The Amelia Project - Episode 64 - Granville T. Woods (1909)

Episode Date: May 26, 2023

"May have invented doomsday machine..." In this episode The Interviewer and Kozlowski (Langston) are based in London, running The Daily Phoenix newspaper with their assistants Salinger and Joe. Of course the newspaper is actually a front for the death faking business... and on November 4th 1909, an African American inventor known as "the black Edison" visits The Daily Phoenix. He may just have invented something that will change the world... This episode was written by Oystein Ulsberg Brager with sound design by Alexander Danner. It features Alan Burgon, Tim Meredith, Ben Meredith, Hemi Yeroham, David S. Dear, Jordan Cobb and Erin King. It is dedicated to Grace Colum. Full credits on our website. Website: https://ameliapodcast.com  Transcripts: https://ameliapodcast.com/transcripts Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ameliapodcast Donations: https://ameliapodcast.com/support Twitter: https://twitter.com/amelia_podcast Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ameliapodcast/ Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ameliapodcast Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Cold tapes. A gripping crime story that will chill you to the bone. You know, life on the base means, well, it's close to six months without light. That does things to people that study that he was doing to watch us and then set off us like mice around this special little experiment how many people are on this base 16 on this one someone amongst them is our killer experience cold tapes the murder mystery podcast game start your investigation where you get your is our killer. Experience Cold Tapes, the murder mystery podcast game. Start your investigation

where you get your podcasts. This episode is dedicated to Grace Collum, our first patron who is in fact a ghost. Whilst possessing a human body, Grace will be crushed inside a haunted house.

Grace will then be resurrected as the new pumpkin king and a dazzling host of Halloween parties. Thank you for your support, Grace, and we hope you enjoy this new episode. Morning. Listen. What's the news, Salinger? Not news. There's a telegram. If it isn't news, I'm not interested. We have 16 pages to fill.

The Daily Phoenix goes to print in a matter of hours and I don't want to end up printing speculations about Prince George's ingrown toenail again. I think you'll want to read this. It's because he wears his boots too tight. The telegram's not for the newspaper. Just like his grandmother. It's for the wears his boots too tight. The telegram's not for the newspaper. Just like his grandmother. It's for the Brotherhood.

Oof! Give it here. Hmm. Coming on steamship. Stop. Arriving November 4th. Stop. May have invented doomsday... Oh! Coming on steamship. Stop. Arriving November 4th. Stop. May have invented doomsdayhip. Stop. Arriving November 4th.

Stop. May have invented doomsday machine. Stop. Sending babies ahead. Stop. Hands off. Granville T. Woods, inventor. Thank you. The Amelia Project by Philip Thorne and Øystein Ulsbeck-Braga with music and sound direction by Frederik Baden

and sound design by Alexander Danner. Episode 64. Granville T. Woods. 1909. Afternoon, sir. To fit the update on the assassination of the Governor General of Japan on tomorrow's front page, should I move the... Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Salinger? Yes? What is that? That is a wrapped doorframe. Don't be a Weisenheimer, Salinger. Yes? What is that? That is a wrapped doorframe. Don't be a Weisenheimer, Salinger.

But that's what it is. I can see that. What I want to know is why there is a doorframe wrapped in brown paper standing in the middle of my office. It was delivered this morning. There's another one down in the loading bay, but I haven't had time to... Salinger, Salinger, Salinger, I have not ordered a doorframe. No, sir. Never mind two doorframes.

No, sir. I don't need any doorframes. No, sir. No, sir. So why have these doorframes been delivered to me? I have no idea, sir. Then why don't you send them back? There's no return address. Right. Okay. Right. Right, okay, right.

In that case, let's open it. Maybe it's made out of candy. No, no, it's made out of metal. Who needs a door frame with no door in it? Maybe it's not a door frame. What else would it be? A picture frame? There's no picture in it either.

Well, that there looks like a button. Maybe it's a lamp? In the shape of a door frame. Nothing's happening. Whatever this thing is, it's not doing what it's supposed to do. Salinger, this piece of junk is clogging up my office. Can you please move it? Where, sir? There's no room. The whole building is chock-a-block with journalists and typewriters and little trollies. Throw it out, Salinger!

I don't have time. Salinger! I could do that after work. Fine. But in the meantime, why don't you put it up against the actual doorframe? Then at least it's out of the way. I'm trying to run a newspaper here, not a jumble sale. Yes, sir.

Sir, will you lend me a hand? No, no, no, no. I have a bad back. Right. I'll do it myself, then. Good. There you go. Come on, put your back into it. Small legs. A little bit more.

You're about four minutes off that side. Yes, there we are. That's it, yes. Great. Ah, yes. Yes, in front of the door frame. You hardly notice it's there. Now we... Yes.

So, Friday's front page, sir. To fit the update of the assassination of Japan's Governor General, should I move Lord Brabazon's live cargo flight or the piece on the spikane free speech practice? Moving Lord Brabazon? Are you mad? He is the first man ever to take a pig on an airplane.

