The Book of Philip K Dick (1973) by Philip K. Dick Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Philip K. Dick
Tags: Philip K Dick
reach the next inhabited area. The sun was already beginning to set, the air turning cool; and in addition, he was sopping wet with filth and slimy water. He had slipped in the gloom and fallen in a sewage ditch.
He retraced his steps, mind blank. What could he do? He was helpless; his shiver-gun had been useless. He was alone, and there was no contact with the Arm. Tinkerists swarming on all sides; they’d probably gut him and sprinkle his blood over the crops—or worse.
He skirted a farm. In the fading twilight, a dim figure was working, a young woman. He eyed her cautiously, as he passed; she had her back to him. She was bending over, between rows of corn. What was she doing? Was she— good Elron!
He stumbled blindly across the field toward her, caution forgotten. “Young woman! Stop! In the name of Elron, stop at once!”
The girl straightened up. “Who are you?”
Breathless, Sung-wu arrived in front of her, gripping his battered briefcase and gasping. “Those are our brothers! How can you destroy them? They may be close relatives, recently deceased.” He struck out and knocked the jar from her hand; it hit the ground and the imprisoned beetles scurried off in all directions.
The girl’s cheeks flushed with anger. “It took me an hour to collect those!”
“You were killing them! Crushing them!” He was speechless with horror. “I saw you!”
“Of course.” The girl raised her black eyebrows. “They gnaw the corn.”
“They’re our brothers!” Sung-wu repeated wildly. “Of course they gnaw the corn; because of certain sins committed, the cosmic forces have—” He broke off, appalled. “Don’t you know? You’ve never been told?”
The girl was perhaps sixteen. In the fading light she was a small, slender figure, the empty jar in one hand, a rock
in the other. A tide of black hair tumbled down her neck. Her eyes were large and luminous; her lips full and deep red; her skin a smooth copper-brown—Polynesian, probably. He caught a glimpse of firm brown breasts as she bent to grab a beetle that had landed on its back. The sight made his pulse race; in a flash he was back three years.
“What’s your name?” he asked, more kindly.
“Frija.”
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“I am a Bard; have you ever spoken to a Bard before?”
“No,” the girl murmured. “I don’t think so.”
She was almost invisible in the darkness. Sung-wu could scarcely see her, but what he saw sent his heart into an agony of paroxysms; the same cloud of black hair, the same deep red lips. This girl was younger, of course—a mere child, and from the Farmer class, at that. But she had Liu’s figure, and in time she’d ripen—probably in a matter of months.
Ageless, honeyed craft worked his vocal cords. “I have landed in this area to make a survey. Something has gone wrong with my ship and I must remain the night. I know no one here, however. My plight is such that—”
“Oh,” Frija said, immediately sympathetic. “Why don’t you stay with us, tonight? We have an extra room, now that my brother’s away.”
“Delighted,” Sung-wu answered instantly. “Will you lead the way? I’ll gladly repay you for your kindness.” The girl moved off toward a vague shape looming up in the darkness. Sung-wu hurried quickly after her. “I find it incredible you haven’t been instructed. This whole area has deteriorated beyond belief. What ways have you fallen in? We’ll have to spend much time together; I can see that already. Not one of you even approaches clearness— you’re jangled, every one of you.”
“What does that mean?” Frija asked, as she stepped up on the porch and opened the door.
“Jangled?” Sung-wu bunked in amazement. “We will have to study much together.” In his eagerness, he tripped on the top step, and barely managed to catch himself. “Perhaps you need complete instruction; it may be necessary to start from the very bottom. I can arrange a stay at the Holy
He retraced his steps, mind blank. What could he do? He was helpless; his shiver-gun had been useless. He was alone, and there was no contact with the Arm. Tinkerists swarming on all sides; they’d probably gut him and sprinkle his blood over the crops—or worse.
He skirted a farm. In the fading twilight, a dim figure was working, a young woman. He eyed her cautiously, as he passed; she had her back to him. She was bending over, between rows of corn. What was she doing? Was she— good Elron!
He stumbled blindly across the field toward her, caution forgotten. “Young woman! Stop! In the name of Elron, stop at once!”
The girl straightened up. “Who are you?”
Breathless, Sung-wu arrived in front of her, gripping his battered briefcase and gasping. “Those are our brothers! How can you destroy them? They may be close relatives, recently deceased.” He struck out and knocked the jar from her hand; it hit the ground and the imprisoned beetles scurried off in all directions.
The girl’s cheeks flushed with anger. “It took me an hour to collect those!”
“You were killing them! Crushing them!” He was speechless with horror. “I saw you!”
“Of course.” The girl raised her black eyebrows. “They gnaw the corn.”
“They’re our brothers!” Sung-wu repeated wildly. “Of course they gnaw the corn; because of certain sins committed, the cosmic forces have—” He broke off, appalled. “Don’t you know? You’ve never been told?”
The girl was perhaps sixteen. In the fading light she was a small, slender figure, the empty jar in one hand, a rock
in the other. A tide of black hair tumbled down her neck. Her eyes were large and luminous; her lips full and deep red; her skin a smooth copper-brown—Polynesian, probably. He caught a glimpse of firm brown breasts as she bent to grab a beetle that had landed on its back. The sight made his pulse race; in a flash he was back three years.
“What’s your name?” he asked, more kindly.
“Frija.”
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“I am a Bard; have you ever spoken to a Bard before?”
“No,” the girl murmured. “I don’t think so.”
She was almost invisible in the darkness. Sung-wu could scarcely see her, but what he saw sent his heart into an agony of paroxysms; the same cloud of black hair, the same deep red lips. This girl was younger, of course—a mere child, and from the Farmer class, at that. But she had Liu’s figure, and in time she’d ripen—probably in a matter of months.
Ageless, honeyed craft worked his vocal cords. “I have landed in this area to make a survey. Something has gone wrong with my ship and I must remain the night. I know no one here, however. My plight is such that—”
“Oh,” Frija said, immediately sympathetic. “Why don’t you stay with us, tonight? We have an extra room, now that my brother’s away.”
“Delighted,” Sung-wu answered instantly. “Will you lead the way? I’ll gladly repay you for your kindness.” The girl moved off toward a vague shape looming up in the darkness. Sung-wu hurried quickly after her. “I find it incredible you haven’t been instructed. This whole area has deteriorated beyond belief. What ways have you fallen in? We’ll have to spend much time together; I can see that already. Not one of you even approaches clearness— you’re jangled, every one of you.”
“What does that mean?” Frija asked, as she stepped up on the porch and opened the door.
“Jangled?” Sung-wu bunked in amazement. “We will have to study much together.” In his eagerness, he tripped on the top step, and barely managed to catch himself. “Perhaps you need complete instruction; it may be necessary to start from the very bottom. I can arrange a stay at the Holy