Raymond smiled grimly and stood up. "If you will watch closely, oh, loyal servant, you will note that I am about to do something not so typical of my assorted human friends." Walking unsteadily over to the bar, he reached into a small drawer, and withdrew a small plastic container labeled: SOBERUPPER. "In fact," Raymond said, as he removed two pills and tossed them into his mouth, "I must be out of my mind." He swallowed hard, blinked, and gasped. For a moment he leaned heavily on the bar. Then suddenly, clarity. The room was brighter. The drab grays resolved into blue and yellow pastel panelling along the walls. The carpeting was a rich deep blue. The polished floating ebony slab glittered in the room. "Come on, Android. We're heading for the big city." * * * * * The city, as they flew over it, was a blazing ocean of roof-top advertisements, designed to attract the attention of the overhead traffic. Raymond threw a switch and a private radar beacon blipped brightly on his jetcopter's screen. He touched a button and the controls automatically guided the craft towards a gigantic flashing sign, which proclaimed: GENERAL ANDROIDS. The jetcopter dropped onto the roof-top parking lot with a thud. The android and Raymond climbed out and took the nearest escalator down to the mezzanine. They entered the Sales Manager's office, where Raymond cornered Mr. Krutchamer, the Assistant Sales Manager, and quickly explained the difficulties with the android. Mr. Krutchamer was a small wiry man with a surprisingly deep, impressive voice. He shrugged his slight shoulders, after listening patiently, and said, "Doesn't sound like a mechanical manifestation to me, sir." "Mechanical or electronical," Raymond demanded perplexed, "what's the difference?" "Well, sir," Mr. Krutchamer began with a flashing white-toothed smile, "you've had your android for three months, and while our guarantee is for one year, it specifically spells out an unconditional warranty against mechanical defects." "No guarantee against any electronic defects?" The little man shook his head emphatically. "No, sir. All electrical parts are guaranteed, of course, for thirty days, but you've had the android for ninety days." Mr. Krutchamer's face was sad, his eyebrows crept down over his eyes, and his voice dropped to a confidential decibel level. "I'm sorry, sir, but your problem sounds more like a chronic psycho-electronic condition. I would recommend that you see a PRD." "What's that?" Raymond was annoyed. His face was flushed and he squinted at the little man. "Doctor of Psychiatric Robotory." "This android doesn't need Psycho-therapy, damn it," Raymond said hotly. "Maybe some minor adjustment with a heavy monkey wrench. But that's all."