Well, yes, but... This is the day pigs can fly, Salinger. So the free speech, then? Do you know how many things were predicted to happen on the day pigs can fly? I believe that's just a turn of phrase. Thousand, Salinger. Millions of impossible things. Today. Today they may all happen. Or not.

Oh, have some faith, Salinger. We run a newspaper. The more impossible things happen, the more we have to write about. Tomorrow's front page, sir. I do need an answer. Move the search for the SS Waratah.

We need a human. Interest stories, sir. 211 people missing at sea. It's a great way to... I know how many people are missing at sea, Salinger. You and I know better than anyone how many people are missing at sea. We are, in fact, the only ones who know where they are. Yes, I know, sir.

But for the newspaper... Making a passenger ship with 211 people disappear. I mean, what a feat, Salinger. What a feat! Yes, sir. I would like to try an even bigger passenger ship next time. Well, then let's hope that more than 211

people want to fake their deaths at the same time. As for the front page... Did you hear about the ship called Titanic? It's being built over an island. I should look into that. Tomorrow's front page, sir. Salinger, Salinger, Salinger. Do you want your contract to be extended to 1910?

To next year? Well, obviously... Or 1911? Or even 1912? Yes, sir. Then move the SS Waratah. You are the editor, sir. Yes, I... Oh, and Salinger. Yes?

How did the morning edition turn out? I'll bring you a copy as soon as it arrives from print. Lovely. Morning, Langston. Good morning, Salinger. You know, Langston, I do think this is the best we've ever been. Is it? Well, look at us.

At the front of the building, a booming daily newspaper. At the back of the building, a popular local butcher shop. And in between the two, a popular local butcher shop. And in between the two, we have to find time to run a death-faking business. I have a question. Oh? What's that, Langston? When there are always steak chops to cut and sausage meat to grind, when do you see me doing surgery on our clients?

I got you that industrial meat grinder, didn't I? It can grind half a cow in two minutes. Yes, but someone needs to operate the machine and clean it. I've told you you should get an apprentice. I did. Joe started yesterday. Great. So far he has cut off two of his fingers and one of his toes. Listen, Langston, what we have here is the perfect business trifle. A layer of sophisticated journalism on top of some prime-ribbon turkey legs covering up a sweet, sticky, amoral enterprise. Hmm, if you say so. When is the inventor coming?

The telegram didn't specify a time. Have you seen any of the babies he mentioned? No, not a single embryo, infant or toddler has arrived. I am stumped as to what he could have meant. Oh, that might be him. Come in. Hi, uh, Mr. Langston, sir... Stuff me with mincemeat and call me a pie! You've transformed yourself from a 50-year-old Afro-American

inventor into a malnourished European teenage invalid. With skills like that, I don't see what you need us for. That is not Granville Tea Woods. That is my new apprentice, Joe. Oh, I see. Yes, well, that makes more sense.

Are your fingers growing back fine? Not really. Why are you here back fine? Not really, but... Why are you here, Joe? Well, I need to talk to... Joe, I asked you to stay in the butcher shop. I said never to come up to the newspaper. So why are you here? Well, it's...

We have deliveries coming today. Do you remember? Yes, the thing is that... When they arrive, it is very important that you do exactly as I said. Now, what did I say, Joe? You said that I should cut and display the beef, but... But? But the crates that are now shut must be put in the back,

and I should never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever ask any questions about them, but... Good boy. Now, run off and do that. But the thing is, the beef arrived. Yes? Well, there's a lot of blood. You'll work at a butcher shop, Joe. Yes. Deal with it. Of course, sir. Yes, teaching isn't your strong suit, is it? I will transform into the greatest mentor you have ever seen. As soon as I get a protege with an iota of talent. Yes, well...

What now, Joe? Just come back in. I said just enter. Hello. I need help. I am so sorry. I thought it was someone else. Why do I need help. I am so sorry. I thought it was someone else. Why do you need help? He's after me.

Who is? I am. You're what? After me. Who is? I am. You're what? After me. Who is? I am. You're what? After me. Who is? I am. No, no, no, no. This isn't working. Look, take a deep breath and calm down. Okay. I'm calm. Good. Mr. Woods. That's me. Pleasure to meet you. Welcome to the Brotherhood of the Phoenix. I am your interviewer today, and this is Langston, our surgeon.

Pleasure. Is this rinky-dink newspaper supposed to be your cover operation? It's a fabulous cover operation. Anyone could come to report something at a newspaper. We also have a butcher shop at the back of the building, which makes it easy to transport replacement corpses in and out. to transport replacement corpses in and out. Hmm, right. It's just, uh... Sorry, I expected something more secret. We are hiding in plain sight, Mr. Woods.

