prove himself not -himself. He had neither succeeded nor failed. Now he stood to lose, as -the Denebian Ambassador had said, no matter which Channing he was. - -"Hey, you," he said finally. - -"Me?" - -"There's no one else here." - -"What do you want?" - -"Let's say, hypothetically of course, that you're the copy and I'm the -real Channing." - -"Hypothetically," said the copy. "Hypothetically, he says." - -"Let's say Qui Dor gets here and wills you out of existence. Then -Sarchix has me killed and a new Channing is made. What happens to you?" - -"Nothing, thanks to you. I just don't exist any longer." - -"What happens to me?" - -"At least you get what's coming to you. You're killed." - -"Right. If we stay here, we've both had it, and you know it." - -"Umm, yes. So?" - -"So let's get the hell out of here." - -"But if I leave I admit I'm not the copy. I _am_ the copy." - -"If you stay and Qui Dor proves you are the copy, you'll be destroyed -in the process. If he proves you're not, they'll kill you. Go ahead and -stay." - -"At least why can't you admit it to me now?" - -"I don't know what you're talking about," Channing said. "I figured -you were still making believe you're the copy in case Sarchix had a -microphone in this room." - -"So that's it." - -"I guess that's it. Want to come?" - -"Where do we go? This is a crazy situation. We can't work together." - -"I know that. I have in mind a temporary truce, just until we can get -out of here. After that, the fake Channing better get off Earth and get -off fast. If they find him he'll be eliminated. But it seems to me he -ought to do the real Channing a favor." - -"What do you want me to do?" - -"No, friend, it's what I want to do for you." - -"I'm the copy!" - -"Never mind," said Channing. "It seems to me the fake Channing, -whichever one of us is the fake Channing, ought to visit a few people -with the real Channing and straighten things out for him. Agreed?" - -"Let me think about it," said the copy. It was inevitable that he would -come to approximately the same conclusion. They had identical minds. -But, Channing thought vaguely, if he wanted to use the copy to help him -out of a couple of man-sized jams, he had to assume the copy would be -quite willing and eager to use him in the same way. He'd have to watch -himself. - -"All right," the copy finally said. "We'd better get out of here, -Channing." - -Sarchix met them at the door. A Channing on either side of him, they -grasped the diminutive arms firmly and carried him back into his own -office. The ponderous tail lashed out to left and right. Channings fell -like tenpins. But before Sarchix could reach his microphone for help, -the two Channings were up again and at him, avoiding the wild-swinging -tail, circling him warily for position and never once getting in each -other's way. - -Denebian draperies bound the arms and legs. They let the tail thump -the floor resoundingly. The stentorian voice thundered, but the -hermetically sealed room was also quite sound-proof. - -The two Channings chucked their spacesuits in the ante-room and took -the elevator marked FOR HUMANS ONLY--DENEBIANS MUST USE SPACESUITS. On -the street, people stopped to stare at the identical twins, who even -dressed alike, and at their age. - - * * * * * - -"Don't be alarmed, Ellen. Turn around." - -"Go away from me, Bryan Channing. I don't want to--Bryan! Bryan! Who's -Bryan?" - -"I'm Bryan, of course," said the copy, advancing with a sincere smile -and adding, "How's our little Stephanie?" - -"Just a minute!" Channing roared. "I'm me. He's--" - -"I see it now," Ellen mumbled. "I see it. I do. One of you, one is -a ... a creation. One of Qui Dor's creations." Her face was drawn and -white. "How long has this been going on?" She backed away from the -second Channing, who was trying to oust the first from her arms. She -backed away from both of them. - -"So that's your plan," Channing said. "If only one of us could stay you -figured it might as well be you." - -"Stop projecting." - -Full circle, thought Channing in despair. Now they both wanted to prove -they were real. - -"Nuts to both of you," Ellen said. "The way you've been acting lately, -how do I know you're both not fake?" - -They looked at each other, the two Channings. They looked at her. They -smiled. - -"Go ahead and laugh. Go ahead and.... Bryan, Bryan, why did this have -to happen to us?" - -"That's all right now, dear," the copy said. - -"You take your hands off her." - -"You mind your own bushiness." - -"Listen," Channing said to his wife. "Do you think I'd want you to keep -that--that girl inside?" - -"You said--" - -"He wouldn't want you to keep Stephanie," the copy said. "He'd be -jealous of any other copy or any other person, not really knowing how -deep your affection is. I want to keep Stephanie, however. You decide, -dear." - -"I didn't want to keep her all along," Channing shouted. "At least that -should prove I'm me. Maybe you don't like it, but that's me, that's the -man you married." - -"Listen to that, will you?" the copy said scornfully. "Not two weeks -old yet, and already he's getting presumptuous." - -"There!" cried Channing. "How would he know the copy's age, unless he's -it?" - -"From when all the complications started," the copy told him blandly. - -"Leave me out of this," Ellen pleaded. "I'm all confused. I don't want -both of you, I want my husband. I don't even care if he's angry about -Stephanie, I just want him." - -"I'm not angry--" began the copy. - -"That's enough, you." Channing grabbed his arm firmly and steered him -from the house. "There are other ways to settle this." - -"Like what?" - -"Like you'll see. First of all, we'd better get our job back. Then, I'm -beginning to get an idea." - -"I don't think I'd like it." - -"You wouldn't." - -"I'm beginning to get an idea too." - -"I guess I wouldn't like that, either." - -"You'd hate it." - -"At least everything's frank and above board." - -"For the time being." - -"Even that's frank." - -"Well, here's my copter." - -"I'm going to poke you in the nose. It's _my_ copter." - -But two identical copters were parked side by side on the landing -strip. They both had been using copter-cabs all day. - -"Suppose we just use one." - -"Climb in." - -"Where to?" - -"You said you had an idea." - -"I said we'd better get our job back," Channing told his copy. "The -idea can wait." - -"So can mine." - -They took off, rose into the traffic lane and headed for New York. -It was, Channing was the first to admit, one heck of a complicated -situation. - -The robot pilot settled their argument about which Channing should do -the driving. - - * * * * * - -"All right, all right," State said, mopping his brow. "One of you is -Channing and one of you isn't. We can't seem to get at the truth right -now, however. I take it you want your job back." - -"Yes," said the copy. - -"Yes," said Channing. - -"Do I give it to both of you? Is your salary doubled?" - -"Pretend there is only one," suggested the copy. "Give us one salary. -We'll work out our own problem." - -"I can't do that, either. One of you is a traitor." - -"I've got an idea for you, chief," Channing said. "To your way of -thinking, what's a pretty good definition of intelligence?" - -"Intelligence? I don't see ... well, it's an ability--yes, an ability -to adjust yourself in a rational way to adverse environmental -conditions. How's that?" - -"That's fine," Channing smiled. "You now have the opportunity to do -that, to meet the situation rationally. It will be quite a feather in -your cap, chief. What are the adverse conditions? Well, first there's -the Targoffian Ambassador and what he's doing. Second, there are the -two Bryan Channings. Stop me if I'm wrong: the combination threatens -the security of Earth--and threatens your job. That is, you've got to -come up with a solution which will satisfy everyone including Health -and P. W., and the President is not going to sit on his hands forever." - -"I'm listening." - -"Doesn't it strike you as odd that Qui Dor should bother to create a -second Bryan Channing?" - -"Why odd?" - -"If Qui Dor were going about his business in an objective way, -interested only in carrying the fruits of his own culture to Earth, -why would he need a spy? And here's something you don't know: when -the Denebian Ambassador was confronted with two of us, he immediately -contacted Qui Dor. They know each other, chief. It proves they're -working together." - -State glowed. "If we can substantiate that, we'll have Sarchix just -where we want him. We'd also have an excuse to break off diplomatic -relations with Targoff. But can you prove it, Channing? That is, if -you're Channing." - -"We can try. I think my double will verify this: the Denebian -Ambassador claimed Qui Dor could tell us apart by willing the copy out -of existence." - -State looked at the copy for confirmation. - -"Yes, that's true. But I don't think I like what's on your mind." - -State nodded. "All right, I'll buy that. But what did you mean when you -said Qui Dor could will the copy out of existence?" - -"The Targoffians maintain that the real world isn't--real. It seems -to work for them, so we can let it go at that. Apparently their -creations are mental projections, akin to extra sensory perception, -perhaps--although this is creation, not perception. If Qui Dor thinks a -copy doesn't exist, it doesn't." - -"Wait a minute," protested the copy. "They were going to will the copy -out of existence, then destroy the real Channing, then create a third -one." - -"Not if we conduct the experiment on our own terms," Channing -explained. "We'll be able to protect the real Channing. You see, -whichever one of us is real has nothing to worry about." - -The copy stared mute murder at Channing, then wilted almost visibly -when State decided: "That sounds fair enough to me. How soon would you -like us to contact Qui Dor, Channing?" - -"Not for a while yet, please. I have to see a man about a little job." - -"Well, I'll meet you home," said the copy. - -"The hell you will. We're going to share a hotel room until all this is -over. If you think I want you giving my wife ideas about that little -monster...." - -"_Your_ wife? Monster?" - -"A hotel," Channing insisted. "Get us a double room at the Waldorf -Towers. I'll see you later." - -Half an hour's time saw Channing in conference with Nicholson over a -couple of steins of ale. "Well, Nick," he said finally, ordering one -more round, "how soon can you get started?" - -"As soon as I can get a crew together. Tonight, for sure. Let me tell -you this, Bryan: after the crazy stuff which has been going on around -here, it will be a pleasure to get into space again." - -"I'm depending on you, Nick." - -"It's a cinch." - -"Speed is everything, don't forget." Channing sipped the foamy head and -amber liquid. "How long will it take you?" - -"Three days out to Targoff in sub-space, a day on Targoff. Three to -reach Deneb. A week, Bryan." - -"That's a long time. Well, I guess that's it. And Nick?" - -"Yeah?" - -"Don't find any more planets on the way." - -Channing called State and arranged the appointment with Qui Dor exactly -seven days hence, suggesting that Sarchix of Deneb also be invited. -Mrs. Delacourt, too. Might as well make everyone happy. - - * * * * * - -"So tomorrow your plan goes into effect," the copy told Channing in -their hotel room. - -Channing looked up from his magazine in surprise. "How did you know -that?" - -"I called State to verify the appointment. You realize that it can -have only one outcome for me." - -Channing shrugged. "I can't help that. Look, I have nothing against -you. You can still get off Earth if you want to." - -"What would happen to your plan then?" - -"To tell you the truth, I don't know. I still think it looks good." - -"Thanks for offering me my life, anyway. I'm not going anywhere, -though." - -"Suit yourself." - -"You are." - -"How's that, again?" - -For answer, the copy shouted, "Hey, George!" - -Three big men lumbered into the room, each one large enough to give -a Centaurian marsupial a good tumble. Four-foot tall George followed -them. George was from Deneb, complete with spacesuit. - -"I had a plan, too," the copy reminded Channing. "You forced my hand, -as they say." - -Channing dropped his magazine and stood up. One of the giants palmed -him back into his chair. - -"Sit still," said George. - -"Now, see here...." - -"Sit still. Be quiet." - -"If you disappear, they'll call the experiment off. Qui Dor will say he -already destroyed you. He'll apologize about copying me in the first -place." - -Channing's heart was thumping in his temples. "You're going to have me -murdered," he said. He wished he could come to some other conclusion. - -"And have the body found when you're supposed to be non-existent? _Esse -es percipi_, don't forget. A dead Channing would embarrass us as much -as a live one. You'll be taken far away instead." - -"And then murdered. You can't chance my coming back." - -"You seem hell-bent on your own demise." - -"I'm just projecting, as you once said. I should have done it sooner." -They had him, Channing knew. The three men had spread out about the -room, a swift, athletic strength in their every motion. The Denebian -barred the door, balanced forward on heavy-thewed legs, the tail -unencumbered by weight and ready to lash out. - -Abruptly, Channing leaped for the telio. The largest of the three -big men let him reach it, then slammed the edge of his hand down as -Channing clawed for the receiver. Channing nursed a numb wrist and -stared hopefully at his one remaining avenue of escape. The Denebian -twitched his tail, making thumping noises on the floor. - -Channing launched himself at the door, but the Denebian pivoted and -brought his tail around in a rising arc. Channing met it head-first -and collapsed on the floor. - - * * * * * - -It took some time for Channing to realize that he was in a trunk or box -of some kind. The darkness was absolute. He was so stiff he wondered -with a growing sense of horror if he had been embalmed. He seemed to -be sitting upright, head thrust forward and down, knees drawn up. Only -his arms had comparative freedom. Since there was absolute darkness all -around him, he wondered how they managed to bring fresh air into his -box. Unless it were dark outside, too. Unless they didn't try. - -He tried to rock forward experimentally and found that he could not. -His feet were wedged tightly, his back was against a wall. He could -only lift his arms half overhead, at which point his groping hands -encountered an unyielding surface. - -The inside of the box, which could barely accommodate Channing, was -hot--hot as a copter left too long in the summer sun, its windows -shut. He was acutely conscious of the sweat streaming down his face, -drenching his clothing, burning his eyes. His head ached and he felt -weak. He needed salt. He was trembling and nauseous from lack of it. - -He lifted his arms again and struck the surface above his head with his -knuckles. He struck it again. The noise sounded like sudden, angry -thunder in his ears, but the blows had been feeble and he did not -believe the sound carried very far. In the first few moments he rapped -with his knuckles continually, until he could hardly hold his hands -over his head. After that he paced the blows and sweated and thought. - -Was this tomorrow? Had Nick done his job on schedule? A fat lot of good -it would do if Channing remained where he was. He was in no position -to make book, but the baggage