"Of course," Trader Tom replied, "I suspected. It is not so unusual, you know. Sign here. And here. Two copies. This is yours. Thank you so much."
Manet handed back the pen and stared at the laminated card in his hand.
When he looked up from the card, Manet saw the box. Trader Tom was pushing it across the floor towards him.
The box had the general dimensions of a coffin, but it wasn't wood—only brightly illustrated cardboard. There was a large four-color picture on the lid showing men, women and children moving through a busy city street. The red and blue letters said:
LIFO
The Socialization Kit
"It is commercialized," Trader Tom admitted with no little chagrin. "It is presented to appeal to a twelve-year-old child, an erotic, aggressive twelve-year-old, the typical sensie goer—but that is reality. It offends men of good taste like ourselves, yet sometimes it approaches being art. We must accept it."
"What's the cost?" Manet asked. "Before I accept it, I have to know the charges."