The man in the hunting cap (its flaps erect as the ears of a fox terrier) clutched his glass for support and muttered, ‘College boys! B.S., M.S., Ph.D., haw haw haw, stands for…’
Allbright said, ‘So I gave him the address. Friends of mine out West, they’re into the environment. Figured they couldn’t be worse parents than him. Jesus, he doesn’t even care about that kid, doesn’t even all he wanted was some address, stick an addressograph label on the kid and ship him out, not even human himself, just a ghost in a machine all burned out, coked out…’
‘Allbright? Let’s split, you look tired.’
‘Take William Burroughs, inventor of the adding machine, know what he says? Or I mean inventor of the soft machine, know what he says?’
She helped him to his feet while his free hand started flailing, ‘And I quote: “The study of thinking machines teaches us more about the brain than we can ever learn by introspective methods.” Did you know that?’
The crowd parted as it usually does for wild drunks, policemen and other dangers; Allbright continued flailing as they made the door. ‘“The C-charged brain is a berserk pinball machine, flashing blue and pink lights in electric orgasm.” Did you know that?’
Outside in the purple evening he paused to smash his fist into a wall.
‘Stop! Allbright, stop — why do you hate yourself so much? Why can’t you just — stop that!’
‘…burned out, a ghost burning in a machine, the lights all going out, zzzzt, let me out of here. Let me out of here!’
‘We are out, outside. Come on.’
He slumped down. ‘Safer here,’ and slept while she kept watch. The sky blazed with stars, brighter and more disturbing than the imitation sky in Bernie’s Piano Bar (across town), where two others were giving up their watch.
‘What we get depending on outsiders, he’s not gonna show.’
‘We could of handled it ourselves.’
‘Try telling that to the brass.’
The aged pianist had been gently chiding them for an hour for not joining in with the others around the piano. Now, looking directly at them, he said, ‘Come on everybody. Don’t be shy!’
Reluctantly they added their voices to the quavering chorus:
IV
The Shah would trove this memory, would he not? An aerial view of the entire campus, greening with Spring, looking so like one of those clever little silicon chips he was forever reading about. Yes, the clean square buildings represented the little transistors and things, while the roads and footpaths represented the — the other parts. It was even possible to think of the students crawling about down there as information to be progressed, processed rather. He desired strongly that his only son should be processed in a place such as this. But now it was time to put by such thoughts, and concentrate on the tedious task at hand; already his chopper was settling like a golden dragonfly atop the — he checked a map — the Admin building.
Jim hadn’t told her she’d have to scream her speech of welcome over the roar of helicopter blades. But protocol demanded instant recognition:
‘Welcome to the University of Minnetonka! We hope that Your Royal Incomparability will take pleasure from our humble institution.’ Awkward stuff, translated by the Ruritanian consulate.
The Shah was not quite as tall or good-looking as his photographs had previewed. She might not have recognized him but for his splendid uniform: gold lame head to toe, with peacock-feather epaulets. Curtseying, she noticed that even his jackboots had been gilded.
When the mechanical roar died, he said: ‘Please, Dr Boag. Not too much of these ceremony. I hope you will treat me as any ordinary visitation, yes?’
‘Yes of course if your — if you — but this way to the elevator.’
Crowded in with the Shah, his secretary and five enormous bodyguards, she found conversation difficult. It was hard enough even to see him over a padded shoulder, and the smell of pomade (heavy with patchouli) took her breath. When she informed him that the weather was unusually mild and Springlike, not at all like last week’s, he simply beamed and said nothing. When she asked if he’d had a pleasant journey, he nodded. Did he understand? Did he speak English? Was it impolite to talk in elevators in Ruritania? Finally she gave up and consulted her card notes.
He would want to see the library, examine a Ruritanian manuscript, and visit the history department. Then –
He suddenly snatched the card from her hand. After examining it through his lorgnette, he passed it to the secretary, a tiny dark man with bad teeth.
‘It’s simply our itinerary,’ she began, but they were arguing in their exotic language. Or was it arguing? Whatever it was, it continued as they strolled out into the sunshine.
Finally the Shah beamed at her. ‘Forgive our ugly manners, Dr Boag. My secretary wishes me to follow to the letter this thoughtful itinerary you have for us provided. He worries, you see, for the security. I however have other tastes.’ He grimaced so on the word that she fell back a step.
‘I — see. I — well I had planned—’
‘Moment. I must confess that libraries leave me “cold”. And history was never my “strong” subject. But if you will forgive me, there are two things I should admire seeing. The horses’ barns, first of all. And the computers. I greatly admire the computers.’
‘Your Inc — the campus is of course at your disposal. I have a car waiting if you’ll—’
‘No,’ said a guard. He and the others, their faces expressionless behind sunglasses, herded the little party past the official car to another, a long Mercedes with gold fittings.
‘My car,’ said the Shah, and twirled his lorgnette. ‘I am sure you will find it greatly comfy, yes?’
‘Well yes of course, if—’
A guard slapped the door with a giant hand. ‘Is better,’ he threatened. ‘Bombproof.’
Not an auspicious start. She began to envy the committee.
Tarr slammed down the phone as Bud Aikin came in. ‘Great, just great. Tried calling Rogers and he’s off sick. Sick!’
‘You mean he won’t — ?’
‘—be there to steer our proposal through the committee. We’ve just wasted our time — what are you looking so pleased about?’
‘Well, the paper says—’
‘That’s not the worst of it. Only reason I called up Rogers was to get him to change the title on our proposal, too late now. They’ve got it, forty-six copies already in the committee room with that title staring them in the face, why didn’t somebody tell me? Why didn’t you point the acronym out to me, I have to think of everything around here — something amusing, Bud?’
‘No, just, did you see the paper? It says—’
‘Research into Psychically-Oriented Flock Flight, why do I have to do everything my, what paper?’
Aikin held up the Caribou. ‘You know how I predicted another body? A fourth body at the Student Union? Well here it is! Some freshman shot himself right on the steps, how’s that for precognition? Listen: “The body of Bill Hannah, 20…”’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘“…and Wesson .38… cassette suicide note in his pocket. Hannah blamed his failing Grade Point Average, .95 last… member of Digamma Upsilon Nu and son of Dr…” Anyway there it is, my prediction.’