New Hire

by Dave Dryfoos

  Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Robert Cicconetti, and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from the September 1953 issue of Galaxy Science Fiction. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

  NEW HIRE

  By DAVE DRYFOOS

  Illustrated by BALBALIS

  _Very admirable rule: Never do tomorrow what you can put off until after the age of forty!_

  * * * * *

  One thing about an electronic awakener: no matter how elaborate itshookup, melodious its music, and important its announced reminders,when it goes on in the morning you can always turn it off again.Boswell W. Budge always did exactly that.

  But there's no turning off one's kids, and thus, on the most importantmorning of his life, February 30, 2054, Bozzy arose, much against hiswill, promptly at 0800.

  His Sophie, eight and ladylike, merely shook the bed with a disdainfulgesture. But Howard, six, masculine, and athletic, climbed right upand sat on Bozzy's stomach. Baby Ralph, of the golden smile, gaveBozzy a big kiss, and Bozzy thus shared the gold, which was egg.

  "Did your mother send you in here?" Bozzy demanded, gazingsuspiciously around with one eye open.

  "We came because we love you," Sophie answered.

  That opened Bozzy's other eye. "Thank you, dear," he said. "You'revery sweet or very clever. Now if you'll coax Howard off my stomach--"

  "I don't have to be coaxed," Howard announced, sliding to the floorwith all the covers. "From now on, you just order me, Daddy. Becauseyou'll be a Senior Citizen tomorrow."

  Bozzy didn't want to think of that just then. "Tell your mother I'mup," he said. "And get out so I can bathe and dress."

  Sophie minced, Howard ran, Ralph toddled.

  Bozzy rose, a pudgy man slightly under average height at six feet two,with blue eyes and thinning brown hair. He was exactly thirty-nineyears, eleven months, and twenty-nine days old.

  And that was the point. At forty, he would have to go to work. Thiswas his day for job-taking.

  He dreaded it.

  * * * * *

  He put the coming ceremonies out of his mind and concentrated on hissupersonic bath, the depilatory cream, the color of his outerclothing. It took time to achieve the right shade of purple in thebathroom plastic-dispenser, but no time at all to pour, solidify, andcut the sheet-like robe required for the occasion.

  In it, he was the sensation of the breakfast room, handsome as a malebird in spring plumage. Kate, his slender wife, who had been up and atwork for an hour, looked moth-eaten by comparison, as if their nesthad been lined with her plucked-out down.

  "You look very attractive this morning, Kate," Bozzy told her. He gaveher an extra-warm kiss.

  "Well!" she said. "Quite the gallant today, aren't we? Just be sureyou're on time today, darling. Remember what Mr. Frewne had to sayabout promptness."

  Frewne. That overinflated windbag. The obesity who was about to becomehis boss. Without having worked a day in his life, Bozzy found hehated the idea of having a boss.

  "Let's think of something pleasant," he grunted, and thought ofbreakfast.

  He took his place at the table. Kate and the kids had already eaten,so Kate served, while the kids, attracted by his finery, stood off andwatched him swallow a vitamin pill, a thyroid pill, and a Dexedrinepill.

  Solemnly, he opened the three eggs Kate brought. Each was guaranteedby her to have been irradiated for exactly two minutes and fifty-fiveseconds, and guaranteed by the grocer to have been enriched byfeeding the hens three kinds of mold.

  His mouth was full of the third and last one when Sophie asked, "Whydo you have to go to work, Daddy?"

  The reminder choked him. Gulping, he said, "To support us all, honey.My pension stops tomorrow."

  "Yes, but I read in a book where people used to go to work when theywere young."

  He was tempted to say, "I _am_ young!" but thought better of it. "Thatwas long ago, dear."

  "Were people different then?"

  "No, but society was. Our Senior Citizens used to be pensioned off,while younger people worked. But when science improved the Seniors'health, they got tired of sitting in corners on pensions and, besides,a lot of them died soon after they stopped working. When it got sothat more than half of all voters were between forty and seventy yearsold, the Seniors voted their pensions to the young, to get educatedand raise families on, and nobody's allowed to work till he's forty.Now do you see?"

  "Forty is awful old," said Sophie.

  * * * * *

  Howard had meanwhile taken his mother's hand. "_You're_ not going towork, are you, Mommy?" he asked.

  "Not for ten years, dear. I'll be here when you want me, so why don'tyou go play on the balcony? I've got to get Daddy off and give Ralphhis bath."

  "I'll bathe him," Sophie volunteered. "You help, Howie. We can makelike we're young."

  "Don't drop him," Kate warned.

  "Clean up the bathroom afterward," added Bozzy.

  "Yes, sir," said Howard, for the first time in his life.

  The children left, and Kate came close to pour Bozzy his cup ofDaystart. He slipped an arm around her waist and squeezedconvulsively.

  "Darling!" she said, stroking his bald spot. "You're positivelytrembling!"

  "Wouldn't you be, if you had to take over from somebody you like aswell as I like Mr. Kojac? And for no good reason, except he'sseventy-five and I'll soon be forty."

  Kate pushed away from him, frowning. "Sometimes you're so silly, itscares me. You know perfectly well that if you don't take Mr. Kojac'sjob, someone else will. He'd rather have it in your hands than in astranger's, and I'd rather live on his income than on a laborer's. Sostop moping and drink your Daystart, while I call a cab."

  No help in that quarter, Bozzy decided as she left. All Kate couldthink of was that she'd soon be the wife of a big-shot: themanager--that is, controls setter--of a furniture factory.

  Bozzy had never told her how simple the job really was, though hesupposed she knew.

  You first ordered designs, and then you ordered a poll taken on thedesigns. A computer tabulated the poll's results and pointed out thedesign most likely to sell.

  You then fed economic data into the same computer, and found out howmany units the market could take. You called in the engineers to setup the machines, and the maintenance men to keep them running. Inbrief, you were errand boy to a bunch of gadgets, with nothing to dobut look important.

  He was practicing his important look when Kate bustled in and spoiledit by sitting on his lap.

  "You're going to do fine today," she said, "and you're going to getoff to a good start. I made them show me your cab. It's one of theirbrand-new battery-electric ones, a sort of mauve that will go withyour purple robe. You'll look swell in it."

  * * * * *

  Bozzy was kissing her when the lobby buzzer sounded three long rings.

  "There's your cab," Kate said, rising.

  He followed her to the living room. Projected on one wall was apicture of the cabman facing the lobby annunciator, fifty-threestories down. The man was tall, fat, and in need of a shave, yet hewore purple tights with pink and green trim.

  Bozzy shuddered. "Who in the world concocted that rig?"

  "Your wife, sir," the cabman answered.

  "It's beautiful," said Bozzy. "I'll be right down."

  He wasn't, though. Kate told the kids he was leaving, and they troopedout of the bathroom to say good-by.
<
br />   Bozzy could tell Ralph was the one being bathed only because he wasnaked--all three were equally wet, and equally anxious to embracetheir Daddy. He had to make himself a new robe while the cab meterticked and Kate jittered.

  But once started, the drive between balconied buildings andintervening plazas went fast enough. Bozzy wasn't over half an hourlate in reaching Mr. Kojac's apartment building.

  The old man waited in the street, looking spare, spruce, andimpatient.

  "I do wish," he said, easing himself into the cab, "that you had aless anti-social attitude. Now you'll have to claim I delayed you."

  "I'm sorry, sir," Bozzy mumbled. "It's kind of you to take the