compartment of a spaceship seemed a good -bet. Outward bound, said spaceship, with a slowly suffocating Channing -to be disposed of at someone's leisure. The second Channing was just -brazen enough to pull it off. Since Channing had disappeared utterly, -it would be assumed he was the copy and had gone to collect whatever -reward copies collect after they no longer are wanted. - -His raw knuckles brought no response, but after a time he found he -could rock the box from side to side by bracing his elbows against -its sides and shifting his weight first in one direction, then the -other. Rocking intervals became longer as the box leaned further, -first to left then to right. In what seemed a short time, Channing -was exhausted. It was too warm, too wet, too stuffy. It was utterly, -completely, despairingly useless. If he could have stretched out in -quiet repose with a cool breeze wafting him, he might have given up at -that point. Instead, he summoned all his remaining energy and channeled -it in a final lunging effort. - -He felt himself tumbling, over and over. His head and arms took a -merciless battering which made him wish, suddenly, the box had been -even smaller and more constricting. - -He came to rest. A scratching noise bothered him. Damn vermin, go away. -But the scratching was outside. - -Light blinded him. - -"... some kind of animal, instead of declaring it. How cheap can people -be when they're willing to spend ... it's a man!" - -A face swam down at Channing, who blinked his eyes and squinted and -could see. - -"Are we in space yet?" he cried, struggling to get up. "Are we in -space?" - - * * * * * - -"I'll say this for you, Channing," State admitted. "You never come up -with the same old song and dance." - -"Don't you see?" the copy asked. "My double has been eliminated by Qui -Dor already. Right, Qui Dor?" - -"Right. There was some misunderstanding about the time, and I merely -willed the double out of existence." - -"Well, I don't know...." - -"I do," said Mrs. Delacourt. "This doesn't solve anything as far as I'm -concerned. We still have all the same problems." - -"You're so right," said Channing, entering the room on the double. -"Sorry I'm late, everyone." - -State stared Qui Dor down. "I thought you said--" - -"I don't understand it," Qui Dor protested. - -"They tried to have me killed," Channing said quite matter-of-factly, -as if it weren't very important to him. "Because I was real, I couldn't -be willed out of existence. This ties the whole thing up, boss. Qui Dor -and the Denebian Ambassador are working together in a conspiracy to--" - -"Your whole case," Qui Dor interrupted him, "rests on one simple fact. -You claim we created a double for you because we wanted a spy, as -you put it--an informant would be better--to keep us abreast of all -diplomatic developments here. Well, I will admit it. You are the real -Channing and this other man is your copy." - -The copy moaned softly. Channing felt sorry for him. - -"But," Qui Dor went on, "the copy was never created for that purpose, -and I can prove it. Mr. Secretary, will you summon the witness I have -waiting?" - -State nodded, glared at Channing, opened a door. In walked Ellen. -"Darling," she murmured, running into Channing's arms. "I'm ready to -admit I was wrong. I don't want Stephanie. I don't want your copy. I -want you." - -"You see, Channing," Qui Dor explained, "after you and Mrs. Channing -began to argue about the little girl she had purchased from my -representative, she decided to purchase, for a trial period, a copy of -you which had all of your traits she liked, and none of the bad ones." - -"You didn't," Channing said. - -Ellen nodded slowly. "I--I guess I did. I was wrong." - -Qui Dor offered State a forgiving smile. "You see how you Earthmen can -jump to conclusions?" he asked. "What is so nefarious about the woman -ordering a twin of her husband?" - -"Plenty," Mrs. Delacourt snapped at him. "You're wrecking our -social institutions. Of course, I wouldn't put anything past the -Channings--all three of them." - -"That's beside the point," the Denebian Ambassador spoke for the first -time. "In all fairness to the man from Targoff, we ought to think of -first things first. If you want my opinion as an objective observer--" - -"That's a laugh," Channing shouted. "You know damn well you're not -objective and never were." - -"--I would say this man Channing is a trouble maker. I think I told you -he assaulted me not long ago." - -"Yes," State admitted, "you did. I do wish, Mr. Ambassador, that -whatever happens here never goes beyond this office." - -"I understand," Sarchix assured him. - - * * * * * - -Frustration mounted in Channing and exploded. "You're all a bunch of -gullible fools!" he cried. "Letting them pull the wool over your eyes -like that. The only one with any sense is Mrs. Delacourt." - -State crimsoned. "That's enough, Channing. If I were your wife, I would -choose the copy." - -Ellen shook her head firmly. - -"In that case," Qui Dor said, "we might as well eliminate the second -Bryan Channing. You are quite sure, Mrs. Channing?" - -"Oh, yes." - -"I don't believe my wife had anything to do with it," Channing blurted. -"Maybe this isn't Ellen at all. Maybe she's a copy." Prove it, he told -himself wearily. Go ahead and try to prove it. - -Qui Dor ignored him. "Let me tell you in advance," he said, "that -the elimination of a copy extends beyond the merely physical. When -the second Channing disappears, so will your memory of him. You will -remember that any individual, any object--created by me or not--is -merely a collocation of qualities perceived by you, the people aware -of the object. To destroy the object is to destroy the collocation of -qualities within your minds--past, present, and future." - -In spite of himself, Channing was interested. "But according to the -British Empiricists, God's awareness was the constant conserver...." - -"We of Targoff are atheists. We have no God-memory, no constant -conserver. But why debate it _a priori_. Watch." - -"Wait, please ..." wailed Channing's copy. It was his own voice and it -was unnerving. - -The copy wasn't. Not gradually, but all at once. The copy vanished. - -"Well," said State, gazing about in a brief moment of confusion, "you -haven't been able to prove your point, Channing. I see no evidence of -collusion here. What were you trying to tell me, anyway?" - -Channing shook his head. "I don't remember." It was as if he had just -awakened from a dream and the more he tried to remember it, the vaguer -his memory of it became. - -"I suppose you know you're through, Channing." - -"I--I was fired, wasn't I?" - -"You were. I can't remember why, though ... wait a minute." The -Secretary had seen Mrs. Delacourt. - -"Certainly," she said, dragging herself up from the same un-remembered -dream. "I insisted on it." - -"You'll get decent references," said State. - -"Thank you." - -"Mr. Ambassador--both of you--I'm terribly sorry about all this. If -I can use my good offices in any manner whatever to help you, feel -perfectly free to--" - -"One more thing," Channing said. "One thing before I go." - -"Yes?" - -"In a moment." He frowned. He scratched his head. He sensed that some -vital cog had been slipped from his memory and all the little pieces -which remained had fallen apart chaotically. "I guess I'll go," he said -slowly. "I don't remember." He edged toward the door, Ellen following -him. - -"I don't care who's fired," Mrs. Delacourt told anyone who would -listen. "Something has got to be done about the Targoffians." - -Nick was going to Targoff to do something about it, Channing thought -dreamily. No, he was going to Deneb, via Targoff. Channing was supposed -to call him. - -"Oh, yes," he said. "I've got to make a call to Deneb." - -"Deneb?" Sarchix thumped his tail. - -"The Earth Embassy there. Our explorer, Nicholson." While State -protested and Mrs. Delacourt went on complaining, Channing placed the -call on their sub-space tie-line. If anyone could get rid of Qui Dor -and his copies, it was Nick. But strangely, Channing had thought he had -something concrete to go on. Well, Nick might help. - - * * * * * - -They spoke at length and Channing told the explorer to hold on. He -turned to Sarchix. "Mr. Ambassador," he said, "I thought you'd like to -know that we've done Deneb a great favor." - -"What's that? What did you do?" - -"We established diplomatic relations between Targoff and Deneb." - -"You're joking." - -"No. Honest." - -"Why in the world did you do that? I mean, it would seem that we're -capable of making our own decisions when it comes to--" - -"Uh-uh," Channing shook his head. "You just refused to accept a good -thing when you saw it. Good old Targoff and its magic. Now that -relations are established, of course, if for any reason you decide to -break them, that won't look so good as far as the rest of the galaxy -is concerned--unless Earth and Deneb should decide to break relations -with Targoff simultaneously." - -"Let me at that telio!" Sarchix cried, and was soon busy talking with -Nick in English and someone else in Denebian. - -"Will someone please tell me what's happening?" State demanded. - -"I'm not sure," Channing said. "Somehow, Deneb discovered Targoff -and hid the fact, then got us to discover it. It was a way to wreck -Earth's position in the galaxy, and to weaken Earth over a long period -of time to such an extent that Deneb would be top dog. But now, as the -Ambassador is beginning to find out, Deneb will also be confronted with -a lower standard of living, a high divorce rate, a low birth rate, food -which doesn't prevent malnutrition, medicine which cures symptoms but -not disease...." - -"I see, I see," Mrs. Delacourt beamed on Channing for the first time -since they had met. "Everyone can save face if Earth and Deneb break -off relations with Targoff at the same time." - -"Right. Only poor Targoff gets left out in the cold." - -"I assure you, it is far worse than that," said Qui Dor. - -Sarchix had finished on the tie-line and turned to face Channing with -a beaten look on his face--if you could call it a face and the slight -change of feature-orientation a beaten look. Channing thought you could. - -"Then we both break relations with Targoff?" he said. - -"No." Sarchix shook his head sadly. Qui Dor paced about the room as if -he were cornered. He seemed to know it and Sarchix did, although no one -else seemed to notice. - -At one and the same instant, Qui Dor and Ellen disappeared. A flitting -realization barely made itself felt in Channing's mind. Two of them, -but with no chance to take root. This was not Ellen. This was a copy -created by Qui Dor to convince them Ellen had wanted ... wanted -something, he couldn't remember what, created. Targoff and Qui Dor had -not been discovered by Sarchix of Deneb--the Denebians had created -them. The original power resided in the Denebians! - -White hot and searing, it entered his mind--and vanished. He watched -the Denebian Ambassador shaking hands with the Secretary of State -before leaving the room. Somehow, the Denebian Ambassador looked glum, -as if he had lost something important. - -"Am I fired or something?" Channing wanted to know. - -"I seem to remember some talk about it," State said vaguely. "But it -doesn't make sense. There's no reason to fire you." - -"I should be angry at this young man," Mrs. Delacourt mused. "Can't -remember why. Well, good day, Mr. Secretary." - -She left. - -"What did she want?" State asked Channing. - -"Beats me." - -"I'm tired, Channing. Going to take the afternoon off. You look bushed -yourself. Why don't you do the same?" - -"Thanks," said Channing. - -"I'll keep in touch with the office and call you if you're needed." - -"Much obliged," said Channing, and headed for home. - - * * * * * - -Ellen didn't let him go into the kitchen, but he could smell the -chicken cacciatore, anyway. Dinner was interrupted, however, when he -received a call from State. - -"This will interest your man Nicholson, Channing," the Secretary -said, "although it isn't actually in our field. If he's ever in the -neighborhood, he might investigate, though." - -"What will interest him? Say, where is Nicholson, anyway? Seems to me I -sent him someplace. Well, he'll turn up." - -"Nothing much, really. It seems a star six hundred light years -galactic north of Deneb disappeared. Since it didn't have any planets, -I suppose it really doesn't matter." - -"I'll try to remember and tell Nick," said Channing. "Did the star -have a name or just a catalogue number?" - -"They named it after the man who discovered it with the new Luna -telescope. Professor Targoff. It's called Targoff's Star." - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ES PERCIPI *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Es Percipi</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Milton Lesser</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 1, 2021 [eBook #66646]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ES PERCIPI ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<div class="figcenter x-ebookmaker-drop"> - <img src="images/illusc.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h1>Es Percipi</h1> - -<h2>By Stephen Marlowe</h2> - -<p>Diplomatic relations became strained when<br /> -the Targoffian Ambassador started selling miracle<br /> -products on Earth. Products that didn't exist!...</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy<br /> -October 1955<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Nicholson ducked into the room and squinted myopically through contact -lenses which made his eyes look watery and far away. "Better scram out -the back way, boss," he said. "That dame from the Department of Health -and Public Welfare is here again."</p> - -<p>Bryan Channing allowed himself ten seconds of barely audible swearing. -Finally, he said, "What does she expect me to do, snap my fingers and -make the Ambassador from Targoff disappear?"</p> - -<p>"It would be nice," Nicholson admitted.</p> - -<p>"Unfortunately," Bryan Channing said for the fifth time that day, "our -hands are tied. Sure, Earth can get along without Targoff. The galaxy -would hardly know the difference if sub-space opened up a world-sized -pocket tomorrow and swallowed Targoff and its sun."</p> - -<p>"But," said Nicholson.</p> - -<p>"Yes, but, I'll have to see the old battle-ax sooner or later, Nick. On -your way out you might as well tell Julie to send her in."</p> - -<p>"Oh, am I leaving?"</p> - -<p>"You get the idea," said Bryan Channing. "You discovered Targoff, then -dumped it in my lap. One of these days you better find us a planet -which will make Health and P. W. happy. Now, beat it."</p> - -<p>A moment after Nicholson had departed, the under-secretary of Health -and Public Welfare opened the door with a well-manicured hand and -followed it into Bryan Channing's office, which looked out on the East -River and the dismantling job being done on the Queensboro Bridge -through a solid wall of thermoglass.</p> - -<p>"I don't smoke and I don't drink on duty," she said primly after Bryan -Channing had made the necessary gestures and offerings. "There were -twenty-two thousand divorces in the New York Metropolitan Area alone -last week, Mr. Channing. I have figures for other locations, if you -wish."</p> - -<p>"Just let my secretary have them on your way out."</p> - -<p>"Very well."</p> - -<p>"Incidentally, I don't want to tell you your business, but the figure -doesn't seem so alarmingly high."