Hmm, I see. Please, take a seat. We would love to hear your story. The telegram mentioned a doomsday machine. I have to say, that sounds terrifyingly exciting. And if you're not Phoenix material, we can always use it as a front page story. No, no, no, no. You cannot. Not under any circumstance. So, tell us why you're here.

Well, I'm here because when it came to killing what was closest to me, I couldn't. Is that a metaphor? It's not. It sounds like Abraham. Do you remember, Langston? We had everything set up. A mountaintop, you were posing as a burning bush. Isaac insisted his dad would kill him

if he thought that God was requesting that. But alas, the old fart just wouldn't do it. What's this dingbat on about? Ignore him. Please tell us, what or who did you fail to kill? Myself. You attempted suicide? No, suicide is a weak man's game. I'm a bit confused. I must admit, I am too. Well, what do you think I am? What? What happened to me has been nickel and diming me something awful, and the story just isn't that easy to tell.

Why not? Because it is about me failing. More than failing. I don't know where to start. How about just telling us about yourself? Like what? Well, who do I have before me? Who is Mr. Woods?

Right. My name is Granville Taylor Woods, and I am an inventor. And even if I don't like saying it, I think I have just become the most significant inventor of this young century, heck, of the whole millennium. Really? More significant than Thomas Edison, Alexander Graham Bell, Nikola Tesla? I just outdid them all.

How? Could I have a drink? My mouth is quite dry. Must be all the paper in this building. How about some seltzer? Ah, yes, thank you. There you are, Mr. Woods. Thank you.

I have been working as a mechanical and electrical engineer since 1880. In that time, I have obtained nearly 60 patents for my inventions, including for the automatic brake and the egg incubator. I have made improvements to technologies like the safety circuit, telegraph, telephone, and phonograph. I've improved theater lightings and electrical contactor rails. Boy, I've even powered a roller coaster at Coney Island. I've always been really jazzed about fairgrounds. Anyhow, that's me.

But all this would be an incredible achievement for any man. And I hope you do not mind me saying, but it must have been even harder doing all that as a black man. But it must have been even harder doing all that as a black man. I don't mind you saying it's the truth. I had to educate myself by working in railroad machine shops and steel mills. To get hold of the books I needed to read, I often had to ask white friends to check out library books for me. But in the end, I made myself an inventor.

And I have lived and breathed my passion for 30 years and even had a rather cushy life. Congratulations. I'm glad to hear there's hope. Well, in that time, I have obtained nearly 60 patents, sure, but I don't want to count how many patents I've lost to a white man's copy. Not so hopeful after all, then. To a white man's copy. Not so hopeful after all, then. There is hope.

And despair. Life is full of paradoxes, after all. I have been called the Black Edison. Which is truly ironic, since Thomas Edison is one of the people who tried to steal my patents. Twice I defeated him. Twice I won my patent back. And the second time, he went and offered me a position at his company. The nerve.

You didn't take it? No. Well, fate has granted me troubles and challenges, but also incredible success. This latest feat of mine. Hubris never ends well, does it? What kind of hubris? Dabbling in the power of creation. Which is why I am here.

To get expert help getting out of this predicament. Although all I've seen so far are journalists running around like headless chickens. And I'm sure if I go down to your butcher shop, I'll see chickens running around like headless journalists. It might look chaotic, but behind every bead of sweat and every stain of ink, we run a foolproof system. Who is this fool? How was I supposed to know? Salons are not not. What has happened? What's happened? I'll

tell you what's happened. This idiot has ruined today's paper. What? How did he manage that? Well, I needed something to wrap the bloody steaks in, didn't I? Before I got to the loading bay, this pinhead went and bought all of the newspapers into the butchers and started wrapping steaks in them. Then he put a thick layer of newspapers on the floor to soak up the excess blood. Now I have thousands of newspapers covered in blood and we can't sell a single one of them.

Well, in my defence, it seemed like a really good idea. Well, we do print a run of 80,000 copies. I mean, he can't have spilled blood on every single one. I would not put it past him. Joe? Well, they were really bloody. I think you should come down and see for yourself, sir. Well, he's your apprentice.

Whom you told me to hire. Yes, but the butcher shop is your domain. It is the newspaper that has a problem. The butcher shop is apparently doing fine. The blood has been cleaned up. There is a tiny little bit of paper on the floor. I'll go sort out this mess. Now, can we bolt the door shut?

I've been saying that we just shot stinks anyway. How could I know? So, where were we? You were running a foolproof system. Uh, no system is proofed against

stupidity, Mr. Woods. You don't say. Now, would that make a neat segue back into your story? I suppose. Now, what did you invent? In 1885, I patented an apparatus I called the telegraphony. It is a combination of a telephone and a telegraph. It allows you to send voice and telegraph messages through Morse code over a single wire.

