handed it to him, and took
a place in the chair opposite. His voice went persuasive. "It's going
fine. You're on everybody's lips. First thing you know, some of the
armaments firms will be having you indorse their guns, swords, cannon,
or whatever."

"Oh, great," Joe growled. "Already my friends are ribbing me about
this fancy uniform and all the plugs I've been getting. The
glory-grabber isn't any more popular today among real pros than he's
ever been."

"Who gives a damn?" Freddy sneered, cynically. "We're not in this to
please your lame-brain mercenary pals with their soldier-of-fortune
codes of behavior. We're in this for Number One, Joe Mauser, and
Number Two, Freddy Soligen."

Joe put away the greater part of his drink. "Sure, sure, sure. But
where are we now? Your campaign has been in full swing for months.
What's accomplished?"

The small Telly reporter was indignant. "What's accomplished? We've
got three Major Joe Mauser buff clubs in full swing and five more
starting up. And next month you're going to be on the cover of the
_Fracas Times_."

"And I'm still a major and still Mid-Middle caste. And my stock shares
available for bribery are running short."

Freddy twisted his mouth and looked worriedly down into his glass. He
said unhappily, "We need a gimmick to climax all this. Some kind of
gimmick to bring you absolutely to the top."

"A gimmick?" Joe demanded. "What do you mean, a gimmick?"

"You're going to have to do something really spectacular. Make you the
biggest Telly hero of them all. We'll have to get you into a real
fracas and pull something dramatic. I don't know what, I don't seem to
be able to come up with an angle. But when I do, I'll guarantee that
every Telly camera covering the fracas will be zeroed in on Joe
Mauser."

"Great," Joe growled. "I've got just the gimmick. It'll wow them."

The Telly reported looked up, hopefully.

"I'll get killed in a burst of glory," Joe said.

V

A servant took Joe Mauser's cap at the door and requested that Joe
follow him. Joe trailed behind on the way to the living room of the
mansion, somewhat taken aback by the, to him, ostentation of the
display of the luxuries of yesteryear. Among them was to be numbered
the butler. Servants, other than military batmen, were simply not in
Joe's world. Only the Uppers were in position to utilise the full time
of individuals. Long years past, those tasks which once called for
servants had been automate