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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" />
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Satisfaction Guaranteed, by Joy Leache.
+    </title>
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+
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+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Satisfaction Guaranteed, by Joy Leache
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+Title: Satisfaction Guaranteed
+
+Author: Joy Leache
+
+Release Date: April 10, 2016 [EBook #51727]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SATISFACTION GUARANTEED ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+  <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="385" height="500" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<div class="titlepage">
+<h1>Satisfaction Guaranteed</h1>
+
+<p>By JOY LEACHE</p>
+
+<p>Illustrated by GAUGHAN</p>
+
+<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br />
+Galaxy Magazine December 1961.<br />
+Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br />
+the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p class="ph3"><i>Interstellar trouble-shooting is the<br />
+easiest work there is. All you need is<br />
+brains, energy&mdash;and a steno with nice legs!</i></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p>Andrew Stephens was trying to think of two things at once, and it
+wasn't working out. An inspirational message (delivered by Crumbly,
+president of Planetary Promotions, Inc.) was mixing itself up in his
+mind with the probable difficulties of his first company assignment.</p>
+
+<p>He hoped he was thinking, and not worrying. Crumbly said worry was
+fatal in the promotion business. It was fervor, not fret, Crumbly said,
+that had made Planetary Promotions, Inc., what it was today. And it
+was work, not worry, that would make it what it was destined to be
+tomorrow.</p>
+
+<p>Andy Stephens stared at the farthest corner of his office (about four
+feet from his nose) and sighed. He didn't have a slogan in his body,
+let alone on (or off) the top of his head.</p>
+
+<p>His assignment was an easy one, Crumbly had assured him. Planetary
+Promotions always started new men off with easy ones. Only fair.</p>
+
+<p>Andy squared his narrowish shoulders in as close an imitation of
+Crumbly's desk-side manner as he could, and picked up the dope sheet.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed there was a planet, Felix II, somewhere near the edge of
+nowhere. It wanted to join the Galactic Federation.</p>
+
+<p>A laudable desire, Andy thought, but strictly a political matter,
+having nothing to do with Planetary Promotions, or Andrew Stephens.</p>
+
+<p>However, it also seemed that a planet had to demonstrate that it would
+be contributing something to the Federation before it was allowed to
+join. In other words, Andy thought, you have to have something they
+want, or they won't let you in.</p>
+
+<p>A buzzer squawked out of the dun-colored box on his desk. Andy jumped,
+and flipped the lever.</p>
+
+<p>"The bus to the port will be at the door in seven minutes," the grim
+voice of the Lower Office Co-ordinator told him. "A stenographer will
+meet you on the ship."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Miss Ellis," Andy said meekly. He stuffed the dope sheet
+into his jacket and left the Main Office for Felix II.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>"Excuse me," said a feminine voice. "Are you with Planetary Promotions?"</p>
+
+<p>Andy looked up. A sandy-haired girl with a passable figure and nice
+legs was looking down at him. "Yes," he said. "I'm Andy Stephens."</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked relieved. "I'm Edith Featherpenny from the steno pool,"
+she said. "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find you."</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down," Andy invited.</p>
+
+<p>He moved, and Miss Featherpenny moved. Between them, they unsettled a
+large woman eating an orange. When the juice had been mopped up and the
+woman apologized to, Miss Featherpenny squeezed in beside Andy.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that the information on the case?" She indicated the dope sheet
+crumpled under Andy's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." Andy tried to pull it out. "Were you issued one?" He moved his
+elbow and tried again.</p>
+
+<p>The orange woman glared at him.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny shook her head. "Miss Ellis told me you'd tell me
+everything I needed to know."</p>
+
+<p>Andy felt obscurely flattered. "It doesn't look too promising," he
+admitted.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny glanced at the dope sheet and found a ray of hope.
+"The Federation only requires that the Felician exports are nearly as
+valuable as their imports," she pointed out. "'Nearly' is a nice vague,
+maneuverable word."</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Andy, "if the Felicians can't think of anything to sell,
+how do they expect me to?"</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe they're too isolated to know what's in demand," Miss
+Featherpenny comforted him. "It says they won't authorize ships to
+land on the planet except by invitation."</p>
+
+<p>"It might be isolation, I suppose," Andy doubted. He felt an urge to
+confide in Miss Featherpenny. She did, after all, look as if there
+might be something besides fluff in her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Look," he said. "This is my first assignment, on my fourth job, on my
+second career. I've got to make good. My father is beginning to get
+impatient."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny's eyes grew softer. "Fathers are usually more patient
+than their children think," she encouraged.</p>
+
+<p>"But," Andy added morosely, "I have a brother, a salesman with
+Universal Products. He keeps getting promoted, and I keep getting
+fired. Dad must be conscious of the contrast."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe," Miss Featherpenny suggested, "your brother's been lucky. You
+know, being assigned jobs that were easier than they sound."</p>
+
+<p>Andy glanced at her to see if he was being humored. He decided he
+was not, or not much. "I've tried to believe that," he admitted.
+"Unfortunately, Lloyd keeps proving me wrong. He got his last promotion
+for selling fancy food products to the Mahridgians."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny had obviously never even heard of Mahridge.</p>
+
+<p>"They have a strong taboo against eating," Andy explained. "They
+swallow concentrates to keep alive, but it's still not quite decent. On
+Mahridge, it's the dining room, not the bathroom, that has a door with
+a lock on it for privacy.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he married?" asked Miss Featherpenny, who didn't intend to be a
+steno all her life. "I mean," she added quickly, "his wife would get
+anxious about his selling something like that, that could get him put
+in prison, or killed. How did he do it?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a certain coolness in Andy's voice. "He took a lead from the
+dope peddlers. He converted the adolescent Mahridgians first. It's all
+right to eat on Mahridge now."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny diplomatized. "I don't think that's ethical.
+Convincing people to do what they think is wrong."</p>
+
+<p>Andy was still suspicious. He said, "Ethical or not, he got the
+promotion."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>They stood at the edge of the only launching pad on Felix II, and
+surveyed the landscape. Thirty feet away, there was a barnsized stone
+building with a weedy roof. Aside from some rounded blue hills in the
+distance, and a Felician leaning against the building, there was not
+much to detain the eye.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny giggled softly in surprise. "He looks like a
+leprechaun," she said. "The sheet didn't say that."</p>
+
+<p>"Tourist trade," Andy breathed, his eyes gleaming with the solution of
+his problem.</p>
+
+<p>Since the two-foot-tall welcoming committee showed no signs of moving,
+they started toward him.</p>
+
+<p>"My name," Andy said in Galactic, "is Andrew Stephens. I'm here from
+Planetary Promotions."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," the Felician muttered ungraciously. "I came out from town to
+meet you. My name is Blahrog. Who's this?"</p>
+
+<p>"My steno, Miss Featherpenny."</p>
+
+<p>"Urk." Obviously Blahrog had never heard the term "steno" and
+was interpreting it freely. "I'm in charge of our admission to
+the Federation. That means I'm in charge of you." He eyed Andy
+unenthusiastically. "You haven't had much experience with this kind of
+thing, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>Andy had a wild rush of hope. If the Felician government rejected him
+as a representative, he could go home without a failure on his record,
+and pray for a simpler assignment. Even P. P. didn't consider an agent
+responsible for the unpredictable whims of aliens.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I haven't," he replied cheerfully. "I was hoping maybe you had."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny, who hadn't read the contract, gasped.</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog, who had read the contract, replied, "I haven't. Let's get on
+into town where we can discuss the possibilities in comfort."</p>
+
+<p>They set out, walking unequally through the thick white dust that
+passed for paving on Felix II.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you use ground cars?" Miss Featherpenny choked at the end of the
+first half-mile.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't have technology," Blahrog growled, stumping grimly along. "The
+Everking has a car, but he doesn't use it much. No fuel."</p>
+
+<p>As he walked, Andy composed a speech on the merits of the tourist
+business, to be delivered to the Everking.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny grew visibly more depressed with each mile. She
+uttered an involuntary cry when the guard of the city gate appeared
+with a slender mug in each hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Felician ladies don't drink," Blahrog said gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"I can fetch you a glass of water," the guard offered, without
+enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Miss Featherpenny, with an attempt at sincerity.</p>
+
+<p>The contents of his mug made Andy choke. "Tastes something like
+cider," he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog downed his without a wink. "It's customary to give a guest a
+mug of Throatduster as a sign of gratitude because he walked so far in
+the dust."</p>
+
+<p>"In this dust," Miss Featherpenny murmured to her second glass of
+water, "any distance is far."</p>
+
+<p>"Thoughtful custom," Andy said quickly. "Could you export the beverage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sell Throatduster?" Blahrog was indignant. "It would be a breach of
+hospitality. Besides, Felix II can't produce enough second-rate stuff,
+let alone first-rate. Sometimes, in a bad year, we have to greet guests
+with water."</p>
+
+<p>"What a pity," said Miss Featherpenny.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>She became increasingly unsympathetic as Andy swallowed another
+Throatduster at the door of the Palace (a one-story building similar
+to a small barn), and yet another in the presence of the Everking (an
+eighteen-inch Felician with a beard-warmed paunch).</p>
+
+<p>Andy watched the Everking dim and blur on his wooden throne. Swaying
+slightly, he muttered, "I wonder what proof this stuff is?"</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+  <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="375" height="500" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p>"In short, Mr. Stephens," Blahrog was translating, "we cannot think
+of a single product which we could sell. Have you any immediate
+suggestions?"</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog's expression indicated that he ought to say something, but
+Andy couldn't think of a thing, except that he didn't need any more
+Throatduster. "No," he said firmly, if faintly. "Thank you very much,
+but no." He passed out cold.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid the journey was too much for him," Miss Featherpenny put in.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes," Blahrog translated for the Everking. "Throatduster has that
+effect on some life forms. Perhaps he had better retire, and discuss
+the situation more fully tomorrow."</p>
+
+<p>The Everking motioned to a pair of stout-looking guards (thirty inches
+tall, at least). They towed Miss Featherpenny's immediate superior out
+of the royal presence.</p>
+
+<p>"They will show him to his room," Blahrog explained.</p>
+
+<p>The Everking let loose a quick stream of Felician.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you," Blahrog addressed Miss Featherpenny, "enjoy meeting my
+daughter? The Everking suggests it, since our affairs could hardly be
+of interest to you."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd be very pleased." The words were not empty ones. Edith
+Featherpenny's education in coping with men had not extended to
+Felician males. Blahrog frightened her with a feeling of superior and
+incomprehensible intelligence.</p>
+
+<p>Hrom, although seventeen inches tall and weighing perhaps eleven
+pounds, was definitely feminine and comprehensible.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't women drink Throatduster?" Miss Featherpenny asked, on the
+strength of a two-hour acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>"The men grow the grain here," Hrom explained, "and it's theirs as long
+as it's in the fields. However, we consider harvesting women's work. We
+also make the Throatduster. Then we sell it to the men. We don't drink
+because it is uneconomical."</p>
+
+<p>"Does everyone grow his own grain?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not any more. Town women have other sources of dress money. The custom
+started that way, that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"If you'll forgive my saying so," Miss Featherpenny remarked, "that
+dress you are wearing must have taken a big chunk out of your pocket."</p>
+
+<p>Hrom sighed. "In my mother's time, I would have thought nothing of it.
