William Johnston: Get Smart!

“Perfect!” Blossom giggled.

Max shrugged modestly. “Possibly,” he said. “Who am I to say?”

“Rorff!” barked Fang, emerging from the corner.

Max laughed. “Very good,” he said.

“What did he say?” Blossom asked.

“I wouldn’t dare repeat it,” Max said. “It was a pun.”

The car stopped at the main floor. Max, Blossom, Fang and Fred stepped out and headed across the lobby.

“Well, it’s clear sailing from here on out,” Max said to Fred. “It’s only a half-hour or so walk from here to the car. Then a five minute drive to Control. After that, you won’t have a worry in the world.”

Fred activated himself. “Computer who think he safe in his own house better take another look under the bed,” he said in his far-away voice.

Max squinted at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“With my brains,” Fred replied, “I know better than to think there’s any where that’s safe.”

“Your fears are groundless,” Max said. “I give you my word.”

“Man gives his word only when he has nothing of value to offer,” Fred intoned.

“Will you stop talking Hollywood Chinese,” Max said. “If you’ve got something on your mind, speak up, tell us what it is.”

“I want to be free,” Fred said.

“And that’s exactly what you’ll be,” Max said. “We’ll lock you up in a cell somewhere, underground, where those Bad Guys can’t get at you, and you’ll be free to work your transistors off, night and day, thinking up new ways to help us Good Guys work out a happy ending to this mess the world’s in. I don’t know what more a computer could ask for-frankly.”

“I’ll be the object of greed, treachery, duplicity-”

“Look, Fred, every job has its drawbacks. On the other hand, you’ll also be the object of admiration, worship, applause. You’ll be getting medals handed out to you right and left. You’ll be a celebrity-within the confines of your own little cell, of course.”

“I don’t want to be a celebrity,” Fred said. “I want to live a simple life. Come and go as I please. Sleep late if I want to. Not shave for a week if I don’t want to. Not-”

“Fred,” Max broke in, “you don’t have a beard, you couldn’t shave if you wanted to.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Fred explained.

“Oh… yeah.”

They left the U.N. Building and walked up the street in the direction of the car.

“Maybe we’d better get a cab,” Blossom suggested. “It’s a long walk to your car.”

Max shook his head. “The car will be safer. There’s not a cab in the city that has a cannon under its left front headlight.”

So they walked on.

“Look, Fred,” Max said, “I sympathize with you. But if we let you go free-as you euphemistically put it-you wouldn’t be free for ten seconds. The FLAG agents would sweep down on you, carry you off, and turn you over to the Bad Guys. When we lock you up in that cell, I want you to know that we’re doing it for your own good. Believe me, I know those Bad Guys. They’d haul you off and lock you up in a cell somewhere. What kind of life would that be for a fun-loving robot?”

“Why can’t I just be me!” Fred groaned.

“Because you have a duty to Mankind!” Max said. “Why do you think Blossom created you?” To Blossom, he said, “Tell Fred why you created him.”

“I’m a single girl,” Blossom explained to Fred. “Actually, I had Rock Hudson in mind.”

“The other reason!” Max snapped.

“Oh. Well, you see, I bought this set for my nephew for his birthday, and I wanted to see-”

“Never mind!” Max broke in. To Fred, he said, “I’ll tell you why she created you. Because… because…” He scowled. “Because she’s a butterfingers, that’s why!” he finally said disgustedly.

“Rorff!” Fang barked.

Max whipped around. “Where? Where?”

“Rorff!”

Max peered back along the street in the direction from which they had come. He squinted, then said, “You’re right, Fang! Good boy!”

“What is it?” Blossom said fearfully.

“Fang has the eyes of an eagle,” Max said.

“But what is it?”

Max pointed. “See that little delicatessen back there… we passed it only a moment ago.”

“Yes… yes…”

“See that man standing there leaning against the window?”

“Yes…”

“And just to the right of him, see that sign?”

“Yes, yes, yes… what is it?”

“It says they’re having a sale on liverwurst,” Max said. “Liverwurst is Fang’s favorite.” He patted Fang’s head. “As soon as this case is closed, we’ll drop back and pick up a pound or two,” he said.

Blossom stared at Max. Then she stared at Fang. Then she turned and walked on ahead alone.

“It’s the pressure of living in constant danger,” Max explained to Fred. “It’s beginning to tell on her. Some people just aren’t cut out for it.”

When Max, Fred and Fang finally reached Max’s automobile, Blossom was in the front seat, on the glove compartment side, peering icily straight ahead.

“Relax,” Max said to her as he and the others got into the car. “Ten minutes from now this will all be a distant memory. At least, that’s the way it is with me. The second a case ends, I forget all about it. I remember in the summer of ’61-”

“Drive!” Blossom growled.

Max switched on the ignition. There was a sound like a backfire.

“Oops!” Max said. He got out and looked at the car that was parked behind his. Then, returning and getting behind the wheel again, he said, “I’ve always claimed these new models didn’t have enough ventilation in front, anyway. The guy who owns that Buick will probably thank me for it.”

He started the engine and turned the car out into traffic.

They had gone no more than a block when Blossom suddenly turned in the seat and looked out the rear window. “That car back there!” she said. “It’s trying to overtake us. It’s darting in and out of traffic!”

Max consulted his rear-view mirror. “You’re jumping to a conclusion,” he said. “That looks like normal New York driving to me.”

There was the zing of a bullet. The rear-view mirror shattered.

“Is that normal!” Blossom shrieked, ducking down, hiding below the seat.

“Nooooooo,” Max said reflectively, “I wouldn’t say that it’s entirely normal. But… sometimes there are extenuating circumstances. Let’s wait it out and see what happens.”

Another bullet whined by the car.

“Do something!” Blossom cried.

“The one thing I’m not going to do is assume the obvious,” Max said. “The traffic is heavy… it’s easy to lose your sense of perspective in heavy traffic. That may be the explanation.”

The car drew up alongside. A bullet whizzed in the front window, which was open, and missed Max’s eyebrows by less than a quarter of an inch.

“Hmmmm,” he mused, “in this instance, the obvious seems to be correct. Well… live and learn.”

Max stepped hard on the accelerator and the car shot forward.

He glanced back. The pursuing automobile was right behind him! Bullets filled the air!

“Fortunately,” Max said, “I’m prepared for such a situation.” Calmly, he turned his attention to the car’s control panel. “Now, let’s see… which is the button for that smoke screen? It was here when I left the garage this morning…”

Bullets splattered against the car!

“Dooooooooo Somethiiiiiiing!” Blossom pleaded.

“Can I help it if I’ve misplaced my smoke screen button? It could happen to anybody. Let’s see… I had the car washed… could it be that… ah, ah… here it is!”

“Push it! Push it!”