Does your wife call you Pumpkinhead? Well, maybeit's not an insult; it might be a pet name.Ah—but whose pet name?
WEAK ON SQUARE ROOTS
By Russell Burton
Illustrated by TOM BEECHAM
As his coach sped throughdusk-darkened Jersey meadows,Ronald Lovegear, fourteen yearswith Allied Electronix, embracedhis burden with both arms, silentlycursing the engineer who was deliberatelyrocking the train. In histhin chest he nursed the convictionthat someday there would be an intelligentrobot at the throttle of the5:10 to Philadelphia.
He carefully moved one handand took a notebook from his pocket.That would be a good thing tomention at the office next Monday.
Again he congratulated himselffor having induced his superiors tolet him take home the company'smost highly developed mechanismto date. He had already forgivenhimself for the little white lie thatmorning.
"Pascal," he had told them, "isa little weak on square roots." Thathad done it!
Old Hardwick would never permitan Allied computer to hit themarket that was not the absolutemaster of square roots. If Lovegearwanted to work on Pascal onhis own time it was fine with theboss.
Ronald Lovegear consulted hiswatch. He wondered if his wifewould be on time. He had toldCorinne twice over the phone tobring the station wagon to meet him.But she had been so forgetful lately.It was probably the new house; sixrooms to keep up without a maidwas quite a chore. His pale eyesblinked. He had a few ideas alongthat line too. He smiled and gavethe crate a gentle pat.
Corinne was at the station,and she had brought the stationwagon. Lovegear managed to getthe crate to the stairs of the coachwhere he consented to the assistanceof a porter.
"It's not really heavy," he toldCorinne as he and the porter waddledthrough the crowd. "Actuallyonly 57 pounds, four ounces. Aluminumcasing, you know ..."
"No, I didn't ..." began Corinne.
"But it's delicate," he continued."If I should drop this ..." He shuddered.
After the crate had been placedlengthwise in the rear of the stationwagon, Corinne watched Ronaldtuck a blanket around it.
"It's not very cold, Ronald."
"I don't want it to get bouncedaround," he said. "Now, please,Corinne, do drive carefully." Notuntil she had driven half a blockdid he kiss her on the cheek. Thenhe glanced anxiously over his shoulderat the rear seat. Once hethought Corinne hit a rut that couldhave been avoided.
Long after Corinne had retiredthat night she heard Ronald poundingwith a brass hammer down inhis den. At first she had insisted hetake the crate out to his workshop.He looked at her with scientificaloofness and asked if she had theslightest conception of what "thisis worth?" She hadn't, and she wentto bed. It was only another one ofhis gestures which was responsiblefor these weird dreams. That nightshe dreamed Ronald brought homea giant octopus which insisted ondoing the dishes for her. In themorning she woke up feeling unwanted.
Downstairs Ronald had alreadyput on the coffee. He was wearinghis robe and the pinched greynessof his face told Corinne he hadbeen up half the night. He pouredcoffee for her, smiling wanly. "IfI have any commitments today,Corinne, will you please see thatthey are taken care of?"
"But you were supposed to getthe wallpaper for t