Eye in the Sky (1957) by Philip K. Dick Read Free Book Online Page B

wind.” Sadly, he added, “I can’t seem to stand the
steady grind, the way I used to. I crawl in here a couple times a day … to get back my strength.”
    “I’ve left California
Maintenance,” Hamilton said. “Oh?”
Tillingford nodded. “Good for you. That’s a bad place. Too much
emphasis on guns. They’re not scien tists;
they’re government employees.”
    “I didn’t quit. I was
fired.” In a few words, Hamilton explained
the situation.
    For a little while Tillingford said
nothing. Thoughtfully, he picked at a front tooth, wrinkled brow pulled
together in a frown of concentration. “I remember Marsha. Sweet girl. I
always liked her. There’s so darn much of this security-risk stuff these days.
But we don’t have to worry about that here. No government contracts at present.
Ivory tower.” He chuckled drily. “Last remnant of pure
research.”
    “You suppose you could use
me?” Hamilton asked, as
dispassionately as possible.
    “I don’t see why not.”
Idly, Tillingford got out a small religious prayer wheel and began spinning it.
“I’m familiar with your work … I wish we could have got hold of you sooner, as a matter of fact.”
    Fascinated, hypnotized with
disbelief, Hamilton stared fixedly at Tillingford’s prayer wheel.
    “Of course, there’re the
regular questions,” Tillingford observed, spinning. “The routine . .
. but you won’t have to fill out the written forms. I’ll ask you orally. You
don’t drink, do you?”
    Hamilton
floundered. “Drink?”
    “This business about Marsha
poses a certain problem. We’re not concerned with the security aspect, of
course … but I will have to ask you this. Jack, tell me truthfully.”
Reaching into his pocket, Tillingford got out a black-bound volume, gold-stamped Bayan of the Second Bab, and handed it to Hamilton. “In college,
when you two were mixed up in radical groups, you didn’t practice—shall I say,
‘free love?”
    Hamilton had no answer. Mute, dazed,
he stood holding the Bayan of the Second Bab; it was still warm from
Tillingford’s coat pocket. A pair of EDA’s bright young men had come quietly
into the room; they now stood respectfully watching. Dressed in long white lab
smocks, they seemed curiously solemn and
obedient. Their smooth-cropped skulls reminded him of the polls of young
monks … odd that he had never noticed how much the popular crewcut
resembled the ancient ascetic practice of
religious orders. These two men were certain ly typical of bright young
physicists; where was their usual brashness?
    “And while we’re at it,”
Doctor Tillingford said, “I might as well ask you this. Jack, my boy, hold
onto that Bayan and tell me truthfully. Have you found the One True Gate to
blessed salvation?”
    All eyes were on him. He swallowed,
flushed beet-red, stood helplessly
struggling. “Doctor,” he managed finally, “I think I’ll
come back some other time.”
    Concerned, Tillingford removed his
glasses and carefully eyed the younger man. “Jack, don’t you feel
well?”
    “I’ve been under a lot of
strain. Losing my job …” Hastily, Hamilton added: “And other
difficulties. Marsha and I were in an accident, yesterday. A new deflector went
wrong and bathed us with hard radiation, over at the Bevatron.”
    “Oh, yes,” Tillingford
agreed. “I heard about that. Nobody killed, fortunately.”
    ‘Those eight people,” one of
his ascetic young technicians put in, “must have walked with the Prophet.
That was a long drop.”
    “Doctor,” Hamilton said
hoarsely, “could you recommend a good psychiatrist?”
    A slow, incredulous glaze settled
over the elderly scientist’s face. “A—what? Are you out of your
head, boy?”
    “Yes,”
Hamilton answered. “Apparently.”
    “We’ll discuss this
later,” Tillingford said shortly, in a choked voice. Impatiently, he waved
his two technicians out of the room. “Go down to the mosque,” he
told them. “Meditate until I call for you.”
    They