"Hello," he says, smiling in what might be meant as a friendly manner.

She looks at him. She looks at the barcode on her hand. She looks at her tea, puts her spoon on the saucer, and takes a sip.

"The significance of that symbol is completely opaque to me," he mentions.

Now she looks skeptical. "The barcode?"

"Yes."

"Huh." She smiles a little. "I might want to leave it that way, that's an unusual luxury."

"I admit I'm beginning to develop a guess, but it's based substantially in personal history which may not apply."

"Oh?"

"Mm. What sort of a world are you from? One which contains both widely available print books and reproductive cloning, apparently, but besides that?"

"Reproductive," she snorts. "Earth, currently 2015. No magic."

"Mine has an Earth also, but I don't live there. 2998. No magic. A whole galaxy full of planets with humane and reasonable laws about the possible applications of cloning, and it was just my luck to be produced on the one planet with no humane and reasonable laws about that or anything else."

"I'm luckier than the average clone made in that lab, two times over - I was a substitution plot rather than a brain transplant target, and then I got away."

"Brain transplant," she blinks.

"Yeah. For the rich and decrepit. Old body starts to wear out, no problem; just have 'em grow you a new one. The clone's brain is of course mere waste material, when the time comes. Unethical practices like that are why the rest of the galaxy looks down on that planet."

"Good for the rest of the galaxy, far as that goes. My world's not to that point. So far."

"I was getting that impression, yeah. So what does yours do?"

"Organ harvesting. My original died outright before she needed anything I couldn't live without."

She drops her tea. She saves her book but not her blouse. "Yes," she says, biting her lip and looking around in vain for napkins.

"Thank you." Dab dab. Peeeeer at the books.

"Ashley."

"Nice to meet you. Enjoy the books."

"Nice to meet you too. I have no bio background, but I know some charity workers who might be able to think of something intelligent to do with them."

"Since no other motives have helped," she sighs.

"Have they not?"

"At the source? No. Sometimes someone will have an attack of guilt, but the companies survive the loss of their employees, and by the time the commissioners have this problem they've already fronted the money."

"Ugh," says Mark. "And I imagine it's not a problem that can be solved with assassination or espionage."

"Not straightforwardly, unless you wanted to kill everyone who runs a vat corp and keep doing it until no one's willing to do it."

"Tempting as that option is, I think the books have a better long-term benefit for your world."

"Probably." She stacks them on top of her legal textbook.

Mark smiles.

"Oh - don't worry about it," he shrugs. "Consider it a donation to the cause."

"You want a receipt for your taxes?" she wonders wryly.

He laughs. "It'd be a little difficult to explain."

"Just a bit. And I don't actually work for OOS."

"So. It's really no trouble, anyway, I've got plenty of money. A 'sorry you were trained by my father's enemies to murder and replace me' present from my original."

"I thought daisies were traditional for that occasion," she drawls.

Mark giggles.

"I hope all this biotech doesn't depend on things we don't have."

"I tried to be as comprehensive as possible so if it's a matter of infrastructure you'll know what to aim for and if there are prohibitive differences in biology or physics you'll catch it sooner than later."

"I could've come up with digital copies in the first place but I didn't want to take a chance on the conversions. I'd be worried about translation if you weren't an Earth, but the languages seem pretty solidly consistent between instances of that planet and I know my English and your English are still mutually intelligible."

"Small mercies."

"Yeah."

"I suppose if most of your galaxy is civilized about clones you don't have dedicated charities about the subject."

"No. Nor are we overflowing with dedicated charities about people being variously exploited on Jackson's Whole. Seems to be a regrettably common attitude that anybody who lives there deserves what they get."

"Because didn't they think to read the fine print when checking the box for which planet they'd like to be born on?" says Ashley disgustedly.

"Yeah, exactly. I mean, I'll be the first to admit Jacksonian culture has precious little to recommend it, but that's hardly the fault of the grubbers and clones and sex slaves and brainwashed bodyguards and bio-experiments."

"Oh, it gets worse than just clones slated for brain transplant, does it?"

"And how."

"Oh joy, I had been running out of faith in the bottomlessness of human capacity for evil."

"Sorry to report, it remains as bottomless as ever. But in my world at least, the human capacity for good seems more or less capable of keeping up."

"I know some good people and some mediocre people. Person for person I'd bet on the good ones. Throw capital into the mix and it's a free for all."

"I have known some staggeringly evil people, and some people who didn't distinguish themselves much either way, and some decent people. And then there's my brother - my original, if you like - who is a shining beacon of goodness inspiring everyone in his path. He hardly even knows he's doing it, it's amazing."

"Good for him," she says, looking out at the stars.

"Yes."

Ashley doesn't volunteer a comment on her own original. "All that and he has the wherewithal to make your very expensive apology present. Maybe he'll get somewhere."

"You don't know the half of it."

"Oh?"

"A few choice highlights from my brother's career so far: When he was seventeen he blundered into the middle of a war, stole part of the winning side's army with a combination of charisma and outrageous lies, and won the war with it. Last year he liberated an entire POW camp, ten thousand prisoners, from conditions that managed to strictly follow the letter of every galactic regulation on the subject while still amounting to psychological torture. Had to go undercover as a prisoner to do it, too."

She smiles slightly. "Impressive. Rather dramatic."

"Those are both accurate descriptions of my brother."

"I'm glad your origins on the evil planet of evil have a happy denouement."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."