+Now, one such gown is all I can afford."</p>
+
+<p>"I would have thought your father was one of the wealthier men on Felix
+II," Miss Featherpenny remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"He is <i>the</i> wealthiest," Hrom said. "The richest man is always
+Minister of Finance. It's only reasonable." Her tone changed. "We're
+all poor now, since the tourist industry failed. It took every dnot we
+had to pay for the contract."</p>
+
+<p>Invisible antennae shot from Miss Featherpenny's forehead. "You must
+be quite sure that Planetary Promotions won't fail you." She tried her
+best to sound casual.</p>
+
+<p>Hrom smiled faintly. "Have another of these seed cakes," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you. They are delicious." Miss Featherpenny took one, regardless
+of calories. "Of course, there is the guarantee clause: 'Double your
+money back.'"</p>
+
+<p>Hrom busily fluffed a cushion. "One must have some insurance," she
+said, having her turn at sounding casual. "Tell me, are they wearing
+large or small hats on Earth this season?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny conceded defeat. "It's all bonnets for summer," she
+said.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Her first impulse was to tell Andy that she thought the Felicians
+had bought the guarantee clause, not the contract. It died at her
+first sight of the morning-after Andy. The situation must be pretty
+desperate, she rationalized, when the wealthiest girl on the planet
+has only one dress. This is probably their last chance.</p>
+
+<p>Andy tried to conceal his headache by being brisk and efficient. "Have
+you considered your natural resources?"</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog, slow and shrewdly inefficient, said, "We mine soft coal.
+Enough for our own fires and to spare."</p>
+
+<p>"No one within a hundred light-years of Felix II uses coal for fuel
+anymore," Andy said gently. "Do you have enough for the plastic
+industries?"</p>
+
+<p>"We have four freighters surplus every season." Blahrog was evidently
+banking heavily on the coal.</p>
+
+<p>Andy wondered if coal were the only surplus on Felix II. "What are you
+doing with your surplus at present?" he inquired tactfully, hoping
+that Blahrog would realize, without being told, the impossibility of
+supporting the population of Felix II on four freighters of soft coal.</p>
+
+<p>"We store it up," was the crafty answer, "and sell it to the synthetics
+plants on Darius IV when the Ionian miners go on strike."</p>
+
+<p>"How long since the Ionians struck?" If this economic event occurred
+regularly, the coal surplus could assist in meeting the Federation's
+requirements.</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty seasons or so." Blahrog's tone was off-handed, but his eyes
+slid guiltily toward Andy and away again.</p>
+
+<p>Andy sighed. "Any other resources?"</p>
+
+<p>They went quickly through minerals, agricultural products and animal
+skins; established that Felicians could not teleport, levitate or read
+minds. They were technologically uneducated, and had no industry on the
+factory-system level.</p>
+
+<p>"It is coal or nothing, Mr. Stephens," Blahrog said with finality.
+"Isn't there some way to make the Federation believe that our coal is
+superior to other coal, and worth more?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you, perchance, own a sizable proportion of Felician coal reserves?"</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog nodded, guilty looking again.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, forget it. There isn't enough."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>The Everking, who had been holding Andy's translator to his ear in
+silence, burst into speech.</p>
+
+<p>"His Foreverness says," Blahrog remarked cannily, "that it appears
+impossible for Felix II to join the Federation."</p>
+
+<p>"We aren't through yet," Andy said quickly. "What about the tourist
+industry? If you'd allow visitors and advertise a little...."</p>
+
+<p>"No," the Everking shouted, in Galactic.</p>
+
+<p>"We tried that during the last reign," Blahrog said. "It didn't work."</p>
+
+<p>"You're pretty far off the shipping lanes, I'll admit," Andy said,
+"but surely you could attract enough tourists from somewhere to show a
+profit."</p>
+
+<p>"We showed a profit," Blahrog said morosely.</p>
+
+<p>He translated a remark of the Everking's. "We made money hand over
+fist."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why did you quit?" Andy was baffled. "Why did you restrict the
+planet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because of the way we happen to look."</p>
+
+<p>"Like leprechauns," Miss Featherpenny explained. "And Hrom looks
+exactly like a little Christmas fairy."</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog winced. "The tourists found us amusing. We weren't real to
+them. It became difficult for us to seem real to ourselves. Most of
+my generation couldn't grow up. The birth rate dropped. We closed the
+planet to keep the race alive. That's all there is to it."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely," Andy protested, "if you handled it differently...."</p>
+
+<p>"Tourists," Blahrog translated for the Everking, "are out of the
+question."</p>
+
+<p>"I remember hearing about an intelligent life form that resembled
+teddy bears," Miss Featherpenny said thoughtfully. "Everybody loved
+them on sight."</p>
+
+<p>"What happened to them?" Blahrog asked with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"They became extinct."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Andy glared at her. How could he accomplish anything with a stupid
+steno butting in? She looked away, guilty.</p>
+
+<p>"It's such a simple solution," he said. "It fits your situation
+perfectly."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what we thought, until we tried it," Blahrog said, grinning
+sidelong at Miss Featherpenny.</p>
+
+<p>"If you won't try tourists," Andy snapped at both of them, "I don't see
+exactly what you can do."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe you didn't cover everything in the special abilities list," Miss
+Featherpenny suggested softly.</p>
+
+<p>Andy glared at her again. "All right, Blahrog. Can you think of
+anything you can do that most other species can't?"</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog looked at the floor and considered. "We can walk a long way
+without getting tired," he offered.</p>
+
+<p>Andy sighed, and wrote "Endurance?" on his scratch pad. It was scarcely
+saleable. "Is there anything else? Anything you know how to make?
+Besides Throatduster."</p>
+
+<p>"We make good shoes," Blahrog said hopefully. "The tourists used to buy
+lots of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Hum," Andy cogitated. "Here we have something for which a market
+already exists. If we can expand the market and the production
+facilities...." He nailed Blahrog with a finger, in conscious imitation
+of Crumbly. "How many pairs of shoes can Felix II produce in a single
+season?"</p>
+
+<p>"If the reserves were called in to the Cobbler's Guild, it would be
+almost half the manpower of the planet...." Blahrog paused, doing
+mental arithmetic. "Four and a half million pairs, more or less." He
+sounded as though he were surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"That ought to do it," Andy said gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>"But where will we find that many pairs of feet?" Blahrog asked.</p>
+
+<p>"There are eight million times that many pairs of feet in the
+Federation," Andy said. "Leave the advertising to Planetary Promotions."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems sort of poetic," Miss Featherpenny romanced. "Leprechauns are
+supposed to be cobblers."</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog snorted.</p>
+
+<p>Andy turned and addressed her from the full distance between a promoter
+third class and a girl from the steno pool. "Miss Featherpenny, I will
+ask for your opinion when I want it."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny answered from her side of the gulf. "Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Andy had always despised rank-pullers. He turned to Blahrog "I'll have
+to send the dope back to the Home Office so they can put it through the
+computer and send me the ad-intensity index."</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog looked a polite enquiry.</p>
+
+<p>"That will tell us how effective the ad campaign will have to be to
+make a go of this. What's the fastest way to send a message to Earth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Radiogram the satellite station," Blahrog answered. "They'll relay it
+to the next ship within range, and the ship will relay it to the next
+planet it nears with the radiogram facilities to send it to Earth."</p>
+
+<p>"How long will it take to get an answer?" Andy asked.</p>
+
+<p>"About twelve days."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>They didn't stare at the sky while they waited for the answer.</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog called the members of the Cobbler's Guild together, and
+delivered a series of lectures on their importance to the future of
+Felix II.</p>
+
+<p>Foreseeing a return to political and economic power, the reserve
+members dusted off their lasts and aprons and got back into practice.
