"So would I--if I could afford it! But I fear it's not that simple. Take, for example, the chapter of Don Quixote you heard last evening. The World Government representative from England sent the Digester's notes to an aunt in Liverpool. She'll read them to her Bohemian friends tonight, and tomorrow they may be in Buenos Aires or Istanbul--who knows?" "But what happens to them eventually? Aren't they kept in some central place?" Willy spread his short, pudgy fingers in a gesture of hopelessness. "That would mean organization--and we're not organized. We wouldn't dare to be! I've never stopped to think what finally happens to these things. Perhaps they end up among the papers of some old dreamer like myself. It's enough that they have brought their mellow moments of happiness!" "It's not enough!" Walther protested fiercely. "It's a great waste! How will you ever improve things that way?" "Who's trying to improve anything? The people of Earth are content--and those of us who are not entirely so--well, we have our little underworlds of pleasure." "Is that all you want?" "Is there more?" Walther jumped up angrily. "I believe there is--and I think you do, too!" he said harshly. "If you don't, why did you take me to that meeting last night and invite me here today? Why did you send me off alone with Maria?" Willy only smiled, but under his silk robe his round belly shook with silent laughter. "You are a foolish young man ... and sometimes not so foolish! Sit down. Sit down...." He leaned forward in his easy chair, and his manner became grave. "Perhaps it's difficult for an old man to come near the end of life fearing that the beauty he loves will never escape from its tomb. Perhaps it's also difficult for an old maestro who cherishes the talent and loveliness of a young woman to know that she may never understand what her gift really means. Perhaps an old man can still dream some dreams that a young man could not comprehend...." The tight knot in Walther's stomach slowly unwound itself. "Then you will help me," he said quietly. "Yes, I will help you ... if I can ... and you will help me!" At Willy's suggestion, they decided to talk first to the Digester who had smuggled out the Don Quixote chapter. "He's been most successful of all of our friends," said Willy. "He might be willing to organize a group of Digesters who could bring out things to be duplicated, and return them, I question, though, that you could duplicate many things here on Earth." "Then we'll ship them away from Earth! The outermost world of this galaxy--at least to my knowledge--is Alden IV; it's technically well-developed and is a contact with our own galaxy." Willy called the bald little Digester, and he came over right after lunch. But his reaction to Walther's proposal was not what they had expected.