below and
dust whooshed out sideways.

"Spectacular!" Fay summed up. "Knew you'd enjoy it. That little trick
was first conceived by the great Tesla during his last fruity years.
Research discovered it in his biog--we just made the dream come true.
A tiny resonance device you could carry in your belt-bag attunes
itself to the natural harmonic of a structure and then increases
amplitude by tiny pushes exactly in time. Just like soldiers marching
in step can break down a bridge, only this is as if it were being done
by one marching ant." He pointed at the naked framework appearing out
of its own blur and said, "We'll be able to hang the factory on that.
If not, we'll whip a mega-current through it and vaporize it. No
question the micro-resonator is the neatest sweetest wrecking device
going. You can expect a lot more of this sort of efficiency now that
mankind has the tickler to enable him to use his full potential.
What's the matter, folks?"

Daisy was staring around the violet-walled room with dumb mistrust.
Her hands were trembling.

"You don't have to worry," Fay assured her with an understanding
laugh. "This building's safe for a month more at least." Suddenly he
grimaced and leaped a foot in the air. He raised a clawed hand to
scratch his shoulder but managed to check the movement. "Got to beat
it, folks," he announced tersely. "My tickler gave me the grand
cootch."

"Don't go yet," Gusterson called, rousing himself with a shudder which
he immediately explained: "I just had the illusion that if I shook
myself all my flesh and guts would fall off my shimmying skeleton,
Brr! Fay, before you and Micro go off half cocked, I want you to know
there's one insuperable objection to the tickler as a mass-market
item. The average man or woman won't go to the considerable time and
trouble it must take to load a tickler. He simply hasn't got the
compulsive orderliness and willingness to plan that it requires."

"We thought of that weeks ago," Fay rapped, his hand on the door.
"Every tickler spool that goes to market is patterned like wallpaper
with one of five designs of suitable subliminal supportive euphoric
material. 'Ittier and ittier,' 'viriler and viriler'--you know. The
buyer is robot-interviewed for an hour, his personalized daily routine
laid out and thereafter templated on his weekly spool. He's strongly
urged next to take his tickler to his doctor and psycher for further
instruction-imposition. We've been worki