I should just clear, before I continue to chart the course of the Blue Knight, his Quest partner the Spotlight and their thread following exploits, the fate of the schoolteacher Miss Something and her new friend the Copycat.
In the kindergarten, the Copycat, having followed the crocodile all the way back to its schoolroom lair, was being fussed over by the infants therein. The teacher, Miss Something Orother, decided that the Copycat cannot stay in the school room, it is against the rules and regs. The children get upset, gnash and wail, then instantly forget about it. She takes the Copycat home and gives it all the things a cat needs, and some that it doesn’t, a comfortable box, a scratching tree and a picture of a mouse. She names it Ray. Ray sits.
Ms Something has very long hair which she keeps. She moves to a small flat in a busy, buying each thing she finds to describe herself in the mirror. I am like this, she thought, holding her coffee cup with an oriental design, and looking out through the wobbly rain on the window glass. I am like that, she said, seeing her Mobile and Laptop buzzing with energy on her small side table. And now she has a Copycat called Ray who will always love her, as long as she supplies Kittitreats.
The Copycat is entranced by all the attention and decides to please its staff, Ms Something, by providing a copy of everything that she owns.
When she comes home from, she finds that every item in her flat has been duplicated, whilst the Copycat is sitting looking very pleased with its whiskers.
I cannot, says Ms S, I only want one of each to describe myself, can these things be uncopied?
The copycat, unconcerned, turned a back somersault and all the copies went away, except a Mauser automatic and a primus stove. Are you related to Behemoth? Asked Ms S. He is my cousin, offered the Copycat.
What then shall I copy for you, it is after all my raison d’etre and superpower, said Ray. If I cannot copy, I should be just a cat.
I see, said Ms Something, perhaps you could get a job as a printer, 3D or otherwise, and duplicate to your hearts.
It is beneath me, said the cat, I would prefer to copy the moon and stars, blanketing the night sky with light or the fishes in the sea that we may feast eternally and wade through fishy skelingtons. I could copy the love that you give or the pains that you stake. I could double up or double down. But I have always thought that if you are wrong, you should say so and apologise.
You could copy me, said Ms Something thoughtfully, Then one of me could go to care for the children in the Kinder, whilst the other could write poetry, eat Turkish delight and sample the incense.
Consider it done, said the Copy, and another Ms Something appeared on the sofa. The Somethings looked at each other in the eye and said in unison, We can take it in turns.
And so that is what they did. Each day, one of the Ms Ss went to school and the other stayed at home and wrote poetry, the next day they swopped.
One day Ms S 1 wanted milk in her morning coffee whilst the other Ms S wanted black. They looked at each other.
Individuality had caught up with them, and they were not the same.
She asked the Copycat, How long does it take for two identical to become two individual?
It is instant, said the Copycat, At the moment of copy they are one, but as soon as they are two, the universe takes over and bombards them with experience and incident, so that within a millimetre they diverge. A scratch on the surface, a different temperature, order something different in the restaurant, fall for a different guy. Need some new socks, fall in a puddle. Anything and everything diverges our paths, you cannot be the same for any useful length of time.
Example? She asked.
Then and then there were two horses, one wanted to ride into the valley of death with the other 399, the other wanted to stay in the stable and eat oats.
Another example? She asked.
There was once a photon of light which travelled. It came across a choice of directions, it decided to be a particle, and act like a particle does, but it also decided to act like a wave and do what waves do. When it got to its end point, a sunbeam falling upon a flag stone, it had been both, and could not decide.
Fascinating, said Ms S, this is more conunmdrumy than I had thought. Let me, if two are one and not one, then why the Primus and antiquated handgun?
I’m looking after them for my cousin, he is busy staring at the moon, his debt almost paid.
So, you’re not a quantum cat then, pairing copies that remain linked forever young?
No, I am a proud Copycat, creating new objects with a life of their own. Quantum cats wear white coats and never pay for a round at the bar as they are poorly reimbursed.
I shall steer clear, said the Ms’s S, shall we live happily ever after?
We shall, said the Copycat and copied another bottle of wine and tucked into his Kittytreats.
The Guardians of the Cave 