Free Turing & Burroughs: A Beatnik SF Novel by Rudy Rucker

really,” interrupted Katje, her cheeks gone red. “These are no table topics.”
    “Well, it wasn’t me did that to the pooch,” said Vassar with mock primness. “It was Bill. I pulled him off the dog, moved the hookah down to the carpet next to him, and we sailed that funky rug around the Moon and Saturn too. When I came to, I was in Marrakesh. Mislaid Bill along the way.” Vassar gestured extravagantly with his dripping spoon, mapping out the course of his imagined trip. “But let’s turn to a more properly touristic topic. Did you ladies know we’ll be in Madeira tomorrow night? We’re allowed to go ashore for the evening. Charming town, Funchal, I passed through it this summer on my way out from America. I noticed a deluxe restaurant right by the docks there. O Portao . They say the scabbard fish is a pluperfect delight. Bill and I’d be happy to escort you there.”
    “I don’t believe so,” said Frau Pelikaan. “Maybe we see each other across the room and wave hello.”
    “Did I offend you just now?” pressed Vassar. “Katje, let me talk this over with you on the deck. We’ll take a stroll in the moonlight.”
    “I have to wash my dress,” said Katje, getting to her feet. Vassar had managed to flick several drops of velouté sauce onto her bodice.
    “Can’t we let the maid take care of that?” whispered Frau Pelikaan. “We haven’t had dessert.”
    “Stay if you like, mother. I’ll see you in the room.”
    “Oh, very well, I’ll come with you. I want to be sure you hang the dress outside to dry. Our suite is so tiny.” With curt nods at Vassar and Alan the women were off.
    Vassar quickly ordered a brandy for him and a coffee for Alan. “This meal goes onto Frau Pelikaan’s account. I charge the meals to my tablemates and write on a fat tip. The steward loves me.”
    “I must confess that it gives me an agreeable sense of irresponsibility to be in consort with you,” said Alan. “You remind me of a school friend who was expelled for ragging the masters. But that story about the dog...”
    “Could be I pumped it up,” said Vassar, favoring him with a friendly smile. “Just to make them squirm. It was my opinion that you were sniffing the dog’s dick, but it could have been you were merely lying on the floor. Seems like you’ve cleaned up since then.”
    “One could say that,” said Alan. “This has been a very peculiar six months. And, as I say, I don’t really mind your outrageous lines of talk. They hearten me. The social order is, after all, oppressive and absurd. So why not cock a snook?” Vassar seemed to have no idea that this meant to thumb one’s nose, so Alan acted out the gesture, cheerfully waggling his fingers. Right about then, he realized that he could diddle his body’s biochemistry so as to feel some of the same intoxication that Vassar felt. And this he did.
    “Cock a snook,” echoed Vassar, returning the salute. “It’s what I do, yeah. I’m always on the edge of things. Grew up in Jersey City, started work on the docks during high-school, latched onto a mob widow and drove her to Miami. Switched to a music teacher down there, then broke off on my own. I see things my own way.”
    “How come you’re called Vassar?” asked Alan, almost flirtatiously. “Isn’t that a name of a woman’s college?”
    “My Mom’s bright idea,” said Vassar with a short laugh. “Really we’re from Spanish Jewish stock, not that I go pushing that line in Morocco. Mom wanted to lay some class on me, so she picked that name Vassar. She knew it was upper crust.”
    Alan felt more and more attracted to this man. On a sudden impulse, he verbalized the emotion.
    “I could fall in love with you, Vassar.”
    “Thanks, Bill, very kind of you to say that,” replied Vassar, patting Alan’s hand. “But I like my chances with that Belgian chick. Those beaky lips. Peck, peck! Maybe I could bring Vrouw Pelikaan into the mix. Squaaawk! I’m overdue for some