Part 2

The "eye" zoomed down and the street grew in size until the fountain that gave the Square its name was in plain view. It seemed incongruous that the water in the fountain came out at an odd angle to gravity and fell back at another odd angle, yet this was not a running reproduction of Fountain Square but a swift series of instantaneous reproductions and the droplets of water like everything else was replaced in whatever relative position it was, regardless of the facts of true gravity.

The scene tilted flat, finally, and traveled along the street on the level until the principal character was approached, whereupon the action began. The camera followed Jack Vanders into a bar where he met Martha Evers and ordered the Manhattan that was to become Gargantuan in size--

* * * * *

Jenny Foster put her face up for a good night kiss, and then shoved her apartment door open as Tim turned to leave. Inside, the living room light was on, and Jenny instantly called Tim back.

"Someone," she said, pointing to the lights.

"O.K." he said, entering before her. Sprawled in Jenny's easy-chair was--

"Foster!"

"Who--me?" asked Foster in surprise. "Foster's dead."

"Can it," snapped Woodart. "And talk!"

"Or else?" drawled Foster indolently.

"Or else," snarled Woodart.

"Or else what?"

Tim went to the telephone and dialed the number of the police force.

"Don't bother," said Harry Foster. "I'm ... Foster, that is, is dead."

Tim replaced the telephone. "What's the gag?" he demanded.

"I," said Foster hollowly, "am a ghost returned to plague mine unfaithful wife."

"The hereafter is going to have a moaning ghost with a shanty on its eye," said Woodart ominously. "Unfaithful wife my foot. If ever she--"

"Now that's been the big bone of contention," smiled Foster. "Foster gave her no grounds, and she was too good to give me any. And Foster gave her none because it is still impossible to have a wife testify against her husband."

"Very sly of you."

"Of Foster."

"You're Foster!"

"Me? No. Foster's dead."

Jenny gave a weak cry of despair. "What do you want?" she asked.

"How much have you got?" asked Foster pointedly.

"Blackmail," snarled Woodart.

"Why no. Not at all."

"You name it."

"It need have no name. You see, Woodart, I've learned that I no longer need the protection of the legality that prevents a wife from testifying against her husband. Her husband is dead."

"So?"

"Well, it isn't blackmail to perform a service for someone."

"Meaning?"

"Divorce comes high," explained Foster pointedly.

"After which--if done--you could continue to ask for more," said Woodart angrily. "You could threaten to prove that you were paid to get the divorce, a mere matter of blackening the character of a woman whose only error was being blind enough to take a second look at you."

"Your ingenious mind is too complex," said Foster quietly.

"May I point out that if you are dead, you are dead, and therefore--"

Foster laughed nastily. "Legally and physically, Harry Foster died and was buried. Legally there is nothing that could possibly prevent you from marrying her if you wanted to. But you see, Woodart, my wife is a completely moral woman, to say nothing of ethical. Though it is legal, there is still the gnawing doubt in her that she is compounding a felony--bigamy."

Jenny made a plaintive gesture, "I'll wait until he asks me--"

But she was not heard. Tim Woodart snorted. "So you think they'll be hesitant about punishing a dead man?"

"What do you think?"

Woodart strode forward and took Foster by the lapels of his coat, gathered them into one hand, and lifted the crook out of the easy-chair with an angry shake. "Then they can't book me for assault and battery upon the person of a corpse," he gritted. His free hand came back and forth across Foster's face, driving the heel's head from side to side. Then Woodart shoved him back, letting go of the lapels and using that hand to bury itself to the wrist in Foster's midsection. As Foster folded forward, Tim straightened him up with an upward chop to the jaw.

Foster crumpled, and Woodart lifted him by the collar and dragged him to the door, hurling him into the hallway. Foster turned, wiping blood from his face, and spat like an angry cat.

"That'll cost you, punk," he snarled.

Woodart laughed.

"Laugh," leered Foster. "You can't bring suit for divorce against a dead man, either!"

