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Chapter 6: The Birth of Industry

August 12, 1631: Dave Marcantonio’s Shop

David Bartley, the proud uncle, watched Brent, Trent, their father, and Mr. Marcantonio—new daddies all—gathered around at the birth of their machines. Triplets, but not quite identical. David, as was appropriate for an uncle, was pleased, but not totally enraptured by the appropriate number of fingers and toes, or in this case gears, levers and cutting blades. Donny, on the other hand, was thrilled to be included.

The machines worked, but like many babies were just a bit cranky. There were places where the gears stuck, just a bit. It was hoped that with use they would smooth out. It would take some skill to use them. Not so much as Mr. Marcantonio had, nor so much as the down-time smiths had. These were finishing machines that took a blank provided by a down-time smith or foundry, and fined them up. Trent and Brent would be using them first, and for the moment they would stay in a corner of Mr. Marcantonio’s shop.

August 25, 1631

After the initial burst of activity, things slowed to a snail’s pace as more urgent jobs claimed more and more of Dave Marcantonio’s time. He was fitting in parts of their machines wherever he could, but he didn’t have a lot of slack time. They were doing a lot better with the down-time contractors, in spite of the fact that they had to watch every cent, and bargain prices generally don’t go with fast delivery.

Still, money-wise they were doing better than expected. Mr. Marcantonio had the blanks he needed to make the next four of the production machines, and at about two-thirds of what they had expected to pay. They also had a small but respectable stock of down-timer made sewing machine parts, at better prices than expected. Partly this was due to Johan’s bargaining skills, but mostly it was because the down-time shops had been losing a lot of their normal business to the up-time shops, and they badly needed the work.

Sarah, and especially her parents, were worried about the situation. One of the dangers of introducing a lot of new products into an economy is that it can cause deflation that leads to a depression. Some of the merchants and many of the farming villages around the Ring of Fire were accepting American money, but not all of them. Without the American money, the sudden influx of goods and services could end up ruining everyone within fifty miles of the Ring of Fire.

Which was why they were getting their parts for such low prices. The craft shops in the area were desperate for business, any business. The HSMC’s money was buying more than it should have been.

August 27, 1631: Delia Higgins’ Garage

“It’s still good,” said Brent, as they fiddled with one of the five partially completed sewing machines, “it’s only about an eighth of an inch shallow.”

“I don’t know,” said Trent. “If the catcher is an eighth of an inch off the other way it’ll jam.” The catcher was the twins’ term for a device that hooked the thread and pulled it around the bobbin every other stitch. Unfortunately, several of the parts to the bobbin assembly were still waiting on finishing machines to come out of Mr. Marcantonio’s shop. So, while the needles went up and down, and the “thread puller” pulled the thread at the right time as far as the boys could tell, they were still some distance from actually sewing a single stitch.

September 1, 1631: Grantville High School

“Hey, Brent. Do you really own a company?”

“What are you taking this year?”

“What’s this shit about you owning a company?”

“Yeah, they make sewing machines so they can have clothes for their dollies.”

“Except, they ain’t actually made no sewing machines yet, and I hear they never will.”

“I don’t know. I heard that Mr. Marcantonio said that they designed good machines, and that some of them are going to be used in shop class.” Which was the first Brent had heard about that.

The first day as a sophomore in high school is supposed to be different from the first day as a freshman. Well, this was certainly different. People who would not talk to lowly freshmen when they were sophomores and juniors, now as juniors and seniors, seemed quite willing to talk to lowly sophomores, at least if those sophomores owned a company. Others seemed to resent them for not staying in their place.

Then there were their classmates.

A significant percentage thought the whole thing was ridiculous. That Delia and the kids were wasting valuable resources that Grantville needed for other things. That they would never build a working sewing machine, and even if they did, why weren’t they using the money for something that mattered? Like weapons or reapers?

“I’ll tell you why,” said one would-be wit. “Because no one would let the Bill Gates wannabes mess with something that mattered.”

Sarah almost got in a fight over that one. “Baby Gates” was the first, but not the most popular of the nicknames the four got. The “Sewing Circle” was the favorite. Then there was the rather convoluted “Barbershop quartet,” based on the notion that they were four would-be “singers.”

They found a similar range of attitudes, mostly without the name calling, among the teachers. Some were enthusiastic, some concerned, and some sarcastic.

