there were only soft-iron knives and patched garments. And since the smallest of gardens, with any kind of vegetable matter for raw material, could have its produce duplied without limit, only the smallest of gardens were cultivated. Wherefore Harl’s Household was hung with rich drapery which was falling apart, the carpets on its floors were threadbare, and he was proud that his Household had one scrawny apple tree with wormy fruit on it. Because on Sord Three men were not needed to make things or grow things or do things. And Harl’s Household was ready to break apart.
“I begin,” said Link unhappily, “to agree with Harl. Since Thistlethwaite can’t hope to astrogate his ship if I’m hanged, he can’t report the state of things without me. So it’s probably wise to hang me. On the other hand I couldn’t run the ship’s engines, so I couldn’t take the news if he were hanged. But one or the other of us should be disposed of.”
Thana said sympathetically, “You feel terrible, don’t you? Let’s go see Harl. Maybe you’ll feel better. No, wait!” An idea had occurred to her. She surveyed a shelf of elaborately embroidered garments. She picked out one. “Do you think this is pretty?”
“Very,” said Link forlornly. There hadn’t been too many things he’d taken seriously, in his lifetime, but he did know that if dupliers got loose in the galaxy, there’d be no man certain of his life if he hadn’t a duplier, nor any man whose life was worth a pebble if he did.
“Fine!” said Thana brightly. “Come along!”
She picked up a bundle of what looked like ancient, yellowed, cloth scraps, plus a lump of bog-iron. She led the way into the great hall.
Her brother Harl was there, wearing an expression of patient gloom. There were two retainers, working at something which gradually became clear. A third man rolled in a large wheeled box from somewhere. It was filled to the brim with a confused mass of leaves and roots and branches and weeds. It was the mixture uffts had been dragging into the village in a wheeled cart some little while ago. As a mixture, it belonged on a compost heap or on a brush pile to be burned. But instead it was brought into the hall with the incredible, falling-apart, floor-to-ceiling draperies.
There was a stirring. The dais and the canopied chair moved. Together, chair and dais rose ceilingward. A deep pit was revealed where they had stood. And something rose in the pit, like a freight-elevator. It came plainly into view, and it was a complex metal contrivance with three hoppers on top which were plainly meant to hold things. One of the hoppers contained a damp mass of greenish powder in a highly irregular mound. One of Harl’s retainers began to brush that out into a box for waste. The middle hopper contained a pile of apples, all small, all scrawny, and each with a wormhole next its stem. It contained a bushel or more of lettuce heaped up with the apples. The rest of the hopper was filled with peas.
The third of the hoppers contained an exact duplicate of the contents of the middle hopper. Each leaf of lettuce in the third hopper was a duplicate of one in the middle hopper. Each apple was a duplicate of an apple in the middle hopper. Each pea—
“Pyramid it once more,” said Harl, “and it’ll be enough.”
His retainers piled the contents of the third hopper into the second. They piled the first one high with the contents of the box of vegetable debris. Link knew the theory now. The trash was vegetation. There were the same elements and same compounds in the trash as in apples, lettuce leaves, and peas. The proportions would be different, but the substance would be there. The duplier would take from the trash the materials needed to duplicate the sample edibles.
The same thing could more or less be done with roasts and steaks. Or elaborate embroidery, provided one had a sample for the duplier to work from. There would be left-over raw materials, of course, but a duplier could duplicate anything. Including a duplier.
And that was the thought which was frightening.
Harl said, “All right.”
The men moved back. The contrivance descended into the pit. The chair of state descended until its dais rested on the floor, covering the pit. Harl said casually:
“How’d you make out, Thana? Does Link know some of the things you were wonderin’ about?”
“Most of them,” said Thana confidently. “Nearly all!”
It was less than an accurate statement, and Link wondered morosely why she made it. But then Harl pressed the button. The chair of state rose. The deep pit was revealed. The metal contrivance rose to floor-level. The pile of assorted fragments in the first hopper had practically vanished. The fruit and lettuce and peas in the second hopper were unchanged. The third hopper was full of an exact duplicate of the assortment of edibles in the middle one.
“We don’t need any more,” observed Harl. “Just clean up and—”
“Wait!” said Thana. “I was showing Link things, and he admired this shirt.”
She unfolded the garment she’d asked Link’s opinion on. It was a shirt. It was lavishly embroidered. Link opened his mouth, but Harl said indulgently, “All right.”
Thana put the shirt in the middle—sample—hopper. Then she said:
“He told me the knife you’ve got is the prettiest he’s seen, too!”
Harl said, “Sput!” His tone was not entirely pleased. Then he said, “I got to have manners, huh?”
“Of course,” said Thana.
With a grimace, Harl unbuckled his belt and handed the belt and knife to Thana. She put them into the middle hopper. Then she put bog-iron, wood, and the scraps of cloth from the treasury room into the raw materials place. She nodded confidently to her brother.
He pressed something, the chair of state sank down, following the duplier mechanism, the room looked normal for a moment, and then the chair of state rose up, the pit appeared, and then the duplier.
There was much less bog-iron in the materials hopper. There was some sand on the hopper bottom. The embroidered shirt and the knife and belt were, as they’d been before, in the middle hopper. Exact duplicates of both knife and shirt were in the third hopper.
Thana handed her brother his knife. She took out and put aside the sample garment. She spread out its duplicate and said to Link, “Do put it on! Please!”
Harl watched impatiently, as Link took off his own shirt and donned the embroidered one. He was embarrassed by his own decorative appearance in the new apparel. Thana picked up the shirt he’d taken off.
“Look! This is unduplied, Harl!” she said with extravagant admiration. “Have you ever seen anything so wonderful?”
“Sput!” said Harl angrily. “What you tryin’ to do?”
“I’m saying that this is a wonderful shirt,” said Thana, beaming. “It isn’t duplied. It’s the nicest, newest shirt I’ve ever seen. Don’t you think so? I dare you to lie and still pretend you’ve manners!”
Harl said, “Sput!” again, and then, “All right,” he admitted peevishly. “It’s true. I never saw a new, unduplied shirt before. It’s a nice shirt.”
Thana turned triumphantly to Link. He didn’t see any reason for triumph. But she waited, and waited. Harl glared at him. Suddenly, Link understood. He might be scheduled to hang, but he was expected to be mannerly.
“The shirt is yours,” he said dourly to Harl. “It’s a gift.”
Harl hesitated for what seemed a long time. Then, “Thanks,” he said reluctantly. “It’s a right nice guest-gift. I appreciate it.”
Thana looked radiant. She sent one of the retainers, standing by, for all the cloth on the treasury room shelves. She fairly glowed with enthusiasm. She put Link’s former shirt in the sample hopper and filled another with scraps, and sent the duplier down. It came up and there were two shirts. It went down again with two shirts in the sample hopper. When it came up there were four. The chair of state and the duplier went down and up and down and up and down and up. When the last morsel of raw material was exhausted, there were one hundred twenty- seven duplicates of Link’s own shirt, besides the original shirt itself.
“I guess that’ll do,” said Harl, ungraciously. “I’ll be sendin’ gifts to all my friends, and all my own fellas will have new shirts, an’ their wives’ll be takin’ ’em apart to make dresses and sheets and stuff.” He nodded to Link. “I appreciate that shirt a lot, Link. Thanks.”
He went away, and Link stirred stiffly. He’d watched the entire process. Objects could be duplicated without labor or skill or industry. He’d observed what his mind told him was the doom of human civilization unless he or
