"And what are you going to do about it?" asked Kingman. "Take me to court, Channing. Go ahead. Get some litigation started."
"Oh, sure. And you'll tie the thing up for seventy years. And all the time the plant here will be duplicating the whole solar system into the worst mess it ever got itself into. Better stop until we can get something sensible figured out to take care of the conversion."
"That in itself will take ten years," said Kingman. "Meanwhile, money is still of value because the thing is not widespread. People will buy and sell, and I'm going to buy up enough to keep me and mine in the running until things settle down. You have no idea how much stuff is needed to keep a man running for ten years, Channing. Especially when you try to store it all away at once. Oh, sure. Recordings. I know. I'm making them. Also making recordings of everything that I can think of that I might like. But getting the originals takes money at the present time, and I am going to ride the inflation market right up to the peak by being one step ahead all the way."
"How?"
"When butter is ten dollars a pound, Channing, I'll be producing and selling its equivalent at fifteen."
"Very nice picture, Kingman. But it doesn't work that way. You're licked."
"Am I?"
"You're licked. You'll be no better off than any of us in the long run. What happens when everybody has duplicators in their own homes and are having their Sunday dinner coming out of the gadget complete; hot, delicious, and costlessly complete from the salt-cellar to the butter square? What price butter?"
"That'll happen," admitted Kingman. "But by the time it does, I'll be set to weather the storm."
"You make it sound very easy, Mark. But it isn't going to work that way."