All in all, the change in status made it a difficult and confusing first day, to be followed by a difficult and confusing first week. All of the “Sewing Circle” had some heavy-duty adjustments to make. Over the summer they had been less involved in high school stuff than most of the kids in Grantville. They had after all, been rather busy.

“This too shall pass,” and it did. There was altogether too much going on for any but the most obsessive to keep up the teasing for long. It rapidly became just one more thing among many that the sophomores in Grantville High concerned themselves with. There were discussions about the army, about the future of Grantville, and about the German immigrants. Then there were the German students. Who had their own attitudes and beliefs.

The German students were, for the first few weeks, reluctant to put themselves forward. Partly this was because of the language barrier, but not entirely. They also felt a status difference. The up-timers were rich, with rich parents, and the down-timers were refugees. Don’t give offense, study hard, and make friends. These instructions, often contradictory in practice, were impressed on the down-timer kids by their parents, all too often using a belt or a rod to reinforce the point.

Their attitude toward the “Sewing Circle” was somewhat different. To them, the important point was not whether the sewing machine company would actually succeed. That wasn’t unimportant, but the really important point was that the “Sewing Circle” had parents who could afford to start them in a business. Granted, all the up-timers were rich, but there’s rich, and then there’s rich.

Since Delia Higgins was the backer of the enterprise, this attitude focused on David.

Short and skinny for his age, David Bartley had never been one of the popular kids among the up-timers. Mostly, he still wasn’t. But among the down-timers he was very popular—especially with the down-timer girls.

The down-time girls took a pragmatic view of romance. David, Brent and Trent—but especially David—looked like they might be wealthy enough to marry years before most other boys in school. Not that the girls were looking to marry right away, but the period between puberty and satisfaction was uncomfortably long for a tailor’s daughter.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, David didn’t really know how to handle the situation.

September 3, 1631: the High School

Vicky Emerson looked around the cafeteria and frowned. The cafeteria was packed, mostly with down-timers, and Vicky was feeling more than a little lost. The down-timers were a mixed bag. Most of them were the children of refugees, but there was a sprinkling of the daughters of the wealthy from the surrounding towns. Vicky saw one of them, a girl dressed in a fur-lined cloak and a fine woolen dress. Vicky suddenly felt dowdy in her "a bit too small" last year's clothes. Down-time clothing was very expensive and Mom had explained that with the new baby and the uncertainty, for the time being, Vicky would have to make do with what she had.

Last year's jeans wouldn't do. They were kind of high-water, since she'd gotten a little taller. Her up-time skirts were way too short for the here and now. She needed long dresses and fur. That's what the well-off down-timer girls were wearing. She wondered if she could borrow something from Ursula Kunze.

Ursula was a down-timer, the granddaughter of Frantz Kunze, who was on the town council of Badenburg. Vicky went up to the girl, who didn't speak English very well, and tried to start a conversation. The problem was they didn't have a language in common. So the talk floundered shortly after Guten Tag and "You have a pretty cloak," with pointing.

Vicky got a Danke and something that might have been a return compliment. Vicky was persistent, so that day in German class, she asked the teacher about clothing and tried again the next day. She got a bit farther and even managed to invite Ursula over to her house after school, and got the impression that Ursula must ask permission. It would be the next week before Ursula could come over, and in the meantime there were other contacts going on.

September 5, 1631: Delia Higgins’ House

There were extra guests for dinner at Delia Higgins’ house the night of the first TV broadcast. Ramona had invited Karl Schmidt and his family. They had been seeing each other since mid-August. Not every day, but once a week or so, Karl would bring in a load of parts and Ramona would take the afternoon off.

Delia was slightly concerned. David wasn’t, not anymore. Acculturation works both ways and it works faster on kids. Johan had been acculturating David right along. Besides, it wasn’t that much of a jump really, just putting it in terms appropriate to the time. David had had a conversation with Master Schmidt. Ramona Higgins was a lady of high station, with a family that would take it very badly if she were treated with a lack of respect. Normally such comments from a boy just turned fifteen might be ignored. In this case, however, Johan was sitting a few feet away cleaning a double-barreled shotgun and adding translation and mistranslation as needed. Besides, in the discussions about the sewing machine parts, David had gotten to know Karl a little bit. He was bigoted, but no more than most, and he wasn’t a user, unlike some of his mom’s previous men.