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps. How would fifty thousand sound—for the first half of this -week?"</p> - -<p>"High," said Bryan Channing. "Go ahead."</p> - -<p>"Deaths from malnutrition and disease continue at an even more alarming -rate. These figures—" And the under-secretary began to remove a sheaf -of papers from her briefcase.</p> - -<p>"My secretary," Bryan Channing said again. "Can you pin these things -directly on Qui Dor?"</p> - -<p>"Qui Dor?"</p> - -<p>"The Targoffian Ambassador."</p> - -<p>"I can only go by his advertisements and what our field workers report -after interviews. Qui Dor or whatever his name is, is to blame, it -appears. Tell me, Mr. Channing, is it quite regular for a planetary -Ambassador to—well, to go into business like that?"</p> - -<p>"Yes and no," Bryan Channing told her, launching himself on his -favorite subject. "We don't make the laws, m'am. Fifty different -planetary cultures nurtured on fifty different sets of laws with a -heritage as rich as our own Roman one—you don't merely stamp out all -the existing laws and arbitrarily distribute a new code. All you can do -is hope that in some fields at least there is a common meeting point -for the planets."</p> - -<p>"You've failed to answer my question."</p> - -<p>"Sorry. The Lurane Ambassadors are primarily businessmen, out to make a -buck for their planet, as the expression goes. The Specixes Ambassador -is a glorified emcee trooping around with a bunch of acrobats, dancers -and singers. There are no laws which would prohibit Qui Dor—"</p> - -<p>"But he's threatening our entire way of life!" cried the -under-secretary, no longer prim and diplomatically correct.</p> - -<p>"Aren't you exaggerating the situation, m'am?" he asked politely. He -wanted to say she was making a mountain not out of a mole hill but a -pimple. He wanted to say a lot of things but never did, and realized -that was one of the reasons ulcers ran so high in the Department -of State. He would settle for some chianti, antipasto and chicken -cacciatore with Ellen in their favorite Italian restaurant, but first -he had to placate the emissary from Health and P. W. and keep Nicholson -happy at the same time. It hardly seemed possible, for if he knew -Nick, the myopic explorer-with-portfolio was eavesdropping on their -conversation through the office intercom.</p> - -<p>"You think it isn't serious, if our standard of living is threatened -by—"</p> - -<p>"Let's look at it another way. I mean, it's just not our problem. -That's an internal problem for the Department of Health and Public -Welfare to solve, m'am."</p> - -<p>"You can tell the Targoffian Ambassador to get the hell off our planet. -Excuse me."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Channing shook his head. "Even if I agreed with you, I couldn't do -that. Wouldn't that be perfect grist for the propaganda mills on Sirius -and Centauri, not to mention Deneb? Big Brother Earth goes around using -all the little planets. Humans break off diplomatic relations with -cultures which don't adhere to Earth standards—unless, of course, we -could milk something out of them."</p> - -<p>"You know that isn't true."</p> - -<p>"I'm not standing in judgment on it. I'm merely saying how they would -interpret it on Centauri and Sirius. Not to mention Deneb."</p> - -<p>It was Channing's trump card. You didn't argue when someone mentioned -Deneb like that. Deneb was the <i>ne plus ultra</i> of dangerous -interplanetary relations. If something were white on Earth, it was -black on Deneb. Unfortunately, Channing knew, there was at least as -much truth as fancy in what he said.</p> - -<p>"How do the Denebians deal with Targoff?" the under-secretary demanded.</p> - -<p>Channing lit his pipe and knew he was in for trouble. "They don't," -he said. "Diplomatic relations are not maintained between Deneb and -Targoff."</p> - -<p>"May I ask you why not? You see, Deneb can get away with it, but we—"</p> - -<p>"I'm surprised at you," Channing cut her off. "Earth can't sink to the -Denebian level. We've got to set the example. We've got to be a shining -light, a beacon, a...."</p> - -<p>"Those speeches sound fine on television," the under-secretary said, -"but I wasn't born yesterday, Mr. Channing. What are you going to do -about this situation?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing right now. The Secretary of State wants to let matters ride -for the time being. The President...."</p> - -<p>"I'm going to see the President, you know."</p> - -<p>"Maybe it's best," Channing admitted. He was a thirty thousand dollar -a year trouble-shooter for the Department of State, running smack-dab -into a brick wall.</p> - -<p>"You'll hear from me," warned the under-secretary. "You'll hear from -the President. This is deplorable."</p> - -<p>"Yes, m'am," said Channing, showing her to the door.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later, Channing had wilted his whiskers with depilatory, -staring all the while at his moody face with the slightly sagging jowls -in a desk mirror and wishing he were in some other line of work. The -achesonian epithet, it seemed, applied to State Department officials -above the level of clerk who had the misfortune of dealing with touchy -issues. If Health and P. W.'s Girl Friday had her way, Channing -suspected, he would be an ogre by morning.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Don't go near the living room," Ellen called from somewhere on the -bedroom level of the house, "it's still wet. The maid quit, dear."</p> - -<p>"Quit?" Channing hollered back. "What on Earth for?" He settled himself -on a web-chair in the study, poured a martini from the decanter Ellen -had prepared, and began to thumb through the impressive compilation of -figures the under-secretary had left with Julie.</p> - -<p>"She's getting married."</p> - -<p>"What?" Channing gasped. "Fanny getting married? I don't believe it."</p> - -<p>"Honest," said Ellen, entering the room. She was a little pretty -woman, dressed in tight black torrero slacks and a fuzzy crimson -sweater which Channing thought came from one of the Centauri planets. -She was twenty-eight, half a dozen years younger than Channing, with -short-cropped chestnut hair and the dimpled smile and attractive legs -which aided and abetted a diplomat's career. She knew it and in the -best modern fashion they made good use of it.</p> - -<p>Ellen sipped from Channing's cocktail glass, poured another for each of -them, pecked at his cheek with carmined lips and settled comfortably in -his lap. "You see," she said, not looking at him, "someone from Qui Dor -enterprises visited us on Monday."</p> - -<p>"So now Fanny's getting married. I'll be damned. Say, you didn't take -anything from them, did you?"</p> - -<p>"You mean like a husband? No-o."</p> - -<p>"I mean like anything. And stop kidding."</p> - -<p>"Well, yes, I did. Everybody's trying it, dear. I had to. I didn't want -to feel—left out."</p> - -<p>Channing climbed to his feet, almost dumping his pretty wife on the -floor. "All right," he said. "You tell me what you bought."</p> - -<p>"You won't be mad?"</p> - -<p>"I'm not saying."</p> - -<p>"Then I won't tell you."</p> - -<p>"Ellen—"</p> - -<p>"Promise?"</p> - -<p>"O.K. I promise."</p> - -<p>Ellen skipped away from him toward the dining room. "Then come on -inside and I'll show you."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Afterwards, he could have sworn that Ellen did no cooking. She merely -reached into a cabinet adjacent to the electric range, (must get a -radar range one of these days, he thought, especially with no more -Fanny around and the servant situation being what it was) and came -out with the platters, piping hot. "Hey," he'd said between mouthfuls -of savory white meat which tasted like a rare Centaurian fowl he had -eaten in that interplanetary restaurant on East 48th once, "this is -all right." The dessert was Sirius, and brother, what they could do -with those whipped toppings. And to finish it all off with the proper -pleasant glow, Ellen had even managed to find a bottle of good old -French brandy which must have been corked when Napoleon was a boy.</p> - -<p>"The devil with Fanny," Channing declared, loosening his belt a notch. -"I've got myself quite a cook. Say, if you don't want to tell me about -that Qui Dor thing, honey...."</p> - -<p>"Ha!" Ellen laughed triumphantly. "If that isn't just like a man. Give -him something good to eat and he'll be licking the palm of your hand. -But I said I'd show you. I already have."</p> - -<p>"Huh?"</p> - -<p>"You've eaten it. That's what the Qui Dor people sold me, that food -cabinet. How to keep a husband, they said. You see, no one can cook -that well, not in such variety. Mad at me, dear?"</p> - -<p>"No," Channing admitted. "It was delicious, every bit of it." But he -patted his slight paunch reflectively. "Sometimes food can be too good, -though."</p> - -<p>"Listen, big eyes. Qui Dor's food cabinet was made for guys like you. -Are you full?"</p> - -<p>"Lord, yes."</p> - -<p>"There wasn't a single calorie in what you ate. Nor any vitamins, -minerals or—"</p> - -<p>"I've heard of that," Channing said incredulously. "But, but I've -eaten. I know I have. I tasted it, all of it. I felt it going down. I -feel full now. I couldn't eat another thing."</p> - -<p>"I can't explain that, dear. You know the Targoffian Ambassador -personally. Perhaps he can."</p> - -<p>"But if there was no food value in any of that stuff, we still haven't -eaten dinner."</p> - -<p>"You're supposed to eat concentrates first, dear. I just wanted to -surprise you, that's all. Well, how do you like it?"</p> - -<p>"I want it out of this house tomorrow," said Channing, raising his -voice.</p> - -<p>"You don't have to holler at me."</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry. But that cabinet goes."</p> - -<p>"Why? Give me one good reason."</p> - -<p>"Because—because it isn't natural. That's why. Not natural."</p> - -<p>"And you're supposed to be the broad-minded whiz-kid of the State -Department."</p> - -<p>"I'm no kid any more."</p> - -<p>"Well, that's what they called you. It never hurt anybody on Targoff, -did it? This kind of thing?"</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't know. I've never been there."</p> - -<p>"What did Nicky say?"</p> - -<p>"He said Targoff looks like the richest planet he's ever seen, but -is really the poorest. He said they have nothing and seem to have -everything. He said they don't admit it, though. As far as the -Targoffians are concerned, they do have everything."</p> - -<p>"Well, do they or don't they?"</p> - -<p>"It depends on your point of view," Channing said. "Objectively, they -have nothing. Subjectively, they have everything. Point is, the stuff -isn't real."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, it isn't real?"</p> - -<p>"Say, has Qui Dor or someone been lecturing you? You're really going -off on the deep end about this Targoffian business, aren't you?"</p> - -<p>"Not Qui Dor, an Earthman, Viennese, I think, working for him. You -haven't answered me, dear. I said, what do you mean it isn't real?"</p> - -<p>"Well, it—it doesn't exist. It's all in the mind, in the imagination."</p> - -<p>"You just ate it. When you looked at it, the food was there. You could -smell it and taste it and touch it—if it was hot it burned your hand, -Bryan—and you had to chew it and swallow it. If you ate too fast it -might even give you an upset stomach."</p> - -<p>"But it wasn't real," Channing protested.</p> - -<p>"Then what is real? Look at me."</p> - -<p>"Um, pretty," said Channing.</p> - -<p>"Stop that. Stop trying to change the subject. It's all well and good -for you to talk about these things in the office, but you never want to -talk about them with me. Touch me. Go on, touch me."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Feeling mildly ridiculous, Channing placed his big hand on the fuzzy -red material covering his wife's shoulder. "So what does that prove?" -he said.</p> - -<p>"Stand up. Turn around."</p> - -<p>He stood up, pushing the chair back. He turned around, facing the -entrance to the living room.</p> - -<p>"Where am I?"</p> - -<p>"Where are you? Right behind me, of course. Sitting down at the table."</p> - -<p>"How do you know?"</p> - -<p>"I—I just know."</p> - -<p>"Are you sure? Can you be sure?"</p> - -<p>"I just saw you there, damnit!"</p> - -<p>"But you don't see me here now, unless you have eyes in the back of -your head, dear. How do you know I'm still here, unless you see me?"</p> - -<p>"Because you didn't get up and go away, that's why. I would have heard -you."</p> - -<p>"How do you know? Maybe I'm only around when you look at me. When you -<i>perceive</i> me, dear. You understand?"</p> - -<p>"No. Yes. I read all about the idealists in college, too. Berkeley, -Hume...."</p> - -<p>"The Qui Dor people say they have the right idea. To be is to be -perceived. As soon as you stop perceiving me—or anything—it no longer -exists. As soon as you see me again, here I am. If you carry it to -extremes, the notion can lead to solipsism, but—"</p> - -<p>"—but," Channing finished for her, "you can thank the good Lord that -Bishop Berkeley was no pagan and saved himself and the rest of us from -that way of thinking. Sure, to be is to be perceived. Maybe nothing -does exist unless it's being perceived, but that's where God comes -in. God is the constant conserver, he said. God is always looking at -everything. So everything always exists."</p> - -<p>"But the Targoffians are atheists, dear," Ellen pointed out with -exasperating logic. "You may turn around now."</p> - -<p>Channing turned around and glared at her.</p> - -<p>"You see, it works. I don't know what you're getting so mad about."</p> - -<p>"Then I'll tell you. What would happen if I went on eating meals like -that for a couple of weeks."</p> - -<p>"You'd lose weight, dear. You'd fit into that bathing suit I bought you -for our third anniversary."</p> - -<p>"I'm serious, damnit."</p> - -<p>"You'd be awful hungry. You'd suffer from malnutrition. But the -concentrates come along with the food cabinet."</p> - -<p>"Forget about the food cabinet. You're going to get rid of it tomorrow. -I want to ask you something else. Who did Fanny marry?"</p> - -<p>"She didn't yet. She's getting married on Saturday, she said."</p> - -<p>"My mistake," growled Channing. Ulcer potential was now following him -home from the office. "Who is she going to marry?"</p> - -<p>"Whom."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Someone sent by the Qui Dor people."</p> - -<p>"Will he be real?"</p> - -<p>"We just went through all that."</p> - -<p>"Will I be able to see him?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Anybody?"</p> - -<p>"Of course. You see, he's real. Not only that, he'll be the ideal -husband. At least, he'll be Fanny's ideal husband. You have a wide -variety to choose from, they told me. You can even buy one whose -temperament changes to suit yours day by day."</p> - -<p>"There were fifty thousand divorces in New York so far this week," -said Channing, "according to the under-secretary of Health and Public -Welfare. Have you any idea why?"</p> - -<p>"I guess people were shedding their spouses to marry the ideal mate -before the price went up. Is there anything wrong with that?"</p> - -<p>"I think so," Channing said. "I didn't think so before. I told the -under-secretary not to get so upset. But I want you to answer one -question. Will Fanny's husband be able to give her children?"