Prescription for Chaos by Christopher Anvil Read Free Book Online Page B

smoke but with no cigarette in sight, came neatly, briskly, across the floor toward them. His step was confident, and his manner friendly, but his eyes suggested a boxer who had been thrown three times by a judo expert, and is coming out for the fourth time.
    "Good afternoon, gentlemen. You want to look at a new car ?"
    Banner nodded.
    "Well, sir, we've cut the price on this model to $2,895.00. For your money, you get something no used-car dealer can offer—newness. The style, of course, is a little different from past years. But what is style but proof of newness ?"
    He maneuvered them around to a sleek, dark-blue model, and opened the door to show a lush, expensive interior.
    "Granted," he said, "it's a little extreme, but . . . ah . . . look how new the upholstery is! Look at the floor mats, and the brake pedal—"
    Banner, obviously patterning his reaction after the advertisement they'd read earlier, shrugged. "Who cares about the upholstery?"
    "Ah, sir, but remember, it's more proof of newness ! Of course, what counts in a car is the running gear. But one of the most important factors in the condition of the running gear is its freeness from wear and misuse. It's newness , in other words. And you'll find no newer car anywhere than—"
    Banner peered inside.
    "Fantastic dash. Everyone will laugh like—"
    "A car, sir," said the salesman quickly, "is a long-term investment. Would you permit uninformed neighbors to decide your choice of stocks and bonds? Of course not! Why, then—"
    Like two fencers, Banner and the salesman thrust and parried in a rapid exchange of arguments that lasted five minutes, with the other salesmen listening breathlessly, and the owner wide-eyed in a glassed-in cubicle to one side. At the end, Banner conceded that he hadn't heard such good reasons for a new car in years, but he still wanted to look around. The salesman handed over his card, and managed to shake hands with both of them on the way out, while telling them how welcome they'd be when they came back.
    As the door swung shut, a voice could be heard in the background, saying, "We've got to tone that dash down, somehow ."
    Banner and Hommel glanced at each other after they'd gone a few steps.
    "If," said Banner, " that salesman can't sell new cars, who could?"
    Hommel said uneasily, "How do we know where a thing like this is going to stop?"
    "That's the trouble. We don't."
    They walked on in silence. Then Banner cleared his throat.
    "Look there. Down on the next block."
    Hommel glanced at a huge sign:
     
BEST YEARS—BEST BUYS
     
    Twenty or thirty customers were unhurriedly making their way through a large used-car lot. Here and there, attendants were polishing and waxing cars. Salesmen were raising hoods, and helpfully taking off brake drums so customers could see the condition of the brake lining.
    As Hommel and Banner walked past the car lot, Hommel became conscious of some odd quality about the appearance pf the customers. "They look—" he hesitated.
    "Neat," said Banner, frowning, "but shabby?"
    "I think that's it."
    Hommel studied a middle-aged man by a nearby car. He was wearing a clean, frayed, black sweater with three yellow stripes on the sleeve and a big yellow "W" on the back. He was saying expansively to a salesman, "So the wife says, 'Charles, you can't wear that old thing. What will people think?' And I said, 'This sweater's as warm as a new one. They'll think I've got sense, what would they think?'" He shook a little greenish object out of the bottle, shot it into his mouth, crunched it up, and offered the bottle to the salesman.
    "Don't mind if I do," said the salesman. He shook the bottle over his open hand, tossed a little pale-green pill into his mouth, chewed contentedly, and handed back the bottle. The word "De-Tox" was momentarily visible on the label. The customer slipped the bottle in a side pocket. The two men chewed placidly.
    Hommel and Banner stared.
    "Ah," said the customer, "that old stuff really