Karl had not been insulted, or particularly frightened. Just cautioned. After all, Young Master Bartley had not told him to stop seeing Ramona, simply to treat her with respect. It reaffirmed her status, without closing the door in his face. To Karl, the surprising thing was that the door was not closed. David had managed to come off like a young baron allowing a commoner to court his mother because that’s what his mother wanted.

Karl knew that David was not titled. He also knew that the President of Grantville was not titled. Titles didn’t matter here, power mattered. If Karl played his cards right, he might well be accepted into this new informal nobility, and his family with him.

He had treated her with respect. Perhaps a bit more respect than Ramona really wanted. Certainly enough respect that he had swept her off her feet. Hence the dinner invitation. She wanted to meet his family. She wanted her family to meet his family, and she wanted everything to go well. She had fussed all day.

Normally dinner at the Higgins house was informal. The “servants” ate with the family. Not this time. Liesel would have none of it, and neither would Johan. There would be guests. Liesel would serve, Johan would get the door. Liesel was quite fond of Ramona, in a subservient materialistic sort of way. They would make a good impression.

* * *

They did, actually. The servants provided the comfort of familiarity. The food was rich, and excitingly varied. Something called “Orange Jell-O” for dessert. The house was a glory of technological innovation. These days, oil lamps were used in the Higgins' house and light bulbs were hoarded; but for tonight, the lights were switched on. The cassette recorder provided a large selection of music in various styles. The doll collection managed to surpass its reputation. Not an easy thing to do, for it had grown in the telling.

Finally, there was the welcoming attitude. The Schmidt family found them quite condescending, in the old meaning of the word. They had clearly stepped down from their position of rank to make their guests comfortable. They hadn’t, of course, but it seemed that way to the Schmidt family.

Dinner discussion started on the sewing machine company, but wandered far afield, to technology, customs, economics, schooling, fashion and culture. Ramona was somewhat successful in including the Schmidt girls in the conversation. Adolph was particularly interested in the electric lights, and as he learned of them, in the other electronic devices.

Dinner ended, as all things must, and it was time for the show. The television was turned on in time to see the hostess sitting down, but they missed the kiss. It didn’t matter much, since of his family only Karl had ever seen TV before.

Rebecca was a wow! For the Schmidt family, it was suddenly like they knew her. Beautiful and gracious, looking them right in the eye, explaining the circumstances within the Ring of Fire, speaking of rationing, but that no one would go hungry. Her comments about Americans needing lots of meat to cook brought an extra delight; tonight’s dinner had been rich in meat.

The Buster Keaton movie was a marvel. Made more marvelous for the Higgins clan by the Schmidt clan’s wonder. Then Rebecca came back on. She discussed briefly the production projects, not mentioning the sewing machine project. It had for the most part fallen below adult radar. Then she began to discuss the military situation.

“I am Jewish, as you know,” she said. But the Schmidt family hadn’t known, except for Karl, and not even he had really thought about it. This Royal Lady, with the steady eye, and commanding presence, was a Jew. Well, no wonder she was engaged to the leader of the Americans, Jew or not. This was Uriel Abrabanel’s niece, and there was a family resemblance now that he looked for it. Karl’s prejudice took another hit that night. It was a fairly big hit, but prejudice takes a lot of chipping away.

Rebecca was still talking, still looking them in the eye. That same sense of involvement that had made Marie Schmidt warn Buster Keaton of impending doom now held Delia and her family silent. Rebecca Abrabanel was not a lady you challenged to her face. By the time the show was over the Jewish princess had more converts to her cause. Tentative converts true, uncertain of what the cause was. Even more uncertain of their place in this new world of magic and miracles, but converts none the less.

And they weren't the only down-timer converts. All over Grantville, down-timers, refugees and nearby residents, were invited to see the first broadcast of the High School Television Station.

September 5, 1631: Emerson House

Vicky, Ursula Kunze, and Ursula's maid adjourned to Vicky's room. Herr Kunze and his wife were in the living room talking with Mom. The carriage driver was in the kitchen, talking with the Emerson's new German maid. Vicky turned on the light, even though she wasn't supposed to use it unnecessarily. Everyone was conserving light bulbs now, but this was a special case.

