Chapter 4: Like Clockwork
Harry Kramer loved explosives. He loved the danger of working with them andthe thrill of watching them go off. A properly made bomb was an amazing pieceof engineering, a compact device of wires, springs, and explosives all set upin a very precisely and ordered way. When the bomb went off, all that hardwork evaporated in a single transformative moment. It was like taking a pieceof fine crystal and hurling it against the side of a brick wall, and how couldsomeone not feel joy at that? How could someone not see that there wassomething magical that only existed in that single solitary moment when theproduct of labor and a thoughtful mind became nothing more than garbage?Though there wasn’t anything sexual about it, the best word that Harry hadfound for it was orgasmic.
A thick letter came in the mail for him. He ran a few simple tests to seewhether it might contain a bomb, sniffing at it and hefting it carefully.Letter bombs were tricky to do, because you couldn’t reliably set them on atimer unless you knew for certain when they’d be opened. The letter also hadto make it through the postal service without detonating or being discovered,which was a challenge in and of itself. The most common way to make a letterbomb was to fill an envelope with two chemicals that were explosive whenmixed, separating them with layers of paper. Another chemical trigger wasplaced along the top where the paper was going to be ripped. The chemicalswould mix when the letter was opened, and the bomb would explode, but that wasoften messy because people didn’t always open their own mail. It was easier tomake a larger package that would explode, because then you didn’t need toworry about the bomb being bent or squeezed, but there was a very cleardistinction between a “letter bomb” and a “mail bomb” owing to therestrictions on construction.
Harry had a recurring fantasy about being sent a letter bomb. In the fantasyhe would smell the metallic powders and carefully disarm the bomb in hisworkshop, pulling it apart to expose its secrets. Written inside the letterbomb would be words of congratulations for showing caution, and a coyinvitation to begin using his skills in earnest. In the fantasy he and theother bomber would engage in a conversation written across the city inexplosive force, needing nothing more than concussive blasts to speak to eachother. There was something raw and primal about destroying the ordered worldof the city. Eventually Harry would prove himself the superior of the two, andshe would reveal herself to him, and declare her undying love for him. It wasalways a woman, of course. They would exchange hot, hungry kisses on therooftop of his apartment as Harry’s bombs leveled the city.
The letter he’d received wasn’t a bomb. Instead, there was an offer ofemployment. Beneath that, the bulk of the envelope containing crisp twenty-dollar bills, enough to pay for his apartment for two full years. The letterwas concerning, because it meant that someone knew about him, but it wasexciting, because it meant that he was going to get to do something that heloved. It wasn’t some simple job that required only a simple demolition ordeath, it was finally a chance to be unchained and fully funded. No longerwould he have to cobble something together from bits and pieces. He was goingto make something beautiful.
“What makes a person do a thing like this?” asked Clark.
Lois rolled her eyes.
Clark was a heavy man, thick without really seeming muscular, though you couldtell from a glance that he’d never learned to buy clothes that fit. He hadterrible posture, his hair was messy, and he wore glasses so thick you couldhardly see his eyes through them. He seemed to get sick constantly, and he wasso out of shape that whenever they had to move quickly he could be seengasping for air afterwards. He had the desk right next to Lois’s, and so she’dhad time to examine each and every one of his faults - that was just a smallsampling of the physical problems with Clark. Much to her consternation, hewas somehow the second best reporter at The Daily Planet. They were oftenpaired together for the big stories, since it allowed Perry to run a companionstory to a front-pager. More often than not, Lois found that being aroundClark tried her patience. It was made worse by the fact that he’d quiteobviously developed an infatuation with her from nearly the day that hestarted working at the Planet. He’d asked her out during his second week, andshe’d politely but firmly told him no, but he was still hung up on her. One ofthe only good things about Clark was that he was as transparent as glass. Hiscrush was more sad than annoying, most days anyway.
Lois and Clark were standing outside the remains of an apartment building. Ithad exploded earlier in the day at around noon, sending bricks, wood, andpersonal belongings in every direction and shattering a number of windows allaround the block. Two people had died, and a lot more had been seriouslyinjured. The apartment was still standing, but three of the upper floors werenow just a gaping hole, and it was likely that there was enough structuraldamage that the building was a total loss. Everyone talked about how muchworse it could have been. It was front page material for sure.
