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

funds. I wanted nothing to do with it—and now look.” Benteley’s resentment increased. “Instead of getting away from it, I’m where it’s dirtiest. It’s the last place on Earth I wanted to be.”
    Indignation crept into Davis’ tolerant face. “Some of the nicest people I know are Verrick’s serfs.”
    “They’re people who don’t care how they make their money.”
    “You want to penalize Verrick because he’s a success? He’s made this Hill
run.
Is it his fault nobody else can operate like he can? There’s a natural selection and evolution. Those who can’t survive fall by the way.”
    “Verrick fired our research labs.”
    “Our? Say, you’re with Verrick, now.” Davis’ indignationboiled over. “That’s a hell of a way to talk! Verrick is your protector and you’re standing here—”
    “All right, boys,” Laura exclaimed, cheeks flushed with domestic prowess. “Dinner’s on the table, and I want you to go get some chairs for us to sit on. Al, you wash your hands before we eat. And put on your shoes.”
    “Sure, honey,” Davis said obediently, getting to his feet.
    “Can I help?” Benteley asked.
    “Just find yourself a chair and sit down. We have real coffee. Do you take cream? I can’t remember.”
    “Yes,” Benteley said. “Thanks.” He pulled up a couple of chairs and sat down moodily.
    “Don’t look so sad,” Laura said to him. “See what you’re getting to eat. Aren’t you living with Julie any more? I’ll bet you eat out all the time, at restaurants where they serve that awful protine stuff.”
    Benteley toyed with his knife and fork. “You have a nice place here,” he said presently. “When I saw you last you were living in a Hill dorm. But you weren’t married then.”
    “Remember when you and I were living together?” Laura began cutting the twine that held the rolled-roast together.
    “That wasn’t more than a month, as I remember.”
    “A little under a month,” Benteley agreed, remembering back. He relaxed somewhat, thawed by the smell of hot food, the bright living room, the pretty woman sitting across from him. “That’s when you were still under fealty to Oiseau-Lyre, before you lost your classification.”
    Al appeared, sat down, unfolded his napkin, and rubbed his hands together with anticipation. “It sure smells good,” he announced. “Let’s get going; I’m starved.”
        While they ate, the tv murmured and spilled out a flickering tide of light into the living room. Benteley listened between conversations, his mind only half on what Laura and Al were saying.
    “… Quizmaster Cartwright has announced the dismissal of two hundred Directorate employees,” the announcer was saying. “The reason given is b.s.r.”
    “Bad security risk,” Laura murmured, sipping her coffee. “That’s what they always say.”
    The announcer continued:
    … Convention plans are booming. Already, hundreds of thousands of applications are flooding the Convention Board and the Westinghouse Hill office. Reese Verrick, the former Quizmaster, has agreed to handle the multiplying technical details in order to set in motion what promises to be the most exciting and spectacular event of the decade …
    “You bet,” Al said. “Verrick has that Hill under lock. He’ll have this thing humming.”
    “Is old Judge Waring still sitting on the Board?” Laura asked him. “He must be a hundred years old, by now.”
    “He’s still on the Board. He won’t resign, not until he’s dead. That crusty old fossil! He ought to get out of the way and let somebody younger take over.”
    “But he knows everything about the Challenge,” Laura said. “He’s kept it all on a high moral plane. I remember when I was a little girl still in school; that Quizmaster was quacked, that funny one who stuttered. And that good-looking young man got in, that black-haired assassin who made such a wonderful Quizmaster. And old Judge Waring set up the Board and ruled over the