"In the eyes of the law, I fear it is."
"But if you return a—a citizen to Qui Dor and the citizen ceases to exist because he's no longer needed for the job—it does work that way, doesn't it, Mrs. Delacourt?"
"Yes."
"Then you'd be guilty of murder, taking the life away from the Qui Dor creation, I mean. It's complicated."
"No, it isn't. It's simple. You'd be guilty of nothing. Esse es percipi, Mr. Channing. No one's been murdered. There's no corpse. No one exists."
"I give up," said Channing. "Mrs. Delacourt, I can sympathize with you. For personal reasons, I can understand your problem. But right now there isn't a thing I can do about it. However, I'm going to see Qui Dor this morning and possibly something can be arranged to your mutual satisfaction."
Mrs. Delacourt had hardly heard him. "Yet esse should be more than percipi," she was mumbling. "There should be more to existing than merely being perceived, don't you think? It would all be so—so empty, so meaningless that way. They can make any legal decision they wish: I am more than something which is seen or touched or ... or tasted. Not merely myself, Mr. Channing. The people. All the people. You. Are you only the various qualities of sense, an image in my mind, an idea? Are you?"
"I don't know," Channing admitted.
"If you are, if we all are, it's a sinister plot against the people. Civilization is ruined. Qui Dor's creations shall surely take over. Why, before you know it, women will stop having babies. No pain, no nuisance, no chance of congenital illness."
"I know exactly what you mean," Channing declared ruefully. "I've got to see Qui Dor, though, Mrs. Delacourt."