Ah, Miss Krimsby, I'm glad to see you on the job so promptly. While I was alive, I always believed in giving the old job a full day's effort. That's a policy I intend to maintain here in the realm of the spirit I feel we owe that to our clients . . . Hum? . . . Yes, Miss Krimsby. I'll be busy going over the preliminaries for our explorers campaign, but not too busy to accept important calls . . .
. . . What now, Miss Krimsby? . . . Certainly, I'll talk to him. Put him on . . .
Well, Senator, I'm honored to hear from you. We met on Earth once . . . No, I didn't vote for you, but only because my home was in Connecticut. I was rooting for you all the way, Senator . . . Thank you, Senator. I hope you're getting accustomed to the place . . . Good. If I can be of any help . . .
Oh? Why, certainly, the firm would be honored to have you as a client . . . How's that? . . . I see. Well, that's your decision to make, Senator. Of course we would prefer to sign you on immediately, and get busy on a long-term program for you, but you're the boss. I might add, though, that we're prepared to accept you now on a straight commission basis, and later on we may have to start you on the fee system at a time when you will have far less remembrance-power than now. Those fees can dip pretty deep into a soul's capital, so to speak. Heh-heh-heh . . .
Now, Senator . . . Please, Mr. Senator . . . Look Senator, baby, don't take it that way! This is a respected remembrance agency dedicated to the best interests of our clients. We earn our commissions and fees! How long do you think we could hold our reputation if we tried to bilk every new soul that wanders in? . . .
Let me explain the situation, Senator, before you say another word. First, look about you at the other souls in the realm. You'll notice that, on the average, they just don't compare with you in brilliance and radiating power. The reason is, as you must have learned by now, that these are average souls, souls-in-the-street we might say. They are remembered, at the most, by a hundred or so relatives and friends, and for only a few decades. After that, they draw what little brilliance they display from the background of remembrance-power that is spread through the realm.
You're not like them, Senator, baby, not like them at all. You're a member of the Lustrous Company, the greats of history at whom remembrance-power is constantly being directed by millions of the living! That's what sets the Lustrous apart from the ordinary, what gives you high-magnitude radiance.
Now you've been mingling since you arrived with the Lustrous set, Senator, baby. Tell me this: how many of them are Senators who died more than twenty years ago? . . . Right! And how many Senators who've been dead fifty years? . . . Of course you haven't met one yet, because there aren't any to meet, except a few like Hank Clay who're best remembered for other reasons.
I'll tell you why that is, Senator. Most politicians arrive here in a blaze of glory, riding on a surge of remembrance brought on by their funerals. The first thing they know they're mingling with boys like Bill Shakespeare, Julie the Caesar, Genghis Khan, Ben Franklin, Johnny Bach, and so on. Now I don't mean this critically, baby, but politicians have a good opinion of themselves to begin with. When they get here and are slapped on the back by old G. Washington himself, nobody can tell them they're not all set for eternity!
Then, five or ten years later, it's pouf! Down the drain. For most of them. The people back on Earth have quit thinking about them, and they shrink down to normal soul size.
That's when most of them come running to me or some other remembrance agent, but it's too late then, baby! They don't bring us enough to work with, more often than not You have to understand, Senator, baby, that it's a thousand times easier to keep your memory alive than to rebuild it from nothing.
So you can accuse me, if you like, of trying to bilk you out of ten per cent of the remembrance-power that's coming in now, and that you achieved without my help. If you want to keep that attitude, all I can say is good luck to you, baby! Gleam it up for the next few years! You've won that privilege. But if you want to start thinking about the long term—and up here, baby, the long term is long—then we can talk business. Get the picture? . . .
Who's trying to rush you? Not me! Any time within the next week will be fine with us. Talk it over with your acquaintances in the Lustrous Company. See what they say . . . How's that? . . . I'd rather not, Senator, baby . . . No, I don't mingle with the Lustrous myself, although I don't mind admitting that my remembrancepower commissions give me a fair magnitude. A good remembrance agent, like a good press agent back on Earth, is one who keeps himself out of the limelight. You do the shining, and I'll keep my light hidden under a bushel. Heh-heh-heh . . . No, I'm afraid I'm too busy to meet you personally, and there's no need of that, anyway, as the mode of communication we're using now is quite adequate. Although I do appreciate your asking me . . .
. . . Very well, Senator, baby. But remember: don't wait too long. Two weeks at the most, and that's more for your own good than mine. Every day you delay is going to work against you . . . Goodbye . . .
Are you there, Miss Krimsby? . . . Okay, make a note to turn the Senator over to Lanny if he calls back and wants to be taken on . . . Yeah, within two weeks. The best we can do for him, I'm afraid, is the folk-hero routine. Lanny's doing a good job on the Davy Crockett account, and maybe he can use the same techniques to keep this new pigeon flying for a century or so . . . No, no long-term potential at all. Carry on, Miss Krimsby . . .
