"And even that wouldn't be too bad. We made our duplicates and went to work on one immediately. We operated, located the trouble and corrected it. The third duplicate lived. Then we operated on the patient successfully. I didn't mind the first two dupes, Cal. It was the disposing of the cured duplicate that got me. It was like ... no, it _was_ disposing of an identity." Tink shuddered, and then drained her second shot of palan simultaneously with Cal. "And you wonder why I dislike medicine," he said flatly. "I know--or try to. But look, Cal. Aside from the distaste, look at what medicine has been able to accomplish." "Sure," he said without enthusiasm. "Well, it has." "But at what a cost." "Cost? Very little cost," snapped Tinker. "After all, once one has the stomach to dispose of a duplicate, what is the cost? Doctors bury their mistakes just as always, but the mistake is a duplicate. The sentience remains." "How can you tell the real article from the duplicate?" "We keep track." "I know that. What I mean is this: A man is born, lives thirty years as an identity. He is duplicated for surgical purposes at age thirty. All duplicates and the original are he--complete with thought and habit patterns of thirty years. They are identical in every way right down to the dirt on their hands and the subconscious thoughts that pass inside of their brains. Their egos are all identical. When you kill the duplicate, you might as well kill the identity. The duplicate is as much an identity as the original." "True," said Tinker. "However, once a duplicate is made, the identities begin to differ. One will have different experiences and different ideas and thoughts. Eventually the two duplicates are separate characters. But in deference to the identity, it is he that we must cure and preserve. For the instant that the duplication takes place, the character starts to differ. We can not destroy the original. The duplicate is not real. It ... how can I say it? ... hasn't enjoyed ... yes it has, too. It was once the original. Cal, you're getting me all balled up." "Why not let them both live?" * * * * * Tinker looked at Cal with wonder. "Inspect your life," she said sharply. "You and Benj. How do I know right now that you are not Benj?" Cal recoiled as though he had been struck. "You're Cal, I know. That distaste was not acting. It was too quick and too good, Cal. But can you see what would happen? What is a dupe's lot?" Cal nodded slowly. "He's scorned, taunted, and hated. He cannot masquerade too well--that in itself is a loss in identity. Yes--it is a matter of mercy to dispose of the duplicate. The whole thing is wrong. Can't something be done about it?" "Not until you change human nature," smiled Tinker. "It's been done before." "I know. But not a thing as ingrained as this."