That sounds fascinating, but not likely to cause doomsday. In 1887, I patented the synchronous multiplex railway telegraph, which allows communications between train stations and moving trains. I have dabbled in most anything mechanical or electrical throughout my career, but it has always been the idea of movement, of travel, that has interested me the most. I have been fascinated by how electrical signals can transmit information, how a telephone can transport a voice. Have you ever heard of the radio crystal detector? It was patented by Jagadish Chandra Bose eight years ago.

He uses high-frequency signals to send information wirelessly. Wirelessly? As in through the air? Guglielmo Marconi and Carl Ferdinand Braun were just awarded the Nobel Prize for Physics for developing a wireless telegraph system also using radio waves. Hmm. And where are you going with this? The telephone is an incredible invention. You can talk to someone miles away, communicate important work messages, or just say, I love you. But you wouldn't need to send your voice halfway across the world, would you, if you could simply step into the room.

Right. I'm back. Did you sort out the mess? I did. And you have no idea how fast I was. I left the room, and quick as the wind, I was down in the loading bay. I don't even remember going down the stairs. And the newspapers? Well, there is a new print run coming in an hour. I gave them all an earful, mind you.

Swore like a sailor. Fired three men on the spot. That is unlike you. Yes, well, you know, I think the circumstances demanded it. Did you fire Joe? Oh, without hesitation, yes. Ah, good riddance. So, where were we? Mr. Woods was just about to tell me about his new invention.

Oh, please, continue where you left off. Well, what if you could move from any point on the planet to any other point in an instance? That would certainly be convenient, especially in our line of work. Hmm. But it is sadly impossible. Indeed. But is it?

What if the body could travel via radio waves? Yes, radio waves. Well, I mean, that will not happen until the day pigs can fly. Wait. That's today. Traveling via

radio waves. It would be magic. No, it would be teletransportation. Name me Lightning and call me a prize horse. Have you invented a machine that can teletransport people? I thought I had. In reality, I pulled a real boner.

And here I was thinking omnibusing was novel. How does it work? To understand that, you have to fathom that there is no such thing as solid matter. If you look closely enough, we are all just energy. Everything is energy. And all we do, whether we push a train forward using electrical contactor rails or filling a glass with seltzer, is rearrange energy. Interesting. Wait, wait, wait. You said you thought you had invented a teletransporter. Did you or did you not? A few weeks ago, just before I contacted you, the day had come to test my invention. I set up the sender of the teletransporter in my workshop and the receiver in my study.

I turn it on and walk through the machine in the workshop, expecting, of course, to exit in the study. This was the first time you tried it? Yes, sir. You were sure it was going to work? Yes, sir. But how? I have invented hundreds of machines. I know if something will work or not.

If the math is right, if the mechanics are put together just so, the rest is duck soup. So what happened? Walking through the machine, I was very surprised to find myself still in the workshop. So I go into the study to see if anything has happened to the receiver and I see me. A copy. Yes. You had forgotten to account for the original. I was so focused on how the teletransporter sends your energy through space. How the vibrations need to be just right to make the energy manifest on the other end. I didn't realize. It only reads your energy. It does not move it. It's so obvious, too. When you speak through a phone, you can still be heard by the people who are in the same room as you. But I was blinded by hubris. I thought I was inventing the most important machine of all time. And then you realized

that was exactly what you were doing. Imagine meeting yourself. What a treat. I've always wanted to meet myself. No. Well, if you're a decent chap, wouldn't it be great to have more of you around? Imagine all that you could get done. It is a bad idea. Oh, come on. If there were two of you, Langston, you wouldn't need an apprentice. You have to understand, what came out of that machine wasn't me.

It was a copy. Potato, potato. When you print your newspaper, is every copy the same? Of course. I mean, really, truly identical. It's the same front page and the same news in every copy. same? Of course. Now, I mean really, truly identical. It's the same front page and the same news in every copy, so yes. Yet, every copy is different.

If you just look close enough, you'll realize they can't be identical. Smudges of ink, the paper cut slightly askew, variations. Some subtle, some large, but never identical. Yes, fine, sure, but... Copying a newspaper is relatively simple. There are few things overall that can vary. But size that up to a human. The variables are near infinite. Are you saying the man who exited the machine was what? Missing an ear? Had eleven toes? He was evil, Mr. Interviewer. Just as smart as me, but evil. How did you know?

What did you do? Well, my copy realized just as quickly as me what had happened, so he came at me with a letter opener. I was by the door to the workshop, so I ran out and got a hold of a huge wrench. I knocked him on the noodle. But you did not kill him. Oh, I should have.

But I panicked and ran out of the house. When I had gathered myself and went back, he was gone. And that's when I called you. I need to die before my copy does, well, anything at all. Before he starts creating havoc and chaos, people need to think I'm dead. I don't want my legacy tainted by that abomination. But he looks like you. So if we fake your death and people later come across your copy,

they'll assume he is you and that you faked your death, and then your plan fails. In fact, I am confident he is walking around right now claiming to be you. Yes, your copy will also consider himself the original. How could he? He knows he was copied. But your plan was to go through the teletransporter. He is the one who continued on your projected path. He will consider you leftover material from the experiment.

