"Well, you're worth the same as any cat," grinned Walt.
"Thanks," grunted Keg. "Don't tell me that you guys were worried?"
"Nope. We came to give you a hunk of something interesting. Wes Farrell hauled it out of space, electrons, and considerable high-powered theory. Identium. Corrosion-proof, inert, malleable, but hard enough for coins, and you can roll it out into ten-thousandths sheets and use it for paper money. But don't ever put it into a duplicator. It'll blow the top right off of your roof if you do. There's our medium of exchange, Keg."
"Now," breathed Keg, "we can all get back to normal. Thanks, fellows."
"The government is making the stuff in reams," said Don. "It won't be too long before you'll be able to pay Hansen what he's really worth, as well as the rest of your crew. But in spite of this trinket, Life has still made a big change. I can foresee the four-hour week right now."
"It's here and been here for some time," said Keg. "But—Hey! Linna!"
Keg's wife entered. She was clad in hospital whites and was carrying a tray.
"Hello, Keg," she said solemnly. Keg hadn't heard that tone of voice for years.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Someone had to help. I was doing nothing and so I pitched in to help Dr. Hansen when he worked on you. He said I did fine."