John Sladek: The Complete Roderick

‘No, well oddly enough, it’s selling very well and so far nobody seems to notice. The bookstore figures show we could even reprint.’ He opened another folder and sat back, causing the striped collar of his shirt to crackle. ‘That’s not important now. What I really wanted to do was launch a more foolproof scheme, total computer authorship.’

Moxon looked surprised. ‘But I thought—’

‘Computers weren’t ready? Not to produce works of “lasting literary significance”, no, but to write big bucks books, yes. Naturally we keep the authorship under wraps, create a persona using a photo of a model, a fake bio — even, if necessary, an actor to appear on TV. I’ve talked it over with Mel Zell at—’

‘Wait a minute, hold on there. I’m not at all sure about leaving out the human touch like that, the author is very—’

‘The author is one big problem for everybody,’ said Mill ‘When you’re trying to orchestrate a big, complex deal, bringing together all the elements of the package each in the right quantity at the right time, the author just gets in the way. When I architected a certain big property a few years ago with Sol Alter, we started with a one-line idea. Then we got a big-name star interested in appearing in a movie, that enabled us to bootstrap a six-figure plus movie deal, and with all that we had something to take to the publishers. We landed a seven-figure paperback deal and from there on had no problem getting all we wanted out of magazine serialization, book club, foreign and cassette rights, direct cable specials, options for a TV series, syndicated comics, t-shirts, board games, colouring books and so on. Then we fixed the music and wrapped up those rights. And then and only then did we finally hire an author to hack out the screenplay and book, the fictionalization. We paid him I think two grand and no comebacks. That book, Mr Moxon, was Boy and Girl.’

The interior decorator, who had been quietly walking around the office, now cleared his throat.

‘What is it?’

‘This apostle clock on the wall — it’ll have to go, Mr Moxon. For one thing, it’s an obvious fake.’

‘Fine, take it away.’ Moxon turned to Jud Mill, who was now collecting his folders. ‘I’d feel better about this computer author if I could see a sample of its work.’

‘What good would that do? Oh all right, here.’

Moxon took the piece of paper and studied it for a minute. ‘This some kind of joke, Jud? It’s not even spelled right, looks like some six-year-old batted this out during recess.’

‘No, well, our market research has been pretty darn thorough, and all the indications are that this is the coming thing, as the literacy level of the public keeps dropping, the demand is for more regressive stuff, fairy tales, basic English, short sentences…’

‘But Jesus, this is, well just listen: “Once upon a time there was a boy. He had a Ma and a Pa, and they all lived in a little white house on the edge of Somewhere. The boy’s name was Danny Sunshine, because he was allways smiling warm. Danny was only a poor boy, but he was honest and good, people could see that. One day he was wandering in the Somewhere Woods with his dog Lion. Lion was scratching in some leafs and he found an old rusty sword. ‘I’ll take it home and clean it up!’ Danny thought to himself. ‘Then I can read this funny writing on the blade, under the rust. Maybe if I keep this sword till I grow up, I can be a real nite!’ So He –” The public demands this? This?’

Jud Mill shrugged. ‘That’s it. The competition already has something like this in the pipeline… space opera about robots, so I hear…’

‘Great, okay, don’t tell me any more, go ahead with a pilot project, I’ll bring it up at the board.’

As Jud left, Ann looked in. ‘General Fleischman’s on line three.’

‘Christ… Yes hello General, thank you, thanks… No of course we still want you on the board, no great changes just yet. we have our commitments after all… yes well I will, and you give mine to Gerda too, bye… Andy? Make a note, we’ve got to convene a special meeting of the board to fire General Fleischman before the old shithead loses another sixty million… oh and what’s this memo about some nut religion suing us. what’s the state of play there? Because I don’t see any KUR counter-suit. Not only that, things seem to be snarled up there, the lawyers acting for this Church of Plastic Jesus are also acting for us, that right? Honcho and Moonbrand are on KUR’s payroll, how can they represent, yes get our legal department to look into this, Swann, get Swann. And somebody come in here for dictation and bring the figures on Katrat Fun Foods…’

Behind him the decorator, having removed the wooden clock from the wall, was examining a dark stain now revealed: blood? Ink? Oil?

Roderick spent an hour in the hospitality suite, playing poker with the reporters, watching them drink champagne and stuff their pockets with xeroxed press releases. He couldn’t think what to do next, where to go, what to be.

Someone turned on the large-screen TV, and there was a man in dark glasses, handcuffed to two policemen, but sitting at a table before a microphone and smiling for the cameras.

‘Jeez,’ said one reporter. ‘I wish I was there.’

‘Shh,’ said another, turning up the volume. A cop spoke:

‘… eakthrough came when I realized I’d seen this guy’s M.O. before. I had a hunch the Lucky Legs Killer and the Campus Ripper were one and the same — and when I tied in the Snowman Murder, I knew it was only a matter of time. Sooner or later our killer would make one mistake too many…’

‘But Chief, didn’t your prisoner turn himself in?’

‘Well yes, matter of fact he did, but we regard that as a publicity stunt. He hopes to create a favourable impression, to get his bail lowered. ’

‘Like to ask the prisoner how he feels about killing all those women and cutting off their legs with an electric carving knife?’

‘How do I feel? The prisoner nodded and smiled. ‘That’s a valid question. You’re after tangible motivation, right? Gut reaction? Well, I wish I could give you a simple answer, but first I’d have to clarify a few concepts myself: That clarification could involve a thoroughgoing process evolving in context and circumstance, exploring the infrastructure of any particularized situation according to well-defined parameters, without of course rejecting in advance those options which, in a broader perspective, might be seen to underpin any meaningful discussion attempting to cut through the appropriate interface, right?’

‘You felt mixed up?’

‘He feels like reducing his bail,’ said the cop.

The prisoner said, ‘That’s not what I said. I said there’s no point in talking about my feelings, because to talk about anyone’s feelings you have to make a distinction between subjective reality and objective reality — and it was just that distinction, that interface, that I was exploring!’

After that, he fell silent and ate yoghurt, while the policeman handled questions about the influence of TV violence, the psychology of the mass murderer, the thankless role of the policeman in modern society. Roderick’s attention was already beginning to wander, when someone called from the balcony:

‘Come on out here, you guys! Look at that!’

They all went out, and dutifully looked down over the rail. A giant metal dish was hanging on bundles of ropes, being pulled inch by inch up the side of the building.

‘What the hell is it? A dish antenna? For what?’

‘Moxon Music Systems,’ said a press office aide. ‘You must have noticed there was no music in the elevator? Or anywhere else. Well when we get this set up, we’ll be able to pick it up from our own satellite, and run it to every room in the building.’