+For the first time in nearly thirty seasons, the applications for
+apprenticeship were too numerous to handle. New life showed on their
+faces.</p>
+
+<p>The Master Cobblers (including the Everking and Blahrog) worked around
+the clock, fabricating plastic lasts. Miss Featherpenny and Hrom dug
+pictures and descriptions of the various types of Galactic feet that
+habitually or occasionally wore shoes out of old periodicals, located
+by members of the newly-organized ladies' auxiliary.</p>
+
+<p>Felix II was humming, if not absolutely singing, with industry and
+good humor. Some of it rubbed off on Andy. He relented toward Miss
+Featherpenny to the extent of presenting her with a pair of Felician
+shoes, fabricated by the Everking. They were of the sensible walking
+variety, and not Miss Featherpenny's style. Nevertheless, she was
+extremely pleased with the gift. Like all Felician shoes, they fit her
+perfectly.</p>
+
+<p>The Everking, backed by his Debators and ministers, issued public
+thanks to one Andrew Stephens, restorer of hope, and propagator
+of economic equality. The ladies' auxiliary gave a tea in Miss
+Featherpenny's honor. They were both showered with gifts from a
+grateful and admiring populace.</p>
+
+<p>The reply to the message was signed by Crumbly himself. "Forlorn hope,"
+it said unsympathetically. "Try something else. Computer indicates ad
+intensity of 0.94."</p>
+
+<p>An ad intensity of 0.0001 means you sell someone something he wants
+anyway. An intensity of 1.0 means you have to make the consumer love
+something he thinks he hates.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Andy sent a young Felician on the run for Blahrog, and retired to the
+storeroom of Blahrog's dwelling, which housed two fair-sized plastic
+barrels of Throatduster.</p>
+
+<p>"But you have to try," Blahrog insisted, finishing his second mug of
+hospitality.</p>
+
+<p>"Snow good," Andy said, deep into his fifth. "Even Gray Flannel, ad man
+in legend, only got to 0.87. Simpossible."</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog, who knew little about advertising or computers, repeated,
+"You must try. No member of the Cobbler's Guild has ever quit without
+trying."</p>
+
+<p>Andy had been accepted as an apprentice of the Guild the night before.</p>
+
+<p>"Dunno," he said. "Tell you simpossible."</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog climbed off the barrel of Throatduster. "I'll go get Miss
+Featherpenny," he said. "Perhaps she can help you."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Featherpenny. Bah," Andy snorted. "What good would she be? Dumb
+steno." He tried to be fair. "Nice legs, I admit. But no brains."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go get Miss Featherpenny," Blahrog repeated firmly, closing the
+door behind him....</p>
+
+<p>"What frame of mind is he in?" Miss Featherpenny looked uncertainly at
+the heavy door to Andy's store room.</p>
+
+<p>"Drunk," Blahrog informed her coldly.</p>
+
+<p>It takes an enormous quantity of Throatduster to intoxicate a Felician.
+Intoxication is therefore considered bad form.</p>
+
+<p>"And belligerent," the Minister of Finance added.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear." Miss Featherpenny looked at the door again. "But what can I
+do?" she asked in a helpless voice. "I'm not a promoter."</p>
+
+<p>"He said," Blahrog indicated the door, "that you were a dumb steno."</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" Hrom exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny's hackles invisibly rose. Her mouth visibly
+tightened. She turned away from the door.</p>
+
+<p>Hrom said, "You ought to try to show him."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny looked at them, and at the surrounding examples of
+Felician landscape and architecture.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Blahrog," she said suddenly, "you don't mind looking like a
+leprechaun, do you? As long as you don't have to meet people?"</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog's silence was more than dignified.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" Hrom asked.</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't mind if we used a picture of a Master Cobbler in the ad,
+would you?"</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog thawed abruptly. "You have an idea?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't mind the picture."</p>
+
+<p>"He doesn't mind," Hrom said, adding in Felician, "After all, Papa, we
+don't have to let any ships but the freighters land."</p>
+
+<p>"Go ahead, then," Blahrog consented.</p>
+
+<p>"Good luck," Hrom added.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>"You," Andy welcomed her. "Bah." He shut his eyes. Most of him was
+sprawled out on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, me," Miss Featherpenny agreed, repressing an inclination to kick
+him. She sat down on one of the kegs, and opened her stenographer's
+book. "I came to take down the ad for the shoes," she announced.</p>
+
+<p>"What ad?" Andy moaned. "The newest, biggest, brightest ads can't get
+over an 0.62. How can I manage an 0.94? You're crazy." He opened his
+eyes. "But you do have nice legs."</p>
+
+<p>"Felix II is sort of quaint," Miss Featherpenny suggested. "Why not use
+an old ad?"</p>
+
+<p>"An idea," Andy enunciated, without hope.</p>
+
+<p>"It's sort of pretty too," Miss Featherpenny nudged.</p>
+
+<p>"We could use a color picture of it," Andy said, kicking thoughtfully
+at an overturned stool.</p>
+
+<p>"The Felicians are quaint looking, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," Andy said. "Put a Felician in the foreground, cobbling." He
+tried to sit up.</p>
+
+<p>"I've seen ads like that in history books," Miss Featherpenny said,
+exuding admiration.</p>
+
+<p>"It's so old it's new," Andy said, lying down again. "Old English
+lettering over the top. A real cliche." He considered Miss
+Featherpenny's ankle. "Peaceful scenery, Felician shoes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite," said Miss Featherpenny.</p>
+
+<p>"Quiet field, Felician shoes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nope," said Miss Featherpenny.</p>
+
+<p>"You're an aggravating woman," Andy said sweetly, "but you do have nice
+legs."</p>
+
+<p>"What about Elysian fields?" Miss Featherpenny suggested.</p>
+
+<p>Andy tasted it. "Elysian fields, Felician shoes." He tried to sit up
+again. "You got all that down?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Miss Featherpenny lied. She had it in her head, but not on the
+steno pad.</p>
+
+<p>"Then get somebody to send it off so we can find out if it's good
+enough. And come back soon." He wobbled on his elbow. "You do have...."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'd better attend to sending it personally." Miss Featherpenny
+opened the door. "You rest until you feel better."</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog had gone, but Hrom was waiting for her. She looked more like a
+Christmas fairy than usual. A mischievous one.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you manage?" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"Barely." Miss Featherpenny looked grim.</p>
+
+<p>"Drink this," Hrom ordered, holding out a mug of Throatduster.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny was surprised. "I thought ladies didn't drink on
+Felix II."</p>
+
+<p>"There are," Hrom said, "exceptions."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>The next twelve days of waiting for computer results were not as
+hopefully active as the first twelve. The Felicians finished setting up
+their manufacturing and storing systems, but they didn't start making
+shoes. The cattle drovers forbore to slaughter the beasts who provided
+the leather.</p>
+
+<p>The Everking and his Debators all developed severe cases of
+beard-itch, a Felician nervous disorder. Since it is even more unseemly
+to scratch on Felix II than it is on Earth, they retired temporarily
+from public life.</p>
+
+<p>Andy also retired from public life, biting his fingernails, an Earther
+nervous disorder. Blahrog joined him in the illness, which was new to
+Felicians. By the time the answer from Planetary Promotions came it was
+the most fashionable habit on the planet, in spite of the fact that
+Felicians have extremely tough nails, and a pair of bony ridges rather
+than true teeth.</p>
+
+<p>The second message was also direct from Crumbly. It read: "Computer
+rates ad campaign at intensity 0.942. P. P. in action by the time you
+receive this. Stephens ordered back to Home Office; promoted to first
+class."</p>
+
+<p>Four Earth months later, Miss Featherpenny entered Andy's ten by twelve
+office, her high heels clicking on the plastic tiles, and laid a
+memorandum on the new steel desk.</p>
+
+<p>"They've been admitted," she announced.</p>
+
+<p>"What? Who?" Andy said irritably. There were times when he thought her
+position as his private secretary had gone to her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Felix II has been admitted to the Federation. The contract has been
+fulfilled." She smiled brightly. "Shall I mark the file closed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't yet," Andy said. "Felix II won't be a permanent member of the
+Federation until they've been self-supporting for ten years."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" asked Miss Featherpenny.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a precautionary measure," Andy began to explain. "Oh, let's go
+get some lunch and forget Felix II."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mr. Stephens," Miss Featherpenny said meekly.</p>
+
+<p>He followed her out the door, admiring the effect of her plastic skirt.
+She did have nice legs....</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Three years later, Edith Featherpenny was forced to remember Felix II.
+There was a communication on her mock-baroque desk. Felician shoes
+weren't selling. Felix II wasn't making enough money. The Galactic
+Federation was threatening to take steps.</p>
+
+<p>She glanced at the impressive door to the inner office. Andy, she knew,
+was engaged in reading a letter from his brother Lloyd, who had just
+been promoted to vice-president of Universal Products.</p>
+
+<p>She judiciously forged his initials on an order to put data on the
+Felix II failure through the computer.</p>
+
+<p>In an hour and a half she had the answer. The Felicians hadn't changed
+the styles, and their shoes didn't wear out. Everybody had a pair.</p>
+
+<p>She considered the door again. There was really little sense in
+disturbing Andy over such a simple matter. She forged his name on a
+message to Blahrog. "Change the styles of your shoes."</p>
+
+<p>She then picked up some carefully selected problem sheets from the top
+of the filing cabinet, and went through the impressive door.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, Blahrog's answer was on her desk.</p>
+
+<p>"Felician shoes are of the cut most suited to the feet that wear them.
+To change them would be both foolish and unethical."</p>
+
+<p>It was a good thing, Miss Featherpenny thought, that Andy was feeling
+better today. She went into his office, padding softly over the carpet
+to his contemporary prestwood desk.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Edie," Andy said cheerfully. "What happened? Lightning
+strike you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Practically," Miss Featherpenny said. "It's Felix II again." She
+handed over the sheaf of papers.</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't you tell me about this yesterday?" Andy muttered, reading
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I could handle it." Miss Featherpenny made a face. "Until I
+got that answer this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds like typical Felician thinking," Andy said. "There's no
+sense trying to argue by mail." He sighed. "You'd better reserve a
+first-class passage for me on the first ship out."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't I go?" Miss Featherpenny asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Who'd run the office?"</p>
+
+<p>"The stenos can stack stuff until we get back." Miss Featherpenny
+looked wistful. "I was in on the beginning of it. I want to see it
+through. Besides, I'd like to see Hrom again."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, all right," Andy agreed. "Make it two first class."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Blahrog was waiting on the long porch of the space port dining room.</p>
+
+<p>"Have a nice trip?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"What's all this about not changing the shoe styles?" Andy countered.</p>
+
+<p>"As I told you in the message," Blahrog said impatiently, "We make our
+shoes in the best possible shapes for the feet that will wear them.
