enate?"

"I doubt it," Claire said. "He may have heard of it, the way you've
heard about an election in Pakistan or Abyssinia, or he just may not
know there is such a thing as politics. I think he does know there's a
world outside the store, but he doesn't care much what goes on in it."
She pushed her plate aside, poured a cup of coffee, and levered a
cigarette from the Readilit, puffing at it with the relish of the
morning's first smoke. "All he knows is that we're holding our sale
three days ahead of Macy & Gimbel's."

"Russ is a good businessman," Pelton said seriously. "I wish you'd
take a little more interest in him, Claire."

"If you mean what I think you do, no thanks," Claire replied. "I
suppose I'll get married, some day--most girls do--but it'll be to
somebody who can hang his business up at the office before he comes
home. Russ Latterman is so married to the store that if he married me
too, it'd be bigamy. Ready for your coffee?" Without waiting for an
answer, she filled his cup and ejected a lighted cigarette from the
box for him, then snapped on the video screen.

It lit at once, and a nondescriptly handsome young man was grinning
toothily out of it. He wore a white smock, halfway to his knees, and,
over it, an old-fashioned Sam Browne belt which supported a bulky
leather-covered tablet and a large stylus. On the strap which crossed
his breast five or six little metal badges twinkled.

"... Why no other beer can compare with delicious, tangy, Cardon's
Black Bottle. Won't you try it?" he pleaded. "Then you will see for
yourself why millions of happy drinkers always Call For Cardon's. And
now, that other favorite of millions, Literate First Class Elliot C.
Mongery."

Pelton muttered: "Why Frank sponsors that blabbermouth of a Mongery--"

Ray, sliding back onto the bench, returned to his food.

"Jimmy's book had pictures," he complained, forking up another mixture
of eggs, bacon, toast and honey.

"Book?" Claire echoed. "Oh, the instructions for the 'copter?"

"Pipe down, both of you!" Pelton commanded. "The newscast--"

Literate First Class Elliot C. Mongery, revealed by a quick left
quarter-turn of the pickup camera, wore the same starchy white smock,
the same Sam Browne belt glittering with the badges of the
organizations and corporations for whom he was authorized to practice
Literacy. The tablet on his belt, Pelton knew, was really a
camouflaged holster for a small automatic, and the gold sty