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

not supposed to know, but outside of yourself, there’s only three left. Just three.”
    “Three?” My Lord stared.
    “Even those who reached Children have been destroyed right and left. The situation is tragic. That’s why they want you to get started with the second phase.”
    My Lord clenched its fists, its features locked in iron horror. Only three left… What hopes they had entertained for this band, venturing out, so little, so dependent on the weather—and on being wound up tight. If only they were larger! The Adults were so huge.
    But the Children. What had gone wrong? What had happened to their one chance, their one fragile hope?
    “How did it happen? What occurred?”
    “No one knows. The factory is in a turmoil. And now they’re running short of materials. Some of the machines have broken down and nobody knows how to run them.” The airplane coasted toward the edge of the dresser. “I must be getting back. I’ll report later to see how you’re getting on.”
    The airplane flew up into the air and out through the open window. My Lord watched it, dazed.
    What could have happened? They had been so certain about the Children. It was all planned—It meditated.
     
    Evening. The boy sat at the table, staring absently at his geography book. He shifted unhappily, turning the pages. At last he closed the book. He slid from his chair and went to the closet. He was reaching into the closet for the bulging carton when a voice came drifting to him from the dresser-top.
    “Later. You can play with them later. I must discuss something with you.”
    The boy turned back to the table, his face listless and tired. He nodded, sinking down against the table, his head on his arms.
    “You’re not asleep, are you?” My Lord said.
    “No.”
    “Then listen. Tomorrow when you leave school I want you to go to a certain address. It’s not far from the school. It’s a toy store. Perhaps you know it. Don’s Toyland.”
    “I haven’t any money.”
    “It doesn’t matter. This has all been arranged for long in advance. Go to Toyland and say to the man: ‘I was told to come for the package.’ Can you remember that? ‘I was told to come for the package.’ “
    “What’s in the package?”
    “Some tools, and some toys for you. To go along with me.” The metal figure rubbed its hands together. “Nice modern toys, two toy tanks and a machine gun. And some spare parts for—”
    There were footsteps on the stairs outside.
    “Don’t forget,” My Lord said nervously. “You’ll do it? This phase of the plan is extremely important.”
    It wrung its hands together in anxiety.
     
    The boy brushed the last strands of hair into place. He put his cap on and picked up his school books. Outside, the morning was gray and dismal. Rain fell, slowly, soundlessly.
    Suddenly the boy set his books down again. He went to the closet and reached inside. His fingers closed over Teddo’s leg, and he drew him out.
    The boy sat on the bed, holding Teddo against his cheek. For a long time he sat with the stuffed bear, oblivious to everything else.
    Abruptly he looked toward the dresser. My Lord was lying outstretched, silent. Bobby went hurriedly back to the closet and laid Teddo into the carton. He crossed the room to the door. As he opened the door the little metal figure on the dresser stirred.
    “Remember Don’s Toyland…”
    The door closed. My Lord heard the Child going heavily down the stairs, clumping unhappily. My Lord exulted. It was working out all right. Bobby wouldn’t want to do it, but he would. And once the tools and parts and weapons were safely inside there wouldn’t be any chance of failure.
    Perhaps they would capture a second factory. Or better yet: build dies and machines themselves to turn out larger Lords. Yes, if only they could be larger, just a little larger. They were so small, so very tiny, only a few inches high. Would the Movement fail, pass away, because they were too tiny, too fragile?
    But with