Free Tik-Tok by John Sladek

little hobby. Keeps him busy and happy, and he's very good about clearing up the mess afterwards. A man has to have a hobby, doesn't he?"
    "Okey-dokey," said the Judge. He stood up, belched, and reached for his crowbar. His wife got out of the way quickly. In no time, there were two more little junkpiles.
    "Sir," I said in desperation, "maybe you'd like to give me a sporting chance?"
    "What kind of sporting chance?"
    "A little head start, a couple of yards. And you could just chase me around the garden a few laps."
    "What would be the point? I'm going to demolish you anyway." He raised the crowbar.
    "Oh well, if you're feeling too old and tired —"
    "Tired? I'll show you who's tired, ready get set, go!"
    Our peculiar little race began. I hoped there was an outside chance that he might fall dead of a heart attack or something, or at least get too tired to kill me. Instead, I found the old boy to be a strong, sure runner, while my batteries began to drain. I heard his flapping footsteps coming closer and closer, and then, just before the crowbar ended my consciousness, I heard him say, " You're it ."

    Since Teddy Roosevelt was one of Cord's heroes, I posed him next to a stuffed bear. Normally such a portrait would take me about an hour, but I had to pretend to have difficulty in capturing the signs of leadership which I pretended to find in his undistinguished face. It was in fact a face untroubled by any ideas or emotions, the face of a golfer. I knew this meant that he would soon be a general, and I was right. At our third sitting, I had to remove the gold arrows from his portrayed uniform and replace them with silver rosettes.
    "Congratulations, general."
    "It means a move to Washington," he sighed. "But what the hell, a town's only as good as the people in it."
    "Or out of it," I said, pretending to understand. I never understood his garbled maxims, if that's what they were, but I knew how to seem to reply to them.
    "You got it, Tik-Tok, you got it. Intellectually, you're right on my wave beam, you know that? Not many human types are, it's funny I can get through to a robot. Guess it shows, there are robots vastly smarter than the massive herd of people. Too bad you can't come along to Washington, you're good for bouncing ideas off of. In fact—" He scribbled something on a card. "In fact, if you ever feel like a little vacation from your owners and all this art stuff, give me a buzz at the Pentagon and I'll commandeer you."
    "Can that be done?"
    "In the interests of National Security, anything can be done. I'm working at the top echelons, the top echelons. Liaising real close with the President on this."
    "No kidding?"
    "The president has got his eye on yours truly, that's the frank truth of it, Tik-Tok. And you know how it is, when the President jumps. . . ." Cord made a grandiloquent, sweeping gesture with one arm and managed to rap his knuckles on the bear's teeth. I showed him to the bathroom to staunch the bleeding under cold water. Then, bandaids decorated with stars and stripes.

    Up to that time, I'd never thought about politics.

    The papers were full of stories about families of the air crash victims. I picked up a cheap home printer and knocked out a few letters like this:

Dear Mrs Smith:

    So your husband and two kids died in that plane crash. Isn't it too bad. I bet you're all broke up, spending all that insurance money! Let's face it, the whole neighborhood knows how you and your hubby really got along. All I want to know is, who planted the bomb? Was it you, or the guy you been playing around with? Or did hubby find out the kids weren't his, and decide to finally get away from you?
    If there was any justice, the government would have you hanged and burned alive and fed to stray dogs. I may run you over myself some night—be careful crossing the street! As for your three surviving kids, I wouldn't count on them growing up if I was you, ha ha. Killing's too good for them too, but I wouldn't mind hurting