certainly didn’t want to show it. Mitzi put out a hand to stop me. She looked at me with that special, birdlike interest in her bright eyes, and then nodded.
“Val,” she said, “we can finish this up later. Tenny? I think they might be ready to do something for you in Intangibles. Come on, I’ll go down there with you and see what we can get going.”
It was lunchtime and so we had to wait for the elevator. I was feeling nervous—wondering, not very happily, why she hadn’t called me if the job had opened up; whether she ever would have remembered it again if I hadn’t turned up just then. They were not ego-inflating thoughts. I tried to make conversation. “So what were you two conspiring about?” I asked jokingly. The way she looked at me made me think my tone had been a touch too sharp. I tried to smooth it over: “I guess I’m a little strung out,” I apologized, assuming she would take that as natural from a Mokie-head. But it wasn’t that at all. It might even have been jealousy. “It seems a long time since you were running your spy ring on Venus,” I said wistfully. What I meant by that was that my perceptions of Mitzi had changed a lot since then. She seemed—I don’t know. Soberer? Kinder? Of course, it couldn’t be that she had changed. What was different was that, having lost her, I valued her more highly.
And, having lost her, I stood open-mouthed, gaping at her when, having stepped off the descending elevator and waiting for me, she called up, “If you’re not busy tonight, Tenny, how about dinner at my place?”
I don’t know what expression was on my face, but whatever it was it made her laugh. “I’ll pick you up after work,” she said. “Now, the man I want you to meet is Desmond Haseldyne, and that’s his office right down there. Come along!”
If Mitzi had surprised me with unexpected warmth, Haseldyne was a shock in the other direction. While Mitzi was introducing us he was glaring at me, and the only reading I could give his expression was loathing.
Why? I couldn’t guess. I’d seen the man around the Agency from time to time, of course. But I certainly couldn’t think of anything I’d done to offend him. And Desmond Haseldyne was not a man you would specially wish to have dislike you. He was huge. He was six feet six inches at least, shoulders like a stallion, fists that swallowed my hand up without a trace when he deigned to shake it.
Haseldyne was one of those freaky talents that Advertising fits into odd places in its great machine—a mathematician, they said; also a poet; also he had, curiously, had a very successful career in the import-export business before giving it up to turn to advertising. I got my first glimpse of a reason for his expression when he growled, “Hell, Mitzi! He’s the geek that’s always looking at his watch!”
“He’s also my friend,” she said firmly, “and a star-class copysmith who suffered from an accident that was not his fault. I want you to give him a chance. You can’t blame a person for being a victim of unethical advertising, can you?”
He relented. “I guess not,” he admitted—and didn’t even cover himself by adding, and thank heaven we at this Agency don’t stoop to such practices, as anyone else would have had the sense to do. You never know who’s bugging you. He stood up and lumbered around the desk to get a better look at me. “I guess,” he conceded, “that we can give him a try. You can run along, Mitzi. See you tonight?”
“No, I’ve got a date. Another time, Des,” she said, and winked at me as she closed the door.
Haseldyne sighed and passed a hand over his face. Then he returned to his chair. “Sit down, Tarb,” he boomed. “You know why you’re here?”
“I think so—Mr. Ha—Des,” I said firmly. I’d made up my mind that I was going to be treated like what I was, not just another trainee. It caused him to look at me sharply, but all he said was:
“This is the Department of
“Val,” she said, “we can finish this up later. Tenny? I think they might be ready to do something for you in Intangibles. Come on, I’ll go down there with you and see what we can get going.”
It was lunchtime and so we had to wait for the elevator. I was feeling nervous—wondering, not very happily, why she hadn’t called me if the job had opened up; whether she ever would have remembered it again if I hadn’t turned up just then. They were not ego-inflating thoughts. I tried to make conversation. “So what were you two conspiring about?” I asked jokingly. The way she looked at me made me think my tone had been a touch too sharp. I tried to smooth it over: “I guess I’m a little strung out,” I apologized, assuming she would take that as natural from a Mokie-head. But it wasn’t that at all. It might even have been jealousy. “It seems a long time since you were running your spy ring on Venus,” I said wistfully. What I meant by that was that my perceptions of Mitzi had changed a lot since then. She seemed—I don’t know. Soberer? Kinder? Of course, it couldn’t be that she had changed. What was different was that, having lost her, I valued her more highly.
And, having lost her, I stood open-mouthed, gaping at her when, having stepped off the descending elevator and waiting for me, she called up, “If you’re not busy tonight, Tenny, how about dinner at my place?”
I don’t know what expression was on my face, but whatever it was it made her laugh. “I’ll pick you up after work,” she said. “Now, the man I want you to meet is Desmond Haseldyne, and that’s his office right down there. Come along!”
If Mitzi had surprised me with unexpected warmth, Haseldyne was a shock in the other direction. While Mitzi was introducing us he was glaring at me, and the only reading I could give his expression was loathing.
Why? I couldn’t guess. I’d seen the man around the Agency from time to time, of course. But I certainly couldn’t think of anything I’d done to offend him. And Desmond Haseldyne was not a man you would specially wish to have dislike you. He was huge. He was six feet six inches at least, shoulders like a stallion, fists that swallowed my hand up without a trace when he deigned to shake it.
Haseldyne was one of those freaky talents that Advertising fits into odd places in its great machine—a mathematician, they said; also a poet; also he had, curiously, had a very successful career in the import-export business before giving it up to turn to advertising. I got my first glimpse of a reason for his expression when he growled, “Hell, Mitzi! He’s the geek that’s always looking at his watch!”
“He’s also my friend,” she said firmly, “and a star-class copysmith who suffered from an accident that was not his fault. I want you to give him a chance. You can’t blame a person for being a victim of unethical advertising, can you?”
He relented. “I guess not,” he admitted—and didn’t even cover himself by adding, and thank heaven we at this Agency don’t stoop to such practices, as anyone else would have had the sense to do. You never know who’s bugging you. He stood up and lumbered around the desk to get a better look at me. “I guess,” he conceded, “that we can give him a try. You can run along, Mitzi. See you tonight?”
“No, I’ve got a date. Another time, Des,” she said, and winked at me as she closed the door.
Haseldyne sighed and passed a hand over his face. Then he returned to his chair. “Sit down, Tarb,” he boomed. “You know why you’re here?”
“I think so—Mr. Ha—Des,” I said firmly. I’d made up my mind that I was going to be treated like what I was, not just another trainee. It caused him to look at me sharply, but all he said was:
“This is the Department of
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