“Some people are just evil,” said Lois.
“I don’t think a person is born a certain way,” said Clark. “People makechoices, for good or evil. Free will is part of God’s design. I just can’tunderstand why someone would make this choice.”
Lois tried to stop herself from rolling her eyes again. “Some design,” shesaid, as she spotted a severed arm in the rubble that no one seemed to havepicked up yet.
Lois and Clark had done their interviews, talking to the victims, police,firefighters, and neighbors. There was little question that the explosion hadbeen deliberate. The police were already chasing down some promising leads,though Lois knew that half the time they only said that to keep peoplereassured.
They’d been back at the Daily Planet Building working late when the secondbomb had gone off, exactly six hours after the first. This one was at a salesoffice downtown. Most of the staff had gone home, but the rescue workers hadpulled a few corpses from the wreckage. She overheard one of the onlookers saythat it was a tragedy that people had died because they’d stayed late to work.She made sure to put that in her article.
The third bomb exploded in Superman’s face. He’d found it in the freezer of agrocery store, and got people out of the way before he’d tried moving it,which was when it had blown up. Lots of people reported seeing a gaping holetorn right in the center of his costume. Superman had spoken directly with thechief of police, giving him as much information as possible. Lois had comeback into the office late at night in order to write about it, and found thatClark was already there in a wrinkled shirt, looking for all the world likehe’d never stopped working when she’d left at eight. Though he finished hisarticle before her, she came up with the better moniker - the ClockworkBomber. Perry groused about them being too competitive and wasting effortwriting the same story, then decided to run Lois’s article in the morningedition with the headline “Clockwork Bomber Strikes Midnight!”. The long hourswere worth it just for the forlorn look on Clark’s face.
Lois set her alarm for five in the morning. The first bomb had been at noon,the second at six, and the third Superman had detonated just before midnight.The pattern was obvious to anyone with half a brain. Ten minutes before sixo’clock in the morning she heard a distant rumble from across the city, andshe was ready to trek off towards it in her most sensible shoes. Clark wasnowhere to be seen, and despite being tired as hell, Lois felt a warm glow ofsatisfaction that she’d beat him to the punch.
The mayor and the chief of police held a press conference, where they promisedthat they would find the man or men responsible. No one made any demands, andno one claimed credit. Everyone braced themselves for another bomb at noon,but it didn’t come. Four bombs had claimed the lives of six people, and theredidn’t seem to be a point to it. The casualties had been much lower than theycould have been, given the time of day that the bombs had gone off and thelocations that they’d been placed, but it was anyone’s guess what that saidabout the bomber.
A few days passed, and eventually things began to settle down again.
Lois was surprised when she found a second letter on her desk, addressed toMiss Lane and requesting to meet her in the same place as before. She wasready this time, and grabbed a sheet of paper with a series of questions frominside her desk. She stopped by Perry’s desk to tell him where she’d be going,just in case something happened. Perry looked ecstatic, but Lois felt hernerves getting the best of her.
She prided herself on being utterly fearless. She’d stood on the spire of theEmperor Building as the first airship came in, strapped in with what amountedto a thick belt. She’d hunted big game with Hemingway over a memorable summerin Kenya. She’d braved storms while sailing the North Atlantic in a yacht, theclosest she’d ever come to actually dying. She found these adventuresexhilarating instead of terrifying. Yet there was something about Supermanthat tickled some animal part of her brain. She did her best to ignore it, andmade the trek up to the rooftop where the Man of Steel was waiting.
“Hello Lois,” he said as he turned around. His smile was gentle, but it didn’thelp her nerves. Luthor had said that Superman moved faster than muscles alonewould dictate, but that didn’t make the muscles look any less impressive. Itwas impossible for her to look at him and not think about the fact that hecould cross the distance between them faster than she could blink.
“Hello Superman,” she replied. “I’ve got some questions for you.”
“I know,” he said.
Lois immediately imagined him staring through the walls, looking over thequestions she’d prepared for him and composing answers. It felt utterlyinvasive - she would never allow an interview subject to look over thequestions like that, not at this stage in her career. She really should havegotten one of those lead-lined drawers. Of course, maybe he’d just meant thathe knew she had questions because everyone had questions. She found herselfunwilling to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Go on,” said Superman. “But I can’t answer everything.”
“Where is your ship?” she asked.
