Es Percipi

Diplomatic relations became strained when the Targoffian Ambassador started selling miracle products on Earth. Products that didn't exist!...
Nicholson ducked into the room and squinted myopically through contact lenses which made his eyes look watery and far away. Better scram out the back way, boss, he said. That dame from the Department of Health and Public Welfare is here again.
Bryan Channing allowed himself ten seconds of barely audible swearing. Finally, he said, What does she expect me to do, snap my fingers and make the Ambassador from Targoff disappear?
It would be nice, Nicholson admitted.
Unfortunately, Bryan Channing said for the fifth time that day, our hands are tied. Sure, Earth can get along without Targoff. The galaxy would hardly know the difference if sub-space opened up a world-sized pocket tomorrow and swallowed Targoff and its sun.
But, said Nicholson.
Yes, but, I'll have to see the old battle-ax sooner or later, Nick. On your way out you might as well tell Julie to send her in.
Oh, am I leaving?
You get the idea, said Bryan Channing. You discovered Targoff, then dumped it in my lap. One of these days you better find us a planet which will make Health and P. W. happy. Now, beat it.
A moment after Nicholson had departed, the under-secretary of Health and Public Welfare opened the door with a well-manicured hand and followed it into Bryan Channing's office, which looked out on the East River and the dismantling job being done on the Queensboro Bridge through a solid wall of thermoglass.
I don't smoke and I don't drink on duty, she said primly after Bryan Channing had made the necessary gestures and offerings. There were twenty-two thousand divorces in the New York Metropolitan Area alone last week, Mr. Channing. I have figures for other locations, if you wish.
Just let my secretary have them on your way out.