* * * * *

Harry Foster opened the door to his apartment and nodded quite genially. "Come in, gentlemen," he said overpolitely.

State attorney Jones was less cordial, and Lieutenant Miller was harsh.

"You're Harry Foster."

"I am. Strange coincidence, isn't it?"

"Coincidence my--"

"Be careful," warned Foster. "You wouldn't want to insult a citizen, would you? It might go hard with you."

"You're Harry Foster."

"I am."

"Then who was the man that was buried?"

"That is the coincidence," said Foster sorrowfully. "He was another Harry Foster. I understand that he was a rascal and definitely needed killing."

"Where were you when that deed was done?"

"Me? Look, sir, am I under suspicion?"

"Could be."

"Then produce your warrant! I shall take no guff from you nor any of your ilk."

"Take it easy," said Jones. "An innocent man has nothing to fear."

"An innocent man," said Foster, "has plenty to fear. Scheming politicians and courts who like to see convictions. Also there is the protection of the Constitution of the United States that grants me the right to do as I please so long as I am lawful about it."

"It also grants us the right to protect other people," said Lieutenant Miller. "As for a warrant, we have a search warrant--plus the fact that we know that murder was done in this apartment not more than two weeks ago."

"You're in," said Foster. "And you may leave as soon as you can. I'll not detain you."

"You know," said State attorney Jones, "this man answers the description of the man who is wanted for any number of assorted crimes from forgery to grand larceny. In every way he fills the bill. I think we will arrest you, Mr. Foster."

"You'll be sorry. This is false arrest."

"Indeed. In this country, all arrests are false arrests because it is a statement of intent that all men are innocent until proven guilty by a court of justice! Ergo, we take you into custody whether innocent or guilty and we will permit the judgment of the court to decide your status. Coming quietly--or would you prefer to resist arrest?"

Lieutenant Miller looked eager. "Please resist," he said clenching his fist.

"Unclench it," snapped Foster. "You touch me and I'll prove that you wantonly and brutally attacked an innocent victim without provocation."

"I've provocation enough," snarled Miller. "My sister--"

"Your sister suffered deeply at the hands of this blackguard Harry Foster," said Foster oilily. "But because he resembled me and wore my name is no logical nor lawful reason for identifying your hatred of him against me. That is a psychopathic failing, Lieutenant Miller."

"I'd like to make a pathological mess out of you," snapped Miller.

"Mr. Jones, you will remember that threat," said Foster. "As State attorney, it is your duty to protect the innocent."

Jones closed his lips over hard teeth and said nothing. He would have enjoyed the job of protecting Foster against a hungry hyena.

Foster went with them, but his manner was not that of a dangerous criminal who had been apprehended. It was that of a man who knows all the answers.

* * * * *

"The defendant, Harry Foster, is charged with Murder in the First Degree," said State attorney Jones. "This is a strange case, gentlemen of the jury. It is without precedent, and, therefore, your action will establish a precedent. I charge you to consider not only the case at hand and to try it with the utmost regard to justice, but to remember, as you are considering the evidence to be presented, that this is but the first of many cases that will certainly follow. I--"

"I object! The defendant is on trial, not the Judicial System of the United States!" shouted Defense attorney Cranshaw.

Judge Carver said, "The objection is sustained. Strike that from the record."

Jones turned to the Court. "Your Honor, I request that my statements about the establishment of precedent be retained."

Carver nodded. "It is true that this case will establish a precedent. Yet the trial at hand is the only thing of importance."

"I accept," replied Jones, and returned to the jury.

"I will attempt to show that the defendant did produce a living duplicate of himself after which he killed the duplicate. I call for my first witness the inventor of the device, Timothy Woodart."

Tim came to the stand and was sworn. There was considerable questioning to establish the qualifications of the witness, during which Cranshaw said to Foster: "This will be a thin case, Foster. Yet, if we can establish a reasonable doubt, the result will be an acquittal."