“It burnt up over the Atlantic on my way in,” Superman replied.
“Could you find the wreckage?” she asked.
“There wouldn’t be anything left,” said Superman. “Even if there were, Iwouldn’t hand it over. If humanity were able to work backwards and figure outhow it was made, I fear the results would be disastrous. It would be likegiving a gun to a baby.”
Lois frowned. “And you’re the final arbiter of what’s good for humanity, whatwe can and can’t handle?”
“I am the arbiter of myself,” said Superman. “I can only do what I think isbest, and hope that humanity gives the same consideration to their ownactions.”
“Okay,” said Lois. “But are you really doing the most good? I mean, I’ve seenproposals for what other people would be doing with your powers, diggingcanals or generating power, searching out veins of ore, the amount of money-”
“I don’t need money,” said Superman. He interrupted her so delicately that shemomentarily lost her train of thought.
“You don’t,” she replied slowly. “But the rest of us do. These are lucrativejobs that could bring in millions, and with that you could fund orphanages,women’s shelters, homeless shelters, or whatever charitable organizations youwanted. We could set up a trust. It wouldn’t matter that you were using yourpowers for a profit, because that profit would be directly translated intogood works that would overwhelm positive effects of the crime fighting andgeneral heroism you do now.” Lex Luthor’s words were coming out of her mouth.“And if you embraced the celebrity that you already have you could chargeenormous amounts of money for the use of your image. People are already makinglunchboxes and trading cards with your emblem, and I’ve heard that they’remaking two different movies about you. These things are going to happenwhether you’re involved with them or not, and you could at least make somemoney that you could use for good causes.”
“Saving people from violent crime is an unambiguous good,” said Superman.“Bringing money into it isn’t, and I don’t know that I should be supplyinghumanity with a brawn that it doesn’t and shouldn’t have yet. I’ve tried mybest to confine myself to acting only when there is a clear good to be done.I’m trying not to bend the course of human history, or force my morality onanyone else. I do that by operating within the laws of the country andavoiding controversy as much as possible. I have as few points of interferencewith a citizen’s daily life as possible.”
“You think that an avoidance of controversy is part of the greater good?”asked Lois. “Do you think that the laws of this country are anywhere close tojust?” She pointed across the city to the docks, and the channel where shipswere streaming in and out of the harbor. “A hundred years ago there wereslaves being sold here. If you’d shown up then would you have stoppedslavemasters from beating their slaves? Do the laws of men mean that much toyou that you’d actually let such an injustice stand?”
“You’re losing your cool,” said Superman.
Lois looked down at her notebook. She hadn’t asked him a question from it forquite some time. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s just thatsometimes I think about what I would do if I had your powers, and incomparison you seem so …”
“Reluctant?” asked Superman.
“Yes,” Lois replied.
“During Prohibition, as part of an effort to stop people from drinkingindustrial alcohol, it was denatured and methyl alcohol was added, making ittoxic. They thought that people would change their behavior. The end resultwas that the United States government killed ten thousand of its owncitizens.”
“I wrote an article about that,” said Lois. “It never made it to print.”
“I know,” said Superman. He looked out towards the city in quietcontemplation. “I believe that the people who poured their poisons into thevats truly believed that they were doing good. They just couldn’t see what theend result would be. Even with the work I’ve been doing, there have beenunwanted side effects.” He pursed his lips. “I get the distinct impressionthat people are less cautious with their lives now that they have me around.People shout for me to save them instead of taking action. There was a fire inan apartment building three days ago, and half the occupants ran up to theroof and screamed for me to come pick them up. If I’d been dealing with someother more serious disaster at the time, those people would have died. Theseare the things that happen on even a small scale when humanity is saved fromtheir own mistakes and steered away from forging their own path. I’m sure youcould think of half a dozen other examples of the unintended consequences.”
She could. The budgets for the police and fire department in Metropolis wereup for review, and both looked like they were going to be cut by a largepercent, because the city saw no point in paying the same amount for serviceswhen Superman had taken up much of their duties. Those elements of theunderworld with sufficient mobility were moving to Gotham City, causing acrime wave there the likes of which hadn’t been seen in a decade. The onesthat stayed in Metropolis were more organized than before, with a higherpropensity towards subterfuge, trickery, and crimes which didn’t make a sound.Superman didn’t speak anything but English, and so there had been an explosionin language learning. That was above and beyond the general insanity that camefrom having a man that flew through the air, and the world’s firstextraterrestrial.
