r ago I
forgot to tune in on the only TV program I've wanted to hear this
year--_Finnegans Wake_ scored for English, Gaelic and brogue. Oh,
damn-_damn_-DAMN!"

"Too bad," Fay said lightly. "I didn't know they were releasing it on
flat TV too."

* * * * *

"Well, they were! Some things are too damn big to keep completely
underground. And I had to forget! I'm always doing it--I miss
everything! Look here, you rat," he blatted suddenly at Fay, shaking
his finger under the latter's chin, "I'll tell you what you can have
that ignorant team of yours invent. They can fix me up a mechanical
secretary that I can feed orders into and that'll remind me when the
exact moment comes to listen to TV or phone somebody or mail in a
story or write a letter or pick up a magazine or look at an eclipse or
a new orbiting station or fetch the kids from school or buy Daisy a
bunch of flowers or whatever it is. It's got to be something that's
always with me, not something I have to go and consult or that I can
get sick of and put down somewhere. And it's got to remind me forcibly
enough so that I take notice and don't just shrug it aside, like I
sometimes do even when Daisy reminds me of things. That's what your
stupid team can invent for me! If they do a good job, I'll pay 'em as
much as fifty dollars!"

"That doesn't sound like anything so very original to me," Fay
commented coolly, leaning back from the wagging finger. "I think all
senior executives have something of that sort. At least, their
secretary keeps some kind of file...."

"I'm not looking for something with spiked falsies and nylons up to
the neck," interjected Gusterson, whose ideas about secretaries were a
trifle lurid. "I just want a mech reminder--that's all!"

"Well, I'll keep the idea in mind," Fay assured him, "along with the
bubble homes and beauty masks. If we ever develop anything along those
lines, I'll let you know. If it's a beauty mask, I'll bring Daisy a
pilot model--to use to scare strange kids." He put his watch to his
ear. "Good lord, I'm going to have to cut to make it underground
before the main doors close. Just ten minutes to Second Curfew! 'By,
Gus. 'By, Daze."

Two minutes later, living room lights out, they watched Fay's
foreshortened antlike figure scurrying across the balding ill-lit park
toward the nearest escalator.

Gusterson said, "Weird to think of that big bright space-poor glamor
basement stretching aroun