The projector stopped; the scene remained. The image of Harry Foster stood there dumbly. Then it turned vaguely and looked at the camera and the man beside it.
"Hello, hero," sneered Foster.
The image blinked. "I've wondered what might happen," said the spurious Foster.
"Yes," chuckled the real Foster, "we have, haven't we?"
"I—," started the image, but he stopped and looked wildly around. "What do you want?"
"You know."
"I'll not do it! You ... we ... ah ... well, it's no go."
The real Harry Foster sat down in the director's chair. "I've had more time to plan," he said. "You're just an image—"
Foster snarled back, "Not now I'm not. I'm just as real as you are!"
"I'm the original; you came out of that camera."