There were many things that Lois wanted to say, but she was worried she’d gettoo wrapped up in argument again. A good reporter pressed their subject, butdidn’t get heated. If she were speaking to him outside of her role as aprofessional, she might have called a policy of non-intervention thedefinition of moral laziness. She might have told him that he had the mostinconsistent moral system she’d ever had the displeasure of encountering. Thetruth was, she didn’t like Superman. They’d both read the various proposalsand the pleas for aid. There were so many things that he could do, and hesimply refused to do them. It might have been one thing if he’d engaged inreasoned debate, but Superman had acted unilaterally, thinking that he knewwhat was best for humanity. Her thoughts returned again to when he’d scoopedher up like a child. Superman was a man - an alien - of presumptions.
But Lois Lane was a good reporter, and so resisted the urge to berate him.
“How long were you on the planet before you began intervening?” asked Lois.
“Two weeks,” said Superman. “I learned English on the way over from your radiosignals and spent a good deal of time watching from above and getting a morein-depth understanding of your culture and the ways of your people, as well asthe relevant laws.”
“And did you anticipate what followed?” asked Lois.
“For the most part,” said Superman. “Celebrity, shock, awe, analysis - thatwas predictable. What I hadn’t counted on was the cruelty or organization ofthe attempts to kill me.”
Lois furrowed her brow. “You’re talking about the people trying to shoot you?”
“No,” replied Superman. “That I expected. The criminal element was bound totry. I let them sometimes, just to prove how useless it is to stand againstme, but most of them attack me like it’s going to do some good. I stopped amugging three weeks ago, and the man kept stabbing my eyes. It didn’t doanything more than dull his knife, and eventually he ran out of steam.Sometimes they shoot me and look at their guns like they’re shocked that itdidn’t work. Maybe some people don’t really believe the stories until they seeit for themselves. No, all that I expected. I’m talking about the bombs.That’s why I came to speak with you today.”
“The Clockwork Bomber,” said Lois.
“Yes,” said Superman. “All the bombs were meant for me. They were encased inlead and had mechanisms inside to prevent me from doing anything with them. Ithink someone was making an effort to kill me.”
“It seems obvious that wouldn’t work,” said Lois. “Even on the face of it.”
“The bombs were special,” said Superman. “They used focused blasts and avariety of different materials. I think one was an attempt to blind me.They’re probing for a weakness.”
“But it didn’t work,” said Lois.
“No,” said Superman. “I’ve been looking over the city and trying to connectthe dots. Whoever set the bombs up is going to try again. I need you to warnthe people of Metropolis. If I’m right, next time it’s going to be worse.”
Ninety-nine percent of the time, ripping a handful of wires out of a bomb willsafely defuse it, either by removing the fuse from the detonator or thedetonator from the explosive material. Most people who made bombs wereunsophisticated, and most bombs were designed not to be found until after theyhad detonated. There wasn’t much point in making them particularly hard todefuse or move, and there weren’t many people with the technical skill to doit.
The bombs that Harry designed were complex, above and beyond the complexitydesigned into them by his benefactor. They had to be, because their target wasSuperman.
Many things could be made fail-safe. The railways used air brakes, in which apiston was held up by compressed air. To apply the brake, some air was let outof the system, causing the piston to lower and the brake to be applied. If anyof the components of the system failed, the brake would be engaged by the lossof pressure, stopping the railcar and preventing it from going out of control.Fail-safe design was becoming more and more important as a method of stoppingmachines from self-destruction.
The bombs Harry made were fail-deadly. The detonator was connected to a timer,but the timer didn’t cause the bomb to explode - it prevented the explosionfrom happening. Removal of the timer would collapse a circuit and cause thebomb to explode. Removal of the detonator would cause a circuit to collapseand trigger a secondary hidden detonator. Several small glass tubes werefilled with beads of mercury which were part of the circuit, and if the bombwas tilted too far in any direction a circuit would complete and cause thebomb to explode. No one would ever be able to see this hard work, not evenSuperman, because the whole thing was encased in lead shielding. Wires wereaffixed to the interior of the casing, and if the lead shielding was removedthe bomb would detonate.
