Roy shrugged. "I'm surprised at you. Offhand, I'd say the Martians were
highly advanced, sensible, uninhibited, pretty wonderful human beings.
At least they know what they're living for. Maybe it would do you good
to watch."
Edith looked up momentarily at the sky, then lowered her gaze swiftly.
"I ... I can't!" she whispered. Then she too ran from the roof and
disappeared down the stairway.
Roy looked after her a moment, then shrugged and returned to his
contour chair and settled himself deeply into it.
As the Big Show went on, he had no idea of the turmoil that was
sweeping the world. It was only when the day's performance was over and
he went down to his office that he got his first inkling. It consisted
of the discovery that he had been fired--at the request of a certain
breakfast cereals company.
* * * * *
By noon the next day every sponsor who had signed up for the Big Show
had cancelled their contracts, and by midnight it became painfully
obvious that although the contracts could easily be cancelled, it was
not equally easy to cancel the show. That night the Big Show went on,
depicting more of the family life of the Martians, taking Earth viewers
through a typical day of a Martian couple on the day of the birth of
their first child. To many of those who watched the show, it offered
a tremendous fascination; but to others, more squeamish and unable to
face the naked realities, both of the flesh and of the business of
giving birth to a baby, neither of which spared any detail in their
presentation, it was an experience past their ability to endure.
However, as one prominent physician said: "_This_ is the way a baby
should be born! Every woman on Earth can take a lesson from what we
have just seen ... if they did we'd have little use for doctors,
psychiatrists or psychologists. This is the miracle of birth as it was
meant to be."
It was the unfortunate sponsor who made the loudest noise, though. His
screams were heard the world over. His brand of beer, spoken of in such
glowing terms before and after the broadcast, wasn't worth a nickel
after the Martians did a re-run of the show depicting how the birth
would have gone if the mother had been a drunkard. Now, indeed, were
there faintings and mental blowups among the populace. The scene _was_
rather ghastly. Some thought the Martians had overdone it, but as the
president of the W.C.T.U. remarked triumphantly: "Exactly what we've
been saying for decades!"
At midnight the FCC suspended the license of the NBC-CBS Big Show
Merger, and Herman Fendler himself lost his job. Along with him, of
course, Edith Miller became unemployed, although no woman in that
category could claim to be more beautifully unemployed.
* * * * *
Roy Mallory, visiting his office to remove some of his personal
belongings, found her emptying her own desk.
"Oh," he said. "Another casualty?"
"You read the papers, don't you?" she asked.
"Yes, I heard of the FCC closing the networks up. But it hasn't stopped
the show. Tonight, you know, is the Martian version of what they do
for entertainment. I suppose we'll be watching that happy young couple
going out on the town and doing it up brown, or buff, as you might
say...."
"_You_ will be watching," Edith cut in acidly. "I have no doubt at all.
As for me...."
"Certainly I'll be watching. That doll is almost as beautiful as you
are, and I keep thinking how nice it would be if we were on Mars."
"We're not," she said. "And we won't ever be."
"Alas!" he said glumly. "And alack!"
"You're as funny as a crutch," she said, stuffing the last of her
belongings into her bag. "You ought to get yourself a job as a
comedian."
"Oh, I've already got a job," he said airily.
"Oh?"
"Yes."
She stood there, poised as if to leave, but not actually translating
the poise into action.
"Where?" she asked, setting down her bag with a defiant slam.
"I could use a good secretary," he said.
"Tell me where you're working," she demanded impatiently.
"I'm starting my own business in television producing," he said. "And
I'll never make it go without a competent secretary, and ..." he put
his hands behind his back, "... look, no hands."
"I'll take the job," she said. "And what are you doing for your first
show?"
"Give me time," he grinned. "I just this minute started the new
company."
"I thought so," she said calmly. "Well, how about the Big Show?"
"The Big Show!"
"Why not?"
"Who'll we get for a sponsor?" he asked sarcastically.
"How about Sunbathing Magazine?" she suggested.
He looked at her wide-eyed. "Sunbathing Magazine!" he gasped.
"Of course. With all this publicity, their circulation will zoom to the
moon, if they just grab it--and it's up to you to see that they do!"
"Baby," he said wonderingly, "I just don't know how to take you."
"Don't try it," she said, picking up a letter-knife and toying with it.
* * * * *
Exactly one week later the Martians dropped all their previously
scheduled commercials, and put on the first of the new commercials. As
Roy Mallory reclined in the contour chair atop the roof of his newly
rented office, Edith Miller suddenly appeared at his side and looked
around.
"Where's my chair?" she asked.
He leaped to his feet. "I didn't think you cared to watch the Big
Show," he said. "I only ordered one chair. You're always yelling about
extravagance...."
"All right," she said. "I'll sit on the parapet."
"You'll get a stiff neck."
"I've already got one," she said.
"I'll say you have," he said disgustedly. "But why not forget all that?
This chair is big enough for two."
"I don't need this job that bad."
He grunted and sat down in the chair again. "Okay. But tell me if your
neck does get stiff--I'll change off with you, fifty-fifty."
"Fair enough," she said.
The show began, and there was silence on the roof. Edith watched
calmly, and Roy divided his attention between watching her and the
show. As the show progressed, it became obvious that the script was
perfect for the new sponsor.
"We'll make a million on that percentage agreement," said Edith.
"Two million," said Roy. "I think I'll make you a partner for that bit
of masterminding."
"Keep it," she said. "And by the way, isn't that the roof of the
Sunbathing Magazine building over there?"
"Yes."
"And isn't that the editorial staff of Sunbathing Magazine out on the
roof watching the show?"
"Yes."
"And aren't they in the buff, as you so crudely put it, in spite of the
fact the sun isn't out?"
Roy sat up in his chair and looked sharply at the roof in question. In
the vivid light from the sky-pictures, which now were showing a happy
couple soaring fantastically in a Martian equivalent of the aerial
gadgets of Coney Island, still unimpeded by the briefest of entangling
garments, it was quite obvious that the editorial staff of Sunbathing
Magazine was indeed buffing it.
"They're pretty modern over there," he said. "You can't blame them for
practicing what they preach."
"But isn't this an innovation?"
"I believe so. Usually they limit their activities to private camps."
"I heard today that there were new teenage clubs being formed,
patterned after the Big Show," said Edith.
"Clubs?"
"Yes. The police arrested a whole group of them in Sandusky, Ohio, for
stripping off their clothes during a local hop."
"That's not so good," said Roy.
"Oh, I don't know. They weren't really doing anything wrong."