</p> - -<p>"No," Ellen conceded.</p> - -<p>"You get rid of the food cabinet tomorrow."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Within a week, the brick wall became a nightmare. Health and Welfare -met with State on the highest level. Health stood firm: something -must be done about the situation. Health's figures were not only -impressive, they were downright frightening. In Buenos Aires, where -Latin tempers flared and, anyway, summer was approaching, one out -of every two recent marriages and one out of three of older vintage -could be expected to end in the divorce courts—if annulment did not -get them first. In Paris, the shrugging French found the answer in -multiple marriage, provided not more than one of the partners was a -bona fide human being. In Russia it became illegal to talk of Qui Dor's -creations: they did not exist.</p> - -<p>State was equally firm: the cause of the situation could not at -this time be removed. Health must find its own internal solution. -The Denebian Ambassador began to pass snide remarks and send home -delightful tidbits of propaganda—was it true that the wife of the -President of United Amereurope had visited the attorney general's -brother-in-law concerning the possibility of divorce?</p> - -<p>The Council of International Security met with the President, who had -been called home from his Martian vacation. Health was adamant; State -left the conference with a won point but a red face. The Denebian -Ambassador received a copy of the minutes of the special session and -gloated. Some said Health had maliciously given the transcript to the -saurian from Deneb. State marched into Bryan Channing's office with -his red face and demanded a solution. Someone, said State, would have -to resign.</p> - -<p>"Which would solve nothing," Channing told his boss glumly.</p> - -<p>"But we might get off the hook. What about that explorer, Nicholson?"</p> - -<p>"He did his job," said Channing. "Just like I'm trying to do mine."</p> - -<p>"The wolves are howling from both directions," pleaded State. "You've -got to do something."</p> - -<p>"That's the trouble. Both directions. If we get rid of Qui Dor and tell -the Targoffians we no longer want to maintain diplomatic relations, -Deneb howls and we lose prestige. If we leave Qui Dor alone, Health and -Public Welfare raises a stink."</p> - -<p>"Well, it's justified. Have you heard the latest?"</p> - -<p>"About what?"</p> - -<p>"About a state of emergency, Bryan. Places where the standard of living -is high, it isn't too bad. But try telling 'em in India they have to -buy and take food concentrates along with Qui Dor's stuff. They won't -listen to you. They starve to death. They take Qui Dor's medication to -get rid of disease and the symptoms disappear. But they're still sick -and some of them die."</p> - -<p>"Has anyone spoken to Qui Dor about this?" Channing wanted to know.</p> - -<p>"Health wants to. We won't let 'em. State's job, I said. They told me, -then do it. How can I do it, Bryan? What can I say? The only time I -ever met this Qui Dor was when he presented his credentials. You know -Qui Dor. You've talked with him. He'll feel more at ease with you—or -possibly that Nicholson fellow."</p> - -<p>"Afraid you'll have to count Nick out. He's not a diplomat. All he -wants is to get back into space again. You know, it isn't a bad idea. I -still have my explorer's rating. I could—"</p> - -<p>"Don't even think of it. You came up through the ranks, Channing. A man -doesn't go down the same way. He goes out. I don't like this business -of giving ultimatums. We're all grown men here, but ... Channing. I -want you to see Qui Dor. I want you to reason with him. Not the full -treatment, you understand. Qui Dor stays. Deneb would have us spitted -over an open fire, otherwise."</p> - -<p>"Then what do you want me to do?"</p> - -<p>"I'll leave it in your hands, but I want results. Is that clear? -Whatever you do, do not offend Qui Dor. But placate the Department -of Health and Public Welfare. I'm going down to India on official -business, Channing. Do you have any questions?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. How the devil can I make both of them happy?"</p> - -<p>"Be diplomatic," said State, and took his leave, a worried, red-faced -man with an over-sized brief case and round shoulders almost but not -quite hidden by an expert job of tailoring.</p> - -<p>"Julie," Channing called over the office intercom, "get me an -appointment with Qui Dor, Targoffian Embassy, for tomorrow morning or -as soon as possible. And is Nick out there listening?"</p> - -<p>"Well ... yes."</p> - -<p>"Tell him, pretty please, to take his spaceship somewhere and get lost."</p> - -<p>"Aw, boss," said Nicholson over the intercom. But he was laughing.</p> - -<p>Channing wasn't.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At least, Channing thought as he brought his copter down for an -excellent landing on the asphalt airstrip around which his and a dozen -other houses were situated in suburban Center Moriches, he could -retain his sanity at home. It was decidedly upper middle class, this -Center Moriches community, with half an acre of landscaped grounds for -each house, a copter and a surface car for each family, and enough -money floating around to keep everything, including the marble-walled -swimming pools, in good repair.</p> - -<p>There was something warm and secure about upper middle, anyway. The -lower strata might need some of Qui Dor's goods, the highest might -play with them extensively to show that it could but didn't need to, -really. But upper middle was neither needy nor had the time for such -conspicuous consumption. Mindful of its bootstrap beginnings, upper -middle would ape what was above in such things as marble swimming pools -and over-generous charity donations and hardly leave time for what -Qui Dor had to offer. An occasional food cabinet and a little family -squabble, Channing admitted to himself, could be tolerated. But when -he remembered Ellen's thorough knowledge of Qui Dor and his Targoffian -theories, it unnerved him.</p> - -<p>The crabapple trees had shed most of their fruit on the back lawn, -dotting the blue-green carpet of grass with brilliant red. The roses -were out of bloom but protected next year's blossoms with thorny -security. And best of all, thought Channing, breathing deep of -everything, there was the chill of autumn on the air and the brittle -gold of it in the fast-fading sunlight and the leaf-burning smell of -it, so piquant he could almost taste it.</p> - -<p>Ellen was not on the back lawn, not in the den, the living room, the -basement, or the kitchen. Ellen was in one of the spare bedrooms.</p> - -<p>Ellen had a baby.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"You're minding it until one of the neighbors returns," Channing -suggested hopefully.</p> - -<p>"Uh-uh. It's mine."</p> - -<p>"Now wait a minute!"</p> - -<p>"Shh, please." Ellen was burping the tiny infant who, wrapped in -swaddling clothes and balanced shapelessly on her shoulder, was staring -at Channing out of big, solemn eyes. The lips puckered, not all at -once but slowly, building up a head of steam. Burp and frightened wail -issued forth at the same instant.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, it's yours?" Channing demanded. But the facts were -plain enough. The spare room had been converted to a nursery, all done -in pink, with crib and bath-gadget and nightstand and a little pink -diaper pail.</p> - -<p>"Do you like the name Stephanie?" Ellen asked, gently placing the -infant in her crib and cooing at her until the wail subsided.</p> - -<p>Incredulously, Channing stepped across the threshold to have a closer -look. Stephanie puckered and wailed again, drumming tiny legs under the -swaddling clothes.</p> - -<p>"You're frightening her," said Ellen.</p> - -<p>"Will you please tell me what's going on here?"</p> - -<p>"Only if you lower your voice."</p> - -<p>"There," Channing told his wife in a furious whisper which made -Stephanie shriek. "Now tell me."</p> - -<p>"Dr. Lang said I couldn't have a baby for two more years. You know -that. When I heard about the babies Qui Dor Enterprises were—"</p> - -<p>"So now it's enterprises," Channing shouted. Stephanie drowned him out.</p> - -<p>"She's pretty, isn't she?"</p> - -<p>Stephanie's small, snub-nosed face was pink with fury. The mouth opened -wide and hollered.</p> - -<p>"I don't care if she's going to grow up and be Miss Universe. By the -way, does—does she actually grow up?"</p> - -<p>"What's the matter with you, Bryan Channing? Of course she grows up. -She's real."</p> - -<p>"As real as that food cabinet. How much did she cost?"</p> - -<p>"I won't tell you while you're mad like that."</p> - -<p>"Don't you see how fantastic this is?" Channing pleaded, "We can't go -around with a fake baby."</p> - -<p>"Fake? How dare you!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, fake. How would you go about entering her in school when she's -four years old, for instance?"</p> - -<p>"We'll worry about that in four years, but don't you call Stephanie -fake. Anyway, Qui Dor is selling so many babies, provisions will have -have to be made."</p> - -<p>"That's what the salesman told you. The Viennese."</p> - -<p>"Yes. But if you had to clean up the mess she makes, you wouldn't call -her fake."</p> - -<p>"She goes," Channing said, pointing theatrically at the door, then -regretting it. How did he ever get to be a diplomat, anyway?</p> - -<p>Ellen ignored him. "You know, dear, I think she looks like you. I was -able to select my own features and weight and everything. At birth she -weighed six pounds. She's two weeks old now and already gained a pound."</p> - -<p>"At birth? Two weeks?"</p> - -<p>"Well, you know what I mean. She would have, if she—"</p> - -<p>"Oh, then you admit it?" said Channing in triumph. "She isn't real."</p> - -<p>"Well, she wasn't born like—like other babies. But she's real. You may -hold her if you want."</p> - -<p>"I don't want."</p> - -<p>"Just to convince you."</p> - -<p>"Let's not go through that again."</p> - -<p>"You're shouting. You're making Stephanie cry. What's the matter with -you, Bryan?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing's the matter with me. My wife is going crazy. Here I'm -supposed to put a stop to this sort of thing on a worldwide level, and -my own wife betrays me."</p> - -<p>"That Viennese had a good point, you know. I don't entirely agree with -him, but he said a lot of women like babies and want children, but -would rather not go through nine months of pregnancy and giving birth -and all. Qui Dor Enterprises provide the baby."</p> - -<p>"It's not real."</p> - -<p>"Don't call Stephanie an it, I said. She is perfectly real. She is as -real as you. You can touch her, feel her, smell her—try changing her -diaper sometime, Bryan." Stephanie shrieked.</p> - -<p>"You sure can hear her," Channing admitted. He explored the little -bundle experimentally with a forefinger and was gratified when she did -not howl.</p> - -<p>"See, you like her."</p> - -<p>"I do not like her. She doesn't exist." Channing backed away.</p> - -<p>"For a twenty-first century man with a college education, sometimes you -can be the stubbornest—"</p> - -<p>"She's not even a mess of chemicals!" stormed Channing. "It wouldn't be -so bad if they made her in a test-tube or something. She just—is. You -don't even know how they do it. You can't even call her an artificial -baby."</p> - -<p>"I'll say you can't," Ellen told him, picking Stephanie up and -engulfing her with protective arms. "She's a real one."</p> - -<p>"She goes," Channing. "It goes, do you hear me?"</p> - -<p>"Stop shouting."</p> - -<p>"Well, it does."</p> - -<p>"Is that so?" Now Ellen was shouting. "You better get that idea out of -your head, Bryan. You can't boss me like that. Stephanie stays or ... -or I don't."</p> - -<p>"You're acting like a child."</p> - -<p>"Am I? I'm not joking. Why don't we talk about it later, after I fix -you dinner?"</p> - -<p>"We'll talk about it now."</p> - -<p>"I have nothing to say."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to see her here tomorrow night."</p> - -<p>"You're impossible. You're getting to be an ... ogre."</p> - -<p>"In the office too," Channing said. "But I won't stand for it at home, -understand?"</p> - -<p>"Don't make a scene in front of the child."</p> - -<p>"I'm not making a scene. She's no child."</p> - -<p>"We'll talk about it later."</p> - -<p>"Then talk to Stephanie," said Channing. "I'm going out."</p> - -<p>"Goodbye. Don't slam the door."</p> - -<p>They were behaving irrationally, Channing realized as he went for a -spin in the copter, clearing the suburban traffic lanes and heading -west toward the city. He was as much to blame as Ellen, but he couldn't -let this thing get the better of him at home. If only he could explain -to the Targoffian Ambassador that his business enterprises were playing -hob with the socio-economic set-up on Earth not to mention Channing's -own marital life. The thing that hurt almost as much as Channing's own -troubles was the Denebian Ambassador. He could picture the saurian face -gloating.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Good morning, chief. You have an appointment with Qui Dor at the -Targoffian Embassy, eleven hundred hours."</p> - -<p>"Morning, Julie. Anything else?"</p> - -<p>"You look tired."</p> - -<p>He couldn't tell her he'd been sleeping in a hotel. A man gets used to -suburban quiet. "One of those nights," he said.</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid it's going to be one of those mornings, too, if you don't -mind me saying so. Mrs. Delacourt is here."</p> - -<p>"From Health and Public Welfare? Oh, no."</p> - -<p>"Definitely yes. In your office, chief. And mad. Nick called and wants -to see Qui Dor with you."</p> - -<p>"Tell him nothing doing. Tell him I'll see him later. Sometimes I think -it's all some kind of conspiracy between Nick and Qui Dor."</p> - -<p>"You know Nick is only doing his job, chief. As an explorer with -portfolio, he finds new planets and begins arranging diplomatic -relations with them."</p> - -<p>"With all the planets in the galaxy, why did he have to stumble on -Targoff?"</p> - -<p>"Ask Nick."</p> - -<p>"Don't mind me, Julie. Just letting off steam." Channing pushed -through the door marked UNDER SECRETARY FOR EXTRA-SOLAR AFFAIRS. Mrs. -Delacourt paced back and forth like a fat lion which had learned to -walk on its hind legs and grown soft in the process, but was still -dangerous.</p> - -<p>"State's out," she said, bristling. "I had to see someone."</p> - -<p>"What's it about this time?" Channing demanded wearily. If he kept -this up, he would be out of a job in record time. Of all the Cabinet -portfolios, Health and P. W. was the one you had to bend over backwards -to please. The Secretary was usually a bridge-partner and friend of -the First Lady. Her assistant might have been the wife of a five-star -general or at least a Congressman. Delacourt—anyway the name wasn't -familiar. "I'm sorry," said Channing. "Bad night. Can I help you?"</p> - -<p>"I doubt it, Mr. Channing. As you know, litigation moves swiftly these -days. Are you aware of the case of Myers versus Myers?"</p> - -<p>"No, m'am." Before you knew it, it might be Channing versus Channing.</p> - -<p>"You should be. When Sylvanus Myers died, he left an estate valued at -three million dollars. He cut the widow off with almost nothing and -left the bulk of his wealth to his—uh, child."