+There isn't any good reason to change them."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't sell people two pairs of identical shoes," Andy insisted.</p>
+
+<p>"You might be able to sell them if you changed them," Miss Featherpenny
+added, sounding reasonable.</p>
+
+<p>"Save your arguments for the Everking," Blahrog said. "Come on to the
+car."</p>
+
+<p>"Car?" Miss Featherpenny exclaimed. "The Everking's?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, mine." Blahrog couldn't keep the pride out of his voice. "There
+are nearly two hundred cars on Felix II."</p>
+
+<p>Andy went over the same ground in the presence of the Everking. It
+didn't help. The Everking, his minister and his Debators were solidly
+against changing the shoes. The ethics of the Cobblers' Guild were
+involved.</p>
+
+<p>"If you won't follow Planetary Promotions' advice," he said at last,
+"the company can't be responsible for the outcome." He glared at the
+assembly. "In other words, the guarantee clause is cancelled."</p>
+
+<p>There was an indignant and concerned buzz from the audience. Blahrog
+got up.</p>
+
+<p>"Your Foreverness," he said, "honorable members of the government, Mr.
+Stephens. Three Earth years ago, Felix II gathered together all the
+money the government could find, and bought a contract with Planetary
+Promotions." He paused and shuffled his feet. "We did not expect the
+contract to be fulfilled. We needed money, and two for one would keep
+us going while we attempted to educate the young to be immune to the
+tourists. Of course, if Planetary Promotions found a way for us to be
+self-supporting without tourists, we would be equally pleased."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so," Miss Featherpenny murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"Really," Andy said. "Why didn't you let me in on it?"</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog cleared his throat to indicate that he wasn't through. "Since
+a way was found," he continued, "Felician self respect and content has
+increased along with Felician prosperity." He glanced uneasily at Andy.
+"We would like to continue as we are going."</p>
+
+<p>"Unless you change the styles," Andy said flatly, "that is impossible."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny, realizing that they were starting over the same
+ground, slipped out the door and walked over to visit Hrom.</p>
+
+<p>"So Papa admitted it," Hrom said, after Miss Featherpenny had admired
+the baby, and been shown over the house. "I almost told you myself,
+when I first met you."</p>
+
+<p>"You told me enough to let me guess the rest," Miss Featherpenny said.</p>
+
+<p>"Have some olgan seed cakes," Hrom offered. "Why didn't you tell Mr.
+Stephens?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny took a cake. "Partly because of his almighty
+attitude, and partly because I was on your.... Ow!" She clapped a hand
+hastily to her jaw.</p>
+
+<p>"What's wrong?" Hrom asked, alarmed.</p>
+
+<p>"Broke a tooth," Miss Featherpenny muttered, her face contorted.</p>
+
+<p>"Does it hurt much?" Hrom's question was part sympathy and part
+curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny nodded. "I'll have to find a dentist right away."</p>
+
+<p>"What's a dentist?"</p>
+
+<p>"Man who fixes your teeth."</p>
+
+<p>"But we don't have teeth," Hrom said.</p>
+
+<p>"I forgot," Miss Featherpenny moaned. "Oh, Lord, I guess I'll have to
+go all the way back to Earth."</p>
+
+<p>Hrom shook her head. "There are a lot of Earthers living on Darius IV.
+They must have a dentist. There's a ship every morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Fine," Miss Featherpenny gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Can I get you something for the pain? Would an aspirtran help?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd better have two. Thanks."</p>
+
+<p>"Here. Take the bottle with you." Hrom was frowning worriedly. "My, I'm
+glad we don't have teeth."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have to tell Andy&mdash;Mr. Stephens&mdash;that I'm leaving."</p>
+
+<p>Inspiration dawned on Hrom's face. "I've hardly been out of the house
+since the baby was born. I'll leave him with my husband's mother and go
+with you."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd be glad of the company," Miss Featherpenny admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"Good. I'll find out what time the ship leaves, and tell Mother Klagom
+about the treat she's got coming. You go tell Mr. Stephens and then
+come back here for the night."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny heard them shouting before she opened the council
+chamber door.</p>
+
+<p>"I suggest," Andy was saying, "that you either change the styles or go
+back to the tourist business."</p>
+
+<p>She pushed the door open.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Stephens," Blahrog said mildly, "the last time calamity was upon
+us, you solved the problem by drinking Throatduster until you got an
+idea. May I suggest that you try again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Andy," Miss Featherpenny whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" he snapped.</p>
+
+<p>"I broke a tooth. I'm going over to Darius IV tomorrow, with Hrom, to
+have it fixed."</p>
+
+<p>"Why Darius IV?" Andy demanded. "What's the matter with Felician
+dentists?"</p>
+
+<p>"What's Hrom going to do with boy?" Blahrog demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Hrom's leaving the baby with Mrs. Klagom," Miss Featherpenny answered,
+"and there aren't any Felician dentists."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Klagom is a silly woman," Blahrog disapproved. "She would do
+better to leave him with me."</p>
+
+<p>"If you must, I suppose you must," Andy admitted grudgingly. "Where are
+you going now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Back to Hrom's house to lie down."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell her I'll mind the baby," Blahrog called after her.</p>
+
+<p>As she closed the door, she heard Andy say, "Gentlemen, if you'll
+supply the Throatduster, I'll give it a try."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>"It's awfully quiet," Hrom said doubtfully, looking around at the
+Felician spaceport. "Look at the tannery chimneys. No smoke."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny, her mouth in good repair, glanced into the bar as
+they passed it. "Only two shippers," she said. "There are usually
+dozens."</p>
+
+<p>"They must have stopped production entirely," Hrom said.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe Andy thought of something."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if Papa brought the car down for us."</p>
+
+<p>He hadn't. They walked into town.</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog was in conference with the Everking.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd better wait for him," Miss Featherpenny said. "I want to find out
+what's going on before I talk to Andy."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd better rescue Mother Klagom from the baby."</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog was as long-winded as usual.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Mr. Stephens?" Miss Featherpenny demanded, as soon as she saw
+him coming down the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"In his old storeroom," Blahrog said moodily. "He's quite drunk, I
+believe, but he doesn't seem to be getting any ideas."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why did you stop cobbling?"</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog did a Felician shrug. "We're waiting to see what happens.
+There's no sense making shoes any more if they aren't wanted."</p>
+
+<p>"I have to talk to him," Miss Featherpenny said.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you have an idea?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," Miss Featherpenny lied. "But you'd let him drink himself to
+death, if he didn't think of anything."</p>
+
+<p>"You want a lift in the car?" Blahrog asked, uninsulted.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd be pleased, if you don't mind. I just walked in from the port."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Andy was not, as Blahrog had suggested, very drunk. He was only hung
+over. "Get your tooth fixed?" he asked cheerlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Good dentist?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny nodded. "He had some entirely new equipment.
+Extremely powerful, and quite precise."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh?" Andy straightened in the old arm chair. "I've been trying to
+think. And drinking. Throatduster isn't working this time." He paused
+to reconsider. "Except that it makes me drunk. Everything keeps getting
+fuzzy, and my head is wider than my shoulders."</p>
+
+<p>"The dentist said," Miss Featherpenny persisted, "that he could pull a
+whale's tooth as easily and smoothly as he pulled mine."</p>
+
+<p>"You had to have it pulled? Too bad." Andy made a face at the full mug
+of Throatduster on the barrel beside him. "The Felicians won't change
+their minds about the shoes, and they won't try tourists again. I
+can't think of anything else. And they can claim the guarantee. I was
+bluffing."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," Miss Featherpenny said. She tried again. "The dentist claims
+even the tiniest species could do dental work on the biggest species."
+She paused, hoping it would sink in. "Providing the tiny species had
+sufficient dexterity."</p>
+
+<p>"Blasted Felicians," Andy muttered. "Stubborn little pigs."</p>
+
+<p>"That's part of their trouble, I think," Miss Featherpenny said. "Being
+little, I mean. But it doesn't always work against them. When they're
+doing delicate work...."</p>
+
+<p>"Like those shoes," Andy agreed. "'Best possible shapes already,'" he
+imitated Blahrog.</p>
+
+<p>"They're one of the smallest intelligent species," Miss Featherpenny
+said in desperation. "And their manual dexterity rating is one of the
+highest. Why, a Felician could get both hands inside an Earther's
+mouth."</p>
+
+<p>"And steal his fillings...." Andy started. "Wait a minute. You've given
+me an idea."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Featherpenny breathed relief. "I have? What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dentists! They can all be dentists."</p>
+
+<p>"All?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, enough of them to provide for the planet's income."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that's marvelous," Miss Featherpenny said. "It won't matter that
+other species think they're cute. Everybody takes dentists seriously."</p>
+
+<p>"Their appearance will work for them," Andy said. "Think of children's
+dentistry."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's go tell them right away," Miss Featherpenny said, feeling like a
+Bobbsey twin.</p>
+
+<p>Andy swayed upward.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit still," Miss Featherpenny commanded. "I'll bring you some coffee."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Blahrog accepted the suggestion with Felician phlegm and ministerial
+greed. "We'll have to change the tax system, since most of our working
+population will be living off-planet."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe you could work out a rotation system, Papa." Hrom had sneaked
+into the council chamber.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a minute," Andy said uneasily. "How are you going to educate
+these dentists?"</p>
+
+<p>Blahrog stopped and thought. "We'll use the hotels for schools," he
+said slowly. His face wrinkled with sly pleasure. "And we can sell the
+coal surplus to pay teachers and buy equipment."</p>
+
+<p>The Everking made a wicked-sounding comment in Felician.</p>
+
+<p>The entire assembly burst into loud, beard-wagging laughter. It had a
+nasty ring to it.</p>
+
+<p>"What did he say?" Andy demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"He said," Hrom giggled, "'Let them try to treat us like stuffed toys
+now.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Disgusting," said Miss Featherpenny.</p>
+
+<p>"Indecent, Edie," Andy agreed. "But never mind. Let's go home and get
+married."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a little sudden."</p>
+
+<p>Andy grinned. "I'll have a raise coming for this, and I'd like to keep
+you in the family. I can't seem to think unless you're around."</p>
+
+<p>"Took you long enough to notice," said Miss Featherpenny. But she
+didn't say it out loud.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Satisfaction Guaranteed, by Joy Leache
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,1515 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Satisfaction Guaranteed, by Joy Leache
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+Title: Satisfaction Guaranteed
+
+Author: Joy Leache
+
+Release Date: April 10, 2016 [EBook #51727]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SATISFACTION GUARANTEED ***
+
+
+
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+Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                        Satisfaction Guaranteed
+
+                             By JOY LEACHE
+
+                        Illustrated by GAUGHAN
+
+           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
+                    Galaxy Magazine December 1961.
