The screen goes blank, and we stare at each other. It’s bound to be right. A logic workin’ the Carson Circuit can no more make a mistake than any other kinda computin’ machine. I call the tank in a hurry.
“Hey, you guys!” I yell. “Somethin’s happened! Logics are givin’ detailed instructions for wife-murder! Check your censor-circuits—but quick!”
That was close, I think. But little do I know. At that precise instant, over on Monroe Avenue, a drunk starts to punch for somethin’ on a logic. The screen says “Announcing new and improved logics service! If you want to do something and don’t know how to do it—ask your logic!” And the drunk says, owlish, “I’ll do it!” So he cancels his first punching and fumbles around and says: “How can I keep my wife from finding out I’ve been drinking?” And the screen says, prompt: “Buy a bottle of Franine hair shampoo. It is harmless but contains a detergent which will neutralize ethyl alcohol immediately. Take one teaspoonful for each jigger of hundred-proof you have consumed.”
This guy was plenty plastered—just plastered enough to stagger next door and obey instructions. An’ five minutes later he was cold sober and writing down the information so he couldn’t forget it. It was new, and it was big! He got rich offa that memo! He patented “SOBUH, The Drink that Makes Happy Homes!” You can top off any souse with a slug or two of it an’ go home sober as a judge. The guy’s cussin’ income taxes right now!
You can’t kick on stuff like that. But a ambitious young fourteen-year-old wanted to buy some kid stuff and his pop wouldn’t fork over. He called up a friend to tell his troubles. And his logic says: “If you want to do something and don’t know how to do it—ask your logic!” So this kid punches: “How can I make a lotta money, fast?”