Vicky then proceeded to show Ursula and her maid Hilda around. She showed them her stuffed unicorn and the posters from a boy band that was left up-time. She had some difficulty explaining what a band was and played some of the songs. Ursula was impressed by the recording, but not by the music. And, in general, they got along, Vicky admiring Ursula's clothing and Ursula a little scandalized by Vicky's.

Vicky showed Ursula the remains of her Barbie doll collection and Ursula was entranced by the Barbies. Not so much by the doll house, though she found it interesting. She was impressed by plastic, but its use in the dolls impressed her a lot more than in the doll house, which could be made of wood perfectly well. She did find the toilet interesting. She used one in school and recognized it well enough, and she wanted one at home, though she knew that would be a while in coming. She liked Vicky Emerson and understood the girl's concern. She had seen Vicky's closet and lots of the clothing there, but also seen the fact that much of it was too small for comfort.

Ursula really wanted those dolls, though. She had never had or seen anything like them. The closest she had come was a cousin's doll that had a porcelain head and hands on a cloth body, and even the porcelain head hadn't had hair—real hair, not just painted on hair. Maria Anna had bragged on that cursed doll for the whole trip and never once let anyone else even hold it. So, to have dolls like this would be a major coup. "I'll trade you this outfit, all of it, for the dolls," she blurted.

"Really? Will your parents let you?" Vicky asked.

"Hilda, if you tell . . .." Ursula started, then stopped. That was the wrong approach. Hilda was stubborn, but also greedy. And she could spoil the whole deal by telling Papa. It wasn't like they could make the trade now. What would Ursula wear home? "You know that scarf you wanted?" she offered in a wheedling tone.

"No," Hilda said. "I want that." She pointed at a hand-mirror with a pink plastic handle.

There were more negotiations, and deep and solemn oaths of secrecy exchanged, then the trade was agreed upon. They would make the exchange the next day at school. They had managed, mostly, to put aside the fact that both their parents were going to be really angry at the trade, and justified it on the basis of helping to strengthen relations between Grantville and Badenburg. They weren't going to announce the trade to their respective parents till they each had some time with the goods. Vicky would have at least one day at school with her new outfit and Ursula would have the same with the dolls.

September 8, 1631: Kunze House, Badenburg

The trade had gone splendidly and Ursula was trying to find just the right place for each of her six up-time plastic Barbie Dolls, when disaster entered her room without even knocking. Her little brother, five years old, wandered in and reached for one of her brand new Barbie dolls with his snotty little hand.

She grabbed the Barbie doll out of danger and the little monster started screaming, "I wanna play with it." Then in came Mama to settle things, and she saw the dolls.

"Where did you get those?"

"I traded Vicky Emerson a whole outfit for them."

"Which outfit?"

"My new one."

Mama gasped. "Your new one! What were you thinking? That cloak cost a fortune!"

Papa was called in and saw the dolls. "Ursula probably got the better of the deal. Which could cause worse problems, now that I think about it. I don't want the people who command that sort of an army angry at Badenburg. We'll need to talk to the Emersons and be prepared to reverse the deal if they feel ill used."

That got Papa in trouble with Mama, but he insisted anyway.

September 8, 1631

The carriage ride to Grantville had taken an hour. The phone call to the Emersons had assured their welcome. Apparently Vicky had been trying on the new clothing and her mother wondered where she had gotten the mink-lined cloak.

Mrs. Emerson was friendly. Mr. Emerson was the second shift boss of the power plant so wasn't present, his duties keeping him away from home in the evenings. However, Mrs. Emerson called him and filled him in and when the Kunzes arrived she had called him again, then handed Bernhard Kunze the phone while escorting his wife and daughter back to the living room.

"Herr Kunze, my German is not good," Mr. Emerson explained with great honesty in barely understandable German, with the word in the wrong place as well as horribly accented. "So I have asked Herr Alvarez, a down-timer who works as a guard at the power plant and who speaks both German and seventeenth-century English, to help interpret. I thought I should tell you so that if you felt this should remain between just us I can let him go back to his normal duties and we can something through."