+         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
+         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+
+
+
+                 Interstellar trouble-shooting is the
+                easiest work there is. All you need is
+              brains, energy--and a steno with nice legs!
+
+
+Andrew Stephens was trying to think of two things at once, and it
+wasn't working out. An inspirational message (delivered by Crumbly,
+president of Planetary Promotions, Inc.) was mixing itself up in his
+mind with the probable difficulties of his first company assignment.
+
+He hoped he was thinking, and not worrying. Crumbly said worry was
+fatal in the promotion business. It was fervor, not fret, Crumbly said,
+that had made Planetary Promotions, Inc., what it was today. And it
+was work, not worry, that would make it what it was destined to be
+tomorrow.
+
+Andy Stephens stared at the farthest corner of his office (about four
+feet from his nose) and sighed. He didn't have a slogan in his body,
+let alone on (or off) the top of his head.
+
+His assignment was an easy one, Crumbly had assured him. Planetary
+Promotions always started new men off with easy ones. Only fair.
+
+Andy squared his narrowish shoulders in as close an imitation of
+Crumbly's desk-side manner as he could, and picked up the dope sheet.
+
+It seemed there was a planet, Felix II, somewhere near the edge of
+nowhere. It wanted to join the Galactic Federation.
+
+A laudable desire, Andy thought, but strictly a political matter,
+having nothing to do with Planetary Promotions, or Andrew Stephens.
+
+However, it also seemed that a planet had to demonstrate that it would
+be contributing something to the Federation before it was allowed to
+join. In other words, Andy thought, you have to have something they
+want, or they won't let you in.
+
+A buzzer squawked out of the dun-colored box on his desk. Andy jumped,
+and flipped the lever.
+
+"The bus to the port will be at the door in seven minutes," the grim
+voice of the Lower Office Co-ordinator told him. "A stenographer will
+meet you on the ship."
+
+"Thank you, Miss Ellis," Andy said meekly. He stuffed the dope sheet
+into his jacket and left the Main Office for Felix II.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Excuse me," said a feminine voice. "Are you with Planetary Promotions?"
+
+Andy looked up. A sandy-haired girl with a passable figure and nice
+legs was looking down at him. "Yes," he said. "I'm Andy Stephens."
+
+The girl looked relieved. "I'm Edith Featherpenny from the steno pool,"
+she said. "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find you."
+
+"Sit down," Andy invited.
+
+He moved, and Miss Featherpenny moved. Between them, they unsettled a
+large woman eating an orange. When the juice had been mopped up and the
+woman apologized to, Miss Featherpenny squeezed in beside Andy.
+
+"Is that the information on the case?" She indicated the dope sheet
+crumpled under Andy's arm.
+
+"Yes." Andy tried to pull it out. "Were you issued one?" He moved his
+elbow and tried again.
+
+The orange woman glared at him.
+
+Miss Featherpenny shook her head. "Miss Ellis told me you'd tell me
+everything I needed to know."
+
+Andy felt obscurely flattered. "It doesn't look too promising," he
+admitted.
+
+Miss Featherpenny glanced at the dope sheet and found a ray of hope.
+"The Federation only requires that the Felician exports are nearly as
+valuable as their imports," she pointed out. "'Nearly' is a nice vague,
+maneuverable word."
+
+"But," said Andy, "if the Felicians can't think of anything to sell,
+how do they expect me to?"
+
+"Maybe they're too isolated to know what's in demand," Miss
+Featherpenny comforted him. "It says they won't authorize ships to
+land on the planet except by invitation."
+
+"It might be isolation, I suppose," Andy doubted. He felt an urge to
+confide in Miss Featherpenny. She did, after all, look as if there
+might be something besides fluff in her head.
+
+"Look," he said. "This is my first assignment, on my fourth job, on my
+second career. I've got to make good. My father is beginning to get
+impatient."
+
+Miss Featherpenny's eyes grew softer. "Fathers are usually more patient
+than their children think," she encouraged.
+
+"But," Andy added morosely, "I have a brother, a salesman with
+Universal Products. He keeps getting promoted, and I keep getting
+fired. Dad must be conscious of the contrast."
+
+"Maybe," Miss Featherpenny suggested, "your brother's been lucky. You
+know, being assigned jobs that were easier than they sound."
+
+Andy glanced at her to see if he was being humored. He decided he
+was not, or not much. "I've tried to believe that," he admitted.
+"Unfortunately, Lloyd keeps proving me wrong. He got his last promotion
+for selling fancy food products to the Mahridgians."
+
+Miss Featherpenny had obviously never even heard of Mahridge.
+
+"They have a strong taboo against eating," Andy explained. "They
+swallow concentrates to keep alive, but it's still not quite decent. On
+Mahridge, it's the dining room, not the bathroom, that has a door with
+a lock on it for privacy.
+
+"Is he married?" asked Miss Featherpenny, who didn't intend to be a
+steno all her life. "I mean," she added quickly, "his wife would get
+anxious about his selling something like that, that could get him put
+in prison, or killed. How did he do it?"
+
+There was a certain coolness in Andy's voice. "He took a lead from the
+dope peddlers. He converted the adolescent Mahridgians first. It's all
+right to eat on Mahridge now."
+
+Miss Featherpenny diplomatized. "I don't think that's ethical.
+Convincing people to do what they think is wrong."
+
+Andy was still suspicious. He said, "Ethical or not, he got the
+promotion."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They stood at the edge of the only launching pad on Felix II, and
+surveyed the landscape. Thirty feet away, there was a barnsized stone
+building with a weedy roof. Aside from some rounded blue hills in the
+distance, and a Felician leaning against the building, there was not
+much to detain the eye.
+
+Miss Featherpenny giggled softly in surprise. "He looks like a
+leprechaun," she said. "The sheet didn't say that."
+
+"Tourist trade," Andy breathed, his eyes gleaming with the solution of
+his problem.
+
+Since the two-foot-tall welcoming committee showed no signs of moving,
+they started toward him.
+
+"My name," Andy said in Galactic, "is Andrew Stephens. I'm here from
+Planetary Promotions."
+
+"I know," the Felician muttered ungraciously. "I came out from town to
+meet you. My name is Blahrog. Who's this?"
+
+"My steno, Miss Featherpenny."
+
+"Urk." Obviously Blahrog had never heard the term "steno" and
+was interpreting it freely. "I'm in charge of our admission to
+the Federation. That means I'm in charge of you." He eyed Andy
+unenthusiastically. "You haven't had much experience with this kind of
+thing, have you?"
+
+Andy had a wild rush of hope. If the Felician government rejected him
+as a representative, he could go home without a failure on his record,
+and pray for a simpler assignment. Even P. P. didn't consider an agent
+responsible for the unpredictable whims of aliens.
+
+"No, I haven't," he replied cheerfully. "I was hoping maybe you had."
+
+Miss Featherpenny, who hadn't read the contract, gasped.
+
+Blahrog, who had read the contract, replied, "I haven't. Let's get on
+into town where we can discuss the possibilities in comfort."
+
+They set out, walking unequally through the thick white dust that
+passed for paving on Felix II.
+
+"Don't you use ground cars?" Miss Featherpenny choked at the end of the
+first half-mile.
+
+"Don't have technology," Blahrog growled, stumping grimly along. "The
+Everking has a car, but he doesn't use it much. No fuel."
+
+As he walked, Andy composed a speech on the merits of the tourist
+business, to be delivered to the Everking.
+
+Miss Featherpenny grew visibly more depressed with each mile. She
+uttered an involuntary cry when the guard of the city gate appeared
+with a slender mug in each hand.
+
+"Felician ladies don't drink," Blahrog said gruffly.
+
+"I can fetch you a glass of water," the guard offered, without
+enthusiasm.
+
+"Thank you," said Miss Featherpenny, with an attempt at sincerity.
+
+The contents of his mug made Andy choke. "Tastes something like
+cider," he gasped.
+
+Blahrog downed his without a wink. "It's customary to give a guest a
+mug of Throatduster as a sign of gratitude because he walked so far in
+the dust."
+
+"In this dust," Miss Featherpenny murmured to her second glass of
+water, "any distance is far."
+
+"Thoughtful custom," Andy said quickly. "Could you export the beverage?"
+
+"Sell Throatduster?" Blahrog was indignant. "It would be a breach of
+hospitality. Besides, Felix II can't produce enough second-rate stuff,
+let alone first-rate. Sometimes, in a bad year, we have to greet guests
+with water."
+
+"What a pity," said Miss Featherpenny.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She became increasingly unsympathetic as Andy swallowed another
+Throatduster at the door of the Palace (a one-story building similar
+to a small barn), and yet another in the presence of the Everking (an
+eighteen-inch Felician with a beard-warmed paunch).
+
+Andy watched the Everking dim and blur on his wooden throne. Swaying
+slightly, he muttered, "I wonder what proof this stuff is?"
+
+"In short, Mr. Stephens," Blahrog was translating, "we cannot think
+of a single product which we could sell. Have you any immediate
+suggestions?"
+
+Blahrog's expression indicated that he ought to say something, but
+Andy couldn't think of a thing, except that he didn't need any more
+Throatduster. "No," he said firmly, if faintly. "Thank you very much,
+but no." He passed out cold.
+
+"I'm afraid the journey was too much for him," Miss Featherpenny put in.
+
+"Ah, yes," Blahrog translated for the Everking. "Throatduster has that
+effect on some life forms. Perhaps he had better retire, and discuss
+the situation more fully tomorrow."
+
+The Everking motioned to a pair of stout-looking guards (thirty inches
+tall, at least). They towed Miss Featherpenny's immediate superior out
+of the royal presence.