"Thin nothing," laughed Foster. "Just tie 'em up as I told you!"

"All right," replied Cranshaw uncertainly. "But it will be like arguing on one side for part of the time and then switching sides in the middle."

"What do you care so long as we win?"

"I don't," grinned Cranshaw. "Listen--Woodart is starting to give pertinent testimony."

"Mr. Woodart," asked Jones, "is it possible for your device to be stopped at such a time as to leave a complete set?"

"Yes," said Woodart.

"And you've known this all along?"

"Naturally. I invented it."

"Then the device is essentially a duplicating device?"

Woodart nodded. "It is, but like all such devices, it requires power. The laws of conservation of matter and energy make it impractical to produce a myriad of devices from a recording."

"And why is the device practical for the production of panoramic entertainment?"

"The initial power is expended in producing the first replica of the original scene," said Woodart, "after which, the scene is obliterated, which returns the power to the equipment for the construction of the next frame. Aside from the conversion losses and basic inefficiencies, the thing is then self-supporting."

"In other words, if it takes a kilowatt to establish one frame, that kilowatt is returned to the equipment?"

"Yes," said Woodart, "though the power is more on the order of a hundred thousand kilowatts."

"As the main party involved with the equipment, it is your duty to see that it is kept in operating condition?"

"Yes."

"Then tell us, Mr. Woodart, at any time since the device was initiated has there been any expenditure of great power that was unaccounted for?"

"There was."

"And your analysis?"

"On the night of May 18th the power demand meter showed the expenditure of seventy thousand kilowatts. It is my opinion that--"

"I object! That is an opinion, not a fact!" exploded Cranshaw.

Jones smiled. "Counsel will admit that it is the opinion of a very qualified man."

"I want it understood that this testimony is but an opinion!"

"Objection noted," said Judge Carver. "Proceed, Mr. Jones."

Jones nodded at Woodart. Woodart continued--

"My opinion is that during the night, someone established a single frame of the opus we were working on. Once this single frame was established, the person removed from the set one object, after which he wiped the stage clean, returning that to the equipment as power but without the object which accounts for seventy thousand kilowatts of energy."

"Mr. Woodart, is there any correlation between this power and the Einstein Formula?"

"No. The matter is not made--manufactured. It is converted. The energy represents the power required to carry the matter from a storage place to the stage. It is somewhat like lifting a weight to a certain height. There is no correlation between the foot-pounds of energy expended in such and the mass-energy of the stone. However, in lifting a stone, the energy expended in lift will be returned when the stone is let down--excepting that part which is removed from the total while the stone is held in midair."

"Then it might be difficult for you to determine just what was removed from the set?"

"It might be," said Woodart, looking hard at Harry Foster.

"That is all, Mr. Woodart." To the jury, Jones said: "I think you will find that the testimony just given will prove that duplication is possible. My next witness will show just who was duplicated. I now call Lieutenant Miller to the stand."

* * * * *

"Lieutenant Miller, when you came to the apartment of Harry Foster, what did you find?"

"I found Harry Foster, dead of gunshot wounds."

"And what else?"

"A revolver."

"And?"

"The revolver was in a far corner of the room," said Miller. "The dead man could not have used it upon himself for numerous reasons, even though the only fingerprints on the weapon were unmistakably those of Harry Foster. One reason is the distance between the body and the weapon; the wounds produced instant death. Another reason is that the dead man's right hand was in his coat pocket--clenched around a duplicate of the revolver."

"You can establish the authenticity of this?"

"Both weapons had the same serial number. Both bore the same scars from use. Both weapons produced the same landmarks upon test bullets. Yet at that time only one weapon had been fired; the one tossed in the corner."

"Your Honor, I enter as Exhibit A these weapons, duplicates of one another. They are definite proof that duplication of objects did take place."

"Evidence accepted."

"It will be noted that the serial number on these guns is registered in the name of Harry Foster. I will suggest no indictment at this time for the criminal act of having two weapons with the same serial number but I do suggest that it be remembered."

