Counter-Clock World by Philip K. Dick Read Free Book Online

imaginary.
    “And what is more—” Appleford churned on, but at this point he was interrupted. Hesitantly, but with determination, Mrs. Hermes spoke up.
    “Do you think it would be to the advantage of Ray Roberts to have the Anarch reborn?”
    For a time Appleford pondered that; it was a good question, and it showed him that despite her reticence and shyness Mrs. Hermes had a good deal on the ball.
    “Because of the Hobart Phase,” he said finally, “the tide of history is with the Anarch and against Ray Roberts. The Anarch died in late middle-age; he will be that when he’s reborn, and he will develop progressively into greater and greater vitality and creativity—for thirty years, anyhow. Ray Roberts is only twenty-six. The Hobart Phase is carrying him back to adolescence; when Peak is at his prime, Roberts will be a child, searching for a handy womb.
All Peak has to do is wait.
No,” he decided, “it wouldn’t be to Roberts’ advantage.” And that, he said to himself, Carl Gantrix had abundantly demonstrated . . . by his avid desire to know where the Anarch’s body lay.
    “My husband,” Mrs. Hermes said in her sweet, earnest voice, “is the owner of a vitarium.” She glanced at Officer Tinbane, as if asking him whether she should continue.
    Tinbane cleared his throat and said, “I gather that the Flask of Hermes Vitarium anticipates Peak’s rebirth momentarily or anyhow within a reasonably short time-period. Technically, it would be incumbent on any vitarium that gets him to offer Peak to the Uditi. But, as we can both gather from Mrs. Hermes’ question, there is some doubt—and on good grounds— as to whether that would be in the Anarch’s best interest.”
    “If I understand the way the vitaria operate,” Appleford said, “they generally list who they have, and the highest bidder gets it. Is that the case, Mrs. Hermes?”
    She ducked her head, nodding yes.
    “It’s really not up to you,” Appleford said, “or your husband, to moralize. You’re in business; you locate deaders ready to be reborn, and you sell your product for what the market will carry. Once you start poking into the issue of which
morally
is the best customer—”
    “Our salesman, R.C. Buckley, always looks into the morality,” Mrs. Hermes said, with sincerity.
    “Or so he says,” Tinbane said.
    “Oh,” she assured him, “I’m positive he does; he spends a lot of his time studying the customers’ backgrounds; he really does.”
    There was an appropriate interval of silence.
    “You do not,” Appleford said to Mrs. Hermes, “want to know where the Anarch’s body lies buried? That’s not—”
    “Oh, we know that,” Mrs. Hermes said in her grave, honest little voice; Tinbane started visibly and looked annoyed.
    Appleford said to her, “Mrs. Hermes, you probably shouldn’t tell anyone you know that.”
    “Oh,” she said, and flushed. “I’m sorry.”
    Appleford went on, “Someone from the Uditi was in here just prior to you, trying to find that out. If anyone approaches you—” he leaned toward her, speaking slowly, so as to impress it on her, “—don’t tell them. Don’t even tell me.”
    “Or me,” Tinbane said.
    Mrs. Hermes, looking as if she was about to cry, said chokingly, “I’m sorry; I guess I screwed everything up. I always do.”
    To Mrs. Hermes, Officer Tinbane said, “Have you told anybody else, Lotta?”
    She shook her head, wordlessly, no.
    “Okay.” Tinbane nodded to Appleford in shared agreement. “Probably no harm done yet. But they’ll be trying to find out. They may canvass all the vitariums; you better discuss this with Seb and with your employees. You understand, Lotta?”
    Again she nodded, this time yes; her large dark eyes glinted with repressed tears.

5
    Love is the end and quiet cessation of the natural
motion of all moving things, beyond which no motion
continues.
    —Erigena
    At three in the afternoon Officer Tinbane reported to his superior, George