+
+"They will show him to his room," Blahrog explained.
+
+The Everking let loose a quick stream of Felician.
+
+"Would you," Blahrog addressed Miss Featherpenny, "enjoy meeting my
+daughter? The Everking suggests it, since our affairs could hardly be
+of interest to you."
+
+"I'd be very pleased." The words were not empty ones. Edith
+Featherpenny's education in coping with men had not extended to
+Felician males. Blahrog frightened her with a feeling of superior and
+incomprehensible intelligence.
+
+Hrom, although seventeen inches tall and weighing perhaps eleven
+pounds, was definitely feminine and comprehensible.
+
+"Why don't women drink Throatduster?" Miss Featherpenny asked, on the
+strength of a two-hour acquaintance.
+
+"The men grow the grain here," Hrom explained, "and it's theirs as long
+as it's in the fields. However, we consider harvesting women's work. We
+also make the Throatduster. Then we sell it to the men. We don't drink
+because it is uneconomical."
+
+"Does everyone grow his own grain?"
+
+"Not any more. Town women have other sources of dress money. The custom
+started that way, that's all."
+
+"If you'll forgive my saying so," Miss Featherpenny remarked, "that
+dress you are wearing must have taken a big chunk out of your pocket."
+
+Hrom sighed. "In my mother's time, I would have thought nothing of it.
+Now, one such gown is all I can afford."
+
+"I would have thought your father was one of the wealthier men on Felix
+II," Miss Featherpenny remarked.
+
+"He is _the_ wealthiest," Hrom said. "The richest man is always
+Minister of Finance. It's only reasonable." Her tone changed. "We're
+all poor now, since the tourist industry failed. It took every dnot we
+had to pay for the contract."
+
+Invisible antennae shot from Miss Featherpenny's forehead. "You must
+be quite sure that Planetary Promotions won't fail you." She tried her
+best to sound casual.
+
+Hrom smiled faintly. "Have another of these seed cakes," she said.
+
+"Thank you. They are delicious." Miss Featherpenny took one, regardless
+of calories. "Of course, there is the guarantee clause: 'Double your
+money back.'"
+
+Hrom busily fluffed a cushion. "One must have some insurance," she
+said, having her turn at sounding casual. "Tell me, are they wearing
+large or small hats on Earth this season?"
+
+Miss Featherpenny conceded defeat. "It's all bonnets for summer," she
+said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Her first impulse was to tell Andy that she thought the Felicians
+had bought the guarantee clause, not the contract. It died at her
+first sight of the morning-after Andy. The situation must be pretty
+desperate, she rationalized, when the wealthiest girl on the planet
+has only one dress. This is probably their last chance.
+
+Andy tried to conceal his headache by being brisk and efficient. "Have
+you considered your natural resources?"
+
+Blahrog, slow and shrewdly inefficient, said, "We mine soft coal.
+Enough for our own fires and to spare."
+
+"No one within a hundred light-years of Felix II uses coal for fuel
+anymore," Andy said gently. "Do you have enough for the plastic
+industries?"
+
+"We have four freighters surplus every season." Blahrog was evidently
+banking heavily on the coal.
+
+Andy wondered if coal were the only surplus on Felix II. "What are you
+doing with your surplus at present?" he inquired tactfully, hoping
+that Blahrog would realize, without being told, the impossibility of
+supporting the population of Felix II on four freighters of soft coal.
+
+"We store it up," was the crafty answer, "and sell it to the synthetics
+plants on Darius IV when the Ionian miners go on strike."
+
+"How long since the Ionians struck?" If this economic event occurred
+regularly, the coal surplus could assist in meeting the Federation's
+requirements.
+
+"Twenty seasons or so." Blahrog's tone was off-handed, but his eyes
+slid guiltily toward Andy and away again.
+
+Andy sighed. "Any other resources?"
+
+They went quickly through minerals, agricultural products and animal
+skins; established that Felicians could not teleport, levitate or read
+minds. They were technologically uneducated, and had no industry on the
+factory-system level.
+
+"It is coal or nothing, Mr. Stephens," Blahrog said with finality.
+"Isn't there some way to make the Federation believe that our coal is
+superior to other coal, and worth more?"
+
+"Do you, perchance, own a sizable proportion of Felician coal reserves?"
+
+Blahrog nodded, guilty looking again.
+
+"Well, forget it. There isn't enough."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Everking, who had been holding Andy's translator to his ear in
+silence, burst into speech.
+
+"His Foreverness says," Blahrog remarked cannily, "that it appears
+impossible for Felix II to join the Federation."
+
+"We aren't through yet," Andy said quickly. "What about the tourist
+industry? If you'd allow visitors and advertise a little...."
+
+"No," the Everking shouted, in Galactic.
+
+"We tried that during the last reign," Blahrog said. "It didn't work."
+
+"You're pretty far off the shipping lanes, I'll admit," Andy said,
+"but surely you could attract enough tourists from somewhere to show a
+profit."
+
+"We showed a profit," Blahrog said morosely.
+
+He translated a remark of the Everking's. "We made money hand over
+fist."
+
+"Then why did you quit?" Andy was baffled. "Why did you restrict the
+planet?"
+
+"Because of the way we happen to look."
+
+"Like leprechauns," Miss Featherpenny explained. "And Hrom looks
+exactly like a little Christmas fairy."
+
+Blahrog winced. "The tourists found us amusing. We weren't real to
+them. It became difficult for us to seem real to ourselves. Most of
+my generation couldn't grow up. The birth rate dropped. We closed the
+planet to keep the race alive. That's all there is to it."
+
+"Surely," Andy protested, "if you handled it differently...."
+
+"Tourists," Blahrog translated for the Everking, "are out of the
+question."
+
+"I remember hearing about an intelligent life form that resembled
+teddy bears," Miss Featherpenny said thoughtfully. "Everybody loved
+them on sight."
+
+"What happened to them?" Blahrog asked with interest.
+
+"They became extinct."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Andy glared at her. How could he accomplish anything with a stupid
+steno butting in? She looked away, guilty.
+
+"It's such a simple solution," he said. "It fits your situation
+perfectly."
+
+"That's what we thought, until we tried it," Blahrog said, grinning
+sidelong at Miss Featherpenny.
+
+"If you won't try tourists," Andy snapped at both of them, "I don't see
+exactly what you can do."
+
+"Maybe you didn't cover everything in the special abilities list," Miss
+Featherpenny suggested softly.
+
+Andy glared at her again. "All right, Blahrog. Can you think of
+anything you can do that most other species can't?"
+
+Blahrog looked at the floor and considered. "We can walk a long way
+without getting tired," he offered.
+
+Andy sighed, and wrote "Endurance?" on his scratch pad. It was scarcely
+saleable. "Is there anything else? Anything you know how to make?
+Besides Throatduster."
+
+"We make good shoes," Blahrog said hopefully. "The tourists used to buy
+lots of them."
+
+"Hum," Andy cogitated. "Here we have something for which a market
+already exists. If we can expand the market and the production
+facilities...." He nailed Blahrog with a finger, in conscious imitation
+of Crumbly. "How many pairs of shoes can Felix II produce in a single
+season?"
+
+"If the reserves were called in to the Cobbler's Guild, it would be
+almost half the manpower of the planet...." Blahrog paused, doing
+mental arithmetic. "Four and a half million pairs, more or less." He
+sounded as though he were surprised.
+
+"That ought to do it," Andy said gleefully.
+
+"But where will we find that many pairs of feet?" Blahrog asked.
+
+"There are eight million times that many pairs of feet in the
+Federation," Andy said. "Leave the advertising to Planetary Promotions."
+
+"It seems sort of poetic," Miss Featherpenny romanced. "Leprechauns are
+supposed to be cobblers."
+
+Blahrog snorted.
+
+Andy turned and addressed her from the full distance between a promoter
+third class and a girl from the steno pool. "Miss Featherpenny, I will
+ask for your opinion when I want it."
+
+Miss Featherpenny answered from her side of the gulf. "Yes, sir."
+
+Andy had always despised rank-pullers. He turned to Blahrog "I'll have
+to send the dope back to the Home Office so they can put it through the
+computer and send me the ad-intensity index."
+
+Blahrog looked a polite enquiry.
+
+"That will tell us how effective the ad campaign will have to be to
+make a go of this. What's the fastest way to send a message to Earth?"
+
+"Radiogram the satellite station," Blahrog answered. "They'll relay it
+to the next ship within range, and the ship will relay it to the next
+planet it nears with the radiogram facilities to send it to Earth."
+
+"How long will it take to get an answer?" Andy asked.
+
+"About twelve days."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They didn't stare at the sky while they waited for the answer.
+
+Blahrog called the members of the Cobbler's Guild together, and
+delivered a series of lectures on their importance to the future of
+Felix II.
+
+Foreseeing a return to political and economic power, the reserve
+members dusted off their lasts and aprons and got back into practice.
+For the first time in nearly thirty seasons, the applications for
+apprenticeship were too numerous to handle. New life showed on their
+faces.
+
+The Master Cobblers (including the Everking and Blahrog) worked around
+the clock, fabricating plastic lasts. Miss Featherpenny and Hrom dug
+pictures and descriptions of the various types of Galactic feet that
+habitually or occasionally wore shoes out of old periodicals, located
+by members of the newly-organized ladies' auxiliary.
+
+Felix II was humming, if not absolutely singing, with industry and
+good humor. Some of it rubbed off on Andy. He relented toward Miss
+Featherpenny to the extent of presenting her with a pair of Felician
+shoes, fabricated by the Everking. They were of the sensible walking
+variety, and not Miss Featherpenny's style. Nevertheless, she was
+extremely pleased with the gift. Like all Felician shoes, they fit her
+perfectly.
+
+The Everking, backed by his Debators and ministers, issued public
+thanks to one Andrew Stephens, restorer of hope, and propagator
+of economic equality. The ladies' auxiliary gave a tea in Miss
+Featherpenny's honor. They were both showered with gifts from a
+grateful and admiring populace.
