Read The demolished man for Free Online Page B

seductress.
    "Well, Duffy?" He kissed her casually. She was as shapely as a sales-curve,
    pretty, but a trifle too young.
    "Well, Mr. Reich?" She looked at him oddly. "Some day I'm going to hire one of
    those Lonely-Heart Peepers to case your kiss. I keep thinking you don't mean
    business."
    "I don't."
    "Dog."
    "A man has to make up his mind early, Duffy. If he kisses girls he kisses his
    money goodbye."
    "You kiss me."
    "Only because you're the image of the lady on the credit."
    "Pip," she said.
    "Pop," he said.
    "Bim," she said.
    "Bam," he said.
    "I'd like to kill the bem who invented that fad," Duffy said darkly. "All right,
    handsome. What's your problem?"
    "Gambling," Reich said. "Ellery West, my Rec director, is complaining about the
    gambling in Monarch. Says there's too much. Personally I don't care."
    "Keep a man in debt and he's afraid to ask for a raise."
    "You're entirely too smart, young lady."
    "So you want a no-gamble-type song?"
    "Something like that. Catchy. Not too obvious. More a delayed action than a
    straight propaganda tune. I'd like the conditioning to be more or less
    unconscious."
    Duffy nodded and made quick notes.
    "And make it a tune worth hearing. I'll have to listen to God knows how many
    people singing and whistling and humming it."
    "You louse. All my tunes are worth hearing."
    "Once."
    "That's a thousand extra on your tab."
    Reich laughed. "Speaking of monotony..." he continued smoothly.
    "Which we weren't."
    "What's the most persistent tune you ever wrote?"
    "Persistent?"
    "You know what I mean. Like those advertising jingles you can't get out of your
    head."
    "Oh. Pepsis, we call 'em."
    "Why?"
    "Dunno. They say because the first one was written centuries ago by a character
    named Pepsi. I don't buy that. I wrote one once..." Duffy winced in
    recollection. "Hate to think of it even now. Guaranteed to obsess you for a
    month. It haunted me for a year."
    "You're rocketting."
    "Scout's honor, Mr. Reich. It was `Tenser, Said The Tensor.' I wrote it for that
    flop show about the crazy mathematician. They wanted nuisance value and they
    sure got it. People got so sore they had to withdraw it. Lost a fortune."
    "Let's hear it."
    "I couldn't do that to you."
    "Come on, Duffy. I'm really curious."
    "You'll regret it"
    "I don't believe you."
    "All right, pig," she said, and pulled the punch panel toward her. "This pays
    you back for that no-guts kiss."
    Her fingers and palm slipped gracefully over the panel. A tune of utter monotony
    filled the room with agonizing, unforgettable banality. It was the quintessence
    of every melodic cliche Reich had ever heard. No matter what melody you tried to
    remember, it invariably led down the path of familiarity to "Tenser, Said The
    Tensor." Then Duffy began to sing:
        Eight, sir; seven, sir;
        Six, sir; five, sir;
        Four, sir; three, sir;
        Two, sir; one!
        Tenser, said the Tensor.
        Tenser, said the Tensor.
        Tension, apprehension,
        And dissension have begun.
    "Oh my God!" Reich exclaimed.
    "I've got some real gone tricks in that tune," Duffy said, still playing.
    "Notice the beat after `one'? That's a semicadence. Then you get another beat
    after `begun.' That turns the end of the song into a semicadence, too, so you
    can't ever end it. The beat keeps you running in circles, like: Tension,
    apprehension, and dissension have begun. RIFF. Tension, apprehension, and
    dissension have begun. RIFF. Tension, appre---"
    "You little devil!" Reich started to his feet, pounding his palms on his ears.
    "I'm accursed. How long is this affliction going to last?"
    "Not more than a month."
    "Tension, apprehension, and diss---I'm ruined. Isn't there any way out?"
    "Sure," Duffy said. "It's easy. Just ruin me." She pressed herself against him
    and planted an earnest young kiss. "Lout," she murmured. "Pig. Boob. Dolt. When
    are you going to drag me through the gutter? Clever-up, dog. Why aren't you as
    smart as I think you