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid I don't see the connection."</p> - -<p>"This child was purchased from Qui Dor. Child, indeed. Mrs. Sylvanus' -attorneys brought suit, maintaining that since the Sylvanus child did -not exist, he could not legally inherit the estate. Do you follow, Mr. -Channing?"</p> - -<p>And, after Channing lit his pipe and nodded: "They weighed the Myers -baby. They examined him. They pointed out he had a set of unique -fingerprints, like a person. They showed his retinal pattern was -both distinct and unique, as well as his electro-encephalogram. -Child psychologists tested him and found him normal in every -way. He perspires and passes his water and—forgive me, Mr. -Channing—defecates." Mrs. Delacourt took the whole thing as a personal -insult, as if, in finding that the Myers child functioned normally, the -doctors had somehow deflated not only the entire human race but Mrs. -Delacourt as well.</p> - -<p>Half listening and half wondering if he had presented the same -ridiculous picture to Ellen the night before, Channing said, "Go on, -Mrs. Delacourt."</p> - -<p>"The Myers child had been born, created or made to exist in the State -of New Jersey. The Myers child therefore was adjudged a citizen after -his attorneys had invoked the Fourteenth Amendment. Do you understand -what that means, Mr. Channing?"</p> - -<p>"I guess it means the Myers child will get his inheritance."</p> - -<p>"It means much more than that. It set a precedent. Qui Dor creations -have equal rights before the law, Mr. Channing. They can sue, they can -vote, they can hold office, they can—"</p> - -<p>"I can't see the harm in that."</p> - -<p>"It encourages more of them. If you leave a fortune and want it spent -a certain way, the Qui Dor Enterprises will create precisely the -individual you want as an heir. It encourages crime, Mr. Channing. The -Qui Dor Enterprises can create an individual for you to commit a crime. -He'll do the job, you'll return him, he'll cease to exist—"</p> - -<p>"And you'd be guilty as an accessory."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Mrs. Delacourt shook her head. "No, you wouldn't. I have looked into -the legality of the matter. That would be like admitting there were -such things as pre-natal influence. The Qui Dor creation, whether child -or full grown, is a citizen with all a citizen's rights, and since -we don't recognize the possibility of pre-natal influence, we don't -recognize the real criminal in such a case as an accessory."</p> - -<p>"It's not the same thing."</p> - -<p>"In the eyes of the law, I fear it is."</p> - -<p>"But if you return a—a citizen to Qui Dor and the citizen ceases to -exist because he's no longer needed for the job—it does work that way, -doesn't it, Mrs. Delacourt?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Then you'd be guilty of murder, taking the life away from the Qui Dor -creation, I mean. It's complicated."</p> - -<p>"No, it isn't. It's simple. You'd be guilty of nothing. <i>Esse es -percipi</i>, Mr. Channing. No one's been murdered. There's no corpse. No -one exists."</p> - -<p>"I give up," said Channing. "Mrs. Delacourt, I can sympathize with you. -For personal reasons, I can understand your problem. But right now -there isn't a thing I can do about it. However, I'm going to see Qui -Dor this morning and possibly something can be arranged to your mutual -satisfaction."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Delacourt had hardly heard him. "Yet <i>esse</i> should be more than -<i>percipi</i>," she was mumbling. "There should be more to existing than -merely being perceived, don't you think? It would all be so—so empty, -so meaningless that way. They can make any legal decision they wish: I -am more than something which is seen or touched or ... or tasted. Not -merely myself, Mr. Channing. The people. All the people. You. Are you -only the various qualities of sense, an image in my mind, an idea? Are -you?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," Channing admitted.</p> - -<p>"If you are, if we all are, it's a sinister plot against the people. -Civilization is ruined. Qui Dor's creations shall surely take over. -Why, before you know it, women will stop having babies. No pain, no -nuisance, no chance of congenital illness."</p> - -<p>"I know exactly what you mean," Channing declared ruefully. "I've got -to see Qui Dor, though, Mrs. Delacourt."</p> - -<p>"Call me and let me know. Oh, do call me and tell me you've sent him -packing."</p> - -<p>"Remember Deneb, m'am. I'll do my best."</p> - -<p>A few moments later, a furious Nicholson telio'd Channing and informed -him that the New York State Junior League was lobbying Congress to pass -a law nullifying diplomatic relations with Targoff. That was the root -of the evil, they said. The planet itself. We want nothing to do with -them. We don't want our children associating with images. Channing -swore in silent desperation. You couldn't argue with the Junior League. -Qui Dor Enterprises was lowering the standard of living more and more -every day, not maliciously, certainly, but lowering it nevertheless. -Divorce, malnutrition, illness, crime, decreased birth rate, domestic -squabbles....</p> - -<p>Which immediately suggested a hopeful but abortive attempt at -reconciliation with Ellen. Yes, she was busy. Of course she had kept -Stephanie. What was the matter with him, anyway? He could hear the girl -wailing, couldn't he? She was so helpless. She had to be cared for. -Where was his sense of responsibility? Well, yes, she still loved him, -but not if he were going to maintain his pig-headed attitude toward -their daughter. What? Yes their daughter. He heard her. Click and -fadeout of the picture of his wife, bunting in one hand and a squealing -infant with obvious quiddity but questionable essence in the other.</p> - -<p>Three quarters of an hour later he stormed into Qui Dor's office on -the top floor of an old office building which had been converted into -the Targoffian Embassy in the days before anyone anticipated anything -but a casual interchange of cultural trivia between the Targoffians -and Earthmen. He cooled his heels in the reception room, fighting -back an impulse to ask the too-pretty, too-courteous, too-efficient -receptionist if she were real. By the time he was admitted to Qui Dor's -sanctum sanctorum he presented, at least on the surface, the unruffled -appearance of a diplomat on a routine state call.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Bryan Channing, is it not? You see, I have learned your language with -no great difficulty."</p> - -<p>In Channing's job, you had to forget human standards. The office -was large, with a high-vaulted ceiling where the insulating space -beneath the building's roof had been exposed. There were two or three -comfortable chairs which would fit Channing. There was a big sign -beyond Qui Dor's massive desk, blocking the window and the view of -other skyscrapers. It said QUI DOR ENTERPRISES—WE SELL ANYTHING. It -faced into the room, and with it as a back-drop, Qui Dor looked like -anything but an interstellar ambassador.</p> - -<p>Qui Dor was a dozen feet tall and neither reptilian nor mammalian. He -defied classification in any terrestrial system, but with the feathery -covering, hard, protruding, pointed lips and round, small, jet-black -eyes, looked most nearly bird-like. The thin legs added to the -illusion; the three sets of thin arms dispelled it.</p> - -<p>"I haven't seen you since that day I showed you around the city after -Nicholson introduced us," Channing began, settling himself comfortably -in a chair and wishing he didn't have to stare at the sign behind Qui -Dor's feathery back.</p> - -<p>"You were a most gracious host, Mr. Channing. But now I suspect your -visit is of an entirely different nature."</p> - -<p>"Well, yes. Yes, it is."</p> - -<p>"I see that you are in danger of falling from Scylla into Charybdis, -as it is said in your literature. You needn't mince words with me. You -understand, I have my informants." The black eyes twinkled merrily, the -crest atop the long, narrow head stirred.</p> - -<p><i>I'll bet they're from Deneb</i>, Channing wanted to say. This was a -pretty pickle, with the Denebians sitting somewhere out of sight and -chuckling over the whole thing. Why couldn't Nick have been even more -myopic—near-sighted enough to miss Targoff entirely?</p> - -<p>"There is no limit to what I can give your people," said Qui Dor. "Next -week we are opening a line of jewelry, as you may know. It is cheaper -than what you can get in your mines."</p> - -<p>South Africa, here comes disaster. "Artificial jewels?" demanded -Channing.</p> - -<p>"No, not artificial."</p> - -<p>"Natural?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Real?"</p> - -<p>"Decidedly. What is real, Mr. Channing?"</p> - -<p>"Well—but suppose you tell me. You're the man who's livened interest -in the British Empiricists after they'd been all but forgotten except -by students of philosophy."</p> - -<p>"What are you, Mr. Channing? That is, what makes you real?"</p> - -<p>"Umm, let me see. The chemicals. Yes, the chemicals of which my body is -composed. And a soul, whatever that is. If there is such a thing."</p> - -<p>"But are you really chemicals? That is, are the chemicals real?"</p> - -<p>"I don't follow you."</p> - -<p>"Like everything else, these chemicals have qualities. In solids, they -have size, shape, weight, bulk. Similar properties in liquid and gas. -On a secondary scale, they have color, taste, odor. On a tertiary one, -they can do things. They react. They behave as expected from a study of -the primary and secondary qualities. Now do you follow me?"</p> - -<p>"I think so."</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry to begin our discussion this way. I feel I know what your -problem is, but I'm starting at the beginning. Do you mind?"</p> - -<p>"Not at all." Mrs. Delacourt would be very unhappy.</p> - -<p>"Who is Mrs. Delacourt?"</p> - -<p>"Eh?" Channing cried. "I didn't say anything."</p> - -<p>"Your thoughts have such qualities too, Mr. Channing."</p> - -<p>"You mean you can read my mind?"</p> - -<p>"I can perceive it, as you can perceive color. To continue: we of -Targoff maintain that no thing in itself is real. Things only have -existence as their various qualities are perceived. When you leave this -room, as far as I am concerned, you do not exist."</p> - -<p>"A man named Hume went a step further than that," Channing told Qui Dor -with a smile. "After disposing of the world in such summary fashion, -he also disposed of you and me and everyone. The mind which perceived -these qualities, he said, was nothing more than a collection—he -used the word collocation, I think—of the qualities. So you have -non-existent external things on the one hand and a non-existent mind on -the other. The second nothing somehow gets images of the first nothing, -and that's the sum total of the world."</p> - -<p>"Interesting," said Qui Dor, ruffling his crest with a three-fingered -hand, "but hardly practical. You see, Mr. Channing, our theories work. -We can create your collocations of qualities to order. We can even give -a man immortality."</p> - -<p>"How can you do that?"</p> - -<p>"Why, by recreating his qualities down to the last atomic detail when -he dies."</p> - -<p>"You wouldn't," said Channing.</p> - -<p>"Not here, not yet. Someday, perhaps."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to be blunt, but you're playing hob with the whole -structure of our society."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Three sets of arms spread out before Channing in a very human gesture. -"We call it progress, don't you see?"</p> - -<p>"But that's interfering with the internal affairs of another planet."</p> - -<p>"Is it? We're not foisting anything on you. What we sell is exactly as -claimed. There is no compulsory—"</p> - -<p>"But how many people can resist?"</p> - -<p>"How many <i>should</i>, Mr. Channing?"</p> - -<p>"How do we know what you're creating is real, or permanent? I'll tell -you this, sir: you're in trouble if it's all an illusion."</p> - -<p>"My dear Mr. Channing, I'm surprised at you. Your culture has created -or accepted—or that strange combination of both which is the -religious zeal—a First Principle, a Prime Mover, a deity culturally -endowed with the ability to create. Your culture then supposes this -deity did his creating once, long ago, and now is content to rest -through all eternity. I say the first half of it is anthropomorphic -wish-fulfillment. I say the second is a lack of cultural imagination."</p> - -<p>"Are you calling yourself a deity?" Channing shuddered at the -possibility. Along with Health and P. W. and Ellen, every church on -Earth might soon be clamoring for his scalp.</p> - -<p>"Yes and no. Why create—or accept—the godhood if you have the power -yourself? No wish-fulfillment was involved. And we never stopped -creating."</p> - -<p>"Are you trying to tell me that you ... that you can actually, well, -create things out of air?"</p> - -<p>"Out of nothing, Mr. Channing. For we create nothing. We merely -establish your Mr. Hume's collocation of qualities around any desired -pattern. We do not admit the existence of the external world, so we are -not bothered about creating parts of it. You understand?"</p> - -<p>"How do you do it?"</p> - -<p>"We do it."</p> - -<p>"Where will you stop?"</p> - -<p>Qui Dor made the shrugging gesture again. "I see that the problem is a -domestic one for you as well. Here." He reached into a drawer of his -desk and produced a diamond-studded tiara.</p> - -<p>Channing touched it gingerly, as if the many-faceted gems might burn -his fingers. "Was this there a minute ago?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"It was there when I opened the drawer and looked for it. It is there -now, when you are touching it. But put it back in the drawer, Mr. -Channing."</p> - -<p>Channing did so. Qui Dor shut the drawer.</p> - -<p>"Now where is it?" the Targoffian Ambassador demanded.</p> - -<p>"In the drawer."</p> - -<p>"Indeed? How do you know?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I—suppose I don't know."</p> - -<p>"Open the drawer, if you please."</p> - -<p>Channing did, and found the tiara. "See?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but what about when the drawer was shut? I admit, it's a -difficult concept to grasp at once. You see, we of Targoff are not -interested whether the tiara exists when someone is not actively -perceiving it or not. It exists when existence becomes a necessary -quality for it. It's a Monday, Wednesday, Friday concept, Mr. Channing. -Your mind can grasp it only at times, and perhaps even then flittingly. -Like the ontological proof for the existence of your God: by -definition. He is an infinitely perfect Being. Since existence is one -of the qualities of infinite perfection, He exists. Do I make myself -clear?"</p> - -<p>"No-o."</p> - -<p>"Here. Take the tiara to your wife. My compliments. Things will work -out for you, Mr. Channing."</p> - -<p>"I came here to work out some compromise with you," Channing said, -pocketing the tiara, then feeling foolish and placing it back on the -desk, then deciding that would be quite undiplomatic and pocketing it -again while Qui Dor's round eyes fairly sparkled. "Instead, I find -myself being lectured on the philosophy behind the trouble. That -doesn't help."