Man's Best Friend

By EVELYN E. SMITH
Illustrated by MEL HUNTER
Sometimes a job comes after the man ... and this one came after Gervase like a tiger!
The annunciator aroused Gervase from pleasant semi-slumber. He knew the interruption was his own fault for not having turned off the device, but he so seldom had a visitor that he could hardly be blamed for his forgetfulness. Frowning, he pressed the viewer button. A round, red face appeared on the screen. May I be the first to congratulate you, Mr. Schnee? it said.
You may, indeed, Gervase replied. But for what?
You haven't heard the news? Good, then I'm the first. I imagine I got a head-start on the others because of my superior facilities for locating you. Your address wasn't given; these pronouncements do tend to be a bit vague. Matter of tradition, I suppose.
I haven't heard any news for days, Gervase said, uncomfortably conscious that he was apologizing. I've been listening to my sound-tapes and—and meditating, he added defiantly. Wait a minute; I'll let you in.
He struggled with the door-stud, but the door refused to open. The autobursar must have neglected to pay the door bill—probably because Gervase had failed to put enough money into it. But his allowance was limited and sound-tapes, not to speak of meditators, were so expensive.
Sighing, Gervase got up and opened the door manually. The individual outside was short and stout and dressed, unfortunately, in the uniform of an upper-echelon salesman. Gervase had been caught! Still, he reminded himself, no one could force him to buy anything. He was a free citizen.
Well, come in if you must, he said grudgingly. I suppose the big news is that I'm the lucky householder to whom the Little Gem Room Expander will first be offered.
Nothing of the sort! the man replied indignantly.
At this point, Gervase noticed with surprise that the other wore a jeweled merchant-prince's badge. Apparently this was one of those consumer reaction tests in which executives themselves participated to check on their employees.