I don't know what he will consider me as. Despite being a copy of me, I find it very hard to imagine what he might be thinking. You are in lethal danger, Mr. Woods. Just like you do not want him to claim he is you, your copy will not want you to claim that you are him. You are the typeface, Mr. Woods. And he thinks of himself as the newspaper. The product, so to speak.

If we faked your death, it would be to save your life. If you faked my death, why wouldn't you? Because killing your copy is a much smarter move. Why? Why would you give up the life you have ahead of you, Mr. Woods? Imagine how rich this invention will make you. You will be the wealthiest man on Earth. Everyone will want access to this technology.

Instant travel to other parts of the planet. I mean, imagine what that will do for businesses. Everyone will want access to this technology. Instant travel to other parts of the planet. I mean, imagine what that will do for businesses. Or for people wanting to reunite with loved ones. Then there are the copying properties. I mean, I could train one journalist, multiply him, and I'd have an instant newspaper. Or you could train one soldier and have an instant army. Exactly! I mean, you would be insanely rich.

Did you not hear the part where I said the copies may come out evil? Oh, minor kink. The first prototype is never perfect. I mean, tinker with it some more, and I'm sure you'll have solved that problem. And if that's not possible? You know port authorities? There could be teleport authorities, screening everyone arriving via teletransporter. Hand out a questionnaire, anyone who ticks off, yes, I intend to cause harm to other citizens, gets bumped off. What you are

suggesting is inhumane. Well, we live in a new world now, Mr. Woods. The moment you turned on your teletransporter for the first time, the rules changed. The word humane may have to be re-examined. Do you really think that? Yes, I do. Well, I don't want it. We can't have it. It's a doomsday machine. Yes, you said that, but I don't get it.

It has moral implications, sure, but doomsday? Come on, that seems a bit dramatic, don't you think? I think if humans start copying themselves over and over and over, do you know what would happen? Well, with many me's around, a lot more would get done. Do you know what would happen if the human race reaches, say, seven billion people? Eight? Ten billion people? A great big party? No, I have no idea. There's no space. We would see massive starvation. People would be living so close to each other, sanitary conditions would be impossible to uphold.

Waste management? You can forget about it. We would see unprecedented spreading of disease. Gentlemen, it would mean the end of us. Huh. Do you know what they call a cell that indiscriminately copies itself? No. It is called cancer. That's right, Mr. Langston.

I've invented a machine that makes humans into cancer. That was never my intention. I just wanted to give people the chance to travel quickly. So, break the machine then. Burn the blueprints. You don't need our help to do that. So why are you here? Because I'm afraid.

Of your copy? No. Of me. Why are you afraid of yourself? Because I can create a machine that can copy people. I have the greatest mind on the planet, and I have the means necessary to use it. And thus, I can endanger the entire human species. Granville Taylor Woods needs to die. And I need to be a new person. Someone who wouldn't, well, who couldn't create anything. Pardon me, Mr. Woods, but this makes no sense.

No matter what new name and profession we give you, you would still be a genius. Not if you bring me back as a madman. As a madman? If I start raving about creating machines that can send people through empty air, people will laugh at me. I'm not saying bring me back inside a loony bin, but maybe make me a village idiot, a man of little means, just enough to get by. I could run a bicycle repair shop to keep my hands busy. The last time you were a man of little means,

you pulled yourself up by your bootstraps and became an inventor. A businessman. And a man of significant means. Do you not think you would do that again, Mr. Woods? Well, then what? The problem is the bike repair shop. You'll be bored, Mr. Woods. Well, then what? The problem is the bike repair shop. You'll be bored, Mr. Woods. Two months in, you would have invented an electrical bike

and you'd be right back in the game. Next thing we know, you're inventing ships that can travel to space. And then there's a war on Mars. No, no, no, no. We need to place you in a profession that will keep your mind busy and where you have fun. So you'll never be tempted to use your genius for anything too grand. Like where?

You've worked with fairground rides, you said? Yes, sir. I powered a roller coaster using electricity. Well, how about we bring you back as a technician with a traveling funfair? You could repair and even improve on the steam-powered rides. Make the best electric fairground rides the world has ever seen. It would keep your mind busy, not just your hands. I would be really jazzed about that. It's a deal.

Good. So, did you receive my babies? No, I'm afraid your children have not arrived yet. Were they sent ahead? Maybe they're sightseeing. Did they arrive with their nanny? Nanny? Sightseeing?

What? No, no, no, no, no. The teletransporter. The sender and the receiver. My babies. Oh, your machines. That makes a lot more sense. Well, if this machinery is so dangerous, why did you not destroy it right away?

Why send it here? Well, to prove that I was speaking the truth, in case you didn't believe me. You were going to demonstrate it? If I had to. Well, we have not seen it. So, this is so, so bad. So, so, so, so bad. So, so, so, so bad. So incredibly...

