Millennium

Transcriber's note. This etext was produced from Astounding Science Fiction May 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
There are devices a high-level culture could produce that simply don't belong in the hands of incompetents of lower cultural evolution. The finest, and most civilized of tools can be made a menace ...
Liewen Konar smiled wryly as he put a battered object on the bench. Well, here's another piece recovered. Not worth much, I'd say, but here it is.
Obviously, it had once been a precisely fabricated piece of equipment. But its identity was almost lost. A hole was torn in the side of the metal box. Knobs were broken away from their shafts. The engraved legends were scored and worn to illegibility, and the meter was merely a black void in the panel. Whatever had been mounted at the top had been broken away, to leave ragged shards. Inside the gaping hole in the case, tiny, blackened components hung at odd angles.
Klion Meinora looked at the wreckage and shook his head.
I know it's supposed to be what's left of a medium range communicator, he said, but I'd never believe it. He poked a finger inside the hole in the case, pushing a few components aside. Beyond them, a corroded wheel hung loosely in what had once been precision bearings.
Where's the power unit?
Konar shook his head. No trace. Not much left of the viewsphere, either.
Well. Meinora shook his head resignedly. It's salvage. But we got it back. He stood back to look at the communicator. Someone's been keeping the outside clean, I see.
Konar nodded. It was a religious relic, he said. Found it in an abbey. He reached into the bag he had placed on the floor.
And here's a mental amplifier-communicator, personnel, heavy duty. Slightly used and somewhat out of adjustment, but complete and repairable. He withdrew a golden circlet, held it up for a moment, and carefully laid it on the bench beside the wrecked communicator. Its metal was dented, but untarnished.