+
+The reply to the message was signed by Crumbly himself. "Forlorn hope,"
+it said unsympathetically. "Try something else. Computer indicates ad
+intensity of 0.94."
+
+An ad intensity of 0.0001 means you sell someone something he wants
+anyway. An intensity of 1.0 means you have to make the consumer love
+something he thinks he hates.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Andy sent a young Felician on the run for Blahrog, and retired to the
+storeroom of Blahrog's dwelling, which housed two fair-sized plastic
+barrels of Throatduster.
+
+"But you have to try," Blahrog insisted, finishing his second mug of
+hospitality.
+
+"Snow good," Andy said, deep into his fifth. "Even Gray Flannel, ad man
+in legend, only got to 0.87. Simpossible."
+
+Blahrog, who knew little about advertising or computers, repeated,
+"You must try. No member of the Cobbler's Guild has ever quit without
+trying."
+
+Andy had been accepted as an apprentice of the Guild the night before.
+
+"Dunno," he said. "Tell you simpossible."
+
+Blahrog climbed off the barrel of Throatduster. "I'll go get Miss
+Featherpenny," he said. "Perhaps she can help you."
+
+"Miss Featherpenny. Bah," Andy snorted. "What good would she be? Dumb
+steno." He tried to be fair. "Nice legs, I admit. But no brains."
+
+"I'll go get Miss Featherpenny," Blahrog repeated firmly, closing the
+door behind him....
+
+"What frame of mind is he in?" Miss Featherpenny looked uncertainly at
+the heavy door to Andy's store room.
+
+"Drunk," Blahrog informed her coldly.
+
+It takes an enormous quantity of Throatduster to intoxicate a Felician.
+Intoxication is therefore considered bad form.
+
+"And belligerent," the Minister of Finance added.
+
+"Oh, dear." Miss Featherpenny looked at the door again. "But what can I
+do?" she asked in a helpless voice. "I'm not a promoter."
+
+"He said," Blahrog indicated the door, "that you were a dumb steno."
+
+"Well!" Hrom exclaimed.
+
+Miss Featherpenny's hackles invisibly rose. Her mouth visibly
+tightened. She turned away from the door.
+
+Hrom said, "You ought to try to show him."
+
+Miss Featherpenny looked at them, and at the surrounding examples of
+Felician landscape and architecture.
+
+"Mr. Blahrog," she said suddenly, "you don't mind looking like a
+leprechaun, do you? As long as you don't have to meet people?"
+
+Blahrog's silence was more than dignified.
+
+"What do you mean?" Hrom asked.
+
+"You wouldn't mind if we used a picture of a Master Cobbler in the ad,
+would you?"
+
+Blahrog thawed abruptly. "You have an idea?"
+
+"If you don't mind the picture."
+
+"He doesn't mind," Hrom said, adding in Felician, "After all, Papa, we
+don't have to let any ships but the freighters land."
+
+"Go ahead, then," Blahrog consented.
+
+"Good luck," Hrom added.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"You," Andy welcomed her. "Bah." He shut his eyes. Most of him was
+sprawled out on the floor.
+
+"Yes, me," Miss Featherpenny agreed, repressing an inclination to kick
+him. She sat down on one of the kegs, and opened her stenographer's
+book. "I came to take down the ad for the shoes," she announced.
+
+"What ad?" Andy moaned. "The newest, biggest, brightest ads can't get
+over an 0.62. How can I manage an 0.94? You're crazy." He opened his
+eyes. "But you do have nice legs."
+
+"Felix II is sort of quaint," Miss Featherpenny suggested. "Why not use
+an old ad?"
+
+"An idea," Andy enunciated, without hope.
+
+"It's sort of pretty too," Miss Featherpenny nudged.
+
+"We could use a color picture of it," Andy said, kicking thoughtfully
+at an overturned stool.
+
+"The Felicians are quaint looking, too."
+
+"Sure," Andy said. "Put a Felician in the foreground, cobbling." He
+tried to sit up.
+
+"I've seen ads like that in history books," Miss Featherpenny said,
+exuding admiration.
+
+"It's so old it's new," Andy said, lying down again. "Old English
+lettering over the top. A real cliche." He considered Miss
+Featherpenny's ankle. "Peaceful scenery, Felician shoes?"
+
+"Not quite," said Miss Featherpenny.
+
+"Quiet field, Felician shoes?"
+
+"Nope," said Miss Featherpenny.
+
+"You're an aggravating woman," Andy said sweetly, "but you do have nice
+legs."
+
+"What about Elysian fields?" Miss Featherpenny suggested.
+
+Andy tasted it. "Elysian fields, Felician shoes." He tried to sit up
+again. "You got all that down?" he demanded.
+
+"Yes," Miss Featherpenny lied. She had it in her head, but not on the
+steno pad.
+
+"Then get somebody to send it off so we can find out if it's good
+enough. And come back soon." He wobbled on his elbow. "You do have...."
+
+"I think I'd better attend to sending it personally." Miss Featherpenny
+opened the door. "You rest until you feel better."
+
+Blahrog had gone, but Hrom was waiting for her. She looked more like a
+Christmas fairy than usual. A mischievous one.
+
+"Did you manage?" she whispered.
+
+"Barely." Miss Featherpenny looked grim.
+
+"Drink this," Hrom ordered, holding out a mug of Throatduster.
+
+Miss Featherpenny was surprised. "I thought ladies didn't drink on
+Felix II."
+
+"There are," Hrom said, "exceptions."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next twelve days of waiting for computer results were not as
+hopefully active as the first twelve. The Felicians finished setting up
+their manufacturing and storing systems, but they didn't start making
+shoes. The cattle drovers forbore to slaughter the beasts who provided
+the leather.
+
+The Everking and his Debators all developed severe cases of
+beard-itch, a Felician nervous disorder. Since it is even more unseemly
+to scratch on Felix II than it is on Earth, they retired temporarily
+from public life.
+
+Andy also retired from public life, biting his fingernails, an Earther
+nervous disorder. Blahrog joined him in the illness, which was new to
+Felicians. By the time the answer from Planetary Promotions came it was
+the most fashionable habit on the planet, in spite of the fact that
+Felicians have extremely tough nails, and a pair of bony ridges rather
+than true teeth.
+
+The second message was also direct from Crumbly. It read: "Computer
+rates ad campaign at intensity 0.942. P. P. in action by the time you
+receive this. Stephens ordered back to Home Office; promoted to first
+class."
+
+Four Earth months later, Miss Featherpenny entered Andy's ten by twelve
+office, her high heels clicking on the plastic tiles, and laid a
+memorandum on the new steel desk.
+
+"They've been admitted," she announced.
+
+"What? Who?" Andy said irritably. There were times when he thought her
+position as his private secretary had gone to her head.
+
+"Felix II has been admitted to the Federation. The contract has been
+fulfilled." She smiled brightly. "Shall I mark the file closed?"
+
+"Can't yet," Andy said. "Felix II won't be a permanent member of the
+Federation until they've been self-supporting for ten years."
+
+"Why?" asked Miss Featherpenny.
+
+"It's a precautionary measure," Andy began to explain. "Oh, let's go
+get some lunch and forget Felix II."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Stephens," Miss Featherpenny said meekly.
+
+He followed her out the door, admiring the effect of her plastic skirt.
+She did have nice legs....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three years later, Edith Featherpenny was forced to remember Felix II.
+There was a communication on her mock-baroque desk. Felician shoes
+weren't selling. Felix II wasn't making enough money. The Galactic
+Federation was threatening to take steps.
+
+She glanced at the impressive door to the inner office. Andy, she knew,
+was engaged in reading a letter from his brother Lloyd, who had just
+been promoted to vice-president of Universal Products.
+
+She judiciously forged his initials on an order to put data on the
+Felix II failure through the computer.
+
+In an hour and a half she had the answer. The Felicians hadn't changed
+the styles, and their shoes didn't wear out. Everybody had a pair.
+
+She considered the door again. There was really little sense in
+disturbing Andy over such a simple matter. She forged his name on a
+message to Blahrog. "Change the styles of your shoes."
+
+She then picked up some carefully selected problem sheets from the top
+of the filing cabinet, and went through the impressive door.
+
+The next morning, Blahrog's answer was on her desk.
+
+"Felician shoes are of the cut most suited to the feet that wear them.
+To change them would be both foolish and unethical."
+
+It was a good thing, Miss Featherpenny thought, that Andy was feeling
+better today. She went into his office, padding softly over the carpet
+to his contemporary prestwood desk.
+
+"Good morning, Edie," Andy said cheerfully. "What happened? Lightning
+strike you?"
+
+"Practically," Miss Featherpenny said. "It's Felix II again." She
+handed over the sheaf of papers.
+
+"Why didn't you tell me about this yesterday?" Andy muttered, reading
+them.
+
+"I thought I could handle it." Miss Featherpenny made a face. "Until I
+got that answer this morning."
+
+"It sounds like typical Felician thinking," Andy said. "There's no
+sense trying to argue by mail." He sighed. "You'd better reserve a
+first-class passage for me on the first ship out."
+
+"Can't I go?" Miss Featherpenny asked.
+
+"Who'd run the office?"
+
+"The stenos can stack stuff until we get back." Miss Featherpenny
+looked wistful. "I was in on the beginning of it. I want to see it
+through. Besides, I'd like to see Hrom again."
+
+"Oh, all right," Andy agreed. "Make it two first class."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Blahrog was waiting on the long porch of the space port dining room.
+
+"Have a nice trip?" he asked.
+
+"What's all this about not changing the shoe styles?" Andy countered.
+
+"As I told you in the message," Blahrog said impatiently, "We make our
+shoes in the best possible shapes for the feet that will wear them.
+There isn't any good reason to change them."
+
+"You can't sell people two pairs of identical shoes," Andy insisted.
+
+"You might be able to sell them if you changed them," Miss Featherpenny
+added, sounding reasonable.
+
+"Save your arguments for the Everking," Blahrog said. "Come on to the
+car."
+
+"Car?" Miss Featherpenny exclaimed. "The Everking's?"