Oh, my God. Listen, listen, relax. Maybe it has arrived and it's sitting down in the loading bay. I will go down and have a look for it, shall I? I'm sure it's perfectly fine. Oh, thank you. Back in the jiffy. It will be fine.

You don't know that I'm back Already? Already? That took forever Mr. Woods, I am so sorry for leaving in a rush in the middle of your interview The incident down in the butcher shop did demand my attention But then, on the way down, Salinger and I met a person I just had to interview Another client? But you were only gone for a second. Can you believe it? It was the engineer building the Titanic.

He wanted us to run a feature on the project. Now, he came for the newspaper, but I had a little chat with him in private. Salinger is with him now, ironing out the details. You know, sinking ships might be a nice new sideline for us. I'm sure that's great for you, but will you please go down and find my machine? I won't be able to relax until I know it is here. Hmm? What machine? My be...

We were just talking about... You know, the weirdest thing just happened. When I finally got down to the butcher shop, the whole mess had been sorted out. But that apprentice of yours, Langston, this Joe fellow, hasn't got his head screwed on right. He said I had already been down there and cussed at him. Why is he still there? You fired him, did you not? Did I? He said that you had already been down there and...

Oh, no, no, no. That's the machine propped up against the door. Oh, no. We're all damned to hell. No. Turn off. Turn off. Turn off.

Why won't you turn off? Quick. We've got to move it away from the door. What is going on? My stomach just sank. No one walk through that door. You hear me? What is the matter?

That door frame arrived this morning. I have no idea. That is the doomsday machine. What? Is that not right, Mr. Woods? Yes. The door frame is a doomsday machine. What? Is that not right, Mr. Woods? Yes. The door frame is a doomsday machine? Well, you shouldn't worry. It doesn't work.

I turned it on this morning and nothing happened. It's been on since this morning? No! Where's the receiver? I believe the other door frame is down in the loading bay still, but... Who has left this room? Who? Who? Who? You just did, right?

And you did earlier as well? That makes two. With that Salinger fella. No, no, no, that's three then. Oh, this is bad. How does this thing work, anyway? We just told you. No, wait, wait, wait.

We didn't. We told the original. You are the copy. I'm a copy? Did you exit this room and suddenly find yourself in the loading bay? No. Are you sure? Well, fairly.

Oh, my. Is that me? Oh, heavens Yes, I think you are I mean, I think I am me You are Is that what I look like? I'm sure I look different in the mirror

In the mirror? It's the other way round How weird, I was about to say exactly the same thing I could have sworn this morning that the twizzle in my moustache was on the other side, but... Well, I was... Oh, my. That's too much. This is weird. Well, I'll tell you what's weird.

But it's weird. I just suffered short memory loss. I went through this door, then the next thing I know, I'm down in the loading bay. That means you were just copied. Wait, what? You are a copy of this man. So this so-called doomsday machine, it isn't a weapon. It doesn't cause explosions. No, it copies people. When you walk through this sender, a copy of you

exits the receiver, which apparently is down in the loading bay. Anyone who has entered or exited this room has been copied. Only the ones who have exited. It only works one way. Well, that's a relief. No, it's not. So you're saying when I exited earlier, before I met the Titanic engineer, I was copied and this handsome gentleman appeared? Hello. Yes. No, no, no. Wait, you've exited twice. I have, yes. Since arriving this morning. No, no, not you. Well, you. But not you. Mr. Woods, sorry it took so long. I had to fire Joe again. He claimed I never fired him in the first place. The impertinent little goop. And I didn't find your machine, I'm afraid.

The only thing that's down in the loading bay is that door frame which was delivered this morning. Oh, I see you've moved the frame that is in here. Your machine doesn't happen to look like a door frame, does it? Why have you put those mirrors in here? Hello. Oh my god, it's me. I must say, that is a hanging new bow tie.

Oh, stop it. I agreed. That bow tie is hip. Shut up, everyone. We have to know who is the original. Who of you is the original? What does it matter? We're all fabulous. No, no, we can't keep all of you. The copies have to go. Go? As in? I think we are all one of a kind, aren't we?

I would say so, yes. I like my seltzer with a slice of lemon. I like mine with a slice of lime. Don't you like yours plain, Mr. Interviewer? Who, me? Oh, goodness. Well, uh, no. Please, if you...

Because we're all individuals. No killing necessary. One of you... Actually, I am quite thirsty. Do we have any seltzer? Please, listen here. I have a headache. A splitting one.

Just behind the left ear. Mine is behind both ears. Can we have some seltzer, please? Here you go. Oh. Here you go. Who of you exited this room and found themselves suddenly in the loading bay? Not me.

I did. No, he did not. I can't let you all live. Now, listen, here are the three of us. What? This is your work. Me? All three of you. Wait, there's three of us This is your work Me? All three of you Wait, there's three of you too

My life was perfectly normal You said you two My life, it's our life Our life Because all three of us experienced it My life, I only had one life Up until you arrived Salinger, Salinger.