Most bomb makers didn’t make their bombs this complex. It was more work, andwith the work came a higher risk of accidental detonation. With the amount ofexplosives that Harry was using, it wasn’t really a concern for him. What hefeared was a small explosion that left him limbless and bleeding out, butgiven the number of pounds of cyclonite he was working with, an accident wouldleave him vaporized. It didn’t seem like such a bad way to go. In truth, Harryliked the heightened sense of reality that came from being one mistake awayfrom utter destruction. The benefactor had designed the bombs to be dangerousthings, and Harry had modified them to be nearly reckless.
“Be careful with that,” said Harry as the workmen took the first bomb out ofthe workshop that had been rented for him. “It’s fragile.”
They hadn’t smiled at his joke, but then they didn’t know what was in thecrate they were carrying out. The circuit with the mercury switches was on aseparate timer to ensure that the bomb wouldn’t blow up in transit, but therewas still more risk than most people would want to take. Harry had no ideawhere the workmen had come from. Like many things, the benefactor took care ofit.
He also had no idea where the bomb was headed, but he couldn’t help smiling ashis bomb ventured off into the world. He’d headed back into his shop to makesome variations on the theme.
Lex had tried doing things cleanly. The Conference on Extraterrestrial Sciencehad put out a plea to Superman, asking him to attend a meeting of minds sothat they might make a cultural bridge between human and Kryptonian science.Superman could have come forward and simply spoken to them about what the truelimits of his powers were, but he hadn’t even responded to them. Theinvitation carried nearly every important name among the scientific elite, andthe lack of response couldn’t be seen as anything but an insult. Lex had putforward a mountain of plans and proposals that would allow him to get close toSuperman, and almost all of them would allow for an advancement in what mostpeople would consider to be the common good. Superman hadn’t responded to anyof it.
The bombing campaign served multiple goals, as any good plan did.
Superman was an extinction level event waiting to happen, and where those wereconcerned there were no second chances. If Superman ever decided to killeveryone, there would be no stopping him, and so it stood to reason thathumanity should take every possible precaution to prevent that from happening.The most direct path would be through killing Superman. Lex had writtenmultiple letters to the editor under various pseudonyms, but none had everbeen published, and his point of view seemed entirely unpopular. It was alwaysone that he voiced from a position of anonymity, because in public he wasplaying the role of Superman’s champion.
People were bad at estimating the risk that an extinction posed, because noone had ever lived through one. People were also quite bad at imagining acatastrophe so large. A woman might weep when you mentioned the possibility ofher child dying from consumption, but the total obliteration of Earth-originating life would produce only a shrug. It was too vast for people tothink about rationally. Worse, they assumed that “Superman is the greatestthreat to humanity” was a shorthand for some decision on Superman’s part, whenin truth that was only a part of it.
Many people accepted Superman’s story at face value; the last son of a dyingplanet, the only one of his kind to exhibit such incredible powers, withlittle aid from technology save for the ship that had provided him with a tripthrough the stars. There were many parts of the story that Lex was skepticalof, but he found it most terrifying to think that the story was true, namelybecause of what it suggested about Kryptonian science.
Huntington’s disease was a hereditary degenerative disease with cognitive andpsychiatric symptoms, one of which was psychosis. Huntington’s was seen inperhaps one in eight thousand people, and psychosis was seen in perhaps one inten of those. If a randomly selected human of Superman’s apparent age were toobtain Superman’s powers, there would be a one in eighty thousand chance thatthey would both have Huntington’s disease and symptoms of psychosis, theresult of which would probably be casualties that would dwarf the Great War bya large margin. If Superman was telling the truth about the culture that hecame from, his society wasn’t much further advanced than humanity, and solikely hadn’t grown past degenerative diseases and hereditary defects. Even ifSuperman were perfectly good in some abstract sense, the onset of a mentaldisease might be just around the corner.
Worse, if Superman’s powers weren’t the result of engineering and carefullycontrolled science (a hard pill to swallow) then no one had made sure thatthey were safe, and perhaps some day something internal to him would simplyunravel, unleashing enough energy to destroy an entire hemisphere. If Supermanwas to be believed, his powers had come from seemingly nowhere, and yeteveryone simply trusted them as though it were the most natural thing in theworld.
