THE AGENT

A man on the cusp of middle-age, he speaks with a crisp German accent. He has recently purchased a home in Denver, and he proudly shows me around the property before settling in to tell his story.

I was informed of the machines' existence before most people, I suspect. Saturday, May 1, 2027, according to my notes. We were called to a meeting with "the brass" at the D.C. office.

This was unusual.

When I arrived at headquarters, I was escorted to a SCIF. That's what they call the rooms where secrets are shared.

I knew this would be a serious matter when the door opened and I saw the others gathered. These were the best field agents in the country. By the time everyone had filtered in, I counted 73 attendees, including myself.

Then the speaker appeared. We all knew him. A decorated man.

He stepped up to the lectern at the front of the room and began in a matter–

Can you say who the man was?

I am unwilling to reveal his name, out of personal respect for him.

Could you share his title, or job description at that time?

Mmm. Yes, I suppose. He was a GENERAL. As I was saying, he began in a very matter-of-fact way. He informed us that what we were about to see was, of course, of the most confidential nature. Then he activated the screen behind us and showed us an image. A bird's-eye view of an office complex in San Francisco. Alphacorp. He said that a week prior, a very advanced piece of technology had been stolen from Alphacorp's lab. The company had not filed an official complaint over this theft. Rather, two local police officers became aware of the robbery while it was in progress. They stumbled upon the break-in as it was in progress, and decided to investigate.

Once inside, the officers discovered a suspicious amount of precious metals being hoarded in the bowels of one of Alphacorp's buildings. They snapped some photos and wisely contacted federal agents with the evidence. My agency became involved. Our California office rounded up a number of Alphacorp's C-level officers and subjected them to intensive interrogation. After only a few hours, almost all of them broke and began sharing details of the machine they'd been building.

THE GENERAL then showed us a picture of the machine. I remember thinking how... unassuming the device appeared.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, THE GENERAL spoke. He said that three machines were known to be stolen, but that "more might be out there." This was confusing for us in the room. One fellow said "Do you mean that Alphacorp isn't the only one making them?" And THE GENERAL said no, they were only coming from Alphacorp. But that we simply didn't know how many machines might be floating around along with the three stolen ones.

THE GENERAL went on to stress that these machines were a serious national security threat. He said it would be our job to gather evidence that might point other law enforcement agencies to the location of the stolen machines. Ten of us would be assigned to California. Forty-nine others would be assigned to the other states, one per state. And the remaining agents would be split evenly between Canada and Mexico. THE GENERAL said it was doubtful the machines had left the country. And, I thought to myself, that was all fine and well, however no one had yet bothered to tell us what the machines were.

As if sensing my thought, THE GENERAL announced that he wasn't at liberty to say exactly what the machines were capable of. This set off a round of grumbling among the agents. One lady—I believe from Kentucky—stood up and said, "Look here now, you all are gonna have to tell us what these things can do, or otherwise we aren't going to know what we're looking for."

THE GENERAL grimaced as others spoke up in agreement. Instead of saying anything in response, he simply held up a hand, with a finger pointed skyward. Like, "One minute." And he walked out of the room.

I happened to be seated close to the door. As it closed behind THE GENERAL, I stuck out my foot to stop it. Then I listened through the crack. I could hear the great man consulting with someone on the phone. He said, "If we don't trust them, we will fail." And there was a bit of back-and-forth. But it wasn't long before he said, "Thank you, sir." I quietly withdrew my foot and allowed the door to close, and just a few moments later THE GENERAL strode back into the room.

Back at the lectern, he fixed us with a hard gaze. And then he spoke. "The machines can copy things. Almost anything, as far as we can tell. Guns, money, drugs. If it can fit in the machine, it can be copied." We were stunned.

The lady from Kentucky spoke up again. She said, "Food?"

"Any food," THE GENERAL said.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"Gold?" another voice said.

THE GENERAL paused. Then he nodded. "Gold. Silver. Diamonds. Anything."

That sucked the air out of the room. Someone in the back made a scoffing noise. Like "pshh."

THE GENERAL noticed. He said, "Question, agent?" And the man stood up. An older gentleman, white hair, slicked back, pencil thin mustache. He said, "A machine that prints anything? I don't question your word, sir, but you must admit it sounds a bit fantastical."

There were nods. That lasted only a moment. All heads snapped to attention as THE GENERAL stepped into the crowd, drawing closer to the doubtful gentleman. He stood there with a sort of pained expression on his face. And then he said, "I've seen one in action myself. We seized one from Alphacorp." He let that hang there, for a moment. Then he reached into his jacket pocket, and said, "In fact, I used a replicator to make this." Then he withdrew a massive gold bar. I was close enough to see that it perfectly matched Good Delivery specifications.

What does that mean?

