ver grumbled in defeat. "I want something for my whisk--"

"Just the thing," she said enthusiastically, reaching out of his field
of vision. The hand came back with a package. "Tear off a capsule, crush
it, and apply to your face. It removes whiskers permanently for two
days, and leaves your face as soft and smooth as Martian down."

Jadiver shuddered. "I'd rather be a man than a bird. Do you have
anything that leaves a face feeling like skin?"

The robot harem girl stabbed out frantically, but nothing came to hand.
She turned around and went off to search. Jadiver sighed with relief and
started to scan the shelves. The robot returned before he could make a
selection.

"We have nothing like that," she said, crestfallen. "Asteroid alabaster
or hydroponic grapes and several other things, but no whiskoff that will
leave your face feeling like skin."

"Then order something that will," said Jadiver. "Meanwhile I'll settle
for a face of hydroponic grapes. Two weeks supply will be enough."

The robot complied eagerly. "Anything else? Shampoo?"

Jadiver looked at the list and nodded.

"No need to open the bottle," she rushed on. "Just place in the autobath
dispenser and let the machine do the rest. The bottle will dissolve,
adding to the secret ingredients. Foams in micro-seconds as proven by
actual test, and when you're through, only an expert can tell your hair
from mink."

"Mink?" he repeated. "Don't think I'd like it. What about raccoon? I've
always admired the legendary Daniel Boone, alone in the terrestrial
wilderness with a single-shot rifle. Sure, make it raccoon."

"I know we have none of that." The clerk was positive.

"Then order it," he snapped. "You don't have to furnish the rifle,
though."

She seemed confused. "There is a ten per cent extra charge for
non-standard merchandise."

"All right. Just don't stand there arguing."

When the clerk left the screen to place the order, Jadiver hastily
selected what he wanted. He validated the purchases and snapped off the
screen. The merchandise arrived in a few minutes.

He loaded it into the autobath. This time the door opened and the
bas-relief figure didn't appear on it. Within a half hour he was ready
to leave.

* * * * *

The door was not a door. It was a mirror, three-dimensional. The
difference to the eye was slight, but since he knew what to expect, it
was not difficult to detect. It was a legitimate piece of stagi