The Replicated Man

The door opens onto ruin and rust, buildings blown apart and left for time and sun and God alone knows what else to work them over. Ellen wrinkles her nose as she holds the door open. "Sorry about the smell," she says, "but nobody lives here except ghouls and a couple of bandit types. We'll be heading west to get you that armor and stop at Big Town; the doctor there gave me one of those holotapes."