He turned to Miller and said, "That is all."

Cranshaw arose to cross-question. "Mr. Miller," he asked, "is there any way of telling which of those guns is the original and which is the duplicate. I assume that they are not _both_ duplicates."

"Only the marking on the weapon that was fired after the killing."

"But, Lieutenant Miller, this is not conclusive. Which weapon was used to kill the dead man--the original or the duplicate?"

"I object. That is irrelevant, immaterial, and incompetent!"

Cranshaw smiled deeply. "It is all three, Counsel. I want to know at this time who was the killer and who was the duplicate?"

Miller shook his head. "Only he can answer that."

"That is all," smiled Cranshaw.

Jones called the defendant to the stand. "Mr. Foster, did you or did you not make a duplicate of yourself?"

"Objection. The question is an obvious attempt to incriminate the witness!"

"Sustained!"

"I merely wish to establish the identity of the witness."

"Then do it without asking him leading questions."

Jones faced Cranshaw angrily. "How can I?" he stormed angrily. "His name, his measurements, his fingerprints, his ... everything is identical to that of the slain."

"Inconveniently coincidental," smiled Cranshaw.

"Mr. Foster," said Jones quietly, "upon the night of May 18th, was there a duplicate human being made?"

Foster nodded in a superior fashion.

"And are you the duplicate or the--"

"Objection!"

"Sustained!"

"That is all, Mr. Foster," replied Jones angrily. He turned to the jury and smiled. "My points are simple but clear," he said. "Circumstantial evidence it may be, but a more profound interlock of such evidence is seldom found. One: There was a duplicate made. Two, a man was killed by a weapon belonging to Harry Foster, in Harry Foster's apartment, and all evidence fails to show the occupancy of any other human being. Three, the defendant admits that there was duplication made but makes attempt to confuse the Court by denying to answer whether he is original or duplicate! This is an admission that he was the duplicate made--or that he was the original. No denial is made of this. Since it is impossible by any ordinary means to distinguish one Harry Foster--defendant--from the other Harry Foster--victim--a sentence of death is indicated for Harry Foster, the defendant, since the killing conveniently made the only distinction."

Cranshaw arose with a stretch and a smile. "First," he said sincerely, "I want to clear my client of other charges against him. Your Honor, and Counsel for the Prosecution, will you admit as evidence the statements made by relatives, and other competent authorities to the effect that the dead man was the Harry Foster who was wanted for crimes of various nature?"

"I object!" exploded Jones. "If any duplication was made, then the duplicate is equally guilty!"

"All right," said Cranshaw. "Let it pass." He faced the jury with a persecuted air. "Anything to make life difficult," he laughed.

"Now," he said, "may I enter as evidence the suit that the slain man was wearing? It is--or was--identical to that which my client is wearing now. At the present time," he said with a smile, "the client's suit is a little more worn, though in better condition due to the holes in this one. Now, for my first witness I call Dr. Lewis."

* * * * *

"Dr. Lewis, have you ever considered the being of a duplicate?"

"Not until recently," smiled the doctor.

"You are a competent psychiatrist. Can you tell us the responsibility-quotient of a man kept in a state of suspended animation until he was thirty-three years old?"

"He would have little or no sense of responsibility at all."

"Would you say then that a duplicate of any human being was responsible for the acts of the original?"

"I would hate to ponder the question," replied the psychiatrist. "It would depend entirely upon the degree of duplication. Yet it seems to run against the grain to make a duplicate responsible for the acts of the original when up to this time the duplicate had no true identity."

"You assume the duplicate would have an identity?"

"If the duplicate is capable of original thought, he has."

"Yet, Dr. Lewis, what comprises identity?"

"The ego is a rather deep subject," replied the doctor thoughtfully. "The question 'What is this that am I?' is one pondered for many thousands of years. It is still without answer--though it is generally accepted that a man is what he is because of his lifetime of experiences."

"Will you expand upon that, doctor?"

