Book publicerad 1980-talet - högskolestudent som absorberar en "kristallin" främling

Bok jag läste när jag var yngre

Dörröppningar i sanden , en roman från 1976 av < a href="http://www.isfdb.org/cgi-bin/ea.cgi?69"> Roger Zelazny .

som hade nyckelpersonen som en universitetsstudent som var en evig student vars kostnader var täckta av en farbror som sattes i cryostas. Så länge som barnet var en heltidsstudent, betalade den frusna farbror räkningen.

Från Wikipedia-sammanfattningen :

The will of Fred Cassidy’s cryogenically-frozen uncle provides him with a generous stipend to attend the university until he is awarded an academic degree. By carefully choosing his courses and changing majors, Fred avoids mandatory graduation for thirteen years. He meets with his new academic counselor, Dennis Wexroth, who is infuriated by what he calls Fred’s “dronehood” and threatens to send him off into to the real world by graduating Fred in the coming semester. Fred, however, finds a way to get enough credits in different majors to avoid graduation.

Barnet somnar i en fest med några vänner och har uppenbarligen en "kristall" som försvinner, och han börjar höra saker.

Sammanfattning av Wikipedia-diagram fortsätter:

Fred goes to his apartment and finds it ransacked. He examines the apartment, but finds nothing missing. Paul Byler, Fred’s geology teacher comes out of a closet. He slaps Fred around demanding the return of a replica he made of the crystalline star-stone. Byler is a world-renowned expert in crystallography and says he makes copies of the star-stone in order to sell them as novelty items. Fred states that the replica is not in the apartment and maybe his ex-roommate has it. Byler does not believe Fred. After a brief fight Fred escapes through a window to an outside ledge.

Om minnet tjänar var det rim som "hör du mig fred" och andra som det.

Romans början:

Lying, left hand for a pillow, on the shingled slant of the roof, there in the shade of the gable, staring at the cloud-curdles in afternoon's blue pool, I seemed to see, between blinks, above the campus and myself, an instant piece of sky-writing:

DO YOU SMELL ME DED? I read.

Från kapitel 2:

Walking past a darkened bakery. Play of night and light on glass. DO YOU TASTE ME BRED? I read. I hesitated, turned, saw where shadows had anagrammatized a bake sale, sniffed, hurried on.

Från kapitel 3:

Flashes and imaginings . . . "Do you hear me, Fred? Do you hear me, Fred?" Water, trickling down my throat. Another blackness. Flash. Water, on my face, in my mouth. Movement. Shadows. A moaning . . .

Moaning. Shadows, a lesser black. Flash. Flashes. A light through parted lashes, dim. The ground below, passing. The moaning, mine.

"Do you hear me, Fred?"

"Yes," I said, "yes . . ."

The movement ceased. I overheard an exchange in a language I did not recognize. Then the ground rose. I was deposited upon it.

"Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

"Yes, yes. I already said 'yes.' How many times—"

"Yes, he appears to be awake"—this superfluous comment in a voice that I recognized as that of my friend the wombat.