, to be the title and theme song of Monica's newest epic.

[Illustration: Monica's image--plastered across the heavens--stopped
traffic in all directions.]

It was a triumph. Tom knew it the moment he looked down at the crowded
thoroughfare eighteen stories beneath the window. Traffic had come to a
more than normal standstill. Drivers were leaving their autos, and hands
were being upraised towards the gargantuan face on the clouds above.

And of course, Tom's phone rang.

* * * * *

Ostreich's big scowling face was barely squeezed within the confines of
the visiphone screen. He said nothing intelligible for two minutes.

"Relax, Chief," Tom said brightly. "I've been saving this as a
surprise."

Ostreich's reply was censorable.

"Now look, D. O. You gave me _carte blanche_ with this Mitchell babe,
remember? I figured we really needed a shot in the arm for this new
picture of hers. The receipts on her last turkey couldn't pay her
masseurs."

Ostreich, who had built his firm by establishing golden public images
for various industrialists and their enterprises, had anticipated
trouble the moment he let the barrier down to admit such unworthy
clients as Monica Mitchell. But he had never anticipated that his ace
publicist would display such carnival tactics in their promotion. He
growled like a taunted leopard.

"This is a cheap trick, Tom! Do you hear me? Turn that thing off at
once!"

"Who, me?" Tom said innocently. "Gosh, D. O. I'm no engineer. I left
instructions with the operator to keep the projector going for three
hours, until sunset. Don't think I can do anything about it now."

"You'll damn well _have_ to do something about it! You're ruining us!"

"Look at it this way, Chief. What can we lose? If anybody takes offense,
we can blame it on that Hollywood gang."

"Turn that damn thing off! If that blankety face isn't out of the sky in
ten minutes, you can start emptying your desk!"

Tom was a redhead. He reached over and snapped the visiphone switch
before his boss could have the satisfaction. He stomped to the window,
still raging at Ostreich's lack of appreciation.

But he chuckled when he saw the activity in the street. The crowds were
thickening at the intersections, and a special battalion of city police
were trying to keep things moving. Behind him, the visiphone was beeping
frantically again.

He waited a full minute before answering, all set to snap at Ostrei