The Complete Roderick by John Sladek

Awkwardly he supported her as she rose and wobbled to the door, blind to faces turning with momentary curiosity, deaf to the thumping of the juke box …
    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 beworse 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:
… and I’ll put them all together
    With some wire and some glue
    And I’ll get more lovin’ from the dumb, dumb, dummy
    Than I’ll ever get from you
    (Get out and waaaaalk, baby).

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