“About the administration,” E.J. said, questioningly.
Gorste considered for a moment, pouting. “At the moment, hypodermic… intravenous, in fact. But Weyland is working on a gastric absorption type which can be taken in tablet form. We don’t know yet whether it will be effective that way.”
“Let’s assume it will be,” E.J. pronounced dogmatically. “As I see it we shall soon be able to go into full production on a sterility tablet which will make the problem of birth control and contraception obsolete. One tablet and a glass of water will provide absolute security against pregnancy for six months.” A pause, while she rotated her eyes like radar antennae and focused them upon a slender bald-headed man seated halfway down the table on the opposite side from Gorste.
“Mr. Gosling,” she said firmly. “The product must have a name.”
Gosling shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Gorste recognized him as a member of the advertising agency handling the Biochemix Incorporated account. He was probably the account executive, to judge by his uneasiness.
“We’ve worked hard on it, E.J.,” Gosling stated. “A product of this type must have a dignified name, one which suggests its function yet at the same time is in no way salacious, or capable of misinterpretation, either deliberately or other wise. A strong name, easy to remember, and simple. Above all, a selling name. The kind of name that people wouldn’t feel ashamed to ask for in a shop.”
“Well?”
“It must also be the kind of name which can be used in advertising without descriptive copy. The one word by itself must tell the whole story. Only in that way would any kind of consumer advertising be ethically permissible.”
“Agreed. Have you thought of a name?”
Gosling hesitated, licking his lips briefly. “Yes, E.J. It’s a good name. We’ve vetted it from every angle. It will sell. It doesn’t offend in any way. It can be used for single-word advertising.”
“Yes…?”
“Sterilin.”
E.J. paused, eyeing Gosling thoughtfully. “Sterilin,” she murmured slowly, as if savouring the feel of the word on her tongue. “Sterilin.” She became brisk in manner. “That’s a good name, Mr. Gosling. Excellent. Your agency has done a good job.”
Gosling brightened perceptibly. Self-assurance dawned in his eyes. He shrugged and smiled. “Naturally we put in a great deal of work on it, E.J. More than two hundred names, and we eliminated all but one. We even drew up a rough logotype.”
He fumbled beneath his chair and produced a briefcase from which he extracted a rectangle of cardboard covered by a sheet of flimsy paper. He passed it across the table to E.J. She lifted the flimsy and studied the neat flowing lettering painted on the card.
“Not bad,” she observed. “Too modern and streamlined if anything.”
Gosling coughed drily. “We tried to make it look a little… well, what you might call racy. Zest, youthfulness, energy. After all, birth control is only one half of the sales story. Sterilin has a more positive selling angle: uninhibited enjoyment of the pleasures of life.” He stroked his bald head, watching E.J. anxiously.
E.J. glanced towards a thick-set mustached man whom Gorste recognized as Dewer, the company’s sales manager. “What do you think, Mr. Dewer?”
“Risky policy,” Dewer stated briefly, moving his mustache almost imperceptibly. “Mustn’t suggest such a thing in either advertising or packaging.”
“We don’t suggest anything,” Gosling insisted. “It’s a simple matter of lettering style. In the draft logotype we’ve adopted a gay youthful form of script. The implications are on a purely psychological level.”
Dewer reached across the table for the card and studied it doubtfully. “Could be. What’s the alternative?”
“Something staid and old-fashioned, something like you’d find on a bottle of family cough mixture.”
Dewer returned the card to E.J. “I like it,” he affirmed. “It does exactly as Gosling says. It’s racy. It suggests fun. That mightn’t be a bad angle for a sales campaign.”
E.J. nodded, then turned her sea-green eyes towards Gorste. “The tablets,” she said, “must be pleasant to take, with nothing medicinal about them. Pleasant to the taste… invigorating. With fizz, perhaps.”
“You mean an effervescent coating,” said Gorste. “That could be arranged.”
“And white in colour to suggest purity.”
Gosling shook his head. “I would suggest red. It has warmth; it creates a suitable atmosphere.”
E.J. regarded him sternly. “Mr. Gosling, we are not marketing an aphrodisiac. Sterilin is to be a prestige product, and we don’t need to be too racy. I still think the logotype is suggestive in the wrong way. It needs restraint. The script should be a thinner line, and more upright.”
“If you say so, E.J.”
“But I like the name. It is most suitable. Make a note of it, Dewer. ‘Sterilin — for modern feminine hygiene.’”
“Hygiene?” Dewer queried.
“It can hardly be described in any other way without making offensive implications.”
“Why describe it at all, E.J.?” said Gosling. “The word Sterilin is enough. It arouses curiosity and it implies its purpose. Any further information can be obtained at the point of sale.”
“Not in the first instance. The product has to be established. It has to be forced onto the market. The public has to be told about it through the usual advertising media.”
“Then something simple… enigmatic. How about: ‘Secure for Six Months — Sterilin. Ask at your local druggist?’”
“On the beam” Dewer remarked with enthusiasm. “That would start them asking.”
“It has to be angled at women,” E.J. said.
“Not necessarily. Men have a fifty percent interest in this product.”
“But women will use it.”
Gosling said: “We could have an introductory headline. For women only.”
“That would make the men read it,” said Dewer.
“And the women, too. All of them. There’s a clannishness about women, a kind of invisible freemasonry.”
“I hadn’t noticed it,” E.J. remarked sardonically. “But I think Gosling is right. ‘For women only: Security for Six Months — Sterilin — Ask at your local druggist.’ I like that. What about you, Dewer?”
“Not bad at all; good, in fact.”
“Very well. We have the outline of a possible advertising campaign. It strikes the right note and will stimulate curiosity. Provided the product lives up to its promise we shall have a best seller.”
E.J. looked around the table with a gleam of subdued satisfaction in her green eyes. She paused as she looked at Gorste, and he thought he could detect something provocative in the way she regarded him. It was not an unpleasant feeling, and, in fact, he found it vaguely flattering. An instant later her eyes moved on, leaving him suddenly desolated.
“Packaging,” E.J. pronounced solemnly. Her gaze settled on a slender bleached cadaver of a man leaning mournfully over a cardboard folder fat with papers.
“Pettifer,” she said. “What have you done about it?” Pettifer stroked the polished table top with spidery fingers. “Very little, E.J. After all, what have we got to package at this stage? A dead monkey or two.”
E. J’s lips tightened into a thin ruby line, then relaxed slowly. “You’re being obstructive, Pettifer. We are looking ahead, thinking in terms of a tablet product which has to be packaged attractively, discreetly and in a distinctive wow.”
“I know, E.J.,” said Pettifer wanly. “I’ve had several sessions with the advertising agency on the subject” He hooked a bony thumb towards Gosling. “With Mr. Gosling in particular.”