It was 400 troy-ounces. Twelve-point-four kilograms. Precisely the sort of gold bar which is used in trade between major international markets. Worth well over half a million dollars. And, THE GENERAL told us, the people at Alphacorp had been using reps to create thousands of bars exactly like it. This was the explanation for the discovery at Alphacorp's headquarters. Someone there had printed about a billion dollars in gold.

After THE GENERAL revealed this information, it became quite clear to us why we needed to find these machines, and quickly. If word got out that gold could be printed so easily, gold's value would collapse overnight. And then, of course, the same would go for every other precious jewel or metal. The impact on the global economy would be unimaginably disastrous. At least, we were not capable of imagining the impact at the time.

THE GENERAL did not give us long to process his revelation. He began handing out folders with assignments to each of the agents in the room. I received mine, and was pleased to discover I would be going to Colorado. This was pleasing to me, as I have always quite liked Colorado's thin, cold mountain air. It reminds me of my childhood. Growing up outside of Munich, I spent much time as a youth exploring the Bavarian Alps.

The agent pauses, lost in time for a moment, then clears his throat.

The day after the briefing, I set out for Denver. Upon arrival, I began contacting banks, pawn shops, and jewelry stores to inquire about any transactions involving particularly large quantities of precious jewels or metals. It was my assumption that anyone in possession of such a machine would find the prospect of quickly enriching themselves to be irresistible. The first day, I had no luck. Of course, none of the agents in the other states—with whom I was actively sharing notes—were reporting any strong leads either.

But on the evening of the second day, May 3, I encountered an owner of a small time "cash for gold" business in Cañon City, Colorado. He reported a strange occurrence. An older woman, perhaps in her 70s, had entered the shop with a number of gold rings. Four of them, to be exact. Upon inspection, he realized that all of the rings possessed the exact same inscription on the inside of the band: "James & Charlotte, 1974." The owner of the shop did not know what to make of this, because the bands were indeed legitimate. Fourteen-karat yellow gold. He asked the woman why each of the rings shared the same inscription, and she said that her husband had wanted one for each of his ring fingers, and also a backup for each. Thus, four wedding bands.

The owner thought this was strange, but saw no reason to believe the rings were fraudulent, so he purchased them for $300 each. He said he had thought nothing more about it, until I appeared in his store and asked some questions. "Have you processed any strange transactions? Perhaps an unusual amount of gold or jewelry?" That is all I had to say to the store owner to trigger his memory.

After he told me of the woman with the rings, I asked him if he had collected any information on her. He checked his records, and was able to retrieve her credit card information, which included her name. It was [REDACTED]. From there, it was not difficult at all to find Mrs. [REDACTED]. I looked her up in a government database and discovered her address.

With her address in hand, I simply waited until the next morning to go visit her. I woke up at 6:00am and drove to Mrs. [REDACTED]'s home. It was tucked away in the woods. Quite a cozy home. When I knocked on the door, she scurried to open it. As soon as I showed her my badge, she broke down. Crying, crying.

I said, "Ma'am, why are you crying?"

And she said, "You ain't gonna take it, are you?"

Well, I knew my search was over, then. I told the poor woman, no, but I do need to take some pictures of the machine. She was weeping, and saying she was sorry. And that she had only needed a little money for the bills.

I told her there was no reason to be sorry, that she wasn't going to be in trouble. I did not know this for a fact, of course, because I am not the one who decides whether or not people will be in trouble. But it seemed clear to me that this couldn't have been the person who stole the machines from Alphacorp. Mrs. [REDACTED] went to the kitchen to make some tea while I snapped photos of her machine. I texted them to my boss at headquarters, and he immediately replied to say that a team was on its way to retrieve the machine and the poor old woman. This troubled me, because I knew she would be interrogated. They would want to know how she got the machine. I asked for reassurances that she would be treated gently, and my boss said he would do everything in his power to make it so.

While I spoke on the phone, Mrs. [REDACTED] returned with one of those little tea trays, complete with the funny little French cookies. What are those called?

Macaroons?

Precisely. Macaroons. I went to the woman, and sat down on the couch with her. I told her that men were coming to take the machine after all. And that they would need to speak with her, to find out where she got it. She dried her tears, squeezed my hand, and said she understood. And she said—more to herself than to me—that she would "just have to be brave." I asked her what she meant, and she said, "I'm not telling a goddamned soul about how I got that machine." This made me laugh, and she laughed too.

According to other sources I have, the widespread search and seizure of the replicators in Colorado began shortly after. So I assume she told what she knew?

Search and seizures began the very next day, but we didn't discover the real source of the machines until we caught another man who'd also come into possession of a rep. He was the one that started talking about THE CUSTODIAN'S family. The poor old woman kept quiet, true to her word.

She never gave up anything?

Nothing. Well... except for the tea. All the agents drank tea that day.