tly. "Ticklers are not a
fad--they're history-changers, they're Free-World revolutionary! Why,
before Micro Systems put a single one on the market, we'd made it a
rule that every Micro employee had to wear one! If that's not having
supreme confidence in a product--"

"Every employee except the top executives, of course," Gusterson
interrupted jeeringly. "And that's not demoting you, Fay. As the R & D
chief most closely involved, you'd naturally have to show special
enthusiasm."

"But you're wrong there, Gussy," Fay crowed. "Man for man, our top
executives have been more enthusiastic about their personal ticklers
than any other class of worker in the whole outfit."

Gusterson slumped and shook his head. "If that's the case," he said
darkly, "maybe mankind deserves the tickler."

* * * * *

"I'll say it does!" Fay agreed loudly without thinking. Then, "Oh, can
the carping, Gussy. Tickler's a great invention. Don't deprecate it
just because you had something to do with its genesis. You're going to
have to get in the swim and wear one."

"Maybe I'd rather drown horribly."

"Can the gloom-talk too! Gussy, I said it before and I say it again,
you're just scared of this new thing. Why, you've even got the drapes
pulled so you won't have to look at the tickler factory."

"Yes, I am scared," Gusterson said. "Really sca ... AWP!"

Fay whirled around. Daisy was standing in the bedroom doorway, wearing
the short silver sheath. This time there was no mask, but her bobbed
hair was glitteringly silvered, while her legs, arms, hands, neck,
face--every bit of her exposed skin--was painted with beautifully even
vertical green stripes.

"I did it as a surprise for Gusterson," she explained to Fay. "He says
he likes me this way. The green glop's supposed to be smudgeproof."

Gusterson did not comment. His face had a rapt expression. "I'll tell
you why your tickler's so popular, Fay," he said softly. "It's not
because it backstops the memory or because it boosts the ego with
subliminals. It's because it takes the hook out of a guy, it takes
over the job of withstanding the pressure of living. See, Fay, here
are all these little guys in this subterranean rat race with
atomic-death squares and chromium-plated reward squares and enough
money if you pass Go almost to get to Go again--and a million million
rules of the game to keep in mind. Well, here's this one little guy
and every morning he wakes u