We want Jim Briskin to come up here to the Golden Door and be photographed publicly.' It added, in applause for itself, 'Good idea. Get it, Sal ? Briskin arrives here, covered by all the media, and visits one of the girls; it'll be good for his image because it'll show he's a normal guy -

and not some creep. So you benefit from this. And, while he's here, Briskin compliments us.' It added, 'A good final touch but optional. For instance, he says the national interest has - '

'He'll never do it,' Sal said. 'He'll lose the election first.'

The head said, plaintively, 'We'll give him any girl he wants; my lord, we have five thousand to choose from!'

'No luck,' Sal Heim said. 'Now if you were to make that offer to me I'd take you up on it in a second. But not Jim. He's - old-fashioned.' That was as good a way to put it as any. 'He's a

Puritan. You can call him a remnant of the twentieth century, if you want.'

'Or nineteenth,' the head said, venomously.

'Say anything you want,' Sal said, nodding. 'Jim won't care. He knows what he believes in; he thinks the satellite is undignified. The way it's all handled up here, boom, boom, boom -

mechanically, with no personal touch, no meeting of humans on a human basis. You run an autofac; I don't object and most people don't object, because it saves times. But Jim does, because he's sentimental.'

Two right arms gestured at Sal menacingly as the head said loudly, 'The hell with that! We're as sentimental up here as you can get! We play background music in every room - the girls always learn the customer's first name and they're required to call him by that and nothing else! How sentimental can you get, for chrissakes ? 'What do you want ?' In a higher-pitched voice it roared on, 'A marriage ceremony before and then a divorce procedure afterward, so it constitutes a legal marriage, is that it ? Or do you want us to teach the girls to sew mother hubbards and bloomers, and you pay to see their ankles, and that's it ? Listen, Sal.' Its voice dropped a tone, became ominous and deadly 'Listen, Sal Heim,' it repeated. 'We know our business; don't tell us our business and we won't tell you yours. Starting tonight our TV announcers are going to insert a plug for Schwarz in every telecast to Earth, right in the middle of the glorious chef-d'oeuvre youknow-