</p> - -<p>"You're confused, Mr. Channing. When I said things will work out for -you, I meant it. More I cannot tell you, except to say the matter is -entirely up to you. I should have said things can work out for you. I'm -sorry if this sounds cryptic, but I can tell you no more. Incidentally, -I'm sure your wife will like the tiara."</p> - -<p>It did sound cryptic. Channing did not know if Qui Dor was sorry. -Channing was sorry.</p> - -<p>Maybe he'd be better off giving the tiara to Mrs. Delacourt.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When Channing could make only a negative report to Mrs. Delacourt, -the wheels began their spinning. Health and P. W. tendered a frosty -ultimatum which he was forced to ignore because he lacked policy-making -authority. Someone bent the First Lady's ear, who in turn bent the -President's. When State himself returned from India with a redder face -but no answers, he received a verbal whipping and almost achesonian -condemnation in the press. Clearly, he needed a scapegoat.</p> - -<p>While State was being chastized by the President, the scapegoat was -home in Center Moriches, determined to rescue something from the -sinking ship of life. He'd effect a reconciliation with Ellen and they -could debate the ultimate disposition of little Stephanie at some -later date.</p> - -<p>A savory aroma assailed his nostrils from the kitchen. He found Ellen -there, scurrying from pot to pot, a determined look on her face, a -stray lock of chestnut hair loose over one eye.</p> - -<p>"Chicken cacciatore," he said, breathing deeply. "Hey now, we haven't -had that at home in a long time."</p> - -<p>"Too long," said Ellen, stirring the delicious contents of a large pot. -"A girl can make mistakes, dear. Smell good?"</p> - -<p>"Wonderful."</p> - -<p>"I knew you'd listen to reason. I just knew it."</p> - -<p>"Well, I'm a reasonable guy." What was she talking about? he wondered.</p> - -<p>"That's why I married you. Taste?"</p> - -<p>"No. I'll wait till it's on the table."</p> - -<p>"Stephanie's gained another pound."</p> - -<p>"That's—uh, fine."</p> - -<p>"I must say, you don't seem as enthused about her as you did before."</p> - -<p>"Before?"</p> - -<p>"This morning."</p> - -<p>He had been in his office all morning, taking the afternoon off to come -home. "What did I say?" Funny, he did not remember calling her.</p> - -<p>"You know what you said."</p> - -<p>"Honest, I don't."</p> - -<p>"Say, are you planning to renege or something?"</p> - -<p>"Ellen, something's screwy. I don't remember calling you this morning."</p> - -<p>"That's because you didn't, dear."</p> - -<p>"But you said I said—"</p> - -<p>"Are you trying to be funny?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"You were here all morning. You weren't gone more than an hour when you -came back."</p> - -<p>"I—came back?"</p> - -<p>"Of course."</p> - -<p>"I did not."</p> - -<p>"Are you trying to stand there and tell me we didn't have a long talk -this morning in Stephanie's room? Are you trying to stand there and -tell me we didn't decide to keep Stephanie and maybe even get her a -little brother in a year or so?"</p> - -<p>"What's got into you? I never said anything of the kind."</p> - -<p>"Bryan Channing! If you're joking, I don't find it so funny."</p> - -<p>"Neither do I. I'm not joking."</p> - -<p>"I—I hate you...."</p> - -<p>"One of us had better see the doctor," said Channing, placing his hands -on Ellen's shoulders and bending forward to kiss the whisps of hair at -the nape of her neck. "Maybe you'd like to go away to the country for a -while."</p> - -<p>"Don't you kiss me."</p> - -<p>"What's the matter now?"</p> - -<p>"You changed your mind. You're trying to lie your way out of it."</p> - -<p>"I'll call Dr. Flint."</p> - -<p>"You'll go out someplace and eat supper, you mean." Off the range came -the pot of chicken cacciatore, its delightful contents landed into the -garbage disposal unit.</p> - -<p>"Ellen!"</p> - -<p>But only a stiff back answered him, and presently even that disappeared -when a sudden wail from the direction of the nursery summoned it, armed -with bottle and burp-rag.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Nicholson met him in the waiting room of his office. "You sure went and -put your foot in it," the explorer said.</p> - -<p>"When did I do what?"</p> - -<p>"Telling the Denebian Ambassador how Qui Dor was snafuing everything -and why we couldn't do a thing about it. If they don't take away your -explorer's papers too, you're always welcome on my ship, Bryan."</p> - -<p>"I didn't even see the Denebian Ambassador."</p> - -<p>"That's not what Julie says."</p> - -<p>Julie looked up from her desk in exasperation. "You're still the boss, -so maybe I shouldn't talk like this, but honestly chief, how could you?"</p> - -<p>"Damnit! How could I what?"</p> - -<p>"I almost fainted when that, that monster from Deneb walked in here. -You always tell me to keep the intercom open when you have an important -visitor and take everything down in shorthand. So I did. Then you -walked out of your office with the Denebian Ambassador, smiling and -practically holding hands—if you call what he's got a hand."</p> - -<p>"I went home around midday. I never saw the gentleman from Deneb."</p> - -<p>"You use the word gentleman loosely," said Nicholson. "And unadvisedly."</p> - -<p>It was then that State stormed in, his face almost mauve. "Channing, -pack your junk. You're fired."</p> - -<p>"Now, wait a minute—"</p> - -<p>"Miss Marshall here had the good sense to send me a transcript of your -little meeting. Of all the achesonian gall...."</p> - -<p>"Who, me?"</p> - -<p>"Fired. Out. Now."</p> - -<p>"But what am I supposed to have done?"</p> - -<p>State pulled some papers from the inside pocket of his jacket. "Here, -you rat. Try page three."</p> - -<p>Channing took the papers and turned to the third page. He read:</p> - -<p>CHANNING: Exactly what I was saying.</p> - -<p>DENEBIAN AMBASSADOR: Then we ought to bide our time?</p> - -<p>CHAN: Sure. Right now, Earth's becoming the laughingstock of the -galaxy. And later on it will be worse.</p> - -<p>D. A.: That's only conjecture, of course.</p> - -<p>CHAN: But it makes sense. Not tomorrow or the day after that, but, say, -in a hundred years, Earth will be finished. For one thing, the birth -rate will drop off tremendously. People will stop working, because Qui -Dor can give them anything they want.</p> - -<p>D. A.: Then we'll make threatening gestures.</p> - -<p>CHAN: Right. And Qui Dor will supply Earth with armaments.</p> - -<p>D. A.: At the last moment, the armaments will vanish. Earth, committed -to war with us, will be helpless.</p> - -<p>CHAN: It's my understanding that not <i>all</i> of Qui Dor's creations will -vanish when that happens.</p> - -<p>D. A.: That is correct.</p> - -<p>CHAN: Are we talking about the same thing?</p> - -<p>D. A.: I think so. Would you like some lunch, Channing?</p> - -<p>CHAN: Yes, but first I believe we ought to take a look at—</p> - -<p>"Hold it!" Channing cried as State took the papers from him. "Let me -see the rest of it."</p> - -<p>"You've seen enough. Hell, you were right there. I thought I ought -to tell you we're going to see the Attorney General about possible -prosecution for espionage. Now get out of here."</p> - -<p>State was still mauve when Channing left. Nick was shaking his head. -Julie clucked her tongue, trying to dilute outrage with sympathy.</p> - -<p>For Channing, it was all some senseless nightmare. First Ellen, then -State, Julie and Nick. He took the slidestair down to the street -and the brisk autumn air cleared the confusion from his head so -that he knew; for the first time clearly, that he was out of a job -and—temporarily at best—out of a wife. If Qui Dor had seen all this -coming, Qui Dor had not mentioned it. But Channing suspected Qui Dor's -ability to read minds depended on close range perception. Besides, Qui -Dor had made it plain he would tell Channing nothing more than he had -disclosed at their original interview.</p> - -<p>Which left Channing one remaining avenue of information.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Is the spacesuit adjusted satisfactory, sir?" The Denebian lacky said -un-gramatically, his stentorian voice booming above the static of his -own spacesuit radio.</p> - -<p>"Yes," Channing told him.</p> - -<p>The small saurian creature stood on a platform and dropped a -plexi-glass helmet in place over Channing's head. Air hissed in and -Channing asked: "Can you hear me?"</p> - -<p>"Most assured, sir. The radio is fine."</p> - -<p>Denebians breathed a mixture of methane and ammonia and looked enough -like pint-sized dragons to make Channing wonder if there had even been -some contact between the races in the obscure pages of pre-history.</p> - -<p>"Sarchix will see you now."</p> - -<p>Channing was led into an airlock in what had been the old -Crowell-Collier building and was now the Denebian Embassy, a -hermetically sealed skyscrapper in which most of the rooms and -corridors reproduced the environmental conditions of the Denebian -planet. Air was pumped from the little chamber; methane and ammonia -took its place. When a light flashed red over a bolted door at the far -end of the chamber, Channing opened it and walked through.</p> - -<p>"Is anything wrong?" Sarchix demanded. The Denebian Ambassador was -barely four feet tall, a chunky, fore-shortened dragon with diminutive -arms, an outthrust snout, legs like thick, armor-plated columns and a -balancing tail which trailed and tapered behind and was, Channing knew, -a potent weapon. A dragon on Chinese New Year's Day or Tyrannosaurus -Rex in miniature.</p> - -<p>"Why should something be wrong?" Channing said as the Denebian waved -an almost-atrophied forearm at a couch. At least, the arm looked -atrophied. It wasn't. Channing had seen how dexterously the Denebian -lacky had fastened the spacesuit helmet.</p> - -<p>"Well, you visit me so soon after our meeting."</p> - -<p>It was no conspiracy. Channing breathed a sigh of relief, reclined on -the couch as was the Denebian custom, and said: "I merely want to go -over some of our plans." The Denebian Ambassador and the Department of -State could not be working together to drive Channing insane. And Ellen -did not fit into the picture at all.</p> - -<p>Somewhere, there was a <i>second</i> Bryan Channing.</p> - -<p>"But we hardly have any plans, Channing. All we have to do is wait. You -said so yourself. Your job is only to keep us informed."</p> - -<p>"I have some bad news, then. I was fired."</p> - -<p>"Eh?"</p> - -<p>"That is, Bryan Channing was fired from his job today. His secretary -overheard our conversation and sent a transcript of it to the Secretary -of State."</p> - -<p>"That is too bad," Sarchix admitted. "We could use a man in your -position. Tell me, Channing, are you prepared to play the Channing role -completely?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Yes, I am."</p> - -<p>"Then we still have a chance. Let the secret out. There is a real -Channing and an <i>es percipi</i> Channing. You have his appearance, -his fingerprints, his memories. Reveal him as a traitor, a Qui Dor -creation. Then you can have the game as well as the name."</p> - -<p>"In other words—"</p> - -<p>"In other words, two Bryan Channings are a nuisance, anyway. You would -undoubtedly make a blunder sooner or later, or Channing himself will -discover the fact. Beat him to the punch, find him in some awkward -situation and prove your point. Of course he'll claim he's the real -Channing. Naturally, he'll have Channing's memory and Channing's -fingerprints, as you have. But if you can accuse him and prove your -point, I daresay you'll find your job waiting for you again. Keep me -abreast of all developments, Channing." Sarchix spoke English with -hardly a trace of accent but with all the banal idiomatic expressions. -"Say, it's a pretty good deal for you, anyway. I hear Channing's -wife—your wife—is quite a looker by human standards."</p> - -<p>"She is," said Channing, glowering. The <i>es percipi</i> Channing had -been contrite with Ellen. Regarding Stephanie, he had surrendered -unconditionally. The dirty so-and-so might even have explored the art -of love-making with her, especially if he knew all the little secrets -Channing knew—which he did—and wanted to employ them to convince his -brand new wife of his old status.</p> - -<p>"Well, good luck to you, Channing," said the Denebian Ambassador. "By -the way, you left your briefcase here after lunch."</p> - -<p>Channing spotted a duplicate of his own briefcase on the floor near -Sarchix's couch. He was about to retrieve it when a buzzer sounded and -the Denebian Ambassador spoke into a microphone in the wall.</p> - -<p>Channing could not understand the language and waited politely until -the conversation had ended. He stooped for the briefcase.</p> - -<p>"Wait a moment, if you please," Sarchix told him. "Bryan Channing has -returned to get his briefcase."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Oh," said Channing in desperation. "Oh."</p> - -<p>"I was thinking precisely the same thing. If the second Channing has -returned for his briefcase, then he was the Channing who visited me -before. You see, he knew about the missing briefcase. You did not."</p> - -<p>"That's ridiculous," Channing blurted. "I know who I am."</p> - -<p>"Who are you?"</p> - -<p>"I'm not Bryan Channing. I'm the copy. And I can prove it."</p> - -<p>"Yes? How?"</p> - -<p>"By telling you what's inside the briefcase." It was a gamble, -Channing knew. But in all probability, the interior as well as the -exterior of the case had been duplicated.</p> - -<p>"But he knew, Channing. He knew. Well, we shall see. By now the airlock -should have been adjusted for our atmosphere. There...."</p> - -<p>The door opened. In walked Bryan Channing, face clearly visible in the -plexi-glass of the helmet.</p> - -<p>The two Channings stared at each other.</p> - -<p>"My Lord!" cried the newcomer. "Have they made <i>another</i> copy?"</p> - -<p>"I'm the only copy," Channing said. "You're a fake. That is, you're -real."</p> - -<p>"He's lying," said the bona fide copy. "He must be Channing himself."</p> - -<p>"Sure," said Channing. "So I barged in here to let Sarchix know I was -aware of the copy. That doesn't make sense and you know it."</p> - -<p>"<i>I</i> know who <i>I</i> am, Channing. Therefore I know you're the real thing."</p> - -<p>"Is that so?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"One moment, please," the Denebian Ambassador said. "I think we can -settle this."</p> - -<p>"How?" said Channing.</p> - -<p>"I will call Qui Dor."</p> - -<p>"Since I'm a perfect copy," Channing pointed out glibly, "he won't be -able to tell."</p> - -<p>"Who's a perfect copy? I'm a perfect copy."</p> - -<p>"True enough," said Sarchix. "He won't be able to tell by any -examination. But he can will the copy out of existence, leaving the -real Channing. Then he can make a new copy."</p> - -<p>"He can do what?" the copy cried. "Nothing doing. If he wills me out of -existence and makes a new one, it won't be the same thing. I won't be -me. I'll cease to exist. I don't care about any new copy. I care about -myself."</p> - -<p>"You see," Channing said, "he's looking for excuses."</p> - -<p>"It's all well and good for you to say that," the copy told Channing. -"You have nothing to lose."