Last night had gone well. The Old Man would give them a pre-paid vacation clearance to any

resort in the world or out. Why gloom?

He rubbed Bennie’s unruly hair, kissed Betty and conveyed over from Guest-ville to office.

Message-sec, in tone respect-admiration A, told him the Old Man was waiting for him. Susan, the human receptionist in the outer office, favored him with a dazzling smile. There was a girl who could sell; and had a product of her own, too.

The Old Man was at his big, oak desk but, a signal honor, he got up and came half across the room to grab Ben’s hand and shake it. “Got the full report, son. Checked the tapes already. That’s selling, boy! I’m proud of you. Tell you what, Ben. Instead of waiting for a sales slack, I’m going to move you and that sweet little wife of yours right into a spanking new, special Country Gentleman unit I had in mind for myself. And a nice, fat boost in your credit rating has already gone down to accounting. Good? Good. Now, Ben, I have a real, artistic sales challenge that is crying for your talent.”

“Sir? Thank you. But, sir, there is the matter of the vacation—”

“Vacation? Sure, Ben. Take a vacation anytime. But right now it seems to the Old Man you’re on a hot selling streak. I don’t want to see you get off the track, son; your [p 37] interests are mine. And wait till you get your teeth into this one. Books, Ben boy. Books! People are spending all their time sitting in on Tri-deo, not reading. People should read more, Ben. Gives them that healthy tired feeling. Now we have the product. We have senior Robo-writers with more circuits than ever before. All possible information, every conceivable plot. Maybe a saturation guilt type campaign to start—but it’s up to you, Ben. I don’t care how you do it, but move books.”

“Books, eh? Well, now.” Ben was interested. “Funny thing, sir, but that ties in with something I was thinking about just last night.”

“You have an angle? Good boy!”

“Yes, sir. Well, it is a wild thought maybe, but last summer when I was on vacation I met a man up at that new camp and—well, I know it sounds silly, but he was writing a book.”

“Nonsense!”

“Just what I thought, sir. But I read some of it and, I don’t know, it had a sort of a feel about it. Something new, sir, it might catch on.”

“All right, all right. That’s enough. You’re a salesman. You’ve sold me.”

“On the book?” Ben was surprised.

“Quit pulling an old man’s leg, Ben. I’m sold on your needing a vacation. I’ll fill out

your vacation pass right now.” The Old Man, still a vigorous, vital figure, turned and walked back to his Desk-sec. “Yes sir,” said the secretarial voice, “got it. Vacation clearance for Tilman, Ben, any resort.”

“And family,” said Ben.

“And family. Very good, sir.”

The Old Man made his sign on the pass and said heavily, “All right then, Ben. That’s it. Maybe if you go back up to that place for a few days and see that psycho who was writing a book again, perhaps you’ll realize how impractical it is.”

“But sir! I’m serious about that book. It really did have—” he broke off.

[p 36]

The Old Man was sitting there, face blank, withdrawn. Ben could feel he wasn’t even