After listening to Mr. Emerson's German, Herr Kunze was in no doubt at all that an interpreter would be needed. Nor was he overly worried about news getting out. This, after all, was the sort of mischief that youngsters got into and he doubted that had changed between the seventeenth and twentieth centuries. Besides, he was going to leave whether to let the deal stand in Herr Emerson's hands. He said, "I'll be grateful for Herr Alvarez's help. My English is not good either." Which was true, even if it was rather better than Herr Emerson's German. Then he went on to explain the situation as he saw it, pointing out that he thought Ursula had gotten better of the deal. A new mink-lined cloak could be acquired. At some expense, yes, but acquired nonetheless. Barbie dolls, on the other hand, were irreplaceable.

Through Herr Alvarez, he was asked what he would do if the deal had gone the other way and he admitted that he would probably insist the deal stand to teach Ursula to be more careful. "But not," he added carefully, "if the deal might damage the family accounts in any serious way."

"I don't think that the family will be hurt by the loss of few Barbie dolls. No matter how expensive they turn out to be, it's not money we were counting on."

Much the same conversation was going on between the mothers, with the daughters doing the interpreting. But with the addition that Vicky was insisting that she needed the new clothing and Ursula down-playing the value of the dolls, but starting to feel a bit smug about her deal. Neither Vicky nor Ursula wanted to cancel the deal. Both girls knew that they had overstepped, but at the same time, the points of contention were Vicky's dolls and Ursula's clothing. In a way, Ursula had overstepped more than Vicky had, because the clothes would have gone into a trunk when she outgrew them and be pulled out when her younger sister got big enough for them. Or, they might have been sold, used by the family to recoup the expense of buying them. But her family could handle that by seizure of the dolls from Ursula, or taking one of the dolls to sell and recoup the expense that way.

Then Bernhard Kunze came into the room. The daddies had decided that the deal would stand, but any future deals would need prior parental consent.

September 8 1631: Grantville High School Cafeteria

"I love your outfit, Vicky," Heather Mason said. "I thought your mom said they couldn't afford new clothing for now?"

"I bought them myself. I traded my Barbies for them." By this time Vicky had almost forgotten about the whole Barbie storage plan and it just slipped out. Heather didn't seem all that upset by the news, either

"How many Barbies?" It was down-time made clothing and top quality. By this time all the girls in Grantville High who were interested in that sort of thing could tell the difference. All in all, it was a good day for Vicky's popularity in the ninth grade. There was considerable talk among the other members of the Barbie Consortium about it perhaps being time to cash in on their dolls for things like new clothing or, in the case of Hayley Fortney, a new steam condenser that she wanted.

Judy just barely managed to keep the other girls from running off to sell their Barbies by promising them news of how to invest the money they would bring soon.

* * *

"Vicky's going to ruin everything!" Judy the Younger said as she burst into the home office of her mother.

Judy the Elder was going over spreadsheets on the family computer, which had been the business computer before the Ring of Fire. The Wendells had been insurance agents before that, with Fletcher the seller and Judy handling the books and paperwork. It had left them about as well equipped as anyone in Grantville to do economic and financial projections. Not better than the bank or the credit union, but about as good. That was why Fletcher had ended up on the Finance Subcommittee, and Judy the Elder was still doing most of the early stage financial projections and prospectus building. She wasn't the only one. Both banks had people doing the same thing and checking each other. That was in large part because they were still all guessing. So Judy the Elder was not thrilled to have her daughter yelling while she tried to work. "There is no reason to shout, Judith. Now, with your indoor voice, what is Vicky doing to ruin everything?"

"Sorry, Mom."

Judy the Younger sounded contrite. She did contrite quite well. Much better than Judy the Elder had ever managed. Through long experience, mother recognized the slight pro forma edge in the voice . . . but she let it pass.

"Vicky sold six of her dolls for a new outfit. And now the other girls are talking about selling theirs and I don't have anything for them to invest in. I was waiting till Sarah and them manned up and decided to go public."

"What on Earth makes you think that Delia has any interest in going public?"

"Everyone's doing it." Which, apparently for Judy, was enough to make it mandatory. "Besides, Sarah's been looking at incorporation."

Which was the first Judy the Elder had heard of that. She wanted to ask how Judy the Younger knew that, but by this time she had realized that Judy almost always knew what everyone else was up to, through some sort of gossipy osmosis. So instead she asked, "Why is Sarah looking to incorporate."