</p> - -<p>"Unfortunately," Sarchix explained, "you both stand to lose. The -original copy will cease to be, as the Channing on my left has pointed -out. But after the little experiment, Channing himself will have to be -eliminated. Now, if the two of you will wait inside while I call Qui -Dor...?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They went into another room and paced together, five steps up and -five back. They glared at each other. They made threatening gestures. -Channing's brain was awhirl with ideas, all of them bad. The copy would -cease to be. Channing would be destroyed. A new copy would take both -their places. This was impossible. First he had to prove himself not -himself. He had neither succeeded nor failed. Now he stood to lose, as -the Denebian Ambassador had said, no matter which Channing he was.</p> - -<p>"Hey, you," he said finally.</p> - -<p>"Me?"</p> - -<p>"There's no one else here."</p> - -<p>"What do you want?"</p> - -<p>"Let's say, hypothetically of course, that you're the copy and I'm the -real Channing."</p> - -<p>"Hypothetically," said the copy. "Hypothetically, he says."</p> - -<p>"Let's say Qui Dor gets here and wills you out of existence. Then -Sarchix has me killed and a new Channing is made. What happens to you?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing, thanks to you. I just don't exist any longer."</p> - -<p>"What happens to me?"</p> - -<p>"At least you get what's coming to you. You're killed."</p> - -<p>"Right. If we stay here, we've both had it, and you know it."</p> - -<p>"Umm, yes. So?"</p> - -<p>"So let's get the hell out of here."</p> - -<p>"But if I leave I admit I'm not the copy. I <i>am</i> the copy."</p> - -<p>"If you stay and Qui Dor proves you are the copy, you'll be destroyed -in the process. If he proves you're not, they'll kill you. Go ahead and -stay."</p> - -<p>"At least why can't you admit it to me now?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know what you're talking about," Channing said. "I figured -you were still making believe you're the copy in case Sarchix had a -microphone in this room."</p> - -<p>"So that's it."</p> - -<p>"I guess that's it. Want to come?"</p> - -<p>"Where do we go? This is a crazy situation. We can't work together."</p> - -<p>"I know that. I have in mind a temporary truce, just until we can get -out of here. After that, the fake Channing better get off Earth and get -off fast. If they find him he'll be eliminated. But it seems to me he -ought to do the real Channing a favor."</p> - -<p>"What do you want me to do?"</p> - -<p>"No, friend, it's what I want to do for you."</p> - -<p>"I'm the copy!"</p> - -<p>"Never mind," said Channing. "It seems to me the fake Channing, -whichever one of us is the fake Channing, ought to visit a few people -with the real Channing and straighten things out for him. Agreed?"</p> - -<p>"Let me think about it," said the copy. It was inevitable that he would -come to approximately the same conclusion. They had identical minds. -But, Channing thought vaguely, if he wanted to use the copy to help him -out of a couple of man-sized jams, he had to assume the copy would be -quite willing and eager to use him in the same way. He'd have to watch -himself.</p> - -<p>"All right," the copy finally said. "We'd better get out of here, -Channing."</p> - -<p>Sarchix met them at the door. A Channing on either side of him, they -grasped the diminutive arms firmly and carried him back into his own -office. The ponderous tail lashed out to left and right. Channings fell -like tenpins. But before Sarchix could reach his microphone for help, -the two Channings were up again and at him, avoiding the wild-swinging -tail, circling him warily for position and never once getting in each -other's way.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Denebian draperies bound the arms and legs. They let the tail thump -the floor resoundingly. The stentorian voice thundered, but the -hermetically sealed room was also quite sound-proof.</p> - -<p>The two Channings chucked their spacesuits in the ante-room and took -the elevator marked FOR HUMANS ONLY—DENEBIANS MUST USE SPACESUITS. On -the street, people stopped to stare at the identical twins, who even -dressed alike, and at their age.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Don't be alarmed, Ellen. Turn around."</p> - -<p>"Go away from me, Bryan Channing. I don't want to—Bryan! Bryan! Who's -Bryan?"</p> - -<p>"I'm Bryan, of course," said the copy, advancing with a sincere smile -and adding, "How's our little Stephanie?"</p> - -<p>"Just a minute!" Channing roared. "I'm me. He's—"</p> - -<p>"I see it now," Ellen mumbled. "I see it. I do. One of you, one is -a ... a creation. One of Qui Dor's creations." Her face was drawn and -white. "How long has this been going on?" She backed away from the -second Channing, who was trying to oust the first from her arms. She -backed away from both of them.</p> - -<p>"So that's your plan," Channing said. "If only one of us could stay you -figured it might as well be you."</p> - -<p>"Stop projecting."</p> - -<p>Full circle, thought Channing in despair. Now they both wanted to prove -they were real.</p> - -<p>"Nuts to both of you," Ellen said. "The way you've been acting lately, -how do I know you're both not fake?"</p> - -<p>They looked at each other, the two Channings. They looked at her. They -smiled.</p> - -<p>"Go ahead and laugh. Go ahead and.... Bryan, Bryan, why did this have -to happen to us?"</p> - -<p>"That's all right now, dear," the copy said.</p> - -<p>"You take your hands off her."</p> - -<p>"You mind your own bushiness."</p> - -<p>"Listen," Channing said to his wife. "Do you think I'd want you to keep -that—that girl inside?"</p> - -<p>"You said—"</p> - -<p>"He wouldn't want you to keep Stephanie," the copy said. "He'd be -jealous of any other copy or any other person, not really knowing how -deep your affection is. I want to keep Stephanie, however. You decide, -dear."</p> - -<p>"I didn't want to keep her all along," Channing shouted. "At least that -should prove I'm me. Maybe you don't like it, but that's me, that's the -man you married."</p> - -<p>"Listen to that, will you?" the copy said scornfully. "Not two weeks -old yet, and already he's getting presumptuous."</p> - -<p>"There!" cried Channing. "How would he know the copy's age, unless he's -it?"</p> - -<p>"From when all the complications started," the copy told him blandly.</p> - -<p>"Leave me out of this," Ellen pleaded. "I'm all confused. I don't want -both of you, I want my husband. I don't even care if he's angry about -Stephanie, I just want him."</p> - -<p>"I'm not angry—" began the copy.</p> - -<p>"That's enough, you." Channing grabbed his arm firmly and steered him -from the house. "There are other ways to settle this."</p> - -<p>"Like what?"</p> - -<p>"Like you'll see. First of all, we'd better get our job back. Then, I'm -beginning to get an idea."</p> - -<p>"I don't think I'd like it."</p> - -<p>"You wouldn't."</p> - -<p>"I'm beginning to get an idea too."</p> - -<p>"I guess I wouldn't like that, either."</p> - -<p>"You'd hate it."</p> - -<p>"At least everything's frank and above board."</p> - -<p>"For the time being."</p> - -<p>"Even that's frank."</p> - -<p>"Well, here's my copter."</p> - -<p>"I'm going to poke you in the nose. It's <i>my</i> copter."</p> - -<p>But two identical copters were parked side by side on the landing -strip. They both had been using copter-cabs all day.</p> - -<p>"Suppose we just use one."</p> - -<p>"Climb in."</p> - -<p>"Where to?"</p> - -<p>"You said you had an idea."</p> - -<p>"I said we'd better get our job back," Channing told his copy. "The -idea can wait."</p> - -<p>"So can mine."</p> - -<p>They took off, rose into the traffic lane and headed for New York. -It was, Channing was the first to admit, one heck of a complicated -situation.</p> - -<p>The robot pilot settled their argument about which Channing should do -the driving.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"All right, all right," State said, mopping his brow. "One of you is -Channing and one of you isn't. We can't seem to get at the truth right -now, however. I take it you want your job back."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said the copy.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Channing.</p> - -<p>"Do I give it to both of you? Is your salary doubled?"</p> - -<p>"Pretend there is only one," suggested the copy. "Give us one salary. -We'll work out our own problem."</p> - -<p>"I can't do that, either. One of you is a traitor."</p> - -<p>"I've got an idea for you, chief," Channing said. "To your way of -thinking, what's a pretty good definition of intelligence?"</p> - -<p>"Intelligence? I don't see ... well, it's an ability—yes, an ability -to adjust yourself in a rational way to adverse environmental -conditions. How's that?"</p> - -<p>"That's fine," Channing smiled. "You now have the opportunity to do -that, to meet the situation rationally. It will be quite a feather in -your cap, chief. What are the adverse conditions? Well, first there's -the Targoffian Ambassador and what he's doing. Second, there are the -two Bryan Channings. Stop me if I'm wrong: the combination threatens -the security of Earth—and threatens your job. That is, you've got to -come up with a solution which will satisfy everyone including Health -and P. W., and the President is not going to sit on his hands forever."</p> - -<p>"I'm listening."</p> - -<p>"Doesn't it strike you as odd that Qui Dor should bother to create a -second Bryan Channing?"</p> - -<p>"Why odd?"</p> - -<p>"If Qui Dor were going about his business in an objective way, -interested only in carrying the fruits of his own culture to Earth, -why would he need a spy? And here's something you don't know: when -the Denebian Ambassador was confronted with two of us, he immediately -contacted Qui Dor. They know each other, chief. It proves they're -working together."</p> - -<p>State glowed. "If we can substantiate that, we'll have Sarchix just -where we want him. We'd also have an excuse to break off diplomatic -relations with Targoff. But can you prove it, Channing? That is, if -you're Channing."</p> - -<p>"We can try. I think my double will verify this: the Denebian -Ambassador claimed Qui Dor could tell us apart by willing the copy out -of existence."</p> - -<p>State looked at the copy for confirmation.</p> - -<p>"Yes, that's true. But I don't think I like what's on your mind."</p> - -<p>State nodded. "All right, I'll buy that. But what did you mean when you -said Qui Dor could will the copy out of existence?"</p> - -<p>"The Targoffians maintain that the real world isn't—real. It seems -to work for them, so we can let it go at that. Apparently their -creations are mental projections, akin to extra sensory perception, -perhaps—although this is creation, not perception. If Qui Dor thinks a -copy doesn't exist, it doesn't."</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute," protested the copy. "They were going to will the copy -out of existence, then destroy the real Channing, then create a third -one."</p> - -<p>"Not if we conduct the experiment on our own terms," Channing -explained. "We'll be able to protect the real Channing. You see, -whichever one of us is real has nothing to worry about."</p> - -<p>The copy stared mute murder at Channing, then wilted almost visibly -when State decided: "That sounds fair enough to me. How soon would you -like us to contact Qui Dor, Channing?"</p> - -<p>"Not for a while yet, please. I have to see a man about a little job."</p> - -<p>"Well, I'll meet you home," said the copy.</p> - -<p>"The hell you will. We're going to share a hotel room until all this is -over. If you think I want you giving my wife ideas about that little -monster...."</p> - -<p>"<i>Your</i> wife? Monster?"</p> - -<p>"A hotel," Channing insisted. "Get us a double room at the Waldorf -Towers. I'll see you later."</p> - -<p>Half an hour's time saw Channing in conference with Nicholson over a -couple of steins of ale. "Well, Nick," he said finally, ordering one -more round, "how soon can you get started?"</p> - -<p>"As soon as I can get a crew together. Tonight, for sure. Let me tell -you this, Bryan: after the crazy stuff which has been going on around -here, it will be a pleasure to get into space again."</p> - -<p>"I'm depending on you, Nick."</p> - -<p>"It's a cinch."</p> - -<p>"Speed is everything, don't forget." Channing sipped the foamy head and -amber liquid. "How long will it take you?"</p> - -<p>"Three days out to Targoff in sub-space, a day on Targoff. Three to -reach Deneb. A week, Bryan."</p> - -<p>"That's a long time. Well, I guess that's it. And Nick?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah?"</p> - -<p>"Don't find any more planets on the way."</p> - -<p>Channing called State and arranged the appointment with Qui Dor exactly -seven days hence, suggesting that Sarchix of Deneb also be invited. -Mrs. Delacourt, too. Might as well make everyone happy.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"So tomorrow your plan goes into effect," the copy told Channing in -their hotel room.</p> - -<p>Channing looked up from his magazine in surprise. "How did you know -that?"</p> - -<p>"I called State to verify the appointment. You realize that it can -have only one outcome for me."</p> - -<p>Channing shrugged. "I can't help that. Look, I have nothing against -you. You can still get off Earth if you want to."</p> - -<p>"What would happen to your plan then?"</p> - -<p>"To tell you the truth, I don't know. I still think it looks good."</p> - -<p>"Thanks for offering me my life, anyway. I'm not going anywhere, -though."</p> - -<p>"Suit yourself."</p> - -<p>"You are."</p> - -<p>"How's that, again?"</p> - -<p>For answer, the copy shouted, "Hey, George!"</p> - -<p>Three big men lumbered into the room, each one large enough to give -a Centaurian marsupial a good tumble. Four-foot tall George followed -them. George was from Deneb, complete with spacesuit.</p> - -<p>"I had a plan, too," the copy reminded Channing. "You forced my hand, -as they say."</p> - -<p>Channing dropped his magazine and stood up. One of the giants palmed -him back into his chair.</p> - -<p>"Sit still," said George.</p> - -<p>"Now, see here...."</p> - -<p>"Sit still. Be quiet."</p> - -<p>"If you disappear, they'll call the experiment off. Qui Dor will say he -already destroyed you. He'll apologize about copying me in the first -place."</p> - -<p>Channing's heart was thumping in his temples. "You're going to have me -murdered," he said. He wished he could come to some other conclusion.</p> - -<p>"And have the body found when you're supposed to be non-existent? <i>Esse -es percipi</i>, don't forget. A dead Channing would embarrass us as much -as a live one. You'll be taken far away instead."</p> - -<p>"And then murdered. You can't chance my coming back."</p> - -<p>"You seem hell-bent on your own demise."</p> - -<p>"I'm just projecting, as you once said. I should have done it sooner." -They had him, Channing knew. The three men had spread out about the -room, a swift, athletic strength in their every motion. The Denebian -barred the door, balanced forward on heavy-thewed legs, the tail -unencumbered by weight and ready to lash out.</p> - -<p>Abruptly, Channing leaped for the telio. The largest of the three -big men let him reach it, then slammed the edge of his hand down as -Channing clawed for the receiver. Channing nursed a numb wrist and -stared hopefully at his one remaining avenue of escape. The Denebian -twitched his tail, making thumping noises on the floor.