. . . Yes? . . . Who? . . . Oh, Ludwig, baby! How are ya? What's on your deep and sonorous mind today, baby? Oh, come on, now Ludwig! I can't believe the great Beethoven is jealous of such a minor composer as-what did you say his name is, Luddy, baby? . . . Jean Sibelius? Oh, sure, I remember him now, a guy recently from Finland. Well, you got to remember he is recent, and was a national hero when he came across to us. He'll start fading soon, and you'll still be right up there, Luddy, baby . . . Oh yes, we're working hard on your account all the time—after all, you're just about the biggest we've got . . .
Hum? . . . Well, we're prompting more and more performances of the Ninth Symphony-we're letting the Fifth and Seventh rest for a few decades right now. Also, we're doing something rather experimental with comic strips for you. The idea is to by-pass the formal education systems (which are in a confused mess at the moment, anyway) and use other media to plant your name in the retentive minds of millions of children . . .
No, that won't counter Sibelius' national hero status, not immediately, anyhow. But in the long pull . . . Well, if it's bothering you, Luddy, baby, I'll try to come up with something. Hey, here's an idea. Rebels are the "in" thing on Earth right now, so why not inspire one of the turned-on writers to give you a build-up along those lines? Something like: Beethoven, Fighter for SelfExpression? How does that hit you, baby? . . . Okay, the agency will get right to work on it . . . Right I'll keep in touch, Luddy, baby. Goodbye . . .
(Eech! What a grouch!) . . . Miss Krimsby? That Sibelius fella might have potential. Beethoven's in a stew over him, which must mean something. What's the latest info on him? . . . Still the strong, silent type, hah? Well, if he's not talking to anybody, chances are he's still unrepresented. Put a couple of the boys on him. When he starts talking, I want him to talk to us first . . .
Oh, you've already done that, Miss Krimsby? . . . Fine! That's what I like to see, sweety—intelligent initiative. Keep up the good work . . .
Who? . . . Yes, but don't call him Mark Twain even when he calls himself that. Let him know you're aware he's Mr. Clemens . . .
Hi, Sam, what's the good word? . . . Why, thanks, Sam, I appreciate that. Thoughtful of you to mention it. What can I do for you today? . . . Nothing? What . . . You mean to say you called just to congratulate me on my promotion to managing partner of the agency? . . . Sam, youyou've got me all choked up! If there were such things as angels, you'd sure as hell be one, Sam. If all our clients were like you . . . Sorry, Sam, I didn't mean to go mushy like that, but you caught me by surprise . . .
Well, since you're one guy I can speak frankly to, Sam, I don't mind telling you I feel pretty damn smug over the whole thing. Of course I give the senior partners in the firm a lot of credit. They've been in business a long time, but they're on their toes every minute, and they didn't take long in grasping the advantages of having a modern public relations man like myself running things. Nothing stodgy about those guys! . . .
Oh, no, Sam, I'm no genius. Of course I have a bright idea occasionally, and I'm glad that one turned out so well. The hard part was to find just the right actor to portray you. Once we found the Holbrook lad, all we had to do was pour the inspiration to him . . . heh-hehheh! Yeah, Sam, I bet you're collecting far more remembrance-power than you ever did royalties. That's often the way it is with the true greats, Sam . . . Thanks, and if you want anything from us, all you have to do . . . Okay, Sam. So long. ..
. . . Miss Krimsby, were you listening to that? . . . Then I don't have to explain why I'd like us to do something special for Sam Clemens, and I've got an idea . . . An international build-up is what I have in mind-new translations of Sawyer and Finn, written to appeal to modern minds. We'll want European translators who'll work a background of passionate sex into the stories (maybe Tom and Becky could fool around while they're lost in that cave) and the editions for the communist countries ought to be given a socialist ring. The boys in our international letters department can work out the details . . . How's that again, Miss Krimsby? . . . Say, that's a good idea. Put the boys to work on that, too. You are really earning that last raise you received, Miss Krimsby, and at this rate the next one won't be long in coming . . . Heh-heh-heh! It's a pleasure working with you, Miss Krimsby! . . .
. . . Well, I might as well talk to him. Put him on . . . How are you today, President Fillmore? . . . I'm sorry to hear that . . . That's too bad, but you have to see the situation like it is, Milly, baby, and the truth is that exPresidents are a dime a dozen . . . Oh, sure, there are exceptions, but not many . . .
Don't be that way, Milly, baby. It's just the way the universe cycles, and we all have to accept it. Look at the vast majority of Roman emperors—they're merely touched upon in history books today, almost completely forgotten. That's true of former crowned heads the world over. There's just so damned many ex-rulers, Milly, baby! If you could have gotten yourself assassinated, or could have won or lost a war, things might be different for you. But you just didn't provide us much to work with, Milly, baby . . .
