"Thoroughly tested," said Dr. Hudson.
I refrained from smiling. The printers were flabbergasted; they didn't
know what to do or think. The chairman was trying to get his poor
fogged brain together with arguments. The only person besides myself and
Dr. Hudson who seemed to be at ease was the barnstormer, High-Pocket
Jones.
"In-other words," High-Pockets said, "if we are short an operator, I can
walk in that cabinet and you can in a few minutes make another
High-Pockets Jones, who will set type until you put him back into the
cabinet and turn him back into a hundred and sixty pounds of linotype
metal?"
"Precisely." Dr. Hudson smiled and showed his teeth. I could see he was
losing his patience.
"Well," said High-Pockets, "I can see about nine hundred legal questions
right off the bat. Who is going to draw the duplicate's pay? Is the
duplicate entitled to a union card? Is he entitled to overtime? Is he a
man or an automaton?"
"Sorry," said Dr. Hudson. "I am not a legal expert."
* * * * *
High-Pockets walked up to the cabinet and looked inside. I'd swear he
looked as if he knew what all those wires were there for. His deep eyes
took it all in, and then he announced in his booming voice from far
above us. "You're waiting for a volunteer," he said. "I'll be first."
I practically fell over. I think even Dr. Hudson was dumbfounded; we had
not expected unconditional surrender. I was elated.
High-Pockets Jones was seated in the cabinet. Dr. Hudson threw the
switch. After five minutes' humming, a relay clicked. Dr. Hudson opened
the door. High-Pockets Jones, with a deep smile on his weatherbeaten
face, unfolded his long legs and stepped out, holding his head down to
keep from hitting the top of the door-frame.
"How do you feel?" asked Dr. Hudson.
"Excellent," boomed High-Pockets, straightening up.
The physicist went around to the other side, and though I had been
watching these experiments for some time, I give you my word I very
nearly choked on my own tongue when I saw High-Pockets Jones walk out of
the second compartment.
The second High-Pockets produced a worn bill-fold and extracted a pink
union permit.
"I protest this inhuman manipulation of a man's individuality," said the
chairman indignantly; "this is outrageous."
I felt better now. I'd been waiting for that. "Let him go to work," I
said. "We need an operator today, anyway; Bill Smith has the flu. I
will guarantee to pay a man's wages to whomever you say, if this is
found to be illegal."
Under the law, there wasn't much they could do. And I had already taken
the precaution of retaining the best legal counsel in the city.
I was elated when they went to work. I pumped Dr. Hudson's hand and
assured him that we had indeed made spectacular history, and together we
could make millions.
The first trouble came an hour later. One of the High-Pocketses--I
couldn't tell which one--came into the office. "The foreman sent me up
to get some work," he said in his booming voice.
I frowned. What was going on back there? I went back, High-Pockets Jones
was working on his own machine. High-Pockets Jones was also working on
Bill Smith's machine. I looked up quickly. High-Pockets Jones was also
standing beside me.