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We gentled the cootch and qualified the subliminals you know, 'Day by day in every way I'm getting sharper and more serene' but a stabilizing influence was still needed, so after a top-level conference we decided to combine Tickler with Moodmaster." "My God," Gusterson interjected, "do they have a machine now that does that?" "Of course. They've been using them on ex-mental patients for years."
"That's not a suitable topic for jesting," Fay frowned. "We're hoping that Tickler will mobilize the full potential of the Free World for the first time in history. Gusterson, you are going to have to wear a ticky-tick. It's becoming impossible for a man to get through modern life without one." "Maybe I will," Gusterson said appeasingly, "but right now tell me about Moodmaster.
I want to put it in my new insanity novel." Fay shook his head. "Your readers will just think you're behind the times. If you use it, underplay it. But anyhow, Moodmaster is a simple physiotherapy engine that monitors bloodstream chemicals and body electricity.
A sulky-lipped sylph-figured girl two feet from him twitched medium cootch, he judged then fumbled in her belt-bag for a pill and popped it in her mouth. "Hell, the tickler's not even efficient yet about little things," Gusterson blatted, diving back into the privacy-yashmak he was sharing with Fay. "Whyn't that girl's doctor have the Moodmaster component of her tickler inject her with medicine?"
Some of it stained a flush-skin plastic fitting that had two small valved holes in it and that puzzled Gusterson until he remembered that Moodmaster tied into the bloodstream. For a second he thought he was going to vomit. The dazed look slid aside from Fay's eyes. He was gasping less painfully now.
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