"Because she doesn't want Mrs. Higgins to have to sell more of her dolls. She feels all guilty about that." Judy's shrug was eloquent on the subject of the silliness of people who felt guilty getting other people to help them.

* * *

Judy the Elder called Angela Ugolini and Dana Fortney and told the story of the dolls for clothing.

Dana Fortney called Vickie Mason. Angela Ugolini called the Emersons to get their version, and then called Anita Barnes.

In some cases subtle, and in some cases not subtle at all, instructions were given to the girls of the Barbie Consortium. Even Vicky. There would be no more Barbie sales without parental approval.

Nowhere in the phone tree was Velma Hardesty, Susan Logsden's mother. This was, in large part, because Velma Hardesty wasn't well liked by the respectable ladies of Grantville. She had never been part of the small town parental network, and didn't want to be. On those occasions in the past when she had been approached, her response had been universally negative . . . and usually rude.

September 10, 1631: Grantville High School Cafeteria

"Who told?" Vicky Emerson wanted to know.

The Barbie Consortium members were sitting at a table together, after the word had come down.

"In Grantville?" Judy asked. "Everyone and no one. Heck, I bet your mom called someone."

Vicky sniffed, but it wasn't convincing.

"Well, it doesn't matter. We can't sell our dolls without our parents' consent, no matter how it happened," Hayley Fortney said.

"What we need is a Delia Higgins!" Judy said suddenly.

"I don't know. The way I heard it, she's the one running things," Gabrielle Ugolini.

"Nah. That's just what the parents want to think. It's the Sewing Circle themselves, and they are getting close to working sewing machines," Judy said.

"I'll believe that when I see it," said Hayley Fortney, the acknowledged mechanical expert among the girls, and generally agreed to be the smartest kid in the ninth grade. "You know how complicated a sewing machine is?"

"As complicated as a steam engine?" Vicky asked, curiosity outweighing her earlier irritation.

"Much more complex," Hayley said.

"Never mind that," Heather Mason said. "How do we get control of our dolls back?"

"Like I said, we need our own Delia Higgins. A grownup our parents will trust."

"Sure, but how do we find one?"

Vicky suddenly spoke up. "What about a down-timer?"

"I don't know," Judy said, feeling just a bit bad about saying it. Judy knew several down-timers and she made a conscious effort to try and get to know them. She had a lot of down-time friends and, in part because of that, she was more than a bit leer of down-time notions of parental authority and discipline. The seventeenth century was a century of "spare the rod and spoil the child." Judy didn't think she had ever been spanked in her life and wasn't at all sure that she wanted anything of hers under the authority of a down-time adult. "They seem pretty harsh to the kids here in school."

"I was thinking that Ursula Kunze's dad might know someone. We've talked some and he and his wife seem okay."

Judy considered. It was a way to keep Vicky in the group and, as irritated with Vicky as she often got, she wanted Vicky in the group. Besides, if she went along, so would the other girls. And then Vicky would owe her one. "Okay. See what you can find out. But we all have to agree before we hire anyone."

"You know, until we hire someone, we're all going to have to go to our parents and they are going to want to interfere in everything," Millicent Anne Barnes said.

September 16, 1631: Schmidt Household

They had talked around it after they got back from the Higgins house. In fact the visit had dominated conversation for several days. They called so much into question, these Americans. They offered so much, but at a price. It was a strange price, and the Schmidt family wasn’t sure they could pay it.

Almost, it was a devil’s bargain: wealth, power, even glory of a kind, for giving up some certainties. Beliefs are a bit like the soul. They aren’t material, they can’t be pointed to, but they are part of what makes us what we are. You can’t just decide to give them up either, they stick around even when you know better. The Schmidt family didn’t think it through like that. Certainly not in those terms. Instead they had an uneasy feeling, like they were about to step off a precipice. Scared and excited. What they talked about by turns, were the marvels and the outrages.

“Music coming out of a box.”

“A Jewish woman talking publicly of politics.”

“Light at the flick of a switch.”

“Dresses above the knee.”

“Becky seemed honest?”

“I’ve spent my life learning the trade of a smith. I know the making of tools, and little boys are to tell me how to make things.”

“No, Adolph, not how to make things—just what things they will buy.”

“To be paid for with pieces of paper?”

It went on, but the Schmidts were pragmatic people. So much to be gained.


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