“Last night. I couldn’t sleep and you were doing fine. I came here and found a very red—eyed Professor Coypu staring at the screen, worrying at the same worry that was worrying me. A what—if.”

“Which what—if?”

“What if a Slakey is still out there somewhere. What if he builds a big enough interuniversal transporter to grab and transport that unhildecnovum sphere to another universe? The Slakeys would get away and start the whole deadly cycle over again. Between us we worked out a solution. We got a hydrogen bomb from stock, fixed it up with a molebind, a molecular binder that makes it part of the sphere.”

“And,” Coypu said, “it contains a detector. If the sphere does go somewhere it gets there as a mushroom cloud. If that thing goes away the bomb goes off.”

“But if he doesn’t try to move the sphere, why then he is still very much alive in his multiple bodies?” Angelina asked with irresistible female logic. “What do we do to get rid of this possibly eternal threat?”

The professor and I sighed a duet of sighs.

“We have experts working on other possibilities,” I said. “We have prepared our dilemma as an abstract problem that will be presented on all of the tests given in every philosophy department in every university in the galaxy. Someone, somewhere, may come up with the answer. Meanwhile—all we can do is watch.”

“Forever? Some legacy for our grandchildren. And theirs until the nth generation.”

It was all too depressing to think of and I changed the subject.

“At least we have done something for Slakey’s victims. The women from Purgatory, the ones who didn’t need hospitalization that is, have all gone to the planets of their choice. With lifetime pensions—mostly paid for—by the seizure of Slakey’s various properties. The same thing has been done for the miners—with the exception of one. Buboe is on the way to a hospital for the criminally insane, to see if he might be cured.”

’What about those poor creatures in Hell’?” Angelina asked. “Can’t anything be done for them?”

“A lot. Since they can’t leave Hell we will have to do the best we can for them there. Interstellar charities have already put up temporary—and air—conditioned—buildings for them. Volunteers are giving them medical treatment, meals, outdoor barbecues, booze, counseling, that sort of thing. Since they can never leave Hell, permanent provision must be made for them. They should be self—supporting soon.”

Angelina’s eyebrows rose at that. “Self—supporting—in Hell?”

“There is no accounting for taste,” I said. “A firm named Holidays in Hell has already been formed and the first tourists are happily on their way. They photograph the natives—for a fee. Grill steaks on the lava, shudder when the gravity waves grab them. Generally have a frightening but safe time.”

“Outrageous! I hope that old red devil Slakey shoots and eats them.”

“Alas, that is not possible now. Before we got there the locals grew tired of being shot at and, well, sort of had him for dinner.” “Wonderful! They can cook up all the rest of the Slakeys as far as I’m concerned. That would be a good solution. Which reminds me. A question or two, Professor, something that has been bothering me for a long time. Why so many Slakeys—and how did he do it?” As usual, Coypu had all the answers. “The answer to your first question is obvious. Who else could he trust? He wanted to keep eternal life for himself. So he went into partnership with himselves to set up the operation. As to how he duplicated himself, I discovered that by accident. You will remember that we obtained the frequency settings from one of their machines for many other universes. That is how I found you on Glass and brought you back. When I have had the time I have been investigating some of the other universes. Some of them are rather nasty. To keep under budget and not lose too many machines I constructed an armor—plated recorder that I sent through to measure temperature, gravity density, air pressure and contents, the usual things. I was greatly surprised when it returned from Gemelli, which I named this universe for obvious reasons, with a replica of itself. A little bit of research showed me that all of the radiation frequencies are doubled there. So matter from our universe is doubled as well when it returns here. Interesting phenomenon. So every time Slakey needed reinforcements he popped in and out of Gemelli. You know that you are the second person to ask me that question today.” “Who was the other?”

“Me.” Sybil said, walking in through the door and smiling happily. “Mr. and Mrs. diGriz—I would very much like to call you Mom and Dad. I can conceal it no longer. I am madly in love with your son and wish to marry him.”

“Which one?” Angelina asked.

“Both of them,” Sybil said walking in through the door again. The same words were spoken by both Sybils at the same time.

I looked from one to the other and for the first time in my life was at a loss for words. Angelina wasn’t.

“You have duplicated yourself. You are now two Sybils.”

“Of course. I had no choice,” she said with impeccable female logic. “I was in love with your sons, and love can always find a way.”

“Have you broken the good news to them yet?”

“Not yet,” the Sybils said in unison. ‘~But I know they love me, women can tell, just as much as I love them. But they are both too noble, honest, brave and irreverent to ask for my hand because it would mean the other one losing out. That problem has now been solved.”

“Indeed it has,” Angelina said firmly, with the instant decision women make in matters of the heart. “And what do you say, Jim?”

“I say it is up to the boys to decide.”

She nodded agreement.

“They should be here soon,” the doubled voice said. “I sent a message before I came.”

James and Bolivar came in at that moment and did the best double act of double—takes I had ever seen in my life. Before they could speak each Sybil stepped forward and seized a twin and kissed him with passion. The response, I could tell, was equally passionate.

“I love you,” Sybil breathed. “From the bottom of my heart, with all the depth of my being. Do you love me?”

That, as you might very well realize, was that. Angelina and I, smiling happily, joined hands and turned our backs on the embracing couples, sat and began to discuss their wedding plans.

It would be the grandest social occasion the Special Corps Prime Base had ever seen.

I snapped my fingers at the robar, which produced a chilled bottle of sparkling wine, opened it dexterously with its two right hands, poured and passed us brimming glasses. We clinked and drank.

“A toast,” I said, “Can you think of one?”

“Of course. To the future newlyweds. And may their lives be filled with happiness.”

“Like ours,” I said.

“Of course.”

We kissed and drank the toast. Over Angelina’s shoulder I could see the screen with the image of that monstrous black sphere.

I turned my back on it, not wanting to spoil this memorable day. Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Neither could Angelina.

“Do we have enough money in the bank to buy a cyclotron?” she asked.

I nodded. “We could even afford a coal mine as well. Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking. What a wonderful and unusual wedding present we could give the newlyweds.