That's always your privilege, if you think some other firm can handle you better, Milly, baby. Of course, we'll keep working hard for you, but I really can't promise any improvement. And if some other agency is promising you anything like that—well, just bear in mind that we've always been honest with you, even when honesty hurt . . . Milly, baby, if you fall for a fee-basis arrangement, you'll be down to soul-in-the-street magnitude in no time at all! If you insist on changing agents, insist on your new man giving you a straight ten percent commission deal . . .
That's more like it, Milly, baby . . . Sure, I understand. If I were in your shoes, I'd get impatient at times myself, seeing my magnitude almost lost in the glare of so many newcomers who, despite the tremendous remembrancepower they're drawing, are basically trivial souls . . . That's right, all those disreputable actors and mountebanks, Milly, baby, but they always fade fast. They haven't got the staying power—the security-that you have, even though they outshine you temporarily . . . Right. Call me any time, Milly, baby . . .
. . . Miss Krimsby . . . Send a memo to accounting, will you? I want a comparative-profit study on all the American President accounts previous to—make it previous to Teddy Roosevelt, and excluding Washington and Lincoln . . . That's right. I think it may be time to trim some deadwood off our client list. But they're still our clients in the meantime, so instruct operations to inspire a television special titled Our Forgotten Presidents. That ought to brighten them up for a while, and keep them off my back . . .
. . . He's calling me? . . . Did—did he say what it's about? . . . Not even a hint? . . . Yes, yes, Miss Krimsby, put him on. Mustn't keep the senior partner waiting . . . And don't monitor this one . . .
. . . Niccolo! I'm flattered that you called . . . How are you today, sir? . . . A personnel matter? Certainly I'll give it my immediate attention, sir . . . What? . . . Not Miss Krimsby, sir! Why, I can hardly believe . . . She did? . . . She did? . . . Oh, no! That's awful, sir! . . .
No, sir, she can have no possible excuse. Our entire staff is thoroughly briefed on the necessity of never showing themselves in public. And being right at the center of our activities, she would be even more aware than the others that we can't afford to be seen, outshining as we do all but the brightest members of the Luminous Company . . .
Ah? . . . I see, sir . . . A crush on Clark Gable, huh? I knew she was ambitious for some reason, but I assumed her motivation was the same as my own, and the firm's other loyal members . . . So she had to show off in his presence . . .
Yes, Niccolo, she'll be drained and discharged immediately, but I'm afraid the matter doesn't end there. The Luminous Company is going to be in an uproar over this. Our agency will almost certainly be investigated, and all of us will have to appear personally . . . No, sir, it won't be sufficient to have her confess the embezzlement of working remembrance-power from the agency. Although that's a necessary first step . . .
No, sir, I'm afraid we don't have that much time. You see, sir, a newly-arrived American Senator—a prospective client—was talking with me earlier today, and he was suspiciously persistent about interviewing me in person before he made his decision . . . Yes, I draw the same conclusion as you, sir, that the news of Miss Krimsby's disastrous indiscretion is already getting around . . . Thank you for your confidence in my ability to deal with this emergency, sir. What I propose is this: all partners and staff members will drain their accumulated magnitude down to levels appropriate for the firm's image. For myself and the other partners, except yourself, sir, I believe a Ben Franklin magnitude would be about right. For the staff people—perhaps the Gracie Allen size would be suitable.
These magnitudes are high enough to demand respect, you will note, sir, but not so high as to seem out of line. They will bear out our claim that we operate on a tight margin of profit, converting almost all of our earnings into inspiration which is expended in behalf of our clients . . .
Your magnitude, sir? . . . Since you mingle with the Luminous, sir, we couldn't change yours if we wanted to. Also, you have been more prudent than the rest of us in your participation in the firm's success, and have increased your magnitude no more than might be explained by the popularity of your book, The Prince . . . Where do we drain to? That is a problem, sir. We can't simply drain into the firm's working capital of remembrance-power. That will surely be investigated, too. I'm afraid we'll actually have to expend the overage in inspiration, sir, and pour it out on Earth . . .
No, it will be no problem to dump that much inspiration on Earth without producing effects the investigators would notice. I'll make it inspiration for peace, and as you know, sir, the living take delight in fighting for peace. The inspiration will be practically invisible, heh-heh! . . . No, sir, it won't be enough to start a war—at least not a major one . . .
I agree, sir. This depletion of capital is going to set the firm back at least five centuries, and believe me, you can't be as heartbroken about it as I. To think, this had to happen under my management! . . . Well—yes, sir, we have to take these things in stride . . . you can count on me to handle the whole affair with discretion and dispatch, sir. Goodbye . . .
Miss Krimsby! . . . Miss Krimsby, why in the name of all the mythological gods and devils—why did you have to go prancing out in public, outshining the Virgin Mary?