Precise Doyle Tindar and prim Kay Kanton
had themselves duplicated, standard practice
for trouble-shooting in space. But the
duplicates fell in love—and what happened
then was neither practice nor standard!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1950.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Doyle Tindar was awakened by the urgent buzzing of the visor-phone byhis bed. He grumbled, rolled over, glanced at the view-plate and wincedas he saw the fat, grim face of the Control Board Director, Sam Penset.He sat up, yawned, and snapped the set on.
"Yeah?"
"Listen, Tindar," Penset boomed and Tindar turned the volume down."We've got a large pile of trouble. No reports from the mines on Boluslast night. Automatic radio communication absolutely dead. Powerplant may have caught a meteor, but it would have to be a large one.Telescope won't tell us anything. Get out there, will you?"
"Say, I'm on vacation, if you don't mind," Tindar said. "What aboutBedding? Or Teppen?"
"Bedding's on a honeymoon, damn him," Penset growled, "and Teppen'sgetting some new teeth planted. It has to be you."
"Miss Kanton's going out there tomorrow," Tindar insisted, notrelishing a space trip since he was on his first vacation in a year.
"I've thought of that," Penset boomed back. "She couldn't report fullyon the state of affairs. She's a meter-reader. Strictly a control-roomworker. Nothing to do with the power plant or the actual mines."
"Okay," Tindar sighed, "I'll get on it. I'll leave Hessing Field thisafternoon. Do I get a bonus?"
"Yeah, you thief," Penset smiled, "but get duplicated. You'll haveenough work for two men."
"Okay."
"And, Tindar—" Penset signaled him to stay on the air—"I've justthought of something. Miss Kanton had better go to Bolus with you.Might as well clean up the whole mess at once."
"Okay," Tindar said, waved and shut the set off.
He climbed out of bed very slowly and shuffled across the room in apair of frayed slippers. He went to the bathroom, mixed and dranka stimulant to snap him out of his stupor. He lit a cigarette andrummaged around in his closet until he found his space suit.
Since Miss Kanton was going to be on the trip with him, the job wasmore attractive. He mused about the very nice-looking Miss Kanton fora moment, then began dressing hurriedly. He'd have to get down to theduplication labs before the noon rush.
Washed, attired in the space suit he wanted his duplicate to wear,and considerably more awake, Tindar stood before the reception deskof the Central Commercial Duplication Laboratories of North Americawith his governmental certificates of permission for his "duping." Thewhite-uniformed woman receptionist studied his certificates, handed himan identification disc and waved him on. She pressed a button on thedesk and the information about him was wired to the other stations.
An attendant met and ushered him down a long, cool, white corridorto the section of the building devoted to the duplication of livingmatter. Another attendant took him from the first and whisked him up inan elevator to the floor where, as the somber sign stated, "Duplicationof the Human Being" was carried on. He was directed to a pneumaticchair in the waiting room and he sat down.
Tindar had never ceased to wonder at the startling work done in thismassive building, which most people, over the course of the lasthundred years of its use, had come to consider a natural part of thebustling, scientific worlds. C.D. Labs, holding a