The doctor nodded. "A new-born babe has little true identity or individuality. That is because his only experience is almost congruent with all other new-born babes. As he lives, his experiences will differ because of environment and heredity from others--in the case of twins this is true despite the idea that the environment and heredity is identical. It is not. The environment of Twin A includes the life of Twin B, and vice versa. Therefore each twin must evolve a different identity. As a man grows and enjoys experience, each factor changes his personality in some way major or minor, and he emerges a true identity, which, however, is different in some minor way from day to day as his experiences accumulate."

"Then at the instant of duplication, the two persons have approximately the same identity?"

"Yes save for the single fact that one has just been in the process of formation whilst the other was in the process of being recorded. I assume that the two processes are not identical."

"Then," said Cranshaw, facing the jury, "may I point out that no identity was really removed from the face of this earth by this so-called killing. But one birth certificate was issued for Harry Foster. But one Harry Foster lived and grew and became the Harry Foster that many people knew as a motion picture star. A duplicate Harry Foster was made, and then eliminated. Harry Foster was killed--and yet Harry Foster remains! If the law states a life for a life, we have it in the person of the living Harry Foster! He--killed himself."

Cranshaw smiled indulgently. "There are laws concerning suicide," he said. "These laws make suicide a felony. Because of this there have been many jokes made about the penalty for suicide, but there is good reason for such laws. You see, Gentlemen of the Jury, it is not necessary to wait until the burglar emerges from the bank with his coat pockets bulging to arrest him. You may apprehend him while he is drilling his way into the bank for the crime of Attempting To Compound A Felony. An attempt at suicide is, then, an attempt to compound a felony and the would-be suicide may be apprehended for his own protection. Since the penalties for attempted suicide usually consist of compelling the miscreant to undergo psychiatric treatment to remove the obvious mental unrest that gave him the will to self-destruction, I suggest that my client be given the same treatment for the crime of suicide."

He sat down. "Now," he said with a smile, "that should hang that jury higher than a kite. What is the penalty for successful suicide? Not execution--"

"Shut up," snapped Foster.

* * * * *

The jury returned after many hours, and the foreman arose. "Your Honor, we have deliberated this case and find that our decision requires explanation. Suicide we reason, is self-murder. Since suicide requires a certain amount of planning and contemplation, we find the defendant guilty on all charges including Murder in the First Degree!"

The roar of the spectators covered up the judge's words, but Harry Foster heard him pronounce the fatal words.

Tim Woodart turned the key in Jenny Foster's apartment, shoved the door open and stood aside to let her enter. Once in the dim living room, she turned and buried her head in Tim's shoulder.

He held her close and stroked her head with one hand. Over her head he saw the clock on the wall, it registered midnight. "Easy," he said softly. "It's all--over."

She nodded, too filled with emotion and relief to speak.

Then as the sweep-hand crept past the instant of midnight, a sardonic voice came from the easy-chair.

"A very pretty scene."

Jenny whirled, her face white. "Harry!" she said with a quavering voice.

As Tim faced Foster he asked Jenny to call Lieutenant Miller.

Foster laughed again. "Call him," he jeered. "And remember that the Law of the Land makes it impossible for me to be placed in double jeopardy!"

"What's been done before can be done again," said Tim.

"Uh-huh," laughed Foster. "But not punishment. The Law, yer know.

"You see," jeered Foster, "knowing that I am going on and on and on, I merely had Cranshaw make another duplicate of me. Now no one can touch me!"

Jenny turned from the telephone and Tim put an arm about her and led her from the apartment. He left the door open--

"There he is," said Tim, outside. "And you know what he has in mind."

Harry Foster nodded, took out his revolver, and charged in. The quiet apartment was filled with the sudden racket of gunfire, quickly there; quickly stopped.

"Let Miller clean up," said Tim harshly.

"But--?"

"They're equally fast and they're equally forewarned. Tough guy--it took four of him to get rid of him."

THE END