</p> - -<p>Channing launched himself at the door, but the Denebian pivoted and -brought his tail around in a rising arc. Channing met it head-first -and collapsed on the floor.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It took some time for Channing to realize that he was in a trunk or box -of some kind. The darkness was absolute. He was so stiff he wondered -with a growing sense of horror if he had been embalmed. He seemed to -be sitting upright, head thrust forward and down, knees drawn up. Only -his arms had comparative freedom. Since there was absolute darkness all -around him, he wondered how they managed to bring fresh air into his -box. Unless it were dark outside, too. Unless they didn't try.</p> - -<p>He tried to rock forward experimentally and found that he could not. -His feet were wedged tightly, his back was against a wall. He could -only lift his arms half overhead, at which point his groping hands -encountered an unyielding surface.</p> - -<p>The inside of the box, which could barely accommodate Channing, was -hot—hot as a copter left too long in the summer sun, its windows -shut. He was acutely conscious of the sweat streaming down his face, -drenching his clothing, burning his eyes. His head ached and he felt -weak. He needed salt. He was trembling and nauseous from lack of it.</p> - -<p>He lifted his arms again and struck the surface above his head with his -knuckles. He struck it again. The noise sounded like sudden, angry -thunder in his ears, but the blows had been feeble and he did not -believe the sound carried very far. In the first few moments he rapped -with his knuckles continually, until he could hardly hold his hands -over his head. After that he paced the blows and sweated and thought.</p> - -<p>Was this tomorrow? Had Nick done his job on schedule? A fat lot of good -it would do if Channing remained where he was. He was in no position -to make book, but the baggage compartment of a spaceship seemed a good -bet. Outward bound, said spaceship, with a slowly suffocating Channing -to be disposed of at someone's leisure. The second Channing was just -brazen enough to pull it off. Since Channing had disappeared utterly, -it would be assumed he was the copy and had gone to collect whatever -reward copies collect after they no longer are wanted.</p> - -<p>His raw knuckles brought no response, but after a time he found he -could rock the box from side to side by bracing his elbows against -its sides and shifting his weight first in one direction, then the -other. Rocking intervals became longer as the box leaned further, -first to left then to right. In what seemed a short time, Channing -was exhausted. It was too warm, too wet, too stuffy. It was utterly, -completely, despairingly useless. If he could have stretched out in -quiet repose with a cool breeze wafting him, he might have given up at -that point. Instead, he summoned all his remaining energy and channeled -it in a final lunging effort.</p> - -<p>He felt himself tumbling, over and over. His head and arms took a -merciless battering which made him wish, suddenly, the box had been -even smaller and more constricting.</p> - -<p>He came to rest. A scratching noise bothered him. Damn vermin, go away. -But the scratching was outside.</p> - -<p>Light blinded him.</p> - -<p>"... some kind of animal, instead of declaring it. How cheap can people -be when they're willing to spend ... it's a man!"</p> - -<p>A face swam down at Channing, who blinked his eyes and squinted and -could see.</p> - -<p>"Are we in space yet?" he cried, struggling to get up. "Are we in -space?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"I'll say this for you, Channing," State admitted. "You never come up -with the same old song and dance."</p> - -<p>"Don't you see?" the copy asked. "My double has been eliminated by Qui -Dor already. Right, Qui Dor?"</p> - -<p>"Right. There was some misunderstanding about the time, and I merely -willed the double out of existence."</p> - -<p>"Well, I don't know...."</p> - -<p>"I do," said Mrs. Delacourt. "This doesn't solve anything as far as I'm -concerned. We still have all the same problems."</p> - -<p>"You're so right," said Channing, entering the room on the double. -"Sorry I'm late, everyone."</p> - -<p>State stared Qui Dor down. "I thought you said—"</p> - -<p>"I don't understand it," Qui Dor protested.</p> - -<p>"They tried to have me killed," Channing said quite matter-of-factly, -as if it weren't very important to him. "Because I was real, I couldn't -be willed out of existence. This ties the whole thing up, boss. Qui Dor -and the Denebian Ambassador are working together in a conspiracy to—"</p> - -<p>"Your whole case," Qui Dor interrupted him, "rests on one simple fact. -You claim we created a double for you because we wanted a spy, as -you put it—an informant would be better—to keep us abreast of all -diplomatic developments here. Well, I will admit it. You are the real -Channing and this other man is your copy."</p> - -<p>The copy moaned softly. Channing felt sorry for him.</p> - -<p>"But," Qui Dor went on, "the copy was never created for that purpose, -and I can prove it. Mr. Secretary, will you summon the witness I have -waiting?"</p> - -<p>State nodded, glared at Channing, opened a door. In walked Ellen. -"Darling," she murmured, running into Channing's arms. "I'm ready to -admit I was wrong. I don't want Stephanie. I don't want your copy. I -want you."</p> - -<p>"You see, Channing," Qui Dor explained, "after you and Mrs. Channing -began to argue about the little girl she had purchased from my -representative, she decided to purchase, for a trial period, a copy of -you which had all of your traits she liked, and none of the bad ones."</p> - -<p>"You didn't," Channing said.</p> - -<p>Ellen nodded slowly. "I—I guess I did. I was wrong."</p> - -<p>Qui Dor offered State a forgiving smile. "You see how you Earthmen can -jump to conclusions?" he asked. "What is so nefarious about the woman -ordering a twin of her husband?"</p> - -<p>"Plenty," Mrs. Delacourt snapped at him. "You're wrecking our -social institutions. Of course, I wouldn't put anything past the -Channings—all three of them."</p> - -<p>"That's beside the point," the Denebian Ambassador spoke for the first -time. "In all fairness to the man from Targoff, we ought to think of -first things first. If you want my opinion as an objective observer—"</p> - -<p>"That's a laugh," Channing shouted. "You know damn well you're not -objective and never were."</p> - -<p>"—I would say this man Channing is a trouble maker. I think I told you -he assaulted me not long ago."</p> - -<p>"Yes," State admitted, "you did. I do wish, Mr. Ambassador, that -whatever happens here never goes beyond this office."</p> - -<p>"I understand," Sarchix assured him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Frustration mounted in Channing and exploded. "You're all a bunch of -gullible fools!" he cried. "Letting them pull the wool over your eyes -like that. The only one with any sense is Mrs. Delacourt."</p> - -<p>State crimsoned. "That's enough, Channing. If I were your wife, I would -choose the copy."</p> - -<p>Ellen shook her head firmly.</p> - -<p>"In that case," Qui Dor said, "we might as well eliminate the second -Bryan Channing. You are quite sure, Mrs. Channing?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes."</p> - -<p>"I don't believe my wife had anything to do with it," Channing blurted. -"Maybe this isn't Ellen at all. Maybe she's a copy." Prove it, he told -himself wearily. Go ahead and try to prove it.</p> - -<p>Qui Dor ignored him. "Let me tell you in advance," he said, "that -the elimination of a copy extends beyond the merely physical. When -the second Channing disappears, so will your memory of him. You will -remember that any individual, any object—created by me or not—is -merely a collocation of qualities perceived by you, the people aware -of the object. To destroy the object is to destroy the collocation of -qualities within your minds—past, present, and future."</p> - -<p>In spite of himself, Channing was interested. "But according to the -British Empiricists, God's awareness was the constant conserver...."</p> - -<p>"We of Targoff are atheists. We have no God-memory, no constant -conserver. But why debate it <i>a priori</i>. Watch."</p> - -<p>"Wait, please ..." wailed Channing's copy. It was his own voice and it -was unnerving.</p> - -<p>The copy wasn't. Not gradually, but all at once. The copy vanished.</p> - -<p>"Well," said State, gazing about in a brief moment of confusion, "you -haven't been able to prove your point, Channing. I see no evidence of -collusion here. What were you trying to tell me, anyway?"</p> - -<p>Channing shook his head. "I don't remember." It was as if he had just -awakened from a dream and the more he tried to remember it, the vaguer -his memory of it became.</p> - -<p>"I suppose you know you're through, Channing."</p> - -<p>"I—I was fired, wasn't I?"</p> - -<p>"You were. I can't remember why, though ... wait a minute." The -Secretary had seen Mrs. Delacourt.</p> - -<p>"Certainly," she said, dragging herself up from the same un-remembered -dream. "I insisted on it."</p> - -<p>"You'll get decent references," said State.</p> - -<p>"Thank you."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Ambassador—both of you—I'm terribly sorry about all this. If -I can use my good offices in any manner whatever to help you, feel -perfectly free to—"</p> - -<p>"One more thing," Channing said. "One thing before I go."</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"In a moment." He frowned. He scratched his head. He sensed that some -vital cog had been slipped from his memory and all the little pieces -which remained had fallen apart chaotically. "I guess I'll go," he said -slowly. "I don't remember." He edged toward the door, Ellen following -him.</p> - -<p>"I don't care who's fired," Mrs. Delacourt told anyone who would -listen. "Something has got to be done about the Targoffians."</p> - -<p>Nick was going to Targoff to do something about it, Channing thought -dreamily. No, he was going to Deneb, via Targoff. Channing was supposed -to call him.</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes," he said. "I've got to make a call to Deneb."</p> - -<p>"Deneb?" Sarchix thumped his tail.</p> - -<p>"The Earth Embassy there. Our explorer, Nicholson." While State -protested and Mrs. Delacourt went on complaining, Channing placed the -call on their sub-space tie-line. If anyone could get rid of Qui Dor -and his copies, it was Nick. But strangely, Channing had thought he had -something concrete to go on. Well, Nick might help.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They spoke at length and Channing told the explorer to hold on. He -turned to Sarchix. "Mr. Ambassador," he said, "I thought you'd like to -know that we've done Deneb a great favor."</p> - -<p>"What's that? What did you do?"</p> - -<p>"We established diplomatic relations between Targoff and Deneb."</p> - -<p>"You're joking."</p> - -<p>"No. Honest."</p> - -<p>"Why in the world did you do that? I mean, it would seem that we're -capable of making our own decisions when it comes to—"</p> - -<p>"Uh-uh," Channing shook his head. "You just refused to accept a good -thing when you saw it. Good old Targoff and its magic. Now that -relations are established, of course, if for any reason you decide to -break them, that won't look so good as far as the rest of the galaxy -is concerned—unless Earth and Deneb should decide to break relations -with Targoff simultaneously."</p> - -<p>"Let me at that telio!" Sarchix cried, and was soon busy talking with -Nick in English and someone else in Denebian.</p> - -<p>"Will someone please tell me what's happening?" State demanded.</p> - -<p>"I'm not sure," Channing said. "Somehow, Deneb discovered Targoff -and hid the fact, then got us to discover it. It was a way to wreck -Earth's position in the galaxy, and to weaken Earth over a long period -of time to such an extent that Deneb would be top dog. But now, as the -Ambassador is beginning to find out, Deneb will also be confronted with -a lower standard of living, a high divorce rate, a low birth rate, food -which doesn't prevent malnutrition, medicine which cures symptoms but -not disease...."</p> - -<p>"I see, I see," Mrs. Delacourt beamed on Channing for the first time -since they had met. "Everyone can save face if Earth and Deneb break -off relations with Targoff at the same time."</p> - -<p>"Right. Only poor Targoff gets left out in the cold."</p> - -<p>"I assure you, it is far worse than that," said Qui Dor.</p> - -<p>Sarchix had finished on the tie-line and turned to face Channing with -a beaten look on his face—if you could call it a face and the slight -change of feature-orientation a beaten look. Channing thought you could.</p> - -<p>"Then we both break relations with Targoff?" he said.</p> - -<p>"No." Sarchix shook his head sadly. Qui Dor paced about the room as if -he were cornered. He seemed to know it and Sarchix did, although no one -else seemed to notice.</p> - -<p>At one and the same instant, Qui Dor and Ellen disappeared. A flitting -realization barely made itself felt in Channing's mind. Two of them, -but with no chance to take root. This was not Ellen. This was a copy -created by Qui Dor to convince them Ellen had wanted ... wanted -something, he couldn't remember what, created. Targoff and Qui Dor had -not been discovered by Sarchix of Deneb—the Denebians had created -them. The original power resided in the Denebians!</p> - -<p>White hot and searing, it entered his mind—and vanished. He watched -the Denebian Ambassador shaking hands with the Secretary of State -before leaving the room. Somehow, the Denebian Ambassador looked glum, -as if he had lost something important.</p> - -<p>"Am I fired or something?" Channing wanted to know.</p> - -<p>"I seem to remember some talk about it," State said vaguely. "But it -doesn't make sense. There's no reason to fire you."</p> - -<p>"I should be angry at this young man," Mrs. Delacourt mused. "Can't -remember why. Well, good day, Mr. Secretary."</p> - -<p>She left.</p> - -<p>"What did she want?" State asked Channing.</p> - -<p>"Beats me."</p> - -<p>"I'm tired, Channing. Going to take the afternoon off. You look bushed -yourself. Why don't you do the same?"</p> - -<p>"Thanks," said Channing.</p> - -<p>"I'll keep in touch with the office and call you if you're needed."</p> - -<p>"Much obliged," said Channing, and headed for home.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Ellen didn't let him go into the kitchen, but he could smell the -chicken cacciatore, anyway. Dinner was interrupted, however, when he -received a call from State.</p> - -<p>"This will interest your man Nicholson, Channing," the Secretary -said, "although it isn't actually in our field. If he's ever in the -neighborhood, he might investigate, though."</p> - -<p>"What will interest him? Say, where is Nicholson, anyway? Seems to me I -sent him someplace. Well, he'll turn up."</p> - -<p>"Nothing much, really. It seems a star six hundred light years -galactic north of Deneb disappeared. Since it didn't have any planets, -I suppose it really doesn't matter."</p> - -<p>"I'll try to remember and tell Nick," said Channing. "Did the star -have a name or just a catalogue number?"</p> - -<p>"They named it after the man who discovered it with the new Luna -telescope. Professor Targoff. 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