The Short Happy Life of the Brown Oxford and Other Classic Stories by Philip K. Dick Read Free Book Online

about me. I’m your friend, your secret friend. They won’t be interested in hearing about me. I’m not going to hurt you, remember. You have nothing to fear. I’m going to live right here, with you.”
    It watched the boy intently, lingering over the last words.
    “I’m going to be a sort of private teacher. I’m going to teach you things, things to do, things to say. Just like a tutor should. Will you like that?”
    Silence.
    “Of course you’ll like it. We could even begin now. Perhaps you want to know the proper way to address me. Do you want to learn that?”
    “Address you?” Bobby stared down.
    “You are to call me…” The figure paused, hesitating. It drew itself together, proudly. “You are to call me—My Lord.”
    Bobby leaped up, his hands to his face.
    “My Lord,” the figure said relentlessly. “My Lord. You don’t really need to start now. I’m tired.” The figure sagged. “I’m almost run down. Please wind me up again in about an hour.”
    The figure began to stiffen. It gazed up at the boy. “In an hour. Will you wind me tight? You will, won’t you?”
    Its voice trailed off into silence.
    Bobby nodded slowly. “All right,” he murmured. “All right.”
     
    It was Tuesday. The window was open, and warm sunlight came drifting into the room. Bobby was away at school; the house was silent and empty. The stuffed animals were back in the closet.
    My Lord lay on the dresser, propped up, looking out the window, resting contentedly.
    There came a faint humming sound. Something small flew suddenly into the room. The small object circled a few times and then came slowly to rest on the white cloth of the dresser-top, beside the metal soldier. It was a tiny toy airplane.
    “How is it going?” the airplane said. “Is everything all right so far?”
    “Yes,” My Lord said. “And the others?”
    “Not so good. Only a handful of them managed to reach Children.”
    The soldier gasped in pain.
    “The largest group fell into the hands of Adults. As you know, that is not satisfactory. It is very difficult to control Adults. They break away, or they wait until the spring is unwound—”
    “I know.” My Lord nodded glumly.
    “The news will most certainly continue to be bad. We must be prepared for it.”
    “There’s more. Tell me!”
    “Frankly, about half of them have already been destroyed, stepped on by Adults. A dog is said to have broken up one. There’s no doubt of it: our only hope is through Children. We must succeed there, if at all.”
    The little soldier nodded. The messenger was right, of course. They had never considered that a direct attack against the ruling race, the Adults, would win. Their size, their power, their enormous stride would protect them. The toy vender was a good example. He had tried to break away many times, tried to fool them and get loose. Part of the group had to be wound at all times to watch him, and there was that frightening day when he failed to wind them tight, hoping that—
    “You’re giving the Child instructions?” the airplane asked. “You’re preparing him?”
    “Yes. He understands that I’m going to be here. Children seem to be like that. As a subject race they have been taught to accept; it’s all they can do. I am another teacher, invading his life, giving him orders. Another voice, telling him that—”
    “You’ve started the second phase?”
    “So soon?” My Lord was amazed. “Why? Is it necessary, so quickly?”
    “The factory is becoming anxious. Most of the group has been destroyed, as I said.”
    “I know.” My Lord nodded absently. “We expected it, we planned with realism, knowing the chances.” It strode back and forth on the dresser-top. “Naturally, many would fall into their hands, the Adults. The Adults are everywhere, in all key positions, important stations. It’s the psychology of the ruling race to control each phase of social life. But as long as those who reach Children survive—”
    “You were