see you get
off the track, son; your interests are mine. And wait till you get
your teeth into this one. Books, Ben boy. Books! People are spending all
their time sitting in on Tri-deo, not reading. People should read more,
Ben. Gives them that healthy tired feeling. Now we have the product. We
have senior Robo-writers with more circuits than ever before. All
possible information, every conceivable plot. Maybe a saturation guilt
type campaign to start--but it's up to you, Ben. I don't care how you do
it, but move books."

"Books, eh? Well, now." Ben was interested. "Funny thing, sir, but that
ties in with something I was thinking about just last night."

"You have an angle? Good boy!"

"Yes, sir. Well, it is a wild thought maybe, but last summer when I was
on vacation I met a man up at that new camp and--well, I know it sounds
silly, but he was writing a book."

"Nonsense!"

"Just what I thought, sir. But I read some of it and, I don't know, it
had a sort of a feel about it. Something new, sir, it might catch on."

"All right, all right. That's enough. You're a salesman. You've sold
me."

"On the book?" Ben was surprised.

"Quit pulling an old man's leg, Ben. I'm sold on your needing a
vacation. I'll fill out your vacation pass right now." The Old Man,
still a vigorous, vital figure, turned and walked back to his Desk-sec.
"Yes sir," said the secretarial voice, "got it. Vacation clearance for
Tilman, Ben, any resort."

"And family," said Ben.

"And family. Very good, sir."

The Old Man made his sign on the pass and said heavily, "All right then,
Ben. That's it. Maybe if you go back up to that place for a few days and
see that psycho who was writing a book again, perhaps you'll realize how
impractical it is."

"But sir! I'm serious about that book. It really did have--" he broke
off.

The Old Man was sitting there, face blank, withdrawn. Ben could feel he
wasn't even listening. That damned hearing aid of his. The Old Man had
cut it off. Suddenly, unreasoningly, Ben was furious. He stood by the
huge desk and he reached across toward the hearing aid on the Old Man's
chest to turn up the volume. The Old Man looked up and saw Ben's hand
stretching out.

A sudden look of fear came into his china blue, clear eyes but he made
no move. He sat frozen in his chair.

Ben hesitated a second. "What--?" But he didn't have to ask. He knew.

And he also knew what he was going to do.

"No!" said the Old Man. "No,