Solar Lottery by Philip K. Dick Read Free Book Online Page A

tv?”
    “As a matter of fact it was.” Laura frowned resentfully. “That awful Sam Oster talked about it the whole length of a program. He’s that rabble-rouser who has such a big following among the unks.”
    “I’m afraid I don’t know him,” Benteley admitted.
    On the tv, glorious ads played back and forth like liquid fire. One after another they rose, hung for an instant, and then dropped away. Ads were the highest art-form; the finest creative talent was at work behind them. Ads combined color, balance, rhythm, and a restless aliveness that pulsed from the screen and into the cozy Davis living room. From hidden hi-fi speakers mounted within the walls random combinations of accompanying sound drifted.
    “The Convention,” Davis said, indicating the screen. “They’re advertising for applicants and giving quite a bonus.”
    A vortex of foaming light and color-texture lapping across the screen symbolized the Challenge Convention. The billowing mass broke apart, held, and reformed in new combinations.A pattern of unusually excited spheres danced their way across, and the accompanying music rose to a fever pitch.
    “What’s it saying?” Benteley asked.
    “I can switch to the l-Channel, if you want. Then you’ll have it straight.”
    Laura hurried in with silver and china for the table. “Don’t put that l-Channel on; all the unks watch that. That’s why they have it both ways, this for us and the literal for them.”
    “You’re wrong, honey,” Al said seriously. “The l-Channel is for news and factual information. The s-Channel is for pleasure. I enjoy watching it this way, but—” He waved his hand and the circuit switched abruptly. The vivid swirls of color and sound winked out. In their place the placid features of the Westinghouse news announcer appeared. “Here’s the same thing.”
    Laura set the table and returned to the kitchen in a flurry of activity. The living room was friendly and comfortable. One wall was transparent; below the house stretched out the city of Berlin clustered around the Farben Hill, a vast towering center cone, black against the night sky. Bits of cold light drifted and rushed in the gloom: surface cars dancing like yellow sparks in the chill night shadows, disappearing into the vast cone like incandescent moths into the chimney of a cosmic lamp.
    “How long have you been in fealty to Verrick?” Benteley asked Al Davis.
    Al tore himself away from the tv screen; it was now describing new experiments in C-plus reactors. “What’s that, Ted? I guess about three or four years.”
    “You’re satisfied?”
    “Sure, why not?” Al gestured around the pleasant, well-furnished living room. “Who wouldn’t be satisfied?”
    “I’m not talking about this. I had the same thing over at Oiseau-Lyre; most classified people have set-ups like this. I’m talking about Verrick.”
    Al Davis struggled to catch Benteley’s drift. “I never see Verrick. He’s been at Batavia, up until today.”
    “You knew I’d sworn in to Verrick?”
    “You told me this afternoon.” Davis’ kindly face beamed up at Benteley, relaxed and untroubled. “I hope that means you’ll be moving over here.”
    “Why?”
    Davis blinked. “Well, because then we’ll see more of you and Julie.”
    “I haven’t been living with Julie for six months,” Benteley said impatiently. “That’s all off. She’s on Jupiter as some sort of work-camp official.”
    “Well, I didn’t know. I haven’t seen you for a couple of years. I was as surprised as hell to see your face on the ipvic.”
    “I came over with Verrick and his staff.” Benteley’s voice hardened with irony. “When Oiseau-Lyre released me I headed directly for Batavia. I wanted to get out of the Hill system once and for all. I went straight to Reese Verrick.”
    “You did the right thing.”
    “Verrick tricked me! He was quacked, out of the Directorate completely. I knew somebody was bidding up the Hills, somebody with plenty of