Breeder Reaction Read online

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  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from If Worlds of Science Fiction April 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

  Breeder Reaction

  By Winston Marks

  Illustrated by Kelly Freas

  _The remarkable thing about Atummyc Afterbath Dusting Powder was that it gave you that lovely, radiant, atomic look--just the way the advertisements said it would. In fact, it also gave you a little something_ more!

  * * * * *

  The advertising game is not as cut and dried as many people think.Sometimes you spend a million dollars and get no results, and thensome little low-budget campaign will catch the public's fancy and walkaway with merchandising honors of the year.

  Let me sound a warning, however. When this happens, watch out! There'salways a reason for it, and it isn't always just a matter of brightslogans and semantic genius. Sometimes the product itself does thetrick. And when this happens people in the industry lose their headstrying to capitalize on the "freak" good fortune.

  This can lead to disaster. May I cite one example?

  I was on loan to Elaine Templeton, Inc., the big cosmetics firm, whenone of these "prairie fires" took off and, as product engineer fromthe firm of Bailey Hazlitt & Persons, Advertising Agency, I figured Ihad struck pure gold. My assay was wrong. It was fool's gold on a poolof quicksand.

  Madame "Elaine", herself, had called me in for consultation on a hugelipstick campaign she was planning--you know, NOW AT LAST, A TRULYKISS-PROOF LIPSTICK!--the sort of thing they pull every so often toget the ladies to chuck their old lip-goo and invest in the currentdream of non-smearability. It's an old gimmick, and the new product isnever actually kiss-proof, but they come closer each year, and thegals tumble for it every time.

  Well, they wanted my advice on a lot of details such as optimumshades, a new name, size, shape and design of container. And they wereready to spend a hunk of moolah on the build-up. You see, when theygive a product a first-class advertising ride they don't figure onnecessarily showing a profit on that particular item. If they breakeven they figure they are ahead of the game, because the true purposeis to build up the brand name. You get enough women raving over thenew Elaine Templeton lipstick, and first thing you know sales startclimbing on the whole line of assorted aids to seduction.

  Since E. T., Inc., was one of our better accounts, the old man told meto take as long as was needed, so I moved in to my assigned office, inthe twelve-story E. T. building, secretary, Scotch supply, ice-bags,ulcer pills and all, and went to work setting up my survey staff. Thisproduct engineering is a matter of "cut and try" in some fields. Youget some ideas, knock together some samples, try them on the publicwith a staff of interviewers, tabulate the results, draw yourconclusions and hand them over to Production with a prayer. If your adbudget is large enough your prayer is usually answered, because theAmerican Public buys principally on the "we know what we like, and welike what we know" principle. Make them "know it" and they'll buy it.Maybe in love, absence makes the heart grow fonder, but in thisbusiness, familiarity breeds nothing but sales.

  Madame Elaine had a fair staff of idea boys, herself. In fact, everyother department head had some gimmick he was trying to push to getpersonal recognition. The Old Hag liked this spirit of initiative andmade it plain to me I was to give everyone a thorough hearing.

  This is one of the crosses you have to bear. Everyone but the janitorwas swarming into my office with suggestions, and more than half ofthem had nothing to do with the lipstick campaign at all. So Idutifully listened to each one, had my girl take impressive notes andthen lifted my left or my right eyebrow at her. My left eyebrow meantfile them in the wastebasket. This is how the Atummyc AfterbathDusting Powder got lost in the shuffle, and later I was credited withlaunching a new item on which I didn't even have a record.

  It came about this way:

  * * * * *

  Just before lunch one day, one of the Old Hag's promotion-mindedpixies flounced her fanny into my interview chair, crossed her kneesup to her navel and began selling me her pet project. She was arelative of the Madame as well as a department head, so I had tolisten.

  Her idea was corny--a new dusting powder with "Atummion" added, to becalled, "Atummyc Afterbath Dusting Powder"--"Atummyc", of course,being a far-fetched play on the word "atomic". What delighted herespecially was that the intimate, meaningful word "tummy" occurred inher coined trade name, and this was supposed to do wonders instimulating the imaginations of the young females of man-catching-age.

  As I said, the idea was corny. But the little hazel-eyed pixie wasnot. She was about 24, black-haired, small-waisted and bubbling withhormones. With her shapely knees and low-cut neckline she was apleasant change of scenery from the procession of self-seekingmiddle-agers I had been interviewing--not that her motive was anydifferent.

  I stalled a little to feast my eyes. "This _Atummion Added_ item," Isaid, "just what is _Atummion_?"

  "That's my secret," she said, squinching her eyes at me like afun-loving little cobra. "My brother is assistant head chemist, andhe's worked up a formula of fission products we got from the AtomicEnergy Commission for experimentation."

  "Fission products!" I said. "That stuff's dangerous!"

  "Not this formula," she assured me. "Bob says there's hardly anyradiation to it at all. Perfectly harmless."

  "Then what's it supposed to do?" I inquired naively.

  She stood up, placed one hand on her stomach and the other behind herhead, wiggled and stretched. "Atummyc Bath Powder will give miladythat wonderful, vibrant, _atomic_ feeling," she announced in a voicedripping with innuendo.

  "All right," I said, "that's what it's supposed to do. Now what doesit really do?"

  "Smells good and makes her slippery-dry, like any other talcum," sheadmitted quite honestly. "It's the name and the idea that will put itacross."

  "And half a million dollars," I reminded her. "I'm afraid the wholething is a little too far off the track to consider at this time. I'mhere to make a new lipstick go. Maybe later--"

  "I appreciate that, but honestly, don't you think it's a terrificidea?"

  "I think you're terrific," I told her, raising my left eyebrow at mysecretary, "and we'll get around to you one of these days."

  "Oh, Mr. Sanders!" she said, exploding those big eyes at me andshoving a half-folded sheet of paper at me. "Would you please sign myinterview voucher?"

  In Madame Elaine's organization you had to have a written "excuse" forabsenting yourself from your department during working hours. Isupposed that the paper I signed was no different from the others.Anyway, I was still blinded by the atomic blast of those hazel eyes.

  After she left I got to thinking it was strange that she had me signthe interview receipt. I couldn't remember having done that for anyother department heads.

  I didn't tumble to the pixie's gimmick for a whole month, then Ipicked up the phone one day and the old man spilled the news. "Ithought you were making lipstick over there. What's this call for adcopy on a new bath powder?"

  The incident flashed back in my mind, and rather than admit I had beenby-passed I lied, "You know the Madame. She always gets all she canfor her money."

  The old man muttered, "I don't see taking funds from the lipstickcampaign and splitting them off into little projects like this," hesaid. "Twenty-five thousand bucks would get you one nice spread in thePost, but what kind of a one-s
hot campaign would that be?"

  I mumbled excuses, hung up and screamed for the pixie. My secretarysaid, "Who?"

  "Little sexy-eyes. The Atomic Bath Powder girl."

  Without her name it took an hour to dig her up, but she finally poppedin, plumped down and began giggling. "You found out."

  "How," I demanded, "did you arrange it?"

  "Easy. Madame Elaine's in Paris. She gave you a free hand, didn'tshe?"

  I nodded.

  "Well, when you signed your okay on the Atummyc--"

  "That was an interview voucher!"

  "Not--exactly," she said