That's funny. Yes, this is great, isn't it? You always complain that you have too much to do, and here you are, three Salingers to share the workload. Isn't that just splendid? We thought so. After the initial shock and confusion, we spread out to different departments. Let's make the best of the situation, we said.

I took charge of investigative journalists. I went straight for the recipes section and letters from the public. I decided to oversee printing and distribution. But the more we got done, the more problems we discovered. The journalists are unhappy with their pay. Rosa Lewis is suing us for printing her secret recipes. The printing press says we haven't paid them for three months. I used to just worry about the front page.

Now I have all of these new things to worry about. Why are you ruining my life? Our life? Shut up. You're giving me a headache. Oh, the situation's a mess. Do you see now? Um, wait. What is that? It sounds like Joe.

One, two, three, four. What is going on? Five, six, seven, eight. You have to beat Joe's too. This is amazing. One, two, three, four. We discussed this chart before. Five, six, seven, eight.

Three of green in a monster. This is too much. Don't fire Joes. Don't fire Joes. Don't fire Joes. Joes are valuable. Joes are valuable. Don't fire Joes.

Don't fire Joes. Joes are valuable. Joes are valuable. This is out of control. Joes, why are you carrying placards and shouting slogans? We formed a union. A union of Joes. It's called a Joes union.

The union of Joes is here to stay. The union of Joes is here to stay. We will not be scared away. Joes are valuable. Joes are valuable. Joes are valuable. We don't like it very much. Oh, this is insufferable. Why? Because you fired us for no reason. Twice. We're looking at bouches, Joe, Joe, Joe Joes. We are Joes. We demand all our fingers

and toes. We are Joes. We are Joes. We demand all our fingers and toes. We are Joes. We are Joes. We demand all our fingers and toes. We are Joes. We are Joes. We demand all our fingers and toes. We are Joes. We are Joes. We demand all our fingers and toes.

We are Joes. We are Joes. We demand all our fingers and toes. The task Joe's. We did mark our fingers and toes. I'm just to figure out what kind of death to give Mr Woods. I'm thinking something grand and spectacular, worthy of a great mind. You're giving him a death? No, never mind, Joe. We'll catch you up later. Mr Woods, I think you should die falling off a speeding train, having climbed onto it to fix a faulty brick.

Oh, well, I think you should die from a lightning strike. And you and the bike are accidentally blown into the sea by a wind. When did you get a lightning strike? Using a 700 of 40-grit. Oh, well, I think you should die from a lightning strike. When did you get a lightning? Using a 700-feet-tall electric catcher? No, no, no, no, no. I don't want a spectacular death. But your legacy. I need to pass into oblivion. Why?

Because there must be no keen eyes. No one must look closely at my demise. I don't want no one coming after me. And secondly, I made something I shouldn't have. It seems wrong to celebrate that. You do not feel like you deserve a grand death. Yeah. But what about the automatic brake and the egg incubator? If people want to remember me for the things that I made for good,

great. But we can let those inventions speak for themselves. So then what? Oh, no. What now? I'm bleeding from my left ear. Me too. Well, you all shouldn't have shouted so much. I don't like blood.

You work in a butcher shop. Me neither. I don't like seeing my own blood. Oh, my goodness. Two Joes down, one to go. I don't like seeing my own blood. Oh my goodness. Two Joes down, one to go. One down, two to go. Treat Joes better.

Treat Joes better. Oh, I needed to get that out of my stomach. Wait, what's this? I'm also bleeding from my dish. Oh, bye-bye. And we have two of me down too. I think we just got the answer to how to kill you. How? Your machine has another flaw.

It does? It appears that it produces intracerebral hemorrhages in the copies. Sudden bleeding into the tissues of the brain. Symptoms. Severe headaches followed by vomiting. Collapsing and bleeding from the ears. Finally, death. That does not bode well for two out of, um, you three.

What, us? I feel fine. Never better. Your two copies might not die as soon. Not as soon as the others. No? Oh. Oh, yes, I see.

Right. Aha. Does that mean... You are a handful. I only have patience for one of you. Hmm. Of course. And which one of us do you have patience for?

I think the correct phrase would be patience with. I will figure that out. Right. On a more positive note, Mr. Woods, I feel quite certain that your copy is already dead. Oh, that's a relief. So what now? Shall we get an axe and smash this thing? Not yet. We will fake your death, Mr. Woods, and for that we need your machine. How? You should die of an intracerebral hemorrhage.

It is an inconspicuous medical condition, not traceable to your machine. And we do not need to worry about finding a replacement corpse. Your machine will make it. We will make another me just so he can die? Quietly, at home, attracting no keen eyes. Well done, Lex. Excellent plan indeed. Very good. Okay, okay, fine. Well done, Lex. Excellent plan indeed. Very good. Okay, okay, fine. We use the machine one more time, but that's it. After I'm gone, after you've set me up with this traveling fairground,

and we have made my... Replacement corpse? Yes. And we have buried me. I want an unmarked grave, by the way. Then you must buried me. I want an unmarked grave, by the way. Then you must promise me the machine will be destroyed. You have my word. I will gladly help.

