"All right, all right," State said, mopping his brow. "One of you is Channing and one of you isn't. We can't seem to get at the truth right now, however. I take it you want your job back."
"Yes," said the copy.
"Yes," said Channing.
"Do I give it to both of you? Is your salary doubled?"
"Pretend there is only one," suggested the copy. "Give us one salary. We'll work out our own problem."
"I can't do that, either. One of you is a traitor."
"I've got an idea for you, chief," Channing said. "To your way of thinking, what's a pretty good definition of intelligence?"
"Intelligence? I don't see ... well, it's an ability—yes, an ability to adjust yourself in a rational way to adverse environmental conditions. How's that?"
"That's fine," Channing smiled. "You now have the opportunity to do that, to meet the situation rationally. It will be quite a feather in your cap, chief. What are the adverse conditions? Well, first there's the Targoffian Ambassador and what he's doing. Second, there are the two Bryan Channings. Stop me if I'm wrong: the combination threatens the security of Earth—and threatens your job. That is, you've got to come up with a solution which will satisfy everyone including Health and P. W., and the President is not going to sit on his hands forever."
"I'm listening."