The ultra-conformist society of the future would seem, by now, to have become a science fiction stereotype. But here is a savage, magnificent story which begins where others stop.
John Peel snapped the shaver back in its slot and pulled down hrs masker. He was late this morning. The Voice gave a melodious whir and said, "You now have ten minutes to catch your car, John." He slid the masker down his cheek, smoothing the pale gray plastic over his face. Halfway down it sputtered, and the liquid came out in uneven drops.
Blast! He fumbled for a fresh tube, took a precious minute to refill the masker. Stripped off the right cheek and started over. Sometimes it could be bonded together, but he didn't want to take a chance on being caught in public with a crack showing.
He gave himself an embarrassed grin at the thought. The mirror with its subliminal message flashing, "You are a handsome and virile male," reassured him. He finished masking, then stared at his face again. His eyes, alive in the gray mask, stared back at him, seemed to ask, "Who am I?" His lips parted slightly and he leaned forward as if to listen for the answer, but there was no reply except the message from the mirror repeating itself a thousand times a second.
The Voice, now strident with alarm, said, "You have five minutes to catch your car!"