What about you? Me? Well, I... You already have Langston's word. I need your word, too. Oh, very well, you have my word, too. We will destroy the moneymaker. I mean, doomsday machine. All of you...

You already have my word. No, no, no, I don't. I have his word, and his word... I don't... I don't know which one of you will survive. I need all your words. Okay, you have my word, too. Thank you.

And mine. You already gave yours No, no, that wasn't me It was you No, that was him No, it wasn't It was... Was it?

Oh, oh, oh, Langston What is it, Joe? I forgot to mention With being fired and forming a union And there being three of me and all But I think you'd be really proud of me How is that? The beef

What about it? Well, it sold really well Good job, Joe and there being three of me and all, but I think you'd be really proud of me. How is that? The beef! What about it? Well, it sold really well. Good job, Joe. Oh, and I know you said not to open the crates that were nailed shut, but the other beef ran out, so... The crate meat is selling really well. Are you okay, Salinger? Yes. Yes.

What do we do with these bodies? Well, we do have that industrial meat grinder, don't we? Today is the day pigs can fly. Imagine. Anyone for seltzer? Ah, yes, please. Here you go. Now, seeing as there's three of us, I was thinking that...

Tastes like blood. What is that? Are you... Good Lord, am I bleeding? Yes, yes, you are. Oh, shit. Oh, dear. Oh, what is that? Are you... Oh, yes. Does it really... Good Lord, am I bleeding? Yes, yes, you are. Oh, shit. Oh, dear. Oh, well.

Toodle-oo. Oh. Oh. What is... Oh, it's coming out of my ear. What is it? It's with a... Oh, not you.

Oh, well, there goes my acapella group. Stay tuned for the epilogue, but first, the credits. This episode was dedicated to Grace Collum and featured Alan Bergen as the interviewers, Tim Meredith as the Salingers, Ben Meredith as Joes, Hemi Yeroham as Kozlowski, David S. Deer as Granville T. Woods, Jordan Cobb as Jackie Williams, and Erin King as Mia Fox. The episode was written by Einstein Ulystein Ulzberg-Braga with story and audio editing by Philip Thorne and sound design by Alexander Danner. Music by Frederik Barden.

The episode was directed by Øystein Braga and Philip Thorne, production assistants by Marti Patzival and graphic design by Anders Pedersen. Thank you so much to all our patrons who keep the lights on and the cocoa flowing. And a shout out to our super patrons. That's Celeste Joes, Heat312, Rodney Dulleghi, Jem Fiddick, Alban Assant, Amelian Allison, Stephanie Weidenhiller, Raphael, Eduardo Vifas, Verastaki, Ashlyn Brand, Alison Throh, Patricia Bornwagner, Dr Insanity, Bryce Godmer, Grace Collum, Cliff Heisinger, Michael West, Tom Putnam, Diana Birkenbritter, Tim McMacken, Thank you. You make a substantial difference to our lives.

For more info on the show and how to become a patron, visit our website at ameliapodcast.com. And now, the epilogue. Let's see. Wikipedia. Granville T. Woods. Granville Taylor Woods, April 23rd, 1856 to January 30th, 1910, was an American inventor who held more than 50 patents in the U.S.

Yeah, skip ahead to the part about his death. Let's see. Was referred to by some as the Black Edison. Hmm. Here. Woods died of a cerebral hemorrhage at Harlem Hospital in New York City on January 30th, 1910. Until 1975, his resting place was an unmarked grave. Huh.

So what happened to the copying machine? Hmm? The copying machine. What happened to it? Oh, we destroyed it. It was much too dangerous to keep. If you'd kept it and sold it, you'd have made a mint. From a financial point of view, we should have done that. The Daily Phoenix did not last for long. Once the war broke out... Yeah, what happened to the Brotherhood during World War I?

The Daily Phoenix was primarily staffed by young men. In 1916, the UK government applied conscription, and the newspaper fell apart. What about the death-faking business? Most of our disappearances were cancelled.

In wartime, people tend to be more concerned with surviving the life they have than looking for a new one. We were not the best of friends, either. All things considered, I think the 1910s and the 1920s might have been the worst we have ever been. You didn't have any clients? A few. We have ever been.

You didn't have any clients? A few. We faked William Ellsworth's death, fire bullet catch in 1918, and we helped Agatha Christie disappear for a while in 1926. But mostly, we were living off savings. We did not get the company back on its feet until Amelia Earhart took over the reins. Yeah, we know that story. Keep going back. Of course.

Let us move to the late 1800s. The Fable and Folly Network. Where fiction producers flourish.