+
+"No, mine." Blahrog couldn't keep the pride out of his voice. "There
+are nearly two hundred cars on Felix II."
+
+Andy went over the same ground in the presence of the Everking. It
+didn't help. The Everking, his minister and his Debators were solidly
+against changing the shoes. The ethics of the Cobblers' Guild were
+involved.
+
+"If you won't follow Planetary Promotions' advice," he said at last,
+"the company can't be responsible for the outcome." He glared at the
+assembly. "In other words, the guarantee clause is cancelled."
+
+There was an indignant and concerned buzz from the audience. Blahrog
+got up.
+
+"Your Foreverness," he said, "honorable members of the government, Mr.
+Stephens. Three Earth years ago, Felix II gathered together all the
+money the government could find, and bought a contract with Planetary
+Promotions." He paused and shuffled his feet. "We did not expect the
+contract to be fulfilled. We needed money, and two for one would keep
+us going while we attempted to educate the young to be immune to the
+tourists. Of course, if Planetary Promotions found a way for us to be
+self-supporting without tourists, we would be equally pleased."
+
+"I thought so," Miss Featherpenny murmured.
+
+"Really," Andy said. "Why didn't you let me in on it?"
+
+Blahrog cleared his throat to indicate that he wasn't through. "Since
+a way was found," he continued, "Felician self respect and content has
+increased along with Felician prosperity." He glanced uneasily at Andy.
+"We would like to continue as we are going."
+
+"Unless you change the styles," Andy said flatly, "that is impossible."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Miss Featherpenny, realizing that they were starting over the same
+ground, slipped out the door and walked over to visit Hrom.
+
+"So Papa admitted it," Hrom said, after Miss Featherpenny had admired
+the baby, and been shown over the house. "I almost told you myself,
+when I first met you."
+
+"You told me enough to let me guess the rest," Miss Featherpenny said.
+
+"Have some olgan seed cakes," Hrom offered. "Why didn't you tell Mr.
+Stephens?"
+
+Miss Featherpenny took a cake. "Partly because of his almighty
+attitude, and partly because I was on your.... Ow!" She clapped a hand
+hastily to her jaw.
+
+"What's wrong?" Hrom asked, alarmed.
+
+"Broke a tooth," Miss Featherpenny muttered, her face contorted.
+
+"Does it hurt much?" Hrom's question was part sympathy and part
+curiosity.
+
+Miss Featherpenny nodded. "I'll have to find a dentist right away."
+
+"What's a dentist?"
+
+"Man who fixes your teeth."
+
+"But we don't have teeth," Hrom said.
+
+"I forgot," Miss Featherpenny moaned. "Oh, Lord, I guess I'll have to
+go all the way back to Earth."
+
+Hrom shook her head. "There are a lot of Earthers living on Darius IV.
+They must have a dentist. There's a ship every morning."
+
+"Fine," Miss Featherpenny gasped.
+
+"Can I get you something for the pain? Would an aspirtran help?"
+
+"I'd better have two. Thanks."
+
+"Here. Take the bottle with you." Hrom was frowning worriedly. "My, I'm
+glad we don't have teeth."
+
+"I'll have to tell Andy--Mr. Stephens--that I'm leaving."
+
+Inspiration dawned on Hrom's face. "I've hardly been out of the house
+since the baby was born. I'll leave him with my husband's mother and go
+with you."
+
+"I'd be glad of the company," Miss Featherpenny admitted.
+
+"Good. I'll find out what time the ship leaves, and tell Mother Klagom
+about the treat she's got coming. You go tell Mr. Stephens and then
+come back here for the night."
+
+Miss Featherpenny heard them shouting before she opened the council
+chamber door.
+
+"I suggest," Andy was saying, "that you either change the styles or go
+back to the tourist business."
+
+She pushed the door open.
+
+"Mr. Stephens," Blahrog said mildly, "the last time calamity was upon
+us, you solved the problem by drinking Throatduster until you got an
+idea. May I suggest that you try again?"
+
+"Andy," Miss Featherpenny whispered.
+
+"Well?" he snapped.
+
+"I broke a tooth. I'm going over to Darius IV tomorrow, with Hrom, to
+have it fixed."
+
+"Why Darius IV?" Andy demanded. "What's the matter with Felician
+dentists?"
+
+"What's Hrom going to do with boy?" Blahrog demanded.
+
+"Hrom's leaving the baby with Mrs. Klagom," Miss Featherpenny answered,
+"and there aren't any Felician dentists."
+
+"Mrs. Klagom is a silly woman," Blahrog disapproved. "She would do
+better to leave him with me."
+
+"If you must, I suppose you must," Andy admitted grudgingly. "Where are
+you going now?"
+
+"Back to Hrom's house to lie down."
+
+"Tell her I'll mind the baby," Blahrog called after her.
+
+As she closed the door, she heard Andy say, "Gentlemen, if you'll
+supply the Throatduster, I'll give it a try."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"It's awfully quiet," Hrom said doubtfully, looking around at the
+Felician spaceport. "Look at the tannery chimneys. No smoke."
+
+Miss Featherpenny, her mouth in good repair, glanced into the bar as
+they passed it. "Only two shippers," she said. "There are usually
+dozens."
+
+"They must have stopped production entirely," Hrom said.
+
+"Maybe Andy thought of something."
+
+"I wonder if Papa brought the car down for us."
+
+He hadn't. They walked into town.
+
+Blahrog was in conference with the Everking.
+
+"I'd better wait for him," Miss Featherpenny said. "I want to find out
+what's going on before I talk to Andy."
+
+"I'd better rescue Mother Klagom from the baby."
+
+Blahrog was as long-winded as usual.
+
+"Where is Mr. Stephens?" Miss Featherpenny demanded, as soon as she saw
+him coming down the hall.
+
+"In his old storeroom," Blahrog said moodily. "He's quite drunk, I
+believe, but he doesn't seem to be getting any ideas."
+
+"Then why did you stop cobbling?"
+
+Blahrog did a Felician shrug. "We're waiting to see what happens.
+There's no sense making shoes any more if they aren't wanted."
+
+"I have to talk to him," Miss Featherpenny said.
+
+"Do you have an idea?"
+
+"No," Miss Featherpenny lied. "But you'd let him drink himself to
+death, if he didn't think of anything."
+
+"You want a lift in the car?" Blahrog asked, uninsulted.
+
+"I'd be pleased, if you don't mind. I just walked in from the port."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Andy was not, as Blahrog had suggested, very drunk. He was only hung
+over. "Get your tooth fixed?" he asked cheerlessly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Good dentist?"
+
+Miss Featherpenny nodded. "He had some entirely new equipment.
+Extremely powerful, and quite precise."
+
+"Oh?" Andy straightened in the old arm chair. "I've been trying to
+think. And drinking. Throatduster isn't working this time." He paused
+to reconsider. "Except that it makes me drunk. Everything keeps getting
+fuzzy, and my head is wider than my shoulders."
+
+"The dentist said," Miss Featherpenny persisted, "that he could pull a
+whale's tooth as easily and smoothly as he pulled mine."
+
+"You had to have it pulled? Too bad." Andy made a face at the full mug
+of Throatduster on the barrel beside him. "The Felicians won't change
+their minds about the shoes, and they won't try tourists again. I
+can't think of anything else. And they can claim the guarantee. I was
+bluffing."
+
+"I know," Miss Featherpenny said. She tried again. "The dentist claims
+even the tiniest species could do dental work on the biggest species."
+She paused, hoping it would sink in. "Providing the tiny species had
+sufficient dexterity."
+
+"Blasted Felicians," Andy muttered. "Stubborn little pigs."
+
+"That's part of their trouble, I think," Miss Featherpenny said. "Being
+little, I mean. But it doesn't always work against them. When they're
+doing delicate work...."
+
+"Like those shoes," Andy agreed. "'Best possible shapes already,'" he
+imitated Blahrog.
+
+"They're one of the smallest intelligent species," Miss Featherpenny
+said in desperation. "And their manual dexterity rating is one of the
+highest. Why, a Felician could get both hands inside an Earther's
+mouth."
+
+"And steal his fillings...." Andy started. "Wait a minute. You've given
+me an idea."
+
+Miss Featherpenny breathed relief. "I have? What is it?"
+
+"Dentists! They can all be dentists."
+
+"All?"
+
+"Well, enough of them to provide for the planet's income."
+
+"Why, that's marvelous," Miss Featherpenny said. "It won't matter that
+other species think they're cute. Everybody takes dentists seriously."
+
+"Their appearance will work for them," Andy said. "Think of children's
+dentistry."
+
+"Let's go tell them right away," Miss Featherpenny said, feeling like a
+Bobbsey twin.
+
+Andy swayed upward.
+
+"Sit still," Miss Featherpenny commanded. "I'll bring you some coffee."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Blahrog accepted the suggestion with Felician phlegm and ministerial
+greed. "We'll have to change the tax system, since most of our working
+population will be living off-planet."
+
+"Maybe you could work out a rotation system, Papa." Hrom had sneaked
+into the council chamber.
+
+"Wait a minute," Andy said uneasily. "How are you going to educate
+these dentists?"
+
+Blahrog stopped and thought. "We'll use the hotels for schools," he
+said slowly. His face wrinkled with sly pleasure. "And we can sell the
+coal surplus to pay teachers and buy equipment."
+
+The Everking made a wicked-sounding comment in Felician.
+
+The entire assembly burst into loud, beard-wagging laughter. It had a
+nasty ring to it.
+
+"What did he say?" Andy demanded.
+
+"He said," Hrom giggled, "'Let them try to treat us like stuffed toys
+now.'"
+
+"Disgusting," said Miss Featherpenny.
+
+"Indecent, Edie," Andy agreed. "But never mind. Let's go home and get
+married."
+
+"You're a little sudden."
+
+Andy grinned. "I'll have a raise coming for this, and I'd like to keep
+you in the family. I can't seem to think unless you're around."
+
+"Took you long enough to notice," said Miss Featherpenny. But she
+didn't say it out loud.
+
+
+
+
+
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