"They're very economical. They don't require any upkeep, like food. When they become tired they will sit or lie down near an electric outlet and plug in a power cord, and in a few minutes they are as rested and tireless as...."
"Bosh!" Red-tie retorted. "I've heard enough. Come, Millicent, we still have time to try Bonn's new Helio-rotor. At least they'll give us a demonstration."
Anson escorted them to the Magna-lift. He felt better as he recalled the last rule in the Guide, the one that seemed to cover the situation so well: Rule 50: If they balk because of the no-demonstration rule, let them go. They will be back when they have seen one of their friends with a Plasti-Cast Roboid.
"Good-bye, Sir; Madam," Anson said wearily, as the Magna-lift doors closed. "Come again soon."
He breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator cage dropped them from sight. A salesman, who had been standing by, spoke to Anson.
"People are such dears at times, aren't they?" he said. "However, it's time for your rest period. I'll take over now."
"Thank you so much," Anson replied tiredly.
He walked to a tiny room at the far end of the great showroom and closed the door. He stretched wearily out on a low, folding cot, the only piece of furniture, and reached for a tiny black power cord hanging nearby.
Deftly he plugged it into the socket under his armpit, and breathed deeply, relaxedly.
"Yes," he chanted softly, drifting off to sleep, "people are such dears sometimes."