Estimates were difficult to make, given Superman’s silence. His secondinterview with Lois Lane had provided little illumination. Nevertheless,numbers could be pulled from thin air in order to get a sense of things. Therewas the possibility that something would happen that was completely outside ofSuperman’s control which would result in Superman destroying the Earth. Therewas the possibility that Superman could simply have a bad day and decide tokill a large number of people, which many people seemed to think was absurd.There were also failure modes which didn’t involve the destruction of humanitybut would nevertheless result in an effective end to humanity as Lex Luthorknew it, the most probable of which seemed to be that Superman would turn intoa tyrant. When these probabilities were multiplied together, the final veryrough estimate was that Superman had a one in ten chance of bringing about aglobal scale human catastrophe of some kind in the next thirty years. Even ifthe odds had been one in a hundred, Lex would have taken a similarly extremecourse of action.
The collateral damage caused by the bombs was negligible in comparison to thethreat of Superman.
But of course the bombs were unlikely to kill Superman. The first four hadbeen for calibration, built with a small device which gave a series of loudchirps prior to detonation to allow Superman time to get to it before itexploded. The next series of bombs would introduce more exotic methods of harmwhich hadn’t yet been conclusively ruled out, but the prospects looked grim.
The secondary goal was to probe for a weakness. Lex had it on good authoritythat Superman had taken the equivalent of a direct hit from navy artillery tohis chest when the third bomb exploded. He’d simply looked surprised that he’dset it off. The magnesium and phosphorus compounds had done nothing to blindhim, and he’d been talking with the police soon afterwards with no illeffects. Lex had suspected as much, but perhaps something would be found thatcould harm him but not kill him, or otherwise give Lex an advantage. Lead hadbeen a boon, and allowed Lex a level of freedom that was gratifying until heremembered how free he’d been before Superman’s arrival.
The third objective was testing Superman’s limits. Lex kept a detailed log ofSuperman’s movements in his study, as well as a large map of Metropolis whichwas covered in small color-coded labels that corresponded to Supermansightings or activities. Superman’s patterns had been mapped against thegeneral patterns of crime and emergency in Metropolis, and Lex had not beenall that surprised to find that the patterns didn’t quite match one another,even taking into account Superman’s preferences for certain crimes andemergencies over others. There were two lulls, one during the daytime thatseemed to start around eight in the morning and end around five in theafternoon, and one in the dead of night from three in the morning to five inthe morning. Lex had no idea what to make of it, but kept the informationsafely locked away behind lead walls. Perhaps Superman needed to sleep, orneeded to recharge in some other way, but sustained and consistent bombingswould allow for information to be gathered.
The fourth objective was to identify the place that Superman retired to whenhe wasn’t flying around the city, since Superman demonstrably didn’t spend allof his time on heroics. Lex strongly suspected that the ship hadn’t broken upover the Atlantic, and was in fact located somewhere in or near Metropolis.Depending on the size it would be difficult to hide, but Superman could surelylift the craft up and move it at will, which meant that it could be nearlyanywhere. All that was under the assumption that Superman was an alien - therewas still an outside possibility that there was some other explanation. If thespaceship existed, finding it was of utmost importance. Lex had already hireda team of private investigators to see if they could find some trace of aruined ship in the Atlantic, though without eyewitness accounts of where thespaceship had burned up it would be impossible. With them it would merely bevery, very difficult. Still, it was worth trying.
The next wave of bombs would be planted in two weeks time. Perhaps Lex wouldget lucky and Superman would prove to have a weakness.
Author’s Note: This chapter was getting too long, so I split it in half. Thenext half will come at the regularly scheduled time on Sunday night.
Any numbers that Lex or anyone else gives is their own best guess based onwhat might have been knowable in the 1930s before the age of the internet. Idon’t guarantee that these are at all period accurate, and obviously we’redealing with an alternate universe where a city named Metropolis exists.
A note on geography: I’m writing on the assumption that Metropolis replacesNew York City and Gotham City replaces Chicago, though with different citylayouts and some changes to small scale geography of the region.
Two historical notes: First, the American eugenics movement was still aliveand well at this time, so if you see references to it pop up here and there,just remember that this was an opinion you could voice without anyone reallyraising an eyebrow. Second, the United States really did denature alcohol,which wound up killing more people than Superman probably saves in a decade.The more you know!
As always, I appreciate any corrections, comments, or general feedback, andthanks for reading.
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