He followed the nurse into the "Dupe" room and ran a familiar eye over
the shining and ponderous equipment. He knew the theory vaguely. Space,
warped, formed positive and negative fields. These fields, subjected to
warping and energy changes, formed nascent matter, unstable and simple.
Warped again, the inchoate matter formed into molecular substances
identical with the pattern electrically projected into it. Whatever
was placed in the primary chamber was pierced back and forth at every
possible angle by a thousand different types of rays and emanations
from the energy sources about the primary chambers. These rays were
then the energy directed into the swirling haze of nascent matter. An
identical object would take form in about five minutes time and the
product's differences from the "pattern object" could not be detected
by the strongest microscope.
"Simple," the man in the street might say. Tindar, more familiar with
the theory of operation, was also more conscious of the hundreds and
hundreds of years of research upon which the theory was based. He had
always held a tremendous respect for the scientists who fathered the
amazing invention.
Tindar climbed up onto the pneumatic cot and was slipped into the
primary cylinder. He was slipping slowly into the mist of sleep as the
door of the primary chamber clanked softly behind him. He gazed for a
moment at the thousand lens-eyes on the curving walls about him. The
eyes suddenly shown with all the colors of the spectrum and bathed his
body in a weird and twisted rainbow of heterogeneous rays....
* * * * *
Two Tindars awoke abruptly and sat up on the pneumatic cots. They saw
that the cots had been moved and rested against another in a corner of
the room. They looked at one another.
"Who's who?" one of them asked.
"We'll have to wait for the attendants," the other shrugged. It was
odd. That was practically all you ever had to say to yourself.
Down the hall feet slapped rapidly on the floor and approached the
"Dupe" chamber. A taut-faced attendant looked into the room and waved
at them frantically with a trembling hand.
"Don't get off your cots, please, sirs," he quavered and was gone.
The Tindars stared at one another.
"Something novel," they both said.
"Listen to the hell they're raising in the other room," one said,
breaking the identity of their thought streams.
Visor-phones were buzzing; at least a dozen voices were raised in
a furious discussion. Another voice could be heard, pleading and
distraught. More attendants ran up and down the hall before the "Dupe"
chamber. Three uniformed men with faces as white as their uniforms
rushed through the waiting room and faced the Tindars.
"Dr. Bronsky will be here in a moment, sirs," one of them said.
"What's the matter?" one of the Tindars asked.